The Wrong Bride Read online

  A sudden reddening came onto his cheeks, and he looked away from her to stab a piece of boiled and braised tongue. “Yes, of course. Why wouldn’t I?”

  It was Winnie’s turn to frown. “I… I’ve no idea. I was merely making conversation.”

  “Yes,” he said dryly. “How unlike you, too.”

  Winnie slunk into her seat and poured coffee with an unsteady hand. “Did Isabelle serve?”

  “Yes, of course, and in future, I think she should always serve. You’ve enough to do, and though you say I owe you recompense, you are not currently paid, and she is. I’ve been thinking, Winnie, when we’re divorced…” he stopped. Isabelle had come into the room carrying a filled plate for Winnie.

  “I heard voices, thought ye might have come down, thought ye might be hungry,” Isabelle said, placing the plate down without looking at Winnie. All three faces in the room were blooming with color. Isabelle turned quickly and left.

  “Do you think she heard?”

  Lance quirked an eyebrow. “Does it matter one way or the other?”

  Winnie though about it and lifted her shoulders helplessly. “I don’t know. Lance, I wonder, did you hear anything strange last night.” He stopped shoveling food in his mouth and looked at her oddly.

  “No, I don’t think so. Just the usual, you know, the creaks of the house, that sort of thing. Why?” Winnie studied his face, new-shaved, bland, and free of secrecy. He was wearing his good clothes today and looked such a fine gentleman.

  “I just wondered.” Looking away, Winnie began to cut the piece of tongue on her plate. “You’re dressed up today. Is there some special occasion?”

  “No. I’m tired from the day before, all that work gathering wood.” He chuckled, the sound teasing Winnie’s ear. “I must be in an awful state, my muscles ache so. Thought I’d be the gentleman today, work on the books, keep close to the fires, maybe read. It’s been a long time, and you’ve put the library in good order.” He was quiet before he went on more softly. “I neglected so many things after my father died.” Winnie dared a glance at him, and Lance was wearing a sad expression. “I was a terrible lad, nothing like you as a girl, Winnie. I imagine you were the perfect angel.”

  “No, I wasn’t,” she retorted with a chuckle. “I was an imp who climbed trees, shadowed the steward, Mr. Teeters, because my mother didn’t want me underfoot, ran with the dogs, chased the chickens, bedeviled the sheep. Oh, I was a terror.”

  He laughed softly, leaving a grin on the sensuous mouth that Winnie remembered intimately. Winnie looked away quickly from the warm lights in his dark eyes. She found a smile creeping back on her mouth. “I wouldn’t have thought. It.”

  She shook her head. “But I was.” They looked at each other for the space of a breathtaking minute before Lance turned away. Winnie cleared her throat. “Would you mind if I went to town today, Master Lance?”

  He sat back in his chair and put his fork and knife down. “No, I wouldn’t. You don’t often get out, do you, Winnie? Bored? Tired of doing housework?”

  “Something like that, yes.”

  “When you go, you might have Isabelle dress your hair more befitting your station, Winnie. Can she, d’you think?”

  “I don’t know. I’ll ask.”

  “Good. Before you leave, I’ve got something for you.” He reached into his waistcoat and withdrew a wallet. “Will fifteen pounds do?” he asked, extracting three five-pound notes from the wallet. Winnie’s chin dropped.

  “Oh, my, yes. I hadn’t expected anything. Ae you sure we can spare it?”

  “Of course. I didn’t come home from the war completely without resources.”

  “Oh!! Well, then, is there something I might get for you while I’m there?” He shook his head, chewing. “I will take Isabelle, too, if it’s alight.”

  Lance shrugged. “I’m sure I don’t care.”

  “I may be gone a long time.”

  Lance looked at Winnie as he chewed and swallowed before answering. “I’ve the feeling we’ll both enjoy the respite from each other,” he told her with a wry twist of his mouth.

  “Yes, well….” She let whatever she had been about to say drift and attended to her breakfast, hurrying for once. She had plans.

  Lance was in the kitchen, looking out the little side window when Winnie came down. An excited Isabelle was already waiting for her. Lance turned, taking in the new dress, bonnet, and half-boots that peeked from beneath her skirts. “I’ve had Jem ready the carriage. He’s outside already, waiting.”

  “You look very pretty, Winnie,” Frances said.

