Wyndcross, p.11
Wyndcross, page 11
Her humor dissipated quickly, though, with the interaction between Lord Ashworth and Clara in full view.
As they approached the town, the traffic became heavier, and the dust from the phaeton kicked up in clouds ahead of the landau. Clara surrendered the reins to Lord Ashworth, who looked relieved to be in control again.
Weymouth was almost unrecognizable from the town Kate remembered visiting as a child. The frequent visits of King George had resulted in a significant rise in visitors, shops, and buildings. Seagulls flew along the street facing the bay, sounding the familiar cackle she remembered from childhood. Though the street itself was barely recognizable to her, the coastline in the distance was the same as it had always been, chalky cliffs topped with green grass, dropping into a blue abyss.
The landau continued following the phaeton along the seafront, and Lady Anne identified points of interest which hadn’t existed at the time of Kate’s last visit. She regaled Kate with tales of all the famous people who had begun to frequent the town, while Henry had his own stories and embellishments to add, successfully distracting Kate from her thoughts.
Kate became hopeful she might well pass the entire expedition without any interaction with Lord Ashworth, and only the slightest pang of disappointment marred the relief she felt in that knowledge.
The carriage slowed and then stopped, and Henry descended, informing Lady Anne and Kate that he had some business to attend to on his mother’s behalf.
“Won’t take above five minutes,” he said.
The phaeton stopped as well, and Lord Ashworth assisted Clara down to join Henry.
At Henry’s assurance of a quick errand, Lord Ashworth hopped back up into the phaeton. “If they are back in a minute under twenty, I shall pull the landau home myself. Forgive me, ladies, but I have no intention of keeping my horses standing for twenty minutes.” He winked at them, and the phaeton moved forward.
Lady Anne and Kate sat patiently in the landau, Kate massaging her ankle gently. Harper, the Croftes’ coachman, expressed his intention to follow Lord Ashworth’s example if the ladies were agreeable. The landau lurched forward, and Kate clenched her jaw at the abrupt movement.
The phaeton was still visible up ahead, but it soon turned onto a side street, leaving their view. In a matter of two minutes, the landau turned onto the same street, and Kate was surprised to see the high-perch phaeton sitting stationary up ahead on the side of the road.
A scruffy man stood at the horses’ heads, holding the reins as Lord Ashworth pulled something from the sack which had so disgusted Clara. He threw what appeared to be a large cloak across his shoulders, took off his top hat, and placed a tricorne in its stead. He hopped down from the phaeton, crossed the street, and entered an inn. It was not the sort of establishment Kate would have expected to see a gentleman frequenting, and she turned to see if Lady Anne had noticed her brother’s queer behavior and destination.
Lady Anne had her head down, though, and was searching in her reticule for her handkerchief.
The door to the inn opened again, and two men walked out. Their feet shuffled, and they walked with a hint of instability, evidence, Kate could only assume, of the drink they had consumed within. Both were attired in dark clothing spattered generously with dirt. The edges of their faces were streaked with a dark substance, as if they had made only a half-hearted attempt to wipe it away.
Kate couldn’t think what Lord Ashworth might have in common with such persons that would lead them to frequent the same inn.
As the landau approached, it became clear the two men intended to cross the street, despite the equipage bearing down on them. Whether Harper was unaware of them or simply confident they would move, he seemed resolved on pursuing his course. Kate was sure the men would take notice and move, but they did not.
“Stop!” she cried, and both the landau and the two men came to an abrupt halt.
Lady Anne’s head shot up in surprise, and she blinked as Harper made proper, though somewhat begrudging, apologies to the men. The two of them shouted slurred threats before continuing across the street.
“Good gracious,” Lady Anne said as the landau resumed its course. “Those two men owe their well-being to you, Kate.”
“Who are they?” asked Kate, unable to contain her curiosity.
“Free traders,” said Lady Anne in a dispassionate tone as Kate stiffened imperceptibly beside her.
“Did you not see the blacking on their faces?” Lady Anne dabbed her brow with her handkerchief. “That inn is a known favorite of theirs. One often sees them frequenting it the morning after a shipment.”
