The Wrong Bride

by Cameron May

  An angry Barnaby shook his head at the news. “’Tis a shame, accusin’ the lad that way. An’ I didn’t know he had a sickness brought back from the war.”

  “It isn’t permanent, and, that’s another reason, Barnaby, to clear this up to everyone’s satisfaction. If we don’t, Lance would be scarred again, and this problem of Lance’s might come back. He’s had enough of scars; he’s paid his dues and then some.”

  “I’ll do whatever ye ask o’ me.”

  “Thank you. Perhaps it will go easier than I think. But you know this area, and all the people involved are within a day’s carriage ride.” His eyes narrowing, Barnaby nodded.

  Lance’s heart lifted when he saw the carriage returning. Perhaps Winnie had finished early. He hurried from the window in his bedroom down the stairs, but it was only the driver returning with the carriage full of bolts of fabric and other items. Lance grinned. It was so like Winnie, ready to tackle the dark, somber place and fill it with color and music. She hadn’t yet tried the piano, but it wouldn’t be long before music filled the air. Stockdale was there to direct where the new purchases were to go, and Webster was beside him.

  “What news have you of my wife?” Lance asked the driver, who shrugged.

  “Haven’t seen much of her; glad to be back.” He looked at the new master of the house and smiled. “They put me to work, ye know, and the other fellow, Jones the name, drove her about, here and there and everywhere. Did a good bit of travelin’, she did. And the muscles ain’t used to the other kind of work.” He smiled again. “Good eatin’, though. Was free to go to the tavern at nights, and there’s a good bit o’ gossip I may relay to yerself I come across. Seems yer wife got into some kind of scuffle with a gent, the news is. Smacked him a good one, so I heard.”

  Lance sucked in a shocked breath. “Good Lord! Are you certain? It doesn’t sound at all like my docile, reasonable wife.”

  “Nay, not certain. Ye know how gossip is, somethin’ about the gent getting’ a girl into trouble,” he lowered his head and stared into Lance’s eyes, “if ye take me meanin’.”

  The news made Lance scowl and reminded Lance of the business with Blackwater. “Now, that sounds like Winnie. It’s not the first time she’s upbraided a fellow that way. Made him marry the woman, and it worked out the best way possible. Did she tell you when she might be returning?”

  “No, she said nothin’, yer lordship.” He shook his head. “I hope it comes to nothin’, I do.”

  “Why, what do you mean?” Lance asked. The man shrugged.

  “Don’t know. But a lady doesn’t get in a man’s face that way without trouble, don’t ye know?”

  Webster broke in. “You know, that fellow who visited you and just stayed the one night, he was fuming about our lady when he left. I forget his name.”

  “It wasn’t Blackwater, was it?”

  Webster snapped his fingers. “Why, I believe that’s the name alright.”

  Lance looked quickly at the driver. “How would you feel about going back. I’m worried about my wife.”

  “I wouldn’t think anything would happen,” the driver mused, “but they are out a little ways.” He shrugged. “I could go back, but I’d need a change of horses, and a bit of rest, a bite to eat, a nip fer meself first.”

  “I’ll be back,” Lance said. “I’ll just have to pack a few clothes…”

  Stockdale chuckled. “But, that’s what I’m here for.”

  “I keep forgetting, Stockdale. Could you do it for me, or have someone…?”

  Stockdale resumed his usual, sober expression. “It’ll be done right away, your lordship.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  It was late in the day when the carriage neared Greenwood. Lance, turning his head about, could see a light in Barnaby’s cottage and another in the house. As he came closer, the kitchen door opened, and Winnie was framed in its light. “Ah, Winnie,” he whispered, his eyes hurting. She had been gone less than two weeks and Lance couldn’t explain how deeply moving this picture of Winnie was. Again, he wished to be an artist to capture its moment. And, he hadn’t realized until now how much he’d missed her.

  The carriage stopped and Lance was quick to the ground, walking calmly to the door. Winnie watched, a frown on her face as she drew herself up, arms crossed. “Are you alright, Winnie?”

