The Baron's Wife by Maggi Andersen (15)

Laura still felt uneasy the next day. She stared out of her bedroom window, her restless gaze taking in little of the landscape. What had happened to her dreams of a rich, cultured life, sharing her husband’s thoughts and dreams? Annoyed with herself, she stared upward, where wisps of cloud drifted across the pewter blue sky. The weather in Cornwall was so changeable: calm with blue skies one day, stormy the next. It mirrored her thoughts.

As there was no sign of storm clouds lurking out over the horizon, she decided to ride to the estuary. Nathaniel hadn’t had time to show her more of the coastline said to be a beautiful part of Cornwall.

After breakfast, Laura set out alone, taking the road which led away from the village into undiscovered terrain. Now familiar and comfortable with her roan mare, Velvet, a good-natured horse, she rode past fields of cows and horses. A dray loaded with produce passed by on the way to the house. The driver smiled and touched his hat. Laura decided she must visit the home farm next.

Trotting along a road heading west, she called “good morning” to a man who straightened from his garden and removed his hat. Farther on, a woman bobbed as she walked to the market with a basket over her arm.

“It’s a fine day, isn’t it?” Laura called out.

“That it is, my lady.”

The cottages grew sparser, and then the road followed the rivulet, which fed into a wide lake alive with bird life. Long-legged, wading birds flocked noisily over the reeds. Wild grasses covered the rounded, sandy hills dotted with wildflowers. Laura left the road and urged her horse up a trail over the hillocks. Buffeted by the wind, the ocean’s roar in her ears, she peered down upon a sheltered bay, which looked like a giant had taken a bite out of the coastline. Laura dismounted and tethered her horse to a spindly tree. She walked over soft sand to the deserted shore.

At the water’s edge a set of footprints crossed the damp sand. Someone had walked here not long ago, for the waves were now sweeping the sand clean.

A gust whipped off her hat. Laura grabbed it as the strong wind toyed with the bun at the nape of her neck, unraveling her hair from its pins. She gave into it, removing the remaining pins and combs while staring out to sea, her locks and her skirts billowing around her. The horizon was a hard line of dark metallic gray beyond the turbulent water. She took a deep breath and felt alive in a way she’d never experienced before. The ocean was so vast it was both humbling and awe-inspiring. With a rush, she realized that Wolfram had become home to her. Her passion for this small piece of England, and for Nathaniel, filled her heart. She hugged herself with her arms. Shelley’s poem, Mont Blanc, rushed into her mind, and she murmured a line:

“My, my. We have an educated lady among us.”

Furious, Laura swung around. With that insolent smile, Theo Mallory had emerged from a pile of boulders and retraced his footprints across the sand.

Laura disliked being alone with him. More annoyed than afraid, she kept her features deceptively composed as he approached, destroying her peace. His manner, coupled with what Cilla had told her about him, made her wary.

She nodded, coolly polite. “Mr. Mallory.”

“Lord Lanyon does have excellent taste, I’ll give him that. Your hair is like a red sail at sunset,” Mallory said with a bland half-smile. He held up a hand, as if he wished to stroke her hair.

“Your opinion is not welcome, Mr. Mallory.” Laura attempted to gather her hair into some semblance of order. “I came here to enjoy the beauty and solitude.”

He laughed. “This is not Lanyon land, my lady, although I admit there’s very little around here that isn’t. I have as much right as you to enjoy the scenery.” His gaze roamed over her body.

Laura resisted the urge to cover her chest with her arms. “It appears my pleasure has evaporated.”

Having twisted her hair into a rough bun, she secured it with combs and turned away to walk back to her horse. On the crest of the hill, Hugh Pitney appeared on his chestnut.

“It seems you have company,” Mallory said, eyeing him.

So, Nathaniel had asked him to keep an eye on her. Right now, Laura could only be glad. Curious, she looked back at Mallory. Praise generally worked on an arrogant man. “I believe you worked closely with the former Lady Lanyon in the design of the rose garden.”

His gaze sharpened. He smoothed back his golden hair. “That’s correct.”

“Then I must congratulate you. The arbor is a work of art.”

He shifted his feet. “We had great plans for the Wolfram gardens, Lady Lanyon and I,” he said softly. “Many plans.” He stared up at Pitney again, who’d made no move toward them. “They crumbled to dust when someone killed her.”

Laura took a sharp breath. “What makes you think she was murdered? The coroner’s finding was accidental death.”

He scowled. “Am… Lady Lanyon was nervous of the cliffs. She would not have gone too close.”

“You were not her ladyship’s confidant, surely.”

“That I was.”

