Chapter Eleven − A Surprise Visit
As the ton began to flee London after the Season had ended, Madeline remained.
Now, that joining Lord Townsend’s house party was no longer an option, she simply did not know what to do. Within a matter of weeks, her life had turned upside down, and she felt utterly and completely lost.
What was it that she wanted?
She could not say.
Not long ago, she had wanted Townsend…or at least she had thought so. Now, however, Madeline was not so sure. Had she ever truly wanted him? Or had he merely been the one to best fulfil her expectations of a husband?
Whenever she remembered the night at the ball when he had kissed her, Madeline cringed. His words had shamed her, made her see that she had been willing to compromise her own principles, her own virtues. And for what?
Him?
His kiss had not made her feel…not the way her husband’s had.
After all, she had kissed him out of anger and disappointment, to take revenge upon the man who had rejected her. There had been no tenderness and consideration. Lord Townsend had not looked at her…not the way her husband had. He knew nothing about her, had not seen the tension that had held her in its clutches. He had not cared.
Not truly.
But neither had her husband.
And yet, had there not been a moment…a short moment…when he had looked at her…and seen her?
“Lady Elmridge,” the butler intoned, and Madeline almost flinched. “Shall I see her inside?”
“Certainly.” Swallowing, Madeline turned away from the window and toward the door. “Elsbeth, how good of you to come,” she greeted her friend warmly. At least one friendly face! “I thought you had already left London. Did you not tell me that you only intended to stay for a month while repairs were made to Elmridge after the fire?”
A soft smile on her face, Elsbeth shook her head reproachfully. “I would never leave without saying goodbye, and I’m hurt that you would suggest such a thing.” She grasped Madeline’s hands, a warm glow in her eyes. “I came to see how you were. You left rather abruptly…that night…and I didn’t know…I mean I was wondering…”
“Nothing happened,” Madeline stated, cringing at the sigh of relief that escaped her friend. “Well, maybe not nothing,” she admitted, gesturing for Elsbeth to sit down before sinking onto the settee. “I kissed him.”
“What?” her friend’s mouth dropped open.
Unable to meet Elsbeth’s eyes, Madeline played with the hem of her sleeve. “I immediately regretted it. He thought…he thought I wanted to be his mistress.”
Her friend drew in a deep breath, her blue eyes watchful. “But wasn’t that what you told me? What you said your husband had suggested?”
Madeline shrugged, trying to make sense of the chaos in her head. “I know it sounds foolish, but I hadn’t thought about it like that. I just…When he called me that, it…it made me realise that I was making a mistake.” Grinning at her friend sheepishly, Madeline sighed. “There. Happy? No need to point it out.”
“I had no intention of making any comment on the matter,” Elsbeth said, a teasing smile on her face.
“Thank you.”
“What are you going to do now?”
Shaking her head, Madeline shrugged. “I don’t know. I wish I did, but now…”
“You do not still plan on attending Lord Townsend’s house party, do you?”
“Of course not!” Madeline exclaimed. “Even I know how foolish that would be. He does not care for me. He only…”
“Do you care for him?” Elsbeth asked, her watchful eyes once again gliding over Madeline’s face. “I never once heard you say so.”
“I don’t think I do,” Madeline admitted. “I guess it was only the idea of a future with him that I liked.”
“What about your husband?”
Staring at her friend, Madeline did not know what to say. After all, he did not want her. He had made that unmistakably clear.
“What is holding you back?” Elsbeth asked as she came to sit next to Madeline on the settee, her scarred hand gently settling on Madeline’s chilled one. “I truly believe that you need to give your marriage a chance, Madeline. What do you have to lose? So far, I’ve only heard good things about your husband. While he may be of humble origin, he has never acted in a shameful way and always carries himself with great composure.”
Madeline nodded. Elsbeth was right. He had impeccable manners, and she never would have thought him a soldier judging him by his behaviour alone. She could have easily believed him a high-born son. A true gentleman. Whatever that meant.
“In addition,” Elsbeth continued, “he seems to be a loyal friend to Lord Elton.”
At that, Madeline could not help but snort, “Is Lord Elton not rumoured to be a madman? Now, what does that say about my husband?”
A reproachful frown came to Elsbeth’s face. “For one, it means that your husband is the kind of man who would not abandon a friend in a time of need. And for another, it has become known that Lord Elton’s late uncle himself circulated these rumours to steal his nephew’s title.” Gently squeezing Madeline’s hand, Elsbeth smiled. “There is more to people than meets the eye, Madeline. You yourself should know. I doubt many people see beneath your own cheerful and carefree exterior.”
Meeting her friends’ eyes, Madeline sighed, grateful to have a friend who could. A friend who knew her. It was a priceless gift!
“You should give your husband a chance and find out who he truly is,” Elsbeth urged her, her voice insistent. “Go to him, Madeline. Go to him and find out.”