  “Yes, of course. Shouldn’t I be?” She stepped aside for him to enter just as the driver brought Lance’s two suitcases into the kitchen, setting them on the floor. He dipped his head to Winnie and left.

  “I couldn’t be sure—had to see for myself, when I heard the news. Seems there was some confrontation between you and Blackwater.” He’d had many and various visions of the quite large gentleman overcoming the slender young woman in a fit of rage at her effrontery.

  “Blackwater? But I haven’t seen him of late.” In the dim light of the kitchen lamp, her face darkened and firmed. “Though if I did see him, I should like to tell him a thing or two which I’m sure he wouldn’t appreciate.”

  “Hmm. I must have heard wrong. Then, you’ve not gotten into some sort of dust-up with a gentleman of late?”

  “A gentleman, you say? I don’t think so, though I did share my feelings on a certain matter with a fellow.”

  “Well, now. How is one supposed to interpret your statement? Can you not speak more directly?” She turned as Lance went past her to plant himself on the table’s bench. “I heard the strange story of your striking a man, an outrageous act by a lady if true.”

  “Oh, that,” she said quietly, dismissively. “Yes, I did have a rather heated and physical disagreement with one Winston Trueblood.”

  “Winston Trueblood? You must tell me about it, and why on earth you would have smacked him a good one, was the way I heard it.”

  “Oh, dear.” Winnie’s head dropped for a moment before she lifted it again. “The last thing I want to do is to bring shame or dishonor on this house,” she said, “but I simply couldn’t restrain myself.” She went to the stove and brought the warm pot of coffee to the table to place on the trivet, then stepped to the butler’s pantry for a couple of clean cups. “Are you hungry? There might be a bit of stew left in the pot.” When Lance nodded, his eyes following her every move, she left for the pantry to bring bread and a bowl of butter to the table. Winnie filled a dish with the stew, sliced the bread and buttered it, placed it on a dish and set it all before Lance. “I’ll take some to your driver. He must be hungry, too. There’s enough for another dish.” She looked at Lance.

  “I’ll take care of it,” Lance offered, quickly standing. Winnie nodded and thanked him, going to the cupboard for another dish. She watched Lance leave after making another meal.

  “Now, what am I going to do?” Winnie asked aloud, shaken by seeing Lance. The time she’d wanted to think deeply on what her next course might be was gone. Trouble was, Winnie still wasn’t sure of what she wanted. Part of her wanted to stay, and the other part couldn’t see her way clear to doing it. There was just too much awful history between them, though no longer the first part. Winnie was almost over that once she discovered how hard Lance’s struggle had been to stay alive.

  Back all too soon, the fresh outside air clinging to him, the smile on his handsome face making her stomach flutter, he sat back down. “Looks good, Winnie. The driver was grateful you’d considered him. So am I. He did have drink, but that was all.” He produced another smile before digging into his supper. “So, please, Winnie, go ahead, tell me. I’m anxious to hear what you have to say.” Winnie sat down across from him and poured a cup of coffee for herself, adding sugar and cream as usual.

  “Well, I’ve developed a fondness for this place, its part in my history, and I don’t want Greenwood to have any stain attached to it. Even if your servants didn’t or likely wouldn’t spread tales, that wouldn’t stop them from the other end, that of Lord Blackwater. I’d venture to say there have been many conversations within earshot of their people, the Blackwaters. So, I decided on
a little excursion. The first place I stopped was Eustacia Goodwill’s, who knows nearly all there is to know about the people of the town and its environs. Lady Caroline, in general a decent sort, played a little part in her father’s scheme of trying to ensnare a rich husband. You see, I wondered why, with all his supposed wealth, Blackwater kept his house so cold. It turns out he’s not so wealthy as he would put out to the world, is deeply in debt, as Mistress Goodwill can attest to. And, while we were at the Blackwaters’ last year, I happened to visit their library. Lady Caroline found me there one day, said I might take a book home with me. I looked over their offerings carefully, and something puzzled me. Why on earth would anyone have such an obsessive interest in who is who in the aristocratic world? Why there must have been nearly ten books on the subject, and, do you recall when he hinted you might be moving up the ladder, and you laughed?”

  “I do, I do,” Lance replied, nodding, his mouth full of food.

