A Wealthy Widow
After another hour, Iris came to take her place as they had agreed. Arabella went out for a walk, feeling the need for a little air. The inn was quite warm and rather stuffy as it had only small windows. She felt pleased with their patient’s progress, for he seemed to be throwing the fever off. However, when she returned, Iris told her that he had begun to sweat heavily and throw the bedcovers off once more.
Arabella resorted to the same remedy as before, and once again he quietened under her hand. She was a little concerned and sent Iris to ask the landlord to send for the doctor again.
When he visited later that morning, the doctor declared himself satisfied with the patient’s progress.
‘You must expect a little fever,’ he said. ‘I warned you that he might be violent, for brain fever can be dangerous, though you seem to be nursing him very well, Lady Arabella. I had expected your husband to be in a worse case than this. Continue to give him the powders I left you and I am sure all will be well.’
Arabella thanked him, forbearing to tell him that her patient had not taken much of the doctor’s remedy. She walked downstairs with him to the parlour where she took her midday meal alone. There was no sign of the country gentleman she had seen earlier and she was pleased that the inn seemed not to get too many visitors. It was as she was preparing to go back upstairs once more that Mrs Blackstone came up to her with a smile.
‘Your husband is much better, Lady Arabella. He woke a few moments ago when I went in with some more water. He asked me where he was and I told him that he was staying at the Fox and Hounds in Thornborough, and that his wife was caring for him. He seemed a little mazed, my lady, but I am sure that is only to be expected in the circumstances. The poor man said he had no wife, but he will remember when he sees you.’
‘Yes, of course,’ Arabella said and went hastily up the stairs. It was little wonder if Charles Hunter felt confused by being told his wife was caring for him! She entered the bedchamber and found Iris wrestling with him as she tried to keep him from leaving his bed.
‘You must not, sir,’ Arabella said and crossed to the bedside. ‘You have been ill and I think you should stay in bed for a little longer.’
‘And who the hell are you?’ he demanded, looking angry. ‘Are you the designing wench who has been masquerading as my wife? I have no wife and if you hope to force me into proposing because you have compromised yourself, let me tell you that you are much mistaken. I have no intention of taking a wife—and certainly not a female I have never met before in my life!’
‘Thank you, Iris, you may go,’ Arabella said. She fixed a cool stare on Charles, lifting her head proudly. Now she became the lady of the manor, wealth and power at her back. ‘You are the one who is mistaken, sir. I found you lying on the road and in a parlous state. Had I not taken you up in my carriage, you might have died. Indeed, the rogue who attacked you might have returned to finish his work.’
‘Was I attacked?’ Charles stared at her, his eyes narrowing. Something about her voice was very attractive. He found it soothing, despite his shock at the discovery that he was supposed to have a wife. ‘Who are you, ma’am—and why does the innkeeper’s wife imagine I am your husband?’
‘Because I was determined to nurse you,’ Arabella told him calmly. ‘It seemed easier to allow that good lady to think us married, but I assure you that you stand in no danger of being coerced into offering for me. I have no intention of marrying again—and, I assure you, nothing would make me marry you, sir.’
Charles stared at her for a few seconds, a frown on his face. ‘You are a widow?’
‘Yes, that is so,’ she replied. ‘I had thought you might know me, Mr Hunter, but it seems that you have forgot me.’
‘Have we met?’
‘Once—at my wedding. I am Lady Arabella Marshall. My late husband was then your good friend. It was for his sake that I have done what I have. I always prayed that someone nursed Ben when he was dying and thought it my duty to help you.’
‘Good grief,’ Charles said and gave a little moan of anguish. He lay back against the pillows, closing his eyes for a moment. ‘Forgive me. My head aches like the very devil and I thought…I have been damnably rude!’
‘Yes, you have,’ she said and smiled a little wryly. ‘However, the doctor told me that you might be violent or abusive. Indeed, I was prepared for much worse. Forgive me for taking a liberty concerning my relationship with yourself, Mr Hunter—but it did seem the best way at the time. I could hardly have cared for you as I have if I’d confessed that you were a stranger to me. I am four and twenty, no longer a green girl, but I do not think it would have been thought proper even so.’
