Chapter 2 #3
Rain had soaked her to her skin by the time she reached the cider mill; she shivered.
The people who fought the fire were also soaked, but the rain that had made her dress cling to her legs and hampered her walking, had also doused the fire.
With the rain, the heat from the fire hadn’t been able to build up sufficiently for more than the one explosion.
Half of the slate roof and its supporting members were gone.
The rest of the roof and most of the stone walls were blackened, but Cecilia did not think the damage catastrophic.
She looked back to the orchard and where the man had gone.
“Cecilia!” James reached her in three long strides, hatless, his face streaked with soot. “What are you doing here? You shouldn’t be out here in the rain. You should have returned to the house.”
She scarcely heard the reproach in his voice.
“I saw him,” she said.
“Saw whom?”
“The man who set this. I’m sure it was he.” Her voice was steady. “He was walking away from it.” She pointed toward the orchard and the rolling hills beyond. “He went that way, then he stopped up on that ridge,” she continued, “and turned back.”
James followed her gesture, though there was nothing now to see through the steady curtain of rain. His expression sharpened. “Did he see you?”
She nodded once, wrapping her arms around her body against the cold rain, against the memory.
“He bowed.”
James did not speak at once. She felt, rather than saw, the change in him, the quiet tightening she had come to recognize.
“This was meant,” he said at last.
“Yes,” Cecilia agreed.
No one walked away from a fire; they knew that. When lives might be at stake and property lost, they all helped. No questions asked, no posturing, just help.
Or stare, as some did now that the fire had been conquered.
Gideon stood on the mounting step of an open carriage with its bonnet drawn up protecting two fashionably dressed ladies inside from the rain. When he noticed them looking in his direction, he waved to them to join him.
He jumped off the mounting step. “Come and meet Mrs. Hargrave and Mrs. Johnston,” he said, turning to lead them back to the ladies in the carriage.
“James, Cecilia, this is my friend Mrs. Hargrave and her companion, Mrs. Johnston. Mrs. Hargrave, this is my cousin Sir James Branstoke and his wife Cecilia. They are visiting me from Kent, and wouldn’t it happen their first full day here my cider mill catches fire.
I hope this doesn’t have them running back to Kent before our visit has begun!
” he said jovially despite burn holes in his jacket and dark gray water streaking his blond hair and running in gray rivulets down his body.
“Pleased ladies,” James said, bowing slightly. Cecilia smiled and nodded, though she knew she must look as much of a mess as Gideon and her husband.
“Mrs. Hargrave, might you take Lady Branstoke up with you to take her back to Pomum Count?”
“Of course, I would be delighted to,” Mrs. Hargrave said. “It will give us a chance to get to know one another.” She smiled at Cecilia, and Cecilia found herself drawn to this woman with her open countenance and engaging smile.
“Cecilia, please have Mrs. Duggleston prepare tea and a snack for all of us in the drawing room. James and I will be along shortly. I need to wait for the magistrate to get here before I might leave.”
Cecilia didn’t want to return to Pomum Court without James; however, Gideon had put her in a difficult situation. On purpose or by accident? She did wonder. She looked over at her husband. He shrugged slightly.
She knew nothing about this woman, nothing about where she existed in Gideon’s social circle, or even his personal life.
Without context, it was difficult to start a conversation.
Best to begin at the beginning. She did strike her as a straightforward friendly woman.
The older woman sitting next to her looked like she could make lemons pucker.
She kept her face in a suspicious-of-the-world look.
That must be exhausting, Cecilia thought, to be suspicious of the world.
She pushed that thought aside and allowed James to help her into Mrs. Hargrave’s carriage.
Mrs. Hargrave got the carriage turned around and headed toward Pomum Court.
“How is it you know Lord Monteith?” Cecilia asked.
Mrs. Hargrave laughed. “It would be hard not to know him. Ours is a small community. But I knew Lord Monteith’s brother, Lord Jasper, first and of course the old earl. He was a friend of my late husband. They had a monthly card party with some other local gentlemen.”
She gently flicked her reins to get her horse to move forward properly.
“We were at the dry goods this morning,” she continued, “picking up an order and that’s where I heard about the fire.
