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“My Lady, it is true that we have not been introduced – I pray that you forgive me for stepping outside the bounds of propriety, but I could not help but notice what a picture you make, wandering around my meadow.”
Her expression had modified to a defiant one. With lifted chin she held her ground and retorted.
“I do not see, sir, what my appearance has to do with the matter. Nor that it gives you leave to address me, even if you do own this meadow. It has no signs against trespass, and surely picking flowers is no offense.”
Very nearly releasing the laugh which tickled his throat, Daniel looked her up and down for a long moment. He was rewarded with a slow blush creeping up her neck. Then he sighed, allowing himself a broad smile.
“In truth, I was sorely tried by the need to come up with an acceptable way to make an introduction, with us out here alone. Will you allow me to explain myself?” Stepping a little closer, he gauged the reaction and was satisfied to see no fear. He was not generally perceived by women to be a threat, even to their virtue – unlike his deplorable brother. As she did not either leave or respond, the usually unflappable Daniel cleared his throat and gave her another small smile and slight bow. “I am Daniel Trowbridge, and we are standing on my family’s lands. This is my own particular favourite meadow, for the tree there and the view yonder.”
He did not give his title, for he suspected that, if he did, she might either suddenly transform into a simpering annoyance, or she might be scared off by his ‘importance’. What he wanted, in that moment, was simply an honest conversation with this delightful woman, uncoloured by societal expectations and the rules of status.
As her eyes travelled beyond him, he knew that she could only see the horse and the rise of the hill.
“Would you care to walk with me for a moment? I would very much like to show you the view. I promise to keep three feet between us at all times, so that propriety is served.”
The twinkle in his eyes must have won her over, as she smiled herself and picked up her skirt to walk next to him, a good three feet away.
“Verily Sir, I need not quake with those terms. Be aware, however, that I carry a stone in my reticule should you need reminders. I am Mrs Verity Millwood, recently widowed. I may tell you more and I may not – I have not yet decided.”
So began a fascination which would alter Daniel’s plans, complicating his life and leading him down an entirely different path from the ones which either he or his father had envisioned.
They sat on the ancient wooden bench at the crown of the hill, looking over the lands of Summerfield Park. Surprised to find that he could converse with a woman comfortably, let alone enjoy it, Daniel was a bit dazed. He found her articulate, interesting, and not at all simpering. While he attempted to shield his true title, he allowed her to think that he was a lesser relative of the Duke of Summerfield, charged with managing the properties.
“Even that would be lovely position to have, Sir. Have you thought how the landless must envy you?”
“Why Mrs. Millwood, are you then a landless widow yourself?” He could scarcely believe it, and was more than usually tactless he realised, even as he said the words. To his horror, with her eyes on her hands in her lap, the lovely lady began silently to weep. “Please forgive me, I didn’t mean to make you sad. I am so sorry for your loss. You did introduce yourself to me as widowed, and I suppose that I assumed it to be not so recent – which from your tears, I deduce that it was. Would you like me to leave you now?”
Flustered and angry with himself for renewing her pain, Daniel was at a loss for any consoling words. Taking a handkerchief from her reticule, the lovely widow pressed it to eyes which were now slightly red. Just as he was about to speak again, to take his leave of her, she reached out and lightly touched his arm, staying his movement.
*****
“I apologise, sir. A gentlewoman should never reveal her emotions. I do hope that you will forgive me. But let me explain my situation a little more. My husband died in the war, not a full month before Christmas. My grief is still somewhat raw. I was on the way to my husband’s family home and a messenger, by chance, found me here, when I stopped at the Inn. I received word that I would not be welcome at my intended destination. I have not yet decided on another option, although I must do so soon. I resigned from the position of governess for Lady Chittendom before I left Devon. She will not want me back again, as I’m sure she has engaged another for the position. I’m afraid I haven’t been able to take it all in.”
Verity regarded the gentleman beside her, wondering, even as she spoke, why she felt comfortable enough with this stranger to tell him so much of her story. Why, indeed, she felt safe with him, alone out here.
He was well mannered, even if he had been a little abrupt and awkward to start with, and he was good to look upon, yet seemed to lack the arrogance which so many men had, in their attitude to life. He was attractive, and exactly the kind of man she could envision a happy life with – but that was a foolish thought indeed! He gazed at her, his face taking on an expression of worry.
“But where are you staying then - surely you are not completely without support!”
He seemed genuinely concerned and she found courage in that, but wanted no pity. As a result, her next words came out perhaps more firmly than she had originally intended.
“No sir, I am not without support, but I am seemingly not required by those who I thought would take me in. My small resources do include an angry father, who might not accept me should I choose to return to his household. This would not be my first choice. I have been biding my time for eightweeks now, in Bellbrook. A kind woman behind the Bellbrook Arms has taken me in while I make up my mind about what to do. You may know her — Mrs. Maggie Carter?”
“Old Maggie Carter? Amazing woman, she was head housekeeper for, er, an acquaintance of mine until her joint-ail pained her too badly. Always a kindly soul. Well, at least I know that you are safely housed and looked after.” The gentleman smiled more broadly and shook his head at the coincidence. “And have you been with our Maggie all eight weeks then?”
*****
Daniel could not believe how long he had missed out on the company of this engaging person. Imagine meeting a charming and educated woman without going to a Ball. His father would have been furious, would have told him that no woman he met wandering a meadow alone could possibly be respectable, but Daniel no longer had to live on his father’s agenda.
A small pang of grief for his father ran through him, an echo of the grief he had seen in the woman beside him, whose mourning year ran so close a parallel in time to his own. And at that moment, an idea crystallised within his mind, whole and complete.
The woman before him was the solution to his problems – perhaps not entirely in line with his father’s wishes, but surely, just the fact that he was willing to marry at all, and had found a suitable woman before the time at which this year’s London Season ended, was enough to honour what his father had wanted? He was convinced that he need look no further. Here was a woman he could talk to, a woman obviously of gentle birth. Here was a woman whom he could willingly contemplate marrying. She had been married before, but was unencumbered now. And her mourning time aligned with his, almost exactly. Which would give him near nine months to court her, so that they could both be sure, before that mourning ended, and marrying would be seen as acceptable by society.
She was surely a gentlewoman, more than a governess perhaps, by her bearing and manner. That she was not rich mattered not. Her mourning garments were modest and unembellished, and suited her well.
He must have been staring, as he contemplated all of this, for suddenly she spoke, not exactly in answer to his question.
“Mr. Trowbridge? I presume that you have seen a woman in mourning before. I will answer your question if you will look upon the landscape, rather than gazing so intently at me.”
