The house loomed above him, looking much the same as it had done since he was a boy as small as his son. The servants were scuttling about—both the ones he’d brought from London and the one’s he’d left behind here at Poppledown Park years before—unpacking the carriage and seeing to the horses. He could have gone straight in, of course, and carried Gabe straight to the nursery. But he found himself waiting, staring at the house, a mixture of emotions curling in his stomach. The bittersweet memories of Gabriel’s birth flooded back, and of the early days of his marriage, when he and Mary had danced around the estate like two actors on a stage, happiness lurking around every corner.
But also anger. Anger at his grandfather. And if he was honest, anger at his wife.
He had the two of them to thank for reducing his life to the plot of a horrid novel, though it was rather uncharitable of him to think it.
He knew it was beyond the pale to blame her for dying in childbirth, but when she did, joy and hope fled with her. His son shifted in his arms, and he looked down to catch his son grinning up at him. Well then, perhaps not all joy and hope.
“Are we here, Papa?” came Gabriel’s bright voice.
Nick smiled down at his son. “We are indeed.”
Gabriel flashed a grin in return and wriggled against Nick’s arms, sliding down to the ground. He didn’t remember the place of his birth, of course, but a quick glance around apparently gave him the information he needed, as he rushed off to investigate the plant life in the garden, probably hoping to find an interesting species of insect.
Nick sighed. Perhaps he was looking at this all wrong. Perhaps instead of being angry, he ought to thank his grandfather for this goose chase. At least it moved him out of London and back to Devonshire. And solving the clues ought to give him something to do.
He had truly hoped he would find London tolerable by now. Instead, it seemed to grow more and more bothersome. Terence and Alice had asked him to stay a bit longer, hoping he’d find a bride and eliminate the need to participate in this silly game of his grandfather’s devising. Alice, in her kindhearted way, had tried hard to keep his social schedule filled. He appreciated her efforts, because they demonstrated her love for him, but he found the actual events to be pestilentious.
And then he’d caught himself standing at one side of a crowded ballroom, scanning the crowd for a glimpse of his tainted Cinderella. He finally realized that the only reason he’d agreed to stay in London at all was for a chance he might meet her again. Her face had been partially covered by her domino, but somehow he convinced himself that he would recognize her anyway. That somehow some part of her soul would communicate with some part of his. But standing there that night, he saw only the same dreary debutantes. He’d given himself a mental kick for being so foolish and determined to leave at once for Poppledown Park. Besides, better she disappointed him now by not appearing than later by turning out to be as dreadful as her connection to Hector Dunmore suggested she would be.
So he had decided to begin his grandfather’s game after all. He needed some time away to clear his mind of the mystery woman before he forced himself to endure more of Alice’s misplaced kindness. Besides, his conversation with the lady in the library had reminded him how much he had missed Mr. Robinson, and this trip would give him the chance to visit. The man had always been a mentor to him.
Nick’s own father had often been away in London on business or serving in Parliament, frequently allowing his children to visit their maternal grandfather at Poppledown Park while he was away. Grandfather Maple had encouraged them to play with the vicar’s children, Letitia and Mark, which allowed them to get to know the vicar and his wife as well. Mr. Robinson had been a steady presence, gently guiding the boys as they played. It was he who taught Nick the joys of serving others and the power of solitude and prayerful reflection.
Nick was of an age with Mark Robinson, and Nick and Terence had spent much of their youth with him, Terence being only a year older. They would roam the countryside, fighting imaginary villains, with Emma and Letitia playing the roles of damsels in distress, or twin Boadiceas routing the Romans, depending on their whim.
Mark was placid and steady and true. One could not wish for a steadier friend. The boys had turned into men and developed other dear friendships, but Nick had grieved mightily when he’d heard of Mark’s death.
He shook himself from his reverie. His arms freed of their burden, Nick shrugged deeply. His shirt clung to his skin inside his coat. If he were wise, he’d go inside and change to a fresh one. But inside, there were only sad memories. And a ten-minute walk would bring him to a dear friend. So he would take a walk.
