The Widow (Silver Linings Mysteries Book 1)

by Mary Kingswood

  And yet… could she trust him? How could she ever trust a man again?

  It was too difficult to think about, so she pushed the subject to the back of her mind and hoped that Nathan would not mention it again.

  Nathan did not, but Meg had no such inhibitions. At the first overnight stop, as soon as her very prim maid had readied them for bed and withdrawn, Meg pushed back the covers and sat up in bed.

  “Now, Nell, we can have a comfortable coze,” she said.

  Never having had a sister, Nell was unused to having her repose disrupted by a whirlwind like Meg. “Can we?”

  “Yes, for we are cousins, are we not? We have hours and hours before we have to be up and about again, and what else is there to do?”

  “Sleep?” Nell suggested tentatively.

  Meg laughed uproariously at such a cowardly attitude. “Nonsense! You may sleep in the carriage tomorrow if you wish. You cannot imagine how much I have longed to have a good friend of my own age.”

  Nell resigned herself to the inevitable and sat up too. “I am sure you have many friends.”

  “Once, I did,” Meg said, a hint of a shadow crossing her face. “In Edinburgh I had a great many friends, but one by one they married and disappeared from my life. Then we moved to York and somehow, I do not know why it should be so, but it is more difficult to make friends when one is an outsider.”

  “How old were you when you left Edinburgh?” Nell said, interested despite her wish for sleep.

  “Five and twenty.”

  “Ah. Too old to mix with the newly out, but with nothing in common with the matrons.”

  “True,” Meg said with a sigh. “I have made friends of a sort, but none with whom I may be intimate. Not like a sister. I always longed for a sister. I daresay you did, too.”

  Nell chuckled. “I was too vain to want any rival in the family. Perhaps a younger sister would not be so bad, but an older sister would be a dreadful burden. To be always second — or third, or fourth! Imagine how wearisome.”

  “But we could be like sisters,” Meg said eagerly. “We could even be sisters in truth. Are you going to marry him?”

  Nell did not have to ask which him she had in mind. “It is unlikely,” she said cautiously.

  “But he is so much in love with you, and—” Meg stopped, bit her lip and then went on more slowly, “He would be good to you, Nell. He would treat you well and…”

  “Not like Jude, you mean,” Nell said bitterly.

  “Oh Nell, I so much want you to be happy. I want both of you to be happy.”

  Nell closed her eyes. How difficult it was to explain! To an outsider, it must seem so simple — her husband had hurt her, so she must be glad to be rid of him and happy to be sought by another man. In some ways she was glad to be rid of Jude and the ever-present fear of what he might do. But she had loved him for a long time, deeply and passionately, and could not lightly set aside the memory of the good times or the erosion of the happy marriage that she had once set down as certain. Her sense of loss was almost as great as her sense of release.

  Not equal to the task of explaining what she did not fully understand herself, she said only, “Who among us truly knows what it is to be happy? Or what would make one happy? I do not know myself what would make me happy, not any more. Life seems so straightforward when one is seventeen, but as one grows older and sees more of the world, so it seems that people everywhere are always unhappy, always discontented and wanting something that is not within reach. The sea took my husband from me only four months ago, Meg. He was not the perfect husband I had hoped for, but we shared many good years, we had a son together, and I am not yet ready to let go of his memory, or begin to think about the future.”

