A Suitable Husband

by Fenella Miller

  He must have been unaware she had a visitor. His head snapped round and he flushed. ‘I apologize, Lady Hepworth, I did not realize Mrs Haverstock had company.’

  Harriet offered her hand and he duly bowed over it. ‘I will leave you now, my love, but I will come again tomorrow to see how you do. Lord Hepworth does not like to be kept waiting, Captain, so please excuse me.’

  Puzzled, Sarah watched her go. Hepworth was the most obliging man alive and would happily wait all day for the woman he adored.

  ‘Mrs Haverstock? How can I be of service?’

  Flustered, Sarah glanced upwards and her eyes locked with his. A flood of warmth surged through her and this time it was not caused by embarrassment. She dragged her eyes away and studied her clenched hands. He broke the charged silence by noisily moving the vacated chair further away creating a safe space between them.

  ‘Captain Mayhew,’ Sarah stopped and laughed. ‘This is ridiculous; I cannot continue to address you so formally. We are not long acquainted, but I believe we are already friends. I would like to call you Oliver and I wish you to address me as Sarah.’

  ‘If that is your wish, then it shall be so.’ He crossed his legs, his tight breeches emphasising his muscular strength. He was not unaware of her interest and relaxed further. Things were moving on far more quickly and smoothly than he could ever have anticipated. A frightened woman with a son in danger would naturally turn to a man who could protect them.

  ‘Oliver, I have discovered some new and vital information about my attacker.’

  Instantly alert he replied, ‘Tell me, what have you found out?’

  ‘Haverstock is not our original name; it appears my grand father-in-law adopted his mother’s maiden name when he travelled to India, he wished to sever all connection to his past.’

  ‘So the attempts must originate from there? Yes, I think you could be right. However it does not explain why someone wishes you harm, and until we know your grandfather’s family name we are no further forward.’

  Sarah thumped her fists against the chair. ‘It’s so vexing! Your inquiries will be wasted if we are searching for information about Haverstocks.’

  ‘If we investigate them we will eventually discover whom we are looking for.’

  Sarah frowned. ‘I do not see how?’ She thought for a moment. ‘Of course! We check the marriages and eventually we will find a daughter who produced a son called Richard who went to live in India.’

  ‘You realize it will take time to find the name we want. Haverstock is not a common name, but I know of two families, apart from yours, who are so called. Each one will have to be investigated and until we have the name we seek, you and Edward will have to remain safe inside Rowley Court.’

  ‘Can we not go out of doors at all?’

  ‘No, it would be safer not to. When my riflemen arrive and are in position then it will be permissible for you to walk in the walled gardens and go out in the closed the carriage.’

  ‘I see. When do expect these men of yours?’

  He shrugged. ‘Word has been sent; they should start arriving anytime from the week’s end. It depends how far they have to travel.’

  ‘Of course it does! Good heavens, Oliver, I am not a simpleton. Please do not treat me as one.’

  The conversation was over. Oliver stood up, all stiff formality. ‘Edward will be waiting for me, so if you will excuse me, ma’am.’ He didn’t wait for her reply; he spun on his heel and strode out. The door closed behind him with a decided bang.

  Sarah sank back into her chair. Whatever had possessed her to speak so rudely? It had been so long since she had spoken intimately with a gentleman maybe her social skills had deserted her. If only her head did not ache so abominably, it made it hard to organise her thoughts.

  ‘Beth, I am feeling unwell, could you assist me to my bed.’

  It was a relief to settle her head against the pillows and close her eyes. She heard Beth drawing the heavy damask curtains across the windows and the harsh sunlight was shut out. In the dimness her pain began to ease and she drifted away into a light doze. She roused enough to swallow a bowl of broth at supper time then fell into a deep refreshing sleep.

  ***

  The sound of horses and raised male voices woke her early next morning. She tried moving her head from side to side before attempting to sit up. Pleased it no longer made her feel sick and dizzy she sat up and swung her feet to the floor.

