by Rye Hart
Cressida intended to be gone tomorrow morning. She had already made arrangements to be taken to the inn where she would board the coach for a return to St. Anselm’s and, in time, her next patient. She had sent word to her father that she would be coming back home, having successfully accomplished her work at Pennington Manor. She packed neatly and efficiently, as she did everything. She did not allow herself to cry, or to think back on the tender moments of her time with Lord Richard. She would amputate this episode of her life as if it had never happened. She would be gone before Lord Richard returned so that there would be no goodbyes. She had explained her plan to the Earl, who agreed that her presence was no longer required and one did not expect an employee to linger over farewells. Her work was done, payment had been made, her duty was discharged. Lady Constance said nothing, but her eyes paid close attention as Cressida spoke.
“My dear Miss Lockwood,” she said when Cressida had finished. “You have given us something which no amount of money could adequately recompense. ‘Unto us a child is born; unto us a son is given’,” she quoted. “This season, those words from Scripture mean more than they ever have before.”
Cressida’s eyes filled with tears. “Thank you, Lady Constance,” she whispered before retreating from the room.
She was inside the coach the next morning, crammed in her seat by the window when she saw the powerful body of a chestnut horse with a black mane and tail pass by, followed by a more sedate mount. She saw Lord Richard turn in his seat to jest at Rheims for his laggard pace. Cressida pressed herself compactly against her seat so that she would not be visible from outside, but she needn’t have worried. Lord Richard had no interest in the stage on its way to London. Restored to his former life, the world he knew could once again resume its familiar schedule.
At Pennington Manor, Richard strode into the breakfast room, stripping off his gloves to fill a plate from the sideboard. “Good morning, Mama, Papa. We left London early this morning and I’m a starving man.”
“I thought to see you later today,” the Earl said. “You were never an early riser.”
“There’s much to do. I had a successful day yesterday with my tailor and I shall probably have to hock the ancestral jewels to pay for it,” Lord Richard said genially.
The Earl smiled. “I fancy the family vault will sustain the damage.”
“It’s quite amazing, really. It was good to see London again, of course, but all the same, I was in haste to return home.”
“Perhaps you are eager to resume your social life among the others of our standing, and you are looking forward to our guests tonight.”
“Yes, perhaps,” Lord Richard said, spearing a strip of bacon. “Miss Lockwood is quite correct; Mrs. Mays truly does prepare the best bacon I’ve ever eaten. I must go to her after I’m finished and commend her on her gastronomic insights.”
“Miss Lockwood is gone. She is on her way back to London.”
Lord Richard stared at his father, his bacon forgotten upon the fork in his hand. “Gone? What do you mean? Why would she depart so precipitously?”
“Her work is done. Why should she linger? Besides, she recognizes her station. She understands, as she should, that we are having guests tonight and she would be in the way.”
Lord Richard put down his fork. “On her way back to London, you say? I must have passed the coach.” He rose from his chair. “I must catch up to her.”
“Richard! What on earth are you saying? We are having guests tonight. Lady Lenore will be among them. You cannot abandon your duties as a host to run after a nursemaid who neglected to bid you farewell.”
“Father, Mother, Cressida Lockwood is much more than a nursemaid. She is the woman I love. I realized how shallow my feelings for Lady Lenore were. And how shallow were her feelings for me. I did not know the Crittendons were on the guest list for tonight, or I would have spoken sooner. I have never told anyone before what it felt like to be helpless. That day, when El Diablo threw me and I lay on the ground, unable to get up, I was ashamed. My fiancée was standing above me, telling me to get up and I could not. She could not understand why I did not simply rise to my feet and I could not explain to her I was unable to do so. I sent her away to tell my parents that I had been injured and that was genuine. But I wanted her to get away from me. I didn’t want to see myself as helpless and weak in her eyes. I do not expect you to understand, but in Cressida’s eyes, I am the stronger because I overcame my weakness. I must bring her back. She will be my wife, Father. Can you accept that?”
