The Scandalous Saga of the White Lady: A Historical Regency Romance Novel

by Hanna Hamilton

  “You have been?”

  “Venice, Rome, Florence and down along the western coast. It is so beautiful. You cannot imagine.”

  “When did you go?”

  “On my honeymoon.”

  This jolted Maria. “Honeymoon? Are you married?”

  “I was, but my wife died in the birth of my daughter,” he said rather quietly.

  “I had no idea. Why have you not mentioned you had a child before?” This was such a startling revelation and Maria stopped stirring and struggled to assimilate what she had just heard.

  “I guess it never came up.”

  “But Roger, how could we have spent this much time together and you have not mentioned you had a daughter? Are there other children?”

  “No, just Kitty. She was our first.”

  “How long ago was this?”

  “Two years ago. And we had only been married for a year before Terrassa died.”

  Maria completely forgot the jams for the moment. “Oh, Roger, I am so very sorry. Harry never told me.”

  “I do not think he knew. We never talked about much except business when we met at the fairs.”

  “I am so very sorry to hear about your tragedy. I…” Maria was still stunned, but she turned back to stirring the pots. “Then are you looking to marry again?” she asked, not sure if she should have asked or not.

  Roger did not respond immediately but concentrated on attending to his pots. But he finally said, “Someday.”

  That was a very ambiguous answer. Maria did not know how to take that information, but her thinking was interrupted by cook calling out, “Miss Maria, I think the apple and the plum is ready.” Cook turned to the kitchen maids and said, “Bring the clean pots. We are ready to fill them.”

  The maids brought the pots to the table near the stove and Maria stood back as they began to fill each pot and seal it.

  But Maria was still reeling from this new information with which Roger had just hit her over the head. A child? Was she ready to raise someone else’s child?

  Cook came to where Roger was still stirring, and she checked the two pots. “These are ready now too. Miss Maria, we can do the rest if you and Mr. Dillion care to do ought.”

  Maria wiped her hands on her apron. “Very well.” She turned to Roger. “Thank you for your help, Roger. I guess you are free to go. Is Harry expecting you this morning?”

  “I told him I was to spend the morning with you, so he is not looking for me until lunchtime. Might you care to take another walk with me, or do you have other morning chores?”

  Maria hesitated. She always had chores but spending time with Roger was important right now so she said, “I would be happy to walk with you. There is a lovely walk by the stream where Harry fishes. Does that interest you?”

  “It does. Let me get my coat and where shall we meet?”

  “In the entry hall. I need to get my wrap and I will see you there.”

  Roger was waiting for her when she came from her rooms with a shawl around her shoulders. He offered her his arm and they headed toward the stream along a wild hedgerow with small orange and red flowers bursting forth.

  “How does Wiltshire compare to your area? Is it much different?”

  “Perhaps it is a little wilder here. Where I live is much like the countryside surrounding Winchester. I believe we are a little more populated than you are here. Our hedgerows, for example, are more trained and trimmed than these rambunctious hedges with their bird’s nests, wildflowers, nettles and climbing vines.”

  But Maria did not want to just compare their countrysides. “Might I be bold enough to ask you, Roger, why you have come to visit us—besides delivering the cattle.” She looked over at him, knowing she was pushing their boundaries.

  “You speak plain. I like that,” he said, not looking at her, but clasping his hands behind his back and walking steadily forward.

  “Of course, Harry is not only a fellow cattleman, but he has become a friend. He invited me to stay and I found it convenient and a pleasure to accept his offer.”

  “And that is all?”

  “Well… there is you, of course… I very much enjoyed our meeting at the fair and I wanted to get to know you better.”

  “And have you… gotten to know me better?”

  They walked forward in silence for a moment or two, and then Roger said, “I think I shocked you when I told you about my daughter. I should not have left telling you that for so long.”

  He had not answered her question, but she said, “Yes, it did startle me somewhat—but not in a bad way. I was mostly surprised because you had said nothing of her up until then.”

  “Yes, that was a mistake.” But he added nothing more.

  Maria was finding Roger to be very taciturn. He had seemed much more open when they first met at the fair. Now he kept his conversation to the minimum with little elaboration. And she felt she needed to ask, “At one point I felt that you might be developing feelings for me. But recently you appear to pulling back. Am I reading the situation incorrectly?”

  Roger glanced at her and said, “Miss Maria… I ah… I am afraid you have called me out. It is true, I did warm to you initially when we met. But… but…”

  “Ah, the dreaded but… I think I understand without you needing to explain more.”

  “I do like you very much.”

  “But… And if I am completely honest, I too have reservations about you.”