“If it so well-known, do they not fear being caught?”
Lady Anne shook her head. “Free-trading is largely accepted here, and even among those who dislike it, Emmerson’s reputation keeps people from interfering. They can be quite ruthless to any tale-bearers. Even the excisemen hold Emmerson in awe. Many of them turn a blind eye to his affairs.”
“Emmerson?” Kate’s voice came out hoarse, and she cleared her throat.
“The man behind the rise of smuggling in the county.”
“I am familiar with him,” she said in a colorless voice, staring ahead with blank eyes.
Though no one had ever been convicted for the shooting of her father, the man responsible had been arrested—the young Charles Emmerson.
Witnesses had been brought to testify against him, but once the trial began, not a single one remained willing. Each one had been intimidated and Emmerson released due to a lack of evidence.
She thought of Jasper Clarkson, his wife, and his baby, and she felt sick. How was it possible the man who had taken her father’s life was still at large? And why was Lord Ashworth frequenting the well-known haunt of smugglers—partially disguised, no less?
According to Lady Anne, the county was either apathetic toward or hand-in-glove with the free traders. Perhaps she wouldn’t bat an eye to know of her brother’s behavior.
“You look unwell, Kate,” Lady Anne said with concern. “Is it your ankle?”
Kate forced a smile. “Forgive me. I am not feeling quite myself.”
Lady Anne’s brow furrowed. “I should have listened to William.”
Kate, who had been dazedly gazing ahead of the landau, turned her head. “What do you mean?”
“He insisted that you not come, but Clara and I overruled him. Very selfishly, it would seem.”
Kate’s stomach tightened. Was it concern or something else which had made him wish for her absence? She was spared the necessity of responding due to the sight of Henry and Clara up ahead. Both held various packages and boxes and were engaged in conversation with two gentlemen.
“Ah,” Lady Anne said, shifting to see them better. “I hadn’t realized they were in town.”
“Forgive me, but who are they?”
“That is Mr. Chapman”—she indicated the man speaking with Henry—“and then Mr. Bradbury beside Clara.”
As the landau neared, Mr. Bradbury relieved Clara of her burden and was rewarded for his troubles by as warm a regard as Kate had ever seen. Her eyebrows went up.
“There you are,” said Henry with a touch of annoyance as the landau stopped. “Been waiting an eon for you.”
“Don’t believe him,” said Mr. Chapman. “He hasn’t been out here but two minutes.”
Harper began to make his apologies to his master, but Henry waved them off. “Never mind that. Where’s Ash? Did he tell you where he was going, Clara?”
Clara turned from Mr. Bradbury, her cheeks tinged pink with pleasure.
Henry was obliged to repeat his question.
“I have no notion where he might have gone,” she said dismissively, turning back to Mr. Bradbury.
“Has he not returned?” asked Lady Anne, surprise in her voice. “He rode just ahead of us.”
Henry shook his head. “Should have guessed he’d be up to some havey-cavey business, leaving us to kick our heels.” He seemed to be in a particularly irritable mood.
Kate shifted in her seat. She was the only one who knew Lord Ashworth’s whereabouts, and though she had spent the past ten minutes fighting suspicion and questions, she suddenly knew an inclination to defend him.
The phaeton came into view in the distance in that same moment. Whatever Lord Ashworth’s business had been, it had been quickly transacted. He was once again wearing his top hat, the cloak was nowhere in sight.
Kate glanced at the dirt-covered sack in front of his legs as he slowed his horses.
“Very pretty behavior, Ash!” said Henry. “Leaving us to await your pleasure, while you sneak off on your own.”
Lord Ashworth only laughed at Henry’s accusation, descending from the phaeton. Either he was dead to any sense of shame, or his reasons for entering the inn were innocent.
Clara leaned toward Mr. Bradbury, conversing with him in a low voice.
“Kate, would you like a turn in the phaeton?” she asked.
“It would be better,” Lord Ashworth replied with a slight frown, “if you or Anne rode with me.”
