Chapter 1

To Town

"Must you go so soon? I have hardly had my fill of you and you say you must go." Sarah was lying in bed, on her side, so Martin had full view of her ample bosom. "I get so lonely when you are away and you stay gone much too long."

Martin looked over at her as he was abluting rather quickly in order to escape her attempts at luring him back to her bed. "As the wealthiest widow in Swansea, I rather doubt your lack of male company, madam." He finished drying his face. "And I have been here for three days. I would think you have had more than enough of me. My business here is done for the time being." He reached over for his breeches. She quickly snatched them.

"One more day–what would it hurt?"

He reached for his pants again. "I have gone through the mines, checked on the new smelting equipment, and gone over all the books. There is nothing else I need to do here." He sat down on the bed, looking at her–and his pants. "I even went over the books of your company. You know I will be back in six months or so." He took a deep, exhausting breath. "You know I always return. Who can resist those?" He reached over and lightly pinched her nipple. He was ready to go home. He was happy at how the copper business was going. Extremely happy. But three days here. Three days spending every night with Sarah. It was time to head for London.

"Martin, I will have no one to play chess with, or drink scotch with, or have great sex with. The men in this town are either old or boring or both."

He finally snatched his pants and stood. "If you are that unhappy, lonely, sex-starved, then move. Devil take it, Sarah. ‘Tis not like you can't afford to move. Rent a place in Cardiff for a while, or even find a place in England."

Sarah's lashes lowered over her eyes. "Please, Martin."

"That trick does not work with me, Sarah. "It is old."

"Then one more fuck before you go." She stood.

He stepped his foot into one leg of his pants. She walked over to him, reached into the front of his breeches, grabbed his cock, and began to stroke it.

"Please, Martin." She had that ‘come hither' look.

He let his pants fall to the floor. "What the deuce. Come on."

"Mama, why would Papa make the solicitor, Mr. Trenchard, the executor of his will? We need money to take care of the tenants, the grounds, and our servants. It is frustrating to write to him every month, asking for money that Papa allotted for us."

"I'm unsure. Your father barely discussed it before he left us." Mama continued to stare out the coach window. She had been mentally absent from everything and everyone. Things that should have rested on Mama's shoulders were forced upon Muriel. If she would not investigate, she feared the McDonnell estate would fall to ruin. Muriel would never let that happen.

"I don't like him and I don't trust him. How did Papa end up with him? Why did he not use someone from parliament? As Earl of Norfolk, certainly there had to be someone that would have done that for him. What happened to the barrister Papa was friends with–could he have done this for him?"Mama continued to look out the window; detached from everything around her. "My darling girl, we have been over this. I am so grateful that your father had a will. He could not leave the responsibility to your brother; Curtis is a mere child. Luckily, your father specified in the will that Curtis would assume responsibility at eighteen. Otherwise, we would be waiting until he was twenty-one. It is a moot point, as Curtis is only fourteen. Papa wanted all of us to live a good life, not worry about how to continue to live as we have been." Mama did not understand. Muriel was concerned about the lack of funds. Something had to be done to obtain the arrearage and re-establish consistent monthly payments.

Mother's mind had been scattered. Papa had been outside with Curtis when he dropped to his knees. The doctor said it was sudden and painless. Papa was dead before he hit the ground. On top of that, now they were having to deal with this Trenchard person. Once they got to Town, Muriel would go visit this solicitor and attempt to straighten the problem.

They had been riding in the coach for two days and Mama was weary before they left Norwich. "You love the Summer's Day , townhouse. And St. John's Wood is beautiful, is it not?" Muriel felt the need to fill the silence.

"Yes, darling, it is. It reminds me of Papa." She pulled out her kerchief. "I'm sorry, dear girl. I miss him more than you will ever know. He was–no, he is the love of my life. When we first married, we moved into that townhouse. He named it–"

"Yes, Mama, I know. After the Shakespeare sonnet." Mama had told her this story so many times.

"Then it will bring back happy memories for you, Mama. Let us celebrate Papa and the way he wanted to care for us. We are more fortunate than most, as well you know." She was trying to make her feel better. Papa had been dead a little over a year. They had stayed in Norfolk, his county seat, during the mourning period. Now that the year had passed, she had finally agreed to go to Town. It was important to find out about the disbursement of the money due them. Muriel figured the best way to obtain the much needed information and funds was to see this Mr. Trenchard in person. Her mother was not well. Muriel had encouraged her to write to her friends in Town hoping they might bring her out of her deep depression.