Mrs. Johnston and I came immediately to see if we might be of any service.
” She shuddered delicately. “The closest I like to be to a fire is on the other side of the fire screen,” she said as she flicked her reins at the horses again.
When the horses moved as she liked she smiled and settled back in her seat.
It took but a few moments for them to make it back to Pomum Court. A young stable lad who’d been told to stay behind ran out of the stable, eager to take the equipage.
Cecilia encouraged them to follow her into Pomum Court.
None of the adult male servants were in the entrance hall to take their outerwear. They were at the cider mill, so Cecilia took it upon herself to assist with putting away their wraps. She was finishing when Mrs. Duggleston came down the hall.
Mrs. Duggleston curtsied, “Ladies, Lady Branstoke, I’m sorry no one was here to greet you when you arrived.” She twisted her hands together. “What happened with the fire? We saw part of it from the upper floors. We have been sore worried.”
“The fire is out and no one has been injured. The rain came at the right time. There is damage to the cider mill; however, it is not a total loss,” Cecilia told her.
“Oh, praise be—but what of you, my lady, why are you muddy and soaked with rain?” she asked, looking her up and down.
“I walked down to the fire and got caught in the rain. Mrs. Hargrave and Mrs. Johnston were kind enough to drive me back here. Can you please have a tea and coffee service prepared and brought to the drawing room. Lord Monteith and Sir James will be joining us shortly.”
“If I may, Lady Branstoke. I think all would be more comfortable in the library on this floor. The drawing room is not fit for company, I regret to say.”
“Still a maze of heavy drab red furniture?” Mrs. Hargrave asked with a smile and a slight laugh.
Mrs. Duggleston nodded. “But the library is a lovely room.”
“I was only in that room once with Lord Jasper, but if memory serves, I’d have to agree with you. It is a lovely room.”
“The library it is, then,” Cecilia said. “Would you ladies object if I challenge protocol and have Mrs. Duggleston see you to the library? I am dripping on this floor and would hate to do so as well in the library.”
Mrs. Hargrave touched her arm gently. “Not at all my dear. You should immediately go and change before you catch an ague as my dear late husband did.”
“I won’t be long,” Cecilia said.
Cecilia rushed to get herself presentable for Gideon’s guests in the library, still it was almost twenty-five minutes before she could join them.
“I’m sorry for leaving you here to yourselves,” she said as she hurried into the room.
But it appeared as if the ladies had made themselves at home.
Mrs. Hargrave was perusing the library shelves, and Mrs. Johnston sat on the settee with the throw from the back of the settee draped across her lap, reading a book.
Mrs. Hargrave turned and smiled. “There is nothing to upset yourself about. We have made ourselves comfortable. A maid brought us tea, and we have enjoyed looking through the books. I was surprised to see that the collection includes several novels.”
“That is surprising,” Cecilia said. “We only arrived late yesterday afternoon, so I have not had the opportunity to study the shelves. I will make sure to do so.”
“The tea is likely cool by now. If you want any, I suggest you ring for it. It is a lovely Earl Grey tea,” Mrs. Hargrave said, leaving the bookshelves to take a seat in a large wing chair near the fireplace.
“Thank you for telling me. I could use a cup of hot tea after being in the rain.” Cecilia pulled the bell rope then sat in the matching wing chair by the fireplace.
“How was it that the fire was caught so swiftly,” Mrs. Hargrave asked.
“I happened to be on the back terrace with Mr. Thornbridge. He was pointing out landmarks and in what direction different aspects of the estate lay. I was looking all around, enjoying being outside, when I noticed what I thought was a column of fire. I brought Mr. Thornbridge’s attention to it.”
“And thus started the word there was a fire,” Mrs. Hargrave said.
“Yes. I did not know Lord Monteith had a pump wagon in the stable. It was astonishing—and exciting, I’ll admit—to see how swiftly the staff rallied to the call.”
“How did you come to get so wet?” Mrs. Hargrave tilted her head to the side as she asked, her brow furrowing slightly in concern.
Even with that furrow across her forehead, Cecilia judged her to be an attractive woman. Not in the dew of youth, but perhaps only a few years older than herself. With her sparkling hazel eyes and smiling manner she radiated a calmness that drew Cecilia to her.
