Winthrop Trilogy Box Set

by Burnett, May

  “I hope I am not breaking a confidence, but I feel that the matter is serious and urgent. As a representative of Lady Fenton’s family, I appeal to you to help me separate a young and innocent dupe from this dangerous parasite.”

  Parasite in reference to such an elegant lady seemed exaggerated, and struck a false note. So did the description of Milla as a helpless dupe. In any case, should the Major be telling him such confidential details on their very slight acquaintance? It was irregular, to say the least.

  “What you have told me is certainly reason for grave concern,” Barnaby replied. “I can assure you that I would like to protect Lady Fenton from any and all dangers and impostors. But she is her own mistress, and like you, I have no other instrument but persuasion at my disposal.”

  “She is very young to be her own mistress,” the Major said meditatively.

  “She married young, and was widowed soon after.” Surely that much was public knowledge.

  “And inherited her husband’s property free and clear?” the Major probed. Truly shameless, this fellow.

  “I am not familiar with the exact details,” Barnaby evaded the question. “There are widows who lose their income when they remarry, and understandably hesitate to do so. But a lady as lovely as Lady Fenton could easily find another husband as rich, or richer than her first, so that should hardly matter in her case.”

  That put a frown on the Major’s face, he saw with satisfaction. Milla’s fortune was irrevocably hers, but there was no reason to make her more attractive to this cad, or to encourage his mercenary designs.

  “How long are you planning to stay in Regensbad?” the Major enquired after a moment. “Are you going to take the waters? If so, let me recommend the Mental Water Treatment.”

  Barnaby raised his brows. “Have you taken it yourself? What are the benefits?”

  The Major chuckled. “Indeed, I have, and can highly recommend it. It has proved beneficial to several of my ventures, by pre-disposing the mind towards success.”

  That sounded like superstitious mumbo-jumbo. “If you say so,” Barnaby said, unwilling to debate a matter that held little interest for him. “What of your own plans, Major? You are from Prussia, you said? Are you here for health reasons?”

  The Major grinned. “More business than health reasons, but those flew out the window the moment I caught sight of Lady Fenton, at a concert in the local city hall.”

  Barnaby remembered that the Major had talked of some business to Milla, but judged it politic not to mention it to this glib rival. Surely Milla did not have the poor taste to prefer this soldier to him? But there was no accounting for taste. In his way, Barnaby was loath to admit, the Major was a handsome man.

  The Prussian excused himself as soon as he had finished his smoke, and walked off in the direction of the Hotel’s back door. With relief, Barnaby spat out his own half-finished cigar and looked around for a suitable place of disposal. He’d have to order a drink to get the vile taste out of his mouth.

  “Mr. Winthrop,” another voice addressed him in perfect English from behind a lilac bush. He stiffened. Had somebody eavesdropped on his conversation with the Major? For what purpose?

  To his surprise, the grey-haired man who emerged from behind the greenery was the servant who had announced him to Milla earlier in the day, a tall bewhiskered fellow.

  “I am Louis, Lady Fenton’s major-domo,” he introduced himself with a handsome bow.

  Barnaby raised his brows. “Is your mistress aware that you are loitering here, listening to other people’s conversations?”

  “Of course. She is interested in the Major’s dealings. I would urge you to avoid the treatment he suggested at all costs.”

  “Why?” That was the fellow’s first concern? Odd. “I promise you I have no desire to subject myself to any treatments here. I won’t even drink the waters if I can help it.”

  “Good,” the older man said. “As for the rest, don’t trust anything this Major tells you. He certainly does not have my lady’s best interests at heart.”

  “Then why doesn’t she just send him to the devil? Nobody forces her to consort with the fellow, or to stay in this godforsaken spa. The whole wide world is open to her.”

  “She has her reasons. You had better ask her yourself,” the servant replied.

