by Eliza Lloyd
“You jest. I am wearing my best boots. Will you walk with me back to the house?” He held out his arm, to which she submitted with a delicate touch.
They strolled quietly for a few minutes. “Why did you come to Whitmarsh? This lonely backwater surely does not compare to your life in London?” she asked.
“My life in London has grown quiet of late. A little country air might do me good.”
“South Weald air wasn’t fresh enough?”
“I’m sorry I didn’t take you with me. I thought my note to you provided an adequate explanation.” He was sorry, especially when he arrived home to find her gone. Already she’d found a way to fill up his life. He didn’t like the empty spot left behind when she was gone.
“Carlow, I’m not made for life in London or for life with an earl. We must end this.”
“The answer is no. We are married, Nora. Let’s not fool ourselves any longer, shall we?”
He led her toward a bench in the vegetable garden, sitting amidst the tomato stakes and bean vines. There were companion plants nearby: marigold flowers, basil and parsley along with some radishes. Other rows of orderly plants spread off in the same direction.
They sat, the evening sun shining intense rays around them, displaying dust motes and butterflies.
“I am sorry about your friend’s father,” she offered.
“What? No schadenfreude?” he asked.
“Schadenfreude? Self-satisfaction from others’ troubles? To have such a word, the Germans must have had a deep understanding of human nature. Aristotle had a similar meaning word, epikhairekakos—pleasure in the misfortune of others.”
“You don’t feel some small bit of joy?”
“Why would I celebrate? He knew things that might have helped me, and I am truly sorry.”
“He enjoyed a good life with his family, and he was well loved. I should be so lucky at the end of my life. I do have some news, though, and a few questions,” he said.
Nora drew up defensively. “About what?”
“What if I could tell you that there is another common denominator regarding Henbury Hall that has nothing to do with the Wicked Three? I’ll also require a small favor for this information.”
She rolled her eyes and then shook her head. “I have already promised to do my wifely duty.” She turned to face him then, and licked her lips, lids squinted in an effort to read his expression. “Is that the favor?”
“It’s your enthusiasm which brings me to my knees. I just want a kiss.”
Nora scooted close to him and laid her hand upon his knee. “Why didn’t you just say so? Are you supposed to ask my permission every time you want to kiss me? Because it does seem like a waste of time when perhaps I also want to be kissed by you. But in this case, because you’ve asked for a favor, I am afraid it will cost you one sovereign.”
She held up the coin, which she somehow managed to swipe from his waistcoat pocket.
“I’m going to start carrying ha’pennies.”
Nora laughed, that deep-throated sound, nothing like humor, but more like temptation. She came closer and pressed her lips to his. She had learned a few tricks—from him, he believed—and after the kiss she nibbled at his lower lip before trailing her tongue along the roughened edge of his jaw.
“How much will it cost to be invited to your bed this evening?” he asked quietly, while his body rioted with a familiar need now that Nora was in his life.
“If you are asking for a favor, I’ll have to put pen to paper. If you are coming to my bed because you are at my mercy, then I grant you leave.”
“Mm, at your mercy,” he said, kissing her in return. “What an awful place to be.” He slipped his hand through her hair and gripped her neck, holding her so she did not escape his grasp, let alone the bench, Whitmarsh or England. When he pressed his tongue to her mouth, she opened with timidity. Good God, that was not a word to use to describe anything about Nora Blasington.
Nora screamed! She bent over, gasping. Gabriel jerked away and glanced about for whatever danger was threatening her. “Nora?”
“Ahh!” She jumped from the bench and batted at her skirts. “A bee! I got stung by a bee.” She lifted her skirts to her knees and then swooshed them around before hopping from the garden and back onto the gravel-and-shell walking path.
“Let me see,” Gabriel said, going to one knee to look at her leg. Just above her tied stocking there was a bright red welt. “Oh, dear. Let’s get you to the house.”
