A Wealthy Widow

‘I shouldn’t think so. I don’t believe she likes him. Look at the way she shrugged off his hand then. I think she is in some distress, Richard. Pray let us go and rescue her from his attentions.’

‘By Jove, yes,’ Captain Hernshaw agreed eagerly. ‘Can’t have that toad monopolising the most beautiful woman in the room—present company excepted, Mel.’

‘I know Arabella is more beautiful,’ Melinda told him with a smile. ‘Harry says I’m pretty and I am—but Belle is special.’

Captain Hernshaw held his tongue. He was in perfect agreement with his sister-in-law’s summation, and more than a little smitten with the widow, but he did not hold out much hope of her feeling the same. He was not truly in desperate need of a rich wife, for he had expectations. However, he thought it might still be too soon to offer for her and he did not wish to cause her distress. He had seen the deep grief in her eyes when she thought she was unobserved, even though her smile came bursting through like a ray of sunlight when something pleased or amused her. He frowned as he noticed the look on her face when her cousin leaned forward to whisper in her ear. She did not care for such intimacy, that was clear, but she was finding it difficult to keep him at bay.

She raised her head as he and Melinda approached, a smile of welcome on her lips. Hernshaw felt a sudden pounding in his breast, for she was truly lovely and he wished that her smile had been for him rather than his sister-in-law.

‘Melinda dearest,’ Arabella said and moved forward to kiss her friend’s cheek. ‘How are you? You look wonderful.’

‘So do you,’ Melinda replied. ‘Please, Belle, you must come and sit with me. Sir Ralph will spare you to me, will you not, sir?’

‘Arabella was going to sit with me…’ Ralph’s sullen look made him appear even more unattractive. Although tall and well made, he was fleshy of face and his sandy hair was already thinning at the temples. More than that, though, were the marks of indulgence in his complexion, the beads of sweat on his forehead and the faint odour of perspiration that enamated from his person.

‘No, I believe I have not agreed,’ Arabella said. ‘Besides, I do not think you would care for Madame Casciano’s recital, cousin.’

‘Nor I,’ Captain Hernshaw said for he had seen the flash of temper in the other man’s eyes. He was motivated to self-sacrifice for Arabella’s sake. ‘Come and give me a game of billiards, sir. I think we may leave the ladies to themselves until supper.’

Reluctantly, Ralph gave way to the firm pressure on his arm, though he threw a dark look at Arabella as she went off with her friend. He had been trying to force his company on her ever since they left the house, but he could not insist when she had said publicly that she wished to sit with Lady Hernshaw.

‘Very well,’ he said rudely, ‘though I am not much in the mood for it. I shall take myself off in an hour or so. I have better things to do than dance attendance on my mother.’

Captain Hernshaw restrained himself. He would have liked to land a facer on the other man and could have done it easily enough, but was too polite to cause a scene in the house of his sister-in-law’s aunt. However, should the chance arise at a more suitable venue, he would be quite happy to wipe the floor with Ralph Tate!

‘I have been so looking forward to this evening,’ Melinda said, hugging Arabella’s arm. ‘I was not well enough to come up for the Season, but I am here now and I was so pleased to learn that you had decided to visit Lady Tate. We shall be able to shop together and I dare say we shall meet everywhere for my aunt and yours share the same circle of friends.’

‘Yes, I am sure we shall,’ Arabella agreed. ‘I was very pleased when Aunt Hester told me you would be here—and I want to thank you for rescuing me from my cousin.’

‘I thought he was making a nuisance of himself,’ Melinda said with a little smile of amusement. ‘He is a horrid little man, isn’t he? He asked me to marry him once, before Harry proposed, and was most offended when I told him that I would not—as if I would!’ She shuddered. ‘He is awful. I do not know how you can bear him, Belle.’

‘I have to tread carefully,’ Arabella said with a little frown. ‘He is my cousin, after all. I do not wish to offend Aunt Hester, even though I find him difficult at times.’

Melinda smothered her retort. In her opinion it would be much better if Lady Tate knew her son for the odious creature he was. She might then be strong enough to refuse his frequent requests for money.