It had taken him three days to return to London. Martin should have gone to Aberdeen to check on the Rubislaw quarry. He had not visited there in almost a year. He should have gone to the estate in Bristol. He had contracted his good friend, 5 th Earl of Newcastle, Henry Addam's company, to add a wing to Claymont Estate. He had been there a month ago. He could have stopped there, but he had enough paperwork to address when he got to the Claymont townhouse to keep him busy.

Perhaps Angelo's, was somewhere Martin needed to go. But h e felt like pounding on something . Jackson's would be the perfect place to rid himself of some of this…frustration…

anxiety ... something. He had a busy life. It had been that way since his father, the late Marquess, had died. Was it the work? Too much work? He thought not. He actually enjoyed the businesses he had been left to manage and grow. Perhaps he needed to find another mistress to enjoy while in London.

As soon as he went through all the correspondence, wrote all the letters, Martin would go by the New Jonathan's ; see how his stock investments were fairing. He belonged to all the pugilist academies. Since Mendoza's, was next door to the Stock Exchange, he would go there and spar with some poor unfortunate fellow. Perhaps that would calm him down; somewhat. He did not understand his restlessness or the reason for it; whatever it was, he wanted it gone. Afterward, he would send notes to his three comrades to join him at Angelo's on the morrow.

"Martin, how can you order another scotch after the work-out we had at Angelo's?" Fred had barely been able to drink down his second scotch.

"The kitchen will be open within minutes. Relax and we will eat and then go clean up for a nice evening of cards and light skirts. What say you, gentlemen?" Martin could drink most of the gentlemen in White's , under the table, which he never considered to be some kind of accomplishment, yet others were reasonably impressed. Quelle that.

"I think it sounds like an evening that I would highly enjoy." Fred shook his head, running his hands through his hair.

"Fred, what the deuce? You are not too exhausted from fencing?" Henry had met Fred and Martin at Eton. They became friends when they were all on the chess team. They were all good players.

"I am exhausted." Fred looked at his old friend. "How is it that a mountain can move as gracefully as you can?" Fred and Martin had been friends since they were in leading strings. Fred had been a short, thin young man, but had grown and filled out as he reached adulthood, even so, he still had to look up to Martin – literally.

John, another of the group, was nice looking and tall. He was about the same size as Fred and very smart with the investments. He was another that met the three when they all joined the chess club at Eton. All of them together made quite an awesome impression. None of them particularly enjoyed the season as the young debutantes gathered around them like meat presented to starving animals. At least Fred and Henry would dance from time to time. Martin and John never bothered. "Why dance with someone you don't care one whit about." Was John's opinion .

"Fred, it was hardly up to me to decide on my physical person. In all the years the three of you have known me, I am sure at least once you noticed my father. I am unsure as to whether you two ever met my father's father, my grandfather." I come from a long line of mountains." Martin laughed. His stature was often the topic of conversation. Martin was indeed a mountain of a young man. He was taller than most, broad shouldered, and strong as two oxen. Coal black hair that he loved to grow a little longer than the norm with ebony eyes. No one dared tease him about his choice of hairstyle. He was friendly and congenial unless you crossed him or those he considered his, and that included Fred, John, and Henry.

Fred looked around in search their waiter. "Ah, there he is." Fred waved to capture the man's attention. Mr. Wallace nodded his head in recognition. "Good, now I can eat. Perhaps then I will feel a bit better."

Henry looked to his comrades. "Damn, I now recall that Mother asked me to accompany her to the Drury Lane Theatre Royale, as her favorite actor, John Kemble, is performing in the Shakespearian play Coriolanus. And it is the premier of the rebuilt theatre. I would imagine anyone and everyone will be there tonight. Come with us. I beg you. If you come, I promise to pay for our entertainment at our favorite spot in Covent Garden, Temple of Venus . What do you think?"

"I am bowing out. Too much to do. Paperwork is building up. Sorry, Henry." John really was not interested in going anyway.

"I will go with you. I think you may very well be broke by the end of our evening at Venus ." Both Martin and Fred goaded Henry. "I think we should eat and then be on our way. I need to make sure my dress clothes are presentable, otherwise I will have my poor valet, Mr. Simmons, frantic with trying to dress me appropriately for the the-aat-tah!" Martin's imitation of Mr. Simmons' exaggerated English was perfect.

Martin was looking for Mr. Wallace about the time he came to the table with three dinner plates. "And another scotch for me, please."

Two coaches rolled up to No. 72 Park Street. The coachman, Jimmy stepped down and opened the coach door.

Marie, Rosa, and her mother, Amina, stepped out of the coach. "It feels like home to me, does it not, Marie?" Amina had practically grown up with Marie, the Lady Marie McDonnell. Rosa and Muriel had grown up together as infants. Rosa was Muriel's best friend and confident.

