Whitefield Hall: Novella Read online

  “You will have to make do,” he said since it is not a sidesaddle.

  Make do? In a state of shock about being raised and plopped upon the leather seat, I felt totally unprepared. No opportunity to get comfortable came, and I felt myself slipping off as soon as he let go of my body. To my horror, I tumbled downward and yelped a short scream when I landed on my stocking feet in front of him. The baron broke out in laughter.

  “Apparently, that answers my question, Miss Gleadhell. You will have to ride with me,” he said.

  “You cannot expect me to sit on a horse with you,” I vehemently complained. Like a stubborn woman being told what to do, I placed my hands on my hips and scowled at his suggestion.

  “Well, if you insist, I will sit on the horse, and you can walk home in your stocking feet. Would you prefer that instead?”

  The baron placed one foot in the stirrup and waited for my answer. His face soured in frustration, and I knew he might gallop off and leave me there to fend for myself. “No,” I sheepishly answered to gain some sympathy.

  “Good.” He mounted and reached out his hand toward me. “Take it and I’ll pull you up. I suggest you straddle the horse so you don’t fall off.”

  “Straddle?” The unladylike position caused me to hesitate.

  “I’m not asking you get on it in front of me. Climb behind me, and I’ll see nothing,” he said, leaning down and stretching his arm further.

  I glanced at him and reluctantly took his hand while holding my shoes with the other. His muscular limb pulled me upward with one quick jerk.

  “Bloody hell,” I screeched, flinging my leg over the horse. My cheeks burned over the indecency of my position and the curse that flew out of my month.

  “Tsk, tsk,” he said with a tone of comicality. “Do you always use such indelicate words? I am taken aback by your unladylike speech.”

  “As I am,” I replied. “However, this is quite uncomfortable and embarrassing.”

  He glanced over his shoulder and gave me a reassuring smile. “I suggest you put one arm around me and hold on. I wouldn’t want you to fall off again.”

  With a flip of the reins and a slight kick of his heel, the horse jolted forward causing me to grab hold of him. The baron’s frame was lean but solid as a rock, and I felt small compared to his tall physique. After realizing I held him far too tightly, it dawned on me that I pressed my breasts against his back. Immediately I pulled away to put distance between us.

  “Are you comfortable?” he asked.

  “For the most part,” I coolly replied. He pulled back on the reins and slowed the horse to a casual gait.

  “Where did you think you were going on your own, Miss Gleadhell?”

  My body stiffened as I braced for a scolding. I could not tell him that I was glad to be away from his mother, so I gave him the shaded truth.

  “I felt the need for a breath of fresh air, so I decided to take a walk.” Surely, he would accept such a rational answer.

  “And a walk in our gardens wasn’t enough apparently. Instead, you decided to tromp down the road on your own, regardless of the risks,” he said in a scolding tone.

  “Well, I didn’t see any harm in it. Don’t you ever feel like getting away, your lordship?”

  “Stop calling me your lordship,” he barked. “While we are alone, call me Dudley.”

  “But your mother…” I protested, remembering her ladyship’s stern warning.

  “This may surprise you, but I don’t give a damn what my mother thinks. You will call me Dudley while alone in my presence. Is that understood?”

  His adamant request startled me, so I conceded halfheartedly. “Yes, your lordship.”

  “Yes what?”

  “Dudley, your lordship.” I tried to adjust my mind from referring to him as “the baron” and addressing him as “Dudley” instead. His title made it much easier for me to distance myself emotionally from him as a man. Calling him by his Christian name gave me a sense of intimacy, which to my shame I enjoyed. After all, his entire name sounded impressive—Dudley Horatio Andrew Beaumont. However, I was not about to give him the satisfaction of knowing my sentiments.

  “Oh, for goodness sake,” he grumbled. He halted the horse and glanced over to a tall oak only a few yards away from the road. A moment later, he guided the mount into the grassy field.

  “Where are we going?” I clung to him tighter because of an unexpected change in direction.

  “I feel like sitting under that tree,” he replied. After stopping and dismounting, he looked up at me and offered his hand. “Would you like me to help you down?”

