Wellchester Triplets Series: A Historical Regency Romance Box Set

by Laura Locke

  Mrs. Rutherford studied her guest, noting the vivid coloring and the tasteful way in which she dressed herself. As much as she disliked positive opinions, visually, she could find nothing at fault for the girl. “Very well, Melody it is. You may call me Mrs. Rutherford.”

  Melody nodded. “Of course.”

  Mrs. Rutherford cleared her throat and began her rehearsed oratory. “As you may or may not know, my son, Conner, and I are new to the village. Until recently, we lived much further south where the summers could be uncomfortably hot and the winters we stayed indoors before our fires. I am not prepared for the cold windy moors I find here. I understand you are a seamstress.” Melody nodded but Abigail needed no confirmation, so she simply continued to speak. “I would like to commission you for a gown, and if you do well at it, it may be the first of several. I hope you’ve brought a tape with which to measure me.”

  Melody nodded again. As hopeful as she had been that this was a social call, she had been realistic and brought her materials with her.

  Mrs. Rutherford was no longer is interested in the proprieties of conversation, for she stood and moved to the center of the room, pointing her arms upward and outward. “Well? Get your things and let’s begin with measurements.”

  The tea was yet to be brought into the room so Melanie nodded and opened her small velvet bag, removing her measuring tape, a few sheets of paper in a slim pencil. She put away her potential daughter-in-law face and brought out her business attitude. “Yes, of course, now if you’ll stand facing the window, Mrs. Rutherford, permit me to begin measuring and then we can discuss the fabric and type of down you wish.”

  Melody had almost completed what she needed when there was a sound from the direction of the front door. She heard the footfalls on the oak flooring and then there was a tap on the carved trim of the parlor doorway.

  “Excuse me, Mother, but I wanted to say hello to Melody.”

  Melody spun around at the sound of his voice and broke into a beautiful smile. “Hello again, I see you were successful in finding a housekeeper.”

  “Yes, I cannot thank you enough for the recommendation. Mrs. Pinkerton is working out quite well, is she not, Mother?”

  Mrs. Rutherford made a noncommittal grunt and returned to her throne.

  “Mother, I thought you had intended to invite Melody to tea? I had hoped there might be a few biscuits left and that I could join you. Has tea already been cleared?”

  Mrs. Rutherford flushed somewhat and stuttered, “No, no, we’ve not yet begun. Mrs. Pinkerton!” she shrieked overly loudly. “Please prepare a tea for us.”

  It was obvious that she had had no intention of serving tea at all. That had simply been her means to an end. Conner understood likewise and was frowning at the intimation. He turned and strode through the doorway toward the kitchen. Melody overheard him say to Mrs. Pinkerton, “Would you mind including sandwiches as well as the biscuits, Mrs. Pinkerton?”

  “My son forgets his manners,” Mrs. Rutherford commented dryly. Melody said nothing but noted how the woman readily blamed her son for anything she found distasteful.

  Conner soon rejoined them and once everyone was seated, he turned towards Melody, ignoring his mother. His censorship did not go unnoticed and Melody felt a bit uncomfortable in the tension of the room. “And how are you today, Mistress Wellchester?” he inquired.

  “I am very well, and happy to have been invited this afternoon.”

  “Even though it would seem, the purpose of your invitation may have been a bit confusing, my mother is an efficient woman and having heard so many good things about your dressmaking, I am quite sure her manners were temporarily forgotten in her haste to secure your services. Might I also add that you look quite fetching. Is the gown you are wearing of your own creation?”

  Melody marveled at the way he put his mother in her place and yet salvaged an excuse for her rudeness. She was so relieved that he was nothing at all like his mother. “Indeed, I did make it.”

  “Mother, will you look at that? I can hardly wait to see what she creates for you. She will most certainly make you the envy of all your friends.”