He opened his eyes and looked at her again, a wry expression on his lips. ‘I am a fool. I tend to think the worst of people these days. Of course I remember Ben’s wife. I am sorry for not having known you—and even more sorry that Ben died. It was a terrible thing to happen so soon after you were wed.’
‘Yes, it was,’ Arabella agreed, her eyes shadowed with sadness. ‘Now, sir, may I have something brought for you? A little nourishing broth or some wine?’
‘I detest nourishing broth,’ Charles said with a grimace. ‘I will eat some bread and cold meat—and a glass of wine if you please.’
‘I think a little brandy might be restorative,’ Arabella said. ‘But not the meat and bread just yet. I shall ask Mrs Blackstone if she will cook a coddled egg for you.’ She laughed as he pulled a face. ‘Yes, I know what you will think of that, sir—but red meat might not suit you for the moment.’
‘Do you think it might make me violent? I promise I shall not attack you, ma’am.’
‘I have no fear of it,’ Arabella laughed huskily. Her eyes lit up and in that moment she was very beautiful. ‘You may have a little chicken this evening if you do not relapse into the fever again. Please, for my peace of mind, be sensible, sir.’
‘Only if you call me Charles,’ he said, looking rueful. ‘We should be friends—if Ben had lived we would have known each other well. Besides, it would look odd if you called me sir in front of our good hostess. She will think me quite mad for not knowing I had a wife.’
‘Just a little mazed, understandably so after the blow to your head,’ Arabella told him. ‘Lie still and rest, Charles. I shall order your meal and then perhaps you will sleep again.’
Smiling at him, she went out, leaving Charles to rest against the pillows and remember the soft voice and hands that had soothed him in his fever…had done things for him, intimate things that he could not possibly have expected of her. Yet perhaps it had been her maid. He had thought she was Sarah…a swift slash of pain cut through him as he remembered that his sister was still lost.
As soon as he was able he must continue his search for her, but he would say nothing to Lady Arabella. She had been generous to him despite her own troubles. It would not do to lay his burdens on her when she could know nothing of the matter.
Chapter Two
‘I think I shall get up this morning,’ Charles said, smiling as Arabella entered his room the following day. She had brought his breakfast tray and he felt a new hunger as he saw that he was at last being allowed cold beef, bread and butter as well as a tankard of ale. ‘Thank you. I shall enjoy this food, ma’am.’
‘You asked me to call you Charles,’ she reminded him. ‘It would please me if you were to call me by my name.’
‘You have been both generous and kind,’ Charles said, a strange wintry expression in his eyes. ‘I am grateful for all your attentions, Lady Arabella—but I believe you should cease to wait on me in this manner. I am much recovered now and it is not fitting that an unmarried lady should visit the bedchamber of a man she scarcely knows.’
‘I have been married, sir. I am not a stranger to such things.’
‘Married for a week, I understand?’ Charles saw her flinch and immediately cursed himself for his clumsiness. ‘Forgive me. I should not have said that, Arabella—but I am concerned for your reputation.’
‘You shall not be asked to rescue it,’ Arabella replied in a sharp tone—she was hurt that he should speak to her in that way. She had thought they were well on the way to becoming friends. She lifted her head proudly, becoming the lady of consequence she truly was as the mistress of a large manor. ‘But if you feel able to care for yourself now I shall not press my attentions on you, sir. My carriage has returned for me this morning and I shall continue my journey to London. I have already been delayed and I dare say my friends are anxious for me by now.’
‘I have offended you,’ Charles said, regretting that he had spoken harshly. ‘That was not my intention. I am truly grateful for all you have done. Indeed, I may owe my life to you.’
‘Think nothing of it,’ she replied, her manner becoming even more reserved, cool to the point of iciness. ‘I would do the same for any man—and you were a friend of Ben’s. I shall bid you good morning, sir. I trust you may complete your journey without further accident. I should take care if I were you. It was only good fortune that you were not killed. I do not know if you have an enemy, but that rope across the road was meant to bring you down.’
‘Me or any unwary traveller, I dare say,’ Charles said, frowning. ‘But I shall heed your warning, Lady Arabella. I should not have been so easily caught had I been less wrapped up in my own thoughts.’
