The Wagered Wife

by Wilma Counts

  “I shall see you after the race.” Trevor climbed into the driver’s seat and took the reins and whip that Jack and Mason offered. “Here we go.” He flicked the whip to urge the team to take their position on the course.

  Standing with Melanie, Andrew, and others of her guests, Caitlyn watched nervously as Theo approached.

  “Is everything all right?” she asked.

  “Looks fine.”

  “Is Trevor all right?”

  “He is fine, too. You must not worry about Trevor. Any man who can hold off seven or eight Frenchies single-handedly can surely manage a team of fine carriage horses.”

  She felt herself relaxing at this sally.

  Melanie cut in with, “Seven or eight? Single-handedly? Is that true?”

  “Actually, it is, but I doubt Trevor would thank me for bandying it about.”

  “Oh. They are starting,” Melanie cried.

  With Theo’s and Andrew’s help, the two women moved closer to the rope meant to hold back spectators. Caitlyn saw Harrison standing with some of his cronies several people down the line from her.

  “Ah, Mrs. Jeffries.” He tipped his hat to her. “May the best team win.”

  She nodded acknowledgment and turned her attention to the race. While there were three teams involved in this race, Caitlyn knew the crowd to be truly interested in only two of them—Harrison’s and Atherton’s. The race would consist of three laps around the track.

  Harrison’s blacks were off the mark first, but gradually Trevor maneuvered his vehicle even with theirs. At the beginning of the second lap, the grays shot ahead and there was an excited reaction from the crowd. As some cheered and others groaned, they all watched eagerly as Atherton’s grays established a commanding lead over the other two teams.

  Then, as the leading grays rounded the curve ending the second lap, the crowd noise took on a more subdued tone.

  “What’s he doing?”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Is he forfeiting?” This was a burst of surprised outrage.

  Craning her head to see beyond the much larger men who also strained for a view, Caitlyn saw Trevor pulling hard on the reins. Despite his efforts, sheer momentum kept the team going at a furious pace. However, the grays responded to the driver’s commands, and as they approached the area where Caitlyn stood, she saw with a sinking heart both Harrison’s and the other team pass the team from Jeffries Farms.

  “What’s going on here?” Harrison sounded both curious and angry. He shot a baleful look at Caitlyn.

  She shrugged helplessly even as she tried vainly to see what was going on. Then other snippets of comments registered.

  “Look. The left horse.”

  “Yea. His front leg.”

  “ ’e’s a’ favorin’ it.”

  “Something is definitely wrong with that horse’s foreleg.”

  This word made its way through the crowd as Caitlyn watched Trevor guide the team off the track.

  “Come.” She tugged at Theo’s arm only vaguely aware of the race continuing behind her. Melanie and Andrew followed closely.

  When they reached Trevor and the team, they found a number of people had already gathered. Trevor jumped down from the driver’s seat. Jack and Clarence Tanner stood holding the harness at the team’s heads, calming the animals. Trevor was running his hand over the front legs of the left horse. The horse was skittish, obviously distrustful. Clarence crooned comforting works to it as Trevor continued the examination. Caitlyn moved closer.

  When he lifted the horse’s right foreleg to examine the hoof, Caitlyn saw it even as Trevor said, “Aha. Here’s the problem.” With his finger, he tried to dislodge the stone they all saw.

  “Here.” Someone thrust a small, dull hook into his hand. He popped the stone out with the hook.

  Trevor picked up the stone, looked at it, and handed it to Caitlyn. It was small and sharp and must have hurt like the very devil, she thought. She handed it to Clarence, who drew in a long whistling breath. The horse put its foot down gingerly and looked around as though to say “thank you.”

  Trevor patted him on the neck. “You are all right now, boy.” Then he turned pain-filled eyes to Caitlyn. “I’m sorry, Caitlyn. I am so very sorry. I wanted to do this for you.” He lifted his arms in a helpless gesture.

  Without an instant of hesitation and without consciously considering her actions or their audience—seeing only his need and her need to answer it—she walked into his arms and felt them enfold her tightly.

