CHAPTER 18
Approaching Fairhaven Cottage
Edenton, Cumberland
G abe pressed a kiss to Sophie’s head as she snuggled against him on the bench. It was no wonder she was sleeping, he had kept her up half the night in their various bouts of lovemaking. He still wasn’t certain how it was possible that he’d ended up with her as his wife, but he wasn’t going to question his good fortune. After all, she was the only good thing he had in his life, the only part of his life that made any sense.
She shifted on the bench again and her eyes blinked open. “Are we almost there?” she asked as she covered a yawn with her hand.
“We should be arriving soon,” he assured her.
Sophie reached up and brushed her hand against his cheek. “I’m not certain how I became the luckiest girl in the world, but I’m glad that I am.”
Gabe chuckled, then he turned his face to kiss her palm. “I was just thinking the same thing.”
“About how I’m the luckiest girl in the world?” Her brow lifted playfully.
Gabe shook his head. “You know what I meant.”
And the twinkling in her blue eyes told him that she knew very well what he meant and she was teasing him. Then Sophie sat up against the squabs and glanced out the coach window. “Is that it, do you think?”
Gabe turned his attention out the window and sure enough there was a nice looking cottage not far down the lane. “I think it is.” He breathed a sigh of relief. “It looks bigger than I expected.”
“And it’s not a pile of rubble,” Sophie added.
“I think,” Gabe began as he reached for her hand, “that you are my lucky charm.”
“I am?” She wrinkled her brow just so.
He agreed with a nod. “Ever since we married, things have been looking up. Your father …well, he didn’t exactly give us his blessing…but he also didn’t kill me, which I had expected him to do. And now, just looking at Fairhaven from here, if it’s as delightful on the inside as it is on the outside, we may just be able to sell it for a pretty penny.”
And if Oakcliffe turned out to be the perfect place for Clayton, then all would be well long enough, hopefully, for Gabe to be able to turn things around for the earldom.
Sophie turned her attention back out the window at the approaching cottage, and then she sat up straight. “Did you see that?”
The only thing Gabe had seen was the back of Sophie’s blonde head, blocking the window. “What is it?”
She glanced back at him, her brow creased in worry. “The draperies. They moved. Is there someone in there?”
“There shouldn’t be.” Gabe moved closer to his wife to peer out her side of the carriage as it rumbled to a stop. But he didn’t notice any of the drapes moving in the cottage. “Just a draft, perhaps?” he suggested.
But it wasn’t a draft. Before Lumley had even opened the carriage door, a young girl with dark hair stepped from the cottage, blinking in surprise at the coach.
“Who is that?” Sophie asked.
Gabe shook his head. “I’ve no idea.”
“Perhaps we’re not at Fairhaven and Lumley got lost.”
“Perhaps” Gabe agreed, but he didn’t believe that was the case. The worry churning in his stomach told him otherwise.
Lumley opened the carriage door, and Gabe descended from the coach. He glanced toward the girl, and when he did, her confused expression transformed to one of horror.
“Mama!” she screamed, racing back toward the cottage door. “It’s a soldier!” And the terror in her voice was nearly heart wrenching.
She stumbled in her haste to escape back into the cottage.
Good God. What the devil was that about?
“Gabe?” Sophie called from the coach at his back.
Damn it all. How had he forgotten Sophie? He turned on his heel and offered his wife his hand and then helped her find her feet. “Sorry, love.”
But Sophie simply shook her head. “There’s two more of them,” she whispered, looking past him toward the cottage.
Gabe glanced back over his shoulder and there were two more – a slightly older girl than the first, and a woman who sported an eye-patch. Who the devil were these people? Gabe heaved a sigh and turned back toward the cottage. “I wonder if I’m lost. I had thought this was Fairhaven Cottage.”
The woman with the eye-patch nodded, and she narrowed her good eye as though she was studying him. Then awareness seemed to dawn on her. “You’re Gabriel,” she said, her lip trembling all of a sudden. “You look so much like Clayton.”
