Authors: Amanda Scott
“Surely not you, ma’am.”
“Oh, no, but then I had little to do with anything, for Gavin’s mother was still alive then, of course, though I believe she was increasing at the time. Or possibly she had recently suffered a miscarriage. She so often did, you know. She was not very robust, I fear.”
“Indeed, I do not know how anyone who seems to have spent her entire adult life in what gentlemen, at least, delight in referring to as an interesting condition can have been expected to be robust. I’m only astonished the poor woman clung to life for as long as she did.”
There was a pause. Then Lady Bridget smiled gently. “She was not a happy woman, I fear. She complained a good deal.”
“So I should think.”
“Yes, dear, but she ought not to have complained so much. She was a charming girl, you know, when Thurston brought her home, but she had been raised to think highly of herself, and not at all of anyone else. She complained to anyone who would listen, you see, including Gavin. And he was quite a little boy at the time.”
Mollie took a moment to digest these gentle words before looking more sharply at Lady Bridget. “Are you trying to say something of import, ma’am? Because if you are, I fear your intent has slipped past my understanding. To be sure, it was improper of her to be bewailing her lot to her small son. And no doubt if she had shown the slightest resolution, she might…” Her words trailed off when she noted the twinkle lighting Lady Bridget’s pale-blue eyes.
“Do you mean to say she ought to have stood against her husband, my dear?”
The vision of the late Lord Hawkstone impressed itself disagreeably upon Mollie’s imagination. She frowned, then sighed. “I daresay it would take more than slight resolution for that. No doubt she had cause to complain, but she would have done better to have made her feelings clear to Lord Hawkstone rather than to her son.”
“It was not so easy to do, however,” replied her ladyship a little sadly. “However, we must not be looking to the past, my dear,” she added more briskly. “Do you think we ought to order turtles brought over from the coast for dinner each night while the Regent is at the Towers?”
Mollie was certain she has missed something, but she knew it would do no good to prod Lady Bridget, so she said, “I believe Gavin sent all the necessary orders of that nature to Mrs. Bracegirdle.”
“Ah, yes, of course. He will know what is best to be done, of course. It is so comforting to be able to leave things in the hands of a gentleman again, is it not, my dear?”
Mollie returned a light response and turned Lady Bridget’s attention to certain more personal details that must be attended to before the family could leave London for Kent. Though there were times when she actually found herself wishing that she could be as complacent as the old lady was about entrusting every detail of her life to her husband’s keeping, and although she found it easier now than before they had come to London to comply with his wishes, Mollie still felt a lingering sense of unease. It was buried deep, but it poked its head up occasionally and thus was still a force to be reckoned with.
The feeling manifested itself from time to time in a recurring dream in which she and Hawk were both struggling to maintain possession of the reins of a team of horses. In earlier days she had dreamed that the two of them sat together on the box, side by side, both holding the reins with their hands placed one atop the other without rhyme or reason as to whose hand was uppermost. More recently in the dream, Hawk had taken all the reins firmly in his hands, but Mollie had not yet settled back inside the coach as he wanted her to do. She still sat beside him and held on to the trailing ends of the traces just in case he might let go. So far he had not done so, but she kept her eyes on the road and her mind alert, so that she might be ready. And whenever a curve came into sight ahead, she tensed, thinking this might be the time that she would have to take over. In those dreams the journeys seemed endless, though she never seemed to have any particular awareness of a destination.
The destination uppermost in her mind during the daylight hours of those last days of July, however, as the summer’s heat began to invade the city of London, was the crenellated towers of the lake fortress she had called home for the past four years. Hawk was continually busy, and though she knew he did not spend his days at one or another of his clubs as most men did, she knew just as surely that it would do her no good to pry into his affairs. It did no good to pump her brother-in-law for details, either. Ramsay had indeed grown up a good deal in the past days and weeks, and the new maturity that rested so easily upon his broad shoulders did not come, Mollie knew, merely from a few weeks’ worth of town polish.
