by Lori Wick
Who Brings Forth the Wind,
Kensington Chronicles #3
Lori Wick
Reflections of a Thankful Heart
during the nineteenth century, the palace at Kensington represented
the noble heritage of Britain's young queen and the simple
elegance of a never-to-be-forgotten era. The Victorian Age was the
pinnacle of England's dreams, a time of sweeping adventure and gentle
love. It is during this time, when hope was bright with promise, that this
series is set.
7LONDON
november 1852
"you're a buffoon, henry. I was a fool to have married you
and an even greater fool to have given you sons. They're sure
to grow to be just like you."
"Please, Ramona, please come back to me. Leave that man
and return home. If not for my sake, then for William's and
Tanner's. They need you."
"Get out of my sight, Henry, and take those brats with
you."
"I'm sorry to disturb you, your Grace, but--"
"You forget yourself, Price. My brother, William, is the
duke."
"I'm sorry, Lord Tanner, but your brother is dead. A fire at
his London town house. Your wife was found with him. She
died also."
8
Lord Tanner Richardson, Duke of Cambridge, woke with a
start, sitting up in one violent motion. The bedclothes were
drenched with sweat, and Tanner's chest heaved as he recalled
the nightmares that so vividly portrayed his past.
The dreams hadn't changed in all these years. His mother's
laugh was just as scornful, his wife's infidelity just as real.
Bleakly content that he hadn't dreamt about either of them in
ages, he threw the covers back and rose, ignoring his robe as
he went to the window of his bedroom. The room was cold
and the night dark, but his eyes still caught the images of bare
trees blowing in the wind
"Do you need something, my lord?" a voice spoke softly
from the doorway.
"No, Price. Go back to bed." The duke's voice was cold, but
the experienced servant knew better than to take this personally.
The door was closed silently. It was some minutes before
Tanner moved back to the bed
Climbing back onto the mattress, he recalled the words
his Uncle Edmond spoke during dinner.
"You need a wife, Tanner. You can scowl at me all you
want, and even walk from the room, but it won't change the
fact that you need another wife."
Tanner now gave a mirthless laugh as he settled the covers
around him. If his uncle broached that forbidden subject
again, he would stop him, even if he had to plant his fist on the
older man's mouth to do it. He fell asleep telling himself that
Edmond was wrong; he had no need of a wife, no need at all,
none...
middlesbrough, england
march 1853
anastasia daniels sat on the creek bank and stared down
at the fishing line that lay undisturbed in the water. Four fish
on another line lay at her side, but she'd set a goal of five and
was not leaving the bank until she had them. However, her
mind was beginning to wander. She pushed a stray lock from
her face, wishing she had taken time to brush the honey-gold
mass or at least secure it out of her eyes.
"Lady Stacy," a voice spoke from behind her, succeeding in
drawing her attention from the surface of the water.
"Oh, good morning, Peters."
"Good morning, my lady. Breakfast is ready, and your
grandfather is asking for you."
Stacy was on the verge of telling him she would come
immediately when the pole twitched in her hands. She gave
all her attention to the catch, and in just moments expertly
pulled in a fat trout. She then turned to Peters with a huge
smile that he found most contagious.
"Tell my grandfather I'll be right along."
Peters went on his way, and Stacy rose gracefully from the
bank. The weighty line in her hand felt wonderful as she
stepped lightly over the path and headed for the kitchen.
10
11
"Here you go, Mercy," Stacy nearly sang with triumph. "I
think we'll enjoy these for lunch."
"I'll see to it, Lady Stacy,1' Mercy, the family cook, told her
fondly. She shook her head with true tenderness as Stacy
rushed out to clean up for breakfast.
Forty minutes later Stacy and her grandfather, Viscount
Andrew Daniels, were finishing their morning meal.
"Did I tell you I caught five fish for lunch?"
"Five!" the old man exclaimed. "Why didn't you take me?"
"I went very early," she explained. "It took me forever,
though. I must be losing my touch."
Andrew's only reply to this was a small grunt of disbelief.
"Peters says there's a letter here from London," Andrew
commented
"Oh, it must be Lucinda. Why don't we go into the salon,
and I'll read it?"
Stacy began as soon as they were settled:
The weather here is cold right now, but I can tell
that spring is around the corner. It will be welcome
as the cold gets into my bones these days as never
before.
I had two of Mother's pieces reset, the emerald
and the ruby, and I'm hoping Stacy will be interested
in them. They're quite lovely and up-to-date
in style. I'll hold onto them until such a time as Stacy
can view them herself.