Before his father spoke, Lady Constance said, “We will accept your choice of bride, Richard. How could we not? Miss Lockwood is a phenomenal woman and I applaud your decision.”
The Earl was thunderstruck. “She is a nursemaid!”
Lady Constance got up from the table. “She will be our daughter-in-law, dearest. But Richard, you must take Rheims with you, and you must speak to her father. I will make your excuses for tonight.”
Richard was already on his way, calling for Rheims, donning his multi-caped cloak and heading out the door on his way to the stables. Rheims, alerted to the errand, chose a swifter mount this time.
The coach moved slowly, making it no effort for them to overtake it on horseback. The driver, convinced that he was being attacked by highwaymen, pulled the horses to a stop and begged them not to shoot.
“We are not armed, my good man. I merely need to speak to one of your passengers.” In a loud, ringing voice, Lord Richard called out Cressida’s name.
The other passengers gazed at her with a mixture of alarm and interest. Embarrassed, Cressida tried in vain to shrink back against her seat, but then the stagecoach door opened and Richard stood before her.
“Miss Lockwood,” he said formally, although his eyes were merry. “I have something for you.”
He took from his pocket a white feather and handed it to her. “You gave me this when we first met and you thought me too cowardly to undertake what you had planned for me. If you do not have the courage to continue on the path that we have begun, I shall be forced to call you craven.”
Now the guests were watching in rapt fascination as if they were attending the theatre. Cressida, her face burning, looked at Lord Richard helplessly. “My lord,” she began. “I am on my way back to London, to my father, and to my work. That is my place.”
“Cressida, I really do not wish to propose to you on the highway with an audience. I would much rather do so in private, with your father’s blessing. Now I demand that you get out of this coach or I shall brand you a coward. We must hurry to London so that I may meet with your father and ask for his permission to marry you. Will you leave the coach now, or must I carry you out?”
“You are making a spectacle of me,” she said, aware that all eyes were on her.
“So I am. But there will be more eyes gazing upon you when we exchange our wedding vows, so I suppose you had best accustom yourself to it.”
He held out his hand. Hesitantly, she took it and accepted his help in descending from the coach.
Lord Richard’s gaze consumed her with an expression of delight, pride, and the ownership of a man who prized what he had attained. “Up on El Diablo now,” he commanded. “He will carry us both to London. Rheims is our chaperone.”
“I do not ride, my lord,” she said.
“In this,” he replied, taking her into his arms, “I am the tutor. But if you persist in calling me by my title and not by my name, I shall make you walk to London.”
“I cannot sit astride a horse, not in these skirts!” she said, aghast.
“My love, we shall be riding so quickly that no one will have time to gaze upon what are undoubtedly most alluring ankles.” He held out his hand. “El Diablo is fond of you. He and I have reached an understanding. He knows that he threw me once. He knows that I will not let him do so again. We are in accord. I have chosen for my wife a woman who can, should she choose, throw me. But I will give her no reason to do so. Are we in accord?�
�
She raised her head to find that lips were waiting. “Rheims, oblige me by fastening your gaze upon that tree yonder for a short time.”
“Yes, my lord,” Rheims said, grinning. “It’s a fine tree.”
“Now, Cressida, we have time for a kiss before we make our way to London. Pray do not waste any time in protesting or we shall be delayed.”
She let him embrace her, his arms strong around her, his kiss a pledge of strength and love. She kissed him in return, marveling at what was transpiring. He broke off the kiss with an expression of triumph.
Helping her onto El Diablo, Lord Richard instructed her. “Sit like so, and I will ensure that you do not fall.” He got up on El Diablo, taking the reins and keeping her solidly between his arms. “To London and to love!”
Lord Richard requested Cressida’s hand in marriage just as he intended and the two were married in three months’ time. They had a momentous ceremony which ended with the beautiful couple being whisked away into the sunset, on a carriage led by El Diablo.
