Deborah Hale

by The Bride Ship

  “Do not fret.” She let him take one of her bags but clung to the other with no intention of surrendering it. “After our weeks at sea, a little exertion will do us good.”

  “He’s welcome to carry mine if he wants to,” Vita muttered, just loud enough for Jocelyn to hear.

  “I beg your pardon?” said Mr. Duckworth.

  Silencing Vita with a stern frown, Jocelyn answered, “We will be most grateful for a cart to haul the trunks. It was kind of you to come all the way from town to meet us.”

  The young man cast a shy but admiring glance at the girls who had accompanied Jocelyn. “It is a pleasure and an honor rather than a duty, ma’am. Allow me to show you around the place so you can get settled as soon as possible.”

  A host of welcome smells greeted Jocelyn when Mr. Duckworth threw open the front door of Prince’s Lodge and stood back to let her enter. The faint reek of lye, camphor, brass and wood polish overpowered any hint of mustiness. Someone had given the place a thorough cleaning, and not long ago, either. A faint whiff of wood smoke told her at least some of the fires had been lit. While not strictly necessary on such a mild day, they did dispel any trace of dampness from the air.

  While the rest of Jocelyn’s charges disembarked from the bride ship and made their way up to the lodge, Mr. Duckworth conducted her on a tour of the place from the locked wine cellar to the rooftop lookout with its spectacular view. As she peered into the bedrooms, Jocelyn found herself reckoning how many girls each would hold and who should share quarters with whom.

  “Would it be possible,” she asked, “to fetch a few more beds from town and convert the little sewing room on the ground floor to sleeping quarters as a temporary measure?”

  “More beds are already on their way, ma’am.” Mr. Duckworth looked pleased to inform her of the fact. “They should be here before nightfall. Is there anything else you require?”

  “A kitchen would be handy.” Jocelyn felt rather foolish having to point it out. They were standing in quite a grand dining room. If the villa was equipped for guests to dine on such a scale, surely it must be equipped to cook for them.

  “Of course.” Mr. Duckworth beckoned her toward a window that looked onto the grounds behind the lodge. “I should have mentioned it before.”

  He pointed at the nearest of several trim outbuildings. With its tall, arched windows, it had the appearance of a chapel. “That is the kitchen and the cook’s quarters. Because this place was designed as a summer residence, the kitchen is separate so its fires do not overheat the house.”

  “Clever.” Jocelyn spotted a small black woman bustling around the kitchen. “Is that our cook?”

  The girls could all share in the duties of housemaids, but having someone to prepare their meals would be a great boon.

  Mr. Duckworth nodded. “Miz Ada is on loan from Government House for as long as you need her. She knows the kitchen at Prince’s Lodge well. She was part of the household staff when the duke resided here.”

  “I’m certain she will be a valuable addition to our establishment.” Jocelyn strove to sound poised and gracious, though part of her wanted to dance around the dining room. When she and her charges had set out for Nova Scotia, she’d never dared hope they would find such excellent accommodations.

  Mr. Duckworth lingered at the window for a further moment. “Once you get settled in, you and your young ladies must explore the grounds. They are quite lovely, and will only grow more so in the weeks to come.”

  “I daresay we will make good use of them.” Jocelyn pulled out the chair at the head of the dining table and sank onto it for a moment. She found herself looking forward to being mistress of a fine house again, even if it was only temporary. “After all those weeks cooped up aboard ship, we will be anxious to stretch our legs and enjoy some fresh scenery.”

  Just then Lily appeared in the dining room doorway, looking flushed and flustered. “I beg your pardon, Mrs. Finch. Sir. All the girls are here, now. Some of them are arguing over which rooms they will get. Can you come?”

  “I’ll be along directly.” Jocelyn stifled an exasperated sigh as she rose from the chair. Clearly it was too soon to think of rest yet. Her mission had barely begun. “Tell them I am on my way. That may settle things.”

  “Very good, ma’am.” Lily disappeared as quickly as she had come.