Madeline shook her head. “He does not want me. He made that very clear. He does not even seem to want my dowry.”
“Well, he must have had a reason for following you that night,” Elsbeth pointed out. “Aren’t you curious to find out why?”
Torn about what to do, Madeline hesitated, and yet, she could not deny that her heart beat a little faster at the thought of seeing her husband again.
What a strange world this was!
***
“The saw my brother-in-law ordered will be delivered in a few weeks’ time,” Derek said to Mr. Thompson as the two of them came to stand before the one vacant outbuilding at Huntington House. “Until then, I suggest we use the boards from this barn to make repairs to your houses.”
Turning to him with slightly widened eyes, Mr. Thompson cleared his throat, the look on his face one of utter confusion. “You want us to take apart your barn?” he asked, glancing uphill at the small group of tenants approaching from their farms to the north. On Derek’s behest, Mr. Thompson had called them together, promising help for their own ramshackle houses.
Derek nodded. “As it stands empty, I have no need for it, and there is no reason to see the wood wasting away without it serving a purpose.” His gaze briefly shifted to the small group of weary men as they made their way slowly down the hill and toward them. “I know that they distrust me and that I will have to prove that I am a man true to my word,” he said to Mr. Thompson, his gaze unwavering, asking the man for his assistance. “I would ask you to act as a mediator between us. You know these men. They will listen to you.”
For a moment, Mr. Thompson’s gaze narrowed as though suspicion had claimed him once more. However, after a while, he nodded. “I shall see that the wood is distributed as it is needed, my lord. You needna worry. These are fine men. They willna touch anything that isna theirs.”
“I believe you misunderstand me,” Derek said with a slight smile on his face. “I’m not worried they might steal anything. After all, there’s not much to steal, is there?” Mr. Thompson’s lips twitched, betraying a touch of humour. “All I ask is that you meet me with an open mind and allow me to prove that I have your best interest at heart. If you can do that, then they might as well.”
Mr. Thompson inhaled deeply. Then he nodded. “I shall.”
“Thank you.”
As the group of tenants reached them, their faces holding a mixture of confusion and distrust, Mr. Thompson set about to making introductions. While the men were taken aback when Derek offered them his hand in greeting, their eyes bulged wide when he rolled up his sleeves and set to work alongside them. Together, they loosened board after board from the barn with the few tools Derek had managed to obtain. As the hours passed and Kara and his mother joined them outside, offering drink and food as refreshment, the mood slowly shifted from strained suspicion to careful camaraderie.
Glancing at the men who worked beside him, Derek felt a sense of pride he remembered from his days in the army. Standing together and working toward a common goal was a powerful way to bond men together. He had seen it before. Experienced it before. And he could only hope his experience would not fail him now.
By the time afternoon drew near, almost a complete wall was missing from the barn, leaving only the widely spaced poles that supported the roof and had held the boards in place.
“My lord, can we speak to ye?”
At the sound of Mr. Thompson’s voice, Derek slid the claw hammer into his belt and turned around, his gaze shifting from the bearded tenant to a younger man by his side. If Derek recalled correctly, his name was Finch.
“Mr. Thompson, Mr. Finch, what can I do for you?” he asked, noting the tension that held the younger man rigid as his eyes continually dropped to the ground. He was clearly uncomfortable. Derek only hoped it was something he could help him with.
Clasping a comforting hand on the younger man’s shoulder, Mr. Thompson stepped forward. “David here just told me,” he said quietly, but with courage in his voice, “that he willna be able to pay his rent this year.”
“Some,” Mr. Finch threw in hastily, his cheeks reddening. “But not in full.”
Mr. Thompson nodded. “He would ask ye if he−”
Lifting a hand, Derek nodded. “Don’t worry, Mr. Finch. I know that the past years have been hard, and I can see that all of you have done a remarkable job with the tools available to you. Pay what you can,” he said, knowing that the man’s pride would not allow him to do otherwise and not wishing to insult him, “and maybe after fixing up your own home, you can give me a hand with the remaining barn. What do you say?”
Mr. Finch’s face lit up in relief, and he nodded eagerly. “Yes, my lord. Thank you, my lord.” Then he returned to the work at hand, his shoulders far more relaxed than before.
Slightly cringing at the man’s profuse gratitude, Derek turned back to Mr. Thompson and was relieved to see a spark of respect in the man’s eyes. “Thank you for your assistance,” he said to the older man. “I doubt Mr. Finch would have come to me on his own.”
Taciturn as always, Mr. Thompson merely nodded. Then he turned to help the other men load some of the boards onto a cart to transport them to the nearest farm. They would have to make a few trips. However, by nightfall, at least three farms would have the needed wood to make repairs to their walls and roofs. It was a start.
Turning to the tall facade of Huntington House, Derek lifted his head and gazed up at the roof. From down on the ground, it looked perfectly fine. If only that were true.
