by Holt, Cheryl
“He viewed her as much more than a servant, and he’ll be upset to discover she’s gone.”
“Perhaps,” Robert allowed, “but I won’t have him racing home to chase after her. He has more important issues to plague him, and a female is never worth all that trouble. It’s a lesson you’ll have to learn the hard way.”
“I suppose.”
“It’s not as if she’s vanished. We know where she is. After he’s wrapped up this visit, if he decides to track her down, he can. I’ll apprise him as soon as he’s finished.”
“I think he’d track her down at once.”
“You might be right or I might be right. It could be that he’s glad to be shed of her, else why was she fired? It appears they had a disagreement, and she’s always been difficult. You have to admit that.”
“I liked her,” Will said.
“I liked her too, but more often than not, she was a pain in the ass. She was too bossy.”
“Hayden didn’t mind. He wouldn’t want you to keep this a secret.”
“Well, I am keeping it a secret, and you are too.”
Will glared mulishly, nearly refused to comply, then muttered, “I won’t tell.”
They rode up the long lane to the manor. They were surrounded by orchards, which provided stark evidence the property was thriving, but then, Hayden had always described Alex Wallace as a rich prick.
The house was magnificent, huge and grand, the lawns swathed, the gardens perfectly manicured. Off in the distance, a hint of the ocean glinted through the trees, the blue of the waves a striking contrast to the green of the grounds. It was like a picture out of a storybook.
They reined in, and servants rushed to assist them. Without argument, they relinquished their horses, figuring everyone was competent so the animals would be suitably tended. They headed for the stairs and began to climb when the front door opened, and a man emerged and started down.
Robert and Will scooted over and nodded a greeting as he passed. Then, for some reason, Robert felt compelled to halt and stare down at him. It was almost as if a rope had been tied around his ankles to delay him so he had to take note of the fellow.
He was thirty or so, tall, fit, dark-haired, and handsome. He was exactly similar to Robert at that same age or how Will would be when he was older. He even had their same blue eyes.
As he reached the driveway, he turned and peered up at Robert, and they were trapped in the strangest space. Clocks stopped ticking. The wind in the trees ceased blowing. Birds didn’t caw or flap their wings. A shiver slithered down his spine.
The man was studying Robert as if wondering whether they were acquainted, and Robert was wondering the same. There was such a perception of connection about him. Then Will shattered the peculiar moment.
“Father, are we going in? The butler is waiting.”
Will’s voice pulled him from his stupor. He whipped away and kept on.
“Who was that?” Will inquired. “Do you know him?”
“No, but he seemed familiar. I was trying to place him.”
“He looked like us.”
“Yes, just like us.”
“Maybe he’s a cousin or something. Don’t you have relatives all over England?”
It had been such an eerie episode that he felt bewitched. The hair on his neck had stood up, the air so electrified he might have been about to be struck by lightning, but there wasn’t a cloud in the sky.
“Hello, sir,” the butler said. “How may I help you?”
“I’m here to meet Lord Middlebury. Hayden Henley? He’s expecting me.”
“Mr. Stone?”
“Yes.”
The butler smiled at Will. “And who is this fine young man?”
“My son, Will.”
“Hello, Master Will,” the man said. “Lord Middlebury is with his sisters and daughters. Will you come with me?”
He sauntered off, and they followed him, Will grinning at being called Master Will. His ego was getting as big as Hayden’s.
The butler glanced at them, and Robert seized the opportunity. “As we arrived, there was a fellow leaving the house.”
“Ah, yes, he’s a Mr. Stone too. Mr. Swift-Stone.”
Robert missed a step, then collected himself. “What’s his Christian name?”
“Nicholas. He’s married to Lady Sarah, Lord Middlebury’s sister. He resembles you and Master Will. Might he be a cousin?”
“I’ve been away from England for many decades,” Robert responded, “so I don’t remember a cousin named Nicholas, but I wouldn’t be surprised to have one.”