“I hate bees! I mean, I love bees, but I hate what a nuisance they can be. Let me get some mud to soothe the sting.”
“Mud?”
Still holding her skirt up, she walked back to the garden and reached into the wet mud beneath the plants then applied the damp dirt to the red bump, holding it in place for a moment.
“Do you want to sit back down?”
“Yes, just make sure there are no more bees nearby.”
“Based on the number of blooms in the garden, I would say it is a good bet that there are. And with you? They could hardly resist such a blossom as you.”
“Please don’t ever write poetry. I prefer the Carlow who does not employ flowery prose to get what he wants.” She glanced down. “I need more mud.”
“At your service.”
Carlow dipped his hand into the same spot, pulled up a pat of the soothing mud and daubed it on her leg. “Better?”
“I will be once you tell me about this news. There is nothing about Henbury Hall I don’t already know.”
“Did you know your grandfather won Henbury Hall, the mines and the stallions from one man while gambling at Carlton House?”
Nora stopped fusing and dropped her skirts. “Who told you that?”
“I learned it while I was at South Weald. My marriage to you kicked up a lot of questions and I beat the dust out until I found something useful. That would certainly explain why the property wasn’t entailed.”
“My grandfather?”
“Did you know him?”
“Only by name: Harold. A war hero, I’ve been told. Who was it?”
“The Duke of Exeter.”
She gnawed at her lower lip. “Exeter? Hmm, I’ve never heard his name in connection with the estate.”
Gabriel sighed, knowing it was a weak link at best. “I share this information because it is a start, and it is new information. There is now one other person who might have had an interest in getting his property back.”
Nora shook her head, confusion lining her face. “But he didn’t get his property back. And we know who does have the properties. It’s not clear, Gabriel. It is just an interesting side story. Let’s go inside. Dinner must be nearly ready, and I need to wash up.”
“But there is more, if you want to hear it.”
“Of course.” She fussed at her skirts then gazed at him, expecting the world.
“I was a bit curious about our fathers—yours, mine, Andover’s, Fromme’s.”
“Yes. And?”
“Three of them, including your father, attended King Edward VI Grammar School in Chelmsford.”
“And the fourth?”
“Andover. He grew up at South Weald. Not so far from Henbury Hall. They must have known each other as neighbors. Which might also explain why Andover ended up with the stallions.”
Nora stiffened and took a deep breath. “They knew each other. There was a connection. I knew it!”
“From what I read, your father only attended for three years, but there was a time when some of them were at the school together.” Gabriel shrugged. “Whether they were friends or not is unknown. I don’t know what it means. I thought it was interesting. I’m sorry, now that I’ve said it aloud, it does not seem as beneficial as I hoped.”
“I don’t blame you for this, Gabriel. I did. But not now. It’s clear you were never involved.” She leaned to kiss his cheek. “I do appreciate that you even inquired.”
“We are leaving in the morning, Nora.”
“
Will we go to Henbury? It’s more important than ever.”
“Let’s go back to London. We’ll rest for a few days. Your new clothes should be about finished and then we will go.”
“Home. Yes. That sounds so wonderful.”
Gabriel saw the wistfulness in Nora’s expression. Home was always going to be Henbury Hall for her. He had no counter to that and if he told her the truth, he might destroy what dreams of the past she still had. And the dreams of the future would evaporate like smoke in the wind.
* * * * *
There were times when it was terrible to be such a good liar. Nora needed to reread sections of her mother’s diary. Exeter’s name was mentioned. The context was very specific: Exeter had gifted her mother a pearl necklace, but now she had to be sure. At the time she had only wondered where the necklace had gone.
It hadn’t meant anything when she’d first read it, and she hadn’t given it a second thought since then. She would reread the diary as soon as she could.
“I met the estimable Lady Fortenay when I arrived. She was pleased you married such a fine specimen,” Gabriel said.
