Who Brings Forth the Wind

set.

LONDON

NOVEMBER 1852

YOU’RE A BUFFOON, HENRY. I was a fool to have married you and an even greater fool to have given you sons. They’re sure to grow to be just like you.

Please, Ramona, please come back to me. Leave that man and return home. If not for my sake, then for William’s and Tanner’s. They need you.

Get out of my sight Henry, and take those brats with you.

I’m sorry to disturb you, your Grace, but—"

You forgot yourself, Price. My brother, William, is the duke.

I’m sorry, Lord Tanner, but your brother is dead. A fire at his London town house. Your wife was found with him. She died also.

Lord Tanner Richardson, Duke of Cambridge, woke with a start, sitting up in one violent motion. The bedclothes were drenced with sweat, and Tanner’s chest heaved as he recalled the nightmares that so vividly portrayed his past.

The dreams hadn’t changed in all these years. His mother’s laugh was just as scornful, his wife’s infidelity just as real. Bleakly content that he hadn’t dreamt about either of them in ages, he threw the covers back and rose, ignoring his robe as he went to the window of his bedroom. The room was cold and the night dark, but his eyes still caught the images of bare trees blowing in the wind.

Do you need something, my lord? a voice spoke softly from the doorway.

No, Price. Go back to bed. The duke’s voice was cold, but the experienced servant knew better than to take this personally. The door was closed silently. It was some minutes before Tanner moved back to the bed.

Climbing back onto the mattress, he recalled the words his Uncle Edmond spoke during dinner.

You need a wife, Tanner. You can scowl at me all you want, and even walk from the room, but it won’t change the fact that you need another wife.

Tanner now gave a mirthless laugh as he settled the covers around him. If his uncle broached that forbidden subject again, he would stop him, even if he had to plant his fist on the older man’s mouth to do it. He fell asleep telling himself that Edmond was wrong; he had no need of a wife, no need at all, none…

MIDDLESBROUGH, ENGLAND

MARCH 1853

ANASTASIA DANIELS SAT ON THE CREEK BANK and stared down at the fishing line that lay undisturbed in the water. Four fish on another line lay at her side, but she’d set a goal of five and was not leaving the bank until she had them. However, her mind was beginning to wander. She pushed a stray lock from her face, wishing she had taken time to brush the honey-gold mass or at least secure it out of her eyes.

Lady Stacy, a voice spoke from behind her, succeeding in drawing her attention from the surface of the water.

Oh, good morning, Peters.

Good morning, my lady. Breakfast is ready, and your grandfather is asking for you.

Stacy was on the verge of telling him she would come immediately when the pole twitched in her hands. She gave all her attention to the catch, and in just moments expertly pulled in a fat trout. She then turned to Peters with a huge smile that he found most contagious.

Tell my grandfather I’ll be right along.

Peters went on his way, and Stacy rose gracefully from the bank. The weighty line in her hand felt wonderful as she stepped lightly over the path and headed for the kitchen.

Here you go, Mercy, Stacy nearly sang with triumph. I think we’ll enjoy these for lunch.

I’ll see to it, Lady Stacy, Mercy, the family cook, told her fondly. She shook her head with true tenderness as Stacy rushed out to clean up for breakfast.

Forty minutes later Stacy and her grandfather, Viscount Andrew Daniels, were finishing their morning meal.

Did I tell you I caught five fish for lunch?

Five! the old man exclaimed. Why didn’t you take me?

I went very early, she explained. It took me forever, though. I must be losing my touch.

Andrew’s only reply to this was a small grunt of disbelief.

Peters says there’s a letter here from London, Andrew commented.

Oh, it must be Lucinda. Why don’t we go into the salon, and I’ll read it?

Stacy began as soon as they were settled:

The weather here is cold right now, but I can tell that spring is around the corner. It will be welcome as the cold gets into my bones these days as never before.

I had two of Mother’s pieces reset, the emerald and the ruby, and I’m hoping Stacy will be interested in them. They’re quite lovely and up-to-date in style. I’ll hold onto them until such a time as Stacy can view them herself.

Stacy stopped reading at that point, and after a moment her grandfather questioned her.

Is that all she says?

No, Stacy admitted, the letter still in her hand. She goes on about my age and birthday, both of which she has wrong.

That’s normal, Andrew muttered. If she mentions your age, then she must have a bee in her bonnet about your coming to London.

Stacy said nothing to this, only sat quietly and watched her grandfather where he rested in his favorite chair. He returned her look, but she knew he saw little; his eyesight seemed to weaken daily.

Read the rest, Stacy. The command was soft, but Stacy complied immediately.