Stokes, the butler, was nearby, directing footmen in their unpacking duties. Nick caught his eye. “I’m going to the vicarage.”
The man’s eyes widened slightly, as though he would give a warning, but he quickly recovered. “Yes, Mr. Daventry. Very good.”
Nick wondered what that was about. Likely, the housekeeper was worrying over readying rooms or some such. He had a moment of regret for making her life more difficult, but still, he needed some room to breathe before he faced reality.
He called to Gabriel, who by now had found said insect and also a stick to dig in the dirt. It was amazing how quick that boy was. He, of course, brought the beetle and stick when he ran to his father.
“Gabriel, let’s go for a walk to the vicarage. I’ll finally introduce you to Mr. Robinson.”
The darkness in Nick’s heart lightened somewhat at the sight of his son running through the brilliant colors of the wildflowers blooming along the path. The sea air ruffled them up, lending that peculiar mix of sweet and salt to the air that spoke of home. He could see the steeple rising over the hill, and Gabriel ran instinctively to grab the low-hanging branch of the tree that Nick and Mark used to climb. It was Nick’s boyhood home. And now it appeared it would be home again, at least for a while.
They passed the cottage that had always been a safe haven for travelers and wanderers. The garden was Mr. Robinson’s hobby, and Nick had never seen so much as a blade of grass out of place. But now the branches of the Quarrenden apple tree remained unpruned, and too full of tiny green apples. Butterflies swarmed the purple buddleia blooms, which grew far beyond their usual border. Vines grew up around the bench, almost disguising it completely. It wasn’t right, and Nick wondered now if Stokes’ widened eyes had something to do with Mr. Robinson’s health.
Washing hung from the line behind the house, which likely meant an extra companion to dinner at the vicarage. Assuming of course that Mr. Robinson was feeling up to dining. And invited him.
Around the corner, the house came into view, and he felt his heart swell with emotion. He loved Poppledown Park, but right now, with his swirling emotions, it didn’t give him the same feeling of homecoming as the vicarage. Especially with no one at Poppledown Park to greet him. Gabriel, as any five-year-old boy was wont to do, romped nearby, and Nick called out to him, gathering him in closer as they approached the house.
He loped up the steps and rang the bell. A grin broke out on the old butler’s face when he opened the door. “Master Nicholas! What a pleasure!”
“A pleasure to see you as well, Mr. Ellis!” Nick said, pounding the butler on the back. Ellis had been a butler all his life, and when his employers had deemed him too old for service, he’d been left with nowhere to go. Mr. Robinson had taken him in and put him to work, though Nick was sure the vicarage living could ill support the expense.
“And who is this fine young man?” Ellis asked in awed tones, his brows raised as though he’d never seen such majesty.
Gabriel grinned back at him, and Nick knew Ellis had gained a new friend with his game.
“Ellis, may I present my son, Gabriel Daventry,” Nick said.
“A fine lad, Master Nicholas, and one to be proud of.” Ellis ushered them inside. “Come in. Come in! They will be so pleased to see you!”
Now it was Nick’s brows that lifted. �
�They? I had expected to find Robinson alone this time of year.”
A grimace passed over Ellis’s face. “Ah, then you have not heard. Mr. Robinson fell ill last month. He is recovering, but he was very weakened, and his lungs have not yet healed. Mrs. Powell has come to stay while he convalesces.”
A mixture of concern and delight warred within Nick’s mind. He worried for his old friend, but thrilled he would see Letitia. He was almost as fond of her as he was his own sister. Ellis called for Mrs. Bartlett, who beamed with pleasure and promised to send refreshments up in a trice.
“I believe Mrs. Powell is resting,” Ellis told him, “but the vicar is reading in bed. I’ll just run up ahead to let him know of your arrival.” He gestured toward the drawing room. “I’ll not be more than a minute, but feel free to have a seat, if you wish.”
Nick wandered into the room and looked around. Gabriel plopped onto the comfortable sofa, still covered in the same upholstery Mrs. Robinson had chosen just before Nick had left for Eton. The painting on the wall had been there longer than he could remember. The chair beside the window had been set there for the purpose of naughty children taking time to reflect on their wrongdoing. He smiled, remembering the last time he had sat there, having said something uncharitable to Terence. It was truly good to be home—his real home, not London.
