Somehow, however, that did not make Francis feel any better.
HE WAS STILL WORRIED WHEN, a few days later, Gleason came to see him.
"I am somewhat concerned, Sir Francis."
Francis's expression deepened in severity.
"Sit down, Gleason, and explain."
I have seen someone watching Miss Merriweather."
The scowl etched Francis' face. "A woman?"
"No, Sir Francis. A man. I cannot be certain, but I may have seen him before."
"Damnation, Gleason! Describe him."
"He was the same size, same build, as your old friend, Charles Wilmington. However, Wilmington would never dress that way. His hat hid his hair and came down low, over his eyes, so I could not tell the color of either. That is all I can say to describe him. I wish I could remember where I have seen him before."
Francis stood up, pacing. "Charles, by the way, was never my friend. Our fathers were, resulting in Charles being thrown in with Geoffrey and me. Continue."
"When he saw me following Miss Merriweather, he disappeared.
"Is she at Carlotta's now?"
"No. Elias is following her this afternoon, sir. She and Miss Carlotta are shopping today. My wife is ill, sir, or I would be there—but I needed to come and tell you—"
Francis stopped pacing. "No, Gleason. Do not worry—but tell me about Kathleen."
"She is having contractions, sir. But the baby is not very active at all. Mollie, from Lord Wellington's estate is with her. She has her heart set on this baby. It pains me to think we might lose it."
"Go to her, then. Elias will take care of this situation. You need to be with your wife."
Gleason bowed, and Francis halted him. "One question only, Gleason. Have you seen the woman at all since you have been chaperoning?"
"Only the one time I mentioned it, Sir Francis. She saw me, as well. I stared at her, and she turned. I have not seen her since."
Francis nodded. "Go to Kathleen, Gleason. But after Gleason left, Francis resumed his pacing.
Miss Constance was passing by the entrance to the great room, but seeing Francis' agitation, she entered.
"Sir Francis? I saw Gleason leaving. Is there anything I can attend to?"
He turned toward her. "Kathleen may be trying to deliver early, Miss Constance. We might need to provide someone to watch the children and food for the family for a few days. Mollie, from Pembroke, is with her at present. Gleason has gone home for a while."
"I shall take care of it. Is there anything else that I need to do?"
"Come into the library, please?"
Once there, Miss Constance shut the door behind her and turned toward him, waiting.
"Miss Constance, you know who Elva Grimm is?" He sat down at his desk, frowning."
"I do." Her gaze narrowed. "I believe you know my opinion of her. Why?"
Francis nodded, his face severe. "She has been following Merriweather in town. That is why I am having Gleason follow her. But he has also seen another person keeping an eye on her."
Her brow rose.
"Gleason believes him to resemble Charles in size and build."
Miss Constance's breath whooshed out of her. "Then you must marry her. Immediately. It is the only way to protect her." She stared at him and blinked. "I know it is not my place to say that. My opinions as a housekeeper are of no consequence—"
"Your opinions are of great consequence, Miss Constance." Francis was standing now. "I value your thoughts on this matter. I have spoken to Merrie on the possibility once. I shall do so again. You are right. The only way I can protect her is under my roof."
IT WOULD BE their last shopping day together. Carlotta was about to be married. David was to be home the following Saturday, and the big day was scheduled for Sunday afternoon. They would be gone on their honeymoon for a month, before coming home to make their home in Winchester.
"Hurry, Merrie! You seem quite preoccupied this afternoon. What are you thinking?"
Merrie sighed. "I think I am becoming paranoid, Lottie. And I have not seen Gleason since this morning."
"Are you still worried about Mrs. Grimm? I do not know what to think. My mother says the rumors about her are unfounded."
"That is what my mother thinks, as well."
"But, Merrie," Carlotta was leaning closer, and her voice was even quieter, now. "I have spotted a man, this afternoon, watching us. Three times, I have seen his eyes following us as we went in and out of stores. He looks slightly familiar, but I cannot place him for certain."
