The elderly man returned. Behind him was another man, younger, closer in age to her mother. He strode toward her mother, and the elderly man quietly left them to speak alone.
“Mariah? Is it truly you?”
“Yes, Benjamin,” her mother whispered. “I know it’s been quite a long time…”
The man reached up to caress her mother’s cheek. “Are you well? I—”The man’s gaze dropped when he saw Meredith. “And who is this?” his tone was still gentle, still full of concern but as Meredith looked up into his eyes, she wasn’t afraid.
Her mother gently pulled Meredith to stand in front of her. “This is my daughter. Meredith.”
The man glanced between her and her mother before he knelt down in front of her. “Hello Meredith. I am Benjamin, but you may call me Uncle Ben, all right?” He then offered her a warm smile. “Are you hungry?”
Meredith glanced at her mother, who shook her head so Meredith mimicked her.
“Nonsense, you both looked tired and hungry. Come into the drawing room. We’ll have some tea and something to eat. Then you will tell me what’s happened.”
Meredith nestled on a settee beside her mother before a warm fire and dozed off soon after she’d eaten. The man’s voice was oddly soothing. Her papa’s voice had always been distressing to her, but Uncle Ben? He felt safe.
“So it settled, Mariah. You will have a little cottage by the sea. I will see to everything. And you must bring the child to visit me. This house is too quiet since Harry moved to London.”
“You don’t mind that she is…?” She did not finish her question.
“Mariah, she is yours. That means she will always be welcome in my home.”
“Benjamin, I can never thank you enough for saving me … for saving her.”
Meredith woke, feeling tears in her eyes. She’d been so young when she’d first come into Benjamin St. John’s life, but he had been her hero, a father to her more than anyone connected to her by blood.
Now he was gone. That loss sank in deep for the first time in the last four days and she wept, wept for the loss of someone who’d become her world.
So much had happened so quickly. Ben’s illness, his death, and her flight from the house. She could still feel Harry’s hands on her arms, squeezing tight. There was no possibility of staying, not when Harry would demand she become his mistress.
What upset her more was how foolish she’d been to think that Uncle Ben would live forever, and she would always have a safe place with him. She’d given no thought to a life beyond that world. Now she was headed back to London to face a new life, a very new and very terrifying world, and living with a man she’d never met.
Her thoughts drifted to Darius, Uncle Ben’s nephew…the Duke of Tiverton. As she understood it, he and Uncle Ben had argued shortly after Darius’s father had passed away. The fight had upset Ben, but his pride kept him from reaching out to his nephew.
Please let him be kind. Meredith’s only hope was that he could do as her uncle wished and find her a good man to marry. She must be content with that if she could find no other fate of her own making. But a woman born out of wedlock with no real family to her name held few prospects.
I must be content. I must. Whatever comes.
2
Meredith tried to calm her nerves as she climbed the steps of the beautiful townhouse on Knightley Street. She had learned that this lovely little parade of homes also went by another name …Devil’s Square.
When she’d arrived in London an hour ago, she had asked the stagecoach driver if he knew where Knightley Street was.
“You’d best be avoiding the Devil’s Square, miss. What business takes you there?”
She had told him she was visiting a relative, which was mostly true, given that The Duke of Tiverton was family—at least in spirit. After that declaration, the elderly driver relaxed and provided her with the directions to Knightley Street.
Now, as she stood facing this supposed Devil’s Square, she couldn’t understand why the driver would have been concerned. The area was lovely, the front gardens well kept, and the homes themselves were in fine condition. It was clear this was a place where wealthy families lived. Based on the driver’s reaction when he’d spoken of Devil’s Square, she’d expected it to be a rookery of some sort, or some frightening part of the city that would see her dead within the hour simply for trespassing.
She double checked the numbers posted on the gate that separated this house from those on either side. Yes, this was the correct home.
It was built of red brick, and had a neo classical detailing that covered the portico and string courses. The front was covered in wisteria which had climbed all the way up the portico and tiptoed its way to the base of the windows across the brickwork, creating a dazzling waterfall of purple blossoms. Meredith let out a dreamy sigh as she imagined how it would have felt to grow up in a home like this. It was much harder to grow Wisteria in Yorkshire.
Meredith continued to stare at the house. Her heart beat a little faster as she realized her perusal of the house was, in fact, her attempt to stall. She was afraid to knock. Afraid to meet Uncle Ben’s nephew. Afraid of everything that would follow. She was quite literally on a precipice as she stood at the top of the steps leading up to the portico. The late evening sun was dipping below the tops of the trees, bathing everything in a dark gold light which made the house feel very warm, very welcoming. But would that be true of what lay inside? Would she have a home here?
Don’t be such a peahen, Meredith, you have a spine. Just knock.
