The Widow (Silver Linings Mysteries Book 1)

by Mary Kingswood

  She looked up at him, her face suddenly alight with merriment. “I, the reprobate, sully the corridors of Godney Hall? Never!”

  His breath caught in his throat. Heavens, she was so beautiful, and when she looked at him in that playful, teasing way…

  Luckily, she noticed nothing, for she went on, “Your letter to Louis caused great consternation, Mr Harbottle. James was so desperate to find out who could possibly be writing to a boy of eight that he dispatched my younger brother to find out.”

  “Jack,” Nathan said.

  “Yes.” She tipped her head to one side in puzzlement. “Did I mention him to you?”

  “No, I looked the Godneys up in the baronetage,” he said, with a wide grin.

  She laughed out loud at that. “Oh, of course! So Jack was allowed to deliver the letter, but forbidden from crossing the threshold into my house of shame. I found him sitting on the front step with a cup of tea.”

  “An enterprising gentleman,” Nathan said, noticing just how her eyes sparkled when she was amused. “Which school does he attend?”

  “He is at Oxford already. He went up a year early. Mr Harbottle, I do believe your friend is trying to attract your attention.”

  Nathan turned, to see Harry loitering nearby, waggling his fingers at him.

  “Ah, I expect he wishes to make your acquaintance, but I do not recommend it, Mrs Caldicott. He is a thoroughly disreputable fellow whose behaviour on a Sunday is quite unforgivable. Can you believe it, he only attends church twice, when I know for a certainty that there are three services each Sabbath, and when he returns home he refuses to read sermons, insists on mutton for dinner, when his companions would prefer goose, and spends the evening declaiming from the works of William Shakespeare, while marching up and down the drawing room with the book in his hand. It is a fearsome sight, I assure you.”

  Mrs Caldicott laughed. “He sounds splendid, and I should very much like to make his acquaintance.”

  “There you are, Nathan,” Harry said in a loud whisper. “Some people appreciate my worth.”

  “Very well, madam, but on your own head be it if he proceeds to bore you with Henry V. Mrs Caldicott, may I present to you my oldest and dearest friend, Mr Harry Smethurst, who is the son of Squire Smethurst of Highley Manor and also a Member of Parliament. Harry, this is Mrs Caldicott, of whom I have spoken.”

  She dipped an elegant curtsy to him. “I am very pleased to make the acquaintance of anyone who values Mr Shakespeare,” Mrs Caldicott said. “There are some stirring speeches in his work which must inspire your own speeches in the House, Mr Smethurst.”

  “Oh, I do not aspire to such a level of oratory as that,” he said. “Workmanlike and plain, that is all that may be said of my speeches to date.”

  “Perhaps I am mistaken,” she said, “but is Parliament not in session at the moment?”

  “Indeed it is, but my father was ill and I was summoned north. He was on the mend before I arrived, but then Nathan’s cousin died, and so I stayed to attend the funeral, and glad I am that I did so, for it gives me the opportunity to meet you at last, Mrs Caldicott. Nathan has talked of you so much.”

  “Has he so?” she said, arching her eyebrows in surprise, and turning her clear blue eyes on Nathan. “Has he told you how very kind he has been towards us? I am the more grateful because my brother is unable to heal the family estrangement my marriage caused. Poor James! He cannot go against our father’s wishes in the matter, and so his hands are tied.”

  Nathan was shocked. She had left her brother’s house, then, without receiving any assistance from him at all. What about her jointure? Was she still so impoverished that she could not afford tea? Yet her mourning gown was of good quality, newly made, and she had travelled all the way to Yorkshire, which was not cheap. She could not be penniless. And then he wondered just why he took such a close interest in the lady. She exerted a powerful fascination for him.

  He had no time for further conversation with her, however, for Jessica called them to gather around the dowager, and the talk became more general for an hour or so, until it was time for the old lady’s midday rest.

