Page 59 of What a Widow Wants

Spreading marmalade on a piece of toast, Matthew contemplated the half-eaten plate of food before him with loathing. The smoked herring had been too salty, the sausages burned, the cold veal pie a congealed mess, and now he feared the toast would be stale. Nothing tasted right this morning. Nothing had been right ever since he had broken with Fanny.

He’d fled Lyttlefield Park at first light, still incensed by Fanny’s high-handed manner. The carriage had made excellent time, due to a lucky decision to give the Three Pigeons his custom. They had been able to change the horses immediately, thus continuing without any significant loss of time. Once they’d arrived at Hunt House mid-afternoon, he’d called around to his club, but it was deadly dull. Most chaps had already left Town for their country estates for Christmas, which it was high time he did as well.

Although he had planned to leave for Hunter’s Cross this morning after breakfast, he found himself dragging his feet. Thinking about Fanny and their latest quarrel. Perhaps he’d been wrong to have waited to see her. It must look to her as though he’d abandoned her and Ella, but that wasn’t true. He’d simply needed time to wrap his head around the notion that Ella was his actual daughter, an amazing notion when he stopped to think about it. Even if he had missed much of her babyhood, he could still be a part of her life forever, if he only could make peace with her mother.

Even after his ire over the situation had cooled, his desire for Fanny certainly hadn’t. Seeing her in Kent had answered that question once and for all, for he’d been uncomfortably aroused during the wedding ceremony, thinking that if it had been their ceremony he’d have forsworn the wedding breakfast and spirited her away to ravish his bride without a thought for propriety. Their argument had cooled his ardor, but only for as long as it had taken him to arrive back at his empty town house. He wanted to be married to Fanny, and no other.

Tossing his napkin over his ill-fated breakfast, Matthew rose, determined to make an end to his misery. Had Fanny left yesterday as most of the guests had planned to do? If his luck was in, she might be breakfasting at Theale House this very moment. He’d send a note, asking to call. Striding out of the room, in search of his writing materials, Matthew halted in the corridor. Plague take it, he wanted more action than writing a damned note. He stepped back into the breakfast room and rang the bell.

Upton appeared precisely a minute later. “Yes, my lord?”

“Have my horse brought round the front. I need to go out this morning after all.”

“Very good, my lord.”

Matthew raced up the stairs to his suite to change into riding boots. A short ride would tell him if Fanny were home or not. If so, he would insist on seeing her and would not leave until they had reached an accord. If she had not arrived yet, he’d continue to Hyde Park and work off his excess energy there on Spartan. Whistling a bawdy drinking tune, he blew into his empty chamber. It might be empty now, but by God it wasn’t going to be for much longer.

* * *

The slowing carriage woke Fanny, who stretched and sat up. They were pulling into a coaching inn to change the horses. She’d ask to go in for a few minutes, to get some tea and bread and butter for her and Ella. She rubbed the child’s back. “Wake up, sleepy head.”

With an amazing yawn, Ella sat up. “Where are we, Mama?”

“At a place called the Duke of Wellington Inn, my love. Do you see the sign?” She pointed at the placard hanging over the door with the duke’s coat of arms painted on it. “We are here to change the horses and stretch our legs. Want to come with me to find something to eat?”

The child nodded happily, and Fanny pulled her coat around her, then helped her from the carriage. “We will be back shortly, Davies,” she called as they trudged across the cold courtyard.

Presently she and Ella were sipping tea and chatting over a plum tart, although Fanny could only nibble hers. The swaying motion of the carriage had made her stomach queasy, likely because of the child. Another child for her and Matthew. It scarcely seemed possible. She must pray very hard that he forgive her folly and come to her in Copsale. The alternative, to bear this child without benefit of a husband, she refused to think of.

They finished quickly, then stood for a moment, stretching their legs before returning to the carriage. The sun was not quite directly overhead as they swept out of the inn yard. Still many hours of travel ahead of them. Perhaps she could take her mind off of Matthew and her queasy stomach. “Shall we sing songs for a while, Ella?”

“Oh, yes, Mama.” The girl sat up straight, blue eyes sparkling. “What shall we sing? Do you know ‘London Bridge’?”

“Yes, lovey. Why don’t you start it?”

They whiled away the hours singing and playing clapping games until Ella fell asleep again, leaving Fanny to drowse against the carriage door until she roused when they stopped at another inn, the Chequers in Southwater. Again she and Ella went in although this time Fanny requested a room for an hour so she and Ella could use the necessary, wash up, and have a real meal.

All too soon they were back in the carriage, now a bit more uncomfortable than before from the weariness of travel, and on their way on the last leg of the journey. By Fanny’s estimation, they should arrive at her cousin’s home in Copsale in time for tea. Nothing would be more welcome than to cease moving and truly rest. She did hope Cousin Harriet had received her note. Otherwise she and Ella would be quite the surprise.

Fanny must have dozed off again, for the slowing of the carriage made her eyes flutter open. She sat up, moving Ella who slept with her head in her mother’s lap.

“Are we here?” She spoke aloud, easing her daughter onto the seat beside her. Expecting a row of houses, she peered out of the window. To her surprise, all she saw were trees in the afternoon sunlight. Peering and squinting to see in front of the carriage, she could discover no reason why they should have stopped. Had the horse thrown a shoe? The carriage seemed level, so they likely hadn’t broken a wheel. She knocked on the trap. “Davies! What seems to be the matter?”

The carriage door nearest her opened and the coachman peered in.

“Why have we stopped?”

“You need to get out, my lady.” He shot his hand forward and grabbed her wrist.

“What? No! Let me go!” Fanny pulled against him, outraged. Had the man gone stark staring mad? “What are you doing?”

Releasing her arm, he threw her back against the seat and grabbed Ella instead, who shrieked and tried to scoot backward.

“No!” Fanny lunged at him, striking him on his shoulder.

He flung her off, slid his arms around Ella, and hoisted her into the air. She kicked out wildly, her heels striking him in his chest. Still nothing deterred him and he dragged the child out of the carriage and dumped her onto the grass.

“Lord Theale will have your guts for garters when I tell him what you have done.” Fanny scrambled out the door and swooped down, putting her arms around her weeping child. “He has never brooked such disrespect from his servants.”