The Last of Lady Lansdown (36 page)

“Well, do sit down and tell me.”

“Sir Archibald came to see me. You would never guess who came with him.”

“Tell me.”

“It was Ludlow Elton, the new Earl of Lansdown. He wanted to express his gratitude that I saved the Lansdown jewels. Can you imagine? The earl himself came to my cousin’s cottage. He was ever so kind, and I must say, downright humble when he said he was aware I didn’t have to give the jewels back, that I easily could have kept them for myself with no one the wiser.”

“I’m glad, Meg. I know we did the right thing.”

“I haven’t got to the best part. Listen to this, m’lady. He gave me a reward of five hundred pounds! Think of it!” Meg beamed with happiness. “I keep wanting to pinch myself. I was so worried, but now, thanks to his lordship, we shall have plenty of money for food and clothing, and we can buy another farm.”

Words failed her. Jane threw her arms around her former servant and gave her a hug. “You have no idea how relieved I am. Now I can go to America without a care in the world.” Well, almost. She remembered Douglas.

“What about Beauty?” Meg asked.

“I must leave her behind.” Jane felt an acute sense of loss, thinking she was about to lose her beautiful horse. “When I booked passage on the
Columbia
, the captain refused to take Beauty. The ship is too small, you see ...” Her voice broke and she could not go on.

“Oh, madam, I am so sorry.”

“I keep telling myself she’ll be in good hands. With Timothy around, she’ll always receive the best of care and, hopefully, when I arrive in America, I shall buy a new horse.” She smiled. “I will never find another Beauty, but they do have horses over there.”

When the visit was over, Meg departed with a grin on her face. “Thank you for all your help, Lady Lansdown.”

“No, don’t call me that anymore.” Jane shook her head decisively. “I most definitely will not bring my title to America. As of today, you have seen the last of Lady Lansdown.”

Dressed in her new brown wool redingote with matching hat and muff, Jane caught a sniff of salty sea air as she and Bruta stepped from Lord Rennie’s coach onto the dock at Liverpool. With eager eyes, she took in the sights of one of the busiest ports in England: docks teeming with activity, a forest of masts stretching as far as the eye could see. Directly ahead, workers were loading the
Columbia
, a small ship of two hundred eighty-two tons, which would carry her from Liverpool to New York. The sight of the graceful ship caused excitement to course through her veins, tinged with an indelible sadness. She was leaving England forever. Only yesterday she had bid Granny and Millicent a tearful goodbye, given Beauty her last carrot and kiss on her nose. She missed them already. When, if ever, would she see them again? How hard this was—uprooting her whole life, leaving family behind, plus every friend she ever had, perhaps forever.
And Douglas
. She felt a wretched sense of loss whenever she thought of him, which was most of the time. He had never answered her letter.

A crazy thought popped into her head. Perhaps he was here! Her pulse quickened in anticipation. Perhaps he
had
received her letter. Perhaps Rennie had told him the name of the ship and he had hastened to Liverpool to meet her. Eagerly, her gaze swept the docks. Nothing.
You fool
. Her luck could never be that good. She might have known.

Soon after the
Columbia
sailed from Liverpool, the pitch and roll of the small ship caused an increasing queasiness in Jane’s stomach. At first she ignored it, but when a wretched wave of nausea struck, she was forced to rush to the railing where, in decidedly unladylike fashion, she lost her breakfast. By this time, she felt so terrible that she did not care for her dignity and could only groan in misery as Bruta helped her below to her cabin. She spent the next five days lying prone on her bed, so sick from constant nausea that she feared at first she would die, later fearing she would not.

What would it matter if she died? She lay in a state of utter misery, picturing how they would sew her poor, ravaged body into a canvas bag and dump it into the sea. Who would care? Certainly not Douglas. He wouldn’t even know she was dead, and wouldn’t care if he did know. Of course, she looked forward to seeing her father again—if, by some remote chance, she happened to survive—but still, she knew in her heart she would mourn her lost love forever and never be truly happy again.