  “From your name, you are French,” Barnaby said slowly, “and so is Madame Rallien. How seriously should I take the Major’s warning against that lady, do you suppose?” Ten to one the servant was in league with his countrywoman. It was suspicious that both spoke English without accent, a feat only a small minority of French ever managed. His own French instantly betrayed his English origins.

  “Madame Rallien is indeed the daughter of a notorious swindler,” Louis admitted, “but she herself is honourable and honest. What kind of world would it be, if we all were forever identified with the crimes of our parents, could never overcome our pasts?”

  “I hope you are right,” Barnaby said. “Not that I have any right to interfere in Lady Fenton’s household affairs. As I told the Major, she is her own mistress.”

  “And mine, and Madame Rallien’s,” Louis said, smiling slightly. “She is a most unusual lady, who should not be underestimated.”

  “We agree on that much.” Barnaby belatedly remembered that it was bad form to gossip about a lady with her servant. “Unless you are going to explain why you were here listening to the Major and me, I’m going to turn in.”

  “It is not my secret to tell,” Louis said. “When next you call on Lady Fenton, you may ask her. Good night, Sir.”

  As Barnaby returned to his room, he wondered which of the two men posed the greater danger to Milla. She was surrounded by intrigues, so much was clear, and he would have to step carefully. Could it be true that the companion, and perhaps the major-domo too, had some hold over Milla? It would have to be something serious, for she had proven in London that she was not easily cowed or threatened.

  He would have said that Milla was too clever and tough to succumb to any such snare, but then there was that letter to Abigail, that had read like a veiled appeal for help. What kind of imbroglio had Milla got herself involved in? Was she in financial trouble, or something even worse? How could he extricate her and carry her off to England?

  He had not found the solution to any of his questions, when at last he fell into an unquiet sleep.

  Chapter 14

  The next morning dawned bright and sunny. When Barnaby arrived at Milla’s lodgings with two horses from the livery stable, she was ready, in a stylish silver-grey riding habit and black hat. Thank God she was not one of those women who always kept a fellow waiting. Within five minutes of his arrival, they set off at a brisk trot.

  “Where exactly are we going?” Barnaby asked over the clatter of hooves on the ancient cobblestones.

  “A small castle about half an hour from here, on that hill in the distance. It is a picturesque medieval ruin. The owners gave it up because of the window tax, I am told. Even for nobles, it was too expensive to pay.”

  “Ah, taxes. Nobody likes them today, either,” Barnaby said. “Money was a factor in every family’s life over the centuries.” Would she confide whatever troubles had impelled her to write to Abigail?

  Milla smiled enigmatically. “Indeed. Without my money I would not have been abducted that time in London, and you would not have had to come to the rescue.”

  He remembered the occasion. She had been very lucky indeed, to escape unscathed. “I do hope nothing that terrible has happened to you since? Sporting one’s wealth openly can be dangerous.”

  “It is true that money attracts the notice of undesirable characters.”

  He looked at her expectantly, hoping for more, but Milla did not elaborate. Well, they had hours before them, he would not press for confidences yet. Her brow was serene, and she did not appear unduly worried about anything at this moment. “I have often thought of you, all alone, so far from your home and family.”


  “You could have come after me.”

  He started and turned his head, tried to gauge her expression. Did she mean it? From the calm voice, the classic profile, he could not tell.

  “The way you left London, without saying good-bye, did not imply that you would have welcomed that. You must have been aware that I hoped for a future with you.” He was glad that his voice remained even, that the old hurt and doubt were not audible from his tone. His hands tightened on the reins, and he had to unclench them with an effort.

  “Ah.” She slowed her mare, studied him attentively. “If I had stayed a few weeks longer, had encouraged you to propose and said yes, what would our life have been like?”

  That was easy to answer … he had thought, far too often, of what might have been. “Well, a fashionable wedding like Abigail and Jeremy’s, and I am to receive one of the family estates when I marry – in Somersetshire. We would have made our home there and in London, I suppose.”

