The Widow and the Warrior

by Sarah Winn

  If her suspicions were correct and the poor man had lost his virility due to his war wounds, might he think a marriage in name only was all he could have and be hoping to prolong their union? Should she remind him that this was not what they had agreed to? Why? If he could protect Toby from Silas Coyler and give them a good home, why should she wish to change that? She had had the great love of her life. What she and her son needed now was stability—safety.

  He gestured toward the two chairs and the round occasional table clustered in front of a window on the far side of the room. “Can we sit down for a few minutes? I need to talk to you about tomorrow.”

  As she sat across from him, she said, “I imagine you’re eager to return to your business.”

  Once he was seated, he said, “I thought it would be better if we discuss this privately, since you might hesitate to discuss this freely in front of my parents. “

  She silently stared at him. What did he want to talk about?

  “Daniel told me earlier that his uncle has made arrangements for us to meet with the magistrate at ten o’clock in the morning.”

  The reminder that the threat to her son still hung over their heads caused her heart to race. “Why do we have to meet him?”

  “Well, you did ignore a summons, so we have to convince the magistrate that you were just a frightened woman running for help. While Daniel did not say we should lie, he did suggest that we give the impression of a prior relationship to explain why you came to me.”

  “But—but you said if we married the threat would go away.”

  “And I believe it will, but once legal proceedings are started, they have to be brought to some sort of official closure, and it will be better if we show good faith in aiding that process.”

  Her voice rose to a squeak as she said, “But might this magistrate order us to give Toby to old man Coyler?”

  “If that should happen, it is just one ruling and we will, of course, appeal it. Fortunately, they don’t know where Toby is. No matter what this magistrate may order, he cannot give what he does not have.”

  He reached over and covered her tightly clenched hands that were resting on the table. She looked up at his sincere expression and knew he meant what he said, but did he have the resources to fight against a wealthy man through the maze of English courts?

  * * * *

  Dinner at the Osborne house that evening was more subdued than it had been the night before. Florence’s uninhibited chatter was missed. Ellen tried to fill some of the awkward silences by asking questions about the relatives who had attended the ceremony that day, but there was just so much one could say about which side of the family the aunts, uncles, and cousins came from. Mrs. Osborne asked a few questions about Toby, but that reminded Ellen of the confrontation she must have with the magistrate on the morrow, and the possibility that the man might demand she turn her son over to his grandparents made it difficult for Ellen to respond with enthusiasm.

  When the meal was finally over, and the men indicated they wanted to enjoy a brandy, Mrs. Osborne suggested she and Ellen retire. Ellen readily agreed, thinking the woman would say goodnight at the top of the staircase, instead she turned as if she intended to follow Ellen to her room. Ellen felt a moment of panic. What would the woman think when Ellen did not go to her new husband’s room? Then she remembered that his mother already knew, and realized how wise Gerald had been to give his parents a reason for the bride and groom’s separation.

  Mrs. Osborne led Ellen to the room that had been assigned to her. After they entered the bedroom, she turned up a lamp and then sat in the chair her son had occupied earlier. She smiled briefly and gestured to the chair across from her, so Ellen dutifully sat down.

  “Gerald told us that since you two have known each other for such a short time, you have decided to get better acquainted before completely consummating your marriage. I can perfectly understand how you might feel that way, but I want to urge you not to wait too long before making your bonds complete. Gerald may seem strong and in control, but the loss of his arm has seriously damaged his self-confidence.

  “I have watched his recovery and at times despaired that he will ever be the cheerful, self-assured man he was before he went to war. You have suffered a great loss yourself, so you can have a better understanding of how he feels. I know the main reason you entered into this marriage was to protect your son, but don’t let that be the only reason. You two can make a good life together, but in order for that to happen, it may be necessary for you to take the lead at times. Do you understand what I am saying?”

  Ellen felt perilously close to tears. Mrs. Osborne was trying to protect her son, an act that Ellen completely understood, but what could she honestly say that would put the woman’s mind at rest. “I…realize that…Gerald has done me a great favor, and I shall never do anything to harm him, but I cannot promise you what our future will be.”

