“Sir Thomas Sedgewyck,” Miss Sophie said, “may I present Mrs. Caroline Jenkins and her son, Jem. They are tenants at Hyacinth Cottage.”
“Mrs. Jenkins,” Sir Thomas said. “I look forward to furthering our acquaintance.”
“Sir Thomas,” Callie replied.
Just then the pastor, the Reverend Mr. Dougless, appeared and took his place at the pulpit near the tomb of Lettice, Lady Sedgewyck, and Sir Thomas took his place beside his two companions.
Throughout the service Callie was aware of Sir Thomas, just across the aisle, casting sidelong glances her way. Though she kept her eyes to the front and her attention ostensibly on the Bible readings and sermon, she could see, from the corner of her eye, that the tall, handsome man in black and gold was having trouble keeping his concentration.
Sophie Bates noticed his interest as well. “You seem to have captured Sir Thomas’ interest, my dear,” she whispered. “His mama-in-law will not like that.”
“Mama-in-law?”
“The older lady with him is Mrs. Venetia Louvain, mother to Sir Thomas’ late wife, Charlotte. The younger lady is her other daughter, Flora, Charlotte’s half-sister, whom she hopes to see become Sir Thomas’ second wife.”
“She wants her daughter to marry her elder daughter’s widower?”
“So they say. After all, Sir Thomas is very rich and has no heir. He will surely want to remarry. Should he marry some other lady, she may not want the mother and sister of her predecessor as permanent houseguests.”
“No, indeed,” Callie agreed.
When the service ended Callie and Jem followed the Misses Bates out of the church, just behind Sir Thomas and his companions.
Penelope Bates introduced Callie to the Reverend Mr. Dougless and his wife, Olivia.
“Welcome to the neighborhood, Mrs. Jenkins,” the reverend said. “And your son, how do you do, Master Jenkins. I hope I shall have the pleasure of seeing you at the school I conduct at the parsonage.”
Jem cast an apprehensive glance at Callie and she smiled. “Perhaps you may,” she told the reverend. “Jem is used to being schooled at home.”
“Then it may do him good to be among other children and know the discipline of regular lessons,” Olivia Dougless decreed.
Callie decided she did not care for the parson’s wife and was glad when the Misses Bates took their leave of the parson and moved toward the lych gate.
They had nearly reached it when a voice called out:
“Mrs. Jenkins?”
Callie, Jem, and the sisters Bates turned and found Sir Thomas Sedgewyck coming toward them, his two companions in tow.
“I wanted to apologize to you, Mrs. Jenkins,” Sir Thomas said.
“Apologize, Lord Sedgewyck?”
“I should have welcomed you to the village long since. I do not know how your arrival managed to escape my notice.”
“I am certain you had other, more important, matters to consider.”
“Please, allow me to present my mother-in-law, Mrs. Venetia Louvain, and her daughter, Flora. My late wife was Mrs. Louvain’s elder daughter.”
“Mrs. Louvain, Miss Louvain,” Callie said, “I am pleased to meet you. This is my son, Jem.”
“How do you do,” the elder of the two said coolly. Her daughter merely smiled wanly and assumed an air of bored indifference.
“I wonder, by way of redress for my neglect,” Sir Thomas went on, “if you, your son, and of course Miss Penelope and Miss Sophie, would accompany us back to the manor for dinner?”
Callie heard the excited gasps of the Bates sisters and knew she could not refuse. “That is most kind, Sir Thomas,” she said. “I’m sure we would be delighted.” The little exasperated glance that passed between Venetia Louvain and her daughter did not escape Callie’s notice.
“Thank you, shall we go?”
Sedgewyck Manor overlooked the sea on the opposite side of St. Swithin from Callie’s own Hyacinth Cottage. The grounds ran down to a river that fed into the harbor around which the village had been built. From the tall, arched windows of the Great Hall with its elaborate hammer beam ceiling, one could look down on the village.
“Sir Thomas can certainly keep watch on things in the village from here,” Callie told Sophie as they stood side by side before one of the leaded windows whose diamond panes shone in the sunlight.
“His family has owned this land for nearly two hundred years,” Sophie told her. “It was his great-great-grandfather who built this house soon after he was knighted by Elizabeth I.”