  “Well, he must have had more information than you about Uncle Harry’s more immediate family, though he didn’t pursue the notion of your inheriting Treehill to a great degree, kind of backed off at the end.” Lance nodded again, swallowing his mouthful of food and drinking coffee. He took a deep breath afterward and pronounced himself full. “There might have been a second reason Uncle Harry invited you, though I don’t know it for certain, like, for instance, he could have lost another possible heir, or was about to, and wished to meet you. Of course, that’s all speculation on my part. However, once it was discovered Lady Caroline was pregnant, her father revisited the idea of marrying her off to you.”

  “Did he?”

  “I think he must have. But once I told him you couldn’t be the father….”

  “About that, Winnie. I’m going to ask you straight out—did we,” his voice lowered, “did I, make love to you on that evening? Was I sleepwalking again? I don’t remember it.”

  Her face shuttered, the bright blue eyes fled from his and Winnie looked down at the table. She swallowed, face turning white, then red again in quick succession. “I wouldn’t call it making love, but yes, that is what happened.”

  “I wish I could remember it…”

  “Oh, so do I, Lance.”

  “But not for the same reason. I would apologize, if only I could remember it. But then, even if I could, I wouldn’t apologize. I would have treasured it, Winnie,” he said. “My regret if not like yours. I pray I wasn’t cruel, or crude. You must think me a monster.”

  Winnie’s tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth and it took a moment before she spoke. When she did, her voice was uneven, the words forced from her. “No, Lance, you are not a monster. You were never hurtful, only persistent. In fact, you were quite gentle. I don’t understand it, I may never…”

  “Please don’t hate me for it, Winnie.”

  “I don’t, Lance. It wasn’t you, or not your normal self. It was the you who was wounded inside from the war.”

  “Have here been anymore incidents, Winnie?”

  “No, no, Lance. Not for months now. Not even with all the changes, all the upheaval, people coming and going. This last month was bewildering enough for me; it must have been even more for you. I didn’t think about it, but, since you’ve weathered the latest confusion, perhaps there will be no more spells of sleepwalking.”

  “Let us hope so, Winnie. Let us hope so.” They sat a long time at table not speaking. Finally, a desolate sigh issued from Lance. “You may as well go on with your tale, Winnie.”

  “I asked Frances about it, you know, whether a man could, ah, perform three times in one day.” Her skin was deep pink with embarrassment, and Lance felt the ends of his mouth turn up. “The idea was so preposterous, Frances actually laughed!”

  Lance chuckled. “Ah, Winnie, I can see talking about this is very hard for you.”

  “Yes, I’m afraid it is.” She took a breath of relief that it was over. “Anyway, I visited Lady Windermere, learned where Lady Caroline was staying, and I called on her. Poor thing, Lady Caroline, though I must say her distress makes her no less beautiful. Well, except for the dark circles under the eyes. On the other hand,” Winnie said, picturing Lady Caroline, “they do give her the dramatic air of the disgraced damsel. Lady Caroline is staying with a godmother, a gracious and generous woman, happy to see at least one person who would not hold Lady Caroline in disrepute.” Winnie turned large sorrowful blue eyes up to Lance. “It makes me furious. Why is not the man held to the same standard of scandal? He is equally to blame. But he has a free ride.”

  “Depends on the man, I suppose. It wasn’t true for Barnaby, was it?”

  Winnie shook her head. “But then, Barnaby is the exception that proves the rule.” Lance nodded his head in agreement.

  “I suppose it’s because there is nothing visible to mark the man as blameworthy, though a decent man would do the decent thing.”

  “I think so, too,” Winnie said. “I told Lady Caroline that I should always be her friend, regardless of what happened. Her godmother, Lady Clorinda Meriwether, sat with us, I believe to make sure I didn’t offend Lady Caroline, but she left after a time to see about cakes and tea, and I happened to mention Winston’s name. Why, the face of the poor girl wrenched, and she gave such a great moan of despair, so I figure it must be Winston who left the wretched woman in the fix she’s in.” Winnie blew out a gust of indignant air, while Lance hid a yawn behind a hand. “Makes me almost wish to see him caned, the blackguard.”

