Wedgewick Woman

Wedgewick Woman

By Patricia Strefling

Chapter
1

Scotland
1810

“What? Marry her sister? Have you gone daft?”  Sir Leon (Lee) Charles William Carmichael’s shouts reached his valet. “You know well the vexation my wife gave me for four miserable years before she died.  You insult me, Blithers.”

“Sir, I’ve known you from birth, and more so the disgrace you suffered when you were forced to marry Lady Wedgewick; but her sister
does
hold the title to the last tract of Mulhannon land.” 

“I know the Mulhannon lands well and how important they are to us, Blithers” Lee shouted, while slipping his sword in the scabbard, finishing his formal Carmichael dress complete with kilt and plaid.  “But if you’ve any ideas that I wish to marry another Wedgewick woman to attain them, ye’ve run your purpose.”

Making no further comment, the valet helped his master finish dressing, handing him lastly the green and gold plaid that befitted the Clan Carmichael.

“That last small tract of  Mulhannon land and the acquiring of  it will not be without cost. I’ve gained the majority piece through my wife’s most noble family and our matrimonial union and it has brought me naught but trouble.  If I never hear the name Helen Diana Wedgewick again, it would suit me. If we were to gain that land, there’d only be more fighting between the Campbells and the McDougals. We’ve taken into our clan the McDougals and well you know how the Campbells and McDougals fare.  Tis not that I lay blame at the McDougals’ doorpost.  Aye, they’ve lost near half their clan fighting with the Campbells.  Let them live in peace, I say.  We’ve enough to do to keep the Campbells from taking over our own lands.”

“My thoughts entirely.”  Blithers nodded, retrieved the gloves from the low table, and betraying nothing, handed them to his employer with a slight bow. “Miss Wedgewick is of a much kinder persuasion than her elder sister, however.”

“And how would you know that, Blithers?” his words stung the valet into silence.

Blithers’ eyebrows rose the tiniest bit. “Why sir, she assisted Lady Carmichael while she was at Dunbeernton.”

“Here?”

“Yessir.  A most gracious young lady, she was.  Quite a wee lass when she first arrived with Lady Helen…”  He mused.

“I never saw her.” Lee stared at Blithers. 

“Quite possible sir.  She was shy, not forthcoming in the least. Annabel was little more than a child when pressed into her sister’s service by their mother.”

“Another Wedgewick female was beneath my roof?”  Lord Carmichael’s bitter, bellowing laugh echoed through the rock walled room. 

“Most definitely, my Lord.”

“Why have I not seen nor heard from this woman since my wife’s death then?”

“Miss Annabel took up residence at her mother’s cottage to be near Helen when she was in London.”

“No doubt to assist her sister in her grand affairs with the London ton, while I endowed my good wife with the necessary funds to do so?”

“Annabel…Miss Wedgewick is not as you think her to be, Sir.”  Blithers busied himself with folding the Laird’s handkerchief.  “Not at all.”

“Nonetheless,” he dismissed his valet’s comments with a wave, “I’m not in the least compelled to meet her.  No matter what you say her character peculiarities might be.”  He donned his gloves and stalked to the door.

“I’m afraid you may have to, Sir.”  Blithers commented quietly.  “This
is
the fourth big social function since Lady Carmichael’s death.”

“Are you insinuating that my grieving time should be shortened?” Lord Carmichael looked fair affronted; but as always, allowed his valet to speak freely.  He exited the room his valet behind him.

“’Twas not my intention to relay that your grieving time be any less than you require, Sir.  But that you should know Miss Annabel Wedgewick will likely be present at the dance this eve.”

Stomping down the hallway, polished black boots clicking loudly, Lord Carmichael stopped at that last comment, gave his man a look then proceeded.

Truth is Blithers,” he said to his companion, who now fell in behind him, “Ye’re forgetting that I shall never marry, and most surely
not
another Wedgewick woman.”

Blithers, to his honor, said nothing, but smiled, as he disappeared long enough for Laird Carmichael to make his entrance then reappeared to stand ready should his services be required.

He could hear the female sighs and general commotion as Lord Carmichael descended the wide stairway, commanding his guests’ attention in the Carmichael full dress plaid, as befitted a Scot Laird.