At least she had Bruta. Thank God for Bruta, who suffered not a trace of a queasy stomach and devoted herself to giving her suffering mistress the utmost of tender care. “You must eat,” Bruta admonished. “I shall bring you a bowl of broth.”

“Oh, God, no!” Jane moaned and declared, “If you mention food again, I shall die.”

“You are not going to die, madam.” Bruta laid a cool compress across Jane’s forehead. “You will soon start feeling better.”

“No, I won’t. I shall never be well again.”

Bruta was right. After a few days, the nausea disappeared. Though weak as a kitten, Jane felt well enough to climb to the deck and clutch the railing. She breathed deeply of the fresh salt air, thinking nothing had ever smelled so good. Even so, she could not shake her feeling of sadness. She leaned over the railing to watch a school of dolphins leaping alongside the ship. They appeared to be smiling. She wished she could smile like the dolphins, but how could she? She was haunted by the constant remembrance that Douglas was gone forever. She would never see him again.

Even the thought of seeing her father could not lift her from her doldrums.

One bright morning, after weeks at sea, the
Columbia
sailed into the sparkling waters of New York harbor. Despite the seasickness she’d suffered and her heartache over Douglas, Jane stood on the deck and watched with high anticipation as her ship approached the South Street docks. America at last! She would see her father again. She would get a new start. Someday, perhaps, she would forget Douglas Cartland ever existed.

But not now
, she thought, hating herself for having such dreary thoughts on what was supposed to be a glorious day.

A sparse crowd stood waiting on the dock. Was her father among them? She hoped word had spread quickly that a ship had arrived. She searched for a tall, stoop-shouldered figure with white hair. No, she didn’t see him. Again her gaze skimmed over the crowd, this time catching a glimpse of a man with dark hair, holding the reins of his horse. She could not see his face clearly, but something about him ... the way he was standing—at ease, yet confident and alert. That horse ... it looked like Beauty. In fact, exactly like Beauty.

It cannot be ...

The ship edged close to the dock. Crew members tossed thick ropes ashore, to be tied to the stanchions. Closer now, with disbelieving eyes, Jane looked at the man again.

It was Douglas Cartland, and the horse whose reins he held was Beauty.

Why was he here?
How
did he get here? Jane waited in stunned disbelief and an agony of impatience until the gangplank was lowered and she could leave the ship.

By the time she stepped ashore, Douglas had tethered Beauty at a distance and stood waiting beside the gangplank, amusement twinkling in the depths of his warm brown eyes. “Good morning, Countess. Did you have a pleasant journey?”

“I am stunned.”

Douglas took her arm and led her away from the gangplank where Bruta, burdened with luggage, was about to disembark. He turned to her. “I received your letter and returned to Lancaster Hall the very day you left. Rennie told me what ship you were on.”

“How could you be here ahead of me?” She was still trying to pull her spinning thoughts together.

“It’s not so impossible. I hastened to catch up with you. Rennie suggested I take Beauty along. Somehow we would get her on the ship. I was too late. By the time I reached Liverpool, the
Columbia
had already sailed.”

“Then how—?”

“To my good fortune, I found another ship leaving for New York the very next day. I sailed on the
Belfast
. At four hundred ninety-one tons, she is twice the size of the
Columbia
and nearly twice as fast. Captain Bunker gladly allowed me to bring Beauty along. Thunder, too.”

She managed a casual, “Oh, really? But why would you want to join a spoiled rotten woman like me who’s been catered to hand and foot all her life?”

With a crooked smile, he replied, “I read every word of your letter. You convinced me.” The smile disappeared. Suddenly serious, he cupped her chin tenderly in his warm hand. In a voice shaking with emotion, he continued, “I thought I could put you out of my mind, but I could not. That’s because I love you with all my heart and I want you to be my wife. What I said was wrong. Remain a countess if you like. I don’t care what you’re called as long as I have you by my side.”

