Chapter 3
Titus stood at the window watching the woman and her son until they entered a building. What kind of husband disdains a gift like that? He had no answer. He’d done his duty. What happened to the tiny painting was no longer his concern. Neither was what happened to Widow Fleming.
By the time he paid their shot, studiously ignoring the curious glances of the woman who took his money, Somerville and Weatherall were gone.
Damn. I looked forward to sharing war stories. There are a few more hours of light. Maybe I should leave now.
He stood at the entrance to the tap room, rubbing the back of his neck, trying to decide what to do for the rest of the day.
“Major!” Hooper bustled over. “Somerville left ye a note.” He handed Titus a folded piece of foolscap, and waited. Since it wasn’t sealed, he had probably read it and was waiting to see Titus’s reaction.
Titus tapped the paper to his forehead in a quasi-salute, and then turned to take the stairs two at a time. He dropped into a chair as soon as he reached his room and unfolded the message.
Brannock,
I hope you’ll take me up on the invitation to stay around for a while. Come to Normanton House tomorrow afternoon. We’ll have a good ride, and I’ll show you around the Shire. Justin can join us when school is done.
Robin Somerville
He sat for a while with no sound except his own breathing for company. Why not? What else do I have to do?
He wrote to his brother, telling him about his visit to the widow and warning him that his plans had changed. Then he reviewed what little he had packed. Clean clothing appeared to be his most acute necessity.
Tobias Hooper happily set the letter aside for the post and supplied him with directions to a laundress. He rubbed his hands with delight at the thought of having Titus’s custom for a few more nights.
By the time Titus found the laundress, stopped at the sundries store, and walked the length of Normanton, it was suppertime. Soon after, the taproom filled with farmers and locals. That suited Titus, who was tired of his own company. Of Somerville and Weatherall, he saw no sign.
Drinks flowed, and he happily told sanitized war stories, dodged mention of his brother the earl, and answered curious questions about the Fleming widow with the simple truth. He delivered a package. He didn’t know her.
The place grew more raucous as the evening went on, and the gossip and teasing became more ribald.
Stories and disputes about the local character, Captain Moonlight, became more and more outrageous.
He was a murderer. He was a kissing bandit.
He was a Robin Hood. He was a gentleman.
He was a menace to women. He only attacked the town’s merchants.
He attacked lone riders. He only attacked carriages.
He had a gang of twelve. He rode alone. By night’s end Titus could write a novel. Maybe he should.
The crowd thinned eventually, though the diehards were still going at it when Titus sought his bed. He slept the sleep of the just, and awoke the worse for drink, feeling less virtuous, and stumbled down for some coffee.
Tobias and Bess, who were already up and nauseatingly cheerful, saw to the coffee. He refused anything else except toast.
“Y’held yer own last night, Major. They liked the funny ones—the real stuff not so much. Y’done well. The ladies of the night jumping into the river to save that keg had ’em in stitches,” Hooper said.
In the light of day, that story wasn’t so funny. One of the camp followers had drowned. He must have been drunk, more so than in a long while.
“What’s with all the nonsense about this Captain Moonlight? He’d have to be here, there, and everywhere at once for all that to be true,” Titus said, sipping the hot black coffee.
“Isn’t nonsense for sure. He’s out there all right. Hit Burgess’s coach again last night. Took the man for all he had. Summ’un saw him later up the west road,” Tobias replied.
“West?” That would be close to the Flemings. Not your problem, Brannock. He smiled anyway.
“I’m feeling better. I’ll take Bess up on a plate of those pancakes, if she has jam to go with them.”
She did and the food helped to settle him. Thirty minutes later, he was riding west out of town. He’d see Somerville in a while. It wouldn’t hurt to drop by on his way and make sure the widow was safe.
* * *
Tessa hummed as she kneaded dough. Baking always calmed her nerves.
The rent would take her last penny and she worried how they would manage until her quarterly widow’s pension arrived.
For now, she had bread to bake. Robby fed their little flock of chickens and weeded the vegetable patch.
They would manage even if Burgess continued to pay her unfairly.
She had just given the dough a final hard thump, when a knock on her door sent her heart racing. Now what? She picked up a towel to wipe her hands and waited. Whoever it was knocked again.
“Mrs. Fleming, it is Titus Brannock. I won’t trouble you long. I just stopped by to be sure you and the boy were well.”
When was the last time someone cared if I was well? She shocked herself by opening the door wide and smiling at him. “As you see, sir. Why would you worry?”
He smiled back, and her toes curled.
What foolishness, Tessa. You are too old for that nonsense.
He removed his hat and inclined his head. “Captain Moonlight was on the road last night. I heard he was out this way, and I thought…”
“Captain Moonlight, whoever he is, doesn’t bother poor widows,” she replied, tightening her lips against a wide grin that threatened.
“Good to know,” he said.