  Lance was wondering if Winnie was finished. He was ready for bed. “At any rate, back in town, I happened to meet up with the fellow, and, do you know what?” Lance blinked his eyes to keep them awake and shook his head. “He had the temerity to make a proposal to me.” The blue eyes spitting icy irritation, she went on. “So, in front of Mistress Goodwill, I upbraided him for having betrayed Lady Caroline and leaving her in the state she’s currently in, careful to keep my voice down, of course. And, when he smiled at me, a little frostily I thought, his eyes surveying me in a lecherous manner, I lost my composure and struck him in the face. Yes, I know it was a terrible thing. I should have merely turned away, but I couldn’t be nice to him and pretend I accepted him when he’d been the other half of the problem for Lady Caroline. Could I?”

  “Certainly not,” Lance said at once. “And so like you, Winnie. No one else could be so brave.”

  “It wasn’t bravery. It was a blow for all women who have been left alone, many without resources, to carry and bring a child into the world without help.”

  “Ah, yes, of course I agree.” He frowned. “Earlier you said you’d come here to think. I’m intruding somehow in that, am I not?”

  Winnie sighed. “Well, to be perfectly frank, yes, but it’s just as well. I’ve been thinking of us, and have decided, Lance.” She took a deep breath. “I want to proceed with the divorce.”

  “Do you now?”

  “Well, yes.” She looked at Lance, the atmosphere in the room suddenly changed. His face became rigid and the brown eyes darkened.

  “What will you do? Where will you go?”

  Winnie frowned. “I’m not sure. I believe Mistress Goodwill would take me in, especially if I came with my dowry and salary owed to invest in her business as a partner, perhaps. Now that you are wonderfully rich, it should be no problem for you to pay me, should it?” She moistened dry lips with the tip of a pink tongue as Lance watched.

  “No, I shouldn’t think so,” he said, face relaxing and voice without a trace of his former anger or irritation. “And I believe you could do anything, be a success at whatever project you put your mind to, Winnie.” Her mouth opened at this most wonderful of compliments, and she was about to thank him. “But, why the sudden decision? I thought everything was going along so well with us, you were so decent, so helpful.”

  “Yes, of course I was,” she said reasonably, “and of course I wished to see you through the transition to your new place, in a way, to help smooth your path.”

  “Ho
w very decent of you, Winnie. In the end, I do owe you a great deal, especially your help after I came home from the war. What was it that decided you on your course?”

  Her face flushed again with sudden color, blue eyes wide. “I don’t believe I could continue in the way things were going, pretending as if nothing wrong had occurred between us. You know…” She spread her hands helplessly.

  “Ah, you mean when we had congress when I was in my sleepwalking state.”

  Winnie struggled for breath and finally answered, though she looked down at her clutched hands. “Yes. It seemed so terribly wrong, and it brought shame to me that I participated. I was like, like, I don’t know how to express it, Lance,” she ended lamely.

  “Was it so terrible, then?” Lance asked, a frown settling on his brow.

  Winnie almost choked. “No, it wasn’t as if you were cruel, though you were quite relentless in pursuit of your goal. You were kind enough, but terribly insistent, and I didn’t know what to so.” Tears pricked behind the eyes. “I was a mere thing, that’s all. And you had no recollection of it…”

  “And yet, the last time, when we were twice so engaged…”

  “Please, Lance,” Winnie said huskily, her eyes swinging away from the look in his, “don’t.”

  “Still, in the morning, all was perfectly in order, the room warm, my razor, soap, little towel, all set out for me. It was near perfect.”

  “But, it wasn’t perfect,” Winnie protested, “not for me, or for you.”

  “No, it wasn’t. Poor Winnie,” he tsk’d, shaking his head. Winnie frowned. Was he making fun of her? “As recompense, I could give you this estate, put it in your name. What would you say to that?”

  Winnie was shocked. How easily, how quickly Lance had come up with the idea. “You would do that?” Both eyes and Winnie’s mouth rounded in astonishment. “What an extraordinary thing, Lance. I could go on as always, then, couldn’t I? It would be the most remarkable outcome.”