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It was Lavinia who intrigued him most. She was the central figure in their charade, and it was more than obvious the other three were dependent upon her.
Who was Lavinia Fernley, the ravishing young woman traveling incognito from London to Lincolnshire? How could her countenance blend a look of innocence with one of such world-weariness? Where was the family that should have taken her in after her father had died?
He would find the answers, he resolved as he walked to the stable. He would see Lavinia and her friends to their new home, and during that time, he would put the remaining pieces of the puzzle together.
* * *
The roads were still muddy when the coach came round to collect Lucas’s four traveling companions, but the clouds had cleared, leaving a blue sky that promised sunshine. Lucas opted to journey on horseback; the roads would be much better by midday.
If the weather continued thus, they should make it to Stamford by the end of the day, and if Lucas was fantastically lucky, he would find his trunks still at the inn there, still waiting to be fetched by one of his father’s servants. He would be able to retrieve one of his smaller trunks and have additional clothes for the continued journey northward to Sleaford and then on to Primrose Farm. He would also be able to leave a note at Stamford for his family, explaining his unexpected detour and its resulting delay in his arrival at Alderwood.
He gave Hector free rein to pick his way along the road. Hector was a good lad and had been with him in Spain. The one thing Lucas had insisted upon for himself when he and Anthony had returned from the Peninsula was that Hector return with them. He and Hector had ridden through a great deal of muddy terrain together the past few years—muddy terrain, scorching heat, freezing cold. For the first couple years Lucas had been in Spain, he’d marched. As a lowly enlisted man in the infantry, he’d not had the luxury of a horse as the officers and cavalry did.
What a fool of a boy Lucas had been back then, to have impulsively enlisted in the army at the callow age of nineteen—and over a female, to boot.
And yet, it was this very female who, even now, created a pit in Lucas’s stomach and whose presence at Alderwood was causing him to delay his return there.Ah, Isobel, he thought. He had faced the French with more readiness than he could muster for Alderwood at present.
Their travel northward went smoothly and was uneventful, which was a relief after the storm and broken carriage wheel the day before. They were able to make it to Stamford by early evening, and on Lucas’s suggestion, they took rooms at the George, the owners having provided accommodations to the Viscount Thurlby and his family on many occasions over the years.
“So good to see you back from the Peninsula safe and sound, Mr. Jennings!” Tom, the robust innkeeper, said upon their arrival. “And, of course, only the bestrooms will do,” he added, motioning to his servants.
As blessed fortune would have it, his trunks had arrived on the mail coach shortly after their own arrival in town. “I’ll be taking the small trunk with me, Tom,” he said to the innkeeper. “Can you arrange for the others to be taken to Alderwood? I’ll also be writing a letter to include with them.”
“I’ll see it done, Mr. Jennings.”
“Thank you.”
Lucas took his small trunk to his room. Luckily, he wouldn’t have to share his room with Mr. Drake tonight, as Tom had provided their lodgings for the evening at a nominal rate. It was always good to do agreeable business with the local aristocratic families, Tom had assured him. Lucas hadn’t felt inclined to argue the point. He was looking forward to sleeping in an actual bed tonight.
He removed a sheet of foolscap from the writing desk in his room and picked up the quill, dipping it in the ink bottle while he pondered his words.
Dear Mama, he began, for, of course, if he addressed the letter to his father, his mother would be at his heels, shaking her finger at him for not writing to her. His father, on the other hand, would merely expect his arrival to occur when he arrived—and would presume Lucas had a reasonable explanation for arriving whenever he did. So, “Dear Mama” it was.
I look forward to seeing you and Father soon, as well as the rest of the family. Would that it were today, my dear! However, my services have been required elsewhere for a few more days.
All my love and regard,
Your son,
Lucas
As letters went, it was a pathetic specimen. Perhaps he should have explained his reason for delaying a bit more or made mention of each family member rather than refer to them collectively. But then he would have had to list Isobel, and that he would not do. The less he thought about her, the better.
A knock at the door heralded the arrival of his supper. He thanked the serving girl, who bobbed a curtsy before leaving.
Actually, the less he thought about his siblings altogether, the better off he’d be, he thought as he dug into the steaming pork pie on his plate. It would only serve to remind Lucas of his own lack of fortune and vocation. He loved his siblings and truly wanted to see them again; he didn’t begrudge any of them their accomplishments and happy lives.
If only he could arrive at Alderwood with a sense of accomplishment himself.
