Chasing the Heiress

by Rachael Miles

  The house would be ready.

  Chapter Twenty

  Lucy would have liked to watch the countryside as they traveled. She had seen so little of England since her return after Waterloo, only the post road from London to her aunt’s home and the roads she had taken on her escape. But she’d given the window seat to Jennie, hoping that the air from the open window and Lucy’s supply of peppermint leaves—replenished from the porter’s garden—would ease the girl’s uneasy stomach.

  As a result, Lucy had spent the trip seated in the middle of the carriage, facing backward. Colin and Jennie faced her, looking forward, and William’s basket sat in between them and across from her. With Jennie so miserable, it seemed unkind to converse playfully with Colin, so the lovers subsisted on long glances and private smiles. Several hours into the trip, however, Colin had rested his knee against hers and left it there, solid and comforting, for the better part of the afternoon.

  She took his touch as a reminder that she was not completely alone in the world. As soon as they had a private moment at their destination, she resolved to tell him her story and ask for his help in fulfilling her aunt’s commission. She’d grown to trust Colin in the past weeks, and she knew he would help, if she asked it of him.

  A mile from their destination, Fletcher—according to plan—stopped the carriage, and Jennie, dressed once more as a stable boy, climbed up beside Bobby. The moment the carriage door shut behind Jennie, Colin held out his hand. “Take my seat. You have been looking longingly at the windows since we left this morning. I anticipate you haven’t seen much scenery.”

  “Not much, but there’s no need to move. Jennie’s window will serve as well as yours.” She rose, but stumbled as the carriage began to move. Colin took the opportunity to pull her down into his lap.

  “But on this side, you will have the best view as we approach the hall.”

  “Your wound,” Lucy countered, but he silenced her objections with kisses to her neck. She placed her palms on his cheeks and turned his face up to hers. She kissed him deeply.

  “My wound heals better with kisses, sweet star. But I wish for you to enjoy the landscape.” Holding her into his chest, he gently pushed William’s basket toward the opposite door, then sitting her beside him, he slid closer to William’s basket.

  “That was deftly done.” Lucy pulled the curtains apart to their widest extent. “Watch with me.”

  He angled Lucy’s back into his chest and wrapped his arms around her. “Together is best, though I fear Hartshorn Hall will not afford us the same privacy we have enjoyed these past few days.” He nuzzled her neck, his warm breath sending lovely sensations up her spine. He stopped, pointing her gaze out of the window. “But for now, you must watch: I wish to hear your reactions as we arrive.”

  She rested against him, sighing. “As you wish.”

  The forest outside her window was thick with oak, sweet chestnut, and beech, alongside evergreen pines, firs, and spruces. Though it was not yet fully evening, deer lifted their heads from the verges, and more than one rabbit hid in the underbrush. But what Lucy noticed most were the birds, so many different varieties, most of which—having grown up on the Continent—she could not name.

  “On the other side of this bend, the forest ends, and you should see Hartshorn Hall.”

  The carriage turned once, then twice in a tight switchback, and the land opened up in front of them past the forest edge.

  Lucy gasped in pleasure. “It’s a castle!” She laughed, examining its square turreted corners and its crenelated walls. “Not a real one, it can’t be!”

  “Well, the building itself is quite real, and the castle equally so. You can place your hand on its walls to see it is not an illusion,” Colin mocked, pulling her more tightly against him.

  “I mean real as in a castle built in the Middle Ages.”

  “Then no, it is not real. Lady Emmeline’s great-grandfather was obsessed with the glorious history of his ancestors and, displeased that they had no castle remaining, he built one. He was, however, enough of a pragmatist to ensure all the conveniences were present—or at least the conveniences of a hundred years ago. I loved it here as a boy—Sam Barnwell, Lady Emmeline’s stepbrother, and I went to Harrow together. It’s always been a second home to me.”

  In the distance, a petite woman in a riding habit with a dog by her side stood next to a tall man in livery.

  “That’s Lady Emmeline and Jeffreys. Don’t mistake Jeffreys: he has been Em’s butler, estate manager, and trusted advisor since her father ran off to the Continent to live with his French mistress.” Colin’s voice turned hard.

