Chapter Text
England, 1811
It really is a beautiful morning, Lucy reflects as she carries the wicker basket in one hand, lazily caressing the tender leaves on a camelia bush with the other. The air is fresh and invigorating, tendrils of mist still lingering above the fields in the golden splendor of the rising sun. She's only just arrived from Town, after having sat and slumbered haphazardly through a five-day journey by coach to stay and keep her cousin company in her pregnancy. She can still feel the ache of the long travel hours in her lower back, but seeing Angela again, glowing that special kind of happiness as a mother-to-be, turned all her misery into positive energy to help the older woman, whom Lucy considers her best friend. After having slept through most of the day yesterday, she woke up early this morning feeling refreshed.
That's why she is now walking through the fields, her shoes getting wet by the dew on the grass and not a soul in sight, on her way to the woodlands not far from the house. Angela had mentioned an upset stomach, and although Lucy has grown up in London, she has spent enough summers with her grandparents to be familiar with certain plants that could help with bad indigestion. She wants to make this special time as comfortable as possible for her cousin, and her own legs need the exercise.
She enters into the shadows of the trees. The smell of earth is stronger here, as it rained during the night. Lucy doesn't mind the occasional raindrop falling on her head from the higher branches, but she is careful to avoid the muddier patches of ground between the verdant shrubbery.
She carefully starts collecting the roots and mushrooms she finds, gently brushing them clean before placing them in her basket. The air is filled with the songs and calls of birds, her intrusion hardly noticed. Her light muslin dress only a white speck on nature's colorful palette. She starts humming a lullaby, her eyes and mind focused on the task at hand, only occasionally pausing to tuck a loose curl of hair back in place. She had not wanted to ask Angela's abigail to do her hair, so she had twisted her long dark locks into a simple chignon.
As she spots some Angelica root on the edge of a marshy area, she excitedly leaves the trees for a closer inspection. Suddenly, the thundering sound of a galloping horse fills her ears. She turns abruptly, dropping her basket in fear as a massive body and stampeding hooves narrowly miss her. She is frozen as clumps of mud splatter against her arms and dress, the delicate fabric now a sodden mess. The horse and its rider, a tall man with shortcropped blond hair, halt their neck breaking speed and turn around, the chestnut stallion neighing, as if impatient.
The adrenalin now receding, Lucy feels embarrassed and naked in front of this stranger, her dress all but ruined. The man is looking her over, worry edged on his chiseled face. His light hair is tussled and his midnight blue riding jacket open, showing a white linen shirt under a cream colored waistcoat that is not completely buttoned up. The man's handsome face and broad shoulders would have made Lucy giggle behind her fan if she had been in one of London's fine ballrooms.
Now, she is vexed beyond belief. The feeling increases when the man just stares at her, his horse dancing underneath him. It looks like he is ready to bolt. Lucy is not sure if she means the horse or the man. Her dark eyes narrow and her mouth turns into a pout.
"Are you just going to stare at the lady you ambushed?" She says crossly.
The man snaps out of his reverie, a look of guilt in his deep blue eyes.
"I'm sorry. Miss, are you hurt?"
Lucy breathes in through her nose, trying to calm down." No, I'm not hurt. You just scared me."
She looks down, frowning at the smudges on her white dress.
"And these stains are going to be a... hey!"
She cries out as the man is turning his horse around to leave. "Where are you going?"
He combs a hand through his hair, his jaw clenched.
"Forgive me, I have urgent business."
"But..!"
"Don't walk alone in these woods, it's not safe," he warns, and with a command to his horse he spurs the beast to a gallop.
Lucy can't be more perplexed as she feels more drops of mud hit the hem of her dress. Her hands ball into fists as she looks at his quickly retreating back.
"What a horrible, heartless man!" she yells at the trees in frustration.
Lucy's anger is still boiling as she returns to the house. Before she can move upstairs to her room to put on a clean dress, her cousin walks out of the library, her wide lavender dress hardly concealing that she is heavy with child. One hand is cradling her side.
"Lucy, there you are. I just received some news that... heavens, what happened to you?"
"Angela, I'm not really good company right now. I was almost trampled by a horse, and I'm not sure these stains will come out."
She's hitched the smudged front of her muslin dress a few inches of the ground, while lifting her other hand to wipe some loose wisps of hair out of her eyes.
"Trampled? Are you alright? Why is the rider not here to escort you home?" Angela's face is all concern.
Lucy takes a deep breath to calm down, then smiles bitterly.
"The 'gentleman' was in quite a hurry. He only made sure I was not injured, before galloping away on his chestnut steed."
