Chapter Twenty-Nine

V anessa had not forgotten the advantages of security and comfort afforded her as Lord Taverston’s mistress. She had to admit she missed them. She didn’t need them, but she missed them. And those advantages paled in comparison to what awaited his countess. The carriage they had used in London, sometimes together, sometimes apart, had been fine enough, but riding in the Earl of Iversley’s coach, marked with the family crest, pulled along by six horses, accompanied by liveried footmen and four outriders, felt like some bizarre dream.

Unfortunately, it was her father’s dream, not hers.

She could not swoop into Cartmel in this. She told the driver to take her to Paxton Downs.

The long ride gave her time to reflect.

Crispin had given her “the high ground.” Surely, he hadn’t planned Jasper’s little tantrum, but seeing him thrown off-kilter rather than suavely rehearsed had only made her love him more. Even at his worst, Jasper had a beautiful soul.

He left the cottage at once. The remainder of the day, she had made herself useful helping Mrs. Badge in the kitchen so they would not have to suffer through another meal like the one served the night before—Crispin hadn’t even tried to be polite but pushed most of it to one side of his plate.

Mrs. Badge hadn’t seemed interested in prying. Rather, she lived a bit in the past and she was a talker, so Vanessa heard interesting tales. For one, the older boys bloodied each other’s noses regularly. Not, Mrs. Badge assured her, ever over grudges. It was because scuffling like street urchins was forbidden at Chaumbers, while the earl and the countess relaxed their rules here.

They were not allowed to hit the little one, naturally, until he caught up some. So they contented themselves with tormenting him. But oh! That child was a clever one. He must’ve been no more than eight when he sneaked into the boathouse and punched holes in the boys’ skiff. The next time they rowed out to fish, the boat sank, and they took a dunking.

“The countess, Lordy, she was angry! She told that boy he might’ve drowned his brothers dead. But dang if the little one didn’t tell her, serious as can be, ‘No, Mother. I made the holes so it would sink at two rods from shore. They can both swim that far.’”

Mrs. Badge erupted with laughter and Vanessa had to laugh with her though she thought the story far-fetched. Reginald had evidently been her favorite.

“The baby was always the pet. And hasn’t she grown up lovely?”

Vanessa had agreed. Olivia was lovely. And the most open-hearted lady she had ever met.

The coach rolled along so smoothly one might be floating. Vanessa pulled back the curtain to look at the countryside. They had come away from the trees and now the road was surrounded by yellow meadows covered with dwarf furze. Here and there, in the distance, she could pick out cottages and cleared fields.

She wondered what the countryside around Iversley was like. What Chaumbers was like. Beautiful, probably. She would certainly love Jasper’s home. She already loved his family.

Crispin had kept Olivia away until suppertime. He was startled—she should say peeved—to learn his brother was already gone. His face had hardened a moment, then he shook himself and made himself thank her, if woodenly, for consenting to speak with Jasper.

Olivia burst out, “You can’t have said no!”

“I didn’t. I said ‘maybe.’”

And then it had seemed they were all friends once more. Apparently, the Taverston siblings believed maybe meant yes. Who, after all, could refuse Jasper?

Over supper, Olivia had taken it upon herself to explain how one must deal with her brothers.

“There is no point arguing with Taverston males. You must ignore them. You’ll only waste your time disagreeing with Reginald because he’s always right. You can’t argue with Crispin because he will bully you into submission.”

“I do not bully!”

Olivia arched an eyebrow in his direction, and it was as though she had learned the technique from him. He closed his mouth and returned to his beans.

“And you can’t argue with Jasper because he is far too agreeable. You will think he is concurring with you and then you discover you somehow ended up in agreement by agreeing with him.”

While Vanessa had laughed quietly at the truth in that, Crispin roared. She wondered what specific memories it had evoked, but he didn’t share, so she didn’t ask.

She couldn’t help quizzing Olivia. “Who wins when they argue with each other?”

Olivia rolled her eyes. “They each think they do.” Then she considered it a moment and said, “Reg, of course, but they would never admit it.”