  Lance looked again. Yes, she did. Her hair was done up in a mature way, curls drawn to the back and tamed into rows beneath the attractive bonnet, the lobes of pale ears peeking out. “Thank you, Missus Frances. I don’t know when I’ll be back,” she said to Lance. He watched the pink mouth curve into a smile, saw the eyes brighten. If just going to town gave Winnie such a thrill, he might insist she do it more often. Sometimes the strain between them was all too evident to both of them.

  In the carriage just going past a bend in the road, Winnie looked out of the window, turned back and smiled at Isabelle. “Thank you for doing my hair. It makes me look quite a proper lady.”

  “But ye are a proper lady, Mistress Brevard.”

  The carriage jerked on. “I have something I wish to discuss with you, Isabelle. It may seem odd, and it’s just for your ears alone.” Winnie took a deep breath. “Mr. Brevard as you know spent many years abroad, and he’s come home very different from the young man who went off. I think he might have some kind of something or other brought back. He’d done a few strange things.” Winnie saw he the girl’s dark eyes grow. “For instance,” Winnie swallowed hard, “the other night, he was up, but he didn’t know me. I spoke to him and he didn’t answer. He, he stroked my hair, but, though I attempted to speak to him several times, he wouldn’t answer.” Winnie had thought a long time about what she was going to say, and not saying too much was the best thing, she decided, to let Isabelle draw her own conclusions.

  Isabelle sucked in her breath. “He idn’t mad, is he?”

  “I don’t think so. I don’t know what’s wrong, but I must find out. I was wondering, Isabelle,” Winnie looked directly into the girl’s eyes, “if…if at some time, he’d done something similar to what I’ve described, ah, to you.” Winnie waited. Isabelle’s mouth rounded. “Did he?”

  “I never thought nothin’ about it, you know. Jes’ thought he was like, flirtin’ an’ all, because, you know, you sleep in diff’rent rooms.”

  Oh, dear. So, now that was common knowledge, or soon would be. Winnie persisted. “What did he do?” Winnie waited, and Isabelle whimpered. “I won’t tell anyone, I promise. It’s just that I want to know what to do. I think it might have something to do with his service. You say he was flirting with you?”

  “Yes, but wan’t anythin’ bad. Just holdin’ onto me, and brushin’ my hair with his hand. That’s all there was, I swear to it, an’ it want so bad. But it was like he didn’t, I don’t know how to say it, didn’t know he was doing it. I didn’t mind, liked it in a funny sort of way. It was like I was bein’ petted.” A worried frown crossed her face and she sat back, looking urgently at Winnie. “I won’t be punished?”

  “No, certainly not. I promise.”

  “Good. Because I like the work, Mistress Brevard, an’ the pay, too. I want to save fer my bride linen, ye see, jest in case.”

  Winnie smiled. “Yes. You’ve someone in mind?”

  “Well,” Isabelle laughed unsurely. “I might.”

  “And how many times was it that Mr. Brevard accosted you.”

  “Accosted? Ye mean, ran his hand over my head?”

  “Yes, that’s it.”

  “it was only the one time, was all. I’d almost forgotten because he seemed to have put it from his mind, too, ye see.” Winnie nodded, then took a satisfied breath. It was as she suspected. Something was wrong with Lance. Perhaps the reason
Lance hadn’t tried Isabelle again was that she, Winnie, had substituted. What a relief. When she left Greenwood, Winnie would leave behind no scandal, and that was important to that house. Now she would see the doctor and he would give her a cure for whatever ailed Lance. When she went after their divorce, there would be no lingering guilty twinges of conscience left behind “Would ye mind if ye was to drop me off before the edge of town? The family lives just a walk away. Then I’ll come to town an’ foller ye, wherever ye want to go.”

  “Why, that’s a thoughtful idea, Isabelle. How very nice to have family that welcomes you.” Isabelle wondered about the wistfulness in Winnie’s voice. “We’ll meet in front of the dressmaker’s alright?” The idea was perfect. Now no one need know of her visit to the doctor. Except Hoskins, his cook and housekeeper.

  “He ain’t here,” Mistress Hoskins announced. “Won’t be back at least an hour, mebbe more.” The tight, angular face of the woman with her nose elevated spoke her disapproval. It was rare a woman came to visit.

  “May I wait? Or would you rather I come back later?”

  Hoskins’ nose rose higher. “What is it you want to see him about?”

  “Ah, I need some salve, some ointment to help…my husband, his aches and pains.”