Nora glanced at him quickly. He was a handsome man in his brown boots and fawn britches. His jacket fit well across the shoulders. And all his finery supported an appealing visage—dark brows, high cheekbones and solid jaw. His color was high, whether from being tired after a long journey or from other emotion he was feeling. And all that hair, tossed about by the wind. A hundred different shades in no particular style.
“I’m sure she was contemplating how grateful she was that someone else is now required to care for and protect me.”
He stopped and turned, bowing quickly. “It is my greatest pleasure, Lady Carlow.”
Nora blushed. The sincerity of his words was in direct opposition to Nora’s callous and selfish determination. How could she change that when her feelings for Henbury and her family’s heritage were so all-encompassing? “Carlow, how will you ever trust me? You know what I am capable of; you know my family’s past.”
“We all have our sins.”
“I have yet to see yours.”
“You don’t count Miss Talbot among them?”
“If sin and Miss Talbot went together, you would be married to her instead of me,” Nora said.
He laughed, a hearty sound that echoed between the buildings as they approached the house. “Sins are there. I prefer to reveal them slowly, over time and with plenty of drink in my belly. You might want a few drinks as well, should I decide to reveal all my misdeeds.”
“Reveal something soon, or I will start to believe you are a living saint.”
“If you’d seen me dress down Mintz about your escape, you’d question my integrity.”
“Did you? Oh, I didn’t mean to cause him trouble.”
“He’s as tough as an old leather shoe. I wouldn’t worry.”
Gabriel opened the back door and they stepped into the darkened hallway, leading to the kitchen and dining room. The house was lit with candles placed in the windows along with two large candelabra on the dining room table. The cook and Molly were hurrying back and forth to complete the service. Nora supposed Carlow was the cause of the less-than-casual setting. Lord and Lady Fortenay weren’t the fussy type on an average day.
“I’ll let Lady Fortenay know we have returned. Where is your valise? I can show you to our room in a moment,” Nora said.
“Our room?”
“This is a small abode as ton standards go and there aren’t enough servants to be scrambling about to clean all six rooms every morning. Wait here,” she said. She left him and practically skipped to Lady Fortenay’s brocade chair in the back drawing room, where the evening sun’s last light scattered in the room. She probably saw them walk up to the house.
“He’s a fine-looking boy,” Gigi said.
“He’s not a boy. I’m not a little girl.”
“No, not anymore, dear. What is that dirt all over your skirts?” Gigi had a way of reminding her she was more girl than mature woman.
“I got stung in the garden, but it doesn’t hurt anymore.”
“I think it is a good sign he has trailed after you.”
“Just his pride. He’s doesn’t want me to make a fool of him so soon after our wedding,” Nora concluded.
“If you think so,” Gigi said cryptically. “We’ll need to talk some more about why a man follows a woman anywhere.”
“I know all about men,” Nora said. Of course, she didn’t! She didn’t even have a good idea about who her husband and his family really were.
Lady Fortenay sighed. “I have failed you!” she said dramatically. “Dinner will be at seven.”
* * * * *
Gabriel stood at the base of the staircase, glancing around and trying to imagine the young Nora running free and plotting her revenge. It was a clear vision. Nora, sitting at Lady Fortenay’s feet, a fire burning to ward off the winter chill, while they read Hamlet, fueling the romantic notion of vengeance.
Nora had changed into her grey dress with the white cuffs and had brushed her windblown hair, now slicked back and placed in a tight knot at the back of her head. She was dramatic, as she descended the stairs, in the way of a marble sculpture. Perfect lines, serious appearance and so flawless. A look of rigidity, but a heart of tenderness.
What other woman would try to carry his valise, insist on bringing hot water to their room and want to clean his boots before dinner? He’d held her hands firmly. “I am capable,” he’d said an hour ago. Oh yes, he was more than capable and growing more capable with every hour he spent with the delectable Nora. He was still having trouble believing she was actually his wife. Later in life that might change, but right now, everything about Nora was enchanting.
“Good evening, Lady Carlow.”