Stacy will be 21 at the end of October, and I can’t believe she’s never come to London. It’s criminal of you, Andrew, not to let her come and try to make a life for herself here. I’m still angry with you that she had no coming out. It’s time Stacy marry and start a family. I know you agree, but you’re too stubborn to admit it.

I’ll forgive and forget all the past, however, if you’ll allow Stacy to come next month and stay for the entire summer, from the first of May to the end of July. I won’t settle for a day less. I’ve been begging you for years, and it’s the least you can do.

I await your letter. Please do not let me down, Andrew. Love to you and Stacy.

Lucinda

Andrew listened as Stacy folded the letter and wished he could see her clearly enough to read her expression. He knew she would go in an instant if he asked her, but he wasn’t certain she would tell him the truth as to whether or not she wanted to go.

From the time she was a little girl Stacy had hated confrontation or unhappiness of any type. Andrew was quite certain that she would walk on hot coals if she thought it would please him.

Would you care to go to London, Stacy?

Would you like me to?

The old man smiled. He had known very well she would answer his question with a question of her own.

As a matter of fact, I think it might be a good idea, he said after a moment, keeping his tone carefully neutral. I don’t feel as Lucinda does, that you need to make a life for yourself there, unless of course you want to, but it might be a summer you would really enjoy.

All right, Stacy agreed, but her voice told him something was wrong.

You’re worried about something.

Two things, actually, she admitted. I’m afraid Lucinda will be determined to marry me off.

Andrew nodded. Stacy was a tall girl, nearly six feet and with a statuesque figure. None of the local boys had wanted a wife, even one with the face of an angel, who towered over them.

I’ll set her straight long before you go, he assured her. What else troubles you?

The train ride. London is so far away, and it frightens me a little to contemplate making the ride alone.

Andrew’s heart sank. He had been hoping that she would be bothered by something plausible, such as London itself, so that he could with a clear conscience tell Lucinda she wouldn’t be able to come.

He did not have the extra staff to send someone on the train with Stacy. However, just the week before his man, Peters, had told him the Binks were headed to London with their daughter Milly to shop for her coming out. He knew they would be delighted to have Stacy with them.

Careful to keep biased emotion from his voice, he told Stacy this. If Stacy believed he wanted her to go, she would pack that hour. If she sensed he was hesitant, nothing could draw her away.

In just a matter of words it was settled. Andrew dictated a letter to Stacy for his sister on the spot, informing Lucinda of his expectations for Stacy’s trip. He also reminded his forgetful sister that Stacy was approaching her twenty-second year and that her birthday was at the beginning of October.

He sent Stacy to post the letter as soon as it was ready and then rang for Peters.

How did she seem?

Fine, my lord.

Not upset?

No.

Her face? What was on her face?

This line of questioning was quite common for Peters, so he answered without hesitation as he led his lordship to his bedroom.

She looked thoughtful, sir. Not upset or overly excited, just thoughtful.

Andrew heaved a great sigh of relief. Next he would have to check with his cousin’s young wife, Elena, for Stacy would be certain to visit her while in the village. If Peters had missed anything, Elena certainly would not.

Elena Daniels sat across the parlor from Stacy just an hour later and marveled, not for the first time, at her looks. She was like a Viking queen with her thick, honey-blonde hair that hung as straight as a line and her beautiful figure, neither of which Stacy seemed to be aware in the slightest. She carried herself proudly, and just looking at her, one would not guess how shy and timid she could be.

So what do you think? Stacy, who had told Elena all about the plans, wished to know.

I think if you want to go, then you should. It sounded harmless to Elena, and she was able to answer Stacy calmly. She was just two years older than Stacy, but her marriage to Noel Daniels, who was 24 years her senior, along with the birth of two daughters, made her feel years older.

I think Papa wants me to go, and I know it would make Aunt Lucinda happy, Stacy told her.

There goes that word again, Elena thought. Stacy must see to it that everyone is happy. When would she see that the only true happiness anyone could have was found in pleasing God?

What about you, Stacy? Will it make you happy?

Stacy’s huge blue eyes were thoughtful. She knew she could be very honest with Elena, but wasn’t certain she should be. She suspected that her grandfather would be checking with Elena as he always did with Peters.

If the truth be told, Stacy said to herself, I would never leave Middlesbrough and the safe haven of Papa’s home.

She had never seen London with her own eyes, but the drawings and paintings she’d studied made it look very large and crowded.

I think I’ve lost you, Elena commented, and Stacy was swift to apologize.

