Two

Eveline

16 May 1815 (one month prior to Waterloo)

I blinked repetitively as the words on the parchment blended all together. Though I should have felt some relief knowing this day finally arrived, I felt numb. Another death . Another unknown future.

I glanced at the date of the missive and realized it had been penned six weeks ago.

3 Apr 1815

Dearest Eveline,

I am writing this letter to you on the eve of my death. As grim as that is, it speaks the truth. And with all forthrightness, this missive is not by my hand but dictated to another. This is precisely what we expected, though I had hoped, by some miracle, it would not come to fruition.

Eveline, I have the utmost respect and gratitude in my heart that you and I were introduced. Though it has always been deemed a suitable match, I could not have wished for a more compassionate and kind soul to marry. Yet, as we were both aware, the transaction proved necessary for more apparent needs.

I knew this ailment would take me as it did my sweet Deshane one year ago. And, although this should be heartbreaking, I’m to now join the love of my life in the eternities… or so my pastor keeps inferring.

I recognize that I placed a great burden on you when we wed. Thank you for seeing to my interests there in Britain. Shipments will not cease upon my death, but it is now entirely your prerogative to keep the process advancing in its present circumstances. As society dictates, Deshane would have never been accepted amongst the ton, and my business could have suffered significantly. As my assets grew, so did my need for propriety and trust with continued associations which you have maintained admirably.

While you are now the sole proprietor of all my assets, there is but one final request I must ask of you and while I will lay in a cold dark grave somewhere in the Indies by the time you read this, you will have little time to decide the path in which you choose.

Mr. Hanover will divest the remaining necessities in person.

Yours,

Sir Colin Turner

Standing on the front steps of my rented Tudor-style home in the Paddington neighborhood, I glanced up to see Mr. Hanover positioned beside his carriage. He opened the door and, with some persuasion, he coaxed the occupants out. A boy who appeared no older than four years of age descended the steps, gripping the hand of a woman who followed closely behind. While the boy’s features resembled the fairness of a Brit, his nurse bore exotic features in both her complexion and black hair.

“Ma’am,” Mr. Hanover said as he bowed his head and pointed to the child. “May I introduce Patrick Colin Turner and Miss Banja Lorne.”

I nodded as the words silently lingered somewhere between my ears and my mind. Patrick Colin Turner? Sir Colin’s son? I took a deep breath and forced a smile. “A pleasure to meet you both. I’m Eveline… Turner.” Though it seemed odd that I added the family name to my introduction, nothing about this situation seemed ordinary. “Please, please come inside and out of the sun.”

The two guests remained silent but quickly followed me inside to the foyer.

“May we speak privately in your study?” Mr. Hanover asked. A request he often made, for we met frequently from the day Sir Colin introduced me to the older gentleman with graying hair and numerous wrinkles. Over time, we developed a strong relationship, spending many hours together pouring over Sir Colin’s books and managing his businesses.

Fortunately, my husband looked past the traditional roles of English women and placed a great deal of trust in the decisions I made regarding his plantation shipments and distribution. I grew to respect Mr. Hanover as he not only instructed me but also heeded my advice. A rarity of our time. Very few members of the ton considered a woman’s opinion in business an asset, especially in something as demanding as cotton yields. I was surely blessed that Mr. Hanover, his team, and my husband did just that. Late husband . The words wedged in my throat like I had swallowed a lump of lard.

Reflecting on the letter I only just read, I ruminated over the contents in my head. The truth that I wed Sir Colin knowing that he might die in short order from his ailment was kept confidential, but it could not have been a more suitable arrangement. He saved me, my mother, and sister from the poor house when my father’s inadequate planning came to light upon his death. And, while Sir Colin tarried halfway across the world with the true love of his life, Deshane, with the help of a few trusted men, I managed to keep Colin’s property and possessions prosperous.

I gestured for the woman and child to take a seat on the closest chaise and alerted a footman to retrieve Mrs. Donovan, my housekeeper. The young boy with light brown hair and piercing blue eyes peered up at me with a mixture of fatigue and fright.

I should have said something proper, though I rarely entertained guests, so I stood there dumbstruck until Mrs. Donovan arrived. I clapped at her entrance. “Thank you for coming so quickly. We h—have guests from afar.” I bit my bottom lip. It had been ages since I relied on my formal training.