Within moments Blithers was standing guard, the look of well-practiced boredom resting comfortably on his elderly face.  But a man, prince or servant, was not without thoughts.  While his attention was fully tuned to his employer, his mind remembered well how he had served the Laird’s own father. The younger Laird was of a kinder persuasion than his father.  Fast approaching his elder years, Blithers was quite glad about this.

Knowing that the young man, barely of an age to be responsible for such a large clan, was raised without benefit of a mother for most of his young life, Blithers knew that the Laird stood to learn much about women.  Blithers’ sigh almost escaped audibly, before he caught himself.

Lord Carmichael’s thoughts were on how many beautiful women he would dance with this evening, knowing he had no intention of marrying nary a one.  Beauty, the vice having captured his heart once, he now eluded with ease.  He would play their game, but never again succumb to the bewitching nature of a woman.

Chapter
2

Laughingly he thought of Blithers’ comment about Lady Carmichael’s sister.  Another Wedgewick female.  And she had been under his nose in the castle?  What creation was Blithers living in, he wondered.  Perhaps his valet was becoming senile.

“Ah, Lady Wuddle.  You’ve become quite lovely.” He bowed elegantly, slowly lifting his green eyes to his first dance partner of the evening.

Her shy looks betrayed her.  Brown eyes dashed about and fluttered as though timid. But he had been quick to learn the subtleties of women and could now reason with much greater practicality and wisdom than he’d formerly possessed.  Her coquettish ways were not in the least genuine and were but a thinly veiled desire to capture his person.

Smiling, not at her false shyness, but at his new ability to disregard such pretenses, he welcomed her into his arms and swept her away, knowing he had not one intention of giving this one another dance.

After ten dances and four glasses of the ladies’ pink, fruited concoction, no particular female captured his attentions.  Casting about for his valet he refused the next dance and withdrew to stand quietly beside Blithers, who by this time, had time to think about the matter at hand — producing the widowed Laird a proper wife.

“Ah my dear Annabel.”  Blithers stepped forward to bow elegantly.  “You look most lovely this evening.  Quite the woman.”

Laird Carmichael’s green eyes shuttered the surprised vision he saw before his eyes.  Neither blond, nor blue-eyed like Helen, this woman was….was…plain.  Smaller in stature than Helen and not nearly as well-endowed. 

“Laird Carmichael, Miss Annabel Wedgewick.”  The name grated at his ears but he showed no sign.

Thankfully Blithers slipped away, leaving him to investigate.

Immediately his senses kicked in and he found himself inspecting her person.  This was no Wedgewick woman.  She was an imposter.

“You think me an imposter.” She stated.

He looked surprised. She had spoken the words he had been thinking.  He said nothing, but bowed over her hand as was expected and then dropped the small-gloved hand immediately. He watched as her eyes darted away for a moment’s pause, then as her chin lifted a notch at the discreet rebuff.

He decided to play her game.

“Ye read thoughts, too?” He looked down into her small face and then in a most ungentlemanly way, proceeded to scrutinize her from the top of her dark-haired head to the tip of her small booted feet.

“Only those apparent on one’s face.”  She countered, coloring profusely.  “I know that my features do not resemble those of my sisters.  Helen was beautiful, my other sister Meredith is both beautiful and talented. I am neither.”

At that moment an exquisitely dressed woman with light blue eyes and red-brown hair appeared.  Her shiny thick hair, studded with pearls, was wrapped around her handsome head in a swept-up fashion.  The gown she wore, an iridescent confection of lavender satin beneath a frothy white lace, accented her tall shapely body perfectly.  Annabel couldn’t help comparing the beautiful woman’s alluring elegance to her own plain frock and less than womanly figure. 

“Excuse me.”  The Laird bowed gallantly, a slight smile on his face, and stepped away.  The bagpipes sounded out a vigorous tune and he was gone. 

The young man she remembered had been different.  Today his green eyes and handsome face had hardened the minute he knew she was Helen’s sister.  But the instant the young woman stepped between them, she saw the face of the man she knew before.  Kind.  Handsome.  Loving.

Annabel straightened her back and pretended to dust her sleeve with her handkerchief.  Looking for a way to escape, she saw Blithers coming toward her.

“A walk to the terrace perhaps?”  He offered his arm kindly. 

“You are taking chances leaving your post.” She said quietly.

“Aye.”

