The Master of Calverley Hall

by Lucy Ashford

  ‘How brave you’ve been,’ he said. ‘How misjudged you’ve been. Oh, Isobel. I should have been there for you.’

  ‘Many, many parts of my life have been good. When I was a girl at Calverley, I used to love riding to the forge, to talk to you. It was my escape. My refuge. When you left...’ Her voice grew quieter. ‘That was the bad time. And realising my name had been blackened beyond redemption by Loxley’s relatives—that was bad, too. But I found happiness with Joseph and Agnes Molina, in their farmhouse.’

  ‘Only then I returned,’ he said almost fiercely. He was still holding her. ‘I blundered into your life again. Isobel, I’ve misjudged you, so badly. But I’m trying to make amends. That’s why I was so long in London. You see, I tracked down Loxley’s lawyer.’

  Her eyes widened.

  ‘I found,’ he went on, ‘that Loxley, a few weeks before he died, made a codicil—that’s a legal amendment to his will. Yes, most of his money and property was left to those cousins of his—but he left ten thousand pounds to you. And I found out something even more important.’

  He was drawing a sheet of paper out of his pocket and unfolding it. ‘This is a copy of the declaration by Loxley in the codicil. It says, “To whom it may concern. I wish to make it clear that I took Isobel Blake into my house in order to protect her and keep her safe. She has been my loyal companion—nothing more—and is entirely an innocent. I wish her to be regarded as my legal ward and will shortly be making arrangements to this end.”’

  ‘His legal ward?’ Isobel felt rather dizzy again.

  ‘That’s correct. Unfortunately, he died before his wishes could be formalised. But his intentions are there—together with his declaration of your innocence.’

  She was shaking her head. ‘Oh, Connor. Why did no one tell me?’

  ‘I rather think that, having met Loxley’s relatives yourself, you can probably guess.’ Connor’s expression was grim now. ‘How do you think they felt, on realising Loxley had not only left you a large sum of money, but was also declaring that he wished you to be considered his ward? They were his executors—so after his death, they pretended the codicil had never existed. Then they blackened your name thoroughly, to prevent the chances of anyone ever listening to you.’

  He flourished the piece of paper. ‘I discovered this copy of the codicil at the lawyer’s office. I got Loxley’s lawyer to confirm that the original had never been revoked and is therefore still as valid as the day it was written. You could bring charges against Loxley’s relatives, Isobel.’

  ‘No.’ She was very pale again. ‘No. But I want justice done, Connor.’

  ‘That’s exactly what I thought. So I visited them.’

  ‘The relatives?’

  He nodded. ‘Yes. I told them that if they give you the ten thousand pounds and make it quite clear that Loxley’s relationship with you was that of guardian and ward, then they won’t find themselves in trouble with the law.’

  ‘But everyone believes the worst of me anyway. How can that be changed?’

  ‘Quite easily.’ He grinned. ‘You’re going to be my wife. By the time you come to London with me, as my bride, I’ll have made quite sure that the declaration in the codicil has been made public knowledge. Anyone who raises any doubts will have me to deal with. As for Loxley’s relatives, I think it would be rather entertaining to force them to acknowledge you in public. I could even suggest to them that they invite you to their house—’

  ‘I shall not go!’ Her chin had tilted stubbornly.

  ‘No.’ His grip on her hand tightened. ‘But the invitation would speak for itself. And the main thing is that I’ve got you, Isobel. That’s all that matters in the world to me.’

  He was silent a moment, then he went on, ‘Do you know, when I returned to Calverley this spring, I went to look at the place where the forge once stood. There was a small patch of garden at the back, where my father used to grow vegetables and roses. I expected it to be an overgrown wilderness. But someone had tended it and the rose bushes were in full bloom.’

  ‘I started going there after you’d gone,’ she told him almost shyly. ‘And when I came back here with the Molinas, I visited it every week, to look after those roses.’

  ‘But why?’

  ‘It was for your father and for you. You see, I always hoped you might come back.’

  He took a deep breath and pointed to the ring on her finger. ‘You’ve not given me your answer yet, Isobel. I want you to marry me. I want you to be my wife.’

  She was shaking her head. ‘Impossible! My father was a disgrace and so am I.’

  He laughed. ‘Do you think I care? You give me strength and joy, and a belief in myself. I used to long for your visits to the forge, because you were inquisitive and caring, and above all courageous. And I love what you’ve become.’

  ‘All of it?’ She raised her eyebrows in a hint of mocking disbelief. ‘You do realise I can be rather difficult?’

  ‘Of course! I’ve seen it! You’re outspoken and rebellious—and I’ve seen you fighting mad at times, especially in defence of those children. But since I’m so tolerant, and so relaxed...’ he paused as she let out a gasp of merriment ‘...I’m sure we’ll get on together extremely well. Isobel.’ His voice became serious again. ‘You’ve had to fight the whole world on your own, but you have never stopped being strong and loving, and honourable. I’ll be the proudest man in the world to have you as my wife—and together, we’ll fight off anyone who dares to suggest otherwise.’

