Chapter Fourteen

Meredith hadn't slept well at all, with nightmares of Clyde and Jack torturing her throughout the night. They had been in a grove, surrounded by oak trees, with their fists up in front of them like they were going to fight. She had tried to stop it, had tried to call out, but had found that her voice had all but disappeared.

Brynn the maid had fortunately woken her from her unrestful nightmare when she came into the room that morning to stir the coals of the fire.

"Good morning, my lady," Brynn said, busying herself with straightening up the room. She headed towards the fireplace and poked at the coals. "I've been informed that you're departing first thing this morning."

"Oh, yes," Meredith said, pressing the heel of her palms to her eyes. "I think the yellow striped day gown will do."

"Yes, my lady," Brynn said as she hurried away to pull out a day dress.

The maid worked quickly and quietly for the remainder of the morning as Meredith fought against images of last night. Memories of Jack's hands, eyes and mouth haunted her while she dressed. She had to close her eyes while her hair was being done so that she didn't see herself in the mirror. Even as she walked down to breakfast, memories flashed in her mind like lightning. She never knew touching like that. Clyde hadn't been terribly clever with his hands and certainly not his mouth. It had been tantalizing under Jack's touch and while she absolutely knew it would never happen again, she was excited to have the memory of his eyes as he worked himself—

"Miss Taylor! Oh, Miss Taylor!" Dawn Trowbridge said as she waved from the other side of the table.

Meredith tried to smile, thankful for the distraction from her memories. She had a plate fixed and sat next to the young woman, who seemed desperate to align herself with Meredith.

"Good morning, Miss Trowbridge," Meredith said as she took up her teacup.

"Oh, you must call me Dawn," the young lady said, leaning towards her. "I believe we should be good friends if you were ever to come to London."

"I'm rarely in town," Meredith said as Sir Kent entered the room, followed closely by Lord Buchanan, Mountebank, and Simon. She was momentarily disappointed to see that Jack wasn't with them. She twisted back to Dawn. "I do plan on attending next season, though. My younger sister, Beatrice, is making her debut."

"Is she? How fascinating," Dawn said, her eyes fixated on a point behind Meredith. "Well, perhaps we shall be in each other's company then, that is of course, if I am still on the market by then."

Meredith turned to follow her gaze.

"Have you found yourself fancying someone then?" she asked.

Dawn smiled coyly at Mr. Blake. He nodded at the two and Meredith made sure not to appear too aware of the connection.

"I dare not speculate," Dawn said softly. "But I do have hope." She inhaled dramatically. "It's a pity we didn't have more time to speak during our time here. We depart this afternoon."

"We are leaving just after breakfast I'm afraid."

"A pity indeed!"

"Well then, you two should correspond," Lady Buchanan said from across the table, not caring an ounce that she had been eavesdropping. "The dreary winter always goes by much faster when you have someone to exchange letters with, don't you agree, my lord?"

Lord Buchanan came around to sit, along with Sir Kent, flanking the older woman on either side.

"Quite right, my dear," the older man said.

"I've always found writing letters to be a fine past time," Sir Kent said. "Reading as well."

"As have I," she said, trying not to blush beneath his perpetual stare.

"Sir Kent, you should write Miss Taylor as well," Lady Buchanan said, giving Meredith the slightest of winks. "I'm sure she would be ecstatic to have the honor of reading your letters."

"Lady Buchanan," Meredith said quietly, hoping to dissuade the older woman.

"Oh, but you must!" Dawn said to Sir Kent.

"Please," Meredith nearly whispered.

"If it's not too forward, Miss Taylor," Sir Kent said. "I would enjoy that."

Meredith bit the inside of her lip as all eyes fell on her. Simon and Mountebank had paused in their seating, staring at her, and for the most awful moment, she wanted to run from the room. Instead, she smiled and nodded.

"Yes, Sir Kent, that would be agreeable."

Why were all these meddling persons trying to throw her and the good sir together? They had barely said anything except the most cordial things to one another and while she supposed they had been rather friendly during the Pall Mall match and the ball, the truth was that ever since Jack had arrived at Dragmoor, Meredith had been preoccupied.

After finishing breakfast, Meredith found Sarah, who was just finishing overseeing the packing for their long journey home. Daniel wasn't happy that they were leaving as he had made fast friends with the other children. Soon enough the entire family was gathered in the foyer, saying good bye to Mountebank.

