Winthrop Trilogy Box Set

by Burnett, May

  “I saw him assault Miss Milla,” a reedy voice came from the assembled crowd. It belonged to a gangly teenager with bright red hair and a prominent Adam’s apple. “I was worried for Miss Milla and followed. She had to defend herself from the man, he was about to ravish her.”

  Milla looked at him, and he shut up, gulping. Was he just inventing this story, or had he actually seen what happened? Whichever was the case, she did not want her three friends drawn to Sir Jermyn’s attention.

  “Is this true?” Sir Jermyn asked her, frowning heavily. She nodded, and said “Yes,” in a timid maidenly voice.

  “That tears it. He’ll be locked up until he sobers up and answers for that insult - though I have to say, Miss Northcote, if you dressed more like a lady of your distinguished background, it might help protect you from such incidents.”

  “Everyone knows me in these parts, I have never had any such troubles before.” Milla tried to sound sad and forlorn, as she caught a glimpse of Jem’s grin amongst the crowd. “I shall strive to follow your advice, Sir Jermyn. My sister-in-law has said something similar just recently.”

  “Lady Northcote is a consummate lady, you should listen to her expert advice.” From the admiration in the baronet’s voice, Milla deduced that he was another of Susan’s converts. She hid her annoyance and modestly lowered her eyes.

  “As you say, Sir Jermyn.” She watched the stranger secured with a stout rope and unceremoniously laden on the coal seller’s cart for transport to the local lockup. It would serve him right. With any luck he would not remember their conversation when he woke up with a hangover, or if he did, would not be believed.

  “My brother will want to see him – maybe he can identify the man, and find out why he’d try to murder him,” she suggested. “I’ll tell him about the capture, and ask him to come over in the morning to look at the fellow.”

  “Good thinking.” Sir Jermyn endorsed her suggestion with a nod. “I must say, he certainly looks like a big dangerous ruffian. A mercy that you escaped his assault in time.” His eyes swivelling from her slight figure to the bulk of the unconscious brute, he suddenly looked doubtful. “You did, didn’t you?”

  “Most fortunately,” Milla said. “Because he was three quarters drunk.”

  “Ah. Yes, I suppose that would explain it.”

  Milla quickly took her leave, before she had to answer more questions.

  At least the man was caught, and if her brother identified him, with any luck would be locked up or transported. All in all, not a bad night’s work.

  Chapter 23

  To her annoyance, when she returned Milla found her brother and Susan gone from the castle. A short letter from her sister-in-law explained that they had left to assist the friend Susan was expecting, who had possibly been injured in an accident on the road from London. Milla grimaced. Yet more London visitors to invade the castle and order her around. This young lady, when she recovered, would turn her nose up at Milla and deplore her manners and pastimes, as Susan did, even if she hid it pretty well.

  This meant North could not go and identify the captured man, who in all likelihood would be released soon enough – or would he? How serious was the charge of assault upon her person? Not very, she feared. There were plenty of witnesses that she’d left with him voluntarily, and the way she’d been dressed and acted, no jury in the world would convict a rich gentleman of his kind.

  Over the night she mulled her options. Her new clothes from Truro had not yet arrived, unfortunately, but if she changed her mode of dress right away, with any luck the all but the direct witnesses would forget – or pretend to forget – that she’d presented the appearance of a slovenly fisher lass.

  Would Susan mind very much if Milla appropriated one of her elegant gowns? No matter. It would serve her right to lose it, for urging Milla to change her dress and be more ladylike. She could deduct its cost from her allowance.

  Right after an early breakfast she repaired to the master suite. In Susan’s large wardrobe Milla discovered eight day dresses, prettier and better made than anything she had ever worn in her entire life. Since Susan had taken her new maid along, Milla was alone and undisturbed. She curiously examined the London-made gowns. Their expensive materials and countless details unstinting of labour showed that they had originated in a first-class establishment. She boldly tried them on.