  “Do you? Well…well… well…”

  “You seem to be relieved.”

  He gave her the first smile in quite some time. “Miss Maria, I have to truthfully tell you, I am.”

  “I like you too,” Maria said, “But we seem to lack a certain…” She shrugged. “I cannot find the right word.”

  “Sympathy? Might that be the word you are looking for?”

  “Very close. Harmony, might be another way of putting it. I do not think we are a match—to put it bluntly.”

  He seemed to be greatly relieved. “I quite agree. Now we can relax and just be friends.”

  “Yes, I should like that.”

  Chapter 34

  The road ahead began to decline gradually toward the small village by the sea. Anna had offered to use their carriage as the Stewarts, who were left behind, would need the use of their family’s only carriage.

  On this trip, there was only Dorothy and Christopher, Anna, and Louisa who had taken a liking to Anna and pleaded to go to the seashore with them. Finally, Christopher and Claribel relented and allowed her to accompany them—as long as she was on her very best behavior—to be monitored by Christopher as the final and supreme authority.

  The village was so small it had no name, but it was considered to be a part of Wyke Regis on the southernmost tip of Dorset. The cottage where they would be staying was used by the extended family and owned by one of Christopher’s great aunts.

  The village consisted of a tavern and a few provisional establishments catering to the locals and summer visitors to the seashore. There was no harbor and the few fishing boats were pulled onto the beach. But what particularly drew the crowds were the expansive beaches and dunes where a large variety of seabirds nested.

  “What do you think, Dorothy, dear?” Christopher asked as the carriage drove through the town and headed further out along the coast to where the cottage was located.

  “You mean we are not staying in the village?” she asked.

  “No, we will be staying in the most charming cottage with no one around us as far as one can see.”

  “That sounds horrid. No one?”

  “We will have each other,” Christopher said, trying to sound enthusiastic.

  Dorothy turned to her sister, “What will we do all day long?”

  “I brought a number of books. We can walk on the beach, sunbathe, prepare healthful meals and have a delightful relaxing time. I thought you would enjoy that,” Anna replied.

  Dorothy pouted. “And how long are we to be here?”

&
nbsp; “A week,” he said patting her hand.

  “Oh-h-h… most dreadful.” She turned to her sister. “Oh, please let us go back. I had no idea we would be lost in the middle of nowhere.”

  “My dear,” Anna tried consoling her, “We can always pop into the village for shopping and strolling any time you like.”

  “What about the tavern, might we not stop there for the week?”

  Anna cast a glance at Christopher who shrugged.

  “It will be fine. We can play games in the evening and I know there is a pianoforte. You like, do you not?”

  “And I suppose I am the one expected to play it.” She folded her arms across her chest and took on a defiant attitude.

  “Look, here we are,” he said pointing to the small cottage nestled in a dune with a few scrub pines but no grass, flowers, or shrubs. “You see, it is not too far from the village. Why, I bet we could even walk there if we decided to.”

  Dorothy refused to speak another word for the time being.

  “It is really quite lovely,” Louisa said, trying to console her.

  The carriage drew up to the cottage and they got out as the driver unloaded the luggage and began taking it inside.

  The cottage was indeed small. There were only two bedrooms—one allocated to Dorothy and Anna and the other was to be used by Christopher and Louisa—Louisa insisting on the bed with Christopher relegated to a lumpy sofa. The poor coachman was going to have to sleep in the carriage.

  After they were settled in and their luggage was unpacked, they gathered in the tiny sitting room and sat around the single table that served as a card table, dinner table, breakfast table and anything else that could be thought of that did not amount to standing or lying down.

  “How about a walk on the beach?” Christopher announced brightly.

  Dorothy stood at the window and observed, “It looks like rain.”

  Anna joined her and had to agree it did. But Christopher was not to be deterred and said, “Well, it is probably only sea fog. It will burn off before you know it.”

  “Huh…” Dorothy said, plopping herself down in one of the straight-backed chairs.

  “I will go with you,” Louisa said, taking her brother’s hand.

  “Are you certain you will not join us?” Christopher asked, giving a desperate last try to convince Dorothy.

  “Not for all the wealth of Solomon.”

  “You two go. I will stay with my sister,” Anna said. “We will be fine. I think I will look in the kitchen for tea and we can have a cup when you get back.”

  “But they will not have cream,” Dorothy pointed out.

  And with a longing glance at his fiancé, Christopher and Louisa headed out the door, across the dune, and onto the beach.