  Jocelyn turned to the governor’s aide. “Thank you for the tour of the house and for all your help, Mr. Duckworth.” If his master had been half so obliging, their stay in Halifax would have gotten off to a far more pleasant start. “If there is nothing else, I beg you will excuse me to begin organizing our household.”

  “I will not detain you, ma’am. I should be getting back to town. There are only two more matters I meant to mention.”

  “And they would be…?” She tried not to sound impatient. Much as she enjoyed the young man’s company, she needed to get the girls settled. She did not want him to see how firm a hand she might have to use, in case he carried word of it back to the governor.

  “Colonel Carmont will be sending a small guard detail from town, ma’am. The first should be here before nightfall. They will be relieved every twelve hours.”

  “Armed guards? Is that necessary? This looks like such a peaceful spot.” Would their mission be to keep trespassers out or to keep Jocelyn and her charges virtual prisoners on this secluded estate?

  “His Excellency has ordered it, ma’am.” Mr. Duckworth looked regretful but resolved. “And I believe it is necessary. The road at the foot of the hill is the coach route to Windsor. There is often considerable traffic on it and not always of the best kind. A house full of young ladies might pose an attraction to undesirable company.”

  “Oh, very well.” Never let it be said she lacked the wit to bow to the inevitable. “If His Excellency decrees we must be guarded, then I suppose we have no choice.”

  Hearing raised voices in the distance, she asked, “What was the second matter you wished to mention?”

  “Governor Kerr asked to be informed how soon you wish to begin conducting interviews with men in the colony who are seeking wives. Would you like notices placed in the Gazette? His Excellency suggested a system of written applications might be useful, similar to the way land patents are granted.”

  Interviews? Newspaper notices? Applications! Why not just hold a cattle market and be done with it?

  With great difficulty Jocelyn mastered her outrage. After all, none of this was Mr. Duckworth’s idea. “I believe I should discuss those details with His Excellency myself. Once we get settled, I shall pay the governor a call to review my plans.”

  Perhaps Mr. Duckworth sensed the indignation her temperate words masked. “Are you certain that will be necessary, ma’am? I should be pleased to convey any messages you might have for His Excellency.”

  She should make every effort to avoid that disagreeable man, Jocelyn told herself. Why then did a sense of anticipation race through her at the prospect of confronting him?

  “Thank you for your kind offer, sir, but I believe this is a matter the governor and I should settle face-to-face.”

  Sir Robert set aside the preliminary survey for a series of canals to link Halifax Harbor with the Bay of Fundy. He dragged one hand down his face.

  Two days had passed since his chess match with Mrs. Finch and Government House had never been quieter—like a lull in the wake of a storm. Yet the governor could not concentrate on his work. A strange restlessness gripped him, propelling him out of his chair to pace his study. It felt as if he were waiting for something…or something was missing. Ridiculous notions, both.

  Duckworth hurried in just then, bearing more documents for Sir Robert’s attention.

  The young man gave a start to find him out from behind his desk. “Is everything all right, sir? Is there anything you require?”

  Some medicine to cure him of this unaccountable malaise, perhaps. But Sir Robert had no idea what form that remedy might take. “Nothing is wrong. I thought
it might do me good to stretch my legs. I don’t walk half enough these days.”

  Perhaps that was his problem.

  “Mrs. Finch said much the same thing, sir.” Duckworth slid the documents he had brought beneath the pile already lying on the desk awaiting Sir Robert’s attention. “Yesterday, when I told her how fine the lodge grounds are. She said after being cooped up on that ship for so many weeks, she and the young ladies would be very glad to stretch their legs.”

  Once again Sir Robert congratulated himself on settling Mrs. Finch and her charges at Prince’s Lodge. Out of sight, out of mind. At least she should be.

  “You say they approved of the place?” Sir Robert knew he had already asked this at least twice and both times been assured it was the case. He did not know what made him ask again. It was not as if he doubted Duckworth.