  Mrs. Osborne stared into Ellen’s eyes for a long moment before saying, “I appreciate your honesty, but I hope you realize you will never find another man with a more giving nature.”

  Ellen could only nod at her mother-in-law, who nodded back and then stood to leave the room. “Shall I send a maid to help you prepare for bed?”

  “No, thank you. I’m accustomed to doing that for myself.”

  When she was alone, Ellen went to stand before the mirror. As she slowly removed the pins from her hair and loosened her braids, she thought of what had just been said. Obviously, Mrs. Osborne thought her son capable of consummating his marriage, but that was surely the type of injury a son would want to hide from his mother. Nevertheless, what the woman had said about her son being a good and reliable man must surely be true. Look at what he was doing to save Toby.

  Would he welcome her suggesting that they continue their marriage? Why shouldn’t he? Perhaps he wanted a woman who could love him as she had once loved Philip. Didn’t he deserve such a love? Her head began to ache. She could decide nothing until she knew where tomorrow’s confrontation with the magistrate would led.

  * * * *

  Daniel’s uncle, Mr. Arthur Matthews, waited for them in front of the municipal building that contained the magistrate’s office in Southwark. He was a solemn looking man, and when he tipped his hat to Ellen, he revealed a nearly bald head. He shook Gerald’s hand, and assured him that Daniel had related all the particulars of the case. “It will be better if I answer all the magistrate’s questions, but if he insists on direct answers from you two, volunteer as little information as possible.”

  Ellen’s anxiety increased. Would this be like a courtroom? Would she have to testify? “Is there something I—I should not tell him?”

  Mr. Matthews smiled at her indulgently. “This is just an informal hearing before the magistrate, to decide if further action is needed. Most likely you will not be called on to testify. Judges usually do not request a female’s testimony if there are males to speak for her. If you are asked anything do not prevaricate, merely resist the temptation to give any information except what you are specifically asked for.”

  Ellen didn’t know whether to be relieved that she would not have to testify or angered that the testimony of men who barely knew her would decide her child’s fate.

  Mr. Matthews led them into the building and through a maze of hallways to an office on the second floor. He identified them to the clerk in the outer office. The clerk gestured to chairs on the far side of the room. “Please be seated. The magistrate with call for you shortly.”

  An angry male voice sounded from the inner office. “My grandchild is in danger!”

  The buzz of calmer male voices followed this.

  Ellen looked at Gerald in alarm. “Do you think that was Silas Coyler? “

  Gerald placed his arm across her back and steered her toward the chairs. “We’ll know soon enough.”

  Ellen sighed as she sat down. “But why should he see the magistrate before we do? He can prejudice the man against me.” Her voice had becom
e shaky as she realized her worst fear had come to pass. A rich man had bought out the courts.

  Mr. Matthews leaned forward so he could look directly at her. “Don’t worry, Mrs. Osborne, we’ll be given a full opportunity to present your side of the story.”

  Gerald gripped one her hands and gave it a little shake. “Courage, my dear. You have to show the judge that you are a woman who can care for her child no matter what.”

  His words, the pressure of his hand, and the tone of his voice filled her with resolve. She had to conquer her fear and fight for her right to keep her child. She continued to stare at Gerald, letting his soldier’s calm resolve flow into her. He was there to help her, and together they would protect Toby.

  When the clerk announced the magistrate would see them, she stood and walked resolutely, leading the way into the magistrate’s office. The man behind the desk stood when he saw her and gestured toward a row of chairs on the left side of his desk. When they were all seated, he proceeded to introduce the people sitting in chairs across from them. Silas Coyler was a gaunt man with bushy white hair and eyebrows that jutted out over his eyes and drew attention to the way he stared at Ellen as if seeking to see into her soul. His plump wife, whose brown hair was peppered with gray, stared at her as well, but she seemed a bit surprised by what she saw. Mr. Fanning, Coyler’s solicitor, was a well-dressed, middle-aged man with a gold watch chain prominently displayed across his broad stomach.