Stacy stopped reading at that point, and after a moment
her grandfather questioned her.
"Is that all she says?"
"No," Stacy admitted, the letter still in her hand. "She goes
on about my age and birthday, both of which she has wrong."
"That's normal," Andrew muttered "If she mentions your
age, then she must have a bee in her bonnet about your
coming to London."
Stacy said nothing to this, only sat quietly and watched her
grandfather where he rested in his favorite chair. He returned
her look, but she knew he saw little; his eyesight seemed to
weaken daily.
"Read the rest, Stacy." The command was soft, but Stacy
complied immediately.
Stacy will be 21 at the end of October, and I can't
believe she's never come to London. It's criminal of
you, Andrew, not to let her come and try to make a
life for herself here. I'm still angry with you that she
had no coming out. It's time Stacy marry and start a
family. I know you agree, but you're too stubborn to
admit it.
I'll forgive and forget all the past, however, if
you'll allow Stacy to come next month and stay for
the entire summer, from the first of May to the end
of July. I won't settle for a day less. I've been begging
you for years, and it's the least you can do
.
I await your letter. Please do not let me down,
Andrew. Love to you and Stacy.
Lucinda
Andrew listened as Stacy folded the letter and wished he
could see her clearly enough to read her expression. He knew
she would go in an instant if he asked her, but he wasn't certain
she would tell him the truth as to whether or not she wanted to
go-
From
the time she was a little girl Stacy had hated confrontation
or unhappiness of any type. Andrew was quite certain
that she would walk on hot coals if she thought it would please
him.
"Would you care to go to London, Stacy?"
"Would you like me to?"
The old man smiled. He had known very well she would
answer his question with a question of her own.
12
13
"As a matter of fact, I think it might be agood idea," he said
after a moment, keeping his tone carefully neutral. "I don't
feel as Lucinda does, that you need to make a life for yourself
there, unless of course you want to, but it might be a summer
you would really enjoy."
"All right," Stacy agreed, but her voice told him something
was wrong.
"You're worried about something."
"Two things, actually," she admitted. "I'm afraid Lucinda
will be determined to marry me off."
Andrew nodded. Stacy was a tall girl, nearly six feet and
with a statuesque figure. None of the local boys had wanted a
wife, even one with the face of an angel, who towered over
them.
"I'll set her straight long before you go," he assured her.
"What else troubles you?"
"The train ride. London is so far away, and it frightens me a
little to contemplate making the ride alone."
Andrew's heart sank. He had been hoping that she would
be bothered by something plausible, such as London itself, so
that he could with a clear conscience tell Lucinda she wouldn't
be able to come.
He did not have the extra staff to send someone on the
train with Stacy. However, just the week before his man,
Peters, had told him the Binks were headed to London with
their daughter Milly to shop for her coming out. He knew they
would be delighted to have Stacy with them.
Careful to keep biased emotion from his voice, he told
Stacy this. If Stacy believed he wanted her to go, she would
pack that hour. If she sensed he was hesitant, nothing could
draw her away.
In just a matter of words it was settled. Andrew dictated a
letter to Stacy for his sister on the spot, informing Lucinda of
his expectations for Stacy's trip. He also reminded his forgetful
sister that Stacy was approaching her twenty-second year
and that her birthday was at the beginning of October.
He sent Stacy to post the letter as soon as it was ready and
then rang for Peters.
"How did she seem?"
"Fine, my lord."
"Not upset?"
"No."
"Her face? What was on her face?"
This line of questioning was quite common for Peters, so
he answered without hesitation as he led his lordship to his
bedroom.
"She looked thoughtful, sir. Not upset or overly excited,
just thoughtful."
Andrew heaved a great sigh of relief. Next he would have
to check with his cousin's young wife, Elena, for Stacy would
be certain to visit her while in the village. If Peters had missed
anything, Elena certainly would not.
Elena Daniels sat across the parlor from Stacy just an hour
later and marveled, not for the first time, at her looks. She was
like a Viking queen with her thick, honey-blonde hair that
hung as straight as a line and her beautiful figure, neither of
which Stacy seemed to be aware in the slightest. She carried
herself proudly, and just looking at her, one would not guess
how shy and timid she could be.
"So what do you think?" Stacy, who had told Elena all
about the plans, wished to know.
"I think if you want to go, then you should." It sounded
harmless to Elena, and she was able to answer Stacy calmly.
She was just two years older than Stacy, but her marriage to
Noel Daniels, who was 24 years her senior, along with the
birth of two daughters, made her feel years older.