"Yes, I dare say, it is very much like home. I suppose we should go in and find out whether I sent a note to Mr. Sanders, letting him know we were coming."

"You did . I posted it for you. You have had too much on your mind. You need to get in here and try to relax, please." Amina had been worried sick about Marie since Papa died so suddenly.

The door was opened and there stood Mr. Sanders. "My goodness! It is certainly wonderful to see all of you. I was beginning to think you would never return." Mr. Sanders was short and thin with thick brown hair and had a deep, distinguished-sounding voice about him. It had been a year since Muriel had seen him. He looked older, of course. It was very likely that he thought the same of her.

"Mr. Sanders, are all our rooms ready?" Mama asked as she looked at the staircase; likely too fatigued to climb them.

"Yes, my lady. On the second floor; your same room with Amina in the room next to you. "

Muriel and Rosa had always been on the third floor. Even when they were in leading strings. Of course, then Rosa's mum would carry them both upstairs. "Shall we go upstairs and see how the terrace fares?"

"Yes, let's." Rosa's earliest memory was of Muriel and Rosa's mum, Amina, in that house. She and Muriel played together in that house. They would chase each other up and down the stairs. Slide down the barristers. Sneak into the kitchen. Steal biscuits and tarts. When they were older, Lord McDonnell hired a tutor for both of them. The first governess was disgruntled over teaching a young black girl how to read and write so she was let go. Lord McDonnell interviewed several until he found a governess that would accept Rosa.

Rosa was getting Muriel and herself settled into their bedchambers when Muriel called out to her. She needed assistance. "Rosa, help me get dressed. I must go and meet with this solicitor today. Mama won't go and I must find out the reason for these long delays in disbursing our money."

"Then I think you should wear the silk mauve. You look beautiful in that dress. You will mesmerize him." Rosa went and retrieved the dress. "And let me do your hair."

"You know Mama does not like me wearing any shade of red. She says red is for men. It is a strong, virile, masculine color.' She reached for Rosa's hand. "Do I sound like her?"

"Well, you might sound close." Rosa brought out the dress. "If you want to meet this solicitor; you will need to be strong. He is very likely going to insinuate that as a female, you need not worry about such things. Remember, you can't let him do that to you, you hear me. "

"Yes, Rosa, I hear you. You must come with me. I need your support, so you need to get dressed as well. Then you can do my hair. I wish to catch him unaware that I am coming."

They dressed, Rosa coiffed Muriel's hair, then Muriel looked over the letters Mr. Trenchard had sent regarding the monetary declarations in the will. "I shall put these in my reticule so I will have them, if need be." Muriel gave a quick look at herself in the mirror and was ready. "Rosa, are you ready?"

"Indeed. I pray the trek will be worth the effort."

Mr. Sanders assisted them with their pelisses and out the door they went. Jimmy assisted them into the coach. "Where are we going, Lady Muriel?"

"No. 107 Cheapside, Jimmy." He thanked her and closed the cabin door. "I hope he is in. I never considered that as a possibility. I want Papa's will. We do not have it. I want it."

" I believe your idea to catch him unaware is a good one. He will have no time for preparation. Let us hope he is in. If not, perhaps we could go to Hatchard's. What do you think about doing that afterward?"

"We need to see this man first. I may be too disturbed to go anywhere afterward."

As they pulled up to No. 107 Cheapside, Muriel was taken by the five story structure. The facade was made of Portland stone, with five large archways leading to the inside of the building. Mr. Trenchard's office was on the first floor. Before they entered, Muriel was inclined to remind Rosa. They had been in the country for over a year. It would be easy to forget the odd looks and questions that could occur. It was unusual enough for a white woman to enter into a building where men's business was conducted; even more unusual to be accompanied by a black woman. "We will keep walking. If there is a doorman present, act as if we are not aware of him. If he tries to stop us, I will tell him Barrister William Garrow is expecting us." Rosa nodded. "I know this is unpleasant for you. Sadly, it is not much better for me. We are both considered to be inconsequential , the property of someone–some...some male."

"I feel bad for both of us. We are worth so much more." Rosa was a year older and had observed the overarching attitudes of the Englishmen. Muriel always felt a sharp pain in the pit of her stomach when she had these conversations with Rosa. It was never necessary when they were home in Norwich. People knew the entire family; had known Rosa since she was born. "If we are unable to get answers as equals, we play the role men have deemed appropriate for us and we win at their game. Men can be silly about so many things."

"I love you Muriel. You are a smart girl. You know how to get through the maze."