  “You don’t like her father.” Lucy caressed his hand where it rested on her belly.

  Colin paused long before answering. “When Em was six, she was badly hurt in a carriage accident that killed her mother and elder sisters. But instead of caring for Em, her father ran away. He’s never come back.”

  “Tell me the story. I would hate to make a misstep in the home of your friends.”

  “It’s horrific. Em’s sisters wished to return home early from a visit, and her mother accommodated them. It was almost a full day after the accident before Em’s father realized something was wrong. By the time they found Em, she had spent two moonless nights, both legs broken, trapped in an overturned carriage, with the bodies of her mother and sisters.”

  “Poor child.” Lucy shook her head in sympathy, wondering at what grit it took for a child to overcome such an experience.

  “For years she refused to travel in any carriage, and later, she would only travel distances that allowed her to go and return before nightfall. On the rare occasions that she agreed to remain somewhere overnight, she would inevitably awaken screaming. And nothing helped . . . until she found Bess.”

  “Bess?”

  “Her dog. With Bess by her side, Em is her natural self, vibrant and charming and confident. She runs the estate better than her father ever dreamed of doing.” Colin’s voice was proud.

  “How old is Bess?” Lucy asked gently.

  “Not so old, yet. But Jeffreys, Sam, and I already fear what will happen to Em when Bess dies. But don’t tell her you know.” Colin kissed her neck one last time. “She would skin me alive. And you would miss me.”

  As the carriage slowed to a stop, Colin shifted to put a respectable distance between them.

  * * *

  At the estate office door, Colin and Lucy played the part of guests just arrived, acting as a distraction while Jeffreys directed Fletcher and the carriage boys to unload the carriage directly into his office. From there, Jennie and Bobby used the servant’s stairway to whisk William to the nursery.

  Em flung herself into Colin’s arms. “It’s been too long, you devil. You promised to come for Stella’s house party, but you abandoned me, and I had to entertain her witless crowd alone!”

  “I’m certain you have concocted an appropriate penance.” Colin offered a formal half bow.

  “Concocted is right—you will see.” Em, grinning extended both hands to Lucy in greeting. Colin offered the introductions, giving no explanation of his relationship to Lucy. At Em’s side was Bess, a big black dog with a white ruff, white feet, and a white blaze at her chest.

  “What a beautiful animal! I’ve never seen one like her.” Lucy held out her hand, palm toward her body, for the big animal to sniff. “What breed is she?”

  “A St. John’s water dog from Newfoundland. I won her in a bet from the Earl of Malmesbury, who has brought them to England. He raises them in his kennel.” Em scratched Bess between the ears.

  “Malmesbury is usually picky about who gets one of his water dogs,” Colin baited.

  Em batted playfully at Colin’s arm. “I was very persuasive.”

  “Oh, yes, persuasive. Tell Lucy what persuasive means.”

  “Well,” Em laughed, “I simply refused to give her back. When I went to the kennel to see the pups, Bess stayed at the back of the stall. All the other pups came forwa
rd, but she hung back. I bet Malmesbury that I could get her to come to me.”

  “What did you do?” Lucy asked, intrigued.

  Colin leaned in conspiratorially. “Knowing Em, she secretly tied Bess to the back of the kennel, then untied the lead to win the bet.”

  Em glared at Colin. “I did not, though”—she shrugged her shoulders—“that’s close. In any event, Bess has been beside me ever since. I took her to Malmesbury a couple of months ago to be bred, and her litter is all black with white noses just like their mother. Malmesbury’s already chosen his pups, so the rest are mine.” The dog lifted its head to nuzzle Em’s hand. “She’s my good luck charm. I always get a rabbit when Queen Bess comes along.”

  “Queen Bess?”

  Em looked sheepish and pleased all at once. “She rules the estate, so I thought she should have an appropriate name. If you’d like, I can show you Bess’s pups.”

  The three followed Fletcher and the carriage, as it moved toward the stable yard.