  “Stop it, Conner. The girl understands what is going on here, even if you choose to cover it up. Mrs. Pinkerton! Are you coming with that or not?” she shouted in an overly loud voice. At that very moment Mrs. Pinkerton rolled the cart through the arched doorway into the parlor and began setting things up for tea. Abigail cunningly said, “Mrs. Pinkerton, my hand is a bit sore from holding it at an uncomfortable angle as Melody measured me for my gown. I wonder, Melody, if you would not mind pouring?”

  “Of course not,” Melody responded and sat forward as Mrs. Pinkerton set up the tea things before her on the table. It was obvious to everyone in the room that Mrs. Rutherford was auditioning Melody’s skills as a hostess. She seemed intent upon finding a flaw. Melody smiled inwardly, unruffled by Mrs. Rutherford’s behavior. She knew Mrs. Rutherford would become an awesome foe, were she driven in that direction. Melody would be much happier to count her as a good customer, if for no other reason than to use the older woman’s ego against herself.

  Melody poured tea flawlessly, her delicate movements endearing her to Mrs. Rutherford’s prize—her son.

  Chapter 9

  Melody fell into her craft, making Mrs. Rutherford’s gown, with an almost desperate concentration. Sylvia looked over Melody’s stooped head at Ira and he nodded. They were both concerned. There was a good deal at stake.

  It was obvious that it was not Mrs. Rutherford who was encouraging this flurry of activity; it was her son. Melody was desperately trying to make a good impression and yet it was not known whether he returned the interest whatsoever. Melody was setting herself up for heartbreak, if he did not, and inasmuch as her sewing was involved, it could put her off that which she loved most in bitterness.

  Then there was the formidable Mrs. Rutherford; a woman by all reports who was practically impossible to please. To cater to her was to encourage her controlling ways. It would not be simply the loss of a gown, but possibly of a great many gowns if she became vengeful and called on the other women in the village to reject Melody as well. While it certainly would not be fair, it was often the unintended or overlooked detail that lit the fuse.

  The result of that could be catastrophic to the Wellchester’s reputation. Women like Mrs. Rutherford were never content to wreak havoc quietly; indeed, she was at her best when in the throes of a temper. Sylvia and Ira held their breaths and watched Melody work.

  The day came when the gown was finished and Melody sent word. Conner answered the door and took the note from the young messenger boy. “I’ll take it from here,” Conner told him and flipped a coin in his direction.

  Conner harnessed their best carriage horse and set off in the direction of the Wellchester home. The horse stepped high as he turned it down the drive and within moments he came in sight of the farrier barn. Ira was working and saw the beautiful animal approaching. He even brushed the soot from his leather apron as he emerged, certain there was an emergency involved.

  The young man tied off the carriage and descended. He took off his hat and held out his hand. “Might I have the pleasure of meeting Mr. Ira Wellchester?” he asked politely.

  “Indeed. And who might you be?”

  “Rutherford, sir, Conner Rutherford. My mother and I purchased the Smythe residence and your daughter, Melody has been a guest in our home on occasion.”

  Ira shook his hand and then nodded. “Yes, I have heard your name…both of you,” he added and did not apologize.

  Conner smiled, the dimple in his squared chin displaying his good humor. “Yes, my mother can be a challenge… but sir, I must admit that your daughter held her own. That she did.”

  “I raised Melody, her brother and sister to be strong and to speak up on their own behalf.”

  “A fine job you did, sir. Indeed, I have come this afternoon after having received word that Melody completed a gown she was making for my m
other. I thought I might accompany her as she delivers it, making sure she is likewise accompanied afterwards. It would not do to have her in the dark.”

  “Dark?” Ira’s attention was alerted.

  Conner shook his head slightly. “Sir, I will admit my mother can be rather controlling and should she appreciate Melody’s work, as I suspect she will, my guess is that she will order several more gowns and expect Melody to linger long enough to gather the details.”

  “I see. Perhaps her mother should accompany her?”

  Conner’s mouth opened as he recognized the source of Ira’s concern. “Ah, yes, sir… I see your point. Unfortunately, the carriage holds but two people. My mother and I never have need for an entourage, you see.”

