An Inconvenient Wife

by Constance Hussey

  ~* * *~

  That Anne was still in a state of shock when the coach turned onto the long drive that led to Westhorp was in no way an exaggeration. Between Westcott’s revelation, the opulent coach, and the overwhelming deference paid to them—not to mention the veritable din of “My ladys,” she felt battered and beset by unruly currents beyond her control. Stung by Westcott’s icy demeanor since their conversation the previous day, tired from a sleepless night and the effort to reassure Danielle and Guy, it only needed this to cap the end of a perfectly wretched day—this being the sight of the house, mansion, palace, whatever she chose to call it, ahead. Anne’s strangled laugh earned a sharp look from Maggie and a frightened glance from Danielle. Aware of it, she forced a smile.

  “We have arrived at our destination, I believe. Won’t it be nice to stretch our legs?” Her overly cheerful tone was received with identical frowns. Anne grimaced and turned her attention to the footman letting down the steps. Thank heavens Westcott had spared her from the ordeal of greeting the entire staff on arrival.

  The wind tugged at her hat, and she raised a hand to secure it. Bonnie barked shrilly in Guy’s arms, asking to get down, Danielle hovered behind and Maggie stood glowering at them all. Anne looked around for Westcott. No more Nicholas, even in her mind. For all his faults—and the list was growing—he was not one to shirk his duties. If seeing them into this monstrosity did not count as a duty in his eyes, it certainly did in hers. But her ill thoughts were unmerited. Westcott halted his horse behind the coach, dismounted, and after speaking briefly with Bill Fenton, handed the reins to a groom and walked toward her. A few words dispatched all but two of the footmen, the coach rumbled away, and he held out his arm to Anne.

  “Madam.”

  Anne stared at him for a moment, then clamped her hat down more securely. She laid her hand on his arm and took Danielle’s hand with the other. Her heart thumping in her breast, a sick feeling in her stomach, Anne walked up the long flight of stairs to a wide landing, where a black-clad, solemn-faced butler—so she supposed—waited. He bowed as they drew near, intoned “Lord Westcott, Lady Westcott,” and turned to precede them into the house. Intone, Anne? You have been reading too many gothic novels. She covered a laugh with a cough, and heartened by the ridiculously irrelevant thought, was able to greet the housekeeper in an easy manner, acknowledge the butler, Martin, with a stately nod, and smile at the two housemaids awaiting her orders. What orders, she was not sure, and she swallowed another chuckle. This was idiotic; they were simply people after all, and she released Westcott’s arm.

  “Bonnie needs a run, sir, and Guy as well, I think. Might someone take them outside for a bit?”

  Westcott nodded toward the younger of the footmen.

  “Banks has brothers. Guy will find him agreeable.”

  “The language? Guy has a little English, but….”

  “They will manage.”

  Anne bent to ask Guy if he was willing and was pleased to see him go off without any hesitation. A pleasure instantly erased by Westcott’s next comment.

  “I must go. Mrs. Lawson will show you to your rooms and see to your needs.”

  “Go?” Westcott was leaving? Going off with them scarcely introduced to the household?

  “Yes, I am going to get Sarah. Since it may be somewhat late when we return, introductions can wait until tomorrow.” He moved away as he spoke, his impatience obvious.

  Dismayed by the realization of how much she had depended on his presence, Anne schooled her face into calm acceptance. “Yes, of course.” Her confidence ebbing, it was all she could manage.

  Refusing to watch him leave, Anne turned to the housekeeper, who along with the other staff, appeared keenly interested in the proceedings. Begin as you mean to go on, Mama used to say. However unwanted the position, you are the mistress here. Mrs. Lawson did not appear hostile—more that she reserved judgment. Aware of how important this woman’s approval was, Anne smiled at her and asked quietly, “If you will have someone show us to our rooms? We are all longing for a rest after the journey.”

  “Travel is tiring, my lady,” Mrs. Lawson agreed, starting toward the staircase that swept up in a graceful curve for several floors. “I will take you up myself. We had so little notice that the rooms aren’t aired out as well as I’d like, but then they are seldom used and it’s no more than a bit of dust.”