Crispin had given her a tender, admiring glance and said, “Livvy-pet, when did you become so wise?”

Oh! She could marry Jasper just to be part of his family.

But was it fair of her to do that to them? They would befriend her and defend her. She had no doubt. But could she burden them with that?

She shut the curtain, closed her eyes, and tried not to think about the dilemma for the rest of the journey. She wanted to think away from all this.

But also, there was this: She should have told Jasper about the baby. Not this morning. Not as a confession or deterrent or a plea for his pity. It was something she should have shared with him long before now. Would he wonder why she’d kept it from him? It wasn’t that she meant to hide it. There had simply never been the right time to bring up so private a hurt. But now that children were something to be desired rather than avoided at all costs, it seemed critical that she tell him. She didn’t consider herself at great risk for barrenness. Lydia had assured her she was not. But what if she never did bear Jasper a child, and he learned, somehow, of her miscarriage. What might he think?

After Jasper’s coach let her off, the walk from Paxton Downs felt particularly lengthy. Although footsore and tired, she went first to the Comptons. Oliva had requested boots like Georgiana’s, so she brought the tracing and payment to their workshop. The moment she walked through the door Jon embraced her.

“We got two more orders from Cambridge and two from Oxford Village. It seems your friend threw a dinner party, and all the ladies want boots.”

“Oh, Jon! How wonderful! And here’s another.” She opened her valise and took out Olivia’s tracing. “Lady Olivia Taverston asked if she might have apple blossoms.”

He beamed. “Bitter will say yes. Mrs. Wardrip, this has been such a blessing.” His smile shrank. “But tell me, honestly, do you think there will be more? Or will your connections run out?”

“I can’t say for certain.” She wished she could give a better answer. “I think there will be more, but you are right not to rely on my circle. The boots have to prove their appeal more widely.”

Jon’s expression fell into more contemplative lines. “I’ve had a letter from the vicar over in Chilton. There’s a cavalryman back from the Peninsula, burned real bad, the vicar says—”

“Who needs a position.”

“I want to say yes. He can live over the stable with Tom and Liam. If there’s work enough…”

If she were a countess, moving about in Society, she could flood them with work. Although, no. What was she thinking? A countess was not permitted to peddle her wares. She’d be better situated to help them as Jasper’s mistress than as his wife.

“I wish I could be more certain.”

He bobbed his head. “I know I can’t ask for more than that. I’m sorry. It just—”

“You aren’t asking for yourself. You’re a generous man, Jon. I’ll do what I can. Is Lydia around?”

“She’s over at Myrtle and Mary’s. I’ll tell her you paid a call.” He waved the scrolled tracing like a magician’s wand. “This will bolster my argument.”

Vanessa left the Comptons’ and continued her walk home. Each step put her in mind of other walks back and forth, but the most forceful memory was of Charlotte bringing word of a visitor, and her first sight of Crispin in nearly a year. She’d been so shaken.

She saw a figure coming up the road, but it was not Charlotte. A few yards more, and she realized it was Sherwood. There was nothing down the rest of this road but the Gowes’ little farm and her cottage.

“Mrs. Wardrip!” He shouted and waved. She returned the wave, but not the shout. He began to hurry. There was no point slowing her step to avoid him; they would reach one another regardless.

He stopped in her path.

“Charlotte said you went to Binnings. I can take that.” He reached for her valise. “I’ll walk you home.”

She dodged him. “That isn’t necessary, Sherwood, but thank you.”

“Mrs. Wardrip!” He huffed, exasperated. “I’m trying to court you!”

And Jasper thought he had been clumsy.

“That’s kind of you, Sherwood, but—”

“You shouldn’t live alone. A pretty lass like you. And a widow…”

She wasn’t sure what being a widow had to do with it, but she didn’t like his insinuating tone.

“I am not interested in your opinion,” she said, freezing him. “Now let me pass.”

His face slackened. “Well, wait just a moment.”