Only Harry was the same. And just as she had anticipated, Harry was not particularly enthusiastic about returning to Kent.
“But Mollie,” he demanded, coming upon her in the midst of her final packing, “what would be amiss with my remaining right here in Grosvenor Square with old Bates? I am persuaded he would like it above all things, for he could visit his aunt whenever the fancy struck him to do so.”
“Your thoughtfulness on Mr. Bates’ behalf astonishes me,” Mollie returned, amused.
“Well, I thought I was being very considerate,” he informed her, not in the least abashed by her amusement. “Moreover, there is still a great deal of London that I have not seen, and I am sure it would do my education no end of good if I were allowed to remain here.”
“But you know perfectly well that your brother will not allow it, Harry, even if I were so foolish as to propose such a course to him.”
“Well, I do not see why I should not stay,” the boy insisted. “I am old enough to look after myself, and I shall not learn nearly so much at Hawkstone Towers as I might here.”
“But you would learn a good deal in Brighton, however,” she pointed out gently.
The boy looked much struck. “By Jupiter, I hadn’t thought of that. Everyone has talked of nothing but the house party, you know, and I quite forgot that you mean to go on to Brighton afterward. Of course,” he added more gloomily, “no one has actually said that I am to go with you.”
“Well, you are.”
He eyed her skeptically. “Are you sure, Mollie? You know, Ramsay has said he means to stay at the castle. If he does not go to Brighton, will not Hawk expect me to remain with him? He means to study, you know.” The boy’s expression plainly mirrored his poor opinion of such a course.
Mollie laughed. “I am sure, dear. You will not need to study right up until the moment you depart for Eton, you know. No one will object to a holiday for you. You can bathe in the sea, and ride your pony on the Downs, and we will have picnics and go to a grand review or two. There will be all manner of things to entertain us. You shall not miss any of it, I promise you.”
He turned away, satisfied, but it occurred to Mollie that this was the first time she had had to reassure him after she had given her permission for him to do something. And she wasn’t at all certain he would really believe he was going with them until Hawk had said so. Truly, her husband had made his authority felt. But when she searched her mind for the old resentment, she could find only amusement that Harry would fear Hawk might deny him pleasure. Certainly, from what she had come to know of him, Hawk would never do so without good reason. And Mollie went on about her chores with contentment in her heart and a little smile playing at her lips.
The day of departure came at last, and what seemed to be a veritable cavalcade appeared outside the doors of Hawkstone House in Grosvenor Square. From one of the tall windows of the saloon, Mollie gazed out in dismay at the group of carriages, luggage, and scurrying minions.
“Goodness, sir,” she said, looking up at Hawk, who was standing beside her, “I am certain we did not have so much when we arrived!”
He laughed at her, and she noticed lines of weariness at the corners of his eyes. He was tired, but the laughter was real enough. “You have bought out the city, and now you wonder why it is necessary to hire a wagon or two to fetch and carry the results of your labor?”
She looked back at the activity in the street with rueful eyes. “I had no notion I had purchased so much,” she confessed. “The furniture in the rear hall at home is so shabby it really needs refurbishing, and once I began, I seemed to be possessed of a devil. There are the new chairs, of course, though they are small. And the upholstery material for the old sofas. And of course, more material to recover all those cushions. Aunt Biddy insisted upon linen, you know, because she wishes to embroider the lot. I hope you are not vexed, sir.”
“Not in the least,” he assured her. “Why should I be?”
“Well, with such an army as this to move, it will take us longer on the road, will it not?” She gazed at him, still watching his expression warily.
Hawk put an arm around her shoulders and gave her a little hug. “It will not,” he said firmly. “I have already made arrangements for the wagons and the servants’ carriages to follow at their own pace. Lofting is to accompany them. He was forced to leave Kent in some haste, you know, and since he will remain in town, there are things he wishes to attend to there. I have given him enough money to pay for anything he needs on the way, so we shall not have to be burdened with any responsibility for this lot.”
“Well, I do wish we might have furbished up the rear hall before you thought to invite the Regent and the Countess de Lieven,” she said musingly.