Why Amanda had allowed such familiarity from this man was beyond her. “I find that difficult to believe, Mr. Mallory. Why you?”

He shrugged. “Why not me? Perhaps there was no one else.”

She ignored the insult aimed at Nathaniel. “Who would want her dead?”

He looked at her, his eyes distant. “Ask your ice-cold husband, my lady. He may well know the answer.”

Mallory strode away before Laura could reply. Not that she could have, for words had dried up in her throat. He disappeared behind the rocks, as she stood gasping with anger. Mallory’s heated response could well be an attempt to hide his own culpability. She was about to mount her horse and join Mr. Pitney when something in the water caught her eye.

“Oh!” A glossy seal’s head emerged from the water, so foreign and strange that she laughed. Its sleek gray body rode the waves. Transfixed by the amazing creature, she failed to see the ship that had rounded the point until it was almost in front of her. The three-masted vessel sailed close to shore. She had seen it before, when on the cliff with Nathaniel. Laura raised a hand to shield her eyes against the glare, but she couldn’t make out anyone on board. The ship sailed out of sight around the point. She’d never seen a vessel of that size moored in the harbor, only fishing boats.

She ran back and took up the reins, leading Velvet to where Mr. Pitney waited.

“That Theo Mallory is a bad man, my lady,” he said, as he helped her to mount.

“In what way?”

“Not my place to say. But I’d keep him at a distance.”

She drew up the reins and turned her horse toward home. “I have every intention of it.”

Mallory’s attack on Nathaniel must be pure spite. What did he have against him? Cilla had said he was in love with Amanda. That was certainly possible. But how did Amanda feel about him? Although Laura found him obsequious, she could see how some women might enjoy his flattery and flirtatious manner.

The painting of Cilla’s with the scarlet-dressed woman sprang into Laura’s mind. Laura was certain there wasn’t a crimson dress in Amanda’s closet. She seemed to favor colors which suited her blonde hair and blue eyes. And she would hardly wear a dress like that during the day. Might Cilla have painted Amanda in scarlet because it added color to the painting, or could it have been a condemnation? Laura sensed a mystery and was impatient to learn more. Might it be the key to unlock Nathaniel’s reserve? Or was she becoming fanciful?

On Friday, Laura accompanied Teg to Penzance. Nathaniel’s train pulled into the station with a loud hiss, filling the air with sooty smoke. Laura straightened the skirts of her new outfit as she waited for him to alight. She hoped her new pink, green and white pique gown with its gilt buttons and Eton jacket, and the straw hat with the matching green silk band, would please him. When he stepped onto the platform, he looked so tired and strained that she had to hold herself back from rushing into his arms. She smiled as he kissed her cheek.

Teg drove them through the green valley toward Wolfram. “Was your trip a success?” Laura asked.

“Yes, thank you, my dear.”

Their shoulders touched as the carriage swung around a corner, but it seemed as if there was a wide gulf between them. Nathaniel would make love to her tonight. The thought made her treacherous body respond. She wished she could keep a cool head around him. Nathaniel would lose himself in the lovemaking, and for a while, he would be hers. But no matter how closely he held her, she seemed unable to reach his heart. Was it unreasonable of her to want more?

Nathaniel’s voice broke into her thoughts, discussing his week, pleased with the support for the changes to the Poor Law Act. He was behind a bill to set up orphanages in Southern England, the first to be for homeless girls in Bodmin. She watched him, proud of her handsome husband and she said so. She was rewarded with a warm smile. But then he passed a tired hand over his eyes.

“It was kind of you to come to meet me, but unnecessary, Laura. Please don’t bother next time.”

“I thought you’d be pleased.” She wanted to add that she couldn’t wait another minute to see him, but felt too shy to utter it.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart.” He squeezed her gloved hand. “It’s all in its infancy. I don’t wish to bore you.”

“But you weren’t,” she said. “It’s a very good cause.”

“It is good to see you.” His gaze roamed from her hair down to her waist. “That is a pretty dress. You look as lovely as a flowering peach tree.” He drew down her glove and kissed the inside of her wrist, “the fruit too tasty to resist.”

“Hush, Nathaniel,” Laura murmured, aware of Teg’s sturdy back near enough to hear every word, but she was pleased, and her pulse leapt at the touch of his warm lips on her skin.

He smiled and tucked her hand through his arm. “It’s wonderful to be home.”

While he was in a good mood, she decided to broach the subject of the phone call. “Nathaniel, that letter…?”

The warm spark disappeared, and the gray depths of his eyes became unfathomable. “I told you I will deal with the matter, Laura.”