"I think Papa wants me to go, and I know it would make
Aunt Lucinda happy," Stacy told her.
16
There goes that word again, Elena thought. Stacy must see
to it that everyone is happy. When would she see that the only
true happiness anyone could have was found in pleasing God?
"What about you, Stacy? Will it make you happy?"
Stacy's huge blue eyes were thoughtful. She knew she
could be very honest with Elena, but wasn't certain she should
be. She suspected that her grandfather would be checking
with Elena as he always did with Peters.
If the truth be told, Stacy said to herself, I would never
leave Middlesbrough and the safe haven of Papa's home.
She had never seen London with her own eyes, but the
drawings and paintings she'd studied made it look very large
and crowded.
"I think I've lost you," Elena commented, and Stacy was
swift to apologize.
"I'm sorry, Elena. I was thinking of London and how big it
must be. I'm to have three new gowns." Stacy's face took on a
look of excitement. "I'm hoping Aunt Lucinda will approve of
them."
"Will^at be enough? Maybe you should wait and shop for
a complefl wardrobe there," Elena suggested
Stacy looked doubtful. "I don't know if Papa can afford
that."
"What about your dowry?"
Stacy sighed; she'd thought of that. "He would never agree.
He's so certain that I'll marry someday."
"You could ask him."
Stacy's look of longing turned to one of fear. The question
might anger her grandfather, and she would hate that.
"Would you like me to ask him?" Elena offered, accurately
reading Stacy's mind. Quite suddenly Elena wanted Stacy's
trip to London to be very special, and thought that an extra
dress or two might help.
"No, Elena, but thank you for the offer."
Elena nodded. "I suppose you're wise to let it rest," she
commented. "You'll need that money when you marry,"
15
Stacy didn't reply, not wanting to contradict Elena. It
wasn't that she was against marriage, but if the suitable young
men Stacy had grown up with were any type of gauge, Stacy
was probably right in believing that she would never be wed.
It was true that she was as sweet and lovely a girl as any
man could hope to find, but her height was a definite disadvantage.
Stacy had had numerous dreams of meeting a tall
stranger who would not be put off by her height, but so far no
such man had materialized. Maybe in London... Stacy let the
thought hang.
Elena, who had noticed Stacy's thoughtful face but not
commented on it, had her own thoughts about the men in
/> London--men who might flirt with Stacy, making promises
with their eyes that they never intended to keep.
Stacy had been raised in a sheltered world, one that made
her very trusting. The thought of someone hurting Stacy was so
painful for Elena that for a moment she couldn't breathe.
Maybe it was best that Stacy not have those beautiful gowns.
Both women were pulled from their thoughts when Elena's
daughters, Harmony and Brittany, suddenly entered the room.
They were thrilled to see Stacy, who was one of tU,ir favorite
relatives. After swarming into her lap, they begged their
mother to let them stay with the adults for tea. All thoughts of
London were put aside.
17
"well, what do you think?" Stacy asked of Hettie. Hettie
Marks was the housekeeper for her grandfather, and had been
long before Stacy was born. She had been like a mother to her
since before her second birthday, when Stacy had come to live
with her grandfather at Morgan, their centuries-old family
estate.
"I think you'll do. Of course..." Hettie, who always had
something negative to say, added, "I've no doubt the styles in
London are quite different, and you might look like a country
mouse."
"But I am a country mouse," Stacy reasoned quietly. Hettie
could only shrug.
"You'll have to wait and see what Lady Warbrook has to
say."
These words were thrown over Hettie's shoulder as she
exited, leaving Stacy alone in her room. As soon as the door
shut, the younger woman's eyes swung back to the full-length
standing mirror.
She liked her new dress--in fact she liked all three of her
new dresses--but the overwhelming feeling that they all
looked the same hung heavy in Stacy's mind. When she had
questioned the seamstress, a Mrs. Crumb from outside the
village, the woman had assured her that the change in fabrics--
a light blue silk, a pale yellow satin, and a muted shade of red
velvet--would disguise any similarities.
Stacy had taken her at her word, but now that the dresses
were finished and ready to be worn, she wasn't so sure. Stacy
stared at herself a moment longer and then shrugged much
like Hettie had. There was little she could do about it now, and
because she was going to be visiting a woman past her sixtieth
year, Stacy assumed they would not be dining out each night of
the week.
As she changed out of her dress, Stacy's mind wandered to
her trip. She would be leaving in two days. Stacy let her