“Sherwood—”

“No, wait. I have a letter for you. It’s why I came out all this way.” He searched the pockets inside his jacket. Then he pulled out a thick bundle wrapped in paper and tied with a string. “From that London fellow, I bet.”

There was nothing to indicate the sender but the masculine handwriting. She took the bundle from him.

“Thank you. Good day.”

She walked on. Sherwood was annoying but harmless. And he had a point; she didn’t want to be alone. But just as Jasper said he would not marry anyone but her, she would never care for anyone the way she loved him.

But if she loved Jasper, how could she wed him? She had no idea how to carry out the duties of a countess. Moreover, Jasper needed a wide social circle to be the man that he was. No doubt he would still be able to command attention during political debates. He would still be welcome at White’s. But he would find himself invited to fewer balls, teas, and musicales. And then what?

The Gowes’ place came into view. It was not Charlotte spreading laundry out to dry, but rather Nan. Vanessa waved and called a hello, which brought Charlotte around from the back of the house. Her apron was folded up into a pocket. She must have been tossing feed to the chickens. Vanessa headed over to relate that her journey had been uneventful and the shops pleasant. But a closer look at Charlotte—the way she walked with a sway and the tight fit of her dress—revealed that she must be increasing again. It brought a sharp lump to Vanessa’s throat. She wanted children. Jasper’s children.

“Good afternoon, Charlotte!” She walked up to the fence and waved again. “Nan. I stopped at the Comptons. They have more orders for boots.”

“Isn’t it wonderful!” Charlotte said.

Vanessa lowered her voice. “And I think you have some wonderful news as well.”

Charlotte nodded, blushing. “Can you already tell? Dan says he wants another boy, since I got my girl. But I said Sweet Kate needs a sister. We’ve been bickering and now I’m getting big so fast I think God will show us what’s what and send twins.”

“I’m so pleased for you. Will you come over for tea? You and Nan? I brought some new in Binnings.”

“I can’t. I’d love to but I can’t.” Charlotte wiped her brow. “There’s too much to do. We have some vegetables to pull and put up. You should pull your turnips.”

Vanessa nodded. She knew which were the turnips because she had stolen bunches of them, and other things, raiding gardens in Portugal. Lydia had shown her how. It hurt, still, to think she may have caused innocent families to go hungry. She remembered Colonel Harrington scolding the wives for pillaging their allies, “creating a hostile environment.” Crispin had been there, standing at attention, wearing a furious expression more daunting than the Colonel’s scold. But she didn’t think he was angry with the wives. Around the same time, Henry had tended to one of his fellows, a man he disliked intensely, who had been flogged so severely he couldn’t walk for three days. It was generally known that Lieutenant Taverston had done the flogging. Henry would not name the offense and when Vanessa asked Lydia if she knew, Lydia just scowled and said, “What do you think?”

Not stealing vegetables.

Some things, Vanessa had tried to forget.

Charlotte was saying something about slaughtering a pig.

“Nan is going to help with the boys and Sweet Kate for a while.” Charlotte scratched her flank. “Dan asked her to come.”

“Are you well?”

“Only tired. But Vanessa, I don’t know that I can keep visiting for tea. Not every Monday. When the harvests start coming in, there is so much to do. And then the babe will come…”

“It’s a busy time. I understand.” Vanessa felt uncomfortable. Had she imposed too much on Charlotte’s friendship?

“How was Binnings? Did you see the Taverstons?”

“It was very nice. Yes, yes, I did,” Vanessa answered truthfully but untruthfully. “I didn’t buy much though. Just the tea.” She set down her valise, stretched her aching fingers, then picked it back up. “I should get home. I’ll tell you all about it later.”

Charlotte nodded. “I’ll get back to my hens.”

Vanessa waved again to Nan, then walked the last steps to her home, counting the friends she would have to abandon if she were to leave Cartmel. They were good, decent people who had made her so welcome.

And she had been lying, for months, to them all.

*

The package was from Will and included letters from Effie, with orders for two pairs of boots, and one from Rose, who ordered one pair for herself as well as three pairs for others. Vanessa held the tracings in her hands, marveling at the goodness of her friends, and wondering if this enterprise could be the saving of the Comptons’ mill. Were they all just being kind? Or would the popularity of the boots grow?