True to his word, Ellis returned before Nick had time to get bored. “Mr. Robinson is delighted that you have arrived. He demanded that I show you up immediately.”
“Well, we mustn’t disappoint him,” Nick said, catching Gabriel’s eye, indicating they should follow the servant up the stairs. He couldn’t contain his grin even before seeing the vicar, but when he passed through the threshold and actually saw that old familiar visage, he thought his face would split in two, the force of his smile was so great. He practically sprinted to the bed to embrace his dear friend.
“Nicholas, my son! How it warms my old soul to see your face! It has been far too long! When did you arrive back in England?”
“I arrived in London in the middle of May. Did you not receive my letter?”
Mr. Robinson grimaced. “Ah, well, I suppose that by the time it arrived, the illness had already taken me. I’ve only begun to see to my correspondence in the last fortnight, and I have piles of it to catch up on.”
Just then, Letitia’s voice carried into the door. “Father, who’s that you’re talking to?” She rounded the corner from the corridor and then let out a happy shriek. “Nick! Whatever are you doing here?”
“I came to introduce my son to an old friend, and discovered two in residence.” Nick grinned at her, then took in her slightly ungainly figure. “And perhaps a new one, ere long. Congratulations, dear.”
Letitia’s hand dropped to her belly. “Thank you. Mr. Powell and I are both of us delighted and terrified all at once.” She smiled happily. “But who is this?! Surely this is not the babe you had with you last time? All grown up this way?”
“Oh yes! It happens before we are ready, I’m afraid. Mrs. Powell, Mr. Robinson, may I present my son, Gabriel?”
A rare moment of shyness came upon his son, who slid slightly behind Nick’s legs to peek out at the vicar and his daughter.
Thankfully, Letitia knew just what to do. “Gabriel, we’re so happy to have you here! We haven’t had a child in the vicarage for far too long, but if you give me a moment to fetch them, I know just where my brother, Mark, left his toy soldiers. We can set up a battle over there in the patch of sunlight by the window!”
Gabriel beamed his assent, and Letitia disappeared into the hallway.
Mr. Robinson had settled back into his pillows, an easy smile on his face. “It does my heart good to have you hear, Nicholas. You must stay to dinner and catch us up on all your exciting travels!”
“Thank you. I shall accept your kind offer, though I shall have to return to Poppledown Park to get this scamp settled into the nursery first,” he said, catching Gabriel’s eye.
The boy made a face but was distracted by the return of Letitia, who carried a small basket of toys.
“Did you invite him to dinner yet, Papa?” she asked.
“Of course, my dear! What do you take me for?” her father replied, but there was no heat to his words.
Letitia’s mouth curved up indulgently at her father. “We will have quite a party then, with Mrs. Stanhope! I’ll let Bartlett know right away.”
“She has already seen me, Letitia,” Nick said. “I’m sure she expects that you will invite me. Who is Mrs. Stanhope?”
Letitia’s face brightened with the eagerness of gossip, just as it had when she was a girl with a juicy tale. “She’s our guest at the cottage. She’s a widow. She traveled here alone. Can you believe it?”
Nick didn’t see the problem with a widow traveling alone, but Letitia seemed to find it scandalous.
Mr. Robinson waved off Letitia’s fervor. “She is quite lovely and quite a hand at answering correspondence.” Mr. Robinson was clearly taken with this woman, but then that was the lovely thing about Mr. Robinson. He was quite taken with almost everyone.
Letitia laughed. “It’s true. She is quite lovely. I should better behave myself.” Then with a wink that belied the idea, she said, “Of course Papa likes her. She laughs at every one of his jokes!”
Nick wondered for a moment if this widow would be a match for the vicar. The old man had taken the loss of his wife hard, and perhaps remarrying would be good for him. It would be nice to have someone to look after him, especially now that Letitia would soon be busy with her own family. “I shall look forward to meeting her. But for now, let us have a lengthy chat and catch up.” He pulled a chair near the bed for Letitia and one for himself and sat down to enjoy his visit.