  Meg hugged her and begged her pardon and after no more than another hour or so of chatter, finally allowed her to sleep.

  ~~~~~

  Nathan was awake very early the next morning. Travelling always made him restless, with the noise, the constant motion and the fretting over every little detail. He wished he could see a journey the way Meg did, as a glorious adventure, an experience to be revelled in to the utmost, without the least care in the world, but he could not. He would not sleep or eat well or be free from anxiety until they reached their destination.

  This particular journey, however, had one particular compensation, and she, too, was up early. He had not long settled in their private parlour to begin his lists for the day, a pot of coffee at his elbow, when Nell appeared. Even in her unadorned black travelling gown, her hair pinned into a simple knot, she was as beautiful and elegant as ever, brightening the day and bringing a lift to his heart.

  “Good morning! Did you sleep well?” he said, his pleasure at seeing her bringing a smile to his lips.

  “As well as I ever sleep at an inn, which is to say, not well at all. It is not the inn’s fault, however, for I never was in a more comfortable one in my life.”

  “I never sleep much when I travel, either,” he said. “Then I doze in the carriage and get a crick in my neck and my head aches abominably, which throws me quite out of temper, and makes me fractious with ostlers and tapboys and chamber maids.”

  She smiled, but shook her head. “I cannot imagine you fractious with anyone. I beg your pardon… you are hard at work, and I am disturbing you.”

  “Oh, I am only writing lists. I am always writing lists. Planning, you see. Everything orderly. The whole journey is planned to a nicety, no detail too small to be thought of. That way, we suffer no delays. Shall I order some fresh coffee for you? This pot will be cold by now.”

  She agreed to it, and as the servant brought a basket of buns as well, they sat companionably together, eating and drinking. He began several topics of conversation, but when she answered only in the briefest terms, he said, “You are very quiet today. Is there something worrying you?”

  With a sigh, she said, “Only Louis. He has never been separated from me before, not for a single night. I only hope that he is not waking this morning missing me as much as I miss him.”

  “He is with Jessica,” he said gently. “She will take good care of him, for she has enough mother’s love for twenty children. It is a great tragedy that she had none of her own. She wanted to take Henny under her wing at one time, and I might have considered it, but William would not have it. Well, Aunt Amelie was the one who would not have it, I suppose, and he always followed her opinion.”

  “She is quite a high stickler,” Nell said. Cautious words! How like her, not wanting to offend.

  “Oh yes! And Henny is a natural child, after all,” he said. “But there was a cousin — there were five daughters in the family and very little money. Jessica thought to take one of them off their hands, but Aunt Amelie would not have that, either. It was not right to raise children above their station, she said. I am very fond of Aunt Amelie, but it would have been better for William and Jessica if she could have gone to the dower house when Uncle Henry died. Unfortunately it was impossible, for her sight was already failing, even so long ago. She was there for a month, but she kept bumping into things and tripping over. After the third fall, William brought her back to Percharden House where she knows her way about, and there she has stayed.”

  “That is never a good idea, having the old mistress of the house still in residence,” Nell said. “Although Jessica does seem to be very firmly in charge.”

  “Of domestic matters, yes, but Aunt Amelie ruled William, and Jessica never attempted to wean him away from his mama. Should you like to write to Louis? He will be interested to hear of your journey, and compare it with his own journey north.”

  “I thought to write when we get to London, but… is there somewhere here that takes in the post? This is only a small village.”

  “The other inn. I should be happy to take your letter there, and see it safely handed over.”

  So she thanked him and fetched her writing box, wherein he recognised his own gift of paper and quills. Although Nathan continued to work on his
lists, he watched her surreptitiously as she wrote two full sheets to Louis, the pen scratching away on the paper, then dipped in the ink pot, then scratching again, in a steady rhythm. She wrote rather fast, but neatly, the letters smoothly regular. When she had finished, he went out to the post office and by the time he returned, Meg was up, breakfast was set out, the carriage was ordered and all was a-bustle preparing for the second day of their travels.

  Only one incident marred the otherwise perfect journey. Having both the travelling carriage and a luggage coach with them, and needing four horses for each, Nathan had carefully written ahead to ensure that each change of horses would be ready for them. However, they arrived at a busy coaching inn to discover that their two teams were on the point of being given to an earl instead and there were no more teams available that day. Yes, the innkeeper had received Nathan’s letter and yes, he had understood the expected time of their arrival, but the earl was in urgent need, and he knew that Mr Harbottle, being such an amiable gentleman, would not mind.

  Nathan minded very much. It threw all his careful preparations quite out of kilter. It was too late in the day to obtain more horses, and it did not suit him at all to stop for the night so soon, for that would make for a much longer day’s travelling tomorrow. He would have to reconsider all his arrangements for the rest of the journey, and if there was one thing he disliked above any other, it was being required to alter arrangements at short notice.

  There was only one thing to be done, and that was to persuade the earl to surrender any claim to the horses — his horses, as he already thought them. This was not as easy as it seemed. The earl, a large and florid-faced gentleman, accompanied by several stiff-necked ladies and an improbable number of footmen, coachmen, grooms, maids and postilions, was not inclined to give up the horses. He needed them, he told Nathan, and the needs of a peer naturally took precedence over any mere commoner.

