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December 17, 1818
Birch House
M
rs. Lynette Hodgins, a widow of five years, glanced about the genteel shabbiness of Birch House’s drawing room. The Oriental rugs, once rich with color were now faded from use and threadbare in spots. The cushions on the Louis XIV furniture had been lush steel blue crushed velvet when they were new when she’d been a young girl on the cusp of enjoying her Come Out. A few retained stains or signs of wear, but that was easily hidden by turning them around or avoiding them altogether. Some of the gilt paint had chipped from the legs of furniture, all sure signs that the coffers of the house were alarmingly empty.
Never had she thought she’d return to the Warwickshire countryside, and not especially as a widow at nine and twenty. Even more startling was the fact she had an exuberant seven-year-old son, who even now lounged beneath one of the tables as he played quietly with a handful of tin soldiers, the paint long ago faded from the uniforms and visages of the figures. In fact, they’d once belonged to the boy’s father, God rest his soul these past five years.
“John, won’t you come and have a cup of tea with your grandmother and me?” she asked, even though she knew he’d turn the offer down. Tea wasn’t his favorite beverage.
“I’d rather not, Mama, for I’m in the middle of a great battle.”
“Very well, but I’ll set aside a plate for you anyway.” As was her custom, Lynette put a few tiny seed cakes and biscuits on a saucer and then moved it to the edge of the table. The selections from the tea tray were rather grim, another silent testament to the state of affairs with her mother. Her son would be along eventually, and if she put enough milk and sugar in the tea, he’d drink that too. With a sigh, she turned her attention to her mother, Lady Ruddick, widow to Baron Ruddick, who’d passed on nearly eight years before.
Those years remained a blur, for she’d fled from a relationship, took up with a military officer, married him, became pregnant, went into mourning for her father, birthed her son, and then went into mourning again when her husband had been killed on a faraway battlefield. At times it felt she hadn’t had time to catch her breath.
“Why didn’t you tell me before your finances were so dire?” Lynette asked in a low voice. She didn’t mind her son overhearing the conversation, for she believed children ought to know both the good and bad sides of life to help them as they grew and matured.
Her mother shrugged. The lace edging her widow’s cap bobbed with her every movement and she drew a worn, woolen shawl more tightly about her shoulders. Indeed, there was a chill in the air, for the fire was meager at best. Coal was expensive and without paying for regular wood deliveries that left little options. “It was none of your concern and you have your own life.”
“I left Surrey to come here to Bedford for you. Shall we talk about how to raise the necessary coin to pay your bills? You can’t continue to live like this.” Her mother had never been one to plunge into a situation and fix the problems, nor had she aspired to be independent. All Lynette’s life, she’d relied on a man, and the baron had been her mother’s second husband. Given time and enough encouragement, her mother would likely marry again since the prospect to taking care of herself didn’t appeal.
“What can I do? Your father left me next to nothing, and that’s been gone through already. I believe there are barely fifty pounds left for me to live on, so I’ve been forced to let most of the staff at Birch House go.”
Ah, that must have been the reason no one had answered her knock or why she’d had to fetch the tea service. “Well, no matter, I’m certain you and I can think of something.” She took a sip of tea. “You can always sell Birch House. For as long as I can remember, you’ve complained about how out of the way it is and how much it costs to run. That should earn you a tidy sum to relocate elsewhere.”
“I don’t hear you offering to let me stay with you,” her mother groused.
Lynette sighed. “My cottage in Surrey is quite small. Only enough room for John and me.”
“Charles didn’t leave you well off?”
“Of course not. He was a solider, and his pension only stretches so far. Most times I make and sell pastries to help us get by.” Then she brightened. “Perhaps we can raise some coin for you by baking.”
“And how will I pay for the ingredients, pray tell? Dig them up from the back garden?” Her mother’s waspishness had grown and developed in the years since they’d been apart. It had been one of the reasons Lynette decided to relocate to Surrey and move into Charles’ small cottage there.
Lynette counted to ten in her head before she spoke. “I shall fund the venture, since I do have a knack for cakes and pies. They’ve been wildly popular in my village.”
Her mother grunted. “Imagine, a baron’s daughter, forced to labor like a shop girl to scrape by. Scandalous times, I tell you.”
“Times have been tough for many of us following the war, Mother. My situation isn’t unique, and besides, I don’t mind the work. I go to bed tired at night knowing a certain satisfaction that sitting idly by and doing embroidery or painting never brought me.”
“Those were such long-ago days when we prepared for your Come Out.” Her mother nibbled on a biscuit. “I assumed you’d land a titled gentleman.” Accusation hung heavy on her voice.