The End
Sisters of the South - Books 1-3
Marianna
Chapter One
"Stunning," Amelia breathed. "Kevin will not be able to take his eyes off of you." She reached forward to touch the delicate lace of her sister's dress. "It's so pretty and so romantic," she sighed.
Georgina snorted. "It's just a dress Amelia."
"Yes, but it represents the start of their eternal love," Amelia protested.
"Look, Georgie," Marianna interjected, "I know how you feel about marriage and how it is —"
"Hogwash?" Georgina finished Marianna's sentence for her. "Look, I get that you want to marry and aspire to be the best wife possible, but I don't know why you had to go and pick Kevin Patrick of all people? He is-," she paused as if trying to find the word that would least offend her sister, "boring."
"So?" Amelia burst out. "He's terribly handsome and very rich. Marianna could have dozens of dresses just as pretty as her wedding dress!"
"Those dresses would be worthless if I had to be saddled to the dullest man on earth," Georgina countered.
Marianna chuckled at her two sisters and their dividing opinions. Marianna, with her grace and calm demeanor, was not one to be offended by them. She knew where her sisters were coming from. Georgie had aspirations that involved a literary career, and Amelia wanted a life of aesthetic leisure in order to pursue her artistic inclinations. They both viewed her marriage through the rose-tinted gaze of their own dreams, which made it difficult for them to see that the reason Marianna was marrying Kevin Patrick wasn't for the domestic life or for the wealth.
"Girls," Marianna broke through their bickering. "Have you thought that I might be marrying Kevin because I love him?" she teased lightly.
Georgina and Amelia looked at their elder sister in shock.
Georgina snorted for the second time that morning. "Love? That is just a fairytale," she said boldly.
"Don't be so cynical Georgie," Amelia chastised her. "I would love him too if I could live in that big house, and ride around in that fancy carriage, and have a horde of servants to attend to my every whim."
"That is beside the point!" Georgina let out an exasperated sigh as her frustrations grew with her youngest sister.
"Just another day in the Wellington household," Marianna teased.
Georgina and Amelia both turned toward each other, their eyes flaring with the heat of the argument. Once they saw how red and purple the other's face was, they lost their edge and burst into fits of giggles.
"Your face is all mottled purple," Amelia pointed out to Georgina in between the uncontrollable heaves of laughter.
"Speak for yourself," Georgina teased. "Your nose is as red as as tomato!"
Marianna chuckled along with her sisters before turning her attention back to her reflection in the full-length mirror. "I think I am ready to go,"
"Excuse me?" A young pageboy peeked cautiously around the corner that separated the back fitting room from the front of the store. "I have a message for a Ms. Wellington," he said shyly.
"Yes?" all three Wellington sisters said in perfect unison.
The boy looked confused as his face darted among all three women. "I, um," he stopped and started again. "It's for Mr. Patrick's, um, fiancé."
"That would be me," Marianne descended from the raised platform like an elegant angel. "Thank you," she said, taking the paper from his outstretched hand.
He lingered a little bit longer before Georgina offered him a tip and shooed him away.
Marianna quickly tore the crisp envelope open and pulled out a short note. The moment she read the first line, she paled.
"Are you alright?" Amelia asked cautiously.
Marianna extended the letter with shaky hands. Her eyes appeared haunted by the words delivered on the cream colored paper.
Georgina grabbed the letter from her sister and scanned the contents of the page quickly. She let out an abrupt gasp, covering her mouth in the process. "No," she breathed, her expression twisting in horror.
"Yes," Marianna said in a strained voice. Her eyes had already begun to well up with tears. "He's dead. Kevin is dead," she said as she collapsed into a pile of white lace.
Chapter Two
"So, what is going to happen now?" Amelia asked curiously.
"Hush Amelia, your sister is still in mourning," their mother chastised the youngest Wellington sister for her insensitivity. "We've only just returned home from the funeral."
