Tuesday's Child (Heroines Born on Each Day of the Week Book 3) (6 page)

Dominic took the seat separated from Lady Castleton’s by a low table. “Though I am flattered, you are mistaken, I was not in danger. I learned to swim with on my father’s estate.” Poignant memories of splashing his older brothers, and other shared pursuits, which included fishing, shooting and riding, clutched at his heart. When young, who would have thought Robert, whom he had looked up to, would, due to depravity, be doomed to die at such a young age, and that Benjamin and Pascoe would be killed in the long drawn out war against the French. His jaw clenched. What did the lady know of war?

Harriet’s soft voice broke into his thoughts. “Is something amiss?”

“No, I am sorry, my thoughts strayed.”

Her eyes expressed concern. “Sad ones?”

“Yes, memories of my two older brothers. One died at the Battle of Trafalgar, the other at Salamanca.”

A shadow seemed to cross her face. “I sympathise with your losses. My husband died at the Battle of Fuentes de Onoro and my father,” her voice quavered, “at the Battle of Toulouse.” Not before he glimpsed tears in her eyes, she looked down at her hands. 

“How tragic. Please accept my condolences.”

“Oh, although I miss them every day, I am more fortunate than some widows. I have my son to console me.” She smiled and gazed at him, her eyes bright with those incipient tears before she spoke again. “You must not pity me. My father-in-law has taken us in, and we should be exceedingly grateful to him.” A blush stole across her cheeks. “Indeed, I am much obliged to him.”

The footman served wine and biscuits, then returned to his position by the door.

When people confided in him, familiar with various nuances in their speech, Dominic sensed they found it difficult to completely unburden themselves. “I sympathise with your mother for the loss of her husband,” he responded gently to encourage her.

“Thank you.” Her hands trembled. “Thank you, but Mamma, died of a fever in Spain six years ago.”

He raised his eyebrows. “She followed the drum?”

“Yes. I fear this will shock you. From the day my mother eloped, regardless of hardship, she could not bear to be separated from my father. They were devoted to each other. He always called her his good angel.”

Somewhat surprised, although this was far from the most deplorable confession he ever received, Dominic sipped some more of the excellent Madeira.

“Even if poor Mamma could tolerate anything for my father’s sake, until the day she died, she found it hard to accept that her parents had disowned her. After all, it was not a crime to marry for love. To the end of her days she hoped to be reconciled with them.”

“She was to be pitied,” Dominic commented, for he could not imagine his father and mother denying the existence of any one of their children under any circumstances.

“Yes, she was to be pitied,” Lady Castleton agreed in a subdued tone. “I hope you will not consider me mawkish when I say that, in spite of the problems faced by an army wife, who travels with her husband, Mamma never complained because she loved Papa so much,” she explained.

Dominic leaned forward, quelling his impulse to clasp one of her small hands. “I don’t think you are maudlin. Despite the claims made by most members of the ton that the prime reason for marriage is not love. Fortunately, my parents doted on each other from the moment they first met. If my grandparents disapproved of the match I think, like your father and mother, mine would have eloped.”

He sighed. Papa was sixty-eight years old and Mamma was sixty-two. Inevitably, whichever one of his parents died first the other would be broken-hearted. At their ages, out of love for them, and duty to his entire family, he must marry and, if God willed it, have a son. Unbidden came the thought his parents would consider a match with Lady Castleton unsuitable because she was not his equal by birth.

Her ladyship’s exquisite face broke into a tender smile. “Please forgive me, Mister Markham, I don’t know what it is about you that invited me to confide in you.”

“Perhaps it is because I am an ordained minister of the church. Please, don’t hesitate to be frank whenever you wish. I would be privileged to be of service to you.”

Her eyes widened a little when she stared into his. As though she cast a powerful spell he could not wrench his gaze from those clear blue depths. Nevertheless, he managed to speak. “Thank you for your hospitality. Duty calls me so I must bid you farewell.”

Lady Castleton rose. “Good day to you, sir.”