  “Well, Louis,” Nathan said, after his aunt had left on the arm of her footman, “have you seen the library yet?” Wordlessly he shook his head, but his eyes glittered with excitement. “Come then. Mrs Caldicott, have you been shown around the house yet? No? Then let us all go.”

  Jessica was quite willing to show them around, through the saloon, then the dining room and music room, and finally the library. There was no fire, but the shutters were open and vases of delphiniums and roses added colour.

  Louis stood, revolving slowly around.

  “What do you think?” Nathan said.

  “It is not as big as Daveney Hall.”

  “Oh. Is the Daveney Hall library a great deal bigger?”

  He considered that carefully. “Ten times bigger.”

  “That is very big indeed,” Nathan said gravely. “Would you say that is an accurate assessment, Mrs Caldicott?”

  “I would, sir. The Daveney Hall library is about the size of the gallery here.”

  Jessica laughed. “Your family must read a great deal, Mrs Caldicott. But come, Louis, let us find you some books to read. You tell me what you would like to read about, I shall find the right case and Mr Smethurst will climb the ladder to retrieve the volume, if necessary. You must never go up the ladder yourself, you understand? Nathan, why do you not show Mrs Caldicott the rest of the house? I am sure the Italian room would please her.”

  A burst of pleasure washed over him. He turned to her and bowed, offering his arm, although half expecting her to find some excuse to refuse such an obvious attempt to throw them together. To his delight, she smiled her acceptance, placed her hand on his arm and allowed him to lead her out of the room.

  17: Conversations

  Nathan had thought Mrs Caldicott might be embarrassed by their unexpected tête-à-tête, but she was not a lady to be discomposed by any situation.

  As soon as they had left the library, she said, “Lady Harbottle has a romantic nature, I think, who sees a young widow and cannot resist pairing her off with the most eligible man in sight. I fear she is wasting her efforts on me. At only three months widowed, I cannot begin to consider such possibilities. In fact, I very strongly suspect I shall never marry again, so you are perfectly safe with me, Mr Harbottle.” Without waiting for a reply, she went on, “This is a very fine house, so far as I am able to judge. So very well laid out, and with every modern convenience. Oh, what room is this?”

  He could only admire her deftness in turning aside the awkwardness of the situation. “This is my cousin William’s study.” The room was in darkness, but he opened some of the shutters. The room looked odd to him now, with no fire burning in the grate, no dogs lolling about, no William in the leather chair behind the desk, spectacles perched on the end of his nose.

  “How very tidy,” she said.

  “This is exactly how he left it. I have removed a few important papers, but otherwise nothing has been disturbed.”

  “What a methodical man he must have been. Was he very elderly?”

  “He was not yet sixty, and should have had many more years of life left to him,” Nathan said quietly, feeling oddly emotional, as he not felt even in the immediate aftermath of William’s death. “Such a pity he and Jessica had no children or we should not now be in this dreadful position. Yet who would have thought it? Five brothers should have secured the succession more than adequately, but William had no children at all, Andrew and his son both died, Walter never married and James had only daughters. And no one knows about Felix.”

  She moved to the wall where he had pinned his map of Great Britain and his list of ports, most of them neatly crossed out.

  “Your investigations,” she said. “I see that you are a methodical man, too, Mr Harbottle. What happens if your cousin cannot be found? He can be declared dead eventually, can he not? That happens when a ship i
s lost at sea and the men aboard are presumed to have drowned.”

  “True, and for the estate, perhaps, that can be done, although I can administer it in the interim, so there is no difficulty with that. But the baronetcy is not so simple. The Master of Rolls will want clear proof that Felix is dead and left no legitimate heirs before the title can be given elsewhere, and that is almost impossible to provide.”

  “Who is the next heir after Felix? Perhaps he has secretly had him killed in order to inherit,” she said teasingly.

  He laughed. “I can tell you definitively that he has not done so. Firstly, because in order to inherit, he must demonstrate that Felix is dead, and he cannot do that if he murders his rival in secret and hides the body. And secondly, because I am the next in line, and I believe I would remember if I had murdered anyone. Although if Felix ever does turn up, I may very well be tempted to murder him for leading us such a dance. Shall we move on to the billiard room?”

