Military Romance Collection: Contemporary Soldier Alpha Male Romance (130 page)

Ivy stood at the window of her bedchamber and stared out at the bleak morning sky.  She had waited a fortnight before sitting down to pen a letter to her parents, to inform them of her impending removal from Wisteria Castle, and of the allowance she would receive as Esmond’s widow.  She still recalled how her late husband’s nephew, Graham Banbury, had addressed her at the supper table on the third night following his arrival. 

“I have decided to see that you receive a monthly allowance of five hundred guineas,” Banbury had announced, breaking the silence that had followed their initial meeting.  He had not looked up from his plate.  “I believe that should be adequate for my uncle’s childless widow.”

Ivy had lifted her head, her spoon still hovering over her soup bowl.  The reminder of her inability to bear Lord Letham’s heir had remained a tender subject for her, reminding her of her failure in her duties as a wife.  “That is quite generous of you, Mr. Banbury,” she had replied formally.  “I had expected far less.”

“As I said before,” Banbury had continued, “I am not without heart.  However, I must inform you that this allowance shall cease the moment you have found yourself another husband.  I daresay it shall take long, as you are quite comely and in good health.”  He had paused, glanced up at her across the length of the table, and his dark eyes had reflected the dancing flames on the candelabra which stood between them.  “What is your age, again?”

“I shall forgive you the impropriety of that question,” Ivy had said, a bit flustered by the unexpected praise of her beauty.  “But if you must know, I am only twenty.  I am still several years from being considered a spinster, and I shall only be a year older by the time my period of mourning has passed.”

“Twenty is still a good, marriageable age.”Banbury had gazed at her almost thoughtfully for a moment before resuming his attack on his meal.  “Five years younger than myself.”

Another period of quiet had begun to settle over them.  Ivy had found her appetite somewhat diminished.  Five hundred guineas, until she could find another husband…until she had found herself once again in another man’s care….  As much as she had loathed to think about it, she had already begun to accept the fact that she would be expected to marry again and soon, before her youth had waned completely.  She had no doubt her mother would already be watching the market for a new husband.

Ivy had been reluctant to write her parents out of shame, but had offered to give them her full allowance if they would allow her to return.  Her father had written back, telling her that allowance or no, she would be always be welcomed at Sparrowhawk.  Ivy had already decided to express her gratitude by giving the five hundred guineas to her parents for their kindness.  Right now, as miserable as she felt, the thought of returning to the bosom of her childhood home could not be more inviting. 

She turned away from the window and moved to her wardrobe to continue the selection of gowns she would take with her.  A tap at the door made her look up.  One of the servants stepped inside.  “Yes, Mr. Poole?  What is it?”

“Mr. Banbury wishes an audience with you, Your Ladyship,” the older man said.  He hesitated, and then added, “He appeared to be quite cross.”

Ivy frowned at this.  “Cross?  Whatever about?” 

“He did not say, Your Ladyship.”

Sighing heavily, Ivy closed the door to her wardrobe.  “Very well,” she said.  She followed Poole from her chambers.  He escorted her to the study that had once belonged to Lord Letham, where he had conducted his daily business.  There she discovered Banbury seated at the great desk, a number of books and papers spread out across its surface.  Upon seeing Ivy, Banbury pushed back his chair and rose to his full height.

“You may leave us, Mr. Poole,” Banbury said.

“Yes, sir.”  Poole retreated, pulling the door closed in his wake.

Ivy clasped her hands in front of herself and cleared her throat softly.  “Might I inquire as to the reason for this summons, Mr. Banbury?” she asked.

“I have been going over the household inventory,” Banbury said.  He spread his large hands over the books.  “And what I have found comes as a disturbing curiosity.  It would seem that a number of items have managed to become lost – most notably among these are four pieces of silver, two pistols, and a variety of my uncle’s personal adornments.  I have instructed the staff to begin a search of the premises in the event that some of these objects might have been misplaced in error, but thus far they have come up somewhat empty-handed.  Which is why I have called upon you.”  He lifted his eyes, peering up at her through his brows.  “Would you, by chance, know the location of any or all of these missing items?”

“Why would you presume I should have any knowledge?” Ivy asked, only to realize the answer to her question as soon as the words left her lips.  She began to bristle.  “Or am I to interpret this as an accusation of
theft,
to accompany the equally offensive suggestion that I had somehow
seduced
your uncle into marrying me?” 

“There has been no such accusation.”  Banbury’s brows drew together and the muscles in his jaw twitched with the visible effort to keep his own anger in check.  “However, I feel it is only fair to inform you that until my uncle’s property has been fully recovered, you shall remain confined to this house and shall receive no visitors.  I do not think I need to remind you that I could have easily denied you any form of monetary consolation in addition to any belongings you might have wished to take with you.  I must now decline to acquiesce any requests to the removal of a single item until this current matter is resolved.”