  Milla’s face did not indicate that she regretted the life he described. Was that why she had left, that she had judged it too dull a prospect? “Mind you,” he said, “I was by never certain you would accept me; your signs were contradictory. One day you seemed to encourage me, the next you were an ice maiden.”

  She blinked, and briefly bit her lips. She was not feeling guilty, was she? Yet when she spoke, her voice was even. “I suppose that is true. The reason, in hindsight, is that I did not know my own mind. I liked you well enough, but I had just spent two years in quiet near-seclusion, mourning a man I hardly knew.”

  Could the answer really be so simple? For a minute they rode in silence as he mulled her reply. He sensed there was more to it; until Jeremy and Abigail’s wedding, overall the signs had been propitious. Had something spooked her? “I see: you were not ready. Now that you have seen something of the world, and have had a chance to spread your wings, do you feel differently?”

  “You’ll have to risk a proposal in form to know the answer,” Milla replied, and spurred her mare. Riding behind her, he admired her straight seat as she cantered, her effortless mastery of the spirited animal.

  She slowed down eventually. “To come back to the subject we discussed, Mr. Winthrop, after such a long time I hardly know you well enough for such an important decision. You have only just arrived. Don’t you think we should both take time to consider whether any closer relationship is in our best interests? Are you certain that an unconventional, headstrong wife would fit into your placid life, the circle of your friends and family?”

  Barnaby had considered this very question during the early days of their acquaintance, but it was long answered in his mind. “I don’t need any more time to know what I want, and my life has lately been too placid and conventional for my tastes,” he said. “Now that we have met once again, I plan to make that offer in form within the week. In any case, the only opinions which count are yours and mine. Nobody else has a vote.” His conviction rang in his voice. She should know that there were no lingering doubts on his side; and he would do his best to remove any on her part.

  Milla’s eyes twinkled, and a smile erupted, only to be quickly quenched as her face turned serious once again. “I am not the same woman I was in London, Mr. Winthrop.” He hated that she used his last name, like any stranger. “As I said, I was not ready to settle down. I was also still uncertain of my place in society, unaccustomed to move in fashionable circles. My travels have enriched my life with many new experiences, new knowledge, and new friends. I am glad, after all, that I left England.”

  So only he had regretted their separation? Did she want to hurt him on purpose?

  “New experiences,” he repeated, his voice dry.

  She smiled ironically, guessing at his thoughts with uncanny accuracy. “You are wondering how many lovers I have taken during my travels?”

  Anger rose in him, swift and hot. He forced it down. “I only regret that I was not there when you gathered your experiences, of whatever kind.”

  “Let’s be frank.” Her tone was cool.

  “I thought we already were.” Indeed, he could not imagine such blunt speaking with any other lady of his acquaintance. “I have no right to wonder, unless you give it to me. And even then, the past is not relevant. I only want your future, but I want all of it.”

  They had arrived at the small, ruined castle, which loomed atop a wooded hill. “Let’s tie the horses up here, and explore the ruins by foot,” Milla suggested. A few minutes later, they climbed the treacherous, half-broken stone path leading to the interior of the structure. Two towers were still standing. Their small, empty windows high up were open to wind and weather.

  They contemplated the scene of abandonment and the forests and dales before them. “I grew up in a castle, with just such thick walls,” Milla remarked.

  “Yes, I have heard much about your family castle from Susan and your brother.” They had worked very hard to make the forbidding, old-fashioned place habitable, at great expense.

  “It was not quite as much a ruin as this place.” Milla strolled amidst haphazard piles of stone. “Have you any idea of the sort of youth I had?”

  “Not exactly. I know your parents drowned when you were quite young, and you became your oldest brother’s ward.”

  “Edward was a vicious, drunken gambler, whose idea of guardianship was to leave me alone for months on end, without any money to pay for my food or clothes. Between the ages of ten and sixteen, I would have starved but for the fish I managed to catch and the meagre produce of the castle’s kitchen garden. The soil in Cornwall is not rich. I dressed in castoffs from the attics and had no education to speak of, as he would not pay for a governess.”