Released from the inexplicable magic that seemed to bind him to her, Dominic stood. For a moment, they observed each other. This time, he did not allow himself to be transfixed by her allure.

* * *

On the way back to the rectory, Dominic remembered he had intended to ask about Bessie’s situation. Yet, fascinated by Lady Castleton’s charm and grace he forgot the unfortunate nursemaid.

He hoped the earl had issued orders for her release. If not, although the nurse was an innocent victim of a child’s lie, she might languish in jail for months before she appeared before the magistrate at the next assizes.

Dominic’s jaw tightened. His good-natured father did not like Pennington, and according to gossip, Pennington was unpopular amongst his fellow peers and his tenant farmers. However, in spite of the earl’s unpopularity, Clarencieux Abbey was the talk of the neighbourhood and beyond. People came from miles around to gaze at and comment on the building. Young ladies prone to reading works of fiction, shuddered at the sight of it. He presumed they recalled Mrs Radcliffe’s novel, The Mysteries of Udolfo, set in such a building with gargoyles and massive stone walls.

Dominic hoped Lady Castleton did not share their taste for the book. If she did, her imagination might be exacerbated by having a bedroom in a gothic mansion, and the horror described in that novel, besides Clara Reeves’s book The Old English Baron. Reading such dreadful tales might cause her to have many sleepless nights.

His mare’s ears pricked up. Deep in thought, he allowed her to amble towards the rectory. When they neared it, she broke into a trot. Dominic took command of her. Within little more than five minutes, he dismounted outside the stable and handed the reins to his groom. He strode across the small yard, and through the ivy-wreathed gateway, which led to a path around the side of the building.

“Ah,” breathed Gwenifer, who opened a side door of the building before he could knock, “I thought I heard the clatter of hooves on cobblestones.”

“You have sharp ears,” he commented, appreciative of the sweet perfume of lavender planted on either side of the door, which she opened wider for him to step inside.

“Not particularly sharp ones, Dominic. I was sitting in my boudoir by the open window so I could not fail to hear the sound.”

He removed his hat and gloves and handed them together with his riding crop to a maidservant.

When he first became rector of the parish he intended to employ footmen. However, Gwenifer pointed out it might appear pretentious for a mere clergyman to employ more servants than some of the local gentry. Nevertheless, he employed a cook, maids, a groom, a stable boy, a coachman and a manservant, who also served as his valet whenever necessary.

“What happened, Dominic? Why did you send for a change of clothes? The earl’s servant told me you jumped into the lake to save Lord Castleton. Is it true?”

“Yes.” He held up his hand. “I don’t wish to speak of it.”

“Please do, for you are a hero!” Gwenifer protested.

Dominic laughed. “No such thing.”

“You are too modest. Oh! Don’t frown at me,” she scolded. “I shall say no more concerning the subject, even so, you cannot prevent me being proud of you.”

“Gwenifer!”

She shrugged. “If you insist, I shall say no more about it. Besides, I am glad you have returned home. Mrs Cooper and her daughter are here to see you. They insisted on waiting for you. Both of them seemed overset, so I sent them to the kitchen, and gave instructions for cook to give them some barley water. I hope you approve.”

He kissed her cheek. “Of course I do. You are the mistress of my house for so long as you care to live with me.”

“Thank you, no lady could ask for a better brother, but I am only in charge until you marry. You must not think I would stay here and, so to speak, tread on your wife’s toes.”

Dominic sighed. If he tied the knot, he wanted his marriage to be based on the same mutual love and respect his parents shared.  Unbidden, a picture of Pennington’s daughter-in-law sneaked into his mind. “By the way, Gwenifer, have you called on Lady Castleton? I think you would like her.”

“No.” His sister eyed him with a speculative glint in her green eyes so like his own in shape and colour. “I will visit her if you particularly wish me to.”

“Not particularly, I merely thought it would be kind of you. Lady Castleton is a young widow, who has a small son.” Aware of increased colour warming his cheeks, he turned aside and pretended to scrutinise a watercolour of the church.