Except that Meredith was hardly aware. She had expected to see Jack for breakfast, or at the very least during the send offs, but it appeared he was nowhere to be found. Luckily, she was standing close to Simon and Mountebank and overheard them speaking.

"—left early this morning," Mountebank was saying. "Something about needing to get back to Burnwall for a pugilist match."

"Yes, he's coaching some new lad. A fighter named Fredrick something," Simon said, shaking his head. "He's been acting strangely now for several weeks. Behaving boorishly."

"Hasn't he always?" Mountebank asked.

Simon nodded, and then patted the duke on the back as he said his goodbyes. So, Jack had left, as they made their way to the carriages. Well, she was not sorry to elude him that morning and when she, Sarah, Simon, and Daniel were finally packed away in their carriage, pulling away from Dragmoor, Meredith decided that she would be quite happy indeed if she never saw Jack Archer again.

****

The autumn had finally settled in Bristol over the next two weeks and while Meredith had made it a point not to think, see or hear from Jack Archer since their return from Dragmoor, she knew her current miserable state was due to it. It hadn't been for lack of trying of course. She had gone for walks near his property and called on Simon at the offices twice with Sarah during a visit into the city but for all intents and purposes, Jack had disappeared.

Meredith supposed it was for the best. He had told her clearly that he had no intentions of continuing his pursuit of her if she was going to commit to her spinsterhood lifestyle. Perhaps theirs was only a passing fancy. She had hoped that he had felt the same, genuine feelings she had. The odd, yearning pull to be near him and the continued desire to be touched by his rough hands.

Still, it was probably better to forget their little rendezvous, especially since she was receiving letters from Sir Kent. Of course, what had surprised Meredith the most since leaving Dragmoor was the fact that her letter writing relationship with the soldier was now national news.

When she had ended up in the gossip pages a few days earlier, Meredith had been mortified. She didn't understand. She had never been written about before. She was the very boring, very spinster sister of a former countess and while the winter months usually led to an increase in fodder, simply because people seemed bored without it, she was surprised when, one Sunday morning, she found herself reading an article about Sir Kent, written in The Times.

Gentlemen, Sirs and the Like

…In other news, a little bird has told this author that a certain gentleman of honor has begun a correspondence with the renowned ex—countess de Marchand's forgotten sister, a Miss Meredith Taylor. The middle Taylor sister never debuted and has been comfortably tucked away in the country for most of her life, but it was learned by this author that the mild mannered miss certainly caught the attention of one of London's most renowned bachelors. Perhaps next season will be filled with a belated introduction for Miss Meredith Taylor, as this author has it on good authority that Miss Beatrice Taylor will make her debut this coming spring. Now, we must turn our attentions to…

Meredith re-read the article three times before she decided to find Sarah. Her sister had given up her secret life as a gossip columnist over a year ago, so she surely would know who wrote this drivel.

Why was she even worth being written about, Meredith wondered as she searched the house for her sister? She was insignificant really, and while Sir Kent held a certain fascination with the people of the ton, he hardly seemed like the type to rile up gossip. She had received a letter from him, not two days ago that mostly spoke of his plans to visit Shropshire for the upcoming holiday season, before travelling north to visit family in Cumbria.

Meredith searched first in the family parlor and then in the library before ringing for a maid. A middle-aged woman known as Carol appeared.

"Yes, my lady?" she asked, dipping into a curtsy.

"Have you seen Mrs. Archer?"

"I believe she went riding with Master Daniel and Mr. Archer, my lady. They should be returning soon."

"Thank you," Meredith said as she headed towards the foyer.

She wrapped a heavy wool shawl around her shoulders and went out of the house into the clean, crisp air. Autumn had arrived for certain, she thought as she walked past the stables to the freshly cut wheat fields. The scent of the season filled her lungs as she went about her walk. Off in the distance, she saw the three riding on the horizon, some hundred yards away. Sarah seemed to catch sight of Meredith who waved her arm up above her head. Within moments, Sarah was bounding toward her.

Sarah had always been an excellent horse woman, but had given up riding for a while after her first husband's death. Since her marriage to Simon however, she had returned to the activity full force. Her horse, a dapple grey named Morning Mist, came to a halt a few feet from Meredith.

"Hey-oh!" Sarah said, smiling. "Are you all right?"

Meredith handed her the paper that she had been carrying with her. Sarah appeared confused for a moment, but took it and began to read as her eyes scanned the article. She sighed loudly before handing it back to Meredith.