  “Good God!” Barnaby had suspected that her early life had been grim, but this was worse than he could have imagined.

  “I survived, as you can see. It was bad to be left all alone with a few decrepit servants who had nowhere else to go, when Edward did not pay their wages for years on end. It was much worse on those occasions when Edward came down from London with his drunken friends, a set of vicious rakes.”

  He stared at her in consternation. A beautiful girl child in such a situation… his blood ran cold.

  “No, don’t look so horrified.” Her voice was wry. “I was not raped, though it was close on several occasions. I learned to flee and hide with my fishermen friends, who taught me how to defend myself. A few drunken gropings and sloppy kisses are the worst I suffered.”

  “That’s bad enough, considering your young age. Your brother tolerated that? He should be horsewhipped.” The man was dead and good riddance, or Barnaby would still call him to account.

  “Edward did not care what happened to me. He gambled away the eight thousand pounds set aside as my dowry. He sold my mother’s jewels, though he had no right to them. He sold anything he could - the pictures, the silverware. When I learned of his death, I was relieved.”

  So this was why she was so hard, so eager for independence. “I hope matters improved when North inherited the title?”

  “Not that I noticed, at least for the first few months. I heard nothing from him, there was still no money. He was in London, working to pay off Edward’s gambling debts, but I knew nothing of it. I went on as I had before, fishing and going my own way. Then, one day, without warning, he arrived with his new wife.”

  “My sister.”

  “Exactly, your sister Susan. They were shocked that I was not the meek young lady they had expected. I hated her on sight.”

  Barnaby had to protest that. “Susan is a good sort, kind-hearted and generous.”

  “Oh, to be sure. But I was in no mood to be objective, or to appreciate her good qualities. I resented her assumption of authority, her fine education and elegance, her expensive clothes. She was everything I coveted, possessed all the things I craved. All I had was my independence, and now I was to give that up as well. It was not to be borne.”

  He glanced at the proudly held head, the way her pretty chin was rais
ed, under those kissable lips. “I see. Had you taken the time to get to know Susan, she would gladly have helped you assimilate to society.”

  “What, allow her to reform me like a charity project, in order to marry me off to some suitable man when I was sufficiently tamed?”

  “The mistreatment you suffered had not broken your spirit, at any rate.”

  Her eyes flashed. “At times, pride and anger were all I had. They are no adequate substitute for regular food, but better than nothing.”

  Barnaby contemplated this statement. Having never had to miss a meal in his life, he could not begin to fathom such a lonely and penurious existence. And yet… “That unhappy, neglected girl you describe has no outward resemblance to the elegant lady before me. It is difficult to combine the two in my mind.”

  Milla shrugged. “She is still here, inside me, though the elegant lady is also real enough. Abigail helped me lay the foundation, and Veronique to put on the finishing strokes.”

  “It is an amazing achievement,” he said sincerely.

  “Thank you. As I said, two years ago I had learned how to pretend to be a lady, how to converse at a dinner party, what subjects would shock and which were safe. But I had not yet applied my knowledge. I had learned to read French and Italian, and speak a little, but I was not fluent. I was not fully fledged.”

  “Do any of us ever stop growing and learning? I am amazed that you now speak them fluently, when you have only been travelling for a comparatively short time. And German too, I suspect?”

  She brushed off his admiration with an impatient gesture. “Languages are easy, though I have an English accent. My ear is not nearly as good as Veronique’s. But I did not mention my childhood so you would admire my belated education. We had been speaking of lovers, had you forgotten?”

  He swallowed. “It is not a subject I like to dwell on.”

  “Neither do I. After the loutish attentions of my brother’s fellow wastrels, for the longest time the thought of lying with a man by choice struck me as repugnant.”