Her heart swelled with unprecedented feeling. “You’re sure?”

“Positive. Be aware that I don’t have a fortune, nor is it likely I shall ever have one. I shall do my best, though. We will never be poor. Surely there are canals to be built in America, and I’m the one to build them. So there you have it. Will you marry me?”

“Yes, yes, yes!” She gave him a joyful smile and threw her arms around his neck.

The sound of appreciative shouts, whistles, and foot stomps rose up from the dock workers busy unloading the
Columbia.
The man and woman standing on the dock seemed to be engaged in more than a simple welcome embrace. In fact, the way he was devouring her with kisses left no doubt as to what would happen once the two of them were finally alone.

Epilogue

New York City, 1825

From the day it was built by renowned canal engineer, Douglas Cartland, the two-story Georgian style mansion that overlooked a bend in the East River perfectly suited the needs of the happy, growing family that lived there. Now, on a warm summer’s night, the sounds of a toast rang out from the elegant dining room. Wineglasses were raised. “To you!” came a chorus of voices. “Happy thirty-fifth birthday!”

Mistress Jane Cartland stood to acknowledge the toast in her honor. “This is the best birthday of my life.” She raised her glass and gave a nod to the distinguished, white-haired gentleman who sat to her left. “I raise my glass to you, Papa. I am so proud of your success.” Her father had expanded his business. Five stores already and more to come.

“Here is to my two sweet children.” She held her glass toward three-year-old Georgina, her blonde, cherub-faced daughter who sat next to her grandfather; then to Nicholas, her bright-eyed son who was seven and much resembled his father. They had both been given special permission to stay up late to celebrate their mother’s birthday.

“Millicent and Rennie.” Jane nodded toward her radiant sister and dear Rennie who recently arrived from England on a much-awaited visit. “After ten years, you two still look like newlyweds. Imagine! Six children!”

“We’re not done yet.” Millicent gave a loving glance at her husband.

Jane raised her glass high and looked upward. “A toast to you, Granny. How I wish you could be here, but in a way you are.” Jane would never forget her grandmother’s sage advice which she now was passing on to her own children.

“To my dear husband.” Jane nodded at Douglas, who sat to her right, her heart filling with love and pride. He was still as handsome as ever and over the years had acquired a polished veneer. Not only was he considered an expert in his field, his work on the Erie Canal, as well as others, now earned him a substantial income.

Just then, Bruta entered the dining room. She had not changed a bit. Now the children’s nanny, she firmly announced, “They have stayed up late enough. I am putting them to bed.”

“Of course, Bruta.” It seemed so long ago that Jane wanted to get rid of her brusque, sullen lady’s maid. Now she couldn’t do without her and treasured Bruta’s loyalty and dedication to her work.

When the children were gone, Jane turned again to her husband, but before she could speak, Douglas stood. He held a velvet case in his hand and extended it to Jane. “A little something for your birthday.”

Jane took the case and opened it, wondering what sort of trinket lay inside. When she saw the contents, she gasped. “I cannot believe it!” She reached for the pearl and amber necklace she had always loved and held it up by its gleaming gold chain for all to see. “Douglas, how did you get this? How did you know?”

“Meg Twimby told me how much you loved the necklace.” Douglas placed a warm kiss on her cheek. “So, on my last trip to England, I went to see Ludlow Elton, the Earl of Lansdown, who is not a bad fellow, by the way. After a certain amount of negotiation, he agreed to sell me the necklace. He did make clear he would sell a part of the Lansdown jewels only for you, Jane. ‘You deserved it,’ he said.”

“How can I thank you?” She was quite overwhelmed.

“We will discuss that later, Countess,” he whispered in her ear, then aloud, “Let’s see what it looks like around that lovely throat.” He stood behind her, slipped the necklace around her neck and clasped it. The light touch of his fingers sent little tingles along her spine, reminding her once again what a wise decision she made when she took Granny’s advice and said goodbye forever to her title and all that other folderol.