  “I am sure it will be fine,” Anne murmured. Was the housekeeper annoyed at the short notice? Hard to tell. She and Danielle trailed along behind her, trying not to gawk at the statuary that graced the landing. Tapestries hung on the walls behind and she promised herself she would examine them more closely another time.

  Now she stepped through the door held open by the housekeeper and a gasp escaped her. The huge room was awash with colour, from the palest green of the silk-covered walls to the deep rose of the draperies that hung at the windows. A four- posted bed wore a lemon-yellow canopy of some frothy material Anne didn’t recognize, and the jeweled tones in the paintings so complemented the multi-toned palette that she wondered if the décor had been chosen to emphasize them.

  “How lovely. Such beautiful colours!” They were gorgeous, although it must be like living in a rainbow. An opinion she knew better than to voice. “A marvelous room,” Anne said brightly. Mrs. Lawson beamed as if she were personally responsible. Perhaps she was, or was this remaining from the first Lady Westcott? An uncomfortable thought quickly dispelled by the housekeeper’s next remark.

  “The master had it done over last year. He and Miss Sarah designed it together. Hours, they spent on it. There is a sitting room adjoining.” Mrs. Lawson pointed to a door to one side. “The bathing chamber is opposite.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Lawson. I am looking forward to becoming acquainted with this beautiful house.” She smiled, stripped off her gloves, and dropped her hat on the bed. Danielle still stood by the door, wide-eyed and wary. Anne went to her, and arm around her shoulder, led her into the room.

  “Will you tell me what arrangements have been made for Miss Durant and her brother? They will stay with me tonight, but after that? No, on second thought, you can tell me tomorrow.” Ignoring Mrs. Lawson’s expression of disapproval, Anne asked that a trundle be sent up, along with some hot water and a light meal, and as tactfully as possible she urged the housekeeper away. She refused to send these exhausted and frightened children off to sleep alone in distant rooms.

  Anne glanced at yet another door, which she assumed led to Westcott’s suite. Later she would look to see if it was locked; although, if there was one thing certain in this new life, her husband had no plans to use it. Still not sure how she felt about it, Anne coaxed Danielle into a nightdress and settled her in a chair. The water, trundle and a talkative Guy naturally arrived all at once. A flurry of activity then, but Anne was soon able to dismiss the eager housemaids and once Guy was readied for bed, they enjoyed a quiet meal.

  Too weary even for a story, the children were soon asleep. As she should be, but tired as she was, her mind was too full of confusing impressions and thoughts. She missed Maggie, who had been whisked off to heavens knew where in this huge house. She missed their nightly conversation and Maggie’s pithy opinions. Anne stared at the canopy above her head. The one other time she had slept in a canopied bed was when they were billeted in that drafty castle in Austria. A bed so musty and replete with ominous rustlings in the mattress she had ended up on the floor. You won’t find that here, where everything appears to be perfect, and she drifted off to sleep at last, wondering if she could live up to that standard—or wanted to.

  ~* * *~

  The stricken expression in Anne’s eyes haunted Westcott throughout the drive to Lynton Hall. It was ill done of him, but he felt another hour away from Sarah beyond him. Anne would be fine. She was a competent woman, and she has the children for company, another matter that needed more reflection. What in heaven’s name was he going to do about Danielle and Guy? All very well to claim them as his
wards, but the legalities of it? Wrested from everything familiar, could they adjust to life here? If only Juliette and St. Clair had accompanied him! He would not be a married man and the Durants would be St. Clair’s problem.

  Westcott was still brooding over it while he waited to be announced, a useless formality in his eyes, since he knew this house almost as well as Westhorp, but Jarvis took it as a personal affront if he made his own way. He was shown into a cheerfully appointed room he knew to be Juliette’s parlour and, indeed, she was rising to greet him as he entered.

  “Don’t get up,” Westcott ordered. He walked across the room and gently pushed her back into her chair.