  Though there were stray dogs aplenty on the battle trail, Lucy had never been allowed to keep one. Most would stay, then disappear, likely killed. Lucy had especially loved one, a scraggly brown dog with a broken leg. She’d begged the doctor to set the leg, but he’d refused, so she’d torn up her shift, made bandages, and done the job herself. The dog had followed her around the camp until its leg was healed, but soon after the splints were gone, he’d disappeared, and she’d missed him for years. But the doctor had noticed her, her skill, and her instincts, and from then she’d been allowed to help with the wounded.

  Em’s pups were black, roly-poly balls of fur. Crawling over one another in a tumble of paws, they reached the front of the stable quickly. The stable gate had been removed and replaced with a low fence, so that Bess could enter and leave freely. The great dog leapt over the barricade and stood proudly behind her pups.

  “Oh, they are adorable!” Lucy bent down and stuck her fingers between the fence slats. The pups licked and gnawed on her fingers.

  “I know. I can’t imagine how I’m going to part with them. But they’re spoken for, their new homes approved by Malmesbury himself. I’m keeping two: the one with no markings, and the headstrong one over there.” Em pointed at the pup gnawing on his brother’s leg.

  “How did you choose?” Lucy scratched the white belly of a pup that had rolled over beneath her fingers.

  “The all-black one reminds me of Bess when she was a pup, all good-humor and deviousness. And the headstrong one seems oddly most devoted to Bess: he watches her constantly and misses her most when she isn’t in the stable yard. I’d held one back for you, Colin—the best of them in fact—but then you didn’t come when expected.”

  “Guilty as charged, Em.” Colin lifted his hands out to his sides. “What did you do with my pup?”

  “He’s still here, the sleek one Lucy is scratching. He already shows the instincts to make a fine hunter.” Em turned to Jeffreys, who approached from the house, leaving Colin and Lucy to play with Bess’s pups.

  Colin stepped into the stable and picked up the white-bellied pup with a thick white ruff. Holding him up, Colin looked the pup in the eyes. The pup looked soberly back.

  “You really do hold babies and puppies alike. Give him to me.” Lucy held out her hands, and Colin gave her the animal. Immediately, she snuggled the puppy to her bosom, and he began to lick her chin and face. Lucy giggled, a light, young sound that lifted Colin’s spirits. “Are you a clever pup? Are you? Of course you are.” And the pup licked her on the nose.

  Em returned to Colin’s side. “Your companions are well settled in the nursery, and we have locked the servants’ stairway as well as the stairway from the family wing. Your man Fletcher has one key.” She held out a heavy iron key. “Here is the only other.”

  Colin stuck the key in the side of his boot, then leaned forward to kiss Em’s cheek. “Thank you.”

  “Of course.” Em looked seriously into Colin’s face. “Is this part of the business from before?”

  “No, but it’s important,” Colin responded with equal seriousness.

  Lucy watched as the two shared a private communication. Em made a motion with her hand, and Colin nodded. Suddenly, Lucy felt ill at ease. Something in the manner of the two toward one another made her feel like an interloper. But then the moment passed, and Colin’s face shifted to a playful pose.

  “So how much will it cost me to buy my dog back?”

  “You will find Malmesbury unwilling to negotiate. He was quite smitten.” Em laughed. “Losing the pup might simply be your punishment for broken promises.”

  * * *

  Em had graciously had a bath drawn for Lucy before dinner, and Lucy had luxuriated in the hot water until it became warm, then tepid. She had pulled herself from the tub unwillingly. The maid who had accompanied the hot water also brought fine linen towels and a heavy brocaded dressing gown, suitable to the season, scented with rose water.

  Wrapped in the luxurious gown, Lucy reviewed her two choices for what dress to wear to dinner: the worn blue wool and an equally worn grey muslin, neither fitting her figure. Now that Colin had discovered how she had altered her shape, it seemed foolish—at least while she was in the safety of his company—to continue the ruse. But she had no other options. Having seen Em and her closeness to Colin, she wished suddenly that she had not refused his offer of new clothes so decisively.

  It would have to be the grey, she realized. The wool was wholly unsuited for a dinner at a country manor. Though faded and worn, the grey still showed signs of having been a fine walking dress once long ago.

