Wellchester Triplets Series: A Historical Regency Romance Box Set

by Laura Locke

  Melody giggled, despite her unhappiness at the texture of their conversation. Conner smiled, too.

  “My problem, however, is this. I had hoped I was imagining it, but today confirmed it. My mother is a jealous, vindictive woman. The way she treated you this afternoon in front of the other ladies was despicable. It has become obvious that she fears your reputation as a crafts woman exceeds hers as the social matriarch of the village, as she believes she is. The point is, what you saw this afternoon is only the beginning, I fear. She will lash out, again and again until your reputation is damaged enough that she considers you no longer a threat. I have seen her do this before and it was not a pretty thing. That time it involved a young man whom she had commissioned to paint her portrait. Her sponsorship took him into another level of society where he may not have been able to reach on his own. Once there, he was less and less available to do her bidding and the result was that she accused him of something quite unmentionable, thereby ruining his reputation forever going forward. I would hate very much for her to do something of that nature to you. Do you understand?”

  Melody nodded. “I believe I do.”

  “It is for this reason that I have not left already. I could see what she was about, but I was not sure how much you would come to depend upon her favor. This afternoon proved to me that her opinion carries weight in this village. That could be disastrous for you. Your family has always been here and does not deserve such a threat. Other than bodily picking her up and moving her elsewhere, I know of no way to stop her. I can have a talk with her, however that may just encourage her all the more. The time has come, however, that I must make my way and leave you all behind. The best I can think to do is to warn you, and your father. He is a wise man and loves you very much. At this point, he is the best protector available for you.”

  Melody nodded, thoughtful. “Conner, I think you for your bluntness. You are right, it was the best way to approach this. We could’ve fumbled four days with innuendo and never understood one another. I recognize what you say about your mother could be true. I must admit, it had occurred to me as well. Of course, I did not know of any previous incidences, but it became particularly clear this afternoon that she would sacrifice my reputation in order to advance her own. I feel badly for you that she is that way. It could not have been pleasant to grow up with that.”

  “I am the last person you should worry about, Melody. I am accustomed to her and what is more, I am about to leave her.”

  “Nevertheless, you should understand that I am empathetic to your plight. At the moment, I have but one down yet to be created to her order. I will deliver that and then make my excuses that my workload is heavy and it may be some time before I am available to her again. Surely, she cannot take offense at that, for it is a mark of her sponsorship that I have attained that notoriety. In short, I will simply make myself scarce and she will soon lose interest and go elsewhere.”

  Conner was shaking his head. “I am not sure is that simple, but let us hope you are correct. As I said, I will have an indirect talk with her before I go. I will not bring you up by name, but I will lecture her about the impropriety of using those people who make an effort to please her. I cannot guarantee it will sink in, it has not today, but we can hope. In the meantime, with your permission, I would like to write to you. Of course, the letters would be far between as they can only be mailed when we make port. Would you be open to that?”

  Melody smiled widely. “Of course, that would make me very happy.”

  “But Melody, let me make myself clear. I can give you no promises that our pass will ever cross again. If it should happen that you find a suitor, you are to immediately write me and let me know and I will not trouble you again. There is no way that I wish to come between you and your future happiness. Do you promise me?”

  Melody loved the fact that he considered her so desirable in the suit are so plentiful that this would become an issue, but she obliged him by saying, “I promise.”

  “Very well. Then we are of a like mind. I will have a short chat with your father before taking my leave, although perhaps not this afternoon. I may choose to do that at the pub as it is far more conducive for that sort of conversation. So, dear Melody, my heart is heavy that I will leave you behind and I hope we can be friends although if only with words.” He took a deep breath and before she could react, he bent forward and kissed her upon the cheek. It was improper and therefore all the more precious to her. The last she saw of him was from her sewing room window as he waved goodbye, headed down the lane.

  Chapter 14

  Melody considered the gray, raining morning out the kitchen window. Her mood matched. She saw Sylvia and Ira exchange looks and knew what they were thinking. She had let her heart go where it should not have.

  Conner had left the day after the tea disaster and when he walked her home. She reached into her pocket and fingered his handkerchief; the only true reminder that he even existed. Her heart heavy, she finished her tea and made her way to the sewing room to cut out the last gown she had decided to make for Abigail Rutherford. This one would be black—how appropriate.

  “Ye miss him, do not you?” Sylvia said from the doorway.

  Melody started from her reverie. She prevaricated. “Who do you mean?”

  “Do not do that.” Melody looked up with shock at Sylvia’s tone. “Do not treat me as if I do not know you, or cannot see what has happened. It was your father’s dread—that you would lose your heart to someone who would not return it.”

  “Mother, he does care for me, I know it.”

  Sylvia leaned forward and planted her hands at the end of Melody’s table, bending low into her face. “A man with good intentions does not leave a lady in the lurch without so much as a promise,” she said sternly. “He had no right to trifle with your emotions!”

  “Mother!” Melody could tell her mother was angry—very angry.

  “Then denied.”

  Melody was shaking her head, her eyes wide with her mother’s vehemence. “No, I ca not deny it. He was present company and more than that. He was my protector against his mother. Could you not see that? Now there is nothing to hold her back.”