  The billiard room being of little interest to Mrs Caldicott, and having seen the breakfast room and blue parlour already, they came quite soon to the Italian room. It was the only part of the house that Nathan strongly disliked, for it was entirely marble, hand selected by the third baronet in Italy and imported at vast expense, then installed to his specific design. The floor, the several wide pillars and even the walls were marble, and the ceiling was painted to resemble marble. It was a work of art, and yet he was entirely unmoved by it.

  “It feels very cold, does it not?” Mrs Caldicott said. “In the heat of an Italian summer, such a cool room would be a delight, but it is out of keeping with England, in my opinion. I prefer warm wood and glowing colours.”

  “Then we are in accord,” he said, absurdly pleased to find their opinions so exactly in line.

  They came then to the gallery, and at once she spun away from him, arms out. “This room is glorious,” she cried, spinning round again, her skirts swirling about her feet. “It makes me want to dance.”

  “Did you dance a great deal in Southampton?” he said, watching her move through the steps of the cotillion with an imaginary group of dancers. He burned to know everything about her.

  “Not as much as I should have liked.” She made a change of footwork. “When we were first there…” Another change. “…we went to all the assemblies, and a few…” She curtsied gracefully to her invisible partner. “…private balls, too, but later…” Her face changed, and the animation dropped from her. For a moment, he had been privileged to glimpse a different woman, but now all her cool composure was back. “Later, either Jude was at sea or I was… unwell, and so we never went anywhere, except to his employer’s ball once a year.”

  Unwell. That was an interesting word for it. “Were you often unwell?” he asked, keeping his tone blandly neutral.

  “Not often, but…” She trailed off, her face showing traces of strain again. But she took a deep breath and composed herself, before saying brightly, “Ah, there is Great-uncle Matthew, who looks so like my late husband. Lady Harbottle thinks there may have been some irregularity in my husband’s ancestry to account for it. Great-uncle was a man with an eye for the ladies, seemingly.”

  “Was he now? Jessica knows more about the family than I do, even though she is the newest member of it. She married William only after his brothers had scattered to the four winds, so she missed all the scandals, even Felix’s. Everything she knows is hearsay, but she takes an avid interest in it. If there is anything you wish to know about the Harbottles, you may ask her.”

  “I do not imagine I shall be here long enough to delve into family history,” she murmured.

  The thought pierced him to the core. Of course she would not stay long. She would go back to Southampton, and he would be tied to Yorkshire by the needs of the estate, and unable to find an excuse to see her again. But he could at least make the most of her time in the north.

  “Mrs Caldicott, I wonder if I might be so bold as to invite you and Louis to my house in York for a short visit? Aunt Amelie and Jessica will not be attending church for some weeks yet, and I should love to have your company for services in the Minster, perhaps on Sunday next. My sister would be delighted to—”

  “Oh, do you have a sister? I had no idea! Do tell me about her.” She sat on an overstuffed sofa, and looked at him expectantly.

  He took the chair next to the sofa. “Meg is my half-sister, two years older than I. She was born in the West Indies, and her mother died on the voyage home. My father settled in Edinburgh and married again almost immediately, but my mother died shortly after I was born. At that point, my father decided that the Good Lord did not wish him to be married, so he gave up the practice for good.”

  She gave a little laugh, but said, “And she is not married, your sister?”

  “No, although she has had suitors enough. She keeps house for me, and would be delighted to welcome you to York. Will you come?”

  “I should very much like to, but the invitation should come from your sister and we are not acquainted. Perhaps if you were to bring her here so that she might meet me?”

  “That is impossible. Aunt Amelie greatly dislikes Meg, and she is not welcome here.”

  Mrs Caldicott raised her eyebrows, but said only, “The Dowager Lady Harbottle has some strong opinions. She dislikes your friend, I think, whereas she has been kindness itself to me and to Louis.”

