Never Dance with a Marquess (The Never Series Book 2) by Maggi Andersen (best memoirs of all time txt) 📕

their effusive praise, shallow, and convinced of their superiority. Once her friend, Mary Woolridge, became pregnant, her husband kept her a virtual prisoner. Carrie would not marry such a man. She had responsibilities and refused to place Bella and Jeremy at risk while they had need of her care.

Carrie picked a bunch of snowdrops that grew near the garden wall, bending their dainty white heads on slender stems. She wandered the paths, breathing in their fresh green perfume.

“Good day.” A young man paused on the other side of the wall to smile at her.

Carrie nodded to him, then turned onto the path which led back to the front porch.

“I say!” He opened the gate and followed her. “I can’t imagine why we haven’t met before. Do you stay long with the vicar?”

Carrie smiled, noting his jaunty purple striped waistcoat, high collar, and intricately tied cravat. She sighed inwardly. “No, sir.”

The vicar emerged through the front door as if shot out of a gun. “Have you come to see me, Mr. Waincliffe? A message from your mother, perhaps?”

“Er, no, Vicar… I was just passing…”

“Then I suggest you be on your way.”

Mr. Waincliffe shuffled his feet. After a longing glance at Carrie, he went back out the gate. With another look over his shoulder, he settled his tall hat on his head and continued down the street.

“Miss Leeming.” Mr. Barnswell stood before her, his shoulders stiff. “It might be preferable for you to remain within the house until you leave on Thursday. Otherwise, I fear my sermon will not be ready by Sunday.”

“Oh? Yes, Mr. Barnswell. I picked some flowers for Mrs. Barns. Aren’t they pretty? So delicate.”

“Indeed, my dear.” With a glance up and down the street, he gestured for her to pass before him into the house.

Carrie had delivered her posy and was ascending the stairs when she heard the vicar speak to his wife in the hall.

“As helpful and delightful as Miss Leeming is, I shan’t be sorry to see her go to Lord Pennington. I declare men buzz around her like bees. I pity the poor fellow the task of keeping the men at bay while finding her a husband.”

“Now, August, you were young once. Have you forgotten?” Mrs. Barns admonished him.

“You were the prettiest girl in Harrogate, Constance, but I cannot for the life of me remember you causing quite that much of a stir.”

Carrie smiled at Mrs. Barns’s tinkling laugh. She reached the top of the stairs and paused, a hand on the banister. Surely the marquess would consider them a burden? He might show no interest in them. She bit her lip. If only her father was still with them. Life had been perfect at Leeming Hall, their beloved, ramshackle old Tudor manor house, but with Jeremy too young to take up the duties of a barony, the estate had been leased to a tenant.

She entered the room where her maid, Anna, packed her trunk.

“Are you looking forward to going to his lordship’s, Miss Carrie?” Anna asked her.

Carrie picked up a bonnet whose blue ribbons had faded dreadfully. She wondered if she would be able to purchase ribbon in Elm Park Village. “To have more time with Bella and Jeremy, certainly.”

“I wonder what Lord Pennington is like,” Anna said, folding a nightgown.

“We shall find out soon enough,” Carrie said, taking a deep breath. What if he were a bad-tempered tyrant? Surely he couldn’t be. But it still left her feeling most unsettled.

***

After a long, arduous journey, Bickle, the family coachman, drove the carriage through a set of elaborate iron gates with Elm Park emblazoned on them. With a wave at the gatekeeper, they proceeded along a road bordered by woodland, before crossing a stone bridge over the river. Then they emerged from an avenue of graceful elms into a fine park.

Nerves fluttered in Carrie’s stomach when the enormous house appeared on a slight rise. In its setting of fountains and terraces, immaculate gardens and lush green lawns, the golden stone building, with a row of towering columns across the front façade, was extremely imposing.

“Ooh, it is far bigger than Leeming Hall, Miss Carrie,” Anna said in a hushed voice.

“Undoubtedly.” It was very different from home in every way. A handsome residence, but she doubted it would prove as comfortable as Leeming Hall, their beloved, untidy, ramshackle home in Yorkshire. She thought with regret of the orchard, of wandering among the apple trees and feeding apples to the horses. That life was over, she told herself sternly. And it was no good at all hanging onto the past. Although the Hall would one day be Jeremy’s home. She must hold on to that.

A footman hurried to put down the steps and assist her and her maid from the coach. This was not to be her home. She was only to stay a few weeks. However, she prayed Jeremy and Bella would come to think of it that way as time passed, at least until she could offer them a home with her after she married. So much depended on her marrying the right man. It all lay ahead of her, like an unclimbable mountain. The very thought filled her veins with ice.

She hurried over to say goodbye to the coachman and wish him well. After a night of resting the horses, he and Henry, their groom, would return to Leeming Hall to work for the new tenant.

He tapped his hat with his whip. “It was my pleasure, Miss Leeming. Please convey my good wishes to Miss Arabella and Lord Leeming.”

“I will, thank you, Bickle.”

Carrie stepped onto the porch where a grizzled-haired butler in a dark-gray tailcoat and stark white linens waited at the entrance. “Abercrombie, Miss Leeming. I have advised his lordship of your arrival, and he shall be along directly.”

“Thank you, Abercrombie.”