Chapter 19
Home is where the Hart is
“Oh, how strange it seems to be back here. Like a dream.”
Angel glanced at her mama, reclining against the luxurious seats of the Dowager Duchess of Langley’s carriage as it drew them back to the small town she had left so many weeks ago.
“Indeed,” Angel replied with a wry smile, wondering what her mama would say if she knew just how dreamlike Angel was finding her own life.
At the dowager’s insistence, her mother had been sent for so that propriety was served and any hint of scandal could be squashed. The official story was that Angel and her mama had fallen in with Lord Hartwell on the road after a mishap with their carriage.
Though they had not lingered long at Ealdor Palace, for no one was eager to spend much time in the duke’s company, they had continued to London with Leo, his grandmother, and his sisters.
Angel had enjoyed a marvellous time with the two girls, who were lively and funny, and had also renewed her friendship with Lady Della.
It had gone a long way to establishing her in society, and the rumour that she was an heiress—put carefully about by the Dowager Duchess of Hawkney—had done nothing to hurt her popularity.
Leo had borne it all with remarkable grace and fortitude, but in the past weeks they were both finding their patience fraying.
Angel adored her new sisters, who seemed to have adopted her as one of their own, but between them, Leo’s grandmother, and her own mother, she never had a moment alone with Leo and the date for their upcoming nuptials seemed to drag ever onwards, always just out of reach.
Yet, finally, they were coming home. The arrangements for the wedding were all in place, the dress was ready, and in five days they would be man and wife.
“Your father is beside himself, judging from his last letter,” Mama said, meeting Angel’s eyes, her expression frank. “I hope you have told Lord Hartwell that he is not to pay your father’s bills. If he thinks there is an endless supply of funds—well, you know as well as I do how that will go.”
Angel reached over and patted her mother’s hands.
“Leo has been wonderful, Mama. He has arranged everything. I believe he wanted to explain it to you all once the marriage settlements were all in order, but as Papa didn’t sign them until yesterday, there hasn’t been time.
Just so you know, he will give Papa a generous allowance, which even he ought to find sufficient, but he has also made it plain that he won’t get a farthing over and above that, so he can resign himself to debtor’s prison if he thinks to take advantage. ”
Mama sighed, relief smoothing out the worry lines around her eyes. “I’m glad. It’s the only way to deal with the man, I’m afraid, to put it all out in black and white. Subtlety simply doesn’t work.”
Angel repressed a sigh, wishing that her mother had not had to endure such troubles for so long.
But no more. “Mama, Hart has done the same for you too. So whatever Papa wishes, you may go home and live comfortably and never have to worry again about money. You’ll have your own allowance, one Papa cannot touch. ”
Her mother’s eyes widened, and for a moment she just stared at Angel. She gave a choked little laugh and covered her mouth with her hand. “Oh, Angel. Oh, my dear.”
Angel squeezed her mother’s fingers. “I wish that you and Papa could have been happier, but now he shall have his fun, and you can live the life you have wanted, oh, for such a long time. I hope that makes up for… for a little of the unhappiness you’ve endured in the past.”
“Angel,” her mother said, her voice choked.
“Oh, sweet girl. The only unhappiness I ever had was with your father, with the fear of running out of money, but it was never a love match and I had no illusions. Never think I would have changed a thing. Not if it meant never having you in my life, child. You… You have always been a joy and a delight to me, and… and when you ran away, I was so, so terribly—”
Mama dissolved, burying her face in a lacy handkerchief.
“Mama, please don’t,” Angel said, guilt tugging at her heart at seeing her mother weep.
Mama was always so reserved, so contained, that it was quite shocking.
Though she had known her mother would worry for her, she had not fully realised how deeply.
They had never been demonstrative, but the outpouring of love and regret with which Mama had showered her when they reunited had made Angel aware of so much they had never said to one another. But now they had time.
Leo had been wonderfully kind to Mama and had known just how to deal with Papa, too.
Papa was still in town and had promised to make his own way back in time for the wedding, but Angel could not help but wonder if the lure of the gambling clubs and the nightlife to which he was so addicted would prove stronger than his only daughter’s wedding.