‘Oh, well,’ she said. ‘I dare say you know how to manage him, Belle. After all, no one can force you to marry him, can they?’

‘I would resist with my last breath,’ Arabella said. ‘I do not believe either he or my aunt can hope for it. I have made it clear that I do not wish to marry again.’

‘Oh, but you should,’ Melinda said, objecting to this instantly. ‘There are lots of nice gentlemen you could choose, Belle. You don’t have to marry Ralph.’

‘I certainly shall not,’ Arabella said and laughed. ‘Enough of me, Mel. Tell me, why are you in town? Is it just to buy some new clothes? I have decided to visit my seamstress while I am here. I do not need so very much, but I think I shall buy some new gowns for the winter.’

‘Oh…’ Melinda looked at her, a faint blush in her cheeks. She lowered her voice to a whisper. ‘I came to see a doctor…a special one. I miscarried in the summer, you see, and my dear Harry wants to make sure I am quite well again.’

‘I am so sorry,’ Arabella said, instantly sympathetic. She too spoke in hushed tones—it was not something to be discussed too openly in public. ‘What a disappointment for you. I fear it does happen and it may be best to consult a really good doctor. He will be able to advise you concerning the future.’

‘Yes, well, I have, and he says there is no reason I shouldn’t go ahead and try again, so I shall.’ Melinda dimpled mischievously, a note of laughter in her voice now. ‘I wrote to Harry to tell him the news. He is quite pleased with the doctor’s advice, as you may imagine.’

‘Yes, I dare say.’

Melinda hesitated, glancing at her friend curiously. ‘If you do not marry, you will not have children, Belle. Have you thought about that?’

‘Yes. It is a sorrow to me that I did not conceive Ben’s child.’ Her eyes darkened with emotion, her voice low and throbbing.

‘Oh, I am so sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything.’

‘Do not apologise, Mel. I have decided that I must speak about these things. It is true that it still hurts me, but I do not want Ben’s memory to die and sometimes—’ She broke off, shaking her head. There were times now when she could not recall Ben’s face and that frightened her. She had lost him once; she did not want to lose her precious memories.

Their hostess was asking everyone to take their seats. Small sofas and elegant elbow chairs had been arranged about the room to give a clear view of the dais that had been set up for the convenience of the musicians. The evening was to begin with the soprano Madame Casciano’s recital and would continue with pieces from Handel’s Water Music and then everyone’s favourite, Mozart.

Arabella and Melinda settled down on a small sofa, quickly becoming engrossed in the music. Because she seldom attended an evening such as this in the country, Arabella was particularly enjoying herself and it was not until the interval that she sensed someone was staring at her. Looking up, she saw it was her cousin and he was staring in a way that made her feel decidedly uncomfortable. She turned away. She did not care for the calculating expression in his eyes. He had been behaving in an irritating manner from the moment he arrived to escort them here this evening.

‘Shall we go in to supper?’ she asked of her companion as they stood up.

‘Yes, of course.’ Melinda glanced at Sir Ralph and frowned. ‘Oh yes, I see. Poor Belle! If you are not careful, he will spoil your visit. Odious man!’

‘I shall not allow him to spoil anything,’ Arabella said, lifting her head proudly. She linked arms elegantly with her friend and they walked towards the dining room, where a cold supper awaited the guests. ‘I believe I am hungry.’ She gave Ralph a cool nod in passing, determined not to let his presence throw a cloud over her. ‘What shall we do tomorrow, Mel? I have no engagements yet.’

‘Harry is coming up to join me, but he will not arrive until the evening,’ Melinda said and looked happy. ‘I think I should like to go shopping.’

‘Yes, that would be most enjoyable,’ Arabella agreed and gave her arm a squeeze. ‘Oh, look, here is Captain Hernshaw coming to join us.’

He greeted them both warmly and offered to help choose their supper from amongst the array of delicious foods on offer. When he had selected the choicest titbits, he asked one of the circling waiters to carry it all to the table they had found by a window overlooking the gardens. It was a pretty view—small lanterns twinkled amongst the trees, giving them a magical atmosphere.