“I walked across the pasture and along the apple orchard to reach the location. The rain did not allow me time to reach the cider mill before it decided to bless me,” Cecilia said with a wry smile.
Mrs. Hargrave laughed, and even Mrs. Johnston laid her book down to join the conversation and laugh.
Marcia brought in a refreshed tea service along with some berry scones. Cecilia made herself a cup then offered to refresh the other two women. They agreed. When all were settled, Cecilia sat back in the wing chair.
She turned to look at Mrs. Hargrave. “How long has it been since you lost your husband, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“Not at all. Thomas passed at the beginning of 1815.” She shook her head as she thought. “He died of that terrible influenza that went around that year. I’ll admit for a time I was angry at him for leaving me like that. Not that he could help it. Grief does that at times, I believe.”
“Oh, no!” Cecilia said. “I am so sorry to hear that. That was a terrible illness. I know, I contracted it as well and was ill for several weeks!”
“You are lucky to be alive,” Mrs. Hargrave said.
“Yes, I was, especially since I was enceinte at the time.”
“Gracious!” she heard shrilly from the end of the settee. She turned to look at Mrs. Johnston. “I can’t imagine!” the older woman continued to say. “Did the baby survive?”
“Yes, he did and he thrives,” Cecilia said proudly.
“Many around here weren’t so lucky,” Mrs. Hargrave said bitterly. “We don’t have a local apothecary, and our closest doctor is Dr. Pettigrew and he lives up near North Tauton. Naturally he was in great need in that area, so we were left to our own devices.”
Mrs. Johnston snorted. “The only time he comes down here is for some Roman discovery or rumor,” she said sourly.
Mrs. Hargrave reluctantly agreed that was true.
“I’m so sorry!” Cecilia exclaimed. “Have you spoken to Lord Monteith on the need for a doctor in the area?”
“No, I haven’t. Do you think I should?” Mrs. Hargrave asked.
“Well, I think you should, and so I’ve told you before,” Mrs. Johnston said.
Cecilia’s eyes widened at Mrs. Johnston’s tone. She wondered what it must be like to have an outspoken person like Mrs. Johnston as one’s companion. Was she a relative, perhaps?
“I did not know that medical help was not available in the area. I know I will say something to Gideon—I mean Lord Monteith, about it,” Cecilia assured her.
Cecilia heard noise from outside the library. “I believe Lord Monteith and my husband have returned.” Though words were indistinct, Lord Monteith’s bass voice did not sound happy. A moment later the library door opened.
“Excuse me ladies,” Gideon said, striding into the room. “I am in all my dirt, and I am not in good spirits. Not good company for you.”
“Has something happened?” Cecilia asked.
“Squire Kassell has declared the cider mill fire to be accidental! Apple must! He declared.” He paced the library. “A crime smacks him in the face and he denies it.”
He stopped his pacing and closed his eyes for a moment. “Forgive me. I am not in good humor.”
“We should leave to allow you some peace and reflection,” Mrs. Hargrave said as she stood, waving at Mrs. Johnston to rise as well.
“No, please, I did not mean—”
“I know, Monteith, dear,” Mrs. Hargrave said, giving him a pat on his cheek. “But it is best. We can talk more tomorrow,” she said.
The ‘dear’ and the pat on the cheek surprised Cecilia. Then she thought about how he had jumped up on the carriage step to speak to her. She wondered as to their relationship. She would have to discuss it with James, later.
Mrs. Johnston followed Mrs. Hargrave out. Cecilia went behind both of them to ensure their outer garments were once again in wearable condition.
“I’m sorry our visit has been cut short,” Cecilia said. “I was enjoying our conversation. I’d like you to know I was a widow when I met Sir James Branstoke, so I know what it is to lose a spouse. Honestly, I don’t know if I could go through that again,” she confessed.
“I have the feeling if we have more of an opportunity to speak together, we would find more commonalities,” Mrs. Hargrave said.
“I believe you are correct. I look forward to seeing you again soon.”
“I, too,” said Mrs. Hargrave. “I, too,” she repeated, softer. The footman opened the front door as a coachman brought her carriage around.