  Ira, pulled out his pipe and took a puff, coughing as the smoke snaked into his blackened lungs. “Tell you what. I thought I might ride into the village and have a cold brew at the pub. Melody may ride with you and I will follow. That way she will be properly chaperoned and yet you may feel free to visit with her.”

  “An excellent plan, sir. Perhaps you would not mind if I joined you at the pub? I have not yet had the pleasure of making the acquaintances of the village menfolk.”

  “Suit yourself. I will tell Melody you are here and change my clothes. She will be out shortly.”

  Conner was a bit puzzled by Ira’s cool appraisal. His integrity had never been questioned and truth be told, most of the parents of girls he had taken an interest in had practically bundled their daughters into his back pocket and cheered their good fortune. It was obvious the Wellchesters were a proud and strong family. He looked forward to someday meeting Melody’s siblings. That was when the thought struck him; he was already thinking in the future with regard to Melody. That was a first.

  No one had to alert Melody to Conner’s presence. She’d spied the movement as she sat by the window, sewing. Truth be told, she was watching for the courier’s return and when he saw that it was Conner, himself, she nearly swooned with excitement. Whether he considered her simply his mother’s seamstress or not, she would not let that keep her from enjoying his company. Pressing her nose against the window, she saw him climb from his carriage and have a conversation with her father. She heard the kitchen door open and quickly sat back down, feigning surprise when Ira announced she was to deliver the gown and Conner had come to accompany her. “I will be following on Midnight, mind you,” he shook a finger mildly at her.

  Ira would more than likely not have reacted in the same manner if it had been one of the local boys who came to be in Melody’s company. His caution was based on the fact that the Rutherfords were outsiders at best. He had a feeling they were accustomed to being treated with kid gloves, given their wealth, and that was often misinterpreted as the right to take liberties with a young lady whose reputation was not besmirched. Local folk knew Melody and the boys thereabouts had been her childhood playmates. No one would have considered anything untoward was taking place and Ira would not have worried.

  Ira quickly washed in the great hand-painted bowl that always waited with a pitcher of water upon its stand. He donned a clean shirt and as he picked up his pipe, he motioned to Sylvia to follow him. Melody was fast on her heels. Entering the barnyard where Conner awaited, Ira made the introductions.

  “A very great pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Wellchester,” Conner kissed the back of her hand. Ira saw Sylvia’s eyes widen at such unexpected chivalry and he coughed to fill the moment.

  “We had best be on our way,” he kissed Sylvia on the cheek and walked to the carriage, lifting Melody into the seat of the small vehicle. As they waited, he retrieved Midnight, his horse, from the stable and mounted up.

  Conner tipped his hat toward Sylvia. “Ma’am,” he nodded and then joined Melody in the carriage as they set off down the drive. Sylvia waved them off and then went back inside, a slight skip to her step.

  Chapter 10

  “Your father values you highly, and well he should,” Conner mentioned as they passed the green fields and flowers on their way toward the village.

  “I confess, I noticed he is behaving a bit strangely,” she answered, turning midway to wave at her father who nodded in return.

  “In what way strange?”

  “Well, my brother, sister and I were raised to be independent and perhaps even a bit wild. We had the run of the farm, the forest and stream beyond that and were seldom accountable for our time as long as we did our chores and appeared at the table washed and on time. Father was strict, but fair, and we were all given the opportunity to voice our opinions.” She laughed. “Of course, Father immediately set us to rights in our thinking, but at least the opportunity to speak up was offered.”

  “And you feel now that he is denying you that freedom? Is that what you’re saying?”

  “Not so much that, but perhaps that he is testing my judgment.” It was difficult for her to explain it.

  “Your judgment. In delivering a dress?”