Laura bit her lip. Her spirit, which might have deserted her in recent times, rose like a smoldering fire in her breast. She would have this out with him in the privacy of their bedroom. She accepted the irony of it, that this would be the catalyst for change.

When they settled in front of the library fire after an excellent dinner, Laura described to Nathaniel the swatches of fabric for the dining room curtains she’d ordered from London. “A bright chintz would bring this room to life,” she added, noting Nathaniel’s unenthusiastic response.

He frowned. “My mother chose those curtains. There’s so little of her here, I suppose I’ve been reluctant to replace them.”

Laura flushed, feeling awkward. But that must have been years ago. Odd that although there were portraits of family members stretching back through the years, she’d found none of his mother. “Is there a likeness of your mother here? I must say I’m curious to know what she was like.”

Nathaniel sighed. “They are all at another one of my properties. I’ve been meaning to have them brought here.”

How very strange. Consumed with curiosity, she longed to ask him, but he turned the page of his newspaper, apparently inviting no further questions. Had Amanda faced the same problem? “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

“How could you?” Nathaniel reached across and squeezed her hand before returning to his paper.

Was that to be the end of the matter? Nathaniel’s expression gave little clue to his mood. Laura continued regardless. “I know you will wish to vet my ultimate choice, but I’ve interviewed a local woman for the position of housekeeper. Another in London has expressed interest. She comes with a referral from one of my mother’s friends.” Her mother’s reply to her letter had arrived almost by the next post. To Laura’s relief, she hadn’t asked any awkward questions.

Nathaniel’s face remained hidden by the broadsheet. “Nathaniel? Did you hear what I said?”

He lowered the paper. “I did. You have been busy.”

She eyed him apprehensively. “You don’t approve?”

“Of course I do, sweetheart. Wolfram needs a housekeeper. But a woman from London may not be suitable. She would be unfamiliar with our ways, and she could have difficulty with the language.”

She firmed her lips. “I must tell you about the fête.”

He smiled. “Ah yes, the fête. Did it go well?”

Laura failed to mention the accusation of murder she’d overheard. She suspected he’d bat it away like everything else this evening. “I visited Mrs. Moffat’s mother who’s been sickly. She was very glad to have company and loved the warm shawl I brought her. I have great plans to visit the school, and I’ve asked the vicar’s help so I might visit the poor.”

“I have only been gone a week, and so much has been achieved!” He raised his dark brows. “I am proud of you, sweetheart. But no wonder you look tired. You can’t do it all at once, you know.” He smiled. “I see I was right. I knew you would soon become a graceful asset who the people of Wolfram would come to value.” He drank the last of his brandy, stubbed out his cigar and rose. “Shall we retire?”

It was a perfunctory response to say the least. Exasperated and disappointed, Laura followed him from the room. Being told she was an asset was not the reaction she wanted from him. He was pleased with her plans, but she detected a certain reserve on his part. It appeared everything was to remain forever undisturbed, like still water hiding the turbulent current beneath. She was not so easily dismissed. With each step on the staircase, Laura’s frustration built. By the time she’d reached her chamber, she felt ready to explode. But with a soft caress of her cheek, Nathaniel entered his bedroom and left her to simmer.

***

Nathaniel entered his bedchamber to undress. He pulled off his cravat, tossed it onto the chair and began to undo his waistcoat buttons. Any mention of his mother and his life before Laura came here made his throat tighten. It had to be addressed. Keeping it from her was wrong, but he needed time to set things to rights. She had flashed those green eyes at him earlier with a challenge he’d felt unable to meet. Just now, all he wanted was to bury the past and live in the moment. To take her in his arms and feel the knots of strain unravel as her soft body and her warmth became a balm to his senses.

He should have insisted she accompany him to London. He’d lain awake every night worrying about her and missing her, and after her telephone call advising him of the letter, worry had almost crippled him. His every thought remained in Cornwall, when he needed to be clear minded and focused on garnering support for the bill. He could no longer ignore how vulnerable his need for her made him. Although he wasn’t a fearful man when it came to his own hide, what he felt for Laura was something beyond his understanding. He should have known. His failure to gain control over his emotions in the past hadn’t served him well.

In his dressing gown, he opened the panel, finding Laura alone. She stood with her camisole half over her head.

“May I be of help?” He stepped into the room.

“No, thank you,” she murmured, her voice muffled.

She dragged the camisole off with a tearing sound and stood in her lacy bloomers, an arm placed defensively across her chest, her hair swinging and every deep breath seemingly of anger. Yes, anger, Nathaniel thought, eyeing her. He paused midway across the room, admiring his beautiful wife and knowing himself to blame.

“You are angry with me?”

She frowned. “Is there nothing I can do here that you truly approve of?”