Once they arrived in the walled-in garden terrace she turned, “I shall be fine, Blithers.  Thank you for your kindness.  I should not have come.”  She fingered a velvety white rose, leaned over to test its sweet fragrance.

“It is I who should thank you.” He said, bowing slightly. 

“Whatever for?” she lifted herself and turned.

“You were a most delightful young lady while you attended your sister.  You do not possess the same…disposition…as your elder sister.” He said carefully.

“That may be.  But I loved my sister, faults and all.  I know she did not behave admirably…especially where the Laird was concerned.  Well I know it.” she whispered.  “But I loved her.”

“Aye, you did.  For you served her well.” He agreed, patting her hand, which nearly sent her into a fresh round of tears.

Sniffing, she pulled her handkerchief from sleeve at her wrist where she had only replaced it and dabbed her eyes.  “I shall be fine, now.” She smiled and tucked the cloth away again.

“Tis unfortunate the Laird has a bitter heart.” he said.

“Yes.” she whispered.  “For even though a mere child, I adored him you know.” She said leaning toward him.

He nodded, but to his credit said nothing, smiled, then took himself away.

Annabel lifted her chin, knew it had been a mistake that she had come and looked for the nearest escape.  Her eyes riveted on the exit door, she started across the floor to be met dead-center by the Laird who stepped in front of her nearly sending her crashing into him.

“Aye.  Miss Wedgewick.” He crooned loudly grabbing her hand and raising it to his lips.  “A pleasure to see you.”  He bowed deeply and then dipped his head and kissed her full on the mouth.

Her eyes widened as her hand flew to cover her mouth in horror.  She did not have to look about to know what had just happened. 

He had effectively, without a word, informed his entire room full of guests that she was his mistress!

Annabel colored deeply, noted the arrogant smile on the lips that had only moments ago rested on hers, and fled.

The moment passed but the whispers continued around the room.  At some point during the scene he had caught a look that he thought only Helen possessed.  When he realized indeed Annabel was a Wedgewick, he knew at once he had allowed his anger to overtake his good senses.

Feeling quite the ogre, he turned to Blithers who had witnessed the entire affair, but the Laird saw no note of it on his valet’s face.

“Blithers, you are looking rather peaked, do you wish to be excused?”

“No sir.”

His affronted look sent a boyish smile scurrying over his employer’s face, sending the tension fleeing.

“Why, I’m not the least bit done in.”  He stood a bit straighter, then realized what  was meant.”

“Might you be ready to discard this evening early, sir?”  He whispered.

“I might.”

“Well, shall I make your excuses for you then?  A long trip tomorrow?”

“Since that is true, yes, Blithers, please make my excuses.”

“Of course, Sir.  I shall be up in a few moments.”

Lord Carmichael nodded inconspicuously, noted several feminine heads that turned to watch him depart and heard as well the whispers of disappointment.  He left Blithers to handle the damage at the widowed Laird’s early withdrawal.

He knew everyone would think he was leaving to meet his newly proclaimed mistress. Anger had overridden his senses and for that he was truly sorry.

Blithers, true to his word, made the proper statements, and turned quickly to avoid apprehension by the females who had not yet danced with Lord Carmichael. 

Making certain there were no females about, Blithers slipped through the secret door beneath the stairway and hurried through the darkened hallways, up to his master’s room.

Knocking twice and then entering, he called out,  “Will you have your burgundy or navy evening coat, sir?”

“Neither.”  Lord Carmichael appeared from his dressing closet already clad in tan shirt and matching riding breeches, sat on the bed to pull on his riding boots. 

Blither’s eyes widened, but he controlled his response.  “You wish to go riding, Sir at this late hour?”

“Aye, that I do.”  Lord Carmichael shot back.

Blithers, wisely, made no comment, instead choosing to busy himself brushing down the plaid recently tossed on the huge four-poster.

“Well?”

“Sir?”  Blithers turned slightly.

“Oh bother, you’re no help at all.” He shouted.  “And  if you think I’ll ever marry another Wedgewick woman, Mulhannon land included, you have lost your senses.”  The slamming door nearly shook the hinges from their positions.

It opened again.  “Tell Ross to take to his bed.  I shall stay within the walls.”  The door slammed again.

Blithers, for the first time, was disappointed in his Laird.