Lilith and the Stable Hand: Bluestocking Brides

by Samantha Holt

  “I think I could make you anything and you would still devour it after a long day. Especially with how hard you are working.”

  “It will be worth it.” He stood and carried the bowl over to the sink. “Once Lord Thornefield has made his decision, it will be worth it.”

  “And if for some reason he decides you are not to be head groom, what then?”

  Harry eyed the dirty bowl and set it down. He’d rather not think about that. “Then I will find another job.”

  “We are doing fine, Harry.” Iris put a hand to his arm. “We have a roof over our heads and food in our bellies. It’s more than we had growing up, and you know that well enough.”

  “Yes, it’s enough, but I want more than ‘enough’. For all of us. And particularly for Maisie.”

  “Just take care not to work yourself to death. She would rather have a healthy, happy father than fine food or fancy clothes.”

  He patted her hand. Iris meant well, and he understood her concerns but once he was head groom, he could relax a little. It would mean less hard labor and with Iris and Maisie living on the estate he would see more of his daughter.

  “I think I’m going to go to the Bluebell.”

  She frowned. “Did something happen at the house?”

  He shook his head. Harry knew why she asked. He only normally drank when something bad had happened like when they had lost one of the horses to illness a few months ago. “You just told me to relax, Iris. What better way to do that than with an ale in my hand?”

  “Do not be too late and be safe.” She kissed him on the cheek.

  “I won’t be long,” he assured her.

  And he wouldn’t. He only planned to have a drink or two then slip back home once Iris was asleep. As much as he was grateful for her concern, he wasn’t in the mood for her questions or how her conversation seemed to keep slipping over to talk of Lady Lilith.

  A quick stroll down the road brought him to the Bluebell. There were finer establishments in the village, but no one here would care that he still smelled of the stables and that his shirt was grimy. The ale was plentiful and cheap too.

  Light spilled out of the windows onto the road. A horse grazed out front and two men were sat on the dirt next to it, nursing ales. Neither looked his way as he entered the pub.

  The scent of hops and stale sweat struck him. Patrons crowded around the bar and the long tables that occupied the room. In one corner, a woman, her gown cut too low, played the battered piano, striking a wrong note every once in a while.

  Harry ordered two ales and found himself a seat at the end of the table. He glanced around the room and pressed his lips together. Why he had thought this would be a good place to escape all his worries, he did not know.

  “Harry!”

  He stiffened when an arm came about him. Twisting, he eyed the young lad. “Good evening, Tom.”

  The young stable-hand was a scrawny lad who had been working for Lord Thornefield only a few months. He worked hard enough but did not have the same passion for horses Harry did.

  “Didn’t expect to see you here.” Tom slurred his words and ale sloshed from his mug when he forced another patron aside so he could sit next to Harry. “Oi, Will, look who it is,” he bellowed over in the direction of the bar.

  Will—another stable-hand—made his way over and sat opposite Harry with a grin. “Never seen you in here before, Harry. Thought you were too busy working for a tipple.”

  That was mostly because Harry only came in on occasion and did his best to avoid the two men. Harry couldn’t say he had never had a drunken night himself, but he was getting too old to get deep in his cups regularly like Tom and Will were known to do. Both would come into work with sore heads tomorrow and he’d have to work them hard to sweat out the drink.

  “Let us get you a drink, Harry,” Tom offered. “Got to be nice to our future boss, don’t we?” He winked at Will.

  Harry shook his head and lifted one of his ales. “This will do nicely.”

  “Nonsense. Everyone says you work too hard. Nothing wrong with a drink every now and then.” Tom got up from the table and as he turned, knocked into another patron, sending the two drinks in his hand flying.

  Tom lifted his hands. “Sorry, mister. Didn’t see you there.”

  “Are you blind?” the man demanded.

  Harry stood slowly. He didn’t want to get into a fight, but he could see the danger simmering behind the man’s gaze already. Large with a rotund stomach and meaty fists that were etched with scratches, he looked like the sort of fellow who wasn’t averse to using his size to his advantage. And a scrawny lad like Tom would have no chance.