She harrumphed. "And though he looked very dashing," - her traitorous heart skips a beat - "he certainly had no manners. He even looked like he had not given any thought to his clothes before he left his house. He wasn't even wearing a hat!"
Lucy's voice had risen, and she bites her lip, not wanting to upset Angela and her baby. Her cousin needs to rest in the final weeks of her confinement. She forces a smile back on her lips.
Angela cocks her head, her eyebrows knit together.
"Where were you walking?"
"In the woods east from here. I wanted to gather some roots and herbs, and cook said that was the best place to find them."
"Did he introduce himself?"
Lucy laughs, shaking her head. "Like I said, not a gentleman."
"I'm sorry, Lucy," Angela smiles sadly, "we have really fine neighbors here, but you unfortunately had to meet one of the few unpleasant ones.
"Unless...," and here her dark eyes light up as she looks at Lucy as if she's found the answer to a great mystery, "you've just met a man of importance."
Before Lucy can ask what she means by that, Angela turns around to the library.
"Wesley, dear! We need your help."
A moment later the door opens to Angela's husband, his powder blue morning coat neatly pressed, accentuating his blue eyes even in the shadows of the hallway.
"Is there something wrong, my love? Are you not feeling well?"
"I'm fine," she smiles, "just help me back to the sofa, my feet are starting to hurt already."
She moves into the library on Wesley's arm, and Lucy can't do anything but follow them, unsure of what Angela is hinting at.
When her cousin is seated comfortably, and Wesley stops fussing over her, Lucy faces the two of them.
"Dear cousin, what were you talking about? What man of importance?"
Angela's smile is wide, and Lucy is not sure if she likes it. When they were young, Angela had smiled in that same way before she had hid a toad in the purse of a neighbor who was visiting her mother. That woman is up to no good.
"Wes, is Captain Bradford back from his travels to Yorkshire?"
Wesley purses his lips, "I believe so, I think James mentioned a few days ago that Hayfield Park was being prepared for its master's return."
"And Captain Bradford has a really nice horse, does he not?"
"Oh, he has several," Wesley smiles, "but his favorite is this chestnut Thoroughbred, and that horse is a sight to behold. Fifteen hundred pounds of pure muscle."
Angela looks at Lucy again, her smile now all teeth.
"As luck would have it, you just met the most eligible bachelor north of Nottingham."
Lucy still can't believe what Angela told her as she slips out of her dirty garment and puts on her favorite smocked dress, a buttercup yellow that always brings a smile on her face. She can use the comfort, because her thoughts are flying everywhere like a flock of geese during hunting season.
The man she met this morning at such an unfortunate moment, and who treated her so disrespectfully, was none other than Captain Timothy Bradford, Master of Hayfield Park and of pretty much all the surrounding land in this part of the county.
She brushes her hair, serious brown eyes looking back from the mirror. As much as she wants to dislike the man, she's also aware that she can't stop thinking about the captain's intense gaze on her, the line of his jaw. She heaves a sigh. 'Stop acting like a love-sick debutante' she admonishes herself.
Mary, Angela's abigail enters and the petite woman quickly braids Lucy's hair into a complicated hairdo that compliments her face. The vain part of Lucy's heart groans, wishing she had taken the time earlier to get her hair properly done. She must have looked like a scullery maid to him. She thanks Mary with a tight smile on her lips.
Down in the kitchen she gets to work on the root and vegetable soup for her cousin. She brings the meal to Angela with a warm loaf of bread and fresh butter, and she finds comfort in talking to Angela about their childhood days, while they both enjoy the soup. Wesley has gone to his office in town, his work as a solicitor often keeping him occupied during the day, sometimes late into the evening.
Lucy knows that Angela will not let the topic of Captain Bradford rest, so she's not surprised that when the maid starts cleaning up the used bowls and plates, her cousin grabs her arm.
"Lucy, Mrs. Humphries is coming over with her daughter this afternoon." Angela rolls her eyes. "She's a terrible gossip, but she has a good finger on the pulse of this town. If you want to know more about your captain, you should ask her."
"My captain?" Lucy huffs in derision. "Why do I get the feeling you are already planning our banns being read next Sunday?"
"Because I love a good wedding," Angela's laughter is light. She smiles and squeezes Lucy's arm, "But also because you are an amazing woman, and you deserve to be happy with a good and honorable man. I think you two would make a splendid match, even if both of you have yet to come to that realization."
At Lucy's uncertain frown she continues, "Look at Wesley and me! We were like water and fire. But love has a way of grabbing hold of you and not let you turn away from what could be your destiny."
Lucy can't stop a smile from creeping up. "Cousin, have you been reading those trashy romance novels again?"
They both giggle. Lucy's hand covers Angela's. She nods thoughtfully as she looks into Angela's smiling face.