  “Harry is only the son of the Squire, whereas you are a lady through and through. Your father is a baronet, Mrs Caldicott. Good breeding always shows, my aunt says.” He imitated his aunt querulous voice perfectly.

  They both laughed, and he thought how pleasant it was to sit and talk to her in this comfortable way. When he spoke, she listened with an intent expression on her face, and when it was her turn, her mobile hands moved this way and that, gesturing, drawing elegant shapes in the air. A few stray curls fell from below her cap and lay about her slender neck. When she talked with animation, they danced about here and there like brown butterflies. The urge to reach out and touch them, to run his fingers over those dancing locks, was almost overwhelming. Yet when she was still, so were the curls, waiting motionless for her to come alive again. When he had seen her in Southampton, they had been mostly still. Today, they danced with delight, just as she did.

  “I am so glad that we are still friends, Mr Harbottle,” she said, taking him by surprise.

  “Why should we not be?”

  “No reason at all, for my part, but I was afraid that you would think it encroaching of me to come scampering up to Yorkshire, invading your home territory. That, however, is quite your own fault for writing so evocatively of York Minster. When we were obliged to leave Southampton suddenly, your letter and the letter from Felix conspired to put Yorkshire at the forefront of my mind.”

  There it was again, the need to leave Southampton. When he asked, she said that there had been money given to the next of kin of those lost in the Minerva, and it had caused some difficulty. Yes, he had heard of the Benefactor, and the troubles, for the newspapers had been full of the subject.

  Shortly afterwards she suggested that they re-join the others. He was content to do so. All his main concerns had been addressed. She was no longer poor, she was in Yorkshire and she was his friend. For the moment, he wanted nothing more.

  ~~~~~

  “Come on, admit it, Nathan. You are head over heels in love with her,” Harry said, as the carriage made its way back to York.

  “I admit to no such thing,” Nathan said complacently. “Just because a man admires a lady and enjoys her company does not mean he is about to hurtle into matrimony.”

  “There can be no hurtling, not when she is still in full mourning, but I wager matrimony will come into it sooner or later.”

  Nathan shook his head. “You are quite wrong. I like her very well, I confess, but it is more a fascination with some exotic species, as in a menagerie. I have never met anyone quite like her, and so I wish to find out everything about her, and what makes he
r the way she is. But cool, composed ladies have never been my type. I do not like my women reserved, Harry. They must needs have energy and liveliness and passion. I want a woman who will wake me at dawn to run barefoot through the dewy meadow. I want a woman who will love me so deeply that she will never leave my side. I want a woman who will sing and laugh and dance for joy…” For an instant his mind’s eye was filled with the image of Mrs Caldicott spinning round in the gallery. Yes, she had danced with joy then, but only for the briefest moment. He went on quickly, “And she must weep. Can you imagine her weeping, or even the slightest bit discomposed? Passion, you see, Harry. I must have passion, and Mrs Caldicott is not the passionate type.”

  “Barefoot through dewy meadows? Sounds dashed uncomfortable to me. Seriously, Nathan, have a care, for the lady if not for yourself. You make your preference for her company very obvious, and it is clear that she likes you too. In time, she may come to believe that—”

  “No, no!” Nathan said. “There is no danger, I assure you. I offered her friendship at a time when she was very much in need of a friend. A gentleman friend, that is. She has a female friend, but that is not the same, is it? Otherwise, she had no one apart from her husband. I wanted her to know that she had someone she could turn to if… if ever her life became unbearable. But now the scoundrel is gone, and she will make a new life for herself. She has made it very clear that she is not looking for another husband.”

  “Not now, perhaps, but in the future she may feel differently.”

  “Mrs Caldicott and I understand each other very well, Harry. Neither of us wishes to marry in the slightest. You are the one who should be giving consideration to the question of matrimony, now that you have good prospects in your career.”

  “I have given consideration to the question,” Harry said shortly.

  His tone was worryingly brusque, and Nathan thought it wise to let the subject drop.

  ~~~~~