  Her decision was interrupted by a rap at the door. “Miss? It’s Dot. Lady Hartley has sent me to you. May I enter?”

  She started to call out that there was no need. But having been a servant herself, she would at least open the door to send the maid away. At the door she found not one maid, but three. The first—a broad-faced, flaxen-haired cherub—carried over her arm a pile of underclothes, and the two maids behind each held dresses over their outstretched arms.

  “Lady Hartley thought after such a long trip, you might have no clothes fresh enough for dinner.”

  Lucy did not correct Em’s polite fiction. It was a generous kindness—as were the dresses. She stepped back from the door to let the maids enter.

  “Lady Hartley believed this one might suit you best.” The maid held up a frock of deep crimson satin, with puffed sleeves and a narrow fluted ruffle at its base. Edged in delicate white lace, the bodice was demurely low, cupping each breast individually. “The two of you are of a size and shape, so it ought to fit nicely.”

  The dress was simple, but elegant—the kind of dress she would have commissioned herself from a modiste. “Then I will try that one first.”

  “Very good, miss.” The maids set to work. Two hung the remaining dresses, eight by the count of them: a riding habit, two morning dresses, two walking dresses, two evening dresses, and a ball gown. Lucy determined to object later.

  As she sat to have her hair dressed, the maid—Dot—chatted familiarly, happy if Lucy offered an occasional um or ah. As Dot worked, Lucy wondered if Colin would find her transformation appealing, or if he’d prefer her as he had found her? A lowly servant.

  “And of course Mrs. Cane—her ladyship’s cousin—was quite frustrated to find that she and her party had to leave before Lady Hartley’s beau arrived. Her guests were growing restive when the rain came unexpectedly and ended their enjoyment of the country. She told me she had been planning the menu for Lady Hartley’s engagement party for months.”

  In the expert hands of Dot, Lucy watched her hair transform from a mess of curls into an elegant chignon with tendrils framing her face.

  “It was to have ten courses—though Cook told me she would have refused to prepare it. Cook calls Mrs. Cane a worthless spendthrift, but I think an engagement party would have been lovely. Do you think we will have one now that you have arrived?”

  It took a moment f
or Lucy to register that Dot had stopped her long narrative and was waiting for her to respond.

  “Dot, I was thinking that my hair has never looked lovelier, and I missed your question,” Lucy said diplomatically.

  “Do you really like it, miss?”

  “Yes, Dot, it makes me look . . .” Lucy’s voice trailed off in thought.

  “Beautiful, miss. That it does. No, I was saying that I thought the party Mrs. Cane had planned was just the sort of celebration Lady Hartley deserves after all these years of waiting.”

  The information registered slowly, leaving Lucy wishing that she had paid closer attention. “Certainly it is difficult to wait on an expected good.”

  Dot patted her shoulder. “That is exactly my position. Do you think we’ll have the engagement announcement this week then?” Dot asked, putting the final touches on Lucy’s hair. “I was saying in fact just the other day to one of Mrs. Cane’s friends that a short engagement is always best. Why, Mrs. Cane only knew her husband for . . .”

  Dot’s voice faded into the background once more, leaving Lucy with an uncomfortable twist in her gut.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Em was on the terrace, where Colin expected her to be.

  But before climbing the four stairs, he stopped and knelt beside Bess, lying at the base of the stairs. He scratched the big black dog behind the ears. “Always watching out for our lady Em, aren’t you, girl?” Bess shifted her head to move his fingers to a better spot. As he petted the great dog, he watched Em stand on the terrace, lost in thought.

  She was looking out over the stone wall, into the garden and wilderness beyond. In childhood they had made a game of it, the private hand signal that meant Meet me at the parapet—their word for the raised portion of the terrace, where the land fell off abruptly below and some distant generation of ancestor had built a stone wall to keep residents from falling. It was the most private public space near the house. A bend in the terrace protected one from view, but at the same time gave a full prospect. If one stood just right, as they did now, they were hidden from view, except from the most distant part of the garden, which they could see fully. There was only one approach from the house that they could not see, and it was almost never used. It had become a ritual between them; if either wished to talk or escape, they would find this spot on the terrace.