Clayton had instilled the trio of females at Fairhaven? Was that why he hadn’t sold the place? And if so, who were they to him? The woman didn’t really look to be Clayton’s sort, but perhaps…For the love of God, were those girls his brother’s bastard daughters? Had he done to those girls what their father had done to the two of them? Gabe felt sick all of a sudden.
“You know my brother?”
The woman shook her light brown head. “You don’t know who I am.” Then she stepped forward with quite a pronounced limp and offered him her hand to shake. “I’m Augusta. I’m your sister.”
Sister? Gabe blinked at the woman before him and his mouth fell open. “I-I beg your pardon?”
He noticed the youngest girl, peeking around the draperies to look at him from the window. She jumped back when she realized he’d spotted her.
“Let’s do have this conversation inside, shall we?” Augusta, his apparent sister, gestured to the open front door. She had an American accent, now that she strung more than a few words together, he could tell that. Was that—
Sophie came up beside Gabe and slid her arm around his elbow. He glanced down at his wife to see her looking just as confused as he felt. “Your sister?” she whispered.
Gabe shrugged. “I have no idea,” he replied just as quietly.
As Augusta and the older girl continued inside the cottage, Gabe and Sophie trailed after them. Once in the foyer, Augusta closed the door behind the group and said, “Aurelie sweetheart, why don’t you and Ismérie put on a pot of tea and bring some of those biscuits we made this morning for your uncle and…” She glanced in Sophie’s direction.
“Oh, my wife, Sophia,” Gabe replied.
“…for your uncle and your aunt,” Augusta continued before limping toward the sitting room.
Gabe and Sophie followed her into the room and together they found a spot on a threadbare settee in the middle as Augusta chose a high-backed chair not too far away.
His supposed sister pulled out a handkerchief from a pocket in her serviceable dress and dabbed at her eyes. “Forgive me.” She sniffed. “I had not realized that Clayton had passed. I would have been more prepared for you if—”
“Clayton has not passed,” Gabe said. “He’s in a hospital in London.”
“He’s still at Rosewood?” Augusta heaved a sigh. “So it’s just happenstance that you’ve come to Fairhaven?”
Gabe sat forward on the settee. “Forgive me for sounding blunt, but I have no idea who you are or why you and your daughters are living at Fairhaven. And I would like some answers.”
A sad smile settled on the woman’s face. “I told him he should contact you, but…”
“But what?” Gabe demanded.
She shook her head. “He could be rather stubborn, our brother. A kind man, to be sure, but stubborn once he made his mind up about something.”
A muscle ticked in Gabe’s jaw. She still hadn’t answered a blasted thing and was talking about Clayton as though she knew him just as well as Gabe, perhaps even better. And something about that irritated him to no end. “Exactly how are you my sister?” he asked. “And I do hope you have some proof to your claim.”
Augusta sat back in her chair as though he’d offended her.
Sophie squeezed Gabe’s hand. “We did not expect to find Fairhaven inhabited,” she said softly. “We’re simply surprised is all.”
But Augusta shook her head. “You don’t have to soften his words, Mrs. Prideaux. I’m certain—”
The older girl rushed into the room with a plate of biscuits and placed them on the table. “Ismérie is crying, Mama.”
Augusta sighed and turned her glance back to Gabe. “It’s your uniform, I’m afraid. It brings back unpleasant memories for her.”
What the devil was any of that supposed to mean?
The woman gestured back to the open doorway. “Aurelie, will you please go to your Uncle Clayton’s desk? There’s a box in the bottom drawer and inside there are a stack of letters with a ribbon around them.”
“But Ismérie?” Aurelie asked softly.
“Tell your sister that your uncle has not come to harm any of us and ask her to please join us in here when the tea is ready.”
“Yes, Mama.” The girl nodded her head quickly before dashing from the room.
Once she was gone, Augusta turned her attention to Gabe and said, “Clayton said you were aware our father had two wives.”
