Happily Ever Afters Guaranteed (13 page)

Travel in the nineteenth century was slow and
tedious. Coaches weren’t really meant for comfort. Most of all,
“road” was a four-letter word.

I’d given up on sleep after the umpteenth
time that the jostling of the coach knocked my head into its wall.
I’d gone to the floor twice, each time struggling back to my seat
with help from Ruth, who sat next to me. Minerva, leaning against
the opposite corner of the coach, was either a heavy sleeper or
pretending not to notice my discomfort.

I stared out the window, feeling as if we’d
been traveling for days, though I knew it to be only hours. None of
my pleading could convince Minerva to stay at the cottage, once the
men made up their minds. Actually, she seemed relieved.

Frantically, I tried everything I could think
of to get back home, but no matter how many times I stepped through
the garden gate, nothing happened. Finally, I’d been forced to give
up when Ruth came for me and escorted me to the waiting coach.

The men rode horseback in front, and I
desperately wished for the chance to join them, instead of enduring
this torture inside.

Now Ruth looked at me strangely, her eyebrows
drawn together in concern. “Miss Matilda, are you ill?” she
whispered.

“No.”

“You seem… different.”

I sighed. What could it hurt to tell her?
“You’ll probably think I’m crazy, but I’m not the Matilda you think
I am.”

Her eyes widened as I told my story. At the
end, I sat back and waited for her to say something. And
waited.

“I don’t know how to believe you, miss.” She
glanced across to Minerva, as if her hushed voice might waken the
other woman. “I’ve never heard anything of the like before.”

“It’s the truth.”

“Miss Matilda—”

“Mattie.”

“Miss Mattie, are you sure this isn’t about
the scandals? A way to escape them?”

All of a sudden it became hard to breathe.
“What scandals?”

Her eyes scanned my face. Looking for what?
Her browns were drawn down in concern. “Perhaps it is not my place
to say, miss.”

“Please, Ruth. I think I need to know.”

When she spoke, her face reflected just how
earnest she was. “You were engaged to be married. Mr. – ah, the man
was found with…” Her words slowed and once again she glanced across
to where Minerva slept. I didn’t think my sister had so much as
twitched but perhaps Ruth was afraid of reprisal for speaking so
freely if she woke up. She continued in almost a whisper. “He was
found with another woman. In a compromising situation.”

I covered my face with my hands to hide the
sudden moisture in my eyes. She touched my shoulder gently. I
couldn’t find the breath to speak. Something thudded in my ears,
blocking out all other sounds. I realized it was my heart.

“I-I’m okay,” I lied, forcing my words
through stiff lips. I placed my hands in my lap, wound my fingers
together. I didn’t look at her, afraid she’d know that I wasn’t
telling the truth. “I just need to think through this.” I turned my
face to the carriage window and pretended to watch the passing
scenery, though I couldn’t see anything through the tears that
blurred my vision.

Slowly, I regained control of my rioting
emotions. With each trembling breath I took, I fought against the
voices that whispered “you’re not good enough” and “no one will
ever love you.”

God, why? I didn’t understand why a loving
God would let this happen to me. Sure, I hadn’t expected to be over
Jared so soon, but hearing Ruth’s tale and knowing that I – well,
really, my ancestor – had been betrayed as well fanned my own pain
into a burning that sat in the pit of my stomach.

A long time passed before I felt that I could
speak again. When I chanced to look, Ruth watched me with tears in
her eyes. “I’m so sorry, miss.”

“You said scandals, plural.”

She bit her bottom lip, clearly distressed.
“You should talk to your sister. I am just a maid, after all.”

I took her hand in mine and squeezed it.
“Something inside tells me that you are more a part of this family
than you know. Please tell me.”

Her eyes fell to our clasped hands. “After
the… first scandal… your father changed. He became angry and
withdrawn. It is rumored that he gambled away t’living your uncle
gave him. And that his creditors caused his death.”

I didn’t know how to process this additional
hurt. I would have loved to know a father figure, having only Aunt
Donna since my tenth birthday. Obviously Minerva still mourned both
situations, too.