“She must have given him a prodigious income along with the knighthood,” Callie said.
“Oh no, the Sedgewyck fortune came from piracy.”
“Piracy!”
“Shhh, Sir Thomas doesn’t like it spoken of, but his great-great grandmother, that same Lettice Sedgewyck whose tomb you saw in the church was a notorious pirate. Her husband was away at sea often and, when he was gone, she recruited lads from the village and the estate and took to piracy. They say she amassed a fortune; the basis of the Sedgewyck fortune today.”
“But if she. . .”
Callie’s question was silenced as Sir Thomas entered the room closely followed by Venetia Louvain and her daughter.
“Do they ever let him out of their sight?” Callie whispered.
Sophie giggled. “Not when there’s a pretty woman nearby.”
“Perhaps you’d like to see the garden, Mrs. Jenkins,” Sir Thomas invited. “I’m certain Mrs. Louvain and Flora would be happy to entertain the Misses Bates since they’ve seen the gardens many times.”
Venetia Louvain’s thin cheeks flushed red and her large, dark eyes flashed with anger. Had she dared refuse, Callie was certain she would have but her continued welcome at Sedgewyck Manor depended on Sir Thomas’ good will and should he ask her and Flora to leave, there would be much less chance of her convincing him to marry the girl.
“Of course, Sir Thomas,” she agreed. “Ladies, shall we go into the little parlor?”
Jem came up and touched Callie’s elbow. “May I run down to the shore?”
“I suppose so,” she agreed, ‘but don’t stay long and don’t get wet, if you please.”
Sir Thomas held out his arm. “Now then, shall we?”
The terraced gardens immediately behind the manor were abloom with flowers rioting over the stone walls and bordering the hedges that divided the garden into sections, each with its own statue. In the center a fountain played, the water drops creating rainbows in the bright sunshine.
“It is delightful,” Callie told Sir Thomas as he led her along the borders pointing out the various kinds of plants his gardeners tended with such loving care.
“I am glad you like it. There are several other gardens here at the manor as well as a walk through the woods where you may meet my hermit.”
“Hermit?”
“Indeed. His name is Walter and he lives in a cave at the edge of the wood where the forest gives way to the shore. He fishes and forages for his meals, gets water from the stream that runs through the wood, and cuts his own firewood from the fallen trees in the forest.”
“And he chooses to live this way, cut off from the society of others?”
“Oh, it is a profitable arrangement, I do assure you. Once his contract expires, he will be well able to support himself on the stipend I will provide.”
“You have hired him to live in your cave?”
“Absolutely, I assure you, Mrs. Jenkins, it is all the fashion to have a hermit in one’s grounds.”
“I confess I have never heard of such a thing as a hired hermit but then I have been away from these shores for several years.”
“Your late husband was a sailing man?”
Callie remembered telling the Misses Bates when she rented Hyacinth Cottage that her husband had been a minister. “He was a missionary,” she said, gazing out over the colorful blooms that surrounded them. “Our travels took us to many lands.”
“How interestin
g; that must be why your son is so drawn to the sea.”
They had reached the front of the house and Sir Thomas looked down over the green expanse of the lawn to the quay on the river where Jem played, throwing rocks into the water.
“Yes, Jem loves the sea. I daresay when he is older he will go to sea himself.”
“Following in your husband’s footsteps, perhaps?”
Callie smiled. “No doubt, Sir Thomas, no doubt.”
An hour later, Callie sat beside Sophie Bates at the long, gleaming table in the dining room of Sedgewyck Manor. Sir Thomas sat at the head of the table and Venetia Louvain at its foot. Jem, seated across from Callie, fidgeted in his seat, impatient for the long, formal meal to be at an end.
Flora Louvain, cross at being seated nearer to her mother than to Sir Thomas, fixed Callie with a haughty glare. “Tell me, Mrs. Jenkins, do you often allow your young son to eat with the adults?”
“Always, Miss Louvain,” Callie answered. “After all, Jem and I are alone. It would hardly make sense to exile him to another room and both of us dine alone.”
“How singular. I perceive that you do not care to follow fashion in your daily activities.”
