Sarah Mallory - To Catch a Husband...

He glanced down at that moment and she found herself staring into those dark eyes, unable to look away. For one alarming moment she thought he had read her mind and that he would actually kiss her. She was in his arms and completely at his mercy. Her heart raced. A moment’s heady excitement was followed quickly by panic. To cover her confusion she said crossly, ‘Pray do not hold me so tightly. You are crushing my dress.’

He chuckled.

His amusement only served to increase her discomfiture. She said angrily, ‘I vow I cannot breathe! Loosen your hold, you oaf!’

The black brows snapped together and a dangerous gleam flared in his eyes. He released his grip on her legs and she gave a little cry as her feet touched the sodden ground.

‘Ee, lass, seems I lost my grip on thee.’ Her tormentor still had an arm around her shoulders, hugging her to him. She managed to free one hand and brought it up to his grinning face with a slap.

‘How dare you do that to a lady?’

He looked down at her, his eyes narrowing. Then, very deliberately, he let her go. She gave a shriek, her arms tightening around his neck as she tried to lift her feet from the mud. Calmly he reached up and pulled her hands away and she was obliged to stand, the cold muddy water oozing around her ankles and into her boots.

‘If that wants trettin’ like a lady,’ he growled, ‘then that mun act like one.’

And with that he turned and walked to the carriage.

Kitty lifted her sodden skirts and pulled one foot clear of the sticky, cloying mud. With slow, unsteady steps she made her way to the road, biting her lip in rage and mortification. She had been very rude, to be sure, but how dare he drop her in the water? She looked down at her feet. Her new boots were ruined and instead of a jaunty yellow decoration around the hem of her walking dress, the bottom six inches of her skirts glistened with slick brown mud.

When Kitty reached the road she was too upset to speak and after scraping the worst of the mud from her boots and stockings she climbed silently into the carriage, biting her lip while Mrs Midgley clucked and fidgeted around her like a mother hen.

Daniel looked down at his legs. His topboots were almost completely covered in mud and it had splashed up over his buckskins. He walked to the edge of the ford to wash the worst of the dirt away before climbing back into the carriage. Mr Midgley gave the word and they set off again. The atmosphere inside the carriage was distinctly uncomfortable. Daniel looked at the young woman huddled in the corner: she was staring out of the window, her jaw set hard. He saw her blink rapidly and guessed that she was trying not to cry.

‘I beg your pardon,’ he said quietly. ‘Miss Wythenshawe, I—’

‘Now, now, my boy, you did your best,’ put in Mr Midgley. ‘I did not see quite what happened, as I was helping my wife into the coach, but I am sure it could not be helped. We must be thankful that one of our ladies at least was carried safely across the mud. I have no doubt Miss Wythenshawe is most grateful for your efforts, isn’t that so, my dear?’

Daniel saw the little chin tremble. Miss Wythenshawe averted her face but he could not mistake the bitterness in her voice when she replied.

‘Mr Blackwood’s efforts will not be forgotten.’

‘There, now, all’s well, you see.’ Mr Midgley beamed around the carriage. ‘Once the mud has dried, we can clean it off and your boots and your gown will be as good as new!’

Daniel sat back, closing his lips against further comment. Mrs Midgley did not look convinced by her husband’s cheerful assurances and as for Miss Wythenshawe, she kept her gaze fixed firmly upon the passing landscape. He leaned forwards, his hand going out to her.

‘Perhaps you will allow me to—’

‘Pray do not touch me!’ she said icily. ‘I think you have done quite enough damage today!’

Daniel drew back immediately. He had been about to offer to pay for a new gown, but it was quite clear the young woman wanted nothing further to do with him. Stifling a sigh of exasperation, Daniel turned to stare out of the window beside him, praying that his nightmare journey would soon be over.

The carriage slowed to negotiate a winding village street and Daniel sat up, relieved to recognise the familiar buildings.

‘Hestonroyd.’ He turned to Mr Midgley. ‘This will do for me, sir, if you would direct your driver to stop.’

Mr Midgley pulled the check-string and Daniel jumped down. He bowed and offered his thanks to Mr and Mrs Midgley but when he touched his hat to Miss Wythenshawe she merely hunched her shoulder and looked away. With a shrug he waited until the carriage had moved off then walked briskly along the street until he arrived at the gates to the Holme, an imposing new house set back from the road. As he strode up the drive, the front door flew open and a young lady ran out.

‘Daniel, at last!’

He caught her up in his arms, swinging her around and laughing.

‘Have you been looking out for me, Bella?’

He set her back on her feet.

‘Since daybreak. But what have you been doing, brother dearest? You are covered in mud.’

He grinned.

‘That is a very long story. Let us go indoors. I need to clean myself up.’

‘You must be quick, then, for Mama is waiting in the drawing room for you. Papa is at the mill, but he said we were to send word as soon as you arrived.’ She twinkled up at him. ‘He would not say so, of course, but he has missed you, and was mightily disappointed when you did not come home last night.’

Daniel put his arm around her shoulders.

‘Well, you can send him a message now to tell him I am safe, and inform Mama that I will be with her as soon as I am presentable!’

The clock in the hall had chimed two more quarters before Daniel finally made his way downstairs to the drawing room. It was a large well-proportioned chamber, comfortably furnished, everything of the finest quality, and it had a quiet elegance that Daniel found very restful. His mother was seated at her new writing desk, her dark hair neatly confined beneath a lace cap.

‘Well, Mama, I am home at last.’

She looked up, a smile lighting her face.