"The Times has a new gossip columnist and a poor one at that," she said. "How many times must she refer to herself as ‘this author,' really."

"Did you not read it?"

"I did," she said, leaning forward to hand her the paper back. "It's hardly an exposé. It was bound to be in the papers that Sir Kent had found someone to fancy. He's rather famous, you know."

"But why did they have to write about me?"

"Well, why not?" Sarah countered. "The wintertime is always slow for the gossip pages. It gives the readers something to speculate on during the colder months."

"Yes, but why must they speculate about me?" Meredith asked, trying to keep the whine out of her voice. "I never wanted to be in the papers."

"Why does the sun shine?" Sarah asked sarcastically. "It's just the way of it. And really, my dear, I wouldn't worry about it. The Times is a reputable paper and even if their columnist needs a lesson in crafting articles, they would never print anything that wasn't true."

"Which is exactly what I'm worried about," Meredith said. "What if they learn about … you know."

"They won't," Sarah said as a pair of grooms came up. One took the reins as another helped her off her horse. "And even if they did, they would need to confirm their sources and I can guarantee the Petersons are just as tight lipped as we are. I know Percy doesn't wish for a scandal, nor does his brother and Sir Peterson and his poor wife have been gone for a long time now."

"Have they?" Meredith asked, rather shocked. "I didn't know."

"Why would you?" Sarah asked, taking her sister's wrung hands. "I promise, Meredith. The Times won't print a word."

Meredith nodded without conviction.

"But what if…"

"What if what?"

Meredith shook her head, unwilling to speak on it anymore. "Never mind," she said. "You're right. There's nothing to be done I suppose."

"See? All will be well," Sarah said in a comforting voice. "Will you walk with me? I've some news I'd like to share with you."

Meredith locked arms with her sister and began to walk with her back to the house, leaving Simon and Daniel behind. Meredith peered over her shoulder at the echo of Daniel's laughter as the two rode off down the sloping field. Sarah's pace was slower than usual and Meredith gazed at her.

"Are you all right?"

"Very well, actually." Sarah cheeks were flushed. "I've a secret. Do you want to know what it is?"

Her eyes were twinkling with barely contained mirth. She was happy. Exceedingly so, it would presume.

"Tell me."

"I'm going to have a baby," she said in a rushed whisper, looking over her shoulder as if Simon could hear her, even though he was far out of sight. "Or at least, I believe I am."

"A baby?" Meredith said with excitement. She lowered her voice when Sarah's hand came up to her mouth. "Does Simon know?"

"He suspects, I believe," she said as they entered the house. "But I think he's more confused than anything."

"Confused?"

"Well, it's not exactly something we've ever discussed. And I doubt he's ever even known a woman who was with child let alone living with one."

"How could you not discuss such a thing? You're married."

"Yes, but I think we both rather assumed that Daniel was the only child in our lives. I never dreamed that we would… Well, that is, I know how it happened of course, but I guess it just never crossed my mind."

"Do you think he'll be pleased?"

"I hope so," Sarah said.

For the first time in a long time, Meredith saw genuine worry in her sister's face. Meredith held onto her arm and gave it a quick squeeze. Simon was madly in love with Sarah. Surely, he would be thrilled to hear the news.

"I'm sure he'll be thrilled," she said as they entered the family parlor room. "Shall I ring for tea? You must be cold."

"Yes, please," Sarah said.

Meredith rang for tea and then took a seat next to Sarah on the settee. She curved around to face her sister, who was positively glowing at the moment.

"Simon will be thrilled, I'm sure," she said reassuringly.

"I can only hope so," she said softly. "I mean, he's been grand with Daniel, truly, I couldn't have hoped for a better relationship between the two."

"Then what is it?"

Sarah shook her head.

"He and his brother had a rough start in life, as you know and I worry that he sees himself in a diminished light when it comes to being a parent," she said. "Of course, he's wrong. But men are so seldom aware when they're wrong."

The mention of Jack caused Meredith's heart to pinch. She had never given Jack's history much thought, only knowing him as the imposing adult. It was hard to imagine him as a child and yet, as soon as she thought of it, she couldn't help but smile. She imagined him being an arrogant youth, with a quick quip ready for anyone who spoke to him. He had probably been a terrible little imp.

"What's so funny?" Sarah asked, breaking her thoughts. "You've the queerest smile on your face."

Shaking her head, Meredith tried to refocus.

"Nothing," she said. "I'm sure you have nothing to worry about. Simon will be..."