Hawk chuckled. “Now you sound like a proper little housewife, my dear. But if I know you, you will be sending men out to be sure the roads are properly tended and boys to check for produce from the fields and orchards, and all manner of other things before Prinny and the others arrive.”
“What? In two days? I am not such a ninny, my lord. If you wish to disgrace us by not seeing to those details yourself, that’s your lookout. I shall be too busy seeing to the preparations for the Prince’s suite of rooms and accommodations for Lord Bathurst and the de Lievens to worry about anything that you and Troutbeck can see to as well as I can.”
Hawk laughed again, then informed her it was time they were off. Less than half an hour later, he bundled her into the first carriage along with Lady Bridget and Harry. Then, mounting his horse, he took his place beside Lord Ramsay, and the cavalcade commenced its journey south. It was not until they had crossed Westminster Bridge, thereby putting the cobblestones of the city streets behind them, that the lead carriages began to draw away from the others.
The day was a bright one and hot, and the interior of the carriage soon began to feel like the inside of a bake oven, but there could be no question of letting down the windows, for the road was so dusty that one could scarcely see the countryside as it was. Even the glass failed to keep the dust out, and by the time the second stage was completed, Harry was utterly bored and uncomfortable, and Mollie could only be thankful when Hawk took the boy to ride behind him for the third stage. She looked after Harry wistfully and with such concentration that she was startled when Ramsay called to her.
“I say, Mollie, would you care to ride old Homer for a while? I should be glad of a chance for some quiet conversation with Aunt Biddy.”
She knew perfectly well that the most he could hope for by way of conversation from his aunt by then was a gentle snore or two, but Mollie was not in the least tempted to talk him out of his generous impulse. Without a thought for the fact that her lilac sarcenet frock was scarcely suitable for riding, she allowed him to assist her onto his saddle, balancing herself as best she could while he shortened one stirrup and tied up the other, and wishing in the meantime that she had nerve enough to hoist up her skirts and sit astride.
“By Jupiter, Mollie, you’d best have a care or you’ll land in the dirt,” Harry warned. “That saddle ain’t meant for a lady.”
“Don’t bother your head about that,” she told him. “I’ll contrive somehow. I don’t want to spend any more time in that hot carriage than you do, young man.” Then it occurred to her that her husband had made no comment about the arrangement, and she cast him an anxious look. It was scarcely proper for her to be riding like this, and he might well forbid it. But Hawk only grinned at her and advised her to have a care, before signaling the others to move on.
At first she reveled in the freedom of the saddle. Riding in front of the carriages meant they had fresh air to breathe and little trouble with the dust. The heat was not so oppressive either. However, by the end of the stage, the discomforts of a gentleman’s saddle were beginning to make themselves felt. It was not just the saddle but the fact that a good deal more effort was necessary than Mollie had imagined merely to keep her balance. Consequently, when Ramsay asked if she was ready to take her place in the carriage again, she agreed without demur. By then the sun was beginning to settle in the west and the heat was not so bad as before, though the same could not be said for the dust, of course, until they had passed through Cross-in-Hand and actually entered the Bourne Valley, where the dampness from the river kept the road hard-packed in the worst of the summer’s heat. By then, Harry, too, was ready to take his place in the carriage again, and at last they were able to let down the windows.
Twilight lingered after the sun had set behind the hills, and it was in that gray light that they finally saw the great castle looming ahead, perched proudly on its island in the middle of the silvery lake. Mollie drew in a long breath. London had been wonderful, but it was lovely to be home again, even if it was only for a short while. Hawk had dropped back to ride beside the carriage, and she looked out the open window to find him watching her.
“Wonderful to be home again, is it not, sweetheart?” he said, speaking just loudly enough for her to hear him over the rumble of the horses’ hooves and the carriage wheels.
“Indeed, it is, sir,” she replied, returning look for look.
“Are we home?” Harry asked sleepily from the front corner of the carriage, where he had been drowsing away the journey up the valley.