Robert peeked around, hoping he’d see Mr. Swift-Stone again, but they had already left the foyer so the front door wasn’t visible.
“He’s staying with us for the wedding,” the butler said. “Once he’s back, I’ll be sure you’re properly introduced.”
They marched on, Will brimming with raised brows and more grins, but with a few more strides, all memories of Mr. Swift-Stone were tucked away. They were ushered into a cozy parlor filled with sofas and chairs, and it was packed with people.
Hayden was in the center of it all, lounged on a sofa like a damned king. Or perhaps like an Arabian sultan visiting his harem. He had two very pretty little girls draped across his lap. They gazed up at him like adoring puppies. Several women sat on the floor at his feet, touching his legs as if to be certain he was real. There were even more women hovering behind him, every female assessing him with enormous approval and amazement.
There were men scattered about too, but they kept their distance, watching Hayden with wary frowns, as if they couldn’t decide what to make of him. Robert could have informed them that they didn’t need to worry. Hayden gave off an aura of menace, and there was no tamping down his frightening qualities, but he didn’t usually behave violently.
He saw Robert and Will the minute they walked in, but he didn’t rise to greet them. Not that Robert minded. Hayden would have had to abandon his gaggle of worshipful admirers. Plus—with his wound being so fresh— he was probably too exhausted to stand.
“Robert!” A genuine smile flashed. “There you are! I thought you’d never show up.”
“I wouldn’t miss it.”
“Any trouble on the road?”
“No trouble at all.”
“Come meet my sisters,” Hayden said. “Come meet my daughters.”
Robert smiled too and went over to him. Will was by his side, and the letter from Simon Barnes that had been shoved into the bag on his saddle was good and truly forgotten.
* * * *
Mildred was sitting on a bench in the park behind the manor and enjoying a last bit of warm sun before it dropped in the west.
When Hayden Henley had initially arrived, she’d dawdled in the crowd, but had hung back so as not to impose on the nostalgic reunion. The Henley siblings were sequestered in the small parlor where they liked to gather after supper or on rainy afternoons, and she’d snuck off, being careful not to let Sarah or the twins see her go.
They’d have demanded she tarry, but she hadn’t felt she should be privy to what Hayden Henley talked about with his sisters. Sarah could tell her later—if she wished Mildred to be apprised.
Nicholas had felt the same, and he’d tiptoed out too. He was out in the stables, checking on a wobbly wheel on her coach, and he would join her shortly. They’d loaf and discuss their opinion of his new brother-in-law.
For a man who’d been dead for ten years, Hayden Henley was incredibly hale and fit, but there was a hardness in his eyes that indicated rough experiences, and she hoped he’d be able to adjust to living in boring old England again without too much difficulty.
A tall, thin, and very handsome man exited the house onto the verandah. She didn’t pay him much attention as he lit a cheroot, then strolled down into the grass to smoke it. He was about her own age, and he had intriguing, weathered features signifying decades of adventures that could like
ly provide many interesting stories.
She hadn’t met him and wondered if he wasn’t another Wallace relative who’d come for the wedding. On further reflection, she figured he had to be with Hayden Henley.
Like Henley, he was dressed in a bandit’s sort of clothes—flowing white shirt, tan trousers, black boots—and he was heavily armed, as Henley had been armed. It was as if both of them were constantly expecting a fight to break out.
Nicholas was approaching, and she waved at him, observing as he hurried down the garden path. The man noticed him too. They smiled a greeting, and Nicholas walked over to him.
Just as he did, a boy who had to be fifteen or sixteen appeared on the verandah. He searched the garden, found the man, and skipped down the steps. The boy was another person she hadn’t met, and he looked so much like the man that she assumed they were father and son.
The man, the boy, and Nicholas stood together in a circle, and suddenly, a loud buzzing started in her ears. Her pulse was racing.