  “You owe me a drink,” the man growled.

  Will joined Tom in a trice. Larger than Tom and over-confident on drink no doubt, he stared down the man. “It was an accident. And he ain’t got any coin.”

  The man slammed the two nearly empty mugs on the table and grabbed Tom by the collar. “I want my drinks, you bloody bastard.”

  Shaking his head, Harry stood, hands raised. “I have coin. Leave the lad alone.”

  “I want coin from ‘im,” the man growled.

  “I told you, I don’t have any,” Tom insisted, squirming against the man’s hold. Tom lifted a foot and brought it in between the man’s legs. The would-be assailant’ eyes crossed briefly and bent over, keeping a firm grip on the stable-hand’s collar.

  “Why, you bloody—” The man brought back a fist.

  Harry moved swiftly. He blocked the fist before it could connect with Tom’s face. The hit jarred his arm and send a river of pain through his bones. Teeth gritted, he ignored the pain and thrust a punch up into the man’s gut. Air burst from the man’s lungs in a guttural whoosh and a groan. He released Tom and collapsed to the floor.

  Sighing, Harry pulled out a few pennies from his pocket and chucked it onto the man’s chest. “Here’s your coin. Leave the lad be. He’s not worth your time.”

  Tom and Will gaped at him and with good reason. Harry hadn’t lifted a fist since his younger years.

  “I think I’ll call it an evening, lads.”

  Neither responded as he left. Harry buttoned his jacket against the chill in the air and rubbed a hand across his face. “No more,” he muttered to himself.

  No more spending time in rough pubs. No more of this life. He wanted so much more.

  Chapter Eleven

  A hen pecked at Lilith’s foot and she nudged the creature aside. “No need to get annoyed,” she said to the hen. “I know I do not normally come for your eggs, but I am nice, I promise.”

  Basket slung from one arm, she ducked into the hen house, wrinkling her nose as the feathery environment made her nostrils tickle.

  “You ladies have been busy.” She plucked up at least a dozen eggs. Thankfully there were plenty still to be had as the kitchen had none left and the cook would not be impressed if Lilith took them all.

  She bid the chickens a good day and received another peck at her ankles as punishment for disturbing them. Pleased with her haul, she could not resist a little bounce in her step as she followed the path down past the formal gardens and toward the main road that led out of the estate. She heard a giggle and paused. A smiled tugged at her lips. Pressed against a tree was Catherine and her brother stood over her, a hand to her cheek. Even from here, she could see Thorney’s expression was soft. It was amazing what Catherine had done for her brother. Before they had married, he had been such a stickler for the rules and a bit of a bear to live with at the time. As much as she adored him, she had felt suffocated at times.

  Catherine rose on tiptoes and gave Thorney a kiss. Lilith glanced away and walked on as a pang of envy rippled through her. How nice it must be to have someone to kiss and hold whenever one wished.

  “Yoo hoo.”

  Lilith paused at the sound of Catherine’s voice. Her friend raced toward her, skirts in hand. “Where are you off to?” she asked, breathlessly. “I swear I have not seen you in days.�
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  Lilith repositioned basket on the crock of her arm and nodded in the direction of the village. “I’m taking these to the orphanage. I was going to help bake today and they are sorely in need of food supplies.”

  “Bake?” Catherine arched a red brow. “Since when do you make bake?”

  Lilith lifted a shoulder. Very well so she had never baked before, but she could learn could she not? She was already learning plenty helping with the children there. “I thought I could at least donate some supplies.”

  “You are spending all your time there. I have hardly seen you in days,” Catherine complained. “Thorne is heading to London this afternoon and will be gone for a week.”

  “We will spend some time together soon, I promise. But you know the baby will keep you busy and I must not rely on you for entertainment at all times.”

  Catherine propped hands on hips. “Now I know you do not consider volunteering at the orphanage as entertainment.”