Arabella nodded, but made no further reply. He seemed to be a man of moods for he was never the same twice, swinging from a smiling, good-natured gentleman to a harsh, reserved stranger. She left him to his breakfast and went downstairs, seeking out the landlady to pay the reckoning for their rooms and to tell her that they were leaving. Her grooms had informed her that Charles had been robbed and he obviously could not pay for anything himself. Arabella gave the landlady a few coins extra to pay for his keep should he need to stay on a little longer.
‘I have an appointment in London,’ she said to excuse the odd circumstance of her leaving alone. ‘Charles will follow at his convenience. I have to thank you for taking us in. I hope we have not been too much of a nuisance.’
‘Oh, no, my lady,’ the woman said and bobbed a curtsy. ‘It was a pleasure to have you.’
Within an hour Arabella was sitting in her carriage and ready to leave for her aunt’s house in town. Glancing from the window, she saw that Charles Hunter had come out from the inn as they were about to drive off. He stood for a moment in the sunshine and appeared to be looking for someone, but Arabella told her driver to move on. They could have nothing to say to one another. Should they meet in town, she would greet him as a stranger. She had already decided to put this interlude from her mind. She had helped a man who had been her husband’s friend and that was an end to it—and yet she had an odd feeling of having lost something as she was driven away.
Charles saw the carriage leaving. Had he come down a few minutes earlier he might have spoken to her again, apologised for his coolness that morning. He was aware that he had much to thank her for and she did not deserve to be treated so harshly. Yet he could not allow himself to like her too much. His life must be dedicated to finding Sarah. The guilt and fear nagged at him, mingling with the anger. Sarah was all that mattered now. Besides, he knew that he was incapable of loving a woman—especially one as beautiful and warm as Lady Arabella. She deserved passion and spirit, not the broken shell of the man he had become.
It was better that she had gone without time for another meeting between them. The memory of soft hands and sweet words soothing him would pass. He would not allow himself to remember how comforted she had made him feel—or the hurt look in her eyes when he had told her that he no longer needed her help.
‘Arabella dearest! I was beginning to worry about you,’ Lady Hester Tate said as her niece walked into the elegant parlour of her London house that afternoon. ‘Tilda has been fretting—she did not like to leave you alone with only your maid to protect you.’
Arabella’s laughter was warm and delightful. ‘I do hope she did not upset you, Aunt Hester? I assure you I was perfectly safe.’
‘She seemed to think you were in some mortal danger, though she would not tell me exactly what,’ Lady Tate said and frowned. ‘I do not know how you put up with her, my dear. She is such a fusspot.’
‘Yes, she is rather,’ Arabella said, smothering a sigh. ‘But she has so little to live on, Aunt. I should feel awful if I told her I did not need her any longer—though I must admit that she tries my patience at times. Where is she at this moment?’
‘Oh, I sent her on an errand,’ Lady Tate said, pulling a little face. ‘She is useful in many ways, Arabella. I had some packages that needed to be delivered to a friend—and my library book had to be returned. I could have sent a servant with the packages, of course, but Tilda likes to feel helpful.’
‘Yes, she does,’ Arabella said. She bent to kiss her aunt’s cheek. Lady Tate was a small, slightly plump lady who had once been considered a great beauty but was now showing signs of fragility, her skin papery soft. ‘How are you? When you wrote to me last, you had had a chill, I think?’
‘Oh, I am much recovered,’ her aunt said, her eyes avoiding looking directly at Arabella. ‘I am well enough in myself—but Ralph worries me. He has been behaving oddly recently and I think he may be in debt again. He is such a terrible gambler. Takes after his father, of course, and never listens to anything I say.’ Lady Tate’s expression was a mixture of anxiety and annoyance. ‘Goodness knows what he does with his own money!’
‘I am sorry to hear that he has made you anxious,’ Arabella said. ‘He really should learn to stay away from the card tables. He cannot expect you to rescue him from his folly again.’
‘No, indeed, I have told him that I can give him no more than a hundred guineas,’ Lady Tate said. ‘He says it is not enough, but I cannot spare more, Arabella. I have my jointure and a few jewels my father bought me—but he has sold the Tate heirlooms himself.’
‘Oh, no, has he?’ Arabella felt a slight unease. ‘That was not well done of Ralph, Aunt. Do you know if he has run up claims on the Northampton estate?’