"Thrilled?" Sarah asked, amused, as Meredith laughed at the repetition of the word.

"It seems there is no other word that will describe his reaction."

"Well, I'm not telling him yet. I've still some time before I begin to show, although," she leaned back and began to rub her midsection, "I fear I'll show a lot earlier this time around. With Daniel, I barely appeared to be with child for months."

"How far along are you?"

"Two months, at least. I believe we'll be having a spring baby."

"Oh," Meredith said, suddenly remembering that she had overheard the duchess speak of being with child. She assumed Mountebank and his wife would have their baby in the spring as well. When Sarah tilted her head, as if to ask what was wrong, Meredith shook her head. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to sound disappointed. It's just that, I learned something while we were at Dragmoor."

"Did you?" Sarah asked, scooting closer in a very unladylike fashion. "What did you hear?"

Meredith gave her a hesitant expression.

"Well, it was the duchess, actually. She mentioned that she was with child."

Meredith did not wish to repeat all she had heard, but the countenance on Sarah's face seemed to say that she was just as uneasy about the information as Meredith.

"Yes, Simon did say that Mountebank mentioned that to him before we left."

"Oh. Did he seem pleased?"

Sarah hesitated before answering.

"Why would you ask such a thing, Meredith?"

"Because they seemed so at odds during our stay and when the duchess told me about it, she said it as if she were, well, rather annoyed at the idea."

Sarah gave her a perplexed look.

"I fear that Mountebank and the duchess are not very pleased with their marriage." Sarah said, slightly distressed. "I hope they can settle whatever distress is between them."

"Perhaps it's a lover's quarrel," Meredith tried. "Many marriages have rocky starts. I'm sure the duke and duchess will find their peace. Eventually."

Sarah appeared doubtful and Meredith knew that they both were thinking the same thing. Hopefully, Mountebank and his duchess could work through whatever struggles that seemed to plague them.

When the tea tray was delivered, Meredith made herself busy with pouring and serving. She was just about to take a sip from her cup when the butler came into the room.

"Miss Beatrice Taylor, my lady," he said with a bow as he was quickly followed by Meredith and Sarah's youngest sibling.

Beatrice was a perfect blend of her older sisters. She had fair hair, lighter than Meredith's, but it curled, like Sarah's. Her eyes were large and brown, like Sarah's, but she had the same straight nose as Meredith. Her mouth was her own, though, a perfect cupid's bow upper lip atop a full bottom. She always seemed rather doe-eyed and serene but in this moment, she appeared somewhat excited and flushed.

"Bea?" Sarah said, instantly on her feet as she went towards her sister. "What on earth are you doing here?"

"Are you well?" Meredith asked. "Is Mama with you?"

"I—"

"Mama would never come here, not willingly," Sarah interrupted. "She has not forgiven me for marrying Simon."

"Then how did she get here?" Meredith asked.

"Well—" Beatrice tried to interject, but she was cut off again.

"I don't know, but she certainly didn't come with Mama."

"Well, she didn't travel here all by herself."

"If I may," Beatrice said loudly, causing both sisters to stop talking. "I ran away."

Both Meredith and Sarah stared at her.

"Oh, dear," Meredith said with a frown, while Sarah grinned. "Beatrice, what could have possessed you to run away?"

"Good for you, dear," Sarah said, putting her arm around Beatrice to direct her to sit on the settee. "Would you like some tea?"

"Sarah, really. Mama is probably beside herself with grief."

"It's her own fault, no doubt," Sarah said without sympathy. "She's kept Beatrice locked up for the better part of year just to spite me."

"She has not."

"Well, not just to spite Sarah," Beatrice said, frowning. "She isn't pleased with me at all." Beatrice shook her head as she accepted a cup of tea from Sarah. "She's growing worse and worse by the day. It's been especially bad since Sarah married Simon."

"See?" Sarah said. "What did I tell you."

Meredith could hardly argue. She had lived with her mama for years before she herself had needed to escape. Their mama had long laid the blame of nearly all their family heartaches at Meredith's feet and while she had always taken the brunt of her mama's brash harassment, Meredith wondered if her absence had left Beatrice alone and without a buffer.

"Her mind seems addled," Beatrice began. "She obsesses night and day about marrying me off to a prince. A prince! That is her bare minimum now and she is refusing anyone less. She refused an offer from the Earl of Summerset, which I am glad for as he is at least twice my age, but her reasoning is because he isn't royal. Can you believe it? It's insanity."