“And you say you are not a cruel man...”  Ivy huffed with indignation, her temper rising ever higher.  “From the moment you arrived at Wisteria Castle, you began your insinuations, painting my character in unfavorable light.  You know
nothing
of me.  All you see is a poor young woman of humble beginnings, who married an older man of wealth – in your eyes, as you have made quite clear, to improve her own station in life or at the very least to latch onto his fortune.  As your uncle had met an untimely death before he could father a male child with his young bride, you then presume that she would
take
as many valuables as she could carry before she found herself back on roadside without a single shilling to her name.” 

Ivy could feel her face burning, her words lit by the fires of disgust, but this time she would not hold them back.  “You come here, with this fantastical image in your mind of your uncle – a great saint of a man, so noble – but you did not know
him
, either, dear sir.  You did not
live
with him, as I did.  You did not have to endure days of his dark moods, or his silences which could be just as unbearable.  Do you really think I would
want
anything that would remind me of the
nightmare
he had made my existence, whilst he lived?  How he had denied me the right to a will, telling me that everything I had brought with me into our marriage – family heirlooms and the like – had become
hisproperty
the moment they entered his house?”She gave a fierce shake of her head.  “And
do not
make me speak of every dreaded night when he would climb atop me, particularly those many occasions when he had had too much to drink…”  She broke off, using one trembling hand to swipe away a tear that had plunged down her cheek, and then gestured to her black dress.  “I do not wear these clothes for the husband I lost so much as I do for
my spirit
which he had slain with his brutality!  If you do not believe me, you could ask any one of the servants – particularly Susanna, who often saw the marks your
wondrous
uncle visited upon my flesh.”

She saw the flush in Banbury’s cheeks darken as he stared at her for a moment before looking away.  “While it is not my place to question the actions of the deceased,” he said, “it is my duty to this
estate
to maintain the records of all holdings, including any property attached, and to conduct a thorough investigation when any of said property goes missing.”  He glanced up at her again.  “Which is why I must insist again that you cease your packing, until I may be able to inspect your rooms.”

The insult of his accusation felt like salt rubbed into an open wound.  “Very well,” she said, her voice now a whisper.  “I would
gladly
walk out of here with nothing more than the clothes on my back, if it meant I would also have my freedom.  In fact…I think I shall do just that.”

Turning on her heel, Ivy marched to the door.  She flung it open and walked out, head held high.  She could hear Banbury’s footsteps behind her, and heard him call out to her.  She quickened her pace.  Soon, she found herself running, stumbling down the front steps, gravel crunching under her shoes as she raced out across a field of dew-drenched clover, headed in the direction of Little Amberton.

She never once looked back, nor did anyone follow.

It was dusk when she saw the warm glow of light through the familiar windows of Sparrowhawk.  Exhausted and shivering, her clothing damp, she staggered those last yards to the door and fell upon it. 

“Ivy!”  Her father, still strong despite his years, lifted her up easily in his arms as he did when she had been a little girl.  “Oh, my dear child…what has happened to you?”

Mother appeared behind him.  “What is it, Mr. Hodgson?”

“It’s Ivy,” Father replied. 
“Ivy?” Mother echoed, puzzled.  “Whatever is she doing, here?”

“I do not know,” Father replied in a somber voice.  “But she does not look well.” 

He carried Ivy to the room she had once shared with Lily, and placed her on the bed.  He then left Ivy in the care of her mother and one of the maids.  They removed her clothes, filled a tub with heated water and placed her in it, cleaned her up, and then dressed her in one of Mother’s nightgowns.  They plied her with broth but all she would have was a few small sips before collapsing into her old bed. 

Ivy slept on and off for the next few days, occasionally wracked with a mild fever.  Mother fretted over her.  “You have never been sickly in your life,” she said, as she blotted sweat from Ivy’s flushed face with a cool cloth.  “My dear girl – what happened to put you in this state?”

Given how much she had revealed to Banbury, Ivy could not bring herself to tell her own mother the truth of what had happened.  She would not speak of the accusations, or how she had been treated by her late husband.  “I…had words…with Mr. Banbury, Lord Letham’s nephew,” she admitted at last.  “I do not expect I shall see a single guinea, either, henceforth.”

“Oh, my dearest daughter,” Mother said, and clucked her tongue softly.  “You mustn’t worry.  Everything will sort itself out.”

“Yes, Mama.”  Despite her mother’s reassurances, Ivy remained quiet and withdrawn.  In truth, she found she did not care for the money.  She found herself saddened more at the thought that she would never again look upon Wisteria Castle. 

Maybe that was for the best.

***

A week later, a knock at the front door drew Ivy’s attention from the book she had been reading whilst sitting in a chair close to the hearth.  Mother sat across from her, working on a bit of embroidery, while Father dozed in his chair.  A moment later, one of the servants came into the room and cleared his throat, causing Ivy and Mother to look up. 