  As Susan was not dissimilar to her in colouring, apart from Milla’s tan, several of the colours were flattering. The bosoms were only a little bit loose, nothing she could not fix with a folded handkerchief, and the waists too fit almost exactly. Only the hems would need to be taken up, as Susan was some three inches taller. Her shoes were a little bigger too, but that was better than too small, and merely required extra stockings.

  Milla chose a pale lilac confection with an embroidered bodice and a matching spencer with elaborately engraved small golden buttons. After some hesitation she also put on the hat of lilac straw, with broad purple ribbons and a half-veil that did not impede her view, but mitigated the effect of her tanned skin.

  She undressed again, and hastily shortened the skirt length, not doing as good a job as a real seamstress or even a halfway competent lady’s maid, but it would have to do. When Milla left in the gig, with a groom riding along in the most respectable fashion, - the barouche had left with her brother, alas – she could not be distinguished from any well-born lady, she fancied; at least from a distance.

  Lady Crimpling stared at her for several seconds before recognizing Milla, and could not hide her surprise at the dramatic transformation. “Upon my word, Miss Northcote, you are amazingly pretty when dressed in ladylike manner. I had no idea.” She realised that she might have been tactless, and cleared her throat. “I meant to say -“

  “Thank you, Lady Crimpling.” Milla smiled guilelessly. “As you may have heard, my late brother Edward did not provide me with the funds to dress as befitted my station, but now all that is changed, and I am determined to do credit to the family.”

  “You poor girl,” Lady Crimpling said, her heart touched by the contemplation of Milla’s sad and deprived youth. “You never complained or showed interest in fashionable clothes, or I could have helped you.”

  “A Northcote does not seek assistance outside her own family,” Milla said with a touch of haughtiness, the way Susan did when she had to repress pretension. It was fun, rather. “But I thank you for the kind thought. I have come about the man who was arrested yesterday. My brother was supposed to identify him, but he and the new Lady Northcote had to depart on an urgent errand, and it may be weeks until their return.”

  “They left you all alone?” Lady Crimpling frowned.

  “It is hardly the first time, and I am no longer a child.” This role of a respectable young lady had severe drawbacks. “I have a large staff to protect me now, and I shall be going to London presently, to have a season.”

  “I’m glad to hear it; there are so few eligible young gentlemen in this vicinity. A pretty girl like you deserves to have a wider choice.”

  “About the man-,” Milla tried to get back to her own concerns.

  “I have not seen him myself, but can it be true that you scratched his face?” Lady Crimpling looked at her with momentary unease. “You can’t do that sort of thing when you go to London, you know. Was he really trying to compromise you?”

  “He tried,” Milla said shortly. Just then Sir Jermyn came bustling in, and also stopped in surprise on perceiving her in Susan’s finery. “Good morning, Miss Northcote – what a transformation since last night! You look like a picture.”

  “Thank you,” Milla said demurely. “I came to tell you that unfortunately my brother is called away and will not be able to identify the man until his return, I know not when.”

  “Too bad. I cannot keep him locked up indefinitely,” Sir Jermyn said. “I understand he woke up a short while ago. I was just about to go over and interview him. My servants say he speaks like a well-educated gentlemen. Maybe this
is all a misunderstanding, and merely the effect of too much strong drink. Those scratches are likely to leave permanent marks, and are probably punishment enough.”

  “Yes, I noticed his speech,” Milla concurred. “I would like to see him, and ask him what he thought he was doing. If he apologizes, it will be easier for me to get over the dreadful memory.”

  “An apology? That’s not enough restitution,” Lady Crimpling said severely. “If he really shot at Lord Northcote, it should make no difference if he’s a rich gentleman or a pauper. But I thought your brother never saw exactly who shot at him?”

  “No, but he saw that his boat had a blue mast, and he suspected that the shooter was a man who was already his enemy,” Milla said. “I am not clear exactly why, or who he is supposed to be. The name Molton was never mentioned.”

  “Then even if this Mr. Molton is your brother’s enemy, - what a melodramatic word! – any evidence is at most circumstantial. Suspicion and motive is not enough to keep him locked up.” Sir Jermyn regretfully shook his head.