  Juliette looked at him, a playful smile on her lips and her eyes bright with amusement. “Not you, too! St. Clair hovers around me like a mother hen. Pregnancy is not a disease!”

  “Someone needs to watch over you, or I’d find you involved in who-knows-what activities unwise for a woman in your condition.” St. Clair strolled in, a complacent smile on his face, and nodded to Westcott. “Good to see you, Nick, back in one piece, and reasonably, if not entirely, unscathed, I hear.”

  “You could say that, I suppose,” Westcott returned, “since you are not encumbered by a bevy of new dependants.”

  Grinning at the mild sarcasm, St. Clair joined his wife on the settee. “Sarah is having a light supper, so sit a minute. We had your letter, of course, and understand we are to wish you happy.”

  “Rather unexpected,” Juliette murmured.

  Disarmed by her expression of interest and sympathy, Westcott smiled reluctantly and took a seat. “One could say that, too.” He lifted a hand, dropped it and leaned back. “A few minutes, then. I’m anxious to see Sarah. How did she go on?”

  Juliette laughed. “Sarah has enchanted the entire household, and she and St. Clair’s mother are bosom buddies. I think you will find Mother Lynton on your doorstep quite frequently in the future.” She rested her hands on her lap and bent forward. “It has been good for Sarah, Nicholas. The doctor has been in several times and declared her very well.”

  Westcott pushed away a sudden and completely selfish feeling of hurt. You should be pleased and not disgruntled because she got along without you. He buried the churlish thought, looked at the two expectant expressions in front of him, and this time, his smile was warm. “Thank you for your care. Lady Lynton is welcome at any time.” He put his hands together and tapped his fingers against his chin. “Although my household may be somewhat chaotic for a time, with the addition of two children, a wife, and the couple who attend her.”

  St. Clair looked straightly at him. “You wrote of the children and your marriage. Why, Nick? I imagine all was not well with Danielle and her brother, but marriage? You cannot make me believe you fell madly in love with this woman, whoever she is.”

  Westcott grimaced. “Of course I did not ‘fall in love’ as you say. There were circumstances that required it.” He held out a hand to forestall any questions, rose, and walked over to brace one arm on the mantelpiece. “From the beginning then. I arrived in Portugal on schedule and was able to determine the Durants’ address within a day.” He felt his face harden with remembered disgust. “I will tell you at once that I took an immediate dislike to Monsieur Meraux, even before I learned of his infamous behavior.”

  “Meraux is the stepfather?” St. Clair asked.

  “More or less, but not their legal guardian, which is one of the things I need to discuss with you and Lord Strathmere.” He paused to put his thoughts in order. “I first saw them at the market….” He told them most of it, rounding out the tale with his confrontation with Meraux.

  “Infamous indeed! How dreadful for the girl. It’s perfectly understandable that you brought them here,” Juliette said, looking horrified.

  “Despicable,” St. Clair said in a cold voice. “I don’t know anything about the laws in Portugal, but doubt it would be legal to force a child into marriage. It was well done of you, Nick.”

  From the steely glint in his eyes, Westcott knew the earl would like nothing better than to horsewhip the Frenchman, and his mouth tightened in an unspoken agreement. “Nevertheless, it will be a difficult adjustment for those two. They’ve been berated to the point that they are scared of their own shadows.” He hesitated, thinking of Guy’s behavior with his dog. “Although the boy is more outgoing. His sister did her best to shelter him, I believe. That, however, is a problem for another time. Now, I want to see Sarah and take her home.”

  Juliette blinked and threw up her hands. “You wretch! You are going to go off without saying a word about Lady Westcott? We don’t even know her name!”

  Westcott raised his brows. “Her name is Anne. Her father was a high-ranking army officer, and she is fond of children.” He raised a hand to halt the questions he knew were coming. “Call in a few days. I would like you to meet her, and the Durant children. Now, I must get Sarah home before dark. No, don’t get up. I know the way.” This in response to Juliette’s shift forward. St. Clair was already on his feet, and Westcott looked toward him. “You will contact Strathmere? If at all possible, it might be best if he comes here. I intend to make Danielle and Guy my wards and if he can look into the legalities involved, I would appreciate it.”