“A Mr. Banbury to see Lady Letham.”

While Ivy did not know how long she would keep her title, she became flustered the moment she heard mention of the caller’s name.  She looked to her mother, who put aside her sewing and quickly began to rouse Father from his nap.  “Why should he come to call on me?” Ivy asked, as Mother bustled about, tidying the sitting room for the receiving of unexpected company.

“I do not know, my dear,” Mother replied.  “We must, at the very least, find out.”  She gave her husband another hard nudge and he let out a startled snort.  “Mr. Hodgson!” she scolded.  “If you please, do wake up!  We have a visitor!”

Feeling like a twisted knot of thorny brambles had suddenly settled in her belly, Ivy had no choice but to stand up and face the man who had accused her so harshly not a week before.

Banbury entered the room a few moments later.  He had the audacity to look appealing in his dark grey coat, light trousers, and black boots.  He held a hat in one hand whilst raking his other hand back through his dark curls in what appeared to be a gesture of nervousness.  He bowed in greeting to Father and Mother.  “Mr. Hodgson…Mrs. Hodgson.”  He turned to cast an uncertain look at Ivy.  “If I may, I should like to have a word with Lady Letham in private.”

The last thing Ivy wanted was to be left alone with this insensitive man.  “Anything you have to say to me,” she said, before her parents could reply, “you may say in front of them.”  She glanced up at Banbury.  “Given the nature of our last conversation, I would actually prefer it, and to have their presence rather than to be left alone.”  The unspoken
with you
could be seen in the look of mistrust she sent in his direction.

Banbury stared at her for a moment before huffing out a sigh and looking down.  “Very well,” he said.  “Perhaps it would be best if they hear what I am about to say.”  He took another breath before squaring his shoulders and focusing upon Ivy again.  “I come before you today, humbled, to offer my deepest and most heartfelt apologies.  Shortly after your departure from Wisteria Castle, I resumed my investigation of items missing from the household inventory…only to discover one of them hidden amongst the personal effects of one of the servants, a young man named Henry.”

Ivy reacted with surprise at this news.  From what she had been told, Henry’s parents had been killed in a fire.  When no other family came forward to claim him, Esmond had decided to take the lad on to work in the stables. Henry would also attend Esmond on his hunts, and had been one of the people with him on that fateful day.  Ivy had witnessed her late husband’s regard to the young man as the kind of affection a father would bestow upon a son.  That Henry would steal from the man who had once given him a home, as well as fed and clothed him, came as quite a shock.  “What will become of him?” she wanted to know.  “Will he be punished?”

“Actually, I chose to show mercy on the agreement that he return everything, and summarily dismissed him without references.”  Banbury’s voice softened as he looked into Ivy’s eyes.  “I am so very sorry for the things I said to you, to accuse you in so many words.  This has been very difficult for me, as well, inheriting this position and all that it entails.  I know it is a shallow excuse but all the same, I hope you will forgive me, and that you will return to the estate and take that which is yours.  Will or no will, I have no intention of withholding anything you wish to claim, including the gifts you received during your time as Lady of Wisteria Castle.”

As much as she wanted to insist, again, that she wanted nothing to remind her of her unfortunate marriage, Ivy found herself instead focusing on the apology.  She could see straight away that Graham Banbury possessed a great deal of arrogance and pride, much like his mother, and it had been these qualities which gave spark to the tinder of his quick temper when he had made his accusations.  That he would continue to look into the matter of the stolen property and find the true thief said that he had given Ivy the benefit of the doubt.  That he would then come here to admit his error and to beg forgiveness spoke volumes for his character, showing him to be a man of great humility and compassion on a level much higher than his uncle could ever have hoped to achieve.  “I shall consider it,” Ivy said at last, very quietly.  She pulled her wrap closer around her shoulders.  “Not this evening, as it is growing late.  Perhaps tomorrow.”

“Yes, of course,” Banbury said quickly.  He licked his lips, his heavy-lidded eyes flickering, taking in the room again before returning to Ivy.  “I shall send a carriage for you, if you like.”

“That would be quite considerate,” Ivy replied, “and appreciated.” 

“Very well.”  With nothing more to say, Banbury cleared his throat gently and then bowed again.  “I shall take my leave.  Good evening, Lady.” 

Ivy granted him another formal curtsey.  She watched him depart from the room before sinking back down onto the chair.  The whole confrontation had lasted all but a few minutes and had not been unpleasant, but the anxiety which had gripped her at the onset now rushed out of her limbs, leaving her feeling lightheaded and weak.  She stared into the fireplace for a moment and gathered her wits about her.  The thought of returning to Wisteria Castle still made her quake but with Banbury’s apology, she felt her former strength coming back to her.  It would sustain her, she thought, as she completed the task of severing ties from her life as Lady Letham and returned to being just Ivy.

***