A Suitable Husband

by Fenella Miller

  ‘With only Beth and Edward inside it will be considerably more comfortable. Did the luggage leave this morning?’

  ‘It did. I thought we should depart early and break for refreshments at noon. Does that meet with your approval?’

  Sarah nodded. ‘Do you mean my kind of early or yours? Dawn or breakfast time?’

  ‘Seven o’clock will be soon enough.’

  ***

  The two-day journey passed uneventfully but Sarah was relieved to see the imposing gates of Westover appear in front of them. Oliver reined in and waited for the carriage to pull up beside him. Edward, as usual, was hanging out of the window.

  ‘Are we there, Papa? Are these the gates of Westover?’

  ‘They are, Edward. We should be there in a little while.’

  Sarah joined her son at the window. ‘Can you see the house, Oliver?’

  Oliver stood in his stirrups. ‘No, the drive curves round and the trees obscure the view. But I can see the sea, Edward.’ Edward lent so far out in his excitement that he almost pitched onto the road. ‘Would you like to ride with me, son? Then you can see everything.’

  With Edward perched securely on the pommel Oliver urged Trojan forward. Sarah could hear her son exclaiming in delight at the vista presented to him. None of them had known Lord Fitzwilliam’s estates had the Channel coast for one of its boundaries. It would be Sarah’s first experience of the seaside too.

  Maybe this excursion would be more like a holiday than a penance. She smiled at Beth. ‘It will be an experience to walk along a beach. I wonder what Rags will make of it?’

  ‘He’s a good swimmer, madam, so I expect he’ll love it. Shall I tidy your hair, and put on your bonnet, for we are almost there?’

  The fetching chip-straw bonnet, liberally festooned with artificial cherries and tied with a matching ribbon, was replaced on Sarah’s head. Beth smoothed out the cherry red travelling dress and handed Sarah her gloves.

  ‘I hope Lord Fitzwilliam is not a stickler for propriety, Beth. It’s far too hot to be wearing gloves all the time.’

  The carriage was travelling downhill and Sarah felt the coachman apply the brakes. Holding her bonnet, she peered out of the window.

  ‘My word! I had no idea!’ She noticed Oliver had reined in again and was staring with equal astonishment.

  Edward broke the awed silence. ‘It’s like a palace, Papa. I can see hundreds and hundreds of windows.’ The sunlight glinted on the panes making the long grey-stone, crenellated building, shimmer like a fairy-tale castle.

  Oliver shook his head. He obviously understood her stupefaction. They had known Edward was heir to a fortune but nothing had prepared them for the grandeur of Westover.

  Sarah subsided onto the seat her stomach agitated. Lord Fitzwilliam must be even more powerful than either of them had realized. She feared even Oliver would not be able to stop him taking Edward away if that was what he wanted to do.

  The nearer they got, the more impressive the house appeared. Their approach had been noticed and a bevy of liveried footmen awaited their arrival. An august, black suited individual, presumably the butler, stepped forward to greet them.

  ‘Captain and Mrs Mayhew, and Master Edward Fitzwilliam, Lord Fitzwilliam wishes to welcome you to his home.’ The man nodded and flicked his hand. The footmen flanking the long marble steps bowed in unison.

  Oliver took her icy fingers and pulled them through his arm. Edward, stuck dumb by the sheer size and opulence of his surroundings, hung onto his father’s other hand. United they followed the butler upstairs and through the opened double doors.

  Inside, the walls soared to an ornate carved gallery reached by a pair of massive curved marble staircases. The housekeeper, and an army of maids, curtsied. The butler spoke, his deep voice sounding hollow. ‘Mason will conduct you to your rooms. Lord Fitzwilliam will receive you, in his private quarters, in one hour.’

  The accommodation allocated to them was equally as luxurious and spacious as the entrance hall. Sarah gazed round in awe. ‘This room is as large as a ballroom! If I am obliged to leave my bed at night I am sure I will get lost crossing the floor.’

  Oliver had chosen to follow her in instead of allowing the housekeeper to direct him to his own chamber. This breach of protocol had been accompanied by raised eyebrows and looks of scorn which they both ignored.