Mr. Hanover cleared his throat. I am certain this is where I was supposed to say something practiced and genteel.

Mrs. Donovan’s eyes lit up as she rubbed her hands on her apron. “Come, let me fetch you something to eat.” She gestured toward Miss Lorne and the child. “And then I can show you to your bedchambers. You must be utterly exhausted.”

“Yes,” I pointed to her in relief. I watched as the corners of her lips twitched. She surely was having a good chuckle inside her head, the dear girl. She knew the only people who visited were Mr. Hanover and the two men who received Colin’s shipments at the docks, Mr. Baston and Mr. Robinson. The only gentry I entertained was my childhood friend, Lord Lucas Walsh and his wife, Lady Helena, but Luke had known me since childhood.

All awkwardness and everything.

In truth, he’d seen me in the worst of ways, climbing trees, blind man’s bluff, hide and seek, swimming, shooting bows and arrows, and he even taught me how to shoot a rifle. He was more like family.

I gestured to Mr. Hanover to join me in the study. Our current rented home fared a bit larger than the last, but we still only employed a limited staff. No butler. And since the nursery remained quite empty, it might require suitable dusting before a child might dwell within. Thankfully, our two guest chambers would be sufficient for now.

Though I had yet to hear why these precise guests were in our home, I could surmise. Not only did the child bear Sir Colin’s name, the young boy exhibited Colin’s fair features, more notably his bright blue eyes. It was clear to me that Patrick must be his and Deshane’s child. My heart stirred with a mixture of envy and compassion. I had always wanted to be a mother, but when I did not get pregnant after Sir Colin and I consummated our marriage, I no longer believed it would be part of my future.

In all forthrightness, my husband only took me to the marriage bed once to render the contract legal and binding. Even then, I remember how difficult the intimate act was for us both, considering our hearts were attached elsewhere. And though my soul ached for companionship, even the smallest amount, I had no choice but to marry and marry quickly. Fortunately for me, the arrangement was not a cruel one. My mother, sister, and I lived comfortably and adequately, a far cry from where we would have been.

Entering the study, I gestured for Mr. Hanover to take a seat in the closest wingback chair. He obliged, and only waited for me to join him before he spoke. Never one to dulcify the truth, he announced without an ounce of sentiment attached, “Sir Colin’s final wish is for you to raise this child as your own.”

Though my gasp never surfaced audibly, it was likely seen splashed across my face. My heart thumped swiftly in my chest as I tried to gather my thoughts. “How, indeed?” I leaned against the cushioned back of the chair. “We only just completed our second year of marriage. The boy must be four years of age.”

“Yes, he will turn five in September.”

Pressing my palm to my forehead, I stood and paced near the window, tempted to open it and allow fresh air within. I tugged repeatedly on the collar of my dress as if it choked my throat. “People within our circle will know I didn’t bear a child,” I whispered, for fear I owned a great secret now.

Mr. Hanover arched a brow. “Mrs. Turner, what circle precisely?” He said this in the most delicate of ways. “You have not been out in society since you wed. I’m certain very few people are even aware of you.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat. I have always respected how candid he was, but this struck a chord. “Our business contacts, for one.”

“I can count on one hand the men who are aware that you are behind a significant portion of the decisions and know you by name.”

I felt my heart beat faster as he exhaled slowly through his nose. “Do not concern yourself at this time with what others might presume. You are a bright, intelligent woman and have much to be proud of.”

Turning away from the window, I stared at him. His compliments were rare but, when issued, carried a great deal of weight.

“Ma’am, Sir Colin made it quite clear the choice is yours. Despite the binding language of the contract for you to manage all his assets, which now includes Patrick, he wanted you to have a choice.”

Compassion consumed me on behalf of the young boy. He must have suffered so much with the death of his mother and now with the death of his father, and then to be torn from the only home he knew. But while I yearned to be a mother myself, desire and ability were singularly dissimilar. I knew very little of the occupation.

“What were the arrangements if I said no?”

“Patrick and his nurse would go to Sir Colin’s sister, Miss Agatha Hughes, in Bath. Though I suspect she will demand a hefty allowance to accompany him.”