‘I would not care if he has,’ her aunt replied. ‘I hate Tatton Court. It is an awful old place and would cost a fortune to make it comfortable. So he may gamble that away if he pleases—but I have told him that Haverhill House is not his to hazard. It belonged to my family and remains mine until I die. I have made a will passing it to my grandchildren, Arabella. Failing them, it will come to you, my dear. Ralph does not know that, but I have instructed my lawyers that he is not to have the right to sell it. He would not like it if he knew, but he would lose everything we have if I did not take some precautions.’
‘Yes, I see.’ Arabella thought that her cousin would be furious if he knew what his mother had done, but kept her own counsel. Aunt Hester might complain of her son sometimes, but she thought the world of him and would not like to be told the harsh truth, which was that Sir Ralph Tate cared for nothing but himself. ‘Well, you must do as you think best, dearest. Now tell me, do we dine alone this evening?’
‘As it happens we have an engagement. I left your first two evenings free, Arabella, so that we might be comfortable together, but you did not come when I expected you, and we are engaged this evening to a great friend of mine—Lady Samson. She is to give a little musical affair, my dear. Nothing exciting, but you know how it is. Most of the ton have gone to the country or Brighton for the summer.’ She glanced at her niece. ‘I could go alone this evening if you are too tired?’
‘I am not in the least tired,’ Arabella said. ‘A musical evening will be very pleasant. I shall enjoy it, I am sure.’
‘Yes, well, I think you will. Lady Samson’s niece Melinda is in town for a visit and I seem to recall that you rather like her?’
‘Yes, I do. It will be pleasant to see Melinda again. I have not seen her since her wedding last year.’
‘When dear Sammy told me she was here I thought it was the very thing. It was kind of you to visit me, Arabella, but I shan’t keep you tied to my apron strings. You are still young and you need young company. I believe Melinda’s brother-in-law is in town too. Captain Hernshaw is a very pleasant gentleman. I believe he has just resigned his commission in favour of a political position. Do you happen to know him at all?’
Arabella glanced at her aunt suspiciously. She was wearing an innocent face, but she was well aware that Lady Tate thought that it was time Arabella married again. Indeed, most of her friends had hinted as much, but Arabella had ignored the subtle pressure from those she believed meant well. She had known true love and would not settle for less. Since she thought it unlikely that she would ever find another man who would make her thrill to his smiles as Ben had, she had put all thought of marriage from her mind. Besides, loving made one vulnerable and she had suffered dreadfully after Ben was killed. She did not wish to be hurt that way ever again.
‘I believe we may have met at Melinda’s wedding,’ she said in answer to her aunt’s question. ‘But I cannot say that I know him.’
‘I imagine he may put in an appearance this evening,’ Lady Tate said and wrinkled her brow. ‘Though you can never be sure what a gentleman will do—they are such inconstant creatures, are they not?’
‘Perhaps,’ Arabella agreed. ‘Some gentlemen are changeable, I believe.’ For a moment her thoughts returned to the man she had left behind at the inn earlier that day. Charles Hunter was a man of moods, but she believed that he had some secret sorrow that preyed upon his mind. Something about him had touched her from the moment when he had seemed rude in the first inn’s parlour, and caring for him while he lay ill had made her very aware of tenderness towards him. Not that it was more than she would feel for any man in extremity! But she had been drawn to him. However, he had made his feelings plain and she must put all thought of him aside. Mr Hunter had shown her that he did not wish for her attentions! Should they meet again, he would deserve it if she gave him the cut direct.
Arabella was wearing a deep emerald-green silk gown when she walked into Lady Samson’s large drawing room that evening. It was fashioned in such a way that it seemed to swathe her slender figure in soft folds, causing more than one head to turn and admire it—and her. Around her throat she had clasped a magnificent collar of pearls and diamonds, one of the heirlooms that had come to her as Ben’s widow. He had been the last of his family, and as his estate no longer suffered an entail, his will had left everything to her. Arabella was therefore exceptionally wealthy, having also inherited a small fortune from her father.