I’m sorry, Elena. I was thinking of London and how big it must be. I’m to have three new gowns. Stacy’s face took on a look of excitement. I’m hoping Aunt Lucinda will approve of them.

Will that be enough? Maybe you should wait and shop for a complete wardrobe there, Elena suggested.

Stacy looked doubtful. I don’t know if Papa can afford that.

What about your dowry?

Stacy sighed; she’d thought of that. He would never agree. He’s so certain that I’ll marry someday.

You could ask him.

Stacy’s look of longing turned to one of fear. The question might anger her grandfather, and she would hate that.

Would you like me to ask him? Elena offered, accurately reading Stacy’s mind. Quite suddenly Elena wanted Stacy’s trip to London to be very special, and thought that an extra dress or two might help.

No, Elena, but thank you for the offer.

Elena nodded. I suppose you’re wise to let it rest, she commented. You’ll need that money when you marry.

Stacy didn’t reply, not wanting to contradict Elena. It wasn’t that she was against marriage, but if the suitable young men Stacy had grown up with were any type of gauge, Stacy was probably right in believing that she would never be wed.

It was true that she was as sweet and lovely a girl as any man could hope to find, but her height was a definite disadvantage. Stacy had had numerous dreams of meeting a tall stranger who would not be put off by her height, but so far no such man had materialized. Maybe in London…Stacy let the thought hang.

Elena, who had noticed Stacy’s thoughtful face but not commented on it, had her own thoughts about the men in London—men who might flirt with Stacy, making promises with their eyes that they never intended to keep.

Stacy had been raised in a sheltered world, one that made her very trusting. The thought of someone hurting Stacy was so painful for Elena that for a moment she couldn’t breathe. Maybe it was best that Stacy not have those beautiful gowns.

Both women were pulled from their thoughts when Elena’s daughters, Harmony and Brittany, suddenly entered the room. They were thrilled to see Stacy, who was one of their favorite relatives. After swarming into her lap, they begged their mother to let them stay with the adults for tea. All thoughts of London were put aside.

WELL, WHAT DO YOU THINK? Stacy asked of Hettie. Hettie Marks was the housekeeper for her grandfather, and had been long before Stacy was born. She had been like a mother to her since before her second birthday, when Stacy had come to live with her grandfather at Morgan, their centuries-old family estate.

I think you’ll do. Of course… Hettie, who always had something negative to say, added, I’ve no doubt the styles in London are quite different, and you might look like a country mouse.

"But I am a country mouse," Stacy reasoned quietly. Hettie could only shrug.

You’ll have to wait and see what Lady Warbrook has to say.

These words were thrown over Hettie’s shoulder as she exited, leaving Stacy alone in her room. As soon as the door shut, the younger woman’s eyes swung back to the full-length standing mirror.

She liked her new dress—in fact she liked all three of her new dresses—but the overwhelming feeling that they all looked the same hung heavy in Stacy’s mind. When she had questioned the seamstress, a Mrs. Crumb from outside the village, the woman had assured her that the change in fabrics—a light blue silk, a pale yellow satin, and a muted shade of red velvet—would disguise any similarities.

Stacy had taken her at her word, but now that the dresses were finished and ready to be worn, she wasn’t so sure. Stacy stared at herself a moment longer and then shrugged much like Hettie had. There was little she could do about it now, and because she was going to be visiting a woman past her sixtieth year, Stacy assumed they would not be dining out each night of the week.

As she changed out of her dress, Stacy’s mind wandered to her trip. She would be leaving in two days. Stacy let her thoughts drift into another world. A world where she was sought after. A world where a tall, dark man would fall in love the moment he lay eyes on her and want her to be his wife.

But then he’ll want you to live in London, Stacy, straightening suddenly, spoke aloud into the still room. That won’t do at all.

With composed movements, and working to bring her thoughts firmly back to reality, she pulled the hairbrush through her hair and then headed for the door to check on dinner preparations.

It simply won’t do to stand about fantasizing when there is work to be done, Stacy told herself. Still, she was seeing a tall, faceless man bending gallantly over her hand.

Stacy’s heart thudded with dread when it was time to say goodbye to her grandfather. Not an overly demonstrative man, Andrew Daniels surprised Stacy by giving her a quick hug. They were nearly of the same height, and Stacy had to force the words from her throat when he dropped a kiss onto her cheek and released her.

Goodbye, Papa.

Goodbye, Stacy. Write when you are settled.

Yes, Papa. She stood quietly then and just looked at him.

Andrew stared in return. His vision was better today, and he could see the uncertainty and fear in her eyes. He kept his own expression bland.

You’re going to be fine, the old man spoke, wondering if he would be able to say the same for himself.