  She was halfway to the door before she remembered she was in her night rail. Exasperated she retraced her steps, grabbed her dressing-gown and thrust her arms impatiently into the sleeves. Satisfied she was respectably covered if someone happened to glance up and saw her at the window, Sarah hurried into her private sitting-room. This had a window seat on which she could sit while she spied through the window.

  Her eyes widened at the scene outside her front door. It was scarcely dawn and her drive was full of red coated, fully armed, militiamen. Lord Hepworth must have sent for them to investigate her attempted murder. Why had he done so, did he not trust Oliver and his men to find the person responsible?

  A moment’s doubt flickered in her mind. Was she right to put her life, and Edward’s, in his hands? After all she knew only what his references had told her, and such things, as anyone could tell you, could be forged. She hadn’t bothered to verify their accuracy. Now she wondered if she had been naive not to have done so.

  She retreated from the window seat and went over to her escritoire. She would remedy that omission straightaway. Her sister’s husband was well-connected in the ton, he would know if any scandal attached to the captain’s name.

  Sarah now regretted her impulsive move to allow him the use of her first name. She could not understand why she had done so; she was by nature such a cautious person. Returning to the window she watched the captain of the militia dismount and hand the reins of his huge bay horse to his lieutenant. She knew he would wish to speak with her, so walked to the mantel and tugged the bell. Beth would be startled to receive so early a summons but she could not get dressed unaided.

  Sarah went back to the window and saw the militia captain in deep conversation with the person who was ostensibly her son’s tutor, but was now, quite obviously, the man in command of the operation.

  She pursed her lips and her eyes glinted dangerously. Captain Oliver Mayhew was taking too much upon himself; she was the mistress here and it appeared she must, once again, clarify her position. She had quite forgotten she had given him that authority; her memory, which up to now had always been impressive, was, like her emotions, behaving quite uncharacteristically.

  Sarah flounced like a spoilt child back to her room where Beth, her cap a trifle askew, waited.

  ‘I wish to get dressed, Beth. I will wear my rose morning-gown and the matching slippers.’ The dress was far too formal for a dawn meeting with the militia captain but it was a favourite.

  The heart-shaped neckline and small sleeves emphasized her neat bust and the fashionable high waist with freely flowing skirts were, to Sarah’s mind, mercifully free of frills and ruches. She believed the cut of a gown was what gave it elegance, not unnecessary adornment at hem and neck.

  ‘I will wear a corset this morning.’ If her mistress had announced she was to wash her own shift Beth could not have been more astonished, for Sarah had not worn one since before her confinement seven years ago. ‘And we must remove this hideous bandage. I cannot continue to have my hair hanging down like a hoyden.’

  ‘I could braid it for you, madam, and hide the bandage under a pretty lace cap, that way you can leave the dressing in place.’

  Sarah was about to refuse then decided a cap might give her the air of authority she needed. ‘Very well, I will wear one, but only until this can be removed.’ She touched the back of the bandage with her fingertips and winced.‘Please be careful
how you arrange my hair, my head is still very painful.’

  ‘I’m not surprised, madam. You should have seen the hole the bullet made in your cloak; it’s a miracle you weren’t killed.’

  Beth stepped back and gave the dainty lace headgear a final adjustment. ‘There, madam, you look a picture. I don’t know why you hate them so, they suit you very well.’

  Sarah risked a glance into the glass and her eyes widened. The hideous bandage had vanished under the frill of the delicate cap which was edged with Brussels lace. Her hair, neatly braided, fell nearly to her waist. She smiled. ‘Thank you, Beth, you have worked wonders. One would not suspect I had anything other than my head underneath this.’

  ‘And the dress looks lovely too, madam. That shade of pink has always suited you.’

  Sarah hurried from the room her skirts swirling round her feet revealing a trim ankle encased in delicate pink hosiery. She could hear masculine voices in the hall. Good heavens, the wretched man had invited the militia captain inside. What next? Would he invite him to break his fast in her dining-room?