  Being unable to summon a marquess or a duke to his aid to outrank the earl, Nathan set to work on the innkeeper instead, whose eyes glistened at the sight of the roll of soft wafted under his nose. He wavered, dithered and then called to the ostler to stop hitching the team to the earl’s carriage.

  The earl exploded. He berated in the loudest possible terms the innkeeper, the ostlers, Nathan and then the innkeeper again. When the innkeeper’s wife rushed out to placate him with offers of wine and mutton stew, he yelled at her, too. Two passing coachmen and a small gaggle of townsfolk stopped to watch. The innkeeper dithered again, wringing his hands, but the prospect of so much money was too tempting. Nathan began counting notes into his hand. The earl took a step forward and raised his fists at Nathan, who pushed the whole roll into the innkeeper’s hand and turned round to face the irate earl, fully prepared to defend himself.

  Meg’s small hand tugged at Nathan’s sleeve, at first gently, then more urgently. “Nathan! Nathan! All this shouting… Nell is upset.”

  He broke away at once, dashing back to the carriage. Through the window, he saw Nell hunched up the corner whimpering with distress, her face turned away from the open door and buried in the squabs. At that moment, the only thing in the world he wanted to do was to take her in his arms and hold until her fears subsided. If only he could! But he had no right… and more than that, he doubted there was any comfort he could offer her that would help. The earl’s raised voice — the raised male voice — had brought back all her fears of her husband. There was no man on earth who could assuage those fears, for her terror of men was still too deep-seated. No matter how much he loved her, he could not help her.

  Nathan turned away from the carriage, and spoke quietly to the innkeeper. “His lordship may have the horses.”

  24: London

  It took Nell the whole evening and much of the next day to recover her equanimity. It helped that Meg and Nathan neither fussed nor asked questions. Instead, they treated her exactly as usual, making no comment on her long silences or the way she toyed with her food, carrying the conversation between them and giving no sign, by word or expression, that they saw anything amiss. For the rest of the journey, Nathan tactfully sat on the box beside the coachman, and although she felt sure she would not have minded his presence inside the carriage, she was grateful for his forbearance.

  By the time they drew into London, Nell was sufficiently recovered to look about her with eager anticipation. There was a pleasure in living in the quiet of the country, but the metropolis brought a very different kind of pleasure. The busy streets full of horses, carriages and wagons, the press of people thronging the pavements and the ever-present noise exhilarated her. London was exciting, and her only regret was that she was not to be there long. Three nights they would stay with Harry Smethurst, no more. Just enough time to enquire at the Admiralty for information about Felix’s wife.

  Harry’s house was charmingly appointed. It was not large, but the rooms were well-proportioned and fitted out with great elegance. The visitors were shown into the drawing room to await their host.

  “Mr Smethurst has the honour of entertaining the Marquess of Carrbridge,” the footman, Withers, informed them with some pride. “His lordship is in the study at this very moment.”

  “Does Lord Carrbridge often call upon my friend?” Nathan said, in surprised tones.

  “Not often, sir, but he occasionally finds it convenient to conduct private meetings here, rather than at Marford House or the House of Lords. May I fetch some tea for you?”

  While they waited for the tea, as Meg flicked through the newspaper and Nathan adjusted his neckcloth in the mirror, Nell walked around the room admiring the accomplished hand of the Marchioness of Carrbridge in the decorations. The lady had exquisite taste, reflected in every item in the room, from the delicately wrought chandelier to the polished slate fireplace to the Turkish rugs on the floor. It was delightful.

  Voices on the stairs were followed almost instantly by the door being thrown open to admit three gentlemen. Harry she knew, but the other two were unknown to her. The very handsome fellow with the fashionable attire and a patrician air she had no trouble identifying as the marquess. The thin-faced man in black she took to be an aide of some sort.

  “Here you are, just at the hour expected!” Harry said, with a warm smile, his eyes lingering on Meg. “Lord Carrbridge has expressed a wish to make your acquaintance, if that is agreeable to you, Mrs Caldicott?”

  “That would be a great honour,” Nell murmured.

  “Mrs Caldicott, Miss Harbottle, may I present to you my noble and most generous patron, Lord Carrbridge, and his secretary, Sir Daniel Merton. My lord, Sir Daniel, may I present Mrs Caldicott of Southampton and Miss Harbottle of York.”

  After the exchange of bows and curtsies, Lord Carrbridge offered his condolences, which Nell thought very handsome of him. At least he did not mention the Duke of Falconbury! She was so tired of hearing about the poor duke, as if he had been the only man on board the Minerva.

  Harry then introduced Nathan, and for some minutes the conversation was all of Yorkshire, for the marquess had his principal seat there.

  Before they left, the marquess said brightly, “You must all come to dinner at Marford House tomorrow. Very informal, you know, only family, but Lady Carrbridge will want to meet you.”

  Nell demurred, but within an hour a letter had been delivered from the marchioness herself, making the invitation formal and expressing her hopes of their attendance in such terms that made even Nell hesitate.

  “Oh, but you must go!” Meg cried. “For if you do not, then I must stay here and bear you company and think how infamous it would be to deprive me of such fun! I shall be excessively blue-devilled if you do not.”

  Nell did not feel she could well refuse and to Marford House, therefore, they were to go.