“I know. After the earl brought them to the abbey, the lady was the talk of the county, at least, this part of it. The rush to make her acquaintance was so vulgar that I did not join it.” Mischievous light appeared in Gwenifer’s eyes “Now the furore has died down, I would be happy to visit her at your request.”

Dominic pretended to clear his throat before he spoke. “If you wish to, Gwenifer. Now, please send a maidservant to summon Mrs Cooper and Bessie to the library.”

Before his sister could cross-question him about Lady Castleton, he left the room.

While he waited for the mother and daughter, he tapped his fingers on his desk. Be honest, you like Lady Castleton. No, you more than like her.

The door opened. A maidservant bobbed a curtsy. “Mrs and Miss Cooper to see you, sir.”

Dominic stood. “Come in. Please sit yourselves down in front of my desk.” He wrinkled his nose. There had been no need for them to be announced. The smell of stale sweat from their gowns sufficed.

Seated again, he looked thoughtfully at them. Of course, he knew each member of his congregation but, until now, he had not taken particular notice of Bessie Cooper, a plump young woman with thick black hair. 

“I am pleased to see you at liberty, Miss Cooper.” He sat down. “Please tell me how I can help you and Mrs Cooper.”

Bessie looked at her mother, who nodded at her. “The earl wrote to me, sir.”

“You can read?”

“Yes, sir, my parents paid for me to learn the three R’s at the dame school in the village.”

“Do you want to tell me what the earl wrote?”

Bessie nodded. “His lordship ordered me to go back to the abbey.” Clearly ill at ease, she fidgeted on her chair. “Mind you, sir, he only wants me to because Lord Arthur has been ill and is asking for me.”

“Disgraceful, I call it, Mister Markham.” Mrs Cooper sniffed, presumably to express her disgust. “Not even an apology for Bessie’s arrest.

Dominic did not find that hard to believe. Pennington was much too high in the instep to express regret for wrongful arrest to a servant. He waited for the women to speak.

“Disgraceful,” Mrs Cooper repeated. She nodded her head, emphasising the word. “The thing is, if Bessie doesn’t return to the abbey she won’t have a reference. I’m sure you know, sir, that without one she won’t be able to find another position.”

“Ma’s right, Mister Markham.” Bessie shuddered. “Maybe I shouldn’t say that I don’t think the earl’s right in the head.” She hesitated before she spoke again. “Only someone who is hare-brained would encourage Lord Arthur to think he can do no wrong. It’s wicked. The earl’s ruining the child.” She leaned forward. “What’s more, Lord Castleton’s mother’s the sweetest lady imaginable. Unlike her pa-in-law she’s never too proud to be polite to us servants. I’m sorry for her.”

Dominic frowned. “Why do you pity her ladyship?” he asked, more loudly than he had intended.

“Whenever she punishes Lord Arthur for being naughty, the earl objects. Now, please tell me what to do, sir. I’ve too many younger brothers and sisters for ma and pa to keep me at home.”

An image of Bessie’s younger brothers and sisters, with faces scrubbed until cheeks, rosy as apples, lined up in a pew on Sundays, formed in Dominic’s mind. Probably, the Coopers could not afford to clothe and feed Bessie as well as the rest of their large brood. “Miss Cooper, I think you and your mother already know you should return to Clarencieux to take care of Lord Castleton.”

“Yes, we do.” Mrs Cooper clasped her hands in front of her ample bosom. “Despite his lordship’s wishes, my daughter doesn’t want to go back there, so I did think you might give Bessie a reference, you being the rector and all.”

“I am sorry, Mrs Cooper, I could not because Bessie has not worked for me. However, if she decides not to return to work for the earl I can ask Lady Castleton to provide one.”

Mother and daughter exchanged glances. “Well, sir, begging your pardon,” Mrs Cooper began, “we hoped you could recommend Bessie to a lady in need of a nursemaid.”

“I am sorry; I don’t know of one. Perhaps my sister does. I shall ask her.” He stood to indicate they should leave. “Tomorrow, I shall call on Lady Castleton on Bessie’s behalf.”

Mother and daughter stood. “Thank you, Mister Markham,” Bessie said, “you’re kind.”