Page 98 of Holding Onto Love

He drank his tea then poured himself a second cup and dropped in a bit of sugar. Then he leaned back in his chair and smiled, drumming his hands on his knees.

“I’m dying to know how you guessed I had a cottage in Binnings.”

“It wasn’t a guess.”

His eyebrows flickered. He whispered, “Who are your sources?”

She laughed. She poured another cup for herself. And told him everything he had missed.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Be prepared. How was one to prepare for something like this?

Vanessa decided to confess to Charlotte and Lydia that the caller who had come to pay respects and reminisce about Henry had, in fact, been Lieutenant Taverston. He gave a false name to Charlotte so that Lydia and the corporal would not draw false conclusions but when she’d told him that they already had, he merely laughed.

She told them all, too, that she was going back to Binnings to parade her boots around and wander the shops. Now that she had seen it, it seemed a safe enough place that she didn’t feel the necessity of dragging Mary and Myrtle along.

Once she swept up the mess Crispin’s visit might have created, she concentrated on the next steps.

She decided what to wear: her two best dresses—one from the dress shop in Binnings and one from London. Neither was particularly fine. She removed the cuffs and collars from the old dress and added new lace. She didn’t want Jasper thinking she was living in poverty, but not extravagantly either. She would pack only a single valise that she could carry by herself to Paxton Downs. It seemed pragmatic and commonsensical once she made up her mind, but she was embarrassed to admit how much time she’d spent on the decision—even whether to bring two dresses or three.

She spent the next few days cleaning, tending her garden, and choosing a bracelet to sell in Binnings so that she would not have to bother Will when the time came.

Friday was slow to arrive. Then she rose early, walked to Paxton Downs, and waited at a tea shop for Crispin’s hired carriage.

She encountered no difficulties en route to Binnings. After a few hours, she found herself peering out the window as the carriage entered a long, winding drive. The first several hundred feet were overgrown with brambles but then the way cleared. The road was rutted and lined on either side by trees that had been recently cut back and wildflowers doing their best to flourish.

The carriage pulled up to a two-story stone cottage with large windows and an impressive double-doored front entrance. The roof was newly thatched. The windows appeared clean though the glass was yellowed. The lawn was weedy. And one large tree at the side of the house was dying or dead and should really have been removed.

The carriage halted and a groom opened the door and let down the step so she could descend. He grabbed her valise from the roof and carried it up the walk, then set it at the door. Some of the bricks in the walkway were cracked and grass grew through the crevices.

It was not difficult to see the charm of the place beneath its disrepair, but the time and effort that would be required to bring it back must be discouraging.

She put a coin in the groom’s hand. “Thank you. Good day.”

He gave the house a skeptical look, then nodded and headed back to the carriage.

How very curious this all made her. She had so many questions. Questions to which she would never know the answers. Why had this house been sold and then repurchased? Why purchased for Crispin’s inheritance if it had been a family retreat? Did it break his heart to see it like this? Or did he see it as a burden he would happily transfer to Reginald?

She reached for the door knocker. A simple black iron ring. The door needed a new coat of paint.

“Vanessa! Good. You’re here. I heard the carriage.”

Crispin emerged from around the side of the house. But for his voice, she might not have recognized him. He wore loose trousers tucked into dirty boots and a smock rather than a shirt. No jacket. No neckcloth. No gloves. His hair had the tumbled wild appearance men strove for with layers of pomade and a skilled valet, but she was certain his was merely unwashed and badly combed. The smock was smeared with mud and his trouser legs showed blotchy green stains.

He came up to her and bowed. Then he grinned, gesturing to himself. “Sorry. We were clearing things out a bit down by the lake. I intended to change clothes before you arrived, but mistimed.”

“We? Are you working with the gardeners?”

“Don’t tell Jasper.” Crispin put his hand to the door and opened it. “He’ll write a draft for some ungodly sum and tell me to hire more people.”

Yes. Jasper would.

Crispin looked…happy and had a healthy glow that he had certainly not possessed a few days before.

They stepped into a cool, dark entryway and a woman skuttled around the corner.

“Captain! Oh! The lady is here?” She shook her head, tut-tutting. The woman was plump and gray haired and red cheeked and looked very, very peeved. “You were supposed to—”