  Diplomatic fellow that he was, Duckworth gave no sign he had answered the same question twice already. “Mrs. Finch seemed to think it would suit them very well, sir. A pity you could not have stayed yesterday to see how well she liked the place.”

  “Er…yes…duty called, I’m afraid.” Strangely enough, it had decided to call at the very moment he spied the Hestia’s sails from the lodge’s rooftop lookout. “I’m sure you gave them a much more congenial welcome than I could have.”

  He could hardly have done worse than calling them a pack of harlots in front of half the town. Sir Robert writhed with shame whenever he recalled it. Yet part of him wished he had lingered at Prince’s Lodge to give Mrs. Finch a more courteous welcome.

  “Will there be anything else, sir?” asked Duckworth.

  Sir Robert thought for a moment. “Could you fetch me a cup of coffee? It might help me concentrate better on my work.”

  With that he returned to his desk and picked up the canal survey. The matter required his most diligent attention and that was what he would give it.

  His aide headed off in search of coffee. A few moments later, Sir Robert heard a tap on the door. Thinking Duckworth must have his hands too full to turn the knob, he rose and strode to the door.

  But when he pulled it open, there stood Jocelyn Finch looking beautiful but vexed. All Sir Robert’s restlessness left him. Could she be what he’d been waiting for, what he’d been missing? Perhaps he’d grown so accustomed to his work being interrupted by her that he could not settle down to it properly until he’d dealt with her daily intrusion.

  “Madam.” He bowed and beckoned her into his study. “I am surprised to see you in town so soon. I thought you might still be getting settled into your accommodations. Pray what can I do for you today?”

  She looked around his study with an air of vague disapproval. “Perhaps you are surprised to see me in town so soon because you know I lack any conveyance to make the journey. Was that your intention—to isolate us in the country where we might not disturb the peace of your colony?”

  Why must she always assume the worst about him? “I assure you it was an oversight for which I apologize. I will place a carriage and team at your disposal right away.”

  His aide returned with the coffee and received a most cordial greeting from the lady. Sir Robert wished he’d ordered something stronger to drink.

  “Duckworth, it seems I have been remiss in my hospitality. Can you arrange suitable transport for Mrs. Finch? We do not want her stranded out in the country, after all.”

  “Of course not, sir.” Duckworth handed him the cup of coffee. “I shall see to it at once.”

  As he passed Mrs. Finch, she favored the young man with a smile of such luminous warmth it took Sir Robert’s breath. “My sincere thanks to you, Mr. Duckworth, for all you have done to make us comfortable out at the lodge. Once we have some means of getting to town, our situation will be quite perfect.”

  Duckworth acknowledged her praise with a self-conscious nod then hurried away.

  Sir Robert barely suppressed a huff. Did the silly creature suppose his young aide had undertaken all those tasks on his own initiative? Perhaps it was easier for her to believe that than to expect any consideration from him. The notion hit Sir Robert like the sharp swat of a schoolmaster’s cane.

  “I hope you were not obliged to walk in all the way from the lodge.” He pulled out a chair for her.

  She did not appear flushed or out of breath, and what he could see of her shoes did not look soiled by spring mud.

  “I am more resourceful than that, sir.” She sank onto the chair. “When our guard detail returned to town this morning, I sent a note with them to Mrs. Carmont, who kindly drove out. She offered to keep an eye on the girls and lent me her carriage so I might come and discuss the matter with you.”

  Sir Robert resumed his seat behind his desk. “I do not doubt your resourcefulness, Mrs. Finch.” He took a sip of his coffee then remembered his manners. “I beg your pardon. Can I offer you some refreshment?”

  “No, thank you, sir. This is not a social call. Nor did I come here only to request a carriage.”

  He’d feared there might be more to it. What else had he done wrong? He raised his eyebrows in a mute question.

  Mrs. Finch inhaled a deep breath, as if bracing herself for a distasteful task. “I wished to speak to you about the means by which we will arrange matches between the young ladies in my charge and the eligible men of your colony.”