Because she was uninterested in what others thought of her, she was quite unaware of causing a stir or of the many admiring looks sent in her direction. The expression in some female eyes was distinctly envious, but in others approval and even warmth was the main emotion roused, particularly in the gentlemen. She was generally liked, but thought to be a little reserved, even cool at times, and though several of the gentlemen had considered making an offer for a woman who was both beautiful and rich, some had hesitated to approach her. It was known that those who had so dared had been summarily rejected. Lady Arabella was a wealthy widow, an independent lady who had no need to take another husband unless she wished. Indeed, because of the marriage laws that would hand everything she owned over to her husband, some of the ladies secretly applauded her and wished that they had the good fortune to be in her shoes.
‘It’s a crying shame,’ Captain Hernshaw murmured naughtily to his young and pretty sister-in-law. ‘So beautiful and all that money. It is surely her duty to marry again—preferably me. I am in need of instant repair to my fortune after my ill luck at the tables last night.’
‘You are a wicked tease, Richard,’ Melinda Hernshaw told him, tapping his arm playfully with her fan. She knew it was all nonsense—he was his maternal uncle’s heir and would inherit a large estate one day. ‘But I wish Belle would fall in love with you. I hate it that she is a widow and unhappy.’
‘Do you think she is terribly unhappy?’ Captain Hernshaw asked, looking at Arabella’s face. ‘She seems to smile quite a lot and is looking very lovely this evening. She put off her blacks for your wedding, didn’t she, Mel?’
‘Yes, she did,’ Melinda said and shot a look of speculation at him. ‘She can’t go on grieving for ever, Richard. Why don’t you try your luck?’
‘Oh, I would if I thought she might listen,’ he replied and grinned. ‘But I don’t want to be frozen out, Mel. Some of the gallants who tried their luck last year say that she is an iceberg, and that one look from her could turn a man into a pillar of salt. Though considering they hadn’t a bean to spare between them, I do not blame her for turning them down. Personally, I admire her for herself, but I shall take things very slowly.’
‘You really like her, don’t you?’
‘She knocked me for six the first time I saw her,’ he admitted with a rueful look. ‘But I dare say I am not the only one. Look at her cousin. Now that I do not like to see. He is a rum cove by all accounts. She ought to be careful of him!’
‘Ralph Tate rarely escorts his mother to affairs of this kind,’ Melinda replied and frowned. ‘Yes, I see what you mean, Richard. He’s like a dog guarding its bone. The way he looks at her—that possessive manner, as if he thinks she belongs to him!’
‘She wouldn’t have him, would she?’
‘I shouldn’t think so. I don’t believe she likes him. Look at the way she shrugged off his hand then. I think she is in some distress, Richard. Pray let us go and rescue her from his attentions.’
‘By Jove, yes,’ Captain Hernshaw agreed eagerly. ‘Can’t have that toad monopolising the most beautiful woman in the room—present company excepted, Mel.’
‘I know Arabella is more beautiful,’ Melinda told him with a smile. ‘Harry says I’m pretty and I am—but Belle is special.’
Captain Hernshaw held his tongue. He was in perfect agreement with his sister-in-law’s summation, and more than a little smitten with the widow, but he did not hold out much hope of her feeling the same. He was not truly in desperate need of a rich wife, for he had expectations. However, he thought it might still be too soon to offer for her and he did not wish to cause her distress. He had seen the deep grief in her eyes when she thought she was unobserved, even though her smile came bursting through like a ray of sunlight when something pleased or amused her. He frowned as he noticed the look on her face when her cousin leaned forward to whisper in her ear. She did not care for such intimacy, that was clear, but she was finding it difficult to keep him at bay.
She raised her head as he and Melinda approached, a smile of welcome on her lips. Hernshaw felt a sudden pounding in his breast, for she was truly lovely and he wished that her smile had been for him rather than his sister-in-law.
‘Melinda dearest,’ Arabella said and moved forward to kiss her friend’s cheek. ‘How are you? You look wonderful.’
‘So do you,’ Melinda replied. ‘Please, Belle, you must come and sit with me. Sir Ralph will spare you to me, will you not, sir?’
‘Arabella was going to sit with me…’ Ralph’s sullen look made him appear even more unattractive. Although tall and well made, he was fleshy of face and his sandy hair was already thinning at the temples. More than that, though, were the marks of indulgence in his complexion, the beads of sweat on his forehead and the faint odour of perspiration that enamated from his person.
‘No, I believe I have not agreed,’ Arabella said. ‘Besides, I do not think you would care for Madame Casciano’s recital, cousin.’