Arabella was relieved that her cousin made no attempt to join them at supper and even more so when her aunt came to sit with them, telling her that Ralph had taken himself off to meet some friends. She thought that perhaps he had realised that she did not care for his company and would have more pride than to persist with his pursuit of her. She had discovered in the past that a certain reserve of manner was usually enough to deter any but the most thick-skinned fortune hunter.

The remainder of the evening had passed very pleasantly and Arabella was smiling as she prepared for bed that night. She had enjoyed herself a great deal; though she suspected that Melinda would try to promote the interests of her brother-in-law when she could, it did not matter. She found him excellent company, but was not in the least interested in becoming his wife. However, Captain Hernshaw was not the kind of man to push himself forward without encouragement, and, although prepared to be friendly, she had given him no cause to hope.

Getting into bed, Arabella snuffed out her candle. She was tired and thought that she would soon sleep, but as she closed her eyes she found herself thinking of Charles Hunter. It was odd the way he had shut her out so suddenly that morning at the inn. Perhaps there was a secret heartache that made him wish to keep his distance from others—something that had caused those dark shadows beneath his eyes.

‘Well sir, I dunno as there’s much more I can tell you,’ Fred Lightfoot said and looked into his half-empty tankard thoughtfully. ‘As I said to his lordship, I knew there was summat going on in the woods that night. It had happened afore, see—but there were summat different about it that time. Sir Montague were a rum cove, if you ask me. A lot of them girls what they had up there were whores and it were just a bit of a lark, no real harm done—but the girl I found wandering mazed was gentlefolk. I knew it as soon as I saw her and that’s why I took her to a safe place I knew of. She didn’t seem to understand what was happening to her and I couldn’t look after a girl like that, sir. Like a frightened child she was, whimpering and shrinking from my touch, even though I told her I would not hurt her. So I went off to fetch my Mary and—’

‘When you returned she had disappeared.’ Charles frowned at him. He seemed honest and clearly Daniel trusted him. ‘Could Forsythe have come and taken her away?’

‘I doubt it, sir,’ Fred said and shook his head. ‘That cottage belongs to me now my grandfather’s dead and Sir Montague knew nothing of it. I intended to do it up for me and Mary when I got the time, but I’m going to sell it now we’ve got this place with the Earl of Cavendish.’ He scratched his head. ‘I’m afraid that’s all I can tell you. It ain’t much, I know—but that girl what drowned herself, she were a village lass. And that’s all I know, sir.’

‘I was hoping for more,’ Charles said and frowned. ‘Can you recall what she looked like—the girl you helped?’

‘Yes, sir. Lingered in my mind she has, because I felt I should have done more. A pretty girl, sir, with soft fair hair hanging halfway down her back and eyes that were more green than blue…and I noticed a little mark on her left temple. It might have been a scar or a birthmark, I can’t rightly be sure.’

Charles sat forward, touching his left temple with his forefinger. ‘Sarah had a scar there. She hit her head when playing in the nursery once. My mother dismissed the nurse who allowed it, though it was not truly the woman’s fault.’ He took a shuddering breath. ‘I believe it must have been her—the description fits her perfectly. My poor sister! What can have happened to her? I have been searching for months and this is the first time I have heard anything positive. Where could she have gone after you left her?’

‘I wish as I could help you find her, sir,’ Fred said. ‘She wandered off that night alone, but I doubt she could have gone far. It might be a good idea to start a search in the surrounding district, sir. I’ve got an aunt lives in the village of St Tydyll, not more than eighteen miles distant from Sir Montague’s estate. Not much Madge Lightfoot doesn’t know about what goes on for miles around. I could send her a letter, sir, see if she has heard anything of a girl being found.’

‘Thank you, I shall be grateful for any information Mrs Lightfoot can give me, but now that I know where to concentrate my efforts I shall set my agents on the case.’ Charles signalled to the innkeeper. He was suddenly filled with new hope. Sarah had somehow escaped from the rogues who had thought to use her in their evil rites and he could not think that God would have been so merciful only to let her perish in some other way. ‘If Sarah is still alive, I shall find her. Someone must know where she is.’

‘If she found someone kind hearted enough to take her in, she may be safe, sir—though ’tis a wonder that she has not let you know where to find her.’