Two nights ago, a hard rain had come down, granting Derek a true idea of the damage to the roof. On the western side of the building, most rooms had been almost flooded, the holes there of such a size to allow torrents of rainwater inside. After moving his family to the eastern side, Derek had told them to divide the house in the middle. While they would continue to inhabit the half situated over the kitchen, the other would be closed off to avoid accidents should the roof eventually cave in. He could only hope he would be able to fix or−if necessary−replace parts of the roof before that happened.
However, as Derek understood he could not do everything at once, he would start on the eastern side of the building and hope that the roof would last for as long as he needed to work its way over to the west.
As there was nothing left to do, Derek decided to survey the situation from above. Retrieving the ladder, he had found in the remaining barn−partly used as a storage shed−he made his way up.
“Do you really think you should go up there?” Kara asked from below, shielding her eyes with one hand as she gazed up at him. “What if you break through?”
Derek shrugged as he carefully swung himself onto the overhanging part of the roof. “I don’t have a choice, Kara. I cannot make the repairs from down on the ground, now can I?”
“Wiseacre,” his sister grumbled as she stepped away and returned to the house.
Slightly crouched forward, Derek set one foot in front of the other, careful to test the roof before putting his full weight on it. Keeping his balance on the steep roof was quite an undertaking as his gaze swept over the slates laid carefully to keep out the elements. While the eastern half of the roof looked fine−spotting the leaking areas would not be easy−the western half even had parts of the rafters exposed where the slates had broken off. Derek could only hope he would get most of it fixed before winter.
As he stood, his gaze sweeping over the large roof, Derek caught a movement out of the corner of his eye. Turning his head, he squinted his eyes and saw a carriage approaching from the south. Wondering who on earth would pay them a visit, Derek found the breath catch in his throat when he could finally make out the coat-of-arms painted on the carriage’s side door.
The Earl of Carlton.
Madeline’s father.
His wife.
“What is she doing here?” he mumbled to himself as he leaned forward, almost losing his footing. Catching his balance at the last moment, Derek drew in a steadying breath, cursing himself for such immature behaviour.
Why would she come? He kept wondering as he slowly made his way back to the ladder. Never would he have thought she would take him up on his offer to stay at Huntington House. Not in his wildest dreams would he have thought that possible. Then why? What had happened? Had she gone to Townsend and…?
Gritting his teeth at the mere thought of his wife with that man, Derek found his heart racing as the carriage drew to a halt by the front stoop. The coachman jumped down and, after lowering the step, reached to open the door.
With his gaze fixed on the small opening, Derek held his breath as he waited for his first glimpse of her.
And then she stepped out, and Derek’s world began to spin.
Impeccably dressed in one of the finest gowns he had ever seen, his wife set a careful foot onto the ground. The late afternoon sun gently touched her ebony hair and porcelain skin, giving her a warm glow as though a light was shining from within. Her green eyes, however, were narrowed and her nose scrunched up as she surveyed Huntington House.
Derek’s heart sank as he knew very well what she saw.
Not a house to be turned into a home.
Not a challenge to be met head-on and turned into a triumph.
Not a future for a family that deserved better.
No, she would only see the crumbling bricks and rotting wood, the broken windows and wild-growing weeds.
She would see a house not worthy of her.
Just like when she looked at him. All she saw was a husband not worthy of her.
As he was about to address her, the front door opened, and Kara stepped outside. Her face held surprise as she surveyed the lady before her. “Good day, my lady. What brings you to Huntington House?”
Flustered, Madeline glanced around, her brows furrowed. “This has to be some mistake,” she gasped, craning her neck as though hoping to see a fine house hiding behind the bedraggled one right in front of her. “This has to be a mistake.”
“I admit,” Derek spoke from the roof, “I’m rather surprised to see you…dear wife.”
As Madeline’s head turned upward, her eyes meeting his, her cheeks losing all colour, Kara’s face split into a joyous smile. “Wife?” she stammered, glancing up at him before almost lunging herself at Madeline. “Welcome!” she exclaimed, pulling Derek’s startled wife into a hug. “We’ve all been dying to meet you. How wonderful of you to come!”
Climbing down, Derek could almost feel his wife’s gaze on him as he once more found himself wondering about her motivation to come. A part of him felt reluctant to meet her gaze and see her judgement of him, of his life and his family, and yet, he could not. He was not one to cower, to avoid what he feared.
Jumping to the ground from the third to last rung of the ladder, he turned to look at her, a challenge in his eyes. “Allow me to introduce you to my sister,” he said, and his gaze momentarily shifted to Kara’s joyous face. “Kara, this is my wife Madeline.” He knew he ought to have introduced her as Lady Ainsworth, and yet, he could not.
It was petty of him. He knew that.
Still, it was all he had.