Chapter Three
Drake
March 1817, North Midlands
When business calledthem to Sheffield, Drake and Bane allowed an extra day for the journey. Better to have a day at leisure in the area than to be late for their meeting. Drake already had an idea of how they might spend the day, but he didn’t say anything until they were waiting for fresh horses at the last staging post before their destination.
To Drake’s surprise, it was Bane that raised the idea. “We should visit Lark,” he said. “While we are in the area.”
Yes, exactly. Though Drake hadn’t expected Bane to think of it.
Bane had never been close to their half-sister, Larkspur, and nor had Drake since Bane came into his life. Lark was five years younger than the two half-brothers, and her mother had refused to allow her to associate with Bane. Since Bane and Drake were usually together, that meant she had little to do with either brother.
Their father had arranged a marriage for Lark six years ago, into the Hampton family, whose fortune was based on china and coal. Since the marriage, the Hamptons had branched outinto managing canal cargoes, with Phillip, Lark’s husband, as the manager of the new division.
“She might not want to see us,” Drake warned. Or she might want to see Drake, her legitimate half-brother, and not Bane, her mother’s scapegoat for all their father’s sins.
Bane shrugged. “What is the worst that can happen? She might show us both the door. She might be pleased to see you but not me. It is worth the trial, Drake. I’ve been thinking about her for a while. Father married her off as soon as she was out of mourning for her mother, and as far as I am aware, he ignored her from that day on. And Colin hasn’t visited her, that I know of.”
“Or written to her,” Drake agreed. “Or, at least, I’ve never seen her address on a letter, coming or going, and neither Colin nor Frannie has ever mentioned hearing from her or writing to her.”
“Then she is on her own, without family,” Bane said. “Which is not a problem if her husband is a good man, and if his family has accepted her. But what if they haven’t? I want her to know she can call on me in need. Even if she doesn’t know me or even want to.”
He was right. Drake had been thinking only that he’d like to see his sister. Before Bane arrived, he had been very close to Lark—before Drake was forced to choose between protecting the unexpected brother who was still recovering from a gruesome injury or being allowed to visit the sweet child in the nursery. He had always treasured stolen moments when he had been able to collaborate with the nursery staff—and later the governess—to sneak her a treat, or take her on a quick outing, such as to the woods to pick daffodils or to the stables to visit a new litter of kittens.
“She can depend on both of us,” Drake said. “Let’s go and tell her.”
Chesterfield was only a few miles farther on, and it was just past noon. They rode the distance in less than an hour and left their horses at the most prominent of the local inns, guessing that it would also be a sorting house for the Royal Mail. As it was, they soon found, and when they asked after their sister’s address, they were directed to the innkeeper, who was also postmaster.
“Can you direct us to the residence of Mr. and Mrs. Phillip Hampton?” Bane asked.
The innkeeper gave them an address. “Would you wish to book a room for the night, sirs?” he asked.
“We are not certain whether we will be staying,” Drake told him, “but we would like to leave our baggage for a couple of hours.”
They gave the man a couple of coins and walked to the outskirts of Chesterfield, where the Hampton house, Three Oaks, was as easy to find as the innkeeper had predicted.
The family was wealthy enough to afford a man to answer the door, which was the task of a maid at the Sanderson house. “Drake and Bane Sanderson to see Mrs. Hampton,” Bane announced them to the man, who looked as if he was trying to decide whether to bring the visitors inside to wait or to leave them standing on the doorstep.
“We are Mrs. Hampton’s brothers,” Drake said.
Apparently, Lark was at home, for the man opted to show them into a little room just inside the door—one of those bland rooms with uncomfortable benches that houses often had for unexpected, and possibly unwanted, guests. “I shall see if Mrs. Hampton is receiving,” he said, resolving the question of whether or not to bow by nodding his head before he hurried away.
He had not been gone for long when Lark burst into the room. For a moment, Drake thought she was going to hurlherself into his arms, but she stopped just inside the door. “It is you!” she declared. “Drake and Bane! Whatever are you doing in Chesterfield? But never mind that. You shall tell me in a minute. Come through to the parlor.” She beckoned them to follow her, paused in the hallway to order refreshments served, and led them into a parlor that, while still being elegantly appointed, showed every sign of being in regular use by the family.
Lark seated herself in the smaller of two chairs with matching blue and white paisley upholstery and waved them to two other chairs that picked up the blue and white in a floral design that was reminiscent of Indian fabrics Drake had seen.
Indeed, now that he had noticed it, the blue and white theme was repeated in the tiles of the fireplace, the vases of flowers that adorned the room, and a selection of china plates, jugs, and bowls on a sideboard.
“Now,” Lark said. “What brings you to my door? Not that I am not pleased to see you! But it has been five years! Is it because Colin threw you out? Do you need a place to stay? You are welcome of course. I am certain Phillip will agree with me. He cannot understand our family, though I have tried to explain to him that my mother had us living in three armed camps, with Father the only common link between us. But here you are! I certainly did not expect this when I woke up this morning.”
“We are pleased to see you, too,” said Drake, when Lark paused for breath. “You have apparently heard that we no longer live in Marpleton?”
“I often exchange letters with Polly Freemantle, the vicar’s daughter, who married the squire,” Lark explained. “She told me about Bane going to live in Marplestead after Father died, and about the shaming that caught Drake instead of Colin, and that Colin used it as an excuse to turn you out, too, Drake. But that was two months ago.Doyou need a place to stay?”
“We have moved to London,” Bane told her. To rooms in a respectable but inexpensive lodging house, where they could live as cheaply as possible while growing steadily wealthier.
“We were about to do so anyway,” said Drake, getting his word in quickly before Lark took flight again. He’d forgotten that about her—how excitement made her chatter. Nervousness, too. The name Lark suited her, in fact, better than Larkspur, for she was a bird in joyous flight rather than a plant that remained rooted to the ground. And he loved her for it.