  Was that all? Sir Robert felt on firmer ground. “Splendid! Perhaps Duckworth told you what I proposed? I believe the most efficient strategy would be to post notices in the Gazette asking interested parties to make written application. Each man could explain his circumstances and outline his requirements for a wife. Then you could choose a suitable candidate from among your young ladies and arrange an introduction.”

  He was so pleased with the idea that, when Mrs. Finch did not make an immediate reply, he charged on. “No doubt there will be far more applicants than available brides. That will allow you to choose the most desirable men in terms of prospects, situation and habits. Should we ask them to submit a character reference as to their sobriety, temperament and so on?”

  Mrs. Finch sprang to her feet, obliging Sir Robert to rise out of respect. “Why do we not just set up an auction block in the Grand Parade and sell the girls to the highest bidders? Get it all over with in an afternoon.”

  “You might be on to something there.” The words were out of his mouth before he registered the look of outrage on the lady’s face. “Oh. You’re joking, aren’t you?”

  “On the contrary, sir.” She planted her hands on the edge of his desk and leaned forward. “What I suggested is only slightly more outrageous than your proposal. I find nothing amusing in either.”

  Sir Robert shook his head. “I confess I do not understand the difficulty. The system has worked most efficiently for granting land patents.”

  “You truly do not understand, do you?” Her indignant glare muted to a softer look…of pity? “We are not talking about land or livestock but the future happiness of a man and a woman. I will tolerate nothing less than true love matches for the young women in my charge. If you cared anything for the men of your colony, you would accept nothing less for them, either.”

  How dare the woman imply he did not care about his colonists? Sir Robert planted his hands on the opposite side of his desk, mirroring her assertive stance. “May I remind you that we are not in some Mayfair drawing room. Parts of Nova Scotia are little better than wilderness. The lives of the colonists are difficult—sometimes dangerous. They do not have time for romantic fancies out of storybooks. Marriage here is a practical matter and should be approached in a practical manner.”

  As he traded glares with her over his desk, Sir Robert was possessed of a mad urge to lean even closer, seize Jocelyn Finch by the shoulders and crush his lips against hers with furious passion!

  Chapter Six

  Good heavens! The man was looking at her as if he wanted to reach across his desk and throttle her. With a smothered gasp, Jocelyn stepped back. But she could not allow his outr
ageous assertion to go unchallenged.

  “You have never been in love, or you would not talk such rot. True love may be romantic, but it is far more than a fancy. It has the power to lighten toil and make hardship more bearable.”

  The governor flinched, almost as though he had feelings capable of being injured.

  Before she made the mistake of feeling sorry for him and before he could draw upon his arsenal of cold, practical logic to contradict her, Jocelyn pressed on. “A true love match is not contrived from notices, applications and interviews. It requires a special atmosphere to flourish—merry music, dancing, congenial company…magic.”

  Sir Robert fixed her with a dazed stare. “Are you suggesting we should mount a Season in Halifax?”

  For one delirious instant Jocelyn forgot all her grievances against the man. If his very substantial mahogany desk had not stood between them, she might have thrown her arms around his neck and kissed him!

  “Of course! Why did I not think of it? You are a perfect genius, sir, when you focus your mind in the proper direction!”

  “I am not certain I deserve your praise, ma’am.” He looked positively staggered.

  “But you do!” Ideas frolicked through Jocelyn’s mind. Each new one buoyed her spirits higher. “Just think of it. My young ladies can be presented to the King’s viceroy in Nova Scotia, just as if they were making their debut in London. Then there will be a succession of entertainments at which they can be introduced to the men of your colony. Balls, routs…picnics when the weather gets warmer! I daresay your colonists will enjoy the opportunity to socialize.”

  “I believe they ought to socialize less and put their energies to better use.”

  For some reason, the governor’s protest only made Jocelyn laugh. The poor man was quite impossible, but she was determined to have her way. “Do not be so severe, Sir Robert. A little more socializing might do you good. Now, how soon can you host a levee at which my young ladies may be presented?”