If it did, how many orders could they fill? Could Bitter keep up or would they have to hire another artist? And even more bootmakers?

Vanessa forced thoughts of the boot mill from her head by reading the letters, which were full of news of London and gentle questions about her life. They both avoided mentioning the Earl of Iversley, and Vanessa found herself hungry for their impressions of him. How had he spent the last few months? Had he seemed to them as miserable as he’d made himself out to be?

She went to bed and then tossed all night, weighing her options and coming to no conclusion. She wanted to be Jasper’s wife. But she was afraid.

She spent the following morning pulling turnips and weeding her garden yet again; then she visited Charlotte. She traded tea for a half dozen eggs.

She read a portion of one of the adventure novels, but it didn’t hold her interest. She went out to the edge of the woods and gathered kindling. She hemmed the second of her new dresses from Binnings.

What she did not do was make up her mind. Thinking rationally, away from Jasper, did not help. For every reason to marry him, there was one against it. For every reason to stay in Cartmel, she thought of a reason to leave.

Finally, she hauled water from the well, heated it, washed her hair then bathed—the standing-up type of bathing that she loathed.

Scrubbing her neck, she realized her gold chain—Henry’s necklace—was gone.

Frantically, she searched the floor, the washtub, her bed, and her nightstand. Her habit was to take it off at night and don it again in the morning. She couldn’t remember doing so that morning or taking it off the previous night. The last time she could recall, definitely recall, seeing the necklace was when she had shown it to Crispin at supper the first night in Binnings. It could be anywhere.

That night, she went to bed melancholy. She shouldn’t have worn it. She should have kept it tucked away safe. The necklace had been her last tangible connection to Henry and she’d been careless with it. What was wrong with her?

Freddy’s ring was gone, too, of course. That hurt as well but in a different way.

The next day, she baked biscuits before walking back into town to deliver the new orders to Jon. He decided then and there to offer a position to the cavalryman. Jon’s pleasure, Lydia’s satisfaction, and Bitter’s delight took the edge off her agitation.

Later that afternoon, she sat in her parlor feeling a mixture of gratification and restlessness. She stared at the bare white walls. In the nine months that she had been in this cottage, she had never really spent any time in this room. She claimed to love it. Yet she never used it.

What she should do was invite Nan and Bitter to live with her. They could have her bedroom and she could move into her dressing room. Bitter could work from here and Nan would be closer to the Gowes. Vanessa could travel to shops in other towns to try to convince them to display Bitter’s boots and take orders for them. The possibilities excited her and gave her purpose. Even so, it bothered her that she was thinking like a Culpepper.

The room was beginning to darken as the sun started its descent. Vanessa felt confused and dejected. And lonely. What did she want? For herself ? What did she want?

She wanted Jasper.

And if she wanted to be Jasper’s wife, how could fear stop her? Fear of what? Nasty gossip? She’d marched alongside General Wellington’s army!

Little by little, she grew aware of the sound of hoofbeats coming up the road. She went to her door. No doubt Charlotte was peering out her own window, bursting with curiosity.

The approaching horse was not much to look at, nothing like Mercury, but the rider was unmistakably a lord of distinction. His traveling clothes were simple enough: dull brown breeches and a dark green frock coat. But Jasper could have ridden a goat and dressed in rags, and he still would carry himself like an earl. She watched as he reached her cottage and dismounted. Her heart beat faster. She walked quickly to her gate to greet him.

“What are you doing here?”

He started, then directed his gaze away, his expression hurt.

“You said I might come in three days.”

She meant three full days. But he sounded so unsure of himself that she ached for him.

“We count to three differently.” She spoke gently but not gently enough.

“I’m too early?” His face fell and he swore under his breath.

Oh, Jasper . It was just as well. She’d made her decision. No, it wasn’t a decision. It was a choice. She once had said she could live her life afraid of censure or accept it as she had chosen it.

“Come inside, so we can talk.”