  “Never mind, darling, never mind.” Her arms around his neck, she held his head close, the endearment had come unplanned, unbidden. “You did the right thing in stopping. It would have been unconscionable to do otherwise.”

  Suddenly aware of others, she stepped back, but Trevor kept one arm around her waist, as though he were reluctant to break the contact.

  Clarence held up the stone for others to see. “Thing like this could do real damage to a horse. Maybe even cripple him permanently. Good job you stopped, sir.”

  The horsemen in the crowd agreed.

  Trevor’s brow wrinkled in consternation. “I’m wondering where this stone came from. All we see here are smooth round pebbles.”

  “That’s right,” someone said in surprise.

  “ ’Twas a good race,” someone else said. “Shame it had to be stopped.”

  “Couldn’t be helped, though,” another replied.

  A large, middle-aged man with a distinguished air about him shouldered his way through the crowd. He handed Trevor a card.

  “My name is Nelson, sir. I represent the Duke and Duchess of Blasingstoke.” The man’s tone was authoritative but hearty.

  “Yes?” Trevor responded:

  “Those are damned fine looking animals. Begging your pardon, ma’am.” Nelson lifted his hat in Caitlyn’s direction. “I like a man who protects his cattle. I am interested in buying this team right now, and I would like to discuss others you may have available now or later.”

  Caitlyn listened quietly as Trevor invited Nelson to Atherton to look over other carriage horses. She caught the eye of Ratcliff, who gave her an encouraging grin. Blasingstoke was known to keep one of the finest stables in the realm.

  Later, Caitlyn and Trevor shared their carriage with Melanie and Andrew on the return to Atherton.

  “I must say,” Melanie observed, “you two seem to have turned a possible disaster into a triumph!”

  “That we have,” Trevor replied, but it was Caitlyn’s gaze he held as he turned to her on the seat next him. “Disaster to triumph,” he said softly as he brought his lips soundly down upon hers. She knew he meant far more than the horse race.

  “Drew, darling,” Melanie asked in an ultra-casual tone, “do you feel we are perhaps a trifle de trop at the moment?”

  The next few days were among the happiest of Caitlyn’s life. Soon all of their guests had departed except for Melanie and her family. Caitlyn and Trevor were rarely out of each other’s sight, though they shared a great many of their daylight hours with the rest of the family.

  Perhaps, Caitlyn mused, she had not captured her husband’s heart as Juliet had Romeo’s. Perhaps that kind of love existed only in stories and never—or rarely—in real life. The truth was, he had made a great personal sacrifice in agreeing to run that race for her and for Jeffries Farms. She could not but be grateful to him. She could not help loving him for the man he was.

  The work schedules and routine training in the stables continued as before—with one exception. The groom Mason had disappeared. In discussing this strange occurrence, Trevor and Caitlyn recalled that, not only was Mason the last person to examine the grays, he had also been working in the next stall when Tom was injured.

  “Do you suppose he deliberately tried to undermine our success?” Caitlyn asked Trevor.

  “He had opportunity and he is gone now, but that hardly constitutes proof.”

  “So—we may never know the truth.” Wanting the matter brought
to a neat, tidy conclusion, Caitlyn was mildly frustrated by their lack of answers.

  “Who hired him?” Trevor asked. “Jack said he was new. How new?”

  “He came to Atherton after we went to town for the season.”

  “But who actually hired him?”

  “I suppose Felkins did, but he would have consulted with Jimmy or Mr. Tanner, I am certain.”

  “Do we know where he came from? Did he have references we could check?” Trevor persisted.

  “References can be forged. I honestly do not know where he came from. Perhaps Mr. Felkins can tell us.”

  When Mr. Felkins presented himself, the steward seemed agitated and embarrassed when asked if he knew anything of Mason.

  “I think I know more now than I did when he arrived. You know what the sages say of hindsight.”

  “I do not understand,” Caitlyn said.

  “He came with proper recommendations and all. Seemed good with the stock, though he kept to himself a lot, the others tell me. After he disappeared, it hit me. Don’t know why it did not occur to me earlier.”