  “Hold her back from what?”

  Melody laid her work down upon the table and stood up, going to the window and turning her back toward her mother. “I had not told you this, for I thought I could remedy it on my own. When I delivered the last gowns to Mrs. Rutherford…” Melody reached into her pocket and fingered the handkerchief for strength. “… Mrs. Rutherford was not kind to me.”

  Sylvia’s head snapped and her chin jutted out, a sure sign that she was vexed. “What do you mean, not kind to you?”

  “I mean that she gave me to believe that I was invited to tea and that delivering her gowns was just a logical time to come. When I arrived, there were no tea things in evidence. I had brought a plate of biscuits I had made for the occasion. Once she saw her gowns, she had me display them over the settee, artfully arranged. It was then that three ladies from the village arrived. Three, prominent ladies. Of course, they all knew of me, but Mrs. Rutherford took the occasion into hand to gather their praise for her cunning in having hired me. Once their praise began to turn in my direction, she ordered tea and probably asked the housekeeper to show me to the door.”

  “What? Could you have misinterpreted this?”

  Melody shook his head sadly. “No, Mother, there was no misunderstanding. I know this because Conner had witnessed the entire conversation from a position at the top of the staircase. After I was shown out, he followed and caught up to me. He asked to walk me home and during that walk, he apologized hardly for his mother’s behavior.”

  “Well… I will…”

  Melody grasped her mother’s hand. “No, Mother, listen to me. This black gown you see me working on, that’s the last. I will do no more for her. I will not allow her to besmirch my reputation in the village by claiming that I had failed to fulfill in order. The momentum is enough that
we have gained many more customers. You have to admit that yourself. What I plan is to finish this gown, deliver it, and if ever invited back, I will respond that I am too busy. She will get what she has earned, make no mistake about that. She will have to find someone else to abuse who will so her gowns.”

  Sylvia was silent for a few moments, contemplating Melody’s words. Without saying another thing, she turned and left the room and Melody knew for certain that Sylvia had gone in search of Ira. It was better that he heard it from Sylvia. She had a way with him and Melody was quite certain that her father would be upset at the intended slight. Sure enough, his shadow soon loomed before her.

  Melody looked up. “Father?”

  “Your mother has told me.”

  “I thought as much.” Melody frowned and looked back at her sewing.

  “She is also shared with me your plans for the future business with Mrs. Rutherford. I admit that I would like nothing better than to ignore her completely, but I see the logic in your plans. It would not do for the village to believe that a Wellchester could be so insulted and sneak off like a booted dog.”

  Melody opened her mouth to object to the reference, but the look in Ira’s eyes held her off. His pride had been wounded, far more than hers. Let him have some say in the matter and perhaps the entire unfortunate incident could be thereafter forgotten. “He is no longer welcome here, Melody.”

  He meant Conner, there was no mistaking his tone. For some reason, her father had not taken to Conner from the outset. Perhaps he had seen what was in the offing, but one thing remained true. Conner had no role in his mother’s disgraceful behavior. In fact, he had apologized on her behalf and done as much as he could to make it right. Even to the point of lingering in Tymington longer than he had planned. It would not help to explain this to her father. His mind was set and his pride injured. Melody knew the likelihood that Conner would ever return was very slim and if, by chance, that ever occurred, she could plead his cause then. For now, it was better that I wrote when the day. Melody nodded and looked up, “Yes, Father.” Satisfied, Ira left the room and headed out the kitchen door for a solitary smoke.

  Chapter 15

  Melody had boxed Mrs. Rutherford’s black gown. The shade of the fabric was susceptible to dust from the lane and she would have nothing risked that Abigail could take exception to. She presented herself at the Rutherford house, knocking neatly and stepping back as Mrs. Pinkerton opened the door. Melody held, yet again, a plate with biscuits she had baked and the box was beneath her other arm. “I believe Mrs. Rutherford is expecting me?”

  Mrs. Pinkerton nodded, stepped back and opened the door wide. “The biscuits were quite delicious, Miss,” Mrs. Pinkerton whispered, believing that she was being supportive. Melody’s face claimed that she realized that Mrs. Rutherford had not eaten her earlier contribution, but given it to Mrs. Pinkerton to dispose of. Nevertheless, she lifted her chin and proceeded into the parlor where her foes sat waiting.

  “Good day, Mrs. Rutherford,” Melody greeted her. Without waiting for further invitation, she crossed the room and set the box up on the settee. The plate with biscuits, she set upon the tea table. “They are fresh from the oven, Mrs. Rutherford. Perhaps you and your friends may enjoy them with tea today.”

  “What friends? There is no one coming to tea today.”

  “Very well, then perhaps Mrs. Pinkerton may dispose of them. Be that as it may, I have brought the black gown you commissioned.” Without speaking further, Melody opened the box, laying back the protective tissues and pulled a beautiful, ruched gown in black silk from its folds. Even Mrs. Rutherford could not contain her indrawn breath as the folds of the skirt settled across her woven carpet. Melody knew it was her best work and she stood proudly, displaying it.