She might have been staring at a painting of the same fellow at three different phases of his life: youth, middle, older. It was as if a painter had taken a male face and gradually matured it through the various stages.
Nicholas was the first to speak, and he was near enough that Mildred could hear.
“We passed each other on the front stairs,” he said to the man, “but we weren’t introduced.”
“Yes, the butler informs me we share the same surname of Stone.” Nicholas peeked over at Mildred, as the man gestured to the boy. “My son, Will, and I were thinking we might be cousins. I haven’t been in England in several decades, and I don’t remember all my kin.”
Nicholas’s mind was whirring, and he almost seemed afraid as he asked, “What’s your Christian name?”
Mildred gasped. She didn’t need to wait for the man’s reply. As if a magnet drew her from her seat, she stumbled up and called, “Robert? Robert Stone—is that you?”
He turned toward her. “Yes, I’m Robert Stone.”
He studied Mildred, scowling, curious as to how she knew him and if he should know her. But then it had been thirty long years. She was so stunned her legs gave out, and she collapsed down onto a knee.
“Mother!” Nicholas shouted, and he rushed over and grabbed her.
Robert and his son rushed over too as Nicholas lifted her to her feet. He eased her onto the bench.
“You’re very familiar to me, ma’am,” Robert said, “but I can’t place you.”
“Oh, oh.” Mildred could hardly breathe. “Yes, Robert, I’m quite familiar to you.”
He scrutinized her, and tentatively, he murmured, “Mildred? Mildred Farnsworth?”
She burst into tears. She didn’t mean to, but she was so overwhelmed.
She’d frittered her life away, watching for him. In the beginning after he’d vanished, she’d absolutely believed he’d come back for her. Eventually, she’d had to accept that he wasn’t coming back.
She’d always prayed that she’d cross paths with him someday, and she’d invented a thousand scenarios as to how and where it might occur. But never for a moment had she envisioned the encounter happening in Alex Wallace’s garden.
Why was he at Wallace Downs?
Recently, she’d given up all that hoping, had decided it was time to move on. As many people had counseled, all that yearning had driven her a bit mad. And now…when she’d surrendered to reality, here he was! Like magic!
Fate was so strange.
“Mildred!” He appeared stricken. “Don’t cry.”
“I can’t help it.” She swiped at her cheeks as Nicholas pulled a kerchief from his pocket and handed it to her.
“What are you doing at Wallace Downs?” Robert asked.
“What are you doing?” she countered.
“I’m Hayden Henley’s friend and partner. I’ve been traveling with him for years, and he wanted me to meet his family. How about you?”
“Nicholas is my son, and he’s married to Sarah Henley. I’m…he’s…you are…we…ah…”
She couldn’t explain.
When Robert had abandoned her after their failed elopement, they hadn’t known she was increasing with his child. Though with how they’d carried on, it shouldn’t have been a surprise. They’d gone at it like a pair of rabbits, but then, they’d presumed they were about to wed, that shortly, they’d be husband and wife so any misbehavior would be excused by a recitation of the vows in Gretna Green.
Yet their wedding had never transpired. Her father had caught them and dragged her home.
Robert didn’t know she’d had a baby. He didn’t know that baby had been jerked from her arms minutes after it was born and supposedly put out for adoption. He didn’t know how Mildred had grieved and mourned, how she’d fretted and searched.
His son, Nicholas, was right next to him, but he didn’t know, and she couldn’t confess it. It was beyond her.
Nicholas immediately recognized her dilemma.
“I’ll tell him, Mother. Would you like me to?”
“Yes, please.”
“Mr. Stone,” Nicholas said to him, “I’m betting this will come as a shock to you, but I am Mildred’s son.” He hesitated, and when Robert simply frowned, not understanding, Nicholas added. “I am your son too.”
Robert’s frown deepened. “What?”
“When you left,” Nicholas continued, “were you aware she was pregnant with your child? We’ve assumed you were unaware. We assumed you were too honorable to have deserted her when she was in dire straits.”