  All I could think about was the awkward position I would have to assume by lifting my skirt in front of him to dismount. My bloomers would be in full view. “I can do it myself if you would be so kind as to turn around.”

  “Fine, if that is what you wish,” he said, obeying my request.

  I waited until his eyes glanced elsewhere and awkwardly flung my leg over the horse and slid off the saddle. Once I landed on my feet in the cool grass, I shoved back a strand of hair that had fallen into my eyes. If that wasn’t embarrassing enough, my skirt was wrinkled and soiled, and my toe poked a hole through my stocking.

  “Are you off?” Dudley asked impatiently.

  “I’m off,” I huffed, dropping my shoes and rearranging my crooked hat. Dudley quickly turned to face me and smiled warmly.

  “Give me your hand,” he offered, holding his out.

  I hesitated, trying to decide if I should obey his command. When I glanced into his eyes and saw a soft longing for me to do so, I relented. My fingers were cold compared to the warmth of his palm. The touching of our flesh tingled. I had never placed my hand into that of another man, except for my father as a child.

  He gently led me toward the tree trunk. Dudley sat down, and he pulled me downward next to him. I plopped on the green blades wondering what horrid stain would be added to my outfit. Embarrassed over my big toe poking out from the end of my stocking, I pulled my feet underneath the hem of my skirt.

  “I must look frightful,” I shamefully moaned.

  “You look quite attractive,” Dudley replied. “Do not be concerned about your appearance.”

  Sitting under the oak tree on a pleasant day should have felt sublime, but my mind drifted back toward Whitefield Hall. The fact that I sat alone and unchaperoned with his lordship would surely get me in trouble with Lady Catherine. Would she carry out her threat and lock me in my room, withholding food? I shuddered at the thought as it ruined the enjoyable atmosphere. If his mother found out about our moment together, I would be the one to pay the price.

  “I think we should return to Whitefield Hall,” I said after agonizing over the situation. “Your mother will be displeased should she discover we are together… alone.”

  “You needn’t worry. I’ll take care of my mother.” He reached out and touched a strand of hair that had fallen down into my eyes and brushed it away.

  “But she warned me not to interfere with her plans for you and Lady Buford.” Once again, my mouth spoke before my mind thought of wisdom. I was not consciously interfering with her ladyship’s plans for her son, was I? However, I questioned whether I inwardly did want to thwart their relationship. After all, Dudley did say he had no plans to marry. My womanly mind lost all senses because of his actions of dragging me under an oak tree.

  “If anyone is interfering with my mother’s plans, it will be me,” he replied with a strained voice. He looked at me thoughtfully. “Why is it that you do not wish to marry?” he bluntly inquired.

  “Marry?” I replied, astounded over his directness.

  “Do you intend to be a companion your entire life?”

  Dudley leaned back against the tree. A sunray filtered through the thick canopy illuminating his dark hair. His brown eyes and handsome face mesmerized me. Hastily, I pulled my gaze away and plucked a blade of grass. After twirling it around a few times between my thumb and forefinger, I answered.r />
  “Well, I have no choice,” I said. “I have no dowry and no means of support. You must realize there are little alternatives for a woman of my class.”

  He crossed his arms and looked disagreeably into my eyes. “You mean to tell me you have no desire to be loved, enjoy intimacy with a man, or have children? Is that what you’re saying?”

  His forwardness regarding my personal thoughts shocked me. Practically speaking, I felt marriage an unobtainable quest. Why should I torture myself over foolish thinking? I had to be rational about life, not like some silly empty-headed daydreamer.

  “You are not answering my question,” he said, flashing his demanding look of expected obedience.

  “I do not think of things that are not within my reach, your lordship.” I distanced myself using his title. Speaking his forename, under the circumstances, would only tempt me and breed familiarity that I did not wish to entertain.

  “They could be within your reach, if you possessed those desires,” he replied dryly. Dudley flicked off a blade of grass clinging to his pant leg. His actions revealed his irritation.

  “I assure you these are matters of no consequence to me,” I firmly reiterated in a half-truth.