Kate had been about to demur, but on hearing his words, she looked at him with a mix of surprise and hurt.
He returned her gaze with a questioning look.
“I say, Henry,” interjected Mr. Bradbury, following a discreet nudge from Clara. “Would it be a great bore if I were to ride in your carriage as far as Hookham? I came into town with Chapman here, but he has a number of errands still to accomplish, and I am anxious to return home.”
“No bore, my good man,” said Henry cordially as he climbed up into the carriage, seating himself opposite Lady Anne and Kate. “Be happy to.” Mr. Bradbury hesitated, shooting a look of uncertainty at Clara as he made to move toward the carriage.
Clara needed no prodding. “Lady Anne,” she said in a voice which drew immediate sympathy for its pathetic tone, “would you mind if I rode in the landau instead? I have a touch of the headache. I believe it is the result of being bounced around in the phaeton.”
Lady Anne readily assented, expressing concern over Clara’s discomfort as Mr. Bradbury handed her down from the carriage.
Kate watched the exchange with interest—and growing confusion. Did Clara truly have a headache? Or was she simply eager for an excuse to spend more time with Mr. Bradbury?
It became evident during the journey home, though, that Clara looked at Mr. Bradbury with something more than common friendship. Kate had never seen her look at Lord Ashworth the way she looked at him. Her smiles for him held a unique warmth quite absent from her interactions with Lord Ashworth.
Kate’s bewilderment grew at the contradiction between what she was seeing and what she had been told by Lady Crofte. There had to be some explanation.
Mr. Bradbury was eventually let down at Hookham, and the rest of the party continued on until Lord Ashworth and Lady Anne parted ways with them, bidding Kate and the Croftes a goodbye until the approaching dinner party in two days.
By the time the three had arrived back at Wyndcross, some of Henry’s reserve and ill-humor had returned. He hopped down from the landau as soon as he was able and walked directly to the manor, leaving Clara and Harper to help Kate down from the landau and instruct the servants where to deposit the packages.
Kate thanked them both, expressing a hope, once Harper had left with the carriage, that Clara had passed an enjoyable morning.
“Oh yes,” she said as she helped Kate inside. “I haven’t enjoyed myself so much in quite some time.”
“It was kind of Lord Ashworth to let you handle his chestnuts. Lady Anne says he is very protective of them.”
Clara looked momentarily confused but quickly concurred. “Oh, yes, very kind. I have always wished to drive a high-perch phaeton. How did I look handling the reins?”
Kate laughed. “You looked famous, of course. Is your head feeling better?”
“Oh, yes. Much better. Lord Ashworth’s phaeton is very dashing, but it knocks one about in such a way.”
She changed the subject, prattling on about the purchases she had made for herself and for her mother. The conversation soon moved to the approaching dinner party, Clara expressing her excitement and anticipation. Kate was unsure how to feel at the prospect, but she listened with appreciation to Clara’s delight.
“And you will be able to meet the Kirkpatricks, the Cottrells, the Bradburys—so many of our dear friends.”
Kate had been retying her boot lace which was too tight for comfort, but she stopped for a moment on hearing the names, looking up.
“Mr. Bradbury shall be in attendance, then?”
“Yes,” she replied, a hint of wariness in her tone.
“How lovely,” Kate said. “He was very agreeable, and it is always such a comfort to see a familiar face in a crowd of new people.”
She was beginning to doubt, however, just how well she knew even those who were already familiar to her.
Chapter Eighteen
Kate entered the breakfast parlor the following morning with only a slight favoring of her ankle. Her boot was beginning to go on with greater ease, as the swelling had almost completely disappeared.
Lady Crofte was already partaking of her breakfast. It was unusual to see her at the breakfast table—she normally took it abed. But this day and the one following were bound to be full of tasks to be accomplished before the guests arrived for the party.
She and Kate exchanged greetings, and Lady Crofte inquired civilly about the time Kate and the others had spent in Weymouth the day before. Kate recounted some aspects she thought Lady Crofte would find interesting or entertaining, as Lady Crofte sipped her chocolate.