  ~~~~~

  Nathan was not in the best of spirits. He had set out with such high hopes of a glorious time in Nell’s company, their intimacy gradually deepening into something more than friendship. Perhaps there might even be
a moment during their travels when he could raise the subject of marriage again. He would have to express himself more delicately than before, since there was not the same urgency of losing Louis, and Nell was still in mourning, after all. But it could be hinted at, the subject raised, his own feelings made a little plainer.

  But now it was impossible. It was clear that all her composure was no more than a veneer, and the fear that her husband had engendered in her still lay very close to the surface, and that was a dispiriting thought. It was not merely that he felt himself obliged to draw back a little, not seeking out her company at every opportunity. Nor was it that it his hopes of pressing his suit upon her had receded somewhat.

  No, his real fear was that her experience of one evil husband had soured her for matrimony altogether. She had said more than once that she had no wish to marry, and he had not believed her. He had assumed, in his arrogance, that patience and gentleness and ardent love, combined with the manifold benefits of the match, for Louis as well as herself, would eventually win her round. Now he was brought to acknowledge that it might not be so. He was not yet ready to give up all hope, but he could appreciate that he must proceed with the utmost caution, to avoid an outright rejection.

  London helped. There were no bad memories there for any of them, and already they were forging new and illustrious connections that must surely please Nell. The Marquess of Carrbridge noticing them was a piece of the greatest condescension, and they could hardly have expected it. Nell had scruples about dining in unfamiliar company while in deep mourning, which was understandable, but a family dinner, even in so grand a family as the Marfords, must be unexceptionable.

  Before that, however, there was a less agreeable task to be undertaken.

  “I hope you will not mind, Nathan,” Harry had said, rather sheepishly, “but Lord Toller has expressed a wish to see you while you are here, and since it is about Felix, I felt you would have no objection.”