Robert was flummoxed. “You’re claiming I’m your father? Is that it?”
“Well, look at me. Look close. We could be twins.”
The four of them froze, an odd quartet, and for a horrified instant, she worried Robert would deny her and Nicholas, that he might declare it impossible, that there had been no affair. The pause extended long enough for it to dawn on her that Nicholas had a brother. That he was with them too.
Had Robert married? Was he still married? How many children had he sired? How many siblings were there? My, my but her family was growing by leaps and bounds.
Robert yanked his attention from Nicholas and focused it on Mildred. “You were increasing?”
“Yes.”
“I had no idea,” he insisted. “I swear.”
He was so bewildered that she could only chuckle. “I believe you, but pardon me if I ask: Where have you been, you unreliable oaf?”
Before Robert could begin his answer, Nicholas gazed at Will Stone and suggested, “Why don’t you and I give them some privacy? We have a few matters of our own to discuss.”
Will studied his father, studied Mildred. “I’m completely confused. What’s happening?”
Nicholas laid a hand on Will’s shoulder. “Let’s walk to the beach. I’ll explain it.”
Mildred said to Nicholas, “Do you realize who he is to you?”
“Yes, Mother, I realize, and I’ll tell him. I can’t wait.”
* * * *
“Mildred. My goodness,” Robert said. “We’ve both lived a lifetime since we were acquainted all those years ago.”
“But it seems as if I still know you, as if not a single day has passed.”
She gestured to the spot beside her on the bench, and he eased himself down, feeling so fragile he might break into a thousand jagged pieces. They stared out at the woods, watching as Nicholas and Will disappeared into the trees.
“Where have you been?” she asked again after they’d vanished from view. “What went on that last afternoon?”
“Your father had me arrested.”
“I figured it was something like that.”
“A week or two later, his lawyer visited me in my jail cell. He had a letter from you.”
She frowned. “What did it say?”
“After reflecting on our ‘rash act’, you had obeyed your father after all and married your fiancé.”<
br />
She tsked with disgust. “I never wrote you a letter—and I never wed my fiancé.”
“Oh.”
“I wouldn’t have. My father locked me in my room for months until we learned my condition. Then I was locked in an unwed mother’s home until Nicholas was born.”
“Oh,” he repeated.
“It was hard for me.”
“I can imagine.”
“My father seized Nicholas, and I never saw him again until just recently. It was very hard. I was afraid my father might have killed him, but he didn’t.”
“Killed him!”
“Yes, he was that angry, but he didn’t commit murder. He paid a servant to take Nicholas away and raise him. She was a drunken shrew, and he suffered terribly.” She swallowed down a wave of strident emotion. “I searched for him forever, but he managed to find me.”
“I’m glad.”
“I named him after you.”
Robert smiled. “You named him Robert?”
“Yes, but someone changed it. He’s always been Nicholas, so that’s what I call him.” She scrutinized his weathered, tired face. “I waited for you forever too. Everyone told me I was crazy, but I kept waiting.”
She glanced down at her lap, as if she was embarrassed or as if she’d done something wrong. He reached over and patted her hand.
“When I read that letter,” he said, “I was so furious. I convinced myself that you were fickle and inconstant in your affection.”
“I suppose you would have been irked, but you knew me so well. Didn’t you ever wonder if it might not have been true?”
He chuckled miserably. “No, I never wondered. I was young and stupid, and your father was so powerful and wealthy. I assumed he pressured you unmercifully until you ceased your defiance. I simply packed my bags and fled England. I believed you were wed, so what was the point of tarrying? I signed on with a merchant crew bound for the Orient. I never came back until now—with Hayden. I escorted him home so I could be sure he made it safe and sound.”
“I was so worried about you that I used to consult fortunetellers. They claimed you were all right.”
“I was—mostly—but it’s been a difficult life, a lonely life.”