  The woman’s head lowered to challenge Winnie. “Ye can joost as easy find somethin’ at the ‘pothecary’s.”

  Winnie nodded. “I could, but I’d prefer the doctor’s advice, if you don’t object.”

  “Suit yerself, then,” she sniffed. “I’ve work to do an’ cannot visit.”

  “it’s alright. I don’t mind waiting by myself.”

  “Hmmph!” The thin woman turned with a swish of her black skirts and Winnie watched her walk away.

  Winnie sat primly in the straight back chair and looked around, spied a newspaper, and, making sure she was alone, rose and brought the paper back to sit again. The news was a week old, but Winnie didn’t mind and began reading. Almost through the whole of it, Winnie heard voices, a man’s and a woman’s sounding like Mistress Hoskins. Hurriedly, Winnie closed the paper and folded it just as it had been and returned it to the little table where she’d found it before scooting back to the uncomfortable chair once more.

  A man came through the corridor and poked his head into the waiting room. “Winnie! How good it is to see you.”

  Winnie smiled. “Dr. Collins.” He raised his arms and came forward. Winnie extended her gloved hand, which he bent over and kissed lightly.

  “Can’t be anything wrong with you, m’dear. You look in the bloom of health.”

  From behind him, Hoskins spoke. “Came fer some liniment, er somethin’. Told her she could find what she needed at the ‘pothecary’s.”

  “Yes, well, Mistress Hoskins, perhaps you might make a fresh pot of tea for our guest.” His gaze swung back to Winnie. “Or would you prefer coffee, a glass of wine?”

  “Thank you, no, I’m not thirsty.”

  “Well, I am,” boomed the doctor. “Please, Mistress Hoskins.” He turned and bent his head to the woman, who drew herself up and retired down the corridor. Collins waited until his housekeeper’s back was past the hallway. “That will take a bit of time. Come along into the office and tell me why you’ve come to see me. I trust this is not a social call.”

  “No, it isn’t.” The doctor nodded and walked off with Winnie following. Collins waved Winnie into a chair in front of his desk, and he sat behind. “I’ve come about my husband.”

  Dr. Collins grinned at Winnie. “Yes, that was good news, his returning, though not for all the young men of our vicinity. I include myself among them.”

  Winnie smiled back at the young doctor’s round face. His thick, light brown hair parted alone one side of his head and combed behind his ears. The earnest light blue eyes sparkled at her from behind round spectacles. His hands, square with tapered fingers, Winnie thought quite beautiful for a man’s hands. They were always clean and the nails trimmed and rounded. “It was good news. Too many didn’t return.”

  “Don’t waste time, Winnie. I fear Mistress Hoskins will appear at any moment.”

  Winnie’s face became serious. “Yes. Well, you see, it is this. Sometimes he wakens during the night, though he doesn’t seem quite right. His eyes are open, he wanders about the house, but, if I speak to him, he doesn’t answer. He seems bent on a quest. And in the morning, he doesn’t remember being awake.”

  “Hmm.” Dr. Collins leaned back in his comfortable leather chair and mused, crossing his mouth with a finger. He took it away and leaned forward. “I have heard of something like it.” He lifted his arm and tapped the same place on his mouth with the lovely finger. “He isn’t violent, is he?” A look of slight alarm entered the good doctor’s eyes.

  “No. No, he seems quite docile.” Winnie hoped she appeared bland and prayed that Dr. Collins wouldn’t ask too many questions. She couldn’t, just couldn’t explain to him what happened between them, or between Lance and Isabelle. The doctor nodded. “He returns to his bed, goes to sleep, and then the next morning it’s as if nothing happened.”

  “Ah!” Hoskins came into the room with a tray and cups of seaming tea, and suddenly Winnie was thirsty. “I say, Mistress Hoskins, I am hungry of a sudden. Have we any of that sweet biscuit left?” He turned to Winnie. “Anything for you, Winnie?”

  Winnie looked to the woman, looking sheepish. “May I change my mind about tea? I wouldn’t mind a bit of cream. It’s too hot otherwise. And perhaps a teaspoon of sugar, if it’s not too much trouble?”

  Hoskins sniffed, clutched her hands together and left the room with the tray. “That should give us enough time to finish.” The doctor smiled benignly. “Now, Winnie, I think your husband is a little troubled, from the war and all. It sounds as if he’s sleepwalking.”

  Winnie’s eyes stretched. “Sleepwalking! I never heard of such a thing.”