  He kissed her, oblivious to anyone else who might be around. As he caressed her willing mouth with his, clasping her close, she responded ardently; and when they finally—reluctantly—drew apart she was filled with renewed desire for this man to whom she’d given her heart.

  ‘Happy?’ he murmured, still holding her close.

  ‘I didn’t know I could be so happy.’ Her voice still trembled with passion; she managed a shaky smile. ‘I don’t know how to say it and you might even laugh, but—’

  ‘Try me,’ he offered.

  ‘I think,’ she said very quietly, ‘that I’ve always loved you, Connor. You’ve always been my hero. Only it hurt me so much, when I thought you believed those things about me—’

  ‘Hush,’ he interrupted. He traced the outline of her lips with his forefinger. ‘Hush, darling Isobel. I’ve made bad mistakes, but I hope you can forgive me. And as for the rest of the world—it can go to hell, as long as I have you.’

  Suddenly she threw him a teasing look. ‘Now, I cannot believe you would give up your iron foundries!’ He began to speak, but swiftly she reached to put her fingertip on his mouth. ‘And I wouldn’t,’ she went on softly, ‘for one minute, expect you to. Because your work is your life, Connor. Your work is you and your dedication to it won’t have to alter in the slightest because of me. But I want you to let me be by your side, supporting you, helping you whenever and wherever I can.’

  ‘And loving me,’ he said, reaching to cup her cheeks and tilt her face to his. ‘Loving me, always, Isobel. That’s the most important thing of all.’

  He took her in his arms in a silent acknowledgement of all that had happened to the two of them. A moment of mutual forgiveness and hope. Then he kissed her again; and he didn’t stop until they heard the sound nearby of someone clearing his throat. Connor looked up as a man said politely, ‘Begging your pardon, sir. Madam. But it’s starting to rain, you know.’

  It was one of the park keepers—and he was right. Overhead the sky was rapidly darkening; heavy drops of rain were beginning to fall and not far away was a rumble of thunder.

  Connor sprang to his feet and grinned broadly. ‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘But you see, I’ve just asked this lady to marry me—and she said yes!’

  The park keeper nodded his head approvingly. ‘Now that’s worth getting a bit soaked for, I’d say. Best get that lovely lady of yours
somewhere nice and dry though, sir. And look after her, won’t you?’

  ‘I will,’ Connor promised. ‘Believe me, I will.’

  Epilogue

  July the following year

  The gardens of Calverley Hall glowed with colour in the warm summer sunshine as Isobel wandered along the paths with her basket, snipping off fragrant blooms. Elvie followed close behind with Little Jack—who wasn’t so little now.

  ‘There are some lovely pink roses here, Isobel,’ called Elvie, ‘that I think Grandmother would love for the morning room! And we could put some yellow ones in the hallway for Connor, so he sees them when he comes home today. Because he is coming home, isn’t he?’

  At that very moment they heard the sound of a carriage rattling along the drive and Elvie clapped her hands with delight. ‘It must be him now!’ And she went charging off towards the house, with a devoted Jack at her heels.

  A little later Connor found Isobel in the rose garden, sitting on a stone bench. ‘You’re back, Mr Hamilton,’ she said, lifting her radiant face for his kiss. She wore a light green gown whose colour shimmered in the dappled sunlight beneath the trees and highlighted her vivid eyes.

  He drew her up into his arms and held her there after he’d kissed her, breathing in the scent of her hair, her skin. ‘I’m here, Mrs Hamilton,’ he said. ‘Where I belong.’

  ‘But how long for?’ she teased. ‘I know you. How long before you’re charging off to London with some amazing new scheme firing up your brain?’

  ‘I’ve decided to take a holiday,’ he announced. He linked his arm through hers and together they started strolling along the path. ‘I’ve left everything in London in extremely safe hands and the work at the docks is progressing on time and on target.’ He smiled down at her. ‘Have you missed me?’

  She let a mischievous smile play around her mouth. ‘Do you know, I have, rather. I think I’d better warn you that you’ll realise how much, once we’re alone tonight.’

  His hand was suddenly round her waist and he pulled her to face him. ‘So I’ll need all my energy, will I? We’d better ensure Cook provides a special feast.’

  ‘Especially,’ she added, ‘since I’m eating for two.’

  He drew her closer, suddenly protective—anxious almost. ‘And is everything going well? Did you keep your promise that you’d see the doctor if anything at all worried you?’

  ‘Everything’s fine, Connor. Don’t I look well?’

  ‘You look,’ he said, ‘absolutely wonderful.’

  Her smile then was like the sun, warming up all the cold places inside him, healing all the old hurts. He would do the same for her, he vowed. He would take away all the shadows of her past. They would heal each other.