She told herself she was prepared for it, if that be the case.
By the time they arrived back at The Crow’s Nest, Mama had composed herself and she looked out of the window at the grand and rather overly ornate building Pops had loved so dearly.
“I always hated this house,” she said, shaking her head. “Such a monstrous design. Far too garish, but Jack never did like to be understated.”
Angel smiled. “No. That he didn’t. What will you do with it? For you could keep it now, if you wished.”
Mama shuddered at the very idea. “No, I thank you. But you could. I know how much Jack meant to you, and it was his, after all.”
Angel considered the house that had been her home all her life and shook her head.
“Leo’s father has relented, now he realises that Hart truly doesn’t care if he’s cut off or not.
I think he has finally gained a measure of respect for his son after that scene, for he has given him the running of three of the ducal properties.
So, we’d never get much time to come here, and I think the house deserves a new family.
Perhaps another little girl with big dreams will live here.
I like that idea better, so I think we shall rent it out.
I have my memories of you and of Pops, even of Papa when he was home and merry, and plump in the pocket.
I don’t need a house to keep them safe.”
Mama nodded. “That’s a fine idea. It would be nice to believe the house Jack built for us could be a home to another brave girl, or boy, who dared to look farther than the end of their nose for adventure.”
“Why, Mama,” Angel said, teasing now. “And how you scolded me for doing just that!”
Mama sniffed, glaring at her. “Yes, well, I only hope they don’t turn their poor mama’s hair grey when they do it. A letter, just a few words to tell me you were alive—is that too much, I ask you?”
Angel bit her lip as the footman helped Mama down from the carriage, and they went inside.
Later that same afternoon, Angel walked through the little town that was so familiar to her, nodding greetings to people she knew, and smiling to herself as ladies whispered behind fans the moment she passed.
She knew from Izzy’s letters that her forthcoming wedding to the Marquess of Hartwell was all anyone could talk of, and she could not deny she rather enjoyed being the centre of attention.
As the Dowager Duchess of Hawkney had intimated, however, the town was far busier than she was used to, and the newcomers were fashionable ladies and gentlemen who had clearly spurned the last weeks of the season to come here.
Though the new hotel being built to house those eager to sample the delights of their little idyll was far from ready, The Mermaid and The Swan were fully booked, and some of the more elegant houses had been vacated by their owners to take advantage of the high rental fees they could now command.
New shops had sprung up in the town as well, shops which had been empty for years, suddenly spruced up with fresh paint and elegant window dressings of pretty bonnets and shoes and fashionable accoutrements.
Angel had even heard tell of another modiste moving in and wondered how Madame Auguste had taken the news that she had competition.
Angel smiled as the vicarage came into view. It was a handsome building, and the cottage garden surrounding it a riot of colour, redolent with perfume and the drowsy humming of bees.
She made her way up the path to the front door, the scent of lavender and thyme drifting up as her skirts brushed past the plants and plied the knocker.
As she waited, she reached for one of the roses that scrambled over the trellised porch and inhaled the lovely aroma.
The distant sound of hurrying footsteps reached her and she turned, ready to greet the maid, Polly, or Mrs Adie, the cook and housekeeper.
But the door opened and a beautiful young woman looked at her inquiringly, her open expression candid and welcoming. “Good afternoon, did you want the reverend?”
“Oh,” Angel said, a little startled. “I er… actually I wished to see Mrs Midwinter, his daughter. I understood that she and her husband were staying here as the castle is not yet habitable.”
“Gracious,” the woman said, her cheeks turning pink in a rather charming addition to her strawberry blonde colouring.
“What a ninny I am! You must be Miss Everdene. She said you might be calling. Please forgive me, miss, and do come in. I’m afraid Mrs Midwinter went to the castle with her husband to check on progress.
They are hoping to move in next week, you see, but I don’t believe they will be gone much longer. Can I offer you some tea?”
“Yes, that would be lovely,” Angel said with a smile, too curious about the young woman to refuse.