  ‘This is not the main bedchamber. God knows how large that is! Shall we go and see?’ Oliver pointed to the communicating door.

  Edward was now enjoying the novelty. The astonishing fact all this splendour and extravagance was to be his one-day was quite beyond his comprehension, so he was ignoring it. ‘Shall I sleep down here with you and Papa?’

  ‘I expect you will be in the nursery, but no doubt when Sally finds us she will be able to tell you the arrangements.’

  ‘I hope they have lots of toys.’ He stopped and his face crumpled. ‘I don’t want to be on my own here, it’s too big, Mama.’

  Oliver knelt beside him. ‘Then you shall not. There’s room for a small army in that bed; your mother will not even notice you’re there.’

  Edward was too young to consider such an arrangement odd, but Sarah knew Sally and Beth might wonder why she preferred to sleep with her son and not her new husband.

  The door, hidden in the wooden panelling, opened into a similar, but even grander, master bedroom. They surveyed the acres of highly polished wooden floor, on which several large Persian carpets sat. The bed was so tall a flight of steps was supplied at the foot and so wide Oliver would be able to sleep from edge to edge with room to spare on either side.

  ‘Can we all sleep in this room together, Mama? Then Papa won’t be lonely on his own.’

  ‘I snore so loudly, Edward, I would keep you both awake. It’s better for you both to sleep in a different room.’ Oliver quirked an eyebrow at Sarah and she blushed but returned his smile.

  Edward ran across to investigate the array of closets that faced them. ‘Your clothes are in here, Papa, but there is still room for hundreds more garments.’

  Sarah could hear her abigail moving about next-door and was reminded she needed to change. ‘Come, Edward, we have little time before we are to meet Lord Fitzwilliam. We have to tidy ourselves. It is important we make a favourable impression.’

  When the summons came, all three were ready. Edward was the only member of the family eager to follow the footman sent to escort them. Sarah instinctively reached out and Oliver took her shaking hand in his. Whatever happened Sarah knew they were as one in their determination to protect Edward.

  They were led down stairs and along numerous wide passageways until the footman halted. He rapped on a door and it was opened by a tall, thin man, dressed entirely in black. ‘Captain and Mrs Mayhew, and Master Edward Fitzwilliam, my lord.’

  An elderly man, impeccably attired in a navy superfine coat, elaborate cravat, plain buff waistcoat and knee breeches, greeted them with a beaming smile. ‘Welcome, welcome, to Westover. I am so pleased you have come to visit me here. As you can see I am no longer able to travel far, or I would have come to Rowley Court myself.

  Sarah noticed Lord Fitzwilliam was leaning on two silver topped sticks. She instantly decided he was not fierce and autocratic after all, but merely an old gentleman, eager to meet his heir. She curtsied gracefully, and Edward and Oliver bowed. Oliver took her hand and led them forward.

  ‘Captain Oliver Mayhew, at your service, my lord; May I present my wife, Sarah and son, Edward, to you?’

  ‘Delighted to meet you, Mrs Mayhew, Captain. Forgive my rudeness, but if I release my grip on my canes I shall fall flat on my face.’

  Edward giggled. ‘I’m Edward and I’m very pleased to meet you.’ He walked up and gazed inquiringly into the earl’s face. ‘Can you walk with those, my lord? I expect it’s very hard.’r />
  Lord Fitzwilliam smiled. ‘It is indeed, Edward, which is why I prefer to travel in my bath chair.’ Expertly balanced on his sticks, he nodded towards a wicker contraption, standing close by, which had two wheels to the rear and one in front. Edward was immediately fascinated and rushed over to investigate this strange vehicle.

  ‘Look, Papa, it’s a chair with wheels, for adults to ride in.’

  Oliver joined his son. ‘It’s indeed ingenious, son.’ He placed his hand on Edward’s shoulder and gently squeezed it. Edward looked up and recognised the warning there. Instantly he stepped back and bowed again.

  ‘I’m sorry, my lord. I’m forgetting my manners.’