“Yes, well, circumstances change, as do the wishes of the heart.” She didn’t want to think about the past at the moment, especially since being back at Birch House put her so close to it. “Now, about the pastries?”
“Do you think that would work? Perhaps it will cover living expenses, but the taxes on the property haven’t been paid for more years than I can remember.”
Dear Lord, the situation was worse than expected. Outwardly, Lynette remained calm. It wouldn’t do to let John see his mother come undone without first trying to change the outcome of a problem. “It couldn’t hurt, and it will give me something to fill my time while I’m here.”
“Then you plan to return to Surrey?”
“Yes, after Twelfth Night. John and I have a life there.”
Her mother sniffed. “I see. Abandon a woman in her hour of need.”
Lynette bit her bottom lip to keep from retorting the words that jumped into her mind. Instead, she calmly sipped her tea. “As I said, you could sell the property and move to wherever you wished.”
“It’s the one thing I have left of your father, and I’ll keep it until his ne’er-do-well cousin deigns to take up the reins and act like a true baron.” Lines of anxiety sank into her mother’s face, but there was a light of battle in her eyes. “It’s mine for the time being.”
“Very well, then we’ll bake pastries in the hopes it’ll alleviate things for a few months, and we’ll enlist John in helping to hawk the goods. It’s Christmastide and everyone wants to indulge their bellies.”
“Mama makes wonderful apple tarts!” John exclaimed from his position beneath the table. “And sometimes she does a spiced cake that’s so good.”
“Thank you for those kind words, John.” Lynette smiled. Though she lived a simple life now compared to what she’d been raised upon, she enjoyed it, and with her son, it was fulfilling if rather lonely. Every once in a while, she thought that having people about might cheer her. But that had always been a dream of her heart, for she was an only child, as had been her mother. She still longed for a big family around her, and perhaps if she’d made different decisions in the past, she could have had that.
Impatiently, she scrubbed the thoughts from her mind. What was done was done.
“Perhaps while you and John are out selling pastries, perhaps you can find a man in the process. That would improve your situation and perhaps mine.”
Ah, there it was. The criticism she’d expected about her unwed state. “I don’t need a man in my life at this time.” Lynette couldn’t help but roll her eyes to the ceiling... where her gaze alighted on a crack in one corner that displayed a bit of moisture from a leak. “I was in love twice. Neither of those relationships lasted, and I’m not anxious to try again with the same results.”
There was only so much a human heart could take before it broke apart entirely into too many small pieces that couldn’t be mended.
Her mother snorted. “Love.” She snapped her fingers, showing a hole in one of the lacy, fingerless gloves she wore. “Yes, you’ve had that. Now it’s time to marry for position and comfort. Love can’t give you that.”
“There is no point of marrying if there isn’t love present, for then the man would merely be a man.” Lynette finished her tea and gently set the cup in the saucer that rested on the low table in front of her. “Love makes any hardship endurable.” And oh, how she missed having a man’s strong arms about her as she fell asleep at night or the ability to talk to someone about her fears and concerns.
“A man with a fortune who is biddable is better than a poor man with love.” Her mother shook her head. One of her graying brown curls escaped. “The responsibility for saving this house—me—lies on your shoulders, girl. I let you have your way the other two times, but I won’t again. You’ll do what’s right.”
“Or what, you’ll threaten to toss me out?” Lynette cocked an eyebrow, for she couldn’t hold her tongue in ladylike fashion any longer. “I have a life elsewhere, Mother, and I’m only here for a Christmastide visit. Accept my help or don’t, but I refuse to marry for convenience, and I don’t want a man I can boss. Where’s the fun in that?”
“Marriage isn’t supposed to be fun.” Her mother sipped her tea. “By the by, I received an invitation from the Duke of Whittington. He and his family are in residence at Ivy Castle for the Christmastide season, and they would like for me to join the house party.”
“Oh?” A silly little flutter went through her heart at the mention of Ivy Castle. She hadn’t been there since she threw Stephen over long ago, which had destroyed her reputation and made her go into hiding from embarrassment. “Have they ever invited you to such festivities before?”
“Not that I can recollect. However, when I wrote back to the duchess informing her I had to decline because you and John were coming to visit, she replied by asking you both to accompany me.”
Lynette gawked. “Attend a house party? At Ivy Castle?” Her mind reeled. “I’m not certain that’s a good idea.”
Memories assailed her from ten years before. Stephen had been reckless and impulsive, a man of nine and twenty with plenty of Town bronze and charm that had turned her head. Though she’d been a girl of nineteen and enjoying her Come Out year, she’d been thoroughly taken by the young Lord Tilbury.