"I would not be able to do it without a certain buxom, black-eyed beauty."

Rosa took Muriel's hand, "Shall we proceed?" As they went through the archway, there was indeed a doorman. He looked at them both rather curiously, likely too taken aback to produce a question. Muriel walked on as if she knew where she was going.

She whispered to Rosa, "Try to look around to see names on the doors without being too conspicuous."

They kept walking until Rosa noticed the name ‘Trenchard,' "This way."

Muriel opened the door and walked into the office with Rosa right behind her. There was a clerk sitting at a desk in the front of an office. "I have come to see Mr. Herbert Trenchard."

"Do you have an–"

She cut him off. "Tell him Lady McDonnell is here. Please don't keep me waiting."

The clerk seemed confused by her arrogance. "Now. Please." She exclaimed as she presented an air of agitation. The clerk stood and quickly disappeared .

"Did I sound intimidating?" She covered her mouth with her hand.

"You did. You truly did." Rosa reached over and squeezed her hand.

Within minutes, a tall, thin gentleman with light brown hair and brown eyes, in a nicely tailored suit came out to the reception area, looking a bit disgruntled.

"Were you looking for me?" His voice was more tenor than she was used to.

"Yes, are you Mr. Herbert Trenchard?" She emphasized ‘Herbert' as she found the name most unattractive.

"Yes, I am he. And you are...?"

"Did your clerk not tell you? I am Lady Muriel McDonnell. I wish to speak with you regarding my father's will."

"Oh, of course. Would you come this way?" He did not sound happy. He appeared tense as he led her to his office room. "Your girl, can stay in the waiting room."

"First, she is not my girl. Second, she will accompany me –there will be no argument about that." He shrugged his shoulders. He waved them both in, then walked around to his desk and sat down. "Now, what may I help you with?"

"I have sent you several letters requesting that the money my father designated for us to receive on both a monthly and annual basis. Your replies are not acceptable. The McDonnell family has large accounts to address. Your delinquent and absent payments are not acceptable." She was proud of herself for sounding so – so – regal.

As Herbert looked at Muriel, he suddenly realized two things; one, she was an astonishingly beautiful woman, and two, she was going to be a formidable force that he would have to deal with, one way or another. He must definitely have to change his demeanor with her or it would erode quickly. "I would like to express my sympathy to you and your family for the loss of Lord McDonnell."

"Yes, it is appreciated even if he has been gone for over a year. I want to discuss the issues the surviving McDonnell family is having with the money. Your failure to send the much needed allotments is unacceptable. We have land to keep up, homes, tenants, servants, taxes, just to mention a few things and we are missing payments. Others that are sent are delinquent which has caused many issues for us. I am here to discover the source of the issue and attempt to alleviate them. My mother has enough on her shoulders without having to worry over something that should not even be problematic. So what is the issue and how may you – fix it? This needs to be rectified immediately."

"Well, in my defense, I do have many clients, so I would have to review the will to determine how the money is to be disbursed. I do apologize for my being unable to recall this particular will off hand. I would like to pull the will and review it. Perhaps, after I have had time to look it over, I might come to your townhouse and discuss what I have reviewed."

"Excuse me, I believe you mentioned you were unable to recall the will, yet you know we have a townhouse?"

"Well, of course. I know the McDonnell name and I am aware of both addresses as I have sent correspondence to Lord McDonnell in the past. Let me say again, I would very much like to come, perhaps this evening, and discuss the will. Would that be acceptable?"

"It is not acceptable, but it will have to do for now. I will make sure my mother is present for the discussion."

"Now, would sometime between six and seven o'clock this evening be acceptable?"

"Yes, it will have to do." Her face displayed dissatisfaction.

Herbert stood indicating the discussion was over. Muriel and Rosa stood as he walked around and opened his office door for them. "It was wonderful to meet you, Lady McDonnell. I will see you this evening."

"Yes and I expect answers when you come." Muriel gave him a staunch look as Rosa and she walked out of the office. When they reached the hallway Muriel asked. "Did I sound tough enough to cause him concern?"

"I believe you did an excellent job. I don't like him."

"I still failed to get the answers I needed. I think he was stalling. I think he was insulted that a woman would come into his office demanding answers. For now, he will have to deal with a lady or two." She smiled, feeling somewhat better about the possibility of getting answers, and money.

"Muriel, ‘tis the way of it. Women have no place in business or politics, so they affirm. There is something about him that I don't trust. Muriel, why did your father hire this man?"

"That is an excellent good question. I know our Father, Rosa. He never would have hired someone so untrustworthy. I need to find out who recommended him to Papa."