Page 35 of The Recluse of Wolfeton House (Ladies of Devon 4)

Chapter 12

Hattie sat on a wooden bench outside of Mrs. Fowler’s cottage and waited for Amelia to finish her business with the Cunning Woman. She pulled her watch from her bodice and checked the time. It had been half an hour already. Surely Amelia would be finished soon.

A metal rooster sat atop the building opposite, spinning with the growing wind. Hattie tucked the watch back into her bodice and pulled her pelisse tighter about her neck to ward off the chill. Clouds gathered on the horizon, the gray sky overhead turning dark despite the midday hour. They’d ridden over on horseback and would need to leave soon if they were going to beat the storm home.

Voices filtered through the door and Hattie rose as they grew louder, crossing to meet the women. The door opened, and Amelia’s radiant grin was telling. Hattie took her hand, squeezing it, and Mrs. Fowler followed her outside, a satisfied smile resting on her timeworn face. Her frizzy gray hair was pulled back in a loose knot, and an apron covered her thin, woolen gown. She looked exactly as she had the last time Hattie visited this cottage, though Hattie would prefer not to remember that day. Or, rather, the sheer desperation she’d felt.

It was only a few months ago that Hattie had obsessed so heavily over finding the man she was meant to marry, that she had put herself into something of a state. But she was doing better now. Understanding fate and timing beyond her own control had allowed her to take a step back from her husband-search and appreciate her life for what it was.

Lucy, of course, was not helping. But her presence in Devon was only temporary.

“I cannot thank you enough,” Amelia said, unable to curb her smile.

Mrs. Fowler cast an affectionate glance over her. “You may come to me or send for me as often as you wish. This is a great blessing, indeed.” Turning to Hattie, her steely, penetrating gaze seemed to sink directly through her skin and read her very soul. “And you, Miss Green. It has been quite some time since I’ve had the pleasure of a visit.”

Hattie’s mouth went dry, and she avoided looking at Amelia. When she’d come here in the past to obtain incantations from the Cunning Woman, she had told her friends that she’d sent her maid in her stead, believing it wouldn’t do to worry them unnecessarily. Though anyone could plainly see that Mrs. Fowler, while accomplished at white magic, was also harmless; and she excelled in her capacity as a midwife.

“Have you found some contentment, dear?” Mrs. Fowler pressed.

Hattie was able to nod truthfully. “I have considered seeking more answers, but I fear knowing too much would put me into something of a nervous state.”

“Yes, it very well could. Well, you are always welcome here. Both of you.”

Amelia thanked her, and they mounted their horses with the help of the bench on the side of the house.

“We ought to hurry,” Amelia called over the growing wind. “It looks as though a storm is coming.”

Hattie nodded, urging her horse to go faster, and Amelia came level with her. “Good news, I take it?”

“Oh, Hattie,” Amelia said, her eyes glowing with joy. “I dare not hope, not until I have the babe in my arms. But I am too excited to do much else.”

Hattie’s heart warmed. It was difficult not to be overjoyed and full of hope on Amelia’s behalf after the years of heartache she’d endured. She deserved this. “Do you plan to tell Charles the news straight away?”

“Yes. Now that I have reasonable confidence in this babe, and not simply a hope, I will tell him.” She gave a rueful smile. “I’m sure I wouldn’t be able to keep this secret.”

“I’m certain he will wish to celebrate with you.”

A cold drop of rain fell on her cheek, and she swiped it away. “The rain has come. Shall we part at the road?”

“That is probably for the best.” Amelia looked as though she wanted to say something more but stopped herself. “Thank you for coming with me. I’m not sure I would have had the courage to face that alone. If I’d received bad news, I would have needed you there.”

“I was happy to be with you.”

Amelia lifted a hand in a wave and turned off on the lane that led to Sheffield House where she resided with her husband. The rain began to fall in earnest, dripping over Hattie’s face and running over her horse. She lightly slapped her reins against the horse’s gray neck, moving into a canter. She didn’t wish to be reckless on the increasingly slippery road, but she also wanted to avoid being caught in the rain.

Nearing the road that turned off toward Wolfeton House, she felt drawn toward the duke’s home but fought the desire to follow the lane. They’d agreed upon Monday, and as eager as she was to begin their lesson, she needed to be reasonable. Showing up on Bentley’s doorstep with no reason and no appointment was anything but.

An orange creature darted across the road, passing in front of her horse and she pulled on the reins to avoid the animal. She stuttered to a stop, her heart racing. Had that been a fox? Surely it could be no coincidence that she would see the animal just after leaving Mrs. Fowler’s house.

Jumping from her horse, she pulled it toward the edge of the woods and looped the reins over a branch. The rain was somewhat stunted under the wilting canopy of leaves above her. It would have been much better coverage in the heart of summer as opposed to the autumn. She lifted the hem of her riding habit from the wet earth and followed after the fox, its orange coat easily discernible against the dreary backdrop of the woods, despite the speed at which it fled.

She felt no other reason for chasing the animal except that she’d been drawn to it, but as the rain fell harder, she began to question her sanity. Nearing the lane that cut through the trees and would lead to Wolfeton House, Hattie lost sight of the animal. She stepped onto the lane, her gaze sweeping the ground around her for any sight of it when a horse whinnied and she jumped away, throwing herself to the ground off the lane to avoid its rearing forelegs.

“Madam,” a man called, his boots thudding across the lane to reach her. Strong arms turned her over, and she found herself looking into the handsome countenance of a stranger. “Are you hurt?”

“No, not at all,” she said, pushing herself into a seated position. She had fallen awkwardly on her arm and it felt uncomfortable, but she wasn’t hurt. She was far more interested in learning who this gentleman was.

He blew out a relieved breath and reached for her, his hand coming around her waist as the other grasped her hand and pulled her up. The breath left her lungs in one strong swoop, her heart racing from the contact he’d made.

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