  Melody blushed furiously, suddenly realizing that she had once again overstepped herself and her assumptions. Conner had simply come to pick up his mother’s dress and she was treating it as though he had asked to court her. Perhaps her father was following not so much because he did not trust Conner, but because he feared Melody would allow her heart to overrule her head. She was practically throwing herself at Conner. “No, indeed, no. I suppose it would be fair to say that he may not trust my judgment in the event that your mother does not like that down. I fancy myself a bit of an artist, I am afraid.” She was trying to explain and salvage her humility at the same time. “Most people know that about me and if, at your mother does not like what I’ve created for her, then I will do whatever it takes to keep her pleased. My father believes that sometimes I go a bit too far and that customers take advantage of me.” She realized then what she had just said and once again wished she had a barrel to put over her head. “I did not mean your mother, of course.”

  “Of course,” Conner echoed, laughing. “Melody, I do not believe there is very much that you could say to offend me when it comes to my mother. She has always been a strong, opinionated and often controlling creature but her heart is in the right place. She was widowed too early and it falls upon me, as her only son, to look after her. That is why I came to Tymington with her.”

  “You did not want to come?”

  “Well, you must admit, there is very little for an outsider who is not a farmer or shopkeeper to do in Tymington.”

  “That is true,” Melody nodded.

  “I believe there are times when Mother looks at me the same way she would a lapdog. I am good company and I run interference for her but she has no true need of me. After my father passed, she struggled with her new role as widow. Most especially during the period of mourning. She is fond of being the queen of her own soirées. Mother felt we needed a new beginning. The house we left behind was many times larger than this and mother seldom went above the first floor. So, one day she took it in her head that we must move and she wanted a new start, among people she did not know. I will be quite honest with you and say that I believe my mother considered Tymington a good location because she felt it was in need of a higher social standing. Now before you say anything, I know how arrogant that sounds, but that truly is how my mother thinks.”

  “And do you feel the same way?”

  “Of course not. I have found the people here to be charming, hard workers, filled with pride as they should be and overall, very welcoming to outsiders.” With that said he gave Melody a sidelong look, causing her to blush although she tried not to read anything into his remark. “I will be very honest with you, Melody. I came to Tymington to see to my mother’s settling in. Although I have not yet discussed it with her, I do not intend to remain in Tymington beyond a certain point.”

  “Oh,” escaped Melody’s lips before she could stop it.

  “I feel it only fair to tell you this because were I planning to stay, I would have you know that I would be very int
erested in coming to know you better. I do not think it has escaped your attention that I find you quite charming, but I am not free to act beyond anything other than my mother’s representative at this point.”

  They had turned the bend and the village was in sight, as well as the Rutherford home. “May I be so bold as to ask what you will do?” Melody felt the disappointment in the pit of her stomach and she chose to become if not Conner’s lady of interest, at least a friend who could support him.

  “First, you must promise not to mention any of this to my mother, not even to your parents. My plans are as of yet totally undecided, but I believe I may go into his Majesty’s Naval service. I have a yen to see a bit of the world while I still may. As you can appreciate, my mother can be a bit suffocating and perhaps that’s is what makes me long for the open waves. My father was in naval service, you know. I would be picking up on a family tradition. I cannot even be certain that once my gut is full of seawater and rations, that I would return to England. Perhaps one of those warmer countries over the sea will catch my interest, who knows?”

  “Goodness.” It was the only word Melody could think to use in that moment.

  “Goodness?”

  “What I only mean that from what you tell me and what I have overheard from your mother, this will come as a great shock to her. I do not believe she suspects that you will ever live anywhere other than in her home.”

  Conner nodded. “Precisely why I must go. The world does not need a second Abigail Rutherford.”

  Melody could not help herself, but burst out laughing. Ira heard her and although he did not believe that Conner was potential son in law material, it was good to hear Melody laugh.

  They drew up before the Rutherford house, Conner climbing out of the carriage and tying it up as Ira approached him. “You will find me in the pub should you decide to join me,” Ira said. “I would consider it a kindness if you would stay long enough to be sure that your mother is pleased. Melody takes quite a pride in her work and if things do not go well, she will be looking for a way out quickly.”