  Milla thought quickly. She needed to keep the man around until her brother returned to take care of him permanently. “There is something I did not tell you earlier,” she began cautiously. “I had actually met the man before, on the shore when I came in from fishing. He tried to persuade me to leave with him, to sail away on his boat, and marry him. I was not sure if he was serious. In any case, I could not accept him until I was sure he was not the man who had shot at my brother.”

  “Hmm.” The justice was looking at her sceptically, probably remembering the way she had dressed before. “Maybe you should see the man after all, so we can hear what he has to say for himself now he’s more or less sober. Come with me, please.”

  “I shall come also,” Lady Crimpling announced. “A young lady should not be face to face with such a ruffian, without another lady to lend her countenance.”

  All three went across the street to the humble building in which local miscreants were traditionally locked up.

  The stranger was sitting on the edge of the hard bunk, holding his head, and sipping water from a cup with a straw. Milla had heard that hangovers often brought a raging thirst. In the clear light of day the bloody streaks on his face looked worse than the evening before. Maybe they would become infected and he’d die. Too bad she was not really engaged to him, she’d marry him on his deathbed and be a rich widow.

  “Good morning,” Sir Jermyn said, more politely than the fellow deserved in Milla’s eyes.

  Molton looked up at the three of them. “Just where am I? Where are the fellows who attacked me?”

  “Nobody attacked you,” Milla said sternly. “You merely drank too much.” Her voice eloquently expressed her distaste of inebriation. Nobody who heard her would have imagined her drinking ale only the previous night, in a common inn.

  He stared at her. “I know that dress. Who are you?”

  “You talked to Miss Northcote yesterday in the Dennoden inn,” Sir Jermyn reminded the man. “And pressed unwanted attentions on her, according to witnesses.”

  Lady Crimpling sniffed. “A gentleman would know what to do in such a situation.”

  “Miss Northcote?” The man’s surprise was unmistakeably genuine.

  “You have forgotten me so quickly?” Milla shrugged. “It may be for the best. My brother and Lady Susan would not want me to associate with a man like you.”

  He smiled nastily. “But they allow you to accost men in a common inn, dressed like some kind of doxy?”

  “Sir!” Lady Crimpling cried. “You will immediately beg Miss Northcote’s pardon for this uncivil remark, and anything else you may have said or done.”

  “You mean, compromised the chit?” Molton chuckled. “I don’t care. Let her be ruined, it serves her brother right. It will be a cold day in hell before I apologize to anyone.”

  Sir Jermyn and Lady Crimpling exchanged glances of dismay. The magistrate’s face was reddening with anger. “Ruined, you say? If you have ruined her, you will marry Miss Northcote right away, or you’ll remain locked up until you come to your senses. I was going to take a more lenient view and release you, but you stand condemned by your own words.”

  Milla stared at the stripes her strong fingernails had left on the man’s formerly handsome face. If anyone here was ruined, it was not her, but the mere rumour was likely to complicate her life endlessly. Unless….

  “I am not subject to your jurisdiction, I am –,” the man broke off with an oath. “Never mind. You will regret this. I demand to be released immediately, or you will rue the day you crossed me.”

  Sir Jermyn drew himself up to his full height – more than a head shorter than the prisoner. His jowls trembled with displeasure. “You dare to threaten me here in my own parish, locked up in my jail? After assaulting a young lady of my acquaintance, and possibly attacking her brother? But I daresay you are still addled by drink, and will leave you to think better of your attitude.” He ushered the ladies out, carefully double-locking behind him, and giving orders for an armed guard to keep watch outside the premises at all times.

  “If you are keeping him locked up, maybe you could send for his clothes,” Milla suggested. “He has a ship moored in the bay beyond Dennoden. If his effects were searched, they might prove one way or the other if he is a villain.”

  “I will consider your suggestion,” Sir Jermyn said. “What a horrible man! Is there any truth to his claims?”