"Merrie nodded. "I have seen him too, Lottie. It worries me that Gleason is not here."
Carlotta glanced toward the town clock and then the General Store, across the street. "Perhaps we should wait at Mr. Greene's, until the groom comes to pick us up. We should feel safer there."
Merrie nodded. The street, however, was still busy, and they were forced to pick their way across, through the wagons.
"Run, Merrie!" Carlotta had made her way to the walk, calling, but a carriage had pulled up between them and slowed. Merrie looked up and gasped. The same man she had seen earlier had opened the door, and she realized, with terror, that he was reaching for her.
She screamed and ran, retreating across the street, as another man hurried toward her.
She was trapped!
She turned, trying to escape, and arms suddenly picked her up off the ground. She opened her mouth and screamed bloody murder.
"Shh, Merrie—it is me—Francis!" A welcome, familiar face above hers caused her struggling to cease. Francis' face was calming, but a second later, he shouted, from above her head, "Elias! After him!"
Merrie turned, as she spotted the second man she had run from, jumping onto his horse and attempting to make his way through the crowded street. She looked to see if the carriage was still there.
It had completely disappeared.
Merrie stood, eyes closed, in Francis' arms, trying to calm. When she opened them again, they were outside the General Store. She had been completely unaware that he had carried her across the street.
"They—" she swallowed. "They—almost had me, Francis. Who were they?"
"The second man you ran from was Elias, Merrie Lynne. He works for me. He has been guarding the house at night while you slept; that is why you have not seen him. You would have been safe with him. The one in the carriage—I do not know. He certainly looked familiar. But—I cannot place him."
She tilted her head upward. "Where was Gleason, then?"
"His wife went into early labor, Merrie. Elias took over for him."
But Carlotta had run out of the General Store and threw her arms about both of them.
"Oh, Merrie. I was so afraid for you! Francis—thank you for being here—we were trying to get across to Mr. Greene's where we felt we would be safe—"
"Lottie, did you recognize the man who tried to take her?" Francis demanded.
Carlotta shook her head. "I could not see him from this side of the carriage. I did see the driver, but I do not know him. Francis, a man had been watching us this afternoon, while we shopped."
"Bring the ladies inside, Francis." Mr. Greene had stepped outside. "Out of the commotion." Sheriff Kidd is on his way. I sent someone for him."
IT WAS GETTING LATE. Elias had returned, extremely apologetic. He had been unable to catch up with the unmarked carriage, due to all the people crowding the street.
By the time Giles Kidd had managed to get statements from them and had sent Henson Andrews, his chief deputy, outside to interview all of the witnesses, Merrie was sure she wanted to go home and sleep forever. Even Aunt Syl's library cot sounded inviting. Her parents had not yet been informed of the incident. Merrie was glad. She preferred them not to worry. Francis stood up.
Henson popped his head in as he finished outside, his eyes lighting on Merrie.
"Merriweather? Are you all right? From what everyone outside says, you are extremely lucky you were not taken this afternoon."
&
nbsp; "Henson!" Merrie reached up, throwing her arms around his neck. "I have missed you!"
He laughed. "I would say that I have missed you, too, little troublemaker, but it has been fairly peaceful in the past six years. I did see you at the ball, but you were a bit—preoccupied." He chuckled, nodding toward Francis. "Spare the daggers, Francis. I was her stand-in big brother and rescuer, until she went away to school—and I am more than happy for you to take over the job, now that she is back."
Francis laughed, and Henson looked back down toward Merrie. "But tell me—are you truly all right?"
"I am, Henson. Francis saved me. But you, sir, make me sound like a brat."
A brow rose, and he looked toward Francis. "Yes, well…" He grinned. "Francis. I think it is time you took 'the brat' home."
"I shall, Henson. As of now. You can see them at the Abbott house, if you need anything else. Carlotta, what time was your groom supposed to come for you?"
"Four-thirty, I am sorry."