“It is true; I am no slave to fashion. Given my choice, I will always choose practicality.”
“Brava, Mrs. Jenkins,” Sir Thomas said from the head of the table as he raised his glass. “You sound like a lady of uncommon common sense than which I admire nothing more.”
“Thank you, Sir Thomas,” Callie said, wondering at such a statement coming from a man who hired a human being to decorate his garden because it was ‘all the fashion’.
A little whine came from the foot of the table and Callie looked around in time to see a furry head appear, two limpid brown eyes surveying the food on Venetia Louvain’s plate. Sir Thomas’ former mother-in-law slipped a piece of roast beef into the tiny dog’s mouth and it disappeared beneath the table’s edge once more.
Jem was fascinated. “What kind of a dog is that, ma’am?” he asked.
Venetia fixed him with a stare that clearly conveyed her disdain for his presence at Sir Thomas’ table. “He is a Cavalier King Charles Spaniel. His name is Sherbet.”
Jem widened his eyes. “Shark bait?”
Callie lifted her napkin to her lips to hide her smile but Venetia Louvain was not so amused.
“Sherbet!” she snapped. “Sherbet! And I think we’ve heard enough from you, young man, if you don’t mind.”
Jem looked at Callie and she bit her lips to keep from smiling at his pleased expression.
He went back to eating his dinner and Callie saw him examine an ornate silver spoon and slowly begin inching it toward the edge of the table. She knew that in a moment it would disappear into his pocket and she stretched out her foot under the table and nudged his leg beneath the embroidered table cloth. When he looked at her, she gave a tiny shake of her head and he reluctantly returned the spoon to its place beside his plate.
There was an awkward silence which Venetia Louvain broke to say: “Perhaps Flora could entertain us at the pianoforte after dinner.” She smiled thinly at Callie. “My daughter is an accomplished musician, Mrs. Jenkins.”
“Is she? How lovely.”
“Do you play?”
“No, not at all, Mrs. Louvain.”
“What a shame. Sir Thomas much admires musical talent in a lady.”
“That is very kind of you, Mrs. Louvain,” Penelope Bates said, “but I fear my sister and I must make our departure soon after dinner. I am afraid Miss Louvain’s playing is a treat that must wait for another time.”
“Indeed,” Callie said, “how disappointing, Miss Louvain, but I will so look forward to hearing you at another time.”
Callie looked around the room with its exquisite tapestries and elegant paintings. A solid silver ship under full sail, an enameled pennant flowing from the tall mainmast decorated the center of the table. And all this, she reflected, had its origins in piracy. If Kit had lived, they could have retired into anonymity and built a life like this; their children and their children’s children could have one day been grand ladies and gentlemen.
“Tell me, Mrs. Jenkins,” Sir Thomas said, “have you had any trouble finding domestic help here in St. Swithin?”
“To be honest, Sir Thomas,” Callie told him, “I haven’t tried. With only Jem and me, we have not felt the need of servants.”
“Never say you do your own housework!” Venetia exclaimed. “But perhaps I should have known.” She stared pointedly at Callie’s hands which showed all the signs of having known hard work.
“I do my own housework,” Callie confirmed. “Having always been an active person, I confess I would find it hard to sit idly by while other waited on me like some pampered invalid.”
“There is no shame in being an active, useful person,” Sir Thomas decreed. “Certainly it is a valuable talent in a lady to be able to undertake the management of her own household. However, I should think you would not be adverse to a companion who might help you around the house as well.
“Mrs. Louvain’s lady’s maid, Sawyer, has a niece who is anxious to enter service with an eye toward eventually being a lady’s maid herself. I wonder if you might consider taking her into your employ.”
Callie saw the alarmed glance pass between Venetia and her daughter and although she really had no interest in hiring a servant, smiled sweetly at her host. “How very kind of you, Sir Thomas,” she cooed. “I should be grateful for the help and the company.”
“Excellent!” Sir Thomas beamed at her. “You are a most agreeable person, Mrs. Jenkins. Amenability in a lady is an inestimable trait.”
After dinner Gemma, the young niece of Venetia’s lady’s maid, was summoned and readily agreed to accompany Callie home and become a servant in her house. She had ambitions for the future but, she agreed, one needed to start somewhere.