"I can see how happy you are, and I do wish that for myself. And if I can find that joy with a navy captain or a scholar, it does not matter. I do want to follow my heart." She bites her lip. "If that means not finding him, and living the rest of my life alone, that's alright. I'm content with what I have now."
"You wouldn't mind becoming an old spinster?"
Lucy's smile warms, "No, as long as there are plenty of nieces and nephews to dote on."
Angela is not wrong about Mrs. Humphries knowing everyone and everything that is happening in the village. Her large and lively personality matches her plump figure, the poison green feather on her small hat waving dangerously in the air each time she makes a point. Her daughter, who could not have been older than eighteen, is a stark contrast: slender and very quiet.
"So as I was saying to Mrs. Wynn, 'watch your silverware, that new footman from Egmanton is not to be trusted'. And he proved me right, the man was fired within a fortnight!"
Lucy turns to the younger woman, trying to include her into the conversation.
"Miss. Humphries, is there an activity you enjoy in particular? Painting or perhaps horse riding?"
The blond girl ducks her head, her cheeks flushing pink immediately.
"I enjoy reading," is her soft reply.
"Wonderful, I love to read as well!"
But before Lucy can continue to ask what authors she prefers, the girl's mother breaks into the conversation.
"Reading! Reading is all Ann does, day after day! But for what? Her time would be better spent in practicing her dancing. It will be her first Season in London this winter, and there is so much to prepare for. Getting the dresses ready alone will take months!"
The feather is doing a happy little dance.
"But here I'm talking about balls in Town, when we are having our own ball right here, in just a few days!"
The delight in Mrs. Humphries voice shakes Lucy awake. A ball?
"That's right, Lucy! I forgot to tell you. I'm so sorry," Angela gives her cousin a nod, the crooked smile on her face telling Lucy that she's not sorry at all.
"Mr. Grey and his wife are giving a ball this Friday. They are splendid people and have really helped me get settled here. You'll get to meet them."
She looks down, stroking her belly. "Of course, in my condition I cannot attend, but I'll be sure to instruct Wesley on whom he should introduce you to."
Her eyes twinkle, "I'm sure Captain Bradford will be there as well."
Mrs. Humphries almost chokes on her chamomile tea.
"Captain Bradford, indeed! What a lovely man, so honorable and attentive!"
Lucy raises an eyebrow at Angela, but their neighbor does not seem to notice as she continues her praise of the man in question.
"He served the Crown superbly, fighting against the French and commanding his own frigate with three hundred men.
"I think my Ann would make him a fine wife, if only she would know how to catch his eye. The man has seen enough sorrow in his life."
Here the older woman lowers her voice, shaking her head in commisseration.
"He was married, you know. A feisty thing, that girl. One that his father did not approve of." Mrs. Humphries sighs. "But she died only a year later, in childbirth."
The woman reaches out and pats Angela's hand. "It was a little girl, I heard. They are buried at Portsmouth, because he had just received his commission for the HMS Shannon at the time."
Lucy's heart aches, hearing this part of the captain's life being examined by her as a stranger. Losing your wife and daughter like that, it must have torn his soul apart. Her angry feelings for this man dissipate even more. To hear this woman sing Captain Bradford's praises makes her reconsider her own quick judgement of him.
"Does the captain still serve in the Royal Navy?" She asks somewhat uncertainly.
"No, the good man retired two years ago, when his father, the Baronet, died. He's taken up his responsibilities as Lord of the Manor, and his tenants have been blessed for it."
The older woman snorted very unladylike. "We should not speak ill of the dead, but the late Lord Bradford was not particularly well liked. I'm pleased the captain has turned out very different."
Lucy's next days are spent in close company with Angela, putting final touches to the nursery, reading in the library and taking walks around the rose garden. The heady perfume of the delicate peach and pink roses is a pleasant note on her wandering thoughts.
Now that she can look back on that morning in the woods with a more clear mind instead of her hurt pride, and as she listened to Mrs. Humphries stories of Captain Bradford, she's become even more intrigued by the man. Her desire to make another early morning walk on those grounds is halted by his warning.
Don't walk alone in these woods, it's not safe.
What did he mean by that? And what was that urgent business that had him in such a hurry?
Lucy feels a strong pull towards the man, and she is nervous about feeling this way. She's met plenty of high-ranking officers and gentlemen at the balls and parties during each Season.
One enamored younger son of a Duke was kind, but dull. A dashing lieutenant had been too handsy. The last one, a successful entrepreneur, had only talked about himself and his future plans to increase his fortune. None of them struck her fancy, driving her parents crazy.
Would a second meeting with the riveting navy captain change that?