  “I’m not sure. It keeps me busy and I’m finding…well I’m finding I quite like being busy.” She eyed Thorney, who was heading back toward the house. “Did you tell him?”

  Catherine grinned. “I did. I think he nearly fell over in shock. But he’s happy.”

  “Good.” Lilith longed to embrace her friend and would have done had it not been for the eggs balanced on her arm. “You two will make wonderful parents.”

  “And you will make an excellent aunt. I hope the baby will not have to compete with these orphans for your attention,” she teased.

  Lilith shook her head. “You know the baby will be my priority, but I am enjoying feeling useful. I think this is the first time in my life that I ever have.”

  Creases marred Catherine’s brow. “You are useful, Lil. You help me with running the house, and if it was not for you, I would be so bored when Thorne’s away.”

  “That’s a lie. You have your sisters to keep you company.”

  “Yes, but they all argue with me and boss me around. You are the only one who understands me, I’m certain of it.”

  “If you say so.”

  “I do.” Catherine pressed a hand to her chest. “No one understands poor little me,” she said dramatically. “And now my best friend is playing nurse and I have no one. What a life I lead.”

  Lilith giggled. “I would suggest you come to the orphanage but there’s illness there at present and it would not be good for the baby.”

  “I am not so foolish but please do not be like Thorne. He has already told me to go back to bed and I am certain when he returns, he shall ban me from doing anything at all as if I am some delicate flower in danger of wilting.”

  “Well, you do need to rest.”

  Catherine lifted her chin. “I’m feeling quite invigorated actually.”

  “Don’t forget how sick Julia was in the beginning.”

  “Well she is huge. I am certain it’s twins. Double the babies must mean double the sickness so I am sure I will not suffer like she did.”

  “Either way, you must take care of yourself.”

  Catherine rolled her eyes. “I will, I will. Now go have fun baking. Just do not bring any home.”

  “You do not think I can bake?” Lilith perfected an offended look.

  “I think you can do many things, Lil, but baking takes a certain skill.”

  “I shall prove you wrong,” Lilith said with a grin.

  “We shall see. Have fun!”

  Lilith made her way to the orphanage with more determination. Very well, so she had never really baked or cooked or done anything like that before. But then she had not really done any nursing either. As the youngest sibling, she had always been looked after, especially by Thorney. And was she not excellent at looking after the children? Perhaps she would find out she also had a knack for baking.

  Taking the path through the woods, she tried not to think about the recent attack that had happened and how Harry’s sister would insist she needed an escort. The attack had been a silly incident and did not put her in danger, but she could not help feel a little jumpy every time she heard a crack of a twig or a bird fluttering through the branches.

  Basket gripped in both hands, she kept her gaze straight on. There was nothing to be fearful of and she certainly was not going to take the long route around simply because of one incident.

  “Oh.” Her foot snagged. She peered down to see a long root twisting out of the ground like a snake. Shaking her head at herself, she slid her foot out from underneath the root. That had been close. If she had been going much faster, she would have—

  A crack behind her had her heart pounding fiercely. She spun in the direction of the sound and several eggs spilled from her basket, smashing on the ground. As she scrabbled to straighten the basket and prevent any more spillages, her heel caught on the root and she toppled backward. Eggs dropped about her and the world seemed to slow. She heard them crack and saw the vibrant orange spilling about her. A loud thud echoed through her skull as she backward. Pain speared through her mind and body. She struggled to draw a breath while her thoughts clouded into a muddle before fading to darkness.

  Chapter Twelve

  “Lads, get the horses saddled.”

  Harry paused brushing down the gelding to peer around the horse at the stable master. He scowled. The day was growing late. There had to be some kind of emergency to need the horses saddled.

  “What’s happening, Johnson?”

  The man removed his cap, pushed a hand through his sparse gray hair and put the cap back on. “Lady Lilith hasn’t returned home. We need to send out as many men as we can to search. How many horses can go out now?”