Those were the days when she and her parents would go to London for the Season. She’d met Stephen at a society event, and from that moment on, they’d been inseparable. Soon after, they were engaged, and the banns read. Oh, she’d been so giddy about landing a viscount during her first Season, and the wedding had been planned down to the last detail. They would wed in London with many friends and acquaintances in attendance... and then he had to talk about having children and planning their future and what they’d do within society.
She’d allowed fear to invade her naïve happiness, and at the last second, she’d jilted him, run from the man as if he’d had the plague. Rumors and gossip had hounded her heels so badly that her parents had no recourse except to remove to Birch House in Warwickshire County until the wagging tongues were done tearing her reputation to shreds.
In the intervening years, she’d never once set eyes on Stephen again, whether from him avoiding any place that she might be or by fortune, she couldn’t say. And now her mother had casually mentioned an invitation to a house party at the castle.
“I’m not certain attending such a thing is a good idea.” She refilled her teacup with a shaking hand but gave up stirring sugar into the amber liquid for she could barely hold the spoon. “No doubt that family has no fond memories of me.”
“And whose fault is that?” A gleeful glitter had entered her mother’s eyes, but Lynette had her doubts it stemmed from good humor. “You had a chance with Lord Tilbury, and you threw him over for reasons you’ve kept to yourself. Perhaps you should attend to see what happened after the mess you made.”
Lynette had no words to respond, for she’d been rendered speechless at the thought of seeing Stephen after all these years. Had he married? Did he have the handful of children he’d wished for? Was he happy? A stab of longing poked at her heart with each question. When her son crept to the edge of the table and took his plate full of sweets, her tongue became unglued. “That was ten years ago. Surely, they have all moved on, as have I.”
“Shall we accept the invitation then? At least we won’t need to heat Birch House for a week or so, nor will you need to hawk pastries on the street.”
There was that.
John poked at her shoulder. “Is it a real castle?”
“Oh, yes. Quite large, with turrets and a hedge maze.” She fought off the heat rising in her cheeks. How many sweet hours had she and Stephen passed in each other’s company while lost in that maze?
“Is there a suit of armor?” her son wanted to know.
“I believe there was at one time. Perhaps they still have it somewhere.”
“Might we please go? It will be ever so fun.” He put a fingertip into the icing on one of the cakes and then popped the finger in his mouth. “It’s rather dull here, and we might celebrate Christmastide with games.”
Lynette’s heart sank into her stomach. Perhaps she’d been lax in bringing her son up. He needed to be around other people—men included. And if the whole of the Ivy family had assembled at the castle, there would be plenty on hand for John to spend time with. She glanced at her mother. “Do you promise to be on your best behavior?”
“You dare seek to lecture me, young woman?” She wagged a finger. “I’ve earned my status, I’ll have you know.”
“That doesn’t answer my question. I don’t wish for you to spread your foul mood to others, for undoubtedly the duke and duchess will have invited many others along with us.”
“All to the good, for there might be the opportunity for you to mingle with the local gentry. If the war hasn’t taken all the good men, you might have your pick during the holidays.” A laugh issued from the older woman, but it sounded rusty as if she weren’t quite used to giving into mirth. Then she huffed. “I’ll attempt to act cheerful, though why should I when my circumstances are still dreadful?”
Lynette bit her bottom lip once more. She looked at her son. “Do you promise to behave yourself?” Of course he would, for he was an exemplary boy.
“I do.” John gave a little hop as excitement danced in his eyes. “Will we stay at the castle? I saw it from the road when we arrived here.”
“Yes, we’ll stay at the castle, but you must follow the rules and not make a nuisance of yourself.” She raked her fingers through his blond curls that were so much like his father’s. “I can’t promise there will be other children in attendance, but there might indeed be games.”
“And food!”
She gave into a tiny grin. “Yes, I’m certain they’ll take great fun in keeping your belly full.” With a pat to his cheek, she said, “Go upstairs and pack your things. No doubt we’ll leave presently for the castle.”
Her mother snorted. “So, you’ve settled it for all of us then?”
“Why not?” Lynette shrugged. “You said so yourself it would be for the best.” Then she decided to turn the game. “Perhaps you might find a widower around your age. Marrying again might prove a good idea and would keep your from being lonely.”
“I’m not lonely, but I wouldn’t mind the coin a new husband might bring, for you certainly have been a disappointment.”
“I’m sorry you feel that way; I can’t go against what I believe.” But it confirmed her decision to leave the area after Twelfth Night. Her mother’s company hadn’t improved with age.
And God help me to survive seeing Stephen again. I’m not certain I’m strong enough to withstand the storm if he hasn’t moved on.