  While Dorothy pouted, Anna explored the kitchen. It was fairly well stocked with the basics and besides finding the tea, she found a number of items that could make a supper. She then began constructing a list of supplies they could buy when then went back to the village. She became so caught up in her inventory of the kitchen she did not notice that it had, indeed, begun to rain. Almost immediately Christopher and Louisa scampered back, soaked through, and Dorothy just gloated.

  But the rain did not stop. In fact, it rained almost continually for the next six days. It would look like it was about to clear up. The four of them would stand at the windows, and wait, but the sun failed to break through. It never did. It just rained and rained and rained.

  At one point, they attempted a trip into the village, but the carriage got bogged down in wet sand and could not move. They had to run back to the cottage, leaving the poor coachman to try and free the wheels.

  Finally, it was the morning they were to return to the Stewart’s and they awoke to a clear and bright day. It was stunning. Dorothy, who had grouched the entire time they were confined to the house, broke into tears. “Why? Why now?” she wailed. “It is so unfair. I could just die-e-e.”

  If the truth were known—they were all grumpy. Six days of rain confined to a small cottage had soured everyone—even the sanguine Anna.

  Fortunately, the ride back to the Stewart’s was uneventful, although almost no one spoke more than a few words during the entire trip.

  The four returned travelers spent the next day alone in their rooms—except for Louisa, who easily shook off the trauma of the rain, and was chatting breezily with Florence and Thomas from the moment she returned.

  Anna, after gaining some equilibrium, sought out her sister later in the afternoon.

  “How are you faring?” she asked Dorothy as she entered her room.

  “Somewhat better. But what a horror that was. Please, remind me never to go to the seashore again.”

  “Oh, my dear, that was a fluke. It is not always like that. It is mostly quite wonderful.”

  “If you say so. But how would you know? This was your first trip to the shore too.”

  That set them both laughing, for the first time since they left the Stewart’s house on their journey to the shore.

  Anna sat in a chair opposite her sister. “You know we are to be heading home quite soon. I really think we need to meet with Christopher’s family. There are details that need to be discussed about the marriage—that is, if you still want to marry him.”

  “I could wring his neck, but, yes, I still love him.”

  “I think that pretty well describes most marriages,” Anna added.

  “How cynical you are, dearest,” Dorothy said with a smile.

  “I think realistic best fits the description. You were too young to remember some of mother and father’s epic brawls.”

  “Really?” Dorothy asked, a little shocked.

  “In any case, we really need to think about what we want to ask, know about, and address, when we meet with Christopher and his parents.”

  Dorothy sighed. “Oh, Anna, everything is always so much more complicated than one imagines it will be.”

  The meeting with the parents had been scheduled for after lunch on the day before Anna and Dorothy were to return to Wiltshire. Of all the participants, Christopher seemed to be the most nervous.

  Theodore sat at his desk in his study with his wife next to him in a straight-backed chair. Christopher stood with his back to the window behind the desk and to the side. Anna and Dorothy sat in chairs in front of the desk.

  “I expect the first order of business should be setting the date and place for the wedding,” Theodore said as he lifted his monocle to his eye and studied his notes. Then he looked up at the sisters and asked, “Any thoughts from your end?”

  “I think it should be at Repington Hall,” Dorothy said. “It is quite large and can accommodate a great many more guests than your house can. Also, it is the tradition for the bride’s family to pay for the wedding and, as such, we will be organizing the wedding. It will be much easier if we can do it at home, rather than from a long distance.”

  Theodore turned to his wife. “Do you have any objections to that, my sweet?”

  “Takes a load off my back if they do the work. But would we be able to bring our whole family to the wedding?” she asked the sisters.

  “By whole family do you mean your immediate family or would there be others?” Anna asked.

  Claribel roared with laughter. “Oh, no my dear. We mean the whole family. Aunts, uncles, grandparents, nieces, nephews—the whole lot.”

  “And how many would that be?” Dorothy asked apprehensively.

  Claribel turned to her husband. “Oh, I do not know—twenty… thirty. Somewhere in that neighborhood.”

  Anna spoke up. “We would be happy to accommodate all your family. As we have said, we have a large house.”

  “Excellent,” Theodore said, “And the date?”

  Again Anna spoke, “It would have to be after the mourning period which would be approximately the beginning of next year. And a mid-winter wedding is not so pleasant, so I am suggesting perhaps next May? It is a lovely time of year in Wiltshire.”
r />   Dorothy did not appear to like that. “So late? That is almost a year away.”

  “But my dear, you cannot possibly consider marrying before the end of the six-month mourning period.”

  “Very well.”

  “And that should give us plenty of time to plan the wedding. There will be a lot to do to make the wedding as splendid as I know you would want.”