  The earl’s valet, a dark-visaged and strangely silent man, stepped forward and with the ease of long practice, guided his master to a high chair strongly reminiscent of a throne. Once seated it was impossible to tell Lord Fitzwilliam was lame.

  ‘Come and talk to me, Edward. I want to hear all about your life at Rowley Court. When do you reach your eighth birthday? Is it soon?’

  Sarah and Oliver were ignored so they retreated to a sofa, where they would not be overheard.

  ‘I like him, Oliver. It is a shame he is infirm. He and Edward appear to be getting on; I am beginning to think I have worried unduly.’

  Oliver studied the old man and small boy, deep in conversation. ‘I hope you’re correct, Sarah, but it’s too early to be certain. I must admit he appears friendly, but I’ll reserve judgement for the moment.’

  ‘It’s hard to believe Edward will one day, own all this. To run an estate of this size must be a difficult and time-consuming job.’

  ‘I imagine it must be.’ He paused, his expression serious. ‘I think we will have to consider allowing Edward to spend part of the year here, he will need to learn about his inheritance.’

  ‘I realize that, but not yet, when he’s older, perhaps twelve or thirteen, will be soon enough.’

  He smiled. ‘I’m glad you understand, my love.We need not think about this now.’

  ***

  Two days passed in a whirl of activity aimed solely at pleasing Edward. Sarah especially enjoyed the trips to the beach. They had been warned not to venture out onto the flat sands when the tide was rising, because it came in so fast it would easy to be cut off and drown.

  ‘Can I go out and see the wreck before we go, Mamma?’ Edward asked.

  ‘Perhaps, darling, but remember the tide is treacherous. You must not go alone. Papa will take you if he believes it to be safe.’

  On the third day she was strolling with Oliver were strolling together on the manicured lawn. To the uninitiated observer they were a perfect, happy couple. She wished it was so.

  ‘Now you and Edward are settled here I intend going to London for a few days to visit our lawyers. I would like to read those papers you signed, if you’ve no objection, Sarah?’

  She shook her head. ‘No, of course not. I am sure there’s nothing sinister in the fact that Mr Digby took them back to town with him. When are you planning to leave?’

  ‘Before breakfast tomorrow. At least when I’m gone you’ll not have to endure the ridiculous rigmarole at dinner-time.’

  ‘Thank heavens for that! The food is appalling, quite cold, and so much of it! And all the scraping and unnecessary bowing that accompanies it. I don’t suppose it will be any more palatable when served on a tray in my rooms but at least I can leave it without being made to feel ungrateful.’

  ‘I wonder if Lord Fitzwilliam fares any better in his chambers? Perhaps at his advanced age, food’s of no importance to him.’

  ‘There is one thing I would like you to do, Oliver, before you depart tomorrow. Could you speak very firmly to Edward about the danger of going down to the beach unaccompanied? I fear he is determined to slip away with Jack and investigate the wreck on the sands.’

  ‘I will speak to both of them. They will be left in no doubt what will happen if they dare to disobey.’

  Sarah laid a hand on his arm. ‘I think this is the one and only time that I can agree that you may use the threat of corporal punishment. It is better to be scared of being beaten than for Edward to risk his life.’

  ‘Are you quite sure about this, Sarah. You understand if he disobeys I’ll be obliged to carry out my threat?’

  ‘There will be no need to do that. Edward might sometimes consider ignoring my instructions but he would never disobey you.’

  ***

  Oliver left Westover at dawn with the intention of staying in Town for several days. He had omitted to tell Sarah he was hoping to continue his investigations into the assassination attempts. He believed he was released from his earlier promise to Sarah not to follow up the information about Richard Fitzwilliam, now there was no longer the need to keep Lord Fitzwilliam in ignorance of Edward’s existence.

  Chapter Nineteen

  ‘Why can’t we go and explore the wreck, Mama, the tide is so far are out you can’t see the sea anymore.’

  ‘Remember what Lord Fitzwilliam, and Papa, told you, Edward. The water comes in so fast you could not out run it if you were caught out there. I’m sorry but the answer must be no. Shall we go for ride instead?’