  While the magistrate shuffled some papers on his desk, Silas glared at Ellen and demanded, “Where’s my grandson? Why didn’t you bring my grandson?”

  The magistrate frowned at him, and his own solicitor raised a hand in an attempt to silence the man.

  But Coyler would not be silenced. “She’s hiding the boy. She didn’t bring him when she was first ordered to, and now we have no idea where he is, or if he’s safe.”

  Beside her, Gerald stirred as if he intended to reply to Silas, but Mr. Matthews held his arm up in front of them and Gerald settled back in his chair.

  The magistrate sat quietly and stared at Coyler until the man huffed and leaned back in his chair. Then the magistrate turned toward Mr. Matthews. “I assume you are representing Mrs. Coyler, the younger. Would you please tell us where the boy is?”

  “I assure you he is quite well and is being cared for in the country home of a friend of Mr. Osborne’s.” Mr. Matthews said.

  “And what exactly is Mr. Osborne’s connection to this case?” the magistrate asked.

  “Mr. Gerald Osborne is a former Captain in the Light Brigade and served valiantly in the noble charge that company made during the Crimean War. He was the commanding officer of Sergeant Philip Coyler, this lady’s former husband, who died on that field of valor. Yesterday Mr. Osborne and Mrs. Coyler were married.”

  A collective gasp went up from the people sitting on the other side of the desk.

  “Do you have documentation of this marriage?” the magistrate asked.

  Gerald reached into his inside coat pocket and removed a piece of folded paper. He handed it to Mr. Matthews, who forwarded it to the man behind the desk.

  The magistrate looked over the paper for several seconds before saying, “This is signed by Bishop Osborne. Is he related to the gentleman here?”

  Mr. Matthews nodded and softly said, “His father.”

  Mrs. Coyler issued a high-pitched cry of distress.

  Mr. Matthews continued in his very calm voice. “If you will notice the names of the witnesses, your honor, Lady Angela Holden is the daughter of the Duke of Bainbridge, and the wedding breakfast was held in Bainbridge House after the ceremony. The other signatory, Mr. Daniel Matthews is my nephew and a student barrister. That should tell you a great deal about the respectability of Mr. Gerald Osborne.”

  The Coyler’s solicitor stared bug-eyed at his opponent. Ellen had never realized just how much power titles carried.

  Mr. Coyler slapped his hand on his thigh and loudly cried, “How can this be? This woman is little more than a slatternly barmaid.”

  Gerald leaned forward in his chair, chin jutting out and his back rigid. “Be careful what you say about my wife, sir. She is a talented violinist and sometimes played with a dance orchestra to help augment her small widow’s pension. She has never been a barmaid.”

  “But—but she leaves the boy alone at night,” Coyler stammered.

  Unable to contain herself any longer, Ellen huffed, “I never. I never left my boy alone. If I had to be out at night, the widow I rented rooms from was always with him.”

  “That seems to settle that question,” the magistrate said. Then he turned toward Gerald. “Do you have a home, sir?”

  “Yes, I own a property and operate a horse farm near the town of Hemsley.”

  “And you are prepared to open your home to your step-son?”

  “Absolutely,” Gerald said in a strong voice.

  “And where is the boy now?”

  Gerald looked at Mr. Matthews. He gave a brief nod, so Gerald said. “He’s at the country estate of one of my comrades in arms, the Earl of Firthley.”

  Ellen could see a look of resignation come over the magistrate’s face. A bishop, a duke’s daughter and an earl had obviously trumped a coal magnate.

  The magistrate looked at Silas Coyler. “I can see no reason to remove the child from this woman’s custody.”

  “We—we were misinformed, your honor,” Coyler stammered.

  Mrs. Coyler covered her eyes with a limp handkerchief.

  “Is this the end of it?” Mr. Matthews asked the magistrate.