"Why is she so set on a prince?" Sarah asked.

"I think to make up for the fact that she no longer has a countess as a daughter," Beatrice said apologetically. "She's become frightful since your nuptials. She throws things and demands perfection from me and I try, I truly do, but then she'll change her mind about the color dress I'm wearing, when only that morning she demanded it. Or decide suddenly that I shouldn't wear my hair a certain way, a way, I mind you, that she herself picked out." Beatrice shook her head again. "I cannot bear it. It's as if she's trying to drive me mad on purpose. She is not herself, sisters. I am fearful, not only for her wellbeing, but for mine. I cannot live another day with her."

Meredith and Sarah shared a concerned look.

"We understand," Sarah said, wrapping her arms affectionately around her youngest sister. "And you shan't ever have to go back."

"Sarah," Meredith said again. "Mama will demand she return."

"She can't possibly return home. You heard her. Mama is not well and if that's the case, she cannot take care of Beatrice anymore."

"But who will take care of her?" Meredith asked. "I know she is harsh and I know she isn't very pleasant, at all, but we cannot abandon her."

"What will you have us do?"

"Perhaps," Meredith said, dreading her next words. "Perhaps, if Beatrice truly cannot stand to live there anymore, I should return home. If Mama is truly unwell, and we know it was my fault for causing it, I should be the one to take care of her."

"Your fault?" Sarah said, before it dawned on her. "Oh, for heaven's sake, Meredith. You running away did not drive her to become a callous old woman. She blames you for Papa when he was already on his death bed. Had you stayed and held vigil over him, he would have still passed." She took a deep breath. "Mama has been bitter for a lifetime. It's only seeming to be getting worse as she ages."

"Oh, Meredith. I do not want you to go," Beatrice said, worried. "I shouldn't have come."

"It's all right," Meredith said. "I've lived away too long."

"No one is going anywhere," Sarah said and Meredith could have sworn she stomped her foot, though it was hidden beneath her skirts. While she had technically given up her title, no one ever managed to be as regal as Sarah when she was on a mission. "If Mama's mind is truly unwell, we have the recourse to take care of her. But I refuse to have either one of you return to her home, only to take her abuse because you feel for whatever reason, that you are due it. Now, I will write Mama, informing her that you are here and we will settle this properly. Is that clear?"

"Yes," Beatrice said, visually relaxing as her shoulders slumped.

"Very well," Meredith agreed, while she and Sarah shared an anxious expression.

They knew, even if their mama was in poor health, that she would never give up Beatrice to be raised in a house she considered ‘morally impure.' Still, Meredith knew they had to try. She hadn't realized how much her mama's constant guilt had weighed her down for years. Until she came to live with Sarah, Meredith had been quiet and accommodating. It had taken nearly a year to remember that she wasn't a shrinking violet. She had thrived living with her sister and knew the Beatrice should have that same chance.

The sisters were silent for a long moment, all three lost in their own thoughts. They spent the rest of the day in each other's company and Meredith had felt an odd sense of closeness with them that she hadn't felt in many years, not since they were girls. It was a reassuring sort of feeling and they seemed to take a great deal of pleasure in each other's presence and sharing news, such as Sarah's pregnancy. It was a bonding time that they hadn't experienced in a long time.

That evening after dinner Meredith retired to her room. Though she had been preoccupied with her sisters, Jack had never been far from her mind and she wondered what he was doing. Had he read the paper? What would he think of her being linked to Sir Kent?

She wanted to talk to him, to see him. She was still upset with his response to her request to wait at Dragmoor. She disliked waiting just as much as he did, but what choice did they have? Why should a year matter? And would he really keep away from her? Meredith felt her heart ache at the thought of not seeing him again.

She was nearly self-pitying when a knock on the door caught her attention. It was the maid, Carol, holding something to her chest.

"Yes?" Meredith said, rereading the paper.

"Pardon me, Miss, but it's urgent. Well, the delivery boy said it was urgent."

"What is?"

"This," she handed her the letter. "He said I was to give it to you directly, night or day."

Meredith's brow furrowed as she took the letter.

"Thank you, Carol."

The maid bobbed her head and exited the room quickly. Meredith did not recognize the handwriting, but opened it quickly.

Dearest wife,

How I've missed you. I believe we are long overdue for a conversation. If that is so, meet me at the Swan on Stokes Pub tomorrow at noon.

Yours,

C