  Red flags of colour stained her cheeks as she reached the head of the stairs. Both men, one of medium height and straw blonde hair, the other tall and dark, watched a vision of loveliness descend towards them. Oliver could not tear his eyes away. How could he ever have thought this woman plain? It was only then he recognised the danger signals, the flashing eyes and tell-tale flush. What burr had she lodged under her saddle this time? He hid his smile as he waited to be told how he had offended.

  Sarah paused, a corset made breathing difficult, and she feared she was going to have no air to speak. She remained on the penultimate step and hazel eyes met grey on level terms. ‘Captain Mayhew, please be so kind as to introduce me to your guest.’ The words were honeyed but their meaning was quite clear.

  Oliver coloured, his amusement turned to anger in an instant. ‘Forgive me, madam, this is Captain Andrews, come to search for your attackers.’

  ‘Your servant, ma’am.’ The young man bowed deeply and clicked his heels impressively like a Prussian.

  ‘Captain Andrews,’ she inclined her head an inch, and waited. The two men shifted uncomfortably knowing they had breached protocol but unsure how to make amends. Sarah took pity on them. ‘Did Lord Hepworth send for you, Captain Andrews? I am surprised the attack on me warranted a full company of militia to investigate it.’

  ‘Lord Hepworth has been concerned about several reports of strangers in the vicinity recently, madam. He is worried there could be insurgents gathering here and rick-burning and rioting could follow.’

  Sarah opened her mouth to say the people in her demesne were far too comfortable to riot but bit her tongue. If Hepworth had enlisted the help of this troop under false pretences then she would not be the one to point it out.

  ‘Well, whatever the reason, I am glad you are here, Captain Andrews. You can billet your company in the barns at Home Farm; they are warm and dry and you can use the adjacent field for the horses. There is sufficient hay stored there for palliasses and fodder.’

  ‘Thank you, Mrs Haverstock; we are here for one night only. Our presence should be enough to discourage further men from travelling to this area. We intend to search your grounds and the surrounding land today. I report to Lord Hepworth and Captain Mayhew tomorrow and then we move on.’

  Her eyes narrowed. ‘You will report to me before you leave, Captain Andrews, not my son’s tutor.’ She noticed Oliver clench his fists and instantly regretted her words.

  The militia captain bowed again, but heel clicking was noticeably absent. ‘I will bid you good day, Mrs Haverstock.’ In the vacuum left by his departure neither spoke. She was too embarrassed and Oliver too angry.

  They heard the soldiers remount and clatter back down the drive, the noise loud in the freezing silence of the hall. Sarah swallowed and lifted her chin defiantly. This was her house, her domain, she would not be cowed into silence by anyone. ‘Captain Mayhew….’ she faltered as he turned and raked her with a look of such bloodcurdling disdain her defiance shrivelled and she took an involuntary step back, raising a hand, whether to placate him or ward him off she was not sure.

  ‘Yes, madam?’ Two words but so imbued with scorn she was unable to respond. She lowered her eyes, but could still feel the weight of his dislike boring into her. This would not do — he was her employee, not her husband. Husband? Where had that notion sprung from?

  Sarah so discomfited by this ridiculous idea she inadvertently spoke what she was thinking. ‘You are not my husband, sir, and have no right to stand in judgement. I am mistress here and you are in my employ.’ Her hands flew to her mouth as though to push her intemperate words back with they belonged. She waited for the storm to break. To her astonishment the man, who had been glaring at her from across the hall, his feet set apart and his head thrust forward, stepped back, a look of utter stupefaction on his face.

  His aggressive stance relaxed and to her chagrin he threw back his head and roared with laughter. The unexpected sound ricocheted around the spacious hall and when he spluttered to a halt his brimming eyes met hers. Her mouth curved reluctantly into a reciprocating smile.

  He extended his hand and she stepped forward and placed it in his. She looked down at their hands, hers small and pale being held gently in his calloused, battle hardened clasp. The drumming of her heart drowned out the words that flickered in her brain. Shyly she raised her head and her limbs weakened at the intensity of his gaze. She forgot where she was and a pulsing heat surged up her arm and around her veins.

  She tried to breathe deeply, to steady herself, but strangely her ribs refused to expand and her head began to swim. She pitched forward, into his waiting arms, in a dead faint.