  “It depends how one defines ruined,” Milla said. “If you are wondering if he’s had my virtue, he certainly has not. But he seems prepared to go around claiming so, as he hates my brother and thinks to hurt him through me. It is most unfortunate.”

  “He ought to marry you after what he said, but he’s not a husband I would wish on any young lady,” Lady Crimpling said unhappily. “Why could a man so handsome in appearance behave like that?”

  “I would marry him, if you can bring him up to scratch,” Milla said thoughtfully. “It seems the best way to prevent harm coming to my family’s reputation.”

  “You would be under his authority, and he’d murder you for forcing you into a match he never wanted,” Lady Crimpling warned.

  “I can hold my own.” A marriage in name only to a rich man might be just what Milla needed to escape Susan’s authority.

  “I daresay if anyone could, it might be you,” Sir Jermyn said. “He’d hang if he murdered you, and I don’t think he’s quite stupid enough. But it’s a risk nonetheless. Are you certain you’d take him?”

  Milla nodded, hiding her sudden doubts. “I am not afraid of him.”

  “Then I will send word if – when – he agrees.”

  Milla took her leave, returning to the castle with her head whirling. Just because she’d dressed up in Susan’s elegant gown, suddenly she was a lady to be protected at all costs, and offered the risk – or chance – of marrying that tall miscreant … there was a kind of magic in beautiful clothes, and the pretence of having a genteel nature.

  What was she doing? But she had a feeling that all would turn out right in the end. The man had not been able to touch her for more than a moment last night, and she’d make sure he could not do even that much after they were married. That way she could always ask for an annulment, or agree to one in exchange for a large compensation.

  Was she being too mercenary? If you had to fend for yourself and haggle about fish from a tender age, you learned that ideals and nobility were for pampered beings like Susan, who had never faced adversity or need in their whole lives. She would do what she had to do, and damn the consequences.

  If Sir Jermyn could bring the stranger to agree to a wedding, which of Susan’s other dresses should Milla cannibalize? She had not yet touched the evening gowns. The silvery white one was splendid, though it would emphasize her tan … or maybe the patterned blue silk?

  Chapter 24

  “Are you quite certain you are well enough to travel today? I know the doctor said so, but only you can really kn
ow.” Jeremy scrutinized Abigail’s composed face over the breakfast table. She did look better than a week earlier, though still pale enough. “If you prefer to rest a bit longer, another day or two makes little difference at this point.” He stirred the tea in his cup. They were planning to leave as soon as Mrs Widdy and Molly came back from Sunday mass. Their shot was paid, including this last breakfast.

  “I am tired of this place, and anxious to be gone,” Abigail replied, as he had expected. “Susan will be very worried about me. I had planned to send off a letter from London, before we left, but my step-mother and that maid were watching too closely, and would not have hesitated to read it. Even with the code we had devised, it seemed better not to risk it. Now I wish I had written after all.”

  “Susan would only worry more, if she expected you days ago,” Jeremy pointed out.

  “Yes, no doubt you are right.” She daintily spread some butter on a crumpet. If she accepted his proposal, this was how they would share breakfast during all the years to come … it was not a terrible prospect. You could have a rational discussion with Miss Trevelyan – Abigail. In the comparatively short time since their departure from London, they had become comfortable together. Her confession of her predicament had cleared the air, and the rejection of his impulsive proposal had not added more constraint … why not? Did she not see him as a man, but merely as Susan’s older brother? Jeremy scowled.

  The sound of a carriage arriving did not immediately catch their attention, since this was an occurrence that happened several times every day. They heard voices outside, and swift steps approaching.

  “Abby! And – Jeremy?” Susan stood on the doorstep, with Northcote a step behind, before advancing to greet her friend with an impulsive hug, then turning to him. “I did not expect to see you so soon, but I’m glad to see you looking well, Jeremy.” She kissed his cheek. “What are you doing here with Abby? Is it true she had a bad accident?” She turned back to Abigail. “You look all right now. Are you?”