“...after which,” Kate recounted, “we dropped Mr. Bradbury at Hookham and returned to Wyndcross. It was all very lovely, and everyone was very kind to adapt to my limitations.”
Lady Crofte, who had been listening to Kate with an expression of polite interest, paused for a moment in the act of buttering her roll.
“Mr. Bradbury?” She reached for the preserves. “I was not aware he was one of the party.”
Lady Crofte’s words and tone were devoid of blame, but Kate had the sense she had made a misstep in mentioning him at all.
“Oh, he was not,” she imbued her voice with as much casual indifference as she could muster, adding more sugar to her already sweet chocolate for an excuse not to meet Lady Crofte’s gaze. “We happened upon both him and another gentleman—Mr. Chapman, I believe—in town, and he requested we take him as far as Hookham rather than waiting for Mr. Chapman to finish his commissions.”
“I see.” Lady Crofte was silent for a moment before donning a smile which had the effect of making Kate feel quite tense. “Mr. Bradbury is thought to have quite amusing conversation, as I understand. Did he manage to divert you and Lady Anne during the ride home?”
Kate had felt somewhat diverted during the journey home, but that it was intentional on Mr. Bradbury’s part was doubtful. The mutual attraction between Clara and Mr. Bradbury had been obvious. The looks passing between the two were entirely out of place for people professing only friendship. Their verbal interaction, on the other hand, had been innocuously and painstakingly polite.
Kate cleared her throat and placed a napkin in her lap, smoothing it over several times as she spoke. “In fact, Lady Anne sat up beside her brother for the ride home. Clara was not feeling entirely well after the ride in the phaeton. I must say I sympathize with her after having ridden in Fanny’s. Fashionable they may be, but comfortable they most assuredly are not. Mr. Bradbury was a very pleasant and attentive companion to us in the landau, though.”
Lady Crofte widened her smile so that creases formed at the corners of her eyes. Kate couldn’t remember a time she had seen a smile look so devoid of the emotions it normally conveyed.
The door opened, and one of the footmen walked in, bringing a letter to Kate and bowing before leaving again. The letter was from Kate’s mother. The two of them did not in general correspond frequently, so she looked at the missive with a mixture of surprise and curiosity.
She had last written to her mother before leaving London, and it had only been a quick response to inform her that she had received her mother’s letter regarding the inheritance issue and would be spending the better part of the summer at Wyndcross with the Croftes.
She felt Lady Crofte’s eyes resting on her.
“It is a letter from my mother,” Kate said, glad for a reason to change the subject.
“Ah,” said Lady Crofte, this time wearing a more genuine smile. “I hope she is well.”
Kate opened the letter.
Dearest Kate,
I write only to inform you that Alfred Dimmock has been located...
Kate’s eyes widened.
...living in the West Indies. Despite what we had been given to think, he is in quite robust health, attested to clearly by his six children, three of whom are boys.
The number six was underlined twice. Kate exhaled with relief, but she could imagine her mother’s chagrin.
“Is everything well?” Lady Crofte’s voice was infused with curiosity.
“Oh, yes. Very much so.”
She reread the words. The knowledge she wouldn’t have to explain to her mother why she was refusing a fortune removed a great weight from her shoulders. That the decision was made for her was no small relief—after all, it was one thing to think on refusing a fortune. To give it up in practice was another thing entirely.
“I am so glad,” Lady Crofte said kindly. “Good news, I take it?”
“Yes. My stepfather has a brother with whom he has not spoken in many years. He was believed to no longer be living but has just been found alive and well in the West Indies.”
“Your concern for the man’s well-being is moving, my dear,” said Lady Crofte in an amused and indulgent voice.
“Oh, I have never met him. My relief is due to the fact that the question of my stepfather’s inheritance has been decided. It was uncertain for a time, and it is always a relief to know one way or the other.”
Lady Crofte’s smile wavered, staring strangely at Kate, who sipped her chocolate as she read the final lines of the letter.