Francis glanced up at the clock in the store. "It is five-thirty. The Abbotts will worry. When the groom finally shows up and realizes you are gone, perhaps he will learn to be on time, for a change."
Merrie scowled up at him. "But it is not Lottie's fault."
He looked down at Carlotta. "I realize that. I did not mean to indicate it was, Lottie. Forgive me. Let us go. Jackson is waiting with the carriage." He nodded toward Henson and Giles as he escorted them out. Elias fell in behind the carriage.
"Merriweather, I hate to do this to you. But it is necessary to move the wedding date up."
"To when, Francis?"
"My preference is tomorrow. I shall not demand that. I would be willing to wait until a week from Sunday, Merrie Lynne. But no later."
"I…do not think Liliana is finished with my dress, sir."
"I shall speak to her. This is Wednesday. I cannot continue to protect you from a distance, my little innocent. And it is not fair for Lottie's parents to be charged with the responsibility. It also puts them—and Lottie—in danger. Today's attempt was blatant. It can only get worse from here. I shall send over more protection to their house. And then I shall come back and see your parents."
"Ooh…" Merrie's voice contained obvious disappointment, to which Francis responded quickly.
"You were not going to tell them?" His brow knit, as his eyes narrowed.
"I had…hoped not to, sir."
"Merriweather Lynne Thatcher!" His voice was stern. "They must be informed. And quickly."
But that evening, the groom had returned, without either of the two young ladies he was to have brought home. When he arrived back at the stable with the carriage and went into the house, Carlotta's father smelled alcohol on him, and he fired the man.
Never again would he be trusted with the daughter of Mr. Abbott.
ON THE DAY of Carlotta's wedding, Francis escorted Merrie and her mother to Winchester to be present. It had been a beautiful ceremony, and Lottie had hugged her closely as they parted.
"We shall only be gone a month, Merrie. But remember what I said. You are welcome any time!"
"I shall give you a little time to yourself, Lottie, before I come to make myself at home!"
But Francis had raised a brow at that. Over Merrie's head, he had grinned. "We shall see about that. Merrie can let you know. And right now, I would insist on coming as well, to guard her. Just a notice, Lottie."
Lottie had only laughed, as she waved goodbye to them both.
CHAPTER 4
OCTOBER, 1849
M errie Thatcher became Merriweather Lynne Adams on Sunday, October 14, 1849, standing in front of Father Michael, at St. Mary's church. Her mother cried through the entire ceremony. "Happy tears," she insisted. Her father beamed. He had told her more than once that he had known Francis all his life and felt he was going to be the perfect husband for her. But on the way down the aisle, he had whispered in her ear, "You know, little Merriebelle, if you are unhappy, you can always come back home."
Merrie had smiled up at him and squeezed his arm. "I shall be very happy, Papa. I know it."
Francis, giving her a wink and a grin, had put her fears at ease. The kiss he had given her at the end had been embarrassingly intimate, and when she regained her breath, her cheeks were a deep shade of scarlet.
"And how are you, Mrs. Adams?" he had whispered in her ear.
"I am wonderful, Mr. Adams." She had grinned back.
The day was beautiful. They had moved the reception outside, instead of having it in the kitchen, so that they could enjoy the crisp cool air and the trees, in many shades of color now.
Her parents had provided the cake and the punch afterward, but the staff from the Adams' house had come to serve it.
Merrie had not known what to think about them. Francis had brought her out to meet them all one day. But Merrie's home had only two servants, and she was extremely nervous about meeting the Adams' house staff. They seemed polite and reserved. Her lady's maid, Liliana, she had loved instantly. Liliana had made her wedding dress, and when it was finished, Merrie had never seen anything so beautiful. The rest of the staff, however, seemed distant and cold.
She was certain they hated her.
Now, however, as she greeted the people from town who had known her since she was tiny, she found herself relaxed. Francis had her tucked under his arm, holding her close. After the line had gone through, and most of the guests had departed, she hugged her parents goodbye and promised to see them in a few days.
"I shall be back!" she whispered to Francis, who winked at her.