I met Sir Colin’s sister once. With nothing kind to say about anyone, she lived a lonely and bitter life.

“What are his chances of being accepted here in London, as a by-blow ?”

“He is the blood son of Sir Colin Turner and will be raised as such. The strength of your impeccable reputation will thwart the worst of the rumor mill, but because of your enormous inheritance, I suspect you will not suffer.”

“Enormous inheritance?”

“Sir Colin has left everything to you, Mrs. Turner. Including his lucrative plantations.” He narrowed his eyes and studied me. “Did you truly not believe he would do as he promised per the contract?”

My rapid heartbeat slowly subsided. “I did not read the contract, sir.” Ashamed of my confession, I glanced down at my hands. “I, uh, only required a home and basic necessities within my reach. I asked for nothing in addition to that.”

He chuckled. “Even in his final letter he named you sole proprietor.” I brushed my hand over the pocket of my dress where the letter now lay folded. “You are the reason his circumstances have improved here in England while he managed his plantations abroad. Of course, Mrs. Turner, there are always potential buyers if your wish is to be rid of anything associated with the Indies.”

I tilted my head. “Whatever for?”

“Well, I presumed that the idea of another woman—”

“—No.” I cut him off. “That is not the issue.” Though I didn’t confide in our solicitor as to the specifics of my decision to enter an exclusively transactional marriage, he may have also assumed the truth of Sir Colin with another woman pained me. In all honesty, it warmed my heart that two people found a way to be together in life and now in death. I possessed no ill feelings toward the Indies, Colin’s plantations, or Deshane. “I only fear the necessity of traveling there myself.”

“Sir Colin has an excellent manager who will lead in his stead, so there really is no need. Although…” He studied me. “I recognize that what I’m about to suggest is premature in nature, but a dowry of plantations gives you a great deal of influence when considering your next husband.”

My eyes widened. Next husband?

How could I even think about another marriage? I only just learned of my husband’s death a quarter of an hour ago, despite it occurring nearly two months ago.

“Forgive me.” He shook his head. “I have overstepped. I should not have introduced such a thought. Not today of all days.”

My pulse slowed and I smiled my forgiveness.

“However,” he paused until I peered at him again. “I fear I must caution you. The news of your wealth will spread quickly.” His brows furrowed. “We must prepare you for the response…” His sigh rumbled low and gravely. “And for the onslaught of men who will not only find your beauty desirous but your coffers.”

I froze, unable to think one solitary logical thought. I had never been on the receiving end of desire.

“We can discuss all the details of the will at a later time, however, regarding the boy, I will return in the morning for your answer.” He stood and dipped his chin. “Good day, Mrs. Turner.”

Though it seemed there truly was no decision to be made, I recognized the wisdom in letting the newfound information sink in overnight. Even if I didn’t have a shilling to my name, I could not sacrifice that innocent child to the claws of Colin’s sister.

“Thank you, Mr. Hanover, I shall see you in the morning.”

When he opened the door, my sister April rapidly stood upright, then lowered her head and turned away. She had been caught eavesdropping.

“April?” I tried to sound stern.

She smiled and ran to me, clutching my hands. “Is it true, Evie? Will we have a child in the house? Do you have a son?”

I put my finger to my lips to shush her. Despite the loyalty of the staff, a bit of tongue wag always occurred below stairs. I glanced at the light in my sister’s deep brown eyes. We had often been told we could pass for twins if it weren’t for the height I held over her. I smiled and winked, allowing her to savor the idea momentarily. We had so little to celebrate as of late that I did not wish to douse that so soon.

“April,” I cautioned. “We must proceed cautiously.” Then I suddenly remembered the news that generated this whole conversation—Sir Colin’s demise. “Your brother-in-law has passed away.”

April’s smile faltered. Though they were only acquainted during his short visits, his kindness affected us all. “Oh, my dear, Evie.” She led me inside the study to the chairs once more and urged me to sit. “I know that we expected this, but it does not take the sting away.”

“I’m not sad,” I reassured. “He is with Deshane now.” I remained standing and brushed my hands across my skirt. I had no time to spare. We have guests… or are they… family now? Whatever the case, I needed to issue a proper welcome.