  “Yes, I read of a couple of cases during training, but I myself have never witnessed it. And thus, I’m no expert on it.” He chuckled. “I’m more adept with animals than men apparently. I’m called on as often to doctor cows and sheep as the human specimen.”

  A wide-eyed Winnie gaped at the doctor. “But, then, what shall I do? Should I waken him?”

  “No, no. I wouldn’t do anything to startle him. It might upset or confuse him. Just let him do whatever it is that he does, perhaps then you might gently guide him back to bed.”

  “There are no nostrums or elixirs to help?”

  “No.” He shook his head adamantly. “And I certainly wouldn’t administer laudanum, if you’ve considered that. It might make him slow and clumsy, and he might hurt himself in his drive to accomplish whatever it is he sets out to do.”

  “I see.” Mistress Hoskins brought back into the room the tray and two saucers, each with two sweet biscuits, and there was a small pitcher of cream and a little bowl of sugar chunks. Winnie picked up a spoon from the tray, poured cream, then added a lump of sugar and began to stir. “Thank you, Mistress Hoskins.”

  “I suspect he’ll grow out of it when he’s been home a longer time and settles into a regular schedule. Sometimes all it takes is time, and then we doctors are just bystanders.” He looked at his housekeeper. “That’ll be all, Mistress Hoskins.” The woman, all dressed in black save a relieving row of lace at the top of her high-necked dress and the cuffs of her sleeves, raised her head and gave Winnie a disapproving look before leaving.

  “She doesn’t like me.”

  “Though she’s a good cook and housekeeper, Winnie. She doesn’t like the idea of sharing the house with another woman.”

  “But, I…”

  “Yes, I know Winnie. We’re friends, nothing more. And there’s the pity. You would have made a splendid mistress of this house, but it wasn’t in the cards,” he said cheerfully. “There was nothing ever serious between you and me, but women are quiet territorial if you haven’t already discovered the fact, the prime example being Hoskins. Now, if I don’t want to wind
up an old, shriveled bachelor, I shall have to look elsewhere.” He shook his head and stood. “The pickings in the town are somewhat limited.” He walked Winnie to the small entry as Hoskins came from somewhere and followed.

  Winnie held out her hand and pressed a shilling into his. “I trust this will do, Doctor,” she said formally as the shrew Mistress Hoskins watched.

  “It will, and nicely, Milady.” He smiled at her. “I trust I will be seeing you at some of the upcoming fetes for the season. We’ve missed you at church.”

  “It has been very busy at home this time of year, as you know.” She returned the smile and was let out the door already held open by Hoskins.

  Winnie stumbled in the doctor’s lane. The doctor had called her ‘milady.’ A mistake, but nice, nonetheless. She walked down to where her carriage was waiting and climbed aboard. In their town of Woodhaven, Isabelle wasn’t waiting, but Winnie hadn’t spent much time at the doctor’s, and visiting with one’s family might take longer than Isabelle expected. Winnie would wait outside, perhaps walk through the town streets to see how the place flourished, or if it did. She thought of Isabelle. How nice to have family close by, family that welcomed and enjoyed your company. Winnie sighed. Despite the preference for Miranda, she missed everyone in her own family. She’d neglected to write often, and now she needed to do that, if only to let them know her husband had come home from the war. Her husband. He wasn’t a real husband, and it wasn’t a real marriage. And when the weather warmed, after the holidays, they would part. Winnie was torn. Thought she didn’t love Lance, she certainly didn’t hate him the way she once did. She lived a good life at Greenwood and would miss it on leaving now she’d committed herself to doing just that.

  After wandering the quiet streets, nodding to an acquaintance now and then, Winnie was back in front of the dressmaker’s, and Isabelle still wasn’t there. Winnie shivered. The sun was hiding behind an overhang of clouds and the wind had picked up speed. She ought to have worn something warmer than the shawl. In front of the store as Winnie watched, a carriage stopped, and two women descended. Winnie was struck by the handsome girl about her own age, perhaps a year or two older, dressed in the latest fashionable manner. Black hair curled around the temples of the new girl, and her sloe eyes, nearly black, darted over Winnie and past her. Winnie was as tall as she but somehow that quick, dismissive look made her shrink in stature. Accompanying the young woman was a maid, apparently, who was dressed in black with a white apron and mobcap, a starched collar above the dark dress and cuffs at the ends of her sleeves. Winnie shivered again as the woman swept past her, up the two steps and into the shop.