Gabe’s blood turned cold.
“My mother, Anne, was his first. And when I received a letter for her from Clayton, I was stunned to say the very least. My brother and I had always been told that our father died in South Carolina. If we hadn’t been captured by the Indians, I’m not certain I would have ever written Clayton back. But we were captured and I did write him, and he insisted that my girls and I come here to stay.”
Aurelie re-entered the sitting room at that moment, a little bundle of letters in her hands.
“You asked for proof, Gabriel.” She gestured to the bundle in her daughter’s hands. “And there you have it. Clayton saved it all. He said he thought you might be disbelieving.” She tipped her head toward her daughter and added, “Please give them to you uncle, sweetheart.”
Aurelie, who was a sweet looking girl, with dark brown hair and big brown eyes, crossed the room, her arm outstretched, offering Gabe the stack of letters. “Uncle.”
Uncle. So strange to be called that. “Thank you. Aurelie, is it?”
The girl nodded quickly and then stepped back toward her mother’s chair.
“They’re in order,” Augusta told him. “And I’ll be happy to answer any questions you may have.”
Gabe untied the blue ribbon that bound the letters, and Sophie slid closer to him on the settee. He opened the first letter which had been addressed to the Countess of Northwold at Hendley House in New York. It was in Clayton’s hand.
Anne Prideaux
Hendley House
Kings Bridge, New York
Lady Northwold,
I send my regards and hope this letter finds you in good health. In actuality, I hope this letter somehow manages to find its way to you as I am not at all certain if I am sending this correspondence to the proper place. However, after going through my late-father’s papers, this address in Kings Bridge is the only one I’ve been able to stumble upon. Until recently, neither my brother nor I had any knowledge of your existence or of your marriage to our father. I am not certain if you will find the news of his death to be welcome or otherwise, but it is news nonetheless.
On behalf of the Prideaux family and the Northwold earldom, I want to sincerely apologize for the treatment you received at the hands of my father and offer any assistance you may be in need of, late as it may be. I realize that my offer is decades later than you deserved, and can in no way diminish my father’s unfortunate actions, but I make the offer at this time just the same. I am not a perfect man, but I have tried to be a better one than my father. My offer is a sincere one, and I do hope you will allow me the chance to make the proper restitutions you are owed.
Sincerely,
Clayton Prideaux, Earl of Northwold
Gabe glanced up after finishing the letter and then handed it to Sophie to read. So Clayton had found Father’s first wife? And together they’d had a daughter? Father hadn’t only abandoned his wife, he’d abandoned a family. He felt more than ill at the thought. Beckbury must not have known that bit or Gabe was certain his now father-in-law would have said as much when he’d told Gabe about his father’s bigamy.
“My response is next,” Augusta said softly.
Gabe opened the next letter.
Clayton Prideaux, Earl of Northwold
5 Morwell Street
Fitzrovia, London
Dear Earl of Northwold,
You have no idea how surprised I was to receive your letter addressed to my mother and how confused it has made me these many months. I have read it a number of times since my aunt in New York forwarded it to me in the Michigan territory, but it does not make any more sense now than it did upon my first reading. The tone of your letter makes it sound as though my father – our father, by the sound of it - has recently passed away, though I have been under the impression that he died in the Battle of King’s Mountain. Have I been misinformed all this time? That hardly seems fathomable, however I do find myself in a desperate situation and willing to believe the unbelievable.
I do not understand how I have an earl for a brother, and I can assure you that no one in my family has ever been aware of our connection, if it is a true connection.
My mother died in child labor during the birth of my brother Charles, named after our father, whom I am told she deeply loved. I was so young myself at the time that I do not remember either of my parents, but my aunt has told me much about my mother which has kept her memory somewhat alive for me. Other than his name, I knew absolutely nothing else about Lieutenant Charles Prideaux, other than rumors of his death at King’s Mountain.
