Who Brings Forth the Wind (Kensington Chronicles) Read online

  Who Brings Forth the Wind,

  Kensington Chronicles #3

  Lori Wick

  Reflections of a Thankful Heart

  during the nineteenth century, the palace at Kensington represented

  the noble heritage of Britain's young queen and the simple

  elegance of a never-to-be-forgotten era. The Victorian Age was the

  pinnacle of England's dreams, a time of sweeping adventure and gentle

  love. It is during this time, when hope was bright with promise, that this

  series is set.

  7LONDON

  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 forget 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."

  8

  Lord Tanner Richardson, Duke of Cambridge, woke with a

  start, sitting up in one violent motion. The bedclothes were

  drenched 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.

  10

  11

  "Here you go, Mercy," Stacy nearly sang with triumph. "I

  think we'll enjoy these for lunch."

  "I'll see to it, Lady Stacy,1' 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.

  12

  13

  "As a matter of fact, I think it might be agood 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.

  16

  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^at be enough? Maybe you should wait and shop for

  a complefl 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,"

  15

  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 tU,ir 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.

  17

  "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