Chapter 10
Hours later, whilst eating squab pie at the vicarage dining table, Nick reflected on the irony of the situation. He had left London partially in an attempt to forget about his mysterious masked woman with a tainted reputation. He had retreated to safety only to arrive at this dinner and discover three things. The first, his assumption that the visiting widow was a quiet elderly aunt was completely wrong. Instead, a vivacious young woman several years younger than Letitia sat at the table. Nick shuddered when he remembered his earlier thought that Mr. Robinson should marry her.
Second, he was right that he would recognize her, despite their first meeting being both masked and in the dark. The moment Mrs. Susannah Stanhope had walked into the drawing room, his senses had begun to tingle. It was almost as though the angel Gabriel himself were standing in the room shouting “That’s her! That’s her! Here’s your Cinderella!”
And third, it was his own fault she was here. He had told her of the cottage. He was quite petulant about it. He had, after all, traveled all the way from London to escape her, or at least the idea of her. Devilish inconsiderate of her to turn up.
Letitia confirmed his suspicions during dinner when she recounted for him Mrs. Stanhope’s tale of the masked man who sent her to Seaton. He reflected grumpily that he never once suggested she actually travel there. He merely said she might want to do some reflecting in a removed location. Preferably one that didn’t interfere—or even intersect—with his own plans. And even worse than the idea of her being here was the idea that she might bring Hector Dunmore and his like upon them. Hector was known to associate with Nick’s cousin Julian, who would surely be aware of the status of Poppledown Park. In all likelihood, even a hint that Nick was actually attempting their grandfather’s game would be enough to bring Julian to Devonshire.
The footman cleared the plates away and then returned with a tray of jam tartlets. As Nick lifted his spoon, he reflected that the worst of it was that she didn’t seem to recognize him at all. She was sitting there all innocence, completely unaware that she had cast his world into turmoil. Minx. Quite a lovely minx though. The candlelight shone on her dark golden blond hair. Her complexion was pale and smooth, with just enough red in her cheeks to give her a health
y appearance. And he thought perhaps he’d never seen a more perfect nose. He scoffed at himself. Her nose indeed. What kind of man even noticed a woman’s nose? He reminded himself of the author of a particularly cloying ode he’d once heard in a café in Paris. Ridiculous.
His thoughts were disrupted by Letitia’s question. “I was so busy learning of your endeavor earlier, Nick, that I completely forgot to ask after your family. How is your sister faring?”
“Emma is doing quite well, last I heard. All tucked in at home in Lincolnshire, expecting the newest babe. I haven’t seen her since my return, but Gabriel and I will visit this fall after the babe is born.” He shrugged. “It seems married life agrees with my sister.”
Letitia laughed. “Yes, that was the impression I’ve gotten in her letters to me, as well. It seems Fenton is a kind and generous husband. And what of your brother and Alice?”
Ah, here was a chance to enlighten their Mrs. Stanhope. “Everyone is lovely. Alice has recently been engaged in improving the library.” No hint of recognition from the lady in question.
“Oh? What has she done?” Letitia asked.
Nick doubted very much that Letitia held any real interest in the subject, but as he was not finished making his point, he carried on. “She’s added some additional seating, and upon my suggestion, some additional lighting. For those of us who find ourselves in libraries late at night.” Perhaps mention of a late-night library rendezvous would gain her attention.
Alas, no, it would seem not. He added more. “I do love to sit in the library. Even before the improvements. It’s such a lovely, peaceful place. An excellent place to sit and reflect on one’s day. On one’s choices.” He caught Mrs. Stanhope’s eye. “Or perhaps to find some quiet during a ball.”
There. He’d seen a spark of recognition dart through her eyes before she smoothed her features back into their passive expression. He congratulated himself heartily. Now at least she would know she had been caught out, even if he wouldn’t expose her to the residents of the vicarage. Not yet anyway.
Legacy Redeemed (Redeemed, Restored, Reclaimed Book 1) Page 8