‘Daniel, my love.’ She rose to greet him, hugging him tightly. She would never admit it but he suspected she had spent a restless night worrying over his safety. He held her away from him.

‘You are looking very well, Mama, and that is a very fetching coat. Is it new?’

‘It is a pet-en-l’air,’ she told him, smoothing her hands over the grey velvet of the loose jacket she wore over her morning gown. ‘They are not so fashionable now, I’m afraid, but just the thing for these chill spring days.’ She gestured to him to sit down with her. ‘Bella tells me you have had an eventful journey.’

‘Yes, Marnie is lame; we took a fall coming back from Barrowford. No, no, I suffered no injury,’ he added quickly when he saw the alarm in her face. ‘I was obliged to leave Marnie in Halifax but was fortunate to meet Mr Midgley and his lady on their way to London and they took me up. They send their regards, Mama, but would not stop.’

‘That was very kind of them, but are you sure you are not hurt? No doubt you were cutting across the moors again. I wish you had kept to the roads, my son.’

‘I wish I had done so, this time,’ Daniel responded with a rueful grin. ‘You will say I was well served, Mama, for I had to spend the night sleeping on the heather.’

‘He was covered in mud,’ added Bella, following him into the room. ‘Up to his knees!’

‘Not from my sojourn on the moor,’ Daniel was quick to reassure his mother. ‘The stream was in full spate across the ford and Midgley deemed it safer for us to walk across the bridge.’

‘Heavens, if it was that muddy what did poor Mrs Midgley do?’ asked Bella, eyeing the scalloped hem of her own gown.

‘I carried her, since her husband could not.’

‘Oh, famous!’ Mrs Blackwood clapped her hands, laughing. ‘A veritable hero! I have no doubt the lady was very pleased to have you with them.’

‘She was, perhaps,’ remarked Daniel, his brow darkening, ‘but not her companion. Too high in the step for me. A right top-lofty piece …’

‘Daniel!’

‘I beg your pardon, Mama, but you know how I dislike it when people put on airs that don’t become them! And this young miss, hah! Far too high and mighty she was! She took one look at me and wrote me off as a mere nothing.’

‘I have no doubt she mistook you for a common labourer if she saw you in all your dirt,’ remarked Bella sagely. ‘I am sure she soon realised her mistake when she knew who you were.’

‘Nay,’ drawled Daniel, ‘I weren’t about to put ‘er right.’

Mrs Blackwood frowned at his sudden lapse.

‘My dear, I trust you were not uncouth.’

Daniel hesitated, thinking back over the events of the morning. He had behaved very badly by Miss Wythenshawe, he knew that, but it was too late to do anything about it now. He gave his mother an apologetic smile.

‘Alas, Mama, I fear I was very uncouth.’

A deep, amused voice was heard from the doorway.

‘What is this? Is my son up to his tricks?’

‘Papa!’ With a shriek Bella flew across the room and flung herself into the arms of the gentleman who had just entered.

‘Father.’ Daniel rose. ‘I beg your pardon, I sent a message to assure you I was safe. I did not mean you to leave the mill early—’

His father smiled across the room at him.

‘It was no hardship. ‘Tis a poor manager I would be if my manufactories could not function without my presence! But what has been occurring, my son, to bring that black scowl to your face?’

‘A minor irritation, sir, too trivial to bore you with.’

‘Good manners are never trivial, my son,’ put in Mrs Blackwood, a troubled look in her eyes. ‘I had hoped your education had taught you how to mix with your fellow man, from humble labourer to the highest in the land. But I know that temper of yours: you will act rashly if your will is crossed.’

‘Oh?’ Mr Samuel Blackwood raised his dark brows at his son. ‘And who has had the temerity to cross you, my boy?’

‘A young lady,’ put in Bella before Daniel could reply. ‘She saw Dan in all his dirt and mistook him for a rough, coarse fellow.’

‘And is my son so lax in his manners that he is judged solely upon appearance?’ asked Mr Blackwood gently.

A dull flush mantled Dan’s cheek.

‘Not generally, sir, I assure you.’

‘I am very glad to hear it,’ returned his father, smiling a little. ‘Because your manners are going to be sorely tested, I fear.’

Daniel looked up.

‘Sir?’

‘Yes, my son, I have some matters of business for you to attend to.’ Mr Blackwood reached into his pocket and took out his snuff box. ‘I am sending you to London!’

Dearest Mama. You will know from my previous correspondence that I think Lady Leaconham the kindest, most generous godmother in the world! She delights in showering gifts upon me and will not hear of my spending the money you gave me upon anything other than little luxuries for myself—pin money, she calls it—and every time I remonstrate with her she merely laughs and says what else is she to spend her money upon, if it is not her goddaughter?

Kitty put down her pen. She had been in Portman Square for four weeks now, and already Lady Leaconham had spent more money upon her than Mama and Aunt Jane earned in a year. Letitia Leaconham had been a widow for a long time. Her husband had left her with a comfortable income that allowed her to hire a house in London for several months each year and entertain her acquaintances in lavish style. She had one son, Garston, but since attaining his majority four years ago he had set up his own bachelor establishment, leaving his mama to yawn over her morning chocolate and bemoan the fact that she had no daughter to comfort her in her twilight years. She was therefore delighted to welcome her goddaughter into her house and even more delighted when she discovered Kitty to be an attractive young lady with very pretty manners. She began immediately to make plans to introduce her goddaughter to her friends, and wrote to Mrs Wythenshawe to assure her that, despite Kitty’s complete lack of fortune, she had no doubt she would be able to secure for her a very advantageous marriage.