Constance Murphy, the housekeeper, was barking orders at her staff, as they worked quickly to wash things up and pack them. She was the one person on the staff who frightened Merrie the most. But quietly, Merrie drew a deep breath and approached.
"Miss Constance?" she said, in a quiet voice.
Constance stood straight, putting both hands on her hips, and turned, to see where the small voice was coming from. Looking down, she finally saw Merrie, frowning.
"Yes, child."
Merrie gulped. The woman was nothing if not fierce.
"Is—there anything I can do to help, Miss Constance? Wash or dry dishes or…" she trailed off, as the housekeeper raised an eyebrow.
"Did you not just get married, child?"
Merrie backed up a step. "Yes ma'am, but I just thought…" Her cheeks flushed, and she looked away. When she looked up, Constance was leaning back, studying her.
"I do believe you are quite serious, child." She turned toward the door, bellowing, "Francis!"
Merrie's eyes grew large. She stood, unmoving, until Francis popped his head in the door.
"You called, Miss Constance?"
The woman turned back toward the counter. "Take your little bride home before she takes over my kitchen."
Merrie's face became scarlet. "Oh, but I wasn't—I didn't mean—" She paused when Francis chuckled and lifted her off her feet, carrying her through the door to the hall and up the steps. The light carriage, with white horses at the front, was adorned with tulle and white ribbon and looked formal today. A moment later, he had put her into it. "Jackson? Home, if you please." He leaned back and put an arm around her, pulling her close.
"I knew it. She hates me," she said, frowning.
"Miss Constance? She does not hate you, my little brat. I actually think she likes you."
Her eyes widened, her expression incredulous.
"You will get accustomed to her, Merrie. Give it time."
"She calls me child."
He grinned. "Miss Constance did not call me 'Francis' until I hit thirty. Do not feel bad, my darling girl."
But she was not convinced, and he leaned over, saying softly, "You have more to think about right now, my little innocent, than Miss Constance teasing you. And…" He was grinning down at her. "She was the one who insisted that we bring Bailey home and fix him a special place in the barn so that he would be warm. He has fit right in with the barn cats. You
may see him whenever you like." He was grinning down at her expression. "Yes, she did. Ask her if you do not believe me."
"I believe you, sir," she said softly.
Francis leaned down, speaking in a low voice, "But now, you have other things to be concerned with, my little innocent bride." When she met his eyes, her own uncertain, he added, "Because I am taking you home, to my bed. Now."
She looked up, her face pale. "Oh… Now?"
He had lifted her down from the carriage and was carrying her upstairs, when he saw her expression of apprehension.
"Do not be afraid, my little sweetheart. I shall be very gentle with you." But when her eyes did not change, he lifted her chin. "Tell me what troubles you, Merrie?" he said, his eyes searching hers.
This time she searched his, as well.
"I do not know what to do, Francis…and I do not wish you to be—" She gulped. "Disappointed."
He chuckled softly and kissed her forehead. "I shall not be disappointed, my little darling. And I shall show you exactly what to do."
FRANCIS KEPT his word and proceeded very slowly, very gently with her, from the time he set her down inside his bedroom and began slowly unbuttoning the tiny pearl buttons on the back of her gown, till the time when he gently removed the last of her lacy silk undergarments. With each piece he removed, he began kissing the newly exposed flesh. She was trembling.
"So beautiful…" he whispered softly, turning her to face him.
He framed her small face in his hands, looking down into her eyes, and gently took her mouth, before lifting her from her feet and laying her down on the bed.
"Merrie," he whispered into her mouth. "You shall beg me to take you before we are through."
But her wide eyes told him clearly that she did not believe him. Francis chuckled, as he took both her wrists in his hands and pinned them above her head, kissing first her face, then her neck, nipping and kissing his way downward. Turning her onto her belly, he followed in much the same way, but very, very slowly.
He listened as her breathing became uneven, but when he turned her back over and instructed her to close her eyes and relax, she obeyed.
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