  The magistrate nodded. “He may bring action through another venue, but he’ll get nothing further through my office.”

  Mr. Matthews stood and that was Ellen’s signal to spring to her feet to release some of the joy cursing through her. When Gerald stood, Ellen grabbed his arm, eager to thank him for all he had done, but he moved away from her, and she realized something was wrong with the arm she was holding. It was stiff and unyielding. It was his artificial arm. She let go of it quickly, afraid she might harm it, even pull it from his body.

  He must have felt something for he glanced at her and then quickly away, as he extended his real hand to Mr. Matthews and thanked him for his efforts. Ellen hoped her face had not revealed too much of her shock over feeling the lifeless limb

  Chapter 8

  Bill Blake sat in Solicitor Fanning’s outer office bouncing one leg up and down with impatience. The prissy clerk, sitting behind a desk across the room, looked at Bill’s leg and twitched his pencil-thin mustache in disapproval. Bill didn’t give a damn. Why were they keeping him waiting? He had heard old Coyler’s voice in the inner office with Mr. Fanning. They must be discussing the case—Bill’s case. He ought to be in there with them.

  After riding all over the countryside and stomping through one thicket after another, Bill had the great good fortune to spot the missing mother and son cavorting on the lawn at Firthley Hall like they were on holiday instead of hiding from the law. To celebrate his discovery, Bill had spent a comfortable night at an inn in the village of Firthley. The next day, not wanting to give his discovery away, he had returned to Hemsley and wired Coyler’s solicitor that he knew where the fugitives were hiding. The reply had ordered him to return to London at once.

  Now the solicitor and Coyler were cutting him out of their conversation. Bill was the investigator here. Those two old fools couldn’t find a rock if it was up their own arses.

  Finally, a little bell tinkled and the clerk nodded in Bill’s direction. “You may go in now.”

  If Mr. Coyler had been with Bill, that damn clerk would have jumped to his feet and rushed to open the door for them. Bill shot the man a sour expression as he sauntered into the next room. One of these days little worms like him will be jumping up for me.

  No one spoke when he walked into the inner office. Mr. Fanning was sitting behind his desk and Mr. Coyler, in a heavily padded chair, in front of the desk. Bill had to walk aroun
d to a straight wooden chair standing beside the desk, before he could see Coyler’s face. When Bill saw the old man’s rock-hard expression, he knew something was wrong—bad wrong.

  As he sat down, he swept his hat from his head and down to his lap and pasted a smile on his face. “How do you do, Mr. Coyler? I sent you a report of my latest findings, yesterday. You probably haven’t received it, but you will see my time in Hemsley has not been wasted. I’ve discovered Ellen Coyler’s whereabouts.”

  Coyler actually growled, showing his crooked, yellow teeth. “Unless that lead is what brought you to London, it’s dead wrong.”

  “No, sir. No, sir,” Bill said hurriedly. “I questioned people who work for Gerald Osborne, and they told me about his friendship with the Earl of Firthley. He and Osborne were chums in the army. I went to his estate and actually saw Ellen Coyler and your grandson cavorting on his front lawn. I’ve run that woman to ground.”

  Coyler’s lower lip quivered before he blurted out, “Then please tell me how a tavern doxie came to be the houseguest of an earl, and then to marry Gerald Osborne by a special license issued by his father, a bishop, while the daughter of the Duke of Bainbridge served as one of the witnesses?”

  Bill could only stare at Coyler with his mouth agape.

  Coyler wasn’t through, however. “While you were lazing around Hemsley, running up expenses, she was covering herself with respectability. Can you explain how the slatternly woman you claimed her to be could do such a thing?”

  “Ah—ah—I never said she was a doxie.”

  “You never said she played the violin for people to dance to either,” Coyler bellowed.

  As desperation built, Bill yelled, “She left the boy alone, at night. I saw that myself.”

  Coyler shook his head with his face twisted in disgust. “But you didn’t see the respectable widow-woman who stayed with him? Get out of my sight, you damn charlatan.”