The Misses Bates announced their departure and Sir Thomas ordered his carriage, determined to see Callie, Jem, and Gemma home to Hyacinth Cottage.
“You must not trouble yourself, Sir Thomas,” Callie protested. “Surely the Misses Bates . . .”
“It is no trouble at all, I assure you,” he replied. There are too many of you for the Misses Bates’ pony cart and I should be delighted for the opportunity of seeing you home, Mrs. Jenkins.”
Though Callie would have just as soon crowded into Sophie and Penelope’s little pony cart, the sight of Venetia and Flora’s sour expressions was enough to make the prospect of a ride home in Sir Thomas’ elegant landau more agreeable.
As they rode through the village, Sir Thomas and Callie seated together, Gemma, her bundle at her feet, facing them, and Jem happily ensconced on the box beside the liveried coachman, men doffed their caps and tugged their forelocks, women and girls curtsied. Callie felt very grand and although she knew the obeisances were meant for Sir Thomas, she couldn’t help indulging in a moment’s fantasy of what it would be like to be a titled lady accustomed to receiving such deference on a daily basis. No wonder Venetia Louvain so jealously guarded her position as Sir Thomas’ mother-in-law and plotted to replace the daughter she’d lost with her surviving daughter as Lady Sedgewyck.
They reached Hyacinth Cottage and Sir Thomas helped Callie descend while Jem hopped down from the box and handed Gemma to the ground. He took her bundle and carried it into the cottage as she followed him inside.
“There you are,” Sir Thomas said, smiling, “safe and sound. I trust you had a pleasant time at the manor.”
“Most enjoyable,” Callie assured him. “You have a lovely home. Thank you for inviting us.”
“You must come again.” He took her hand. “I am so pleased to have met you, Mrs. Jenkins. I would like to know you better.”
“I am flattered, Sir Thomas . . .”
“I am perfectly serious, ma’am,” he said, his dark eyes searching her face. “I am no idle flatterer. But I will take my leave now in the hope of seeing you again in the near fu
ture.”
“I’m sure you shall,” Callie agreed.
“I will content myself with that, for now.” Sir Thomas raised her hand to his lips and brushed a kiss on her fingers. He made her an elegant bow and climbed back up into his carriage. The coachman closed the crested door and clambered back onto the box and Sir Thomas doffed his hand to her as the carriage turned around and headed back down the narrow cart track toward the village.
As Callie turned toward the cottage she found Jem standing just outside the doorway. Grinning, he made her a bow every bit as elegant as Sir Thomas’.
“Get inside,” Callie told him with mock severity, “before I turn out your pockets and make certain you didn’t make off with Sir Thomas’ silver.”
Jem laughed and skittered out of her reach and Callie, feeling somewhat overwhelmed, followed him inside.
* * * *
The door had no more closed on Sir Thomas’ guests when Venetia Louvain marched out of the dining room.
“Flora, my room, now!” she ordered as she passed her daughter who still lingered in her place at the table.
Upstairs, Venetia dismissed her maid and arranged herself on her chaise longue before fixing her daughter with a baleful glare.
“Could you, for once, try not to look as if you just lost your closest friend?”
Flora sighed, gazing out the window. “I do not have any friends.”
“Oh my God!” Venetia restrained the impulse to fling her crystal scent bottle at the girl’s head. “How do you expect to tempt Sir Thomas into matrimony if you go about this way? No wonder he’s sniffing after the first pretty woman to cross his path.”
“Sir Thomas does not care a jot for me, Mama,” Flora told her mother.
“How do you know? You scarcely address two words in his direction. Did you learn nothing from your sister? Charlotte knew how to captivate a man.”
Flora turned back toward the window. When her half-sister was alive she’d found herself constantly compared to her, to her own disadvantage. Where Charlotte, the late Lady Sedgewyck, had been darkly beautiful with smoldering eyes and a curvaceous body, Flora was tall and thin with mousy brown hair and nearly lashes-less pale blue eyes. While Charlotte had been flirtatious and knew instinctively how to attract a man, Flora was quiet, withdrawn, with a total lack of bright conversation.
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