  Their wedding last October had been a simple affair, with only a few guests—Laura and Elvie, Agnes and Joseph Molina, and Robert Carstairs. That was how they’d both wanted it. But Connor also arranged a wonderful party for his staff; a party which was all the better, people quietly agreed, for the fact that Haskins and Mrs Lett were not present. They had been replaced by a new steward and a new housekeeper, both of whom met with everyone’s approval.

  Once the winter was past, Connor had taken Isobel to London to his house in Mayfair and, though she was nervous at first about meeting his friends and business partners, they had been in raptures over her.

  ‘So beautiful. So charming,’ they all said. ‘Connor, you’re a lucky fellow!’

  Roderick Staithe, after resigning his seat in Parliament, had retreated to the country and of the incident years ago that had caused Isobel such anguish no one spoke a word, because Connor had dealt with Loxley’s relatives in his usual efficient manner.

  The ten thousand pounds was now hers. And within a week of Connor and Isobel’s arrival in the capital, Connor had arranged for them to attend a grand soirée, at which Loxley’s relatives would also be present. Isobel hadn’t wanted to go in the least, but Connor had promised to be at her side throughout. ‘And they won’t stay long,’ he’d laughed. ‘Believe me.’

  They didn’t. There were six of them; they bowed or curtsied one by one to Isobel, saying, ‘Mrs Hamilton. Our cousin Viscount Loxley’s charming young ward. How good you were to him in his final months! It’s such a pleasure to see you again.’

  Connor was right; they left very soon afterwards and from then on not a word was heard of the slanders they’d spread. Connor and Isobel had already decided to give Loxley’s bequest to a new charity involved in setting up schools for children in the poorest parts of London. And if anyone remembered the stories about Isobel, they certainly took great care never to mention them in Connor’s presence.

  Isobel was looking up at him now. She was slightly anxious, he realised. ‘Do you feel married, Connor?’ she asked.

  ‘Why, yes. Don’t you? Why do you ask it?’

  ‘It’s just that I can’t believe my own happiness. Really.’

  He laughed. ‘Difficult as it may be, you’re going to have to get used to it, Isobel—for ever. And that is a definite promise. I may even get you to sign a contract.’

  He cupped her cheeks, kissed her lips with a warmth that thrilled her whole being, then took her hand and led her towards Calverley Hall.

  They were both home, at last.

  * * * * *

  If you enjoyed this story check out these

  other great reads by Lucy Ashford

  THE CAPTAIN’S COURTESAN

  THE RAKE’S BARGAIN

  THE OUTRAGEOUS BELLE MARCHMAIN

  THE CAPTAIN AND HIS INNOCENT

  Keep reading for an excerpt from DIARY OF A WAR BRIDE by Lauri Robinson.

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  Diary of a War Bride

  by Lauri Robinson

  Prologue

  1st of January, 1943

  Dearest Diary,

  Little did I know how important you would become when Charlotte gave you to me. You’ve been my confidant in what has proven to be the greatest journey of my life, and though I’m saddened that our time together has come to an end and I shall never forget the people I wrote about between your pages, it’s a new year and I’m embarking on a new journey, one of being a married woman...

  Chapter One

  26th of April, 1942

  Dear Diary,

  Our life in the country has been so very different from those who remained in the cities, where bombs have destroyed so much and killed so many, and I fear
all that is about to change. Lately, I’ve insisted that the children sleep holding on to their gas masks, ready to put them on at my command, and wear their clothes to bed so they’ll be somewhat warm if we need to run to the bomb shelter. It’s so very frightening.

  I wrote about the arrival of American troops back in January. How everyone claimed the Americans will help us give the Nazis what they deserve. I can’t say that has happened, but I can tell you this. They built a Bomber Command Station right here in High Wycombe!

  Shortly after the American servicemen arrived, the headmistress of Wycombe Abbey girls’ school received an official notice to evacuate all the girls within a fortnight to make room for the United States Army Eighth Air Force. That caused a tremendous influx of students into the small village school. Local children now attend lessons in the mornings and the evacuees in the afternoons, which includes all of the nine children living here with Norman and Charlotte. And, as if that wasn’t bad enough, the past week planes started flying in and out of the base like flocks of birds. There is nothing to stop the German bombers from following those planes, intent upon dropping bombs on the base, which would have them flying directly over the farm!

  Norman insists Father assured him there is nothing to worry about, that having the base so near should make us feel safer and that air raid sirens would sound if the German planes flew near, but there are no sirens close by us. Furthermore, by the time the sirens sound, it could be too late. That has happened elsewhere. No one can say it hasn’t.

  When I was evacuated out of London, here to Norman and Charlotte’s, I did feel safe and have continued to for the past couple of years, but I truly fear there is no safe place in our country right now. Nowhere that families are safe. I also fear there soon won’t be anything left of the country we are all working so hard to protect.

  I also wonder why we are expected to put so much faith in the Americans. These aren’t their homes. Their families. Their children.