  Edward stared morosely at the distant wreck. ‘Will Papa take me when he comes back from town?’

  ‘You will have to ask him, Edward. It is possible. Now, are we going to ride or not?’

  ‘Ride. Can Jack come with us?’

  Sarah was relieved she had persuaded her son not to venture out onto the sands to investigate the sunken ship. The fact the wreck was totally submerged at high tide, made it all the more alluring to a small inquisitive boy.

  ***

  The next few days slipped by. Edward spent an hour each morning talking to Lord Fitzwilliam and being instructed on his future duties. The army of indoor and outdoor servants catered to their every whim and now that she was free to take her meals with Edward in the privacy of her sitting-room Sarah was beginning to enjoy her enforced stay. To her surprise she was missing Oliver and was almost counting the hours to his return.

  On the fifth day following her husband’s departure she and Edward took up, what had become their usual place, on the terrace. It was here Edward studied his lessons and recited his Latin verbs. The school rooms at Westover were too hot and stuffy for comfortable learning whilst the weather was so warm.

  Sarah handed Edward his slate and they were ready to begin. Rags was flopped on the flagstones enjoying the shade. He had discovered a warren of unsuspecting rabbits occupied the dunes above the beach and spent most of his time endeavouring to catch them, and when that failed, trying to dig them out of their holes.

  ‘Shall I copy out the sentences I studied last night?’

  Sarah was about to answer when a faint noise from above made her glance upwards. Her eyes widened as she watched one of the enormous carved pottery urns that decorated the balconies, begin to rock.

  She screamed a warning and, diving forward, took Edward with her in a flurry of skirts. The falling masonry rained down on her back but her body protected Edward from injury. She lay, rigid with fear, anticipating a crushing weight which would put paid to her existence and praying desperately that whatever the outcome her son would be unharmed.

  The explosion of pottery and stones took place three feet to the right of her sending further debris flying into the choking dust that surrounded her. Coughing and spluttering, but uninjured, Sarah pulled herself to a sitting position to gaze in amazement at the chaos which surrounded them.

  ‘Are you hurt anywhere, Edward?’

  Edward rubbed a dirty hand across his face. ‘You squashed all my breath out, Mama, but I’m alright now.’ Then his grin changed to concern. ‘You’re bleeding. There’s blood all over your back and your dress is all torn.’

  Only then did
Sarah become aware of the pain from the dozens of small lacerations caused by the falling stones. She winced as she moved her shoulders. ‘I’m sure it’s nothing serious, my love. I have a few small cuts; that’s all. When we go in Beth will be able to clean them up for me.’

  Edward then remembered his pet. He scrambled up, scattering stones and dust, to look where the dog had been lying. The space was empty. ‘Rags isn’t hurt. But where’s he gone, Mama? Do you think he’s run away because he’s scared?’

  Sarah was concerned the accident appeared not to have attracted any attention. Surely, even in such a vast establishment, someone must have seen what happened? Why was no one coming to their assistance?

  Then she heard Rags barking angrily and raised voices from inside. She was starting to feel rather weak and needed assistance if she was not to frighten Edward again by swooning right away. ‘Call Rags, darling, he is stopping someone from coming out to help us.’

  Edward shouted for his dog and the animal backed out of the open terrace doors leading to the library, still growling and with his hackles up. Symonds, the earl’s manservant, emerged, his face pale, followed by two anxious parlour-maids and a footman.

  ‘Mrs Mayhew, I have sent for your own girl to help you and also for the doctor. I cannot understand how such a thing could have happened. It’s a miracle you were not both seriously hurt.’

  Edward grabbed the rope looped round his dog’s neck. ‘Be quite boy. Mr Symonds has come to help us. Bad dog, you must not growl at him.’

  Sarah had managed to pull herself upright and was leaning, precariously, against the wall. She was unable to answer. Her horrified gaze was riveted to the smashed remains of the huge pot. The chair, which Edward had moments before been sitting on was invisible under the rubble. If she had not looked up and been given those precious seconds to knock him out of danger he would be lying dead, his body crushed under the wicked shards.