  To my surprise, Dudley reached out his hand and cupped the side of my face in his palm. I flinched at his touch, but the warmth felt splendidly delightful as he lingered on my cheek. I closed my eyes overcome by the sensation.

  “You mean to tell me that you never want to be kissed, caressed, or experience the intimacy of the marriage bed?” His low sultry voice abounded with temptation. “Every woman wishes to be cherished and adored by a man.”

  He lifted my chin with his fingertips, and I did not protest his movements. I feared his purpose in doing so would lead to a meeting of our lips.

  “Open your eyes, Mary.”

  When I did, I felt helplessly drawn into his dark eyes. Something behind them called me to surrender. The snake had placed me in a vulnerable position, which her ladyship repeatedly warned me about. His gaze turned into a stare of enticement. I knew if his lips met mine it would be a bite of seduction. I was Eve. He was the serpent, and the pleasures of sin called me to taste of the forbidden fruit.

  When I found myself leaning forward toward his mouth, my inner conscience screamed to stop. Appalled I had done so, I sprang to my feet and shouted my demands.

  “I want to go back to Whitefield Hall immediately and insist you return me now.” If I could have stomped my foot on a hard surface to make a point, I would have. Regrettably, the grass beneath my dirtied stockings did not offer such an opportunity.

  Dudley, appearing clearly disappointed, rose and approached. At first I thought he meant to take me in his arms, so I instinctively drew back a step.

  “It’s quite evident to me, Mary, you do desire a man in your life. However, your inexperience in the matter reveals your ignorance about how to attract one.”

  As I stewed over his allegations of my ignorance, he glanced at my mouth as if he were ready to strike with the venom of passion. I clasped my lips tight and glowered at him defensively. Twice he had dared to call me by my Christian name, dispensing with respectfully addressing me as Miss Gleadhell.

  “It is a shame, frankly. I should have liked to experience your soft kiss.”

  Dudley grabbed me by the waist and hoisted me back on the saddle. “Situate yourself properly this time, so you do not fall off,” he ordered. He took the reins of the horse and led the horse down the road rather than mounting in front of me. I could not see his face, but I sensed he had fallen into a brooding mood over a missed opportunity. Troubled, I sat silently pondering until we arrived back at Whitefield Hall. As soon as I dismounted, Mr. Grove flung opened the front door.

  “Thank goodness you found the miss,” he declared. After looking at my shoes and inspecting my dirty feet, he expressed his astonishment. “My goodness, Miss Gleadhell, you look a fright.”

  “Yes, I know,” I replied. “I broke the heel of my shoe.” I held up the damaged pair of pumps. I wanted to sprint toward the stairs but turned around to thank Dudley.

  “I appreciate your rescue, your lordship.” I gave a quick curtsy in respect.

  “My pleasure, Miss Gleadhell,” he replied, tipping his hat. He turned away and led the horse back toward the stables.

  Before running up the stairs to my room, I shot a worried glance at Mr. Grove. “Is her ladyship up and feeling better?”

  “No, miss. She is still in her bedchamber, I believe.”

  “What a shame,” I said, lying through my teeth. I sprinted toward my room and hid until dinnertime.

  Prison of Consequences

  After a quick nap to regain my strength for the evening, I dressed and readied myself for dinner and whatever lay ahead.

  When I exited my bedchamber, I glanced to my right and left of the hallway. To my surprise, I witnessed Dudley whispering into Miss Wade’s ear. She smiled and nodded her head in return. Neither of them noticed my presence. My mouth dropped open at the sight, and immediately I concluded that he had to be up to no good. Did he also seduce other women on his staff?

  I remembered Miss Wade’s words about being jealous of me being in the baron’s company. Perhaps she secretly held affections for him, and they consorted behind closed doors. Their closeness and intimate exchange brought me to the conclusion they enjoyed an immoral tryst.

  Disgusted at the improper display, I turned around and sprinted down the staircase. As I entered the drawing room, I halted my step upon seeing her ladyship. Dark, puffy circles underneath her eyes exposed a day of pain and suffering.

  “Lady Catherine, I’m surprised to see you,” I said, cautiously walking forward.

