Chapter Thirteen #2
It took Verity quite some time to settle into the journey westwards to Luxborough.
For most of the earlier part of it she remained slumped in a corner, suffering from an excess of emotion and a night spent awake and waiting for an assault on the defenses she’d erected against her bedroom doors, despite his promise not to bother her.
But that assault had never come, and she’d lain awake in bed puzzled by her own disappointment at the lack of it.
Which had in turn annoyed her to the extent that sleep had eluded her for most of the night. Which meant now she was exhausted.
When she at last pulled back the blind from the coach window, the countryside at first seemed to be much as she’d seen it from the mail coach that had brought her and Papa up from Dover just a few weeks since, only this time viewed in daylight.
The day being cloudy with no sign of the sun, she had no way of discerning in which direction they were traveling, so for a while settled back into silent repose.
She had a lot to think about before she and Bessie, who was asleep in a corner, reached their destination.
The road sign to Oxford finally alerted her that much time had passed and they must be nearly at their destination.
She turned to her new maid, who’d woken some time ago. “Bessie,” she made her tone curt, as she was not feeling in the least bit generous to anyone associated with her new husband. “Do you know how much further we have to travel?”
Bessie, a pretty little thing who seemed very young for promotion to lady’s maid, turned wary eyes on her new mistress.
“To Luxborough, milady? I’m not very good at knowing places, I’m sorry.
” She also peered out of the window. “I don’t see nothing I can recognize yet, so I don’t think we’re close. ”
Verity pointed out of the window. “I think you’ll find we are approaching the city of Oxford right now.”
Bessie’s eyes widened. “We are? Already?”
Verity nodded. “We have just passed a road sign at that last crossroads declaring that Oxford is only ten miles off. My knowledge of the geography of England is admittedly poor, and I have no idea on which side of the city the Luxborough estate lies. Do you? Do you know the estate at all, or are you London born?”
Bessie looked pleased she could answer a question at last. “I do know where Oxford is, all right, on account of it’s being near Luxborough Park, where I was brought up.
Not in the house, I don’t mean. You see, Your Ladyship, my ma and pa work a tenant farm on the estate.
One of my brothers is a footman in the house.
Very proud of him my ma and pa are, and they will be of me, too, when they see I’m a lady’s maid now. ”
Verity swallowed. “Is Luxborough a very large estate?” Of course, it had to be, when one considered the fortune Jonathan had at his disposal annually. Silly question, but it was nice to talk to someone who knew it.
Bessie nodded with vigor. “Yes, milady. Very big. Huge. Biggest in the county, my pa says. His Lordship’s got another up in Yorkshire, but I’ve never been there. My job was up at his town house. I’ve only ever been there and at Luxborough where I started as a laundry maid when I were twelve.”
Verity compressed her lips into a thin line.
Of course, she’d seen many large houses, and one or two palaces during her adventures with Papa.
But it was quite another thing to be rapidly approaching one that was to be her new home.
She would feel like a gauche intruder, not meant to be there, she was certain.
She looked out of the window again at the fields and woodland flashing past. The coachman was maintaining a spanking pace, which must be why they’d arrived here so quickly.
Behind the clouds the sun would be starting to head towards early evening, and here and there, through a break in the cover, rays slanted down to illuminate the fields and verdant woodland.
A pretty sight, especially to a girl brought up in many of the more arid areas of Europe.
She looked back at Bessie, who seemed quite cheerful to be returning to the place of her birth. No doubt, as she’d said, she was looking forward to seeing her family again and showing off about her promotion to lady’s maid. “Do you know where Luxborough is? Which side of Oxford?”
Bessie shrugged apologetically. “I couldn’t tell you, milady.
All I know is it’s about a five mile walk into the city from my ma and pa’s farm, and that’s about a mile from the big house.
” She gave a rueful smile. “It’s a right big house.
Like I said, I was laundry maid, which was a lot of work, then underhousemaid there before his lordship had me sent up to London to work in his town house as a housemaid.
My ma and pa weren’t so happy about that.
They’d have preferred me to stay at the big house, they said. ”
Verity sank back into her seat. Jonathan had sent her to his house in Oxfordshire.
Well, at least he hadn’t sent her to the one Bessie had just told her about—in Yorkshire.
That, she assumed, although she wasn’t quite sure due to her lack of English geographical knowledge, was much further away.
But Oxford, which it seemed was a long way from London, would not be close to Papa, whom she’d hoped to be able to visit.
She grit her teeth. How constraining being a countess was.
She much preferred the life she’d led with Papa, with no one able to say no to her if she wanted to leave.
There was nothing she could do about this now.
Yet again, she’d have to make the best of what life had thrown in her way.
And at least she wouldn’t have to see the despicable, but disturbingly handsome, Jonathan every day and sleep with her bedroom door barred.
That was one blessing. Ever practical, she shoved aside her fury and allowed herself to ruminate on what Luxborough would be like.
Hope burgeoned that it would be similar to living in the Dower House with Grandmama, a period that had taken on almost magical qualities in her mind during her enforced exile on the continent with Papa.
Yes, she would make the best of this new exile, and she would like it.
In the same seedy Cheapside alehouse as they’d used before, Sylvester Wintringham, man of the cloth, sat head-to-head with Thomas Teesdale. He was not happy, and his face reflected his mood so no one, not least Thomas, could be in any doubt as to his displeasure.
“What went wrong?” he hissed at Thomas. “My nephew is married. I thought you were going to do something about it before the wedding occurred.”
Thomas glanced over his shoulder but the rest of the alehouse’s dubious clientele was busy ogling one of the women who was singing a ribald song near the bar.
“I couldn’t get near him. The man doesn’t like me.
It’s not as if we move in the same circles.
He’s been surrounded by his friends all week. ”
“You were meant to stop this wedding. You assured me you could.”
Thomas, who nurtured a real fear of his mentor, suppressed the shiver that had crept up his spine. “I could only have done what we planned if I’d been able to engage him at cards. You knew that.”
Sylvester frowned, which only added to the menace of his countenance.
“Damn it, man. You promised me you’d deal with this at long last. Just when there’s an emergency you’ve let me down.
I’ve a mind to engage someone else to carry out my plans.
” He nodded at the men cheering the singer on.
“I’m sure more than a few here would be glad to help me if I asked them and probably for a cheaper price than you. ”
Thomas swallowed. He did not want to lose the nice stipend Sylvester had been paying him. “I’ll get it done, mark my words. I’ll get it done.”
Sylvester rose to his feet, snatching his beaver hat from the table. “Then do it, before any more time passes. Or I just might employ some of the men here to not only do it for me, but also to remove you from my way. Good day to you, Teesdale.”
Thomas sat there for a few long minutes after Sylvester had left.
At length, he turned in his seat and also regarded the alehouse’s customers.
Perhaps Sylvester was right. Perhaps, instead of letting Sylvester turn to them, he could do it himself.
It might be a sight easier than his own plan which had been to challenge Jonathan to a duel, as he was himself a crack shot, when Jonathan caught him cheating at cards.
Yes, some of these cutpurses and vagabonds might come in very handy indeed.
Yes. Now, how many would he need. Half a dozen might be best.
He rose from the table and approached the revelers.