“Carlow,” she said with a sultry smile, then followed with a quick curtsy.
He braced his arm against the flat top of the newel post. He glanced around to confirm they were alone. “Are you sure we should share your room tonight? Your bed doesn’t appear big enough for the both of us.”
“You could sleep on the floor.”
He stared hard, trying to convey the message she kept ignoring. “I could. If there is ample room, perhaps we could sleep there together.”
“I haven’t slept on the floor since I was twelve.” A bell sounded, summing the household. “Lady Fortenay wants us in the dining room,” Nora said. Timothy came tromping down the stairs, bowed to Nora and walked in behind them.
Lord Fortenay was seated at the head of the table and Gabriel was to his right, as the only guest of the evening. Nora was seated opposite him. Lady Fortenay was seated to Gabriel’s right. He expected to be questioned with all the intensity of a Spanish inquisitor. He anticipated the first salvo before the potatoes were passed.
Country living had always appealed to Gabriel and anytime he visited his estates, he savored the informality, the easy politeness, the familiarity. The earldom had three large estates each with its own estate manager. They operated without much direction from Gabriel, other than a review of the account books and an annual visit to view the livestock, crops and outbuildings. Henbury had been different. He imagined Henbury Hall was much like this. Or at least it would be when the repairs were completed.
“You realize this was a most imprudent marriage on your part, Lord Carlow?” Lord Fortenay said in a casual voice that brooked no impertinence. Timothy held a bowl of grilled brussels sprouts in butter sauce, afraid to move.
“Grandy!” Nora said, pressing her hand to Lord Fortenay’s arm, alarm in her expression. “Gigi, we don’t need to do this here!” She appealed to both of them who raised her.
Gabriel had wondered at the treatment two young orphans would receive from distant relatives. He was assured of a close relationship in the use of pet names, implying they treated Nora and Timothy as grandchildren. He was struck by the idea that Nora’s need for vengeance must have been tempered by the association. How much more sh
e would have felt the betrayal without a family member to assuage her anger, sorrow and resentment. He was glad he would not have to meet that Nora.
“My dear, it is too late to quibble over details. The fact is we can only provide a fifty-pound a year dowry for Nora. I wish it could be greater. Nora is a fine young woman, but in this matter of your marriage to her, we are grateful, considering the circumstances.”
Nora folded her hands in her lap and looked down.
Gabriel cleared his throat. “You may rightly believe a prosperous economic situation was vital to Nora’s marriage prospects. It was not and is not a consideration for me. And you may think that the only reason I married her was because of a small indiscretion at Lady Weatherby’s ball. Rest assured, I am most content with the arrangement and how it came about. A settlement was not and is not expected.
“I want to hear no more of dowries or ton gossip spread by busybodies who have nothing better to discuss. Nora is my wife and that is the end of the matter,” Carlow finished, and reached for his mug of cool ale.
“Hmpf. And to you I say, in spite of the circumstances, we expect you to care for Nora as the jewel she is,” Lord Fortenay said with equal force.
“I am sitting right here. You may include me in this conversation. Maybe I have something to say!” Nora said.
“What do you wish to say, Nora, dear?” Lady Fortenay asked.
“Um. I’m…I’m married. There is nothing else to say.” She picked up her linen napkin and snapped it into place.
Gabriel wanted to give Nora some assurance, but she wouldn’t look at him.
“Well, now that that is settled, let’s eat,” Lord Fortenay said, his jovial mood returned after declaring his duty as Nora’s guardian. He reached for a tray of sweetmeats and spooned a healthy portion of the meat delicacy to his plate.
“So, Carlow tell us the news of the ton.” Lady Fortenay asked.
“Starting where? Fashionable faux pas? The House of Lords? The royals?”
“Not any sort of gossip, certainly. We only need to know what is true,” Lady Fortenay said with a certain false pride. Of course she wanted the gossip. Hester Burney was just a little too educated to believe she would stoop so low.