  “What? What hit you?” Caitlyn’s patience was wearing thin.

  “Mason was Mrs. Bassett’s maiden name.”

  “They were related?” Trevor asked. Caitlyn had explained earlier about dismissing the housekeeper and the woman’s seemingly idle threats.

  “Perhaps her threats were not so idle, after all,” Trevor noted. “We could ask the magistrate to question her—for all the good it might do.”

  “That would be difficult,” Felkins said. “She’s gone. Left the area—along with Mason, it seems. Some say she is living with a sister in Sussex. Word is she had a fierce quarrel with her son-in-law. Looks like she will be gone a good long while.”

  “As I said, we may never know the truth,” Caitlyn said.

  “Perhaps we learned something, though,” Trevor said. When Caitlyn and Mr. Felkins stared at him with curiosity, he continued, “We know now to keep a closer watch on new people until they prove themselves.”

  With that, the matter was closed, and Caitlyn concentrated on enjoying the interlude before the journey to Timberly.

  She knew she would remember these days as an idyllic time. The two sets of young parents decided to teach their daughters to ride. Trevor found two small ponies on a neighboring farm, and squeals of delight from the little girls mingled with laughter and advice from their parents.

  Aunt Gertrude joined them on some of their outings and for most meals. Several times, Caitlyn caught the older woman eyeing her nephew and his wife with a satisfied look. One morning as Caitlyn sat in the sun room idly catching up on gossipy items in the newspaper, Aunt Gertrude came in.

  “Caitlyn, my dear, might I have a serious word with you?”

  Caitlyn immediately set aside the newspaper. “What is it?”

  “Nothing to be alarmed about, I assure you.”

  Caitlyn relaxed, but waited with anticipation.

  “You may remember that when I first came to Atherton, I told you I would stay as long as you needed me?”

  “Y-yes . . .” Caitlyn was fearful of where this was leading.

  “Well, it occurs to me that you no longer have need of a chaperon—or a companion. It would appear that you and Trevor have resolved the differences between you. In fact, I would wager that you are quite content now.”

  “Yes. I am. But while I may have little need of a chaperon, I still very much welcome your company.”

  “I know you do, my dear. And I am ever so grateful for that. But I think I should like to spend more time in town.”

  “You would leave us?” Caitlyn could not help the wailing note of despair in her tone.

  “Not permanently, dear. I know you have little interest in spending more time in the city, but I should like to be there for the little season.”

  “You will come back then?”

  “But of course.”

  Caitlyn rose from her chair to sit next to the older woman on a settee and put her arm around her shoulder. “Aunt Gertrude, you must know that you are precious to me. I went without a mother for so many years—and then there you were.”

  “Thank you, love.” Aunt Gertrude had tears in her eyes.

  “Very well,” Caitlyn said in a parody of granting permission. “You may go to town, if you must, but you will promise to come back and I will keep your room always ready for you. You must join us for Christmas, though.”

  “I should love to. Thank you for understanding, Caitlyn dear.”

  “Oh! And you will go to Timberly with us, will you not? I really do not think I could face Trevor’s mother without you by my side.”

  Caitlyn and Trevor had agreed to accompany Melanie and Andrew back to Timberly for the all-important Harvest Festival. Caitlyn dreaded the encounter, but she knew it was important for Trevor to make this visit. There was, of course, the matter of his father’s health. But Caitlyn thought he needed this meeting to achieve a sense of completion to a particularly painful aspect of his life. Now she was begging Aunt Gertrude to see her through yet another crisis.

  “I would not miss it for the world,” the intrepid Lady Gertrude Hermiston said.

  Nineteen

  A caravan of carriages—five in all—set off for Timberly in the southwest section of England. The Jeffries and Sheffield families had two vehicles each, and since Aunt Gertrude planned to proceed to London from Timberly, she traveled in her own coach.

  It was a long, tiring journey, though they planned a leisurely pace with comfortable stops at inns along the way. To relieve the boredom, the occupants of the carriages switched places periodically. They also read aloud from books—mostly novels—they had chosen for the trip.