  “I’m sure you are,” she said coldly. Her mouth parted as if she were going to say something else but closed when Dudley entered.

  “Good evening,” he said. He glanced at me and nodded his head. His eyes turned downward toward my feet. “Are those new shoes?” His face held a knowing smirk.

  I glared at him. “No,” I answered, trying my best to sound nonchalant over his inquiry. “I do have a few pairs you have not seen, your lordship.” His ridiculous comment must have been meant to get me in trouble. Lady Catherine scowled. After we had taken our seats, her ladyship spoke.

  “I’m quite bored with everything,” she said. “I do wish we could dine more often in Manchester.”

  “Manchester?” Dudley echoed.

  “Well, I know you prefer London, so why don’t you go back?” Lady Catherine snapped in a high-pitched tone.

  I rolled my eyes. Here we go again, I thought to myself. Another hour of poking at one another with insulting comments.

  “I plan to this evening,” Dudley growled in return. “You will be rid of me soon enough.”

  He glanced over at me, no doubt waiting for my reaction. Good riddance was my only thought. The tempting rogue would be gone from Whitefield Hall. Surely, things would improve after his departure. It would give me an opportunity to squelch any budding emotions that had been dashed a few moments ago with Miss Wade. I glared at him angrily over his little whispering private moment of consorting with the staff.

  “I have an idea,” he suddenly announced. “Why don’t we go to Manchester? I have a carriage waiting for me outside as we speak. Miss Gleadhell and I can pursue another entertainment while you busy yourself playing cards.”

  “There will be no taking Miss Gleadhell anywhere.” Her ladyship screeched so loudly that Mr. Grove jolted. He was about to announce dinner but stood mortified in the doorway.

  “I think dinner is ready,” I interjected. The butler nodded and retreated from the room. I refused to wait but turned and quietly slipped away. If they wished to scream at one another, I did not care to be a party to their childish behavior.

  To my surprise, Dudley and her ladyship continued to argue in inaudible rants. Their wrath toward one another rolled like thunder into the dining room, but I could not discern the words spoken. Sudden
ly the voices ceased. Dudley’s footsteps stomped across the tiled floor of the entrance hall. I heard the door slam as he exited the residence.

  I walked to the window, where I witnessed him getting into a waiting carriage. A second later, the driver led the horses down the lane. My heart sank in despair. Strangely, I felt abandoned and vulnerable to his mother’s unstable moods.

  Lady Catherine briskly entered the dining room. Immediately she barked an order. “Come with me.” I complied, afraid to protest. She led me all the way back upstairs. Once we reached my room, she glowered at me so severely I trembled.

  “I warned you that if you did not do as I said, you would be confined to your room without food.” She turned the handle and pushed open the door. “Now get inside.”

  I hesitated. She gruffly grabbed me by the arm and shoved me into my bedchamber. A moment later, she pulled the door shut with a bang and turned the key to lock it from the other side. My mouth gaped open in disbelief. Lady Catherine carried out her threat as soon as Dudley departed. Shocked, I stepped back and eyed the doorframe, trying to ascertain if I was hallucinating this dreadful turn of events.

  Pricked by realism, I ran to the window to look for the carriage, but it had disappeared. I walked over to the door and tried the handle, but it would not turn. In desperation, I knocked on the door.

  “Hello, can anyone hear me?”

  No one answered my call or came to my rescue. Desperation rose in my heart, and I balled my fist and fitfully banged on the door.

  “Can anyone hear me? I’m locked inside my room!” I hoped that the staff would not allow her ladyship to treat me so cruelly. “Mr. Grove? Miss Wade? Anyone?”

  When the terrible awareness hit me there would be no release, I turned my cries to my jailer.

  “Lady Catherine, please open the door! I am dreadfully sorry if I have offended you in some way.”

  After a few more frantic, but unproductive knocks, I staggered backward and felt tears sting my eyes. Hysterical something like this could happen, I ran to the window again hoping that Dudley would turn around and come home. However, as the clock ticked the minutes away in my silent cell, my hopefulness dwindled. I sat on the edge of my bed, held my head in my hands, and heard my stomach growl. Lady Catherine’s words echoed through my mind.