Before I could formulate something else to
say, the coach slowed and a look out the window confirmed that we
were arriving at a gorgeous mansion of white stone. Minerva roused
with a start. I gripped Ruth’s forearm.

“I need you to help me,” I whispered, knowing
our time was running out.

She hesitated.

“Minerva will be upset if I make any more
mistakes, won’t she?”

She nodded, biting her lip again.

“Then I need you to tell me how to act, what
to do. I’ll never make it long enough to find a way back home if
you don’t.”

She agreed in a muted voice. Our discussion
was over.

I’d never been so happy to arrive at a
destination, not even at my arrival in Manchester after all the
flight delays. The coach door opened and Mr. McCullough was there
to hand us down. I stood and stretched, admiring the sun setting in
a beautiful haze while he handed out Minerva and then Ruth.

Somehow Ruth managed to miss the step and
fall into Tristan's chest. He steadied her, looking directly into
her face for the briefest of moments, before setting her on her
feet. She cleared her throat nervously and attempted to straighten
her dress. Poor girl. I knew just how she felt. I had a tendency to
be clumsy at the most inopportune times.

As the group moved away, I pulled myself from
the sunset and turned to take a full view of Howarth Park. The
mansion’s many windows reflected the last light of the day. Two
wings, one on each side, flowed from the main part of the house.
The grounds were impeccable, with sculpted shrubs and trees
interspersing a lawn that stretched as far as the eye could
see.

It was beautiful. And I was going to stick
out like a sore thumb.

We climbed the stone stairs and Ruth slipped
away with another girl. Andrew waited on the top step, looking
imposing with his stormy brow and dark features. “My parents wait
to greet you in the parlor.” His glance skittered over me, not
landing. I thought he seemed irritated, judging by the set of his
jaw.

Nervous now, I trailed the two men and
Minerva through cool corridors, hurrying to keep up with Andrew’s
long gait. I studied the back of his head, ignoring the no doubt
fine furnishings that surrounded us. I wouldn’t know how to
properly admire them, not being a history buff like my aunt.

Instead, I noted Andrew's hair that curled
just a bit above his collar. When he turned a corner, I glimpsed
his profile for just a second, with the jaw that so enamored me at
our first meeting.

We neared the end of the hallway. A young man
wearing knee breaches, a starched shirt and velvet jacket stood at
attention and opened the double doors for us.

Inside the room, a man and woman both rose
from their stuffed chairs near the fireplace. The man could have
been Andrew in twenty years, with the same tall build and only a
few gray hairs interspersing his dark locks. The woman was of
average height, slender, with a ready smile, though she was a bit
pale. Her dark hair coiled into a braid that wound around the back
of her head.

As the introductions were made, another set
of double doors across the room burst open and two young women
appeared. “Tristan!” “Andrew!” Their voices rang out at the same
time before their father cleared his voice.

“Sorry, papa,” the taller of the two looked
contrite for a moment but then grinned at her brother and cousin.
“It’s just that we could not wait to hear all about Andrew’s trip
to Manchester.”

The second girl, whose red hair favored
Tristan more than any other family member, stared openly at me. “We
didn’t realize we had guests.”

Andrew introduced the girls by their first
names. Anna, seventeen, informed us she’d been dying for some
female companionship. Her brother nudged her but she only gave him
an impertinent grin and hugged his waist.

Ella, thirteen, seemed a bit shy and didn’t
speak to myself or Minerva directly. She, too, accepted an embrace
from her brother.

Overwhelmed by the long carriage ride and the
things I’d learned from Ruth, I was content to take a seat in the
corner and sip the tea that was handed to me.

Andrew sat opposite me on a long sofa,
flanked by his sisters. Anna whispered something to him and their
dark heads bent close together as they conferred.

I looked down into my teacup. I'd rather
analyze the murky liquid than give him the satisfaction of glancing
up to find me watching him.

Plus, I was having a hard time watching him
interact with his sister. The easy camaraderie they obviously was
something I dearly missed from my growing up years. And something
that it appeared Minnie and I didn’t have.

