Page 6 of The Duke Who Loved a Widow
Lady Thraxton waved at Frederick, who waved back.
“I think Frederick may be around the same age as Henry. We must call on Lady Rathby next week. Her husband is in Belgium with Wellington and unlikely to return this year,” said Lady Thraxton.
Turning to her daughter, Lady Thraxton continued, “Emma, my dear. Come along. Cook will be unhappy if we are late and luncheon is spoiled.”
Emma raced up, face flushed. “Mama, can we invite Nathaniel, erm, Reverend Colbrooke, to dinner next week?”
Grace smiled, a knowing look on her face. “I see no reason why not. I’d like him to meet Arabella and wonder whether he might tutor Henry.”
Lady Thraxton turned to Arabella. “He recently graduated from Cambridge in classics and I believe he plans to tutor Frederick at Castle Montbury. I think it possible that the two boys could have lessons together.”
Arabella’s heart warmed, full of thanks for her aunt who had considered little Henry’s every need.
“Would the dowager allow that?” she queried. “It would be good for Henry to start lessons again and have a friend his own age.”
“I believe so,” replied her aunt. “Helena Musgrave may not choose to talk to her neighbours after church services, but she is generous-hearted. Much of what you’ve seen today is just her manner.”
“She looks haughty and proud, but as you say, it is her manner and station in life,” added Emma. “When we dine tête-à-tête she is always pleasant.”
“She makes some very strange decisions, too. Every year, she hosts a house party with a soirée and ball, which clashes with the village’s summer fair. It makes her seem very aloof to the villagers. It creates distance between the castle and the community. I’m not sure she even realizes the impact,” said Aunt Grace.
Later that afternoon, Henry came dashing up to Arabella. “Mama, can I take Dash for a walk into the village? Emma says she will come with me. Oh, please say yes.”
Emma, following behind Henry, nodded her agreement, and Arabella smiled to herself, remembering the thrill of young love and knowing that Emma probably hoped to catch a glimpse of the Reverend Colbrooke.
The sun was still shining, and looking forward to some time alone, Arabella found her way to a south-facing gazebo in the far reaches of Horton Hall’s gardens. She carried her notebook and graphite pencil. Since arriving at Horton, ideas for a new volume of poems were flooding into her head.
Her wavy jet-black hair, coiled up in pins, now fell around her face, always in stark contrast to her milky pale complexion. She ran her fingers through her hair, pushing it back from her face, intently thinking of rhyming couplets. Her hair had always been wild and difficult to contain. When Arabella looked directly at people for the first time, they were surprised to see jade jewel green eyes contrasting with her dark hair.
Edward had been a good man, and she had expected to spend the rest of her life with him at Farrington Hall. The trauma of his sudden death, followed by the shock of Edward’s cousin Christopher launching a personal attack on her character, followed by formal legal action, had left her emotionally exhausted.
Now, for the first time, here at Horton Hall, I feel rested and more like myself again. I can think about Christopher Farrington and wonder why he is so keen to have total control over Henry and his trust fund.
Her thoughts drifted away from her writing, back to the mystery of why Edward’s cousin had embarked on this vendetta against her.
Henry is to all intents and purposes, Viscount Farrington, but won’t inherit until he is eighteen years of age. Christopher Farrington is determined to have me declared unfit for co-guardianship.
Why was he legally challenging her fitness to supervise her own son or run a household she had overseen for ten years? A household that ran like clockwork and never exceeded its budget.
Arabella gazed across the garden, bright yellow daffodils and aconites shining against the lawn to welcome springtime. The aconites looked so pretty but concealed a deadly poison. She thought of the similarity with Christopher, who had always been so pleasant and friendly when a guest at Farrington Hall while Edward had been alive.
I hardly know the man, yet he chooses to hound me, plants spies in my household, and is so mean with the household allowance that we had no candles last winter.
There were no easy answers, but it helped to have distance. She shuddered at the thought of living under the same roof as Mr and Mrs Christopher Farrington.
Here she was in Yorkshire, with a family who cared about her and were determined to support her in fighting Christopher Farrington’s legal action.
After an hour of writing and crossing out ideas in her notebook, she was happy with her work and wandered back to the house.
I think I’ll go and meet Henry and Emma in the village. We can walk back together. It’s getting chilly, and I suspect Henry will have forgotten his coat.
The path led down the lane to the village and onto the village green, which just happened to be directly opposite St Mary’s Church and Parsonage. Seeing Emma talking intently with the Reverend Colbrooke, Arabella quickened her pace, wondering briefly where Henry had wandered off to.
Emma looks so intent in her conversation that she hasn’t noticed Henry isn’t there. I guess it takes a mother to be ever vigilant with an adventurous child of eight.
She could see Dash in the distance on the path leading into the woods.
Ah, where Henry goes, Dash will follow, she thought. I won’t disturb Emma. I’ll leave her talking to the vicar and gather Henry from whatever adventure he is engaged in.
