He chuckled to himself as he unfolded his mother’s elegantly penned letter and skimmed through it.
Then he sat up. “Hmm…” Scarce realising he’d spoken aloud, he found himself concentrating on a paragraph written in her flowing hand.
And such a scandal it was, dear boy. Of course, so much of the blame went onto the shoulders of that girl; although I believe, in all fairness, that it is highly unlikely to be her fault. But the fact remains that she perpetrated some violent behaviour on dear Sir Mortimer Hackenby. His face was quite reddened, and his clothes sorely damaged by his encounter with some brambles, I understand.
Caleb couldn’t help but chuckle. “No, Mama, if I’m right in what I’m thinking, they were roses.” He read on.
Of course, the girl has all but ruined her reputation, if she even had one to begin with. Quiet little mouse, not unpleasant to the eye, and well-dressed, but even being the daughter of a Marquess cannot rescue her from this shocking scrape. Her parents are abroad, I understand, and she is residing in town at the home of one of her brothers. That is to say, she did, but of course she has had to leave town after this scandal. A shame, but then one has to consider the many delightful hours spent discussing it all. The Ton has yet to decide whether to be sympathetic or to offer SirMortimer its condolences on the incident, and condemn young Lady Elinor as a cruel and wanton young woman.
At those words, Caleb found himself grinding his teeth. Good God, an innocent girl, for she could not be much more than that, thrust into Society and finding herself alone with someone like Hackenby, whose reputation was already developing a slight stink to it…no wonder she reacted the way she did. If he’d been there, he might well have followed up her slap with a powerful punch of his own.
To his surprise, Caleb found his fingers making a fist even as the thought passed through his mind. He relaxed, shook his head, and put the letter aside. At least now he knew her name, and also where she lived. Also the reason she had returned to Molliney Park. The well-kept grounds bordered the Abbey on its farthest side, thus very little in the way of communication had taken place between them as far as he knew. He’d not made any effort to socialise with the neighbourhood, and from the sound of things, neither had she.
It was all quite typical of London—a great deal of fuss and bother over very little. However, he did find himself harbouring a very firm dislike for Sir Mortimer Hackenby. Perhaps the man was fortune hunting…Caleb had no idea. He wasn’t acquainted with him, and didn’t want to be.
He had other matters that were far more important that the little scandal in town, and as he reached for the next letter, he took a moment to pray silently that it contained the news he hoped for.
Holding his breath, he broke the seal and read the brief note from Worthy Publishers.
And laughed aloud, a joyous sound that echoed off the walls, and out into the darkened rooms of Tylwyth Teg Abby where it rattled the large carved wooden shield. The emblem within held the Howell family motto—Libertas Est Omnia. “Freedom and Home”.
Chapter Four
To say it rained for an extended period would be an understatement, and Elinor was becoming ever more frustrated as she woke for the seventh day in a row to see yet another grey and overcast sky, along with raindrops already sliding down the glass of her window.
She said as much to Jane as the stout woman came into her bedroom bearing tea.
“It has to stop soon, doesn’t it?” She pulled herself up in bed and accepted the tray onto her lap.
“It’ll stop when it stops, Miss Elinor, and you know that. No point in asking me a dozen times a day, because I’ll always say the same thing.”
“Yes, but…”
“No buts, if you please.” She crossed the room to Elinor’s large wardrobe and opened the door. “Now what shall you wear today? The pink is nice…” Diving into the depths, Jane reappeared with a pretty pink gown, its high neck ruffled with delicate white lace.
Elinor sighed. “Dear Jane. That gown was attractive when I was twelve. I’m an adult now.”
“And a stubborn one too, I’ll add.” Jane put the pink gown away, and pulled out a green one. “Better?”
“No. Green makes me look sallow and tired. At least according to Lady Esme Fairchild, and she is the arbiter of all things fashionable, you know.”
“Really?”
“Well, no, but she thinks she is.”
“So perhaps ayeson the green?”
Elinor wrinkled her nose. “It’s more of a blue day, Jane. Blue always feels calm and peaceful.”
The older woman chuckled, a rich sound emanating from the depths of the wardrobe. “I can’t say I’d refer to you as either calm or peaceful, Miss Elinor. But you look very nice in blue, with all that blonde hair.”
Since Jane had known her for her entire life, Elinor smiled at the compliment. “Thank you. And your tea is, as always, beyond compare. I had nothing so delicious in town, you know.”
Jane preened. “It’s the milk, I always say. Start with a good tea and add a splash of fresh milk. There's nothing like it.”
Elinor nodded and put the cup back on the tray. “I shall make a note of that.” She slid out of bed. “Now I suppose I have to decide what to do with myself today.” She walked to the window. “It does look as if the rain is easing a little…”
“I hope so, Miss Elinor, I really do.” Jane sounded worried. “This weather’s not good for the mill downstream.”