I did my best to stay out of the
conversation, letting it flow around me. Tristan addressed Minerva
several times, each time eliciting a murmured response and a
blush.

Andrew did not speak to either of us. I
wondered if he still seethed, as he had done when Tristan informed
us that we would be returning to Howarth Park with the men. Was he
angry that we had interrupted his planned errand, or for another
reason?

The little gathering broke up soon enough and
a maid appeared to take Minerva and me to the room we would share.
I found myself dawdling in the hallway, taking in the marble busts
and portraits that I hadn’t noticed on the way in. A portrait of
Andrew, in particular, caught my eye and I paused to study it. The
painter hadn’t done justice to his fine features, but they had
managed to capture his intense eyes.

When I looked up again, I realized I was
alone in the hallway, and that I didn’t know the way to my room. I
started off in the direction I thought Minerva and the maid had
gone, but I hadn’t gone far when the sound of voices stopped me. I
recognized Andrew’s baritone easily.

“I don’t like it.”

“What would you have rather done, left them
there? You know as well as I that the Briggs girls need a chaperone
until their uncle can claim them.”

I moved away from the open doorway, not
intending to eavesdrop, until Andrew’s answer froze my feet to the
floor. I concealed myself the best I could behind a large potted
plant.

“Yes.”

“I do not understand your cruel
attitude.”

“Let me enlighten you, then, cousin. I do not
wish our family name tied to theirs in any way. Their uncle is a
swindler—”

“Why, because he owns a few mills?”

“Nay, I have other reasons to think so. Not
to mention the scandals that surround those two women.”

“Rumors, that’s all they are.”

“Perhaps. You know that our neighbors will
talk, and I cannot stand to think that my name could be tied to
that pair of bluestockings. Why, I’ve heard that the eldest Miss
Briggs took over her father’s affairs after his death. And the
youngest – she thought to shoe my horse!”

I stifled the gasp that rose in my
throat.

“And did a right fine job of it, if I do say
so.”

“I’ll let my own farrier decide that in the
morning. I do not want to be bothered with either Miss Briggs and I
advise you to stay away from them as well.”

Chapter 5

I found out that proper ladies don’t deal in
business or work with their hands, except for needlework or
sketching. They don't make their own decisions. Most of all, proper
ladies never do anything fun. Whatsoever.

After three dreary, rainy days of
needlepoint, reading and playing the pianoforte – or should I say,
knotted threads, napping and missed notes – the sun finally came
out. I wheedled until Anna and Ella agreed to play a game of
cricket with me. I didn’t know the rules, but I wasn’t going to let
that technicality stop me from having some fun.

Minnie refused to play with us. She and I
still weren’t on speaking terms, and I’d been unable to pump any
more details about our situation from Ruth. Well, there was no way
I was going to let my sister and her black mood ruin this gorgeous
day.

The girls spent a quarter of an hour
explaining the finer points of hitting the ball and the purposes of
the wickets. I’d never seen a bat like the one they used, with its
round handle and flat head. We couldn’t play a real game with only
three players, but Ella insisted we could practice batting and
bowling.

I watched as Anna, with her tongue sticking
out the side of her mouth in concentration, smacked the ball so
that it sailed clean over my head. “Andrew is a terribly good
catch, you know.”

Huh? Where had that thought come from?

“I dare say he doesn’t intend to be caught,”
Ella chimed in, as she trotted after the ball. “I once heard him
tell Tristan that he won’t marry at least until his thirtieth
birthday.”

Anna made a sound that sounded close to a
snort. She didn’t believe her sister? “That is five years from now.
Much can happen during that period of time.” She winked at me. “And
I think I know who could change his mind.”

Heat climbed my neck and into my face. It
definitely wasn't from the sun. “I know you’re not talking about
me. Believe me when I say that neither one of us are interested in
the other.” The conversation between Andrew and Tristan I’d
overheard the other night came to mind, increasing the warmth in my
face. To think that I’d actually been attracted to that…that
snob.