  Abigail, who was never one to pass out compliments, could not do it today, even though she marveled at the workmanship she saw before herself. Her mind flew with plans of holding a dinner party, that she might wear the gown and receive the proper respect to which she felt she was entitled. She had been ailing since Conner’s betrayal, as she called it. A dinner party would be just the thing to cheer her up. “I see. Are you certain of the dimensions?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Melody did not elaborate but had been careful to include an extra fingers fabric in the waist, his Mrs. Rutherford had been indulging herself increasingly and her otherwise portly figure was burgeoning.

  “Very well, then hand it to Mrs. Pinkerton on your way out,” she said distinctly and made no mention of payment. Conner had always seen to that and somehow Melody believed she would receive an envelope in the next day or two. He would not overlook her.

  Melody nodded, re-boxed the gown and turned on her heel. Mrs. Pinkerton, who was forever waiting in the wings within earshot, met her at the door and took the box from her hands. “I will see to it that Mr. Conner knows you delivered this and I will have a courier return your plate,” she whispered quickly as she was closing the door behind Melody.

  “Thank God.” Melody could think of nothing more appropriate to say she drew in a deep breath of the afternoon air and felt the prison doors of Mrs. Rutherford’s presence close behind her. As it turned out, Mrs. Rutherford’s patronage had provided considerable opportunity for Melody to become better known. Although her parents were comfortably situated, Melody intended to make her own way in the world and the recommendations she would gather from the local villagers would stand her in good stead. With a brisk step, she set off for home. Sure enough, that very evening, a courier appeared at the Wellchester door and an envelope handed over. As much as she wanted to intercept it, Sylvia allowed Melody to receive the envelope and did not ask to see the contents. Melody had earned whatever lay inside. Ira witnessed the exchange and his brooding mood lifted somewhat for the rest of the evening.

  Melody retreated to her bedroom before opening the envelope. Inside was a sum of money equal to many times that which she would charge for the gown. This was Conner’s way of telling her that she was more valuable than she would let herself believe. There was also a note in what she assumed was his own handwriting. It read, “I wish it could be different. You may always reach me through my solicitor. His address is written below. Take care, she will not be happy at my leaving and she will strike out at someone in her frustration. I pray it is not you. I look forward to hearing from you. Your servant, Conner Rutherford.”

  Melody took the card and, pairing it with his handkerchief, hid them in him side a small satin pouch where she kept odds and ends from her childhood adventures. Perhaps Conner was nothing more than that, she thought to herself… an adventure.

  Chapter 16

  Melody, down and restless, decided to walk into the village that afternoon. The sun was warm and she tied up on it over her head to block its harshness. Feeling the need to be comforted, she found a stone in the grasses at the side of the lane and kicked it. It was a game she, her brother and sister had played when forced to walk long distances and dreading every step. It had helped to make the time pass faster and now it cheered her to think of those youthful antics.

  She kicked the stone to one side once she was in view of the shops. It would not do for others to see her unladylike behavior. She walked the length of the village, peering into the windows with vital attention. She spotted a display of scented bath salts and Dillard’s window and thought they may be just the thing to cheer her up. She walked inside and stood before the display, trying each sent in turn.

  “Oh, there she is,” Mrs. Dillard’s voice was barely disguised from the other side of the shop. At first, Melody paid no attention, assuming she was referring to someone walking by the shop. But when the ladies who were clustered with Mrs. Dillard became silent, Melody grew suspicious and she gave them a quick, sidelong look. To her amazement, their eyes were on her.

  Melody set down the bottle of salts and slowly walked toward Mrs. Dillard and her group. “Good afternoon, Mrs. Dillard, ladies,” she nodded to each of them in return. Their faces were ca
refully blank, and their body language was off-putting. “Is there a problem? I ca not help but notice that you all ceased speaking when I entered.”

  The women all looked to Mrs. Dillard to respond. After all, it was her shop and her story to tell. “Melody, how could you do such a thing?” Mrs. Dillard’s voice was accusative and indignant

  Melody was confused. “I am sure I do not know what you are talking about? What did I do?”

  “There’s no point in denying it, Melody. Mrs. Rutherford let everyone know and I must say, it does not come as a surprise to me. You have always been the odd one.”

  Melody’s face grew hot with anger. “Perhaps, Mrs. Dillard, you would be so kind as to enlighten me? I seem to have been hung without trial or jury.”

  Her foot was tapping and her fingernails dug into the palms of her hand as she clenched them into fists at her side. Her topaz eyes flared like the sun, so brightly that the other women took a step back. To her shock, she even heard the muttered whisper, “witch.”

  She spun so that her back blocked the other women and came close to Mrs. Dillard. “What is going on? I insist you tell me!”

  Her vehemence caused Mrs. Dillard to draw back, almost as if in fear. “Melody, we have known you since you were born and would have never believed this, but Mrs. Rutherford is a force with which to be reckoned.”

  “I do not care about that. What is she saying about me?”

  Mrs. Dillard looked for her husband’s support, but he was studiously ignoring her, busy with a mortar and pestle.