I have held onto your letter for some time, unsure if I should write you and if so, what I should say. However, I am now in need of assistance and you may be my only hope for salvation. You have offered restitution to my mother, but I do hope you will be willing to pass that restitution to me instead. My husband, my brother Charles, and my eldest daughter were massacred following a siege near our home in Frenchtown. It is a miracle that my surviving daughters and I managed to make it safely to Fort Malden as so many others did not, but we are now being held prisoners along with other survivors by General Proctor and his men. If you are able to use your title and influence to help us gain our freedom, we will be forever in your debt.
Your sister,
Mrs. Henri Caplette
F renchtown. The word made a chill race down Gabe’s spine. He knew quite well the horrors that had transpired in Frenchtown and during the captured Americans’ march to Fort Malden. He glanced at his sister and his stomach churned. Was that how she’d come by her injuries? A missing eye, a severe limp? The Indians had been quite brutal to those who were not able to keep up during the march northward.
Sophie nudged him and he looked down to see her waiting for the second letter. He handed it to her and then returned his gaze to Augusta. “You survived Frenchtown?” It was no wonder his youngest niece was terrified of his uniform. If he had anything else to wear…
“The three of us, yes,” Augusta replied. “My Henri and our daughter Eloise did not.” She shook her head, looking miserable as though she couldn’t shake the awful memories. And how could she possibly? Frenchtown had been a massacre. “And Charles, of course, our brother.”
Brother. An older brother. Had he lived, he would have been the rightful Earl of Northwold.
“I am so sorry for your loss,” he muttered the words that could not possibly bring his sister any peace. They were, after all, merely words. And nothing could restore all that she had lost.
Gabe opened the next letter. This one in Clayton’s distinctive hand…
Mrs. Henri Caplette
Fort Malden
Amherstburg, Canada
Dear Sister,
I was quite surprised to receive your letter, and relieved that you have sought my assistance in the matter of your family’s capture by British forces. I offer my most sincere condolences for the loss of your husband, brother and daughter at Frenchtown and can only imagine the heartbreak you have suffered these many months.
Please rest assured that your plea for my help has not fallen on deaf ears. As I write this letter, I am sending Mr. Burroughs to retrieve you and your daughters from Fort Malden and to bring you to England so I may see to your safety and your rightful place in our family. I do look forward to meeting you in person and being able to soon exchange family stories among other things. Please do help Mr. Burroughs in acquiring a few family records in America before you depart for England. He has a list from me in his possession.
Your brother,
Northwold
C layton had come to their rescue. A lump lodged in Gabe’s throat. He had no idea who Mr. Burroughs was, but he had a very good idea why Mr. Hill had received bills from New York and Canada. He had a very good idea why Clayton hadn’t sold the unentailed cottage. He had a very good idea why Clayton had spent so much time in Cumberland before his admittance to Rosewood, spending a small fortune on dresses and other female fripperies.
Sophie was still finishing the second letter.
The youngest girl, Ismérie, stood in the doorway, eyeing him warily. The uniform. There was nothing he could do about that. He did send the girl a reassuring smile, though it seemed to have the opposite effect as she ran to her mother’s chair and hid behind it.
She must have whispered something to her older sister as both girls made a hasty retreat back into the corridor.
Sophie glanced up from her letter, her cheeks a bit flushed and her gaze locked with Gabe’s. He handed her the letter that Clayton had sent their sister at her prison.
There was only one letter left. This one addressed to him in his brother’s hand. Gabe broke the Northwold seal and unfolded Clayton’s words.
Gabriel,
I am dying. My life of debauchery has finally caught up with me. Of course, by the time you read this, I will be dead and you will already be aware of this miserable fact. I have nearly summoned you home a dozen times over the last year. However, I am stopped from doing so each time as I do not want you to watch me waste away in the state of decline that awaits me. I do not look forward to experiencing it myself, but there is no way around that, unfortunately. Please know that I have always held you in the highest regard, and I am certain that Northwold will prosper under your care.