  Chapter Six

  The pungent smell of heart-shorn being wafted under her nose roused Sarah. She found herself lying on her bed and, thankfully, able to breathe easily once more.

  Beth removed the smelling salts. ‘There, there, madam, you swooned right away. It was the corset — you’re not used to its restriction and couldn’t catch your breath.’

  ‘I am feeling well now, thank you.’ Sarah glanced nervously round her chamber, half expecting the captain to be there still.

  ‘You should have heard his language, madam, it fair made my ears burn, I can tell you.’

  Sarah was suddenly wide awake. ‘Swearing? At you, Beth, surely not?’

  Beth grinned. ‘No, madam, of course not, he’s a true gentleman. The abuse was directed at your corset. ‘An infernal contraption,’ was one of the more polite terms he used.’

  Sarah felt the blood race from her toes to her crown, turning her scarlet with mortification. ‘Beth, how could he possibly know I was wearing a corset?’

  ‘Oh madam, you mistake my meaning. Sir felt the garment when he caught you and realized why you had fainted. He behaved exactly as he ought. He placed you on the bed and left immediately; I, of course, attended to you.’

  ‘You can consign that garment to the rubbish, Beth; I will not be wearing it again.’ Then her sense of the ridiculous surfaced. ‘He is quite right to call it, ‘‘an infernal contraption.’’ She giggled.

  ‘The poor man has been obliged to stagger up the stairs twice, in as many days, with me in his arms.’

  ‘Not stagger, madam, he carried you as though you were no more than thistle-down.’ Beth sighed at the thought. ‘He’s a fine figure of a man; I’ve always liked a military gentleman.’

  ‘Thank you, Beth, that will do. I cannot languish here; I have things to attend to.’

  ‘Yes, madam.’ Suitably chastened Beth completed her duties in silence. Re-clothed in another of her morning-gowns, this one of spotted, pale-green muslin, Sarah was ready to see the man to whom she must make her apologies. What was it about him that made her behave so totally out of character? ‘I will not wear a cap,
please leave my hair as it is.’

  ***

  In the schoolroom Edward shifted miserably on his chair, again. Exasperated Oliver reprimanded his charge. ‘Edward, what is the matter? You have done nothing but fidget this past half hour.’

  ‘I want to see my mama, she’s not well, sir. Please can I go down and see her?’

  Oliver’s heart turned over at the piteous expression on the little boy’s face. How could he have been so thoughtless? ‘Of course you can, lad. I’m sorry I didn’t suggest it myself. But she is not unwell, she merely swooned.’ He hesitated then decided to tell the boy the whole. ‘Do you know what a corset is, Edward?’

  The boy stared at him blankly, and then nodded. ‘Well, your mother had pulled hers too tight and could not breathe properly, so that’s why she fainted.’

  Edward grinned. ‘I didn’t know Mama wore such things, sir. She never has before.’

  ‘And I doubt she will again, Edward. Now, run along and see for yourself that all is well. I will allow you thirty minutes for the visit.’

  ‘Yes, sir, thank you, sir.’ Edward’s chair crashed to the floor in his eagerness and Oliver smiled ruefully; he doubted he would ever deserve such devotion from a child. Sarah was a lucky woman.

  ***

  ‘Mama, Mama, I’ve come to see you.’ Sarah looked up as her son erupted into the library, his face flushed from running downstairs in search of her. She stood up and opened her arms and he ran into them. She held him close and smoothed his hair, loving the silky feel beneath her fingers.

  ‘I hope you have been given permission to be here, Edward?’

  ‘Yes, I’ve half an hour to visit. Can I go out on the terrace to watch the soldiers?’

  Sarah hesitated and then smiled; he could hardly be in danger with a park full of militiamen. ‘Yes, darling, but stay where I can see you.’ She returned to her letter, this was proving to be more difficult than she had anticipated. Asking her sister, Elspeth, to investigate the captain, but not allowing her to suspect she was having second thoughts about his appointment, was decidedly difficult.