  He hurried away after a quick “Thank you,” and left before either his host or hostess had a chance to reply. He’d been rude, but St. Clair would understand. He yearned to be home, ensconced in his study with Sarah safely asleep upstairs, alone to think through the past tumultuous week and determine his course for the future. A future he suspected held more than a few problems and Anne not the least of them.

  Chapter Twelve

  Sunlight filtering through a parting of the drapes caught the filmy material above Anne’s head, throwing splashes of yellow onto her bedcover. Akin to being inside a speckled egg, she thought sleepily and smiled at the whimsy. It was an elegant, pretty room, and she would become accustomed to the exuberance. The bed was comfortable and the urge to stay in it almost irresistible. Danielle and Guy still slept and why not enjoy the peaceful moments while she could?

  Refreshed by a good night’s sleep, Anne believed she was ready to face what she suspected might be a trying day. For the hundredth time—at least!—she questioned why she was here, in this opulent house, tied to a man who did not seem to even like her, and committed to mothering three children, none of which were her own.

  Anne buried her face in her pillow. Repeating the litany did not change the answer, the reasons being no less valid now. Instead, she ticked off the positive items in her head. A place to call home, a family, however unusual, some protection from the world. The possibility of making friends, the freedom to enjoy her music. And if you are honest, you wanted the chance to win Westcott’s affection.

  It was not impossible. Improbable perhaps, but she suspected there was more to the viscount than was apparent. Or perhaps not. He could be the cold, unsociable creature he’d often presented so far. In which case, you will still be better off than you were before. Now get up, lazy head, before you lose your nerve and spend the day hiding.

  Anne rolled over and sat up. A robe lay at the bottom of the bed, one of Westcott’s purchases in Southampton, and she leaned forward to run her hand over the silky deep green fabric. It would be remarkably easy to become accustomed to these luxuries. She slipped the elegant garment on and went over to the door that led to the bathing room.

  Too tired to do little more than use the commode last night, Anne paused on the threshold. An alcove on one side housed the commode, and a pedestal sink backed by an ornate mirror, and a dressing table took up one wall. But it was the bath that drew her attention. A ceramic, or perhaps metal, oval encased in a wood surround, it looked large enough to hold three people. She didn’t envy the servants who had to fill it, but that notwithstanding, she was going to request they do so this morning. Thinking about how pleasant it would be, Anne attended to her needs, and went back into the bedchamber.

  Guy
was sitting up and rubbing his eyes when she entered. “Bonjour, Tante Blackwell.”

  “Good day, Guy.” She smiled at him. “I think we will practice some English today. So, good day, Aunt Blackwell.”

  “Good day, Aunt Blackwell,” Guy repeated solemnly. “Good day, Danielle.” He grinned at his sister, who was now also awake and regarding him with interest. “Écoutez. I have l’anglais, oui? Où est Bonnie?”

  He beamed at them, looking very proud of himself. Anne laughed, lifted him to stand on his trundle, and gave him a hug. “Bonnie is with the young man,” she said slowly, and to her delight, Guy understood, although his answer was in French.

  “The man who took us out to play.”

  “Yes. The man who took you out to play.” Anne repeated it several times in English, echoed by Guy, and she saw Danielle mouth the words as well. Language was the first priority, and she vowed to bring the subject up with Westcott as soon as possible. That is, if he even made an appearance today, which she was by no means certain of, but believed even he could not be so unfeeling.

  A scratch on the door, followed by the appearance of Mrs. Lawson and two maids, halted any further brooding about the scarce Lord Westcott. The younger of the maids had what appeared to be some of Danielle and Guy’s clothing over her arm and with a reassuring smile, Anne sent them off with the young woman.

  “Thank you, Mrs. Lawson. I had planned to inquire about the children’s clothing. I also need to dress, but would like to bathe first, if possible. The roads are so dusty.” She smiled at the stern-faced woman and was relieved to see an answering, sympathetic, smile.