They stood there staring at each other for long moments before he glanced behind her into the house.
She was tempted to invite him in, but that wouldn’t do.
Just then Robby bounced into the yard, home early from school, and gave her a hug, reminding her she lived without chaperone or companion. He smiled shyly at the major.
“It is a lovely day,” she said instead. “Would you care to sit in the sun for a while? I have no lemons for lemonade, but I have cold spring water to offer you.”
His smile widened. “That would suit me very well.”
She sent Robby off for water and gestured to the bench she had placed at an angle so she could sit and enjoy the patches of flowers she planted under the windows and next to the door.
He waited for her to sit, and she realized belatedly how narrow the bench was, barely wide enough for two. She sat as far to one side as she could, but, when he joined her, it was difficult to keep her shoulder from leaning against his.
She could think of nothing to say. Even if she could, she wasn’t sure she could get the words out.
He glanced at her hands. “You’ve been baking.”
She blushed at the sight of her hands, ungloved and speckled with bits of dough. “Bread for a few days,” she said.
That topic covered, she thought he might leave, but he did not move. He peered up at the cottage as if studying it.
“It looks solid.” He cleared his throat and went on as if to explain the observation. “Your thatch is good and your foundation is firmly set.”
Odd that he should know property. It confirmed her belief he wasn’t poor. “It is warm, dry, and comfortable. Enough for Robby and I.” As if his name conjured him, the boy appeared. He handed them cups of water. Their little dog Ginger followed him.
“May I run Ginj up the hills Mam?” he asked.
Should I keep him near? She didn’t. She let him go on his way.
“Fine boy,” Brannock murmured.
“Very,” she replied, swelling with pride. How awkward could this be?
“Is this area home to you? I mean, are your parents nearby?” he asked.
She shook her head. “They live in Lincolnshire.”
His eyes widened. “I have property in Lincolnshire. What is your family name?”
“Reynolds. My father is Harold Reynolds.” She swallowed. If he knew Lincolnshire she may as well go on. “Baron Wolfecliff. Does that surprise you?”
He peered down at her gravely. “Not in the least. You are every inch a lady in manner and speech.”
The kind words warmed her, but something in his expression alerted her that he knew her father or at least his reputation.
“He, erm, he’s a stern man,” she said. “Stern” was a mild way to put it.
“How is it you are here?” Brannock asked, the concern in his tone stopping short of pity.
She frowned at her clasped hands.
“Sorry if I’m intruding.”
She gazed back up. “You will have guessed I wasn’t welcome home after defying them by running off with a junior officer with naught to his name.
I hadn’t left Lisbon when I got a letter telling me so.
As to Normanton…” She shrugged. “We disembarked in Plymouth. I enquired of an estate agent. Houses there or in Brighton were too dear. I can manage this one—warm and solid as you said—on my widow’s pension. So here we are in South Downs.”
His smile warmed her deep in her center. “You handled Spain. Coming here must have been easier. I admire your enterprise and courage.”
Their eyes held for a long while, and she knew it couldn’t go on. She cleared the tightness in her throat. “I best see to my baking.”
He nodded. “And I’m expected at Normanton House.”
He rose, but before he could leave, Robby came running, the dog on his heels. He handed Tessa a small bag. “It was in the top of the chickens’ nesting box,” he said.
Her jaw fell open when she peered inside it. “Coins? What on earth?” A half crown, and a handful of smaller coins. It was enough to augment her pension for the next quarter and more.
She stared down at the coins. “Three shillings are exactly how much Burgess shorted me,” she murmured. It was as if someone knew. “But I only told Rachel Pendleton about it.”
She glanced back up at the major, and shook her head.
“You have a benefactor.” He grinned. “Perhaps Captain Moonlight paid you a call after all.”
She gave his arm a playful swat. “Captain Moonlight indeed.”
“It is Mam; it must be!” Robby said rocking on his heels.
“It is not and don’t you go telling tales, Robby,” she chided.
The major smiled at the boy. “Tuck it away,” he said. “I won’t tell. The neighbors don’t need to know.”
“As long as whoever left it doesn’t come back or want something in return,” she said. I’ll have to spend it sparingly to avoid notice.
“Don’t look your gift horse in the month, Mrs. Fleming.” The major donned his hat and went on his way, leaving her perplexed.
* * *
Titus had meant every word he said about courage and enterprise, especially when he learned her origins.
Wolfecliffe’s daughter. That man’s unyielding self-importance would make any young girl’s life a misery, push her into defiance.
It was obvious to him that the little woman overcame it all. She is something remarkable. Something… He couldn’t put what into words. One thing was certain. The coins had been a shock. She’d had no idea they were there.
Titus sent a swift prayer that whoever left the little hoard meant it kindly and that Tessa would have the good sense to hang on to it. It appeared he’d be staying around for a while, just to be sure.