"It is ok," Marianna whispered as she placed her black hat and veil on the dining room table. "I don't know," she said in answer to her sister’s question.
Amelia's eyes grew big as she realized what her sister was saying. "Will we have to move then?"
"Amelia!" Their mother spoke harshly.
Marianna knew that her mother was just trying to protect her, but what Amelia was saying was the truth. Although it felt like the hardest part of the day was simply surviving her soulmate's funeral, she knew the road ahead wouldn't be easy. It was an unfortunate reality, but the life she had hoped for had been buried along with him.
Marianna turned toward her mother and two sisters. "I understand that our family had depended on Kevin to keep us financially afloat. And now that he is, is —" she stuttered as she tried to hold back the tears, "gone, we will have to do our best to make ends meet until I am able to find a job to support us." Marianna looked at their worried faces and her heart ached to remedy the situation. "Where is father?" she asked with some reservation.
"I don't know," Georgina shook her head. "Probably at one of the many houses he likes to gamble our livelihood away at."
Their mother, pale and ill, looked distraught. "I'm so sorry girls," she wailed.
"It's not your fault," Marianna moved to comfort her mother. They had all been through so much. A few years ago their father suffered a large financial loss when one of his investments had fallen through. They had to downsize their house and dismiss all their servants just to try and make ends meet. The blow had damaged his pride and he sought comfort in the many gambling houses in Boston, just outside their smaller community of Valley Springs. He would be gone for days at a time, and when he returned empty handed, it would be up to the girls to try and gather enough funds to cover the minimum of their monthly expenses. Marianna was forced to take a job as a governess for a wealthy family at an innocent age of sixteen. Although the Cavanaughs had welcomed her in and had given her a wage that was just enough to keep their family afloat for the past two years, it meant that the responsibility rested on Marianna to keep her family fed and clothed. However, when she became engaged, Kevin had offered to support her family if she gave up her job. At first she had worried that she wouldn't find another position, as her father's dalliances left a black mark on the Wellington family in good society, but Kevin quickly quelled those fears. She had been lucky that Kevin had cared for her despite her family’s tainted reputation; he had been a Godsend. But now
he was gone and Marianna had to find a new way to make sure that her family did not fall apart.
"I worry that I failed you," their mother wept. Her upper lip trembled slightly as tears filled her eyes.
"Don't say that." Marianna brought her mother in for a hug, cradling her head in a comforting gesture.
Amelia and Georgina joined them in the emotional embrace.
They were interrupted by the sound of a knock at the front door.
Marianna disentangled herself from her family. "Take mother upstairs. I'll handle the guests as they probably just want to extend their condolences." She moved toward the front door, while her sisters ushered their distressed mother to her room to rest. She hesitated a moment before answering; her own weariness from the long day had finally taken its toll. She was exhausted from the pitying looks, the many condolences, and the unspoken white elephant in the room — how would the Wellingtons survive now that Mr. Patrick no longer supported them? Despite everything, Marianna held her head high and kept her resolve strong. She knew things would work out in the end. It had to.
When she opened the door, the friendly faces of Mr. and Mrs. Cavanaugh, the couple that had employed her as a governess for the past few years, greeted her.
"Ms. Marianna," Mrs. Cavanaugh spoke with a regretful tone. "I am so sorry for everything, we can't imagine what you are going through."
"Thank you for your sentiment. I've had better days." Marianna tried to put a faint smile on her face. She knew that the Cavanaughs had good intentions, but sometimes they lacked the self-awareness to know when they were being a bit too much to handle.
"Deepest sympathies," Mr. Cavanaugh said staunchly through his thick moustache.
Marianna nodded her acknowledgement to the gentleman.
"May we come in?" the ever outspoken Mrs. Cavanaugh pressed. She had the innate ability to always get her way, at least where Marianna was concerned, as she found it hard to say no to such a reckoning force.