  Harry hardly heard the words. His gut tightened to the point of agony. He’d seen Lilith leave for the orphanage this afternoon. Or at least he had assumed that was where she was going. Lilith’s enthusiasm for helping those children had been a source of conversation for many of the servants. Some said the novelty would wear off before long, but Harry wasn’t so sure. She had the sort of sweet temperament that children adored.

  “She’s missing?” The words sounded hollow to him.

  “Yes, damn it. Now how many horses can we ready?”

  Harry thought briefly. “Seven. If you get Tom and Will to finish here, we can send out another two.” He dropped the brush and swiped his hands down his trousers. “You’re sending the footmen out?”

  Johnson nodded. “The kitchen boy is going out, so is Mr. Morris and the gardeners. I can’t find Holmes, but Lady Thornefield is talking of going out herself. If the master were here, you know he would never allow it, so we need to ensure we have enough men to occupy all the saddles.”

  “I’ll go out.”

  “As you will. I need to find the gardener. He better not have bloody gone home already.”

  Harry set Will and Tom to work and saddled his own horse. Several men arrived as he did so, ready to head out and search. The day was growing dull, the sun dropping behind the fields. It was late—too late. Lilith would not ever think of staying away from home so late. Her brother would never allow it and he didn’t think she would do such a thing just because he was away.

  His hands were clammy on the reins. “I’ll head toward the orphanage,” he told Mr. Morris, the valet, who was waiting for Tom to finish readying a horse.

  “Shouldn’t you wait for—”

  Harry didn’t let Morris finish. Johnson would organize the search party properly but he couldn’t wait, not knowing Lilith was out there in the increasing dark, god only knew where.

  His breaths came hard, his pulse raced, he didn’t think his skin could get any hotter. Images of Lilith burned in his mind as he drove the horse hard across the fields toward the woods. Lifeless. Hurt. Kidnapped.

  Had his sister been right? Could she have been attacked? Was there another reason for her disappearance? He’d been avoiding her for days. He shouldn’t have done. What if she had run away? What if she was still upset about her debut and she had no one to talk to?
/>   Damn, if he found her, he would never avoid her again.

  He eased to horse to a trot once they entered the woods. If he’d have stopped to think, he would have grabbed a lantern. The sunlight faded rapidly, leaving the woods dark and forcing him to an even slower pace so he could inspect each darkened nook.

  “Lilith?” he called. His voice echoed out into the empty night and only the hoot of an owl replied. “Lilith? Damn it!”

  If he found her…Damn, if he found her, he wasn’t sure he could ever let her go again. The pain in his chest was agonizing, burning with each breath. His muscles and hands hurt from being bunched up for so long, but he couldn’t let himself relax. Not yet.

  “Lil?” He moved deeper into the woods. What if someone had taken her? What then? “Come on, girl,” he urged the horse. He had to find her. He had no choice.

  A noise made the thump in his chest quicken. He stilled the horse and paused, too aware of his own heavy breaths that seemed to drown out every noise. There was a rustle, then another hoot, then…nothing.

  “Lil?” He waited, keeping the gelding still while his throat tightened. Hell fire, all he wanted was a response. One little noise and he’d find her.

  There. The noise came again. It wasn’t a hoot and it definitely wasn’t birds. It could be a fox he supposed or another creature but something in him told him it wasn’t. He dismounted and slung the reins around a tree branch.

  “Lil? Say something and I’ll find you. Make a noise. Anything. I’ll find you, sweeting, I promise.”

  He headed in the direction of the noise, sweat clinging to his brow. He scanned the darkness. Something pale caught his eye. He peered at it. The darkness made it impossible to make out a shape, but it stood out against the blackness of the ground. A woman’s dress perhaps? He raced over, his heart threatening to burst out of his chest.

  “Lil!” the word escaped him, a rush of anguish and relief. He dropped to his knees beside her and ran his hands up and down her body. She looked up at him through the darkness. Her spectacles were gone and her hair was a tangled mess around her face, but she was alive.