  Still, there was a good deal of time for conversation, and Caitlyn learned all about the Timberly Harvest Festival one afternoon as she sat comfortably leaning against Trevor across from Melanie and Andrew.

  “It began,” Melanie explained, “as a religious gathering to offer thanks for good crops and it just grew from that.”

  “Needless to say, there is a great deal of tradition about it, too,” Trevor said. “For instance, the earl is expected to bring a sack of his own grain to the mill to be ground.”

  Melanie gave a little laugh. “In former times, it was a huge sack that he was expected to hoist to his shoulders. Nowadays, it is largely symbolic—weighing about ten pounds—a stone or two at most.”

  Trevor went on. “The resulting flour—or some of it—is baked into a loaf that is shared at a huge dinner for the entire estate.”

  “That must be quite a loaf,” Caitlyn observed.

  Melanie smiled. “Oh, it is. But it is merely a symbol for all the other loaves that arrive.”

  Caitlyn could not resist asking, “And does Lord Wyndham provide fishes as well?”

  The others were momentarily puzzled, then hooted with laughter. Trevor gave her a gentle pinch on the arm.

  “Do not be sacrilegious, my dear.”

  She ignored this. “Is there anything else I should know about this grand affair?”

  “Hmm. Well,” Trevor said, “it goes on for three days. It is really like a country fair or market.”

  Melanie added, “There are jugglers and clowns, Gypsy fortune tellers, and acrobats. It truly is great fun.” “And the beer flows freely,” the usually quiet Andrew put in.

  “It culminates with a grand ball in the great hall.” Melanie smiled in anticipatory delight.

  “The great hall?” Caitlyn asked.

  Melanie shot her brother an exasperated look. “Honestly, Trevor, have you told her nothing of your youth, your boyhood home? What do the two of you talk about?—Whoops! Never mind answering that.”

  “Honestly, Melanie,” her brother imitated her tone, “do you ever think before you speak? And you married to a diplomat!”

  Melanie gave him a saucy look, stuck out her tongue quickly, and then focused on Caitlyn. “Timberly was once a castle.”

  “A cast
le?”

  Trevor explained. “A rather modest castle even in its heyday. The moat is long since gone, and the wall that once surrounded the keep and other buildings was used as a quarry for houses and barns on tenant farms.”

  “Sounds fascinating.”

  “As children we loved the place with its strange rooms and passageways.” Melanie leaned forward with childlike excitement. “There is even a ghost in the tower.”

  “Melanie, you know very well it is the wind that makes that strange noise.”

  Melanie ignored Trevor’s interruption. “But it is a friendly ghost. She was a beautiful daughter of the third earl who pined away when her father refused to allow her to wed the man she loved. He died in battle and she never married. Now she wanders the battlements calling her lover’s name.”

  Trevor snorted. “ ’Tis the wind. And there are no battlements.”

  “There once were. Besides, my tale is far more romantic than ‘ ’tis the wind.’ Do you not agree, Caitlyn?”

  “Oh, of course.”

  Caitlyn was grateful for this lighthearted banter. Not only was she learning about what to expect when they arrived, she was gaining further insight into the life experiences that had shaped the man she willingly admitted—if only to herself—that she loved. The discussion also diverted her from worrying about the reception she herself might receive at Timberly. Could she endure for the planned three weeks?

  In the event, the earl received her cordially. His second son, Marcus, was warm but initially somewhat reserved in greeting this sister-in-law he had not met before. However, there was no reservation at all in the greeting between Marcus and Trevor. Although Marcus was some years older, Caitlyn sensed genuine affection between these two brothers—the same regard for each other that characterized Trevor’s friendship with Theo and, to a certain extent, with Andrew.

  If one were to judge another by the respect he or she commanded, Caitlyn thought, then her husband was a very worthy man indeed.

  Gerald was aloof but carefully polite to her. Miranda and the countess were cool in acknowledging her. Melanie had assured her that the earl would ensure a guest’s comfort, and now Caitlyn surmised that the countess and Miranda had had strict orders to behave themselves. Nevertheless, it was clear to Caitlyn that these two women found her presence distasteful.