Northwold is yours, Gabriel. By God’s grace or just dumb luck, it turns out that our parents were, in fact, legally married. Father had no way of knowing that, of course. He is still the scoundrel we accused him of, that is unchanged. In going through Father’s papers after acquiring the earldom, I discovered the name of his first wife – Anne Hendley, prior to their marriage. Together Father and Anne had two children, Augusta – whom I am certain you have now met. And Charles – whose birth caused his mother’s death, an entire year prior to our parent’s marriage. Legally, you and I are legitimate heirs to Northwold as our brother Charles met his own death in the Michigan territory.
Should Beckbury or anyone else from Father’s regiment question our legitimacy, Augusta has brought with her from America, both her parents’ marriage license and her mother’s certificate of death. These documents are a treasure I had never dreamt we would acquire when I first attempted to locate Anne. I simply wanted to right whatever I could in regards to Father’s wrongs all those years ago. I never expected legitimacy, I never expected to be reunited with a sister and nieces I did not know existed. They are also a treasure, Gabriel. In the short time I have known Aurelie and Ismérie, they have brought me immense joy, like the children I never had. I only wish I had been able to spend more time with them, but my time has grown short.
Our sister is a dichotomy. Augusta is both incredibly strong and incredibly fragile at the same moment. I know you will see to her care as well as that of our nieces, just as I have done. They, along with Northwold, could not hope for a better protector. And just like Northwold, they have been through much.
As I see my time on Earth coming to an end, I have given quite a lot of thought to life. I do not know if God is real, if there is a Heaven or Hell. I am also not certain where I will spend eternity should either location truly exist. However, I like to think that I shall have the chance to watch you from above, my dear, honorable brother. And I am equally certain that you will prove to be more successful than I could ever hope to be.
Your devoted brother,
Clayton
The treasure Clayton still screamed for. That lump that had lodged in Gabe’s throat broke and an anguished cry escaped him. Sophie reached for his hand and squeezed it tightly. Why wouldn’t Clayton have called him home before now? Together they could have—
“Mr. Burroughs the investigator?” Sophie asked pleasantly, glancing at Augusta and her daughters.
Gabe’s sister nodded. “He arrived at Fort Macon with a note from Lord Liverpool demanding the immediate release of the Earl of Northwold’s sister and daughters into Mr. Burroughs’ care.”
“You know Burroughs?” Gabe asked his wife.
“Only by reputation. Chase has mentioned him in awe.”
Gabe handed Sophie the last letter, but his attention was focused on his sister and his nieces. “How long have you been here?”
“Almost three years, not quite.”
“I see.” He nodded.
“Your parents…” Sophie glanced up quickly, blinking rather meaningfully at Gabe.
“Quite legal, it appears,” he replied softly, though there were so many other things to focus on in those letters. An entire family Gabe had never known he had.
“Lord Northwold says you brought family documents back with you from America?” Sophie asked.
Augusta nodded. “In the safe in Clayton’s study.”
“I wish he’d sent for me,” Gabe breathed out. “I would have…”
“He knew he was sick.” Augusta heaved a sigh. “Before he even found us, he knew he was dying. He was quite adamant that you not witness his decline.” She shook her head. “He meant to make restitutions to my mother before he died, to leave you unburdened by the past.”
Unburdened by the past? Gabe would never be that. How the devil was he to take care of all of them? His one hope had been to sell Fairhaven to keep Northwold afloat. But he couldn’t do that now. He couldn’t sell the home where his sister and nieces lived, the one haven they’d found since their ordeal at Frenchtown.
He pushed off the settee. “Excuse me,” he said. “I think I need to stretch my legs for a bit.” Not that he had a hope of divine intervention hitting him, but suddenly the walls in that sitting room threatened to suffocate him as did the weight and magnitude of his duties.
“Gabe,” Sophie said, coming to her feet. “I’ll come with you.”
But he shook his head. He needed to be alone with his own thoughts. “I won’t be long, Soph.”