A Nettle By Any Other Name (A Christmas Bouquet Book 2) Read online

  A Nettle By Any Other Name

  Ruth J. Hartman

  A Christmas Bouquet novella

  Dingbat Publishing

  Humble, Texas

  A NETTLE BY ANY OTHER NAME

  Copyright © 2018 by Ruth J. Hartman

  Published by Dingbat Publishing

  Humble, Texas

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without written consent, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.

  This book is licensed to the original purchaser only. Duplication or distribution via any means is illegal and a violation of International Copyright Law, subject to criminal prosecution and upon conviction, fines and/or imprisonment. No part of this book can be reproduced or sold by any person or business without the express permission of the publisher.

  Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and events are entirely the produce of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to persons living or dead, actual locations, events, or organizations is coincidental.

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  About the Author

  Also by Ruth J. Hartman

  To all those who find their true love, even if it’s in the autumn of life.

  Chapter One

  Viscountess Stormont, Helen Marie, Lady Stormont, stepped closer to her cook. Brushing aside an unruly lock of hair from her cheek, Helen said, “Since the fête is coming up, I must make plans. The food must be spectacular, as this is sure to be a well-attended event. I expect even more guests this year than last. My schedule for getting the menu completed is a month behind for the December fifteenth celebration. Why does it seem I’m always scrambling to finish details for something I host every single year? It isn’t as if the party was a surprise.”

  The cook didn’t give an answer. Not that one was expected. Was it Helen’s imagination, or had the other woman discreetly rolled her eyes? It wouldn’t be the first time. Helen was famous for good intentions and poor but well-meaning attempts at keeping everything organized and done in a timely fashion. Her servants were well used to her idiosyncrasies. But Helen, being of a certain age in her fifties, was too old to act differently now.

  The fête, given in honor of the opening of the winter garden planted by the Royal Horticultural Society, needed to outshine recent parties. Helen had her reasons, but mostly they had to do with trying to find favor with those of the ton who had a tendency to snub her.

  Turning her head to gather her thoughts about food for the party, Helen’s mouth dropped open in a very unladylike way. She snapped it closed before anyone else could enter the room and witness it.

  That cat.

  Edwina, full of figure and sporting silver-white fur like her mistress’ hair, trotted merrily across the recently polished kitchen floor. Leaving in her wake small, untidy paw prints. Muddy ones. And if Helen wasn’t mistaken, Edwina had been grinning.

  It wouldn’t do any good to follow her feisty, fluffy pet. The times Helen had tried, Edwina only skittered through the rest of the house, depositing unwanted dirty spots until her paws were free of mud. She usually ended her trail after thoroughly destroying the stairs — her favorite victim. Maybe to punish the cat, Helen should instruct the cook not to feed Edwina quite so much. The feline’s middle seemed to grow rounder every day.

  But no, Helen was too soft-hearted for that. One glance at those large green eyes and long whiskers, and Helen would crumple like an un-pressed ball gown. Silly cat could get away with anything and knew it. It had been that way ever since Edwina had shown up outside the kitchen door as a waiflike half-grown cat, howling loud enough to alert all of Highgate.

  At the time, the cook had tried to chase the little thing away, but Helen succumbed to the feline’s pitiful wail and took her in. The fact that Edwina was spoiled was no one’s fault but Helen’s. Even with all the mischief, she couldn’t imagine her life without her little companion. There were times, many in fact, when Edwina was the only one who would listen to Helen’s ideas.

  Of course, there was no guarantee the cat was really paying attention, but one could always hope.

  With a sigh, Helen turned back to the cook, who had since returned her attention to stirring a large pot of stew. Seemed the servant was used to Edwina’s trickery, too. And since it wouldn’t be the cook cleaning that particular mess, Helen left to find one of the maids to take care of it.

  She found Mary dusting a high shelf in the parlor. When the maid noticed Helen standing behind her, she startled, as if caught doing something wrong. But then, the girl was new. Helen could see that having the mistress find a servant herself, instead of sending someone else to do it, might be a little disconcerting. However, Helen believed in doing certain tasks herself, wanting to be as open-minded as she could, even though most of her acquaintances weren’t that enlightened.

  “Mary, Edwina has once again…” She vaguely pointed toward the hall. “Well, you’ll find that the trail begins in the kitchen, continues through the house, and progresses up the stairs.”

  With a bob of her head, the girl said, “Yes, my lady.” Keeping her eyes averted and head down, the maid scurried away.

  Helen had long been of the opinion that she’d like to have a better relationship with her servants than her contemporaries did. It was considered a strange idea, even wrong, by most, but then Helen was often considered strange herself. Other women she often saw at gatherings went so far as to shy away from her. Just because her ideas were different. Would people never change? At least try to see things from a new point of view?

  Though she did regularly rely on several servants to take care of her needs and those of her home, Helen would love nothing better than a world where women had more say in what they did. Possess a certain amount of freedom in their male-dominated world. However, there was only so much she could do on her own. Still, she was indeed determined to help at least a handful of young ladies hopefully achieve a little independence of their own.

  And she had a plan to do just that.

  This time, she would remain focused and organized, even if it took all of her perseverance to do it. The outcome of her project was too important to fail. This one thing, her goal for the day, was something close to her heart. Much more significant than a party. And, if she could possibly convince some other women she knew to favor her idea, all the better.

  Once the maid had been dispatched to deal with Edwina’s latest indiscretion, Helen readied herself to leave the house. Cecil, the head footman and her companion whenever she went out, had called for the carriage and was himself waiting for her at the door when she alighted the stairs.

  “Ready to depart, Cecil?” Helen waved her gloved hand toward the door.

  With a slight smile, he gave a single nod. “Yes, my lady.”

  Perhaps her question seemed redundant, considering the fact that he had been waiting for her to get ready, himself dressed to go out and standing patiently by the entrance. Sometimes — no, make that often — Hele
n’s words flew out of her mouth without a sensible accompanying thought.

  Which was never good.

  Thank goodness Cecil had been with her for more years than she could remember. He’d surely grown used to her often unusual words and ideas. In all appearances, at least, he seemed to endure her whims.

  At least someone did. Even though the man happened to be in her employ.

  The same couldn’t be said for Helen’s contemporaries, however, with their contemptuous expressions and barely disguised judgmental stares whenever she was in their company. It had always been thus, since she’d been a girl. At times, others barely tolerated her notions. She’d taken the fact in stride. But this time…

  Helen’s skin shivered as she went over the newest idea in her mind. Though she doubted she’d receive much, if any, support from other women, her plan had to go forward. Wasn’t it worth a try, at least? Perhaps some of the women would pleasantly surprise her. The future of young ladies, at least a few of them, was too valuable to waste.

  She’d directed the driver to take them to the home of Lady Geistings for the monthly meeting of the Ladies Guild. As she sat in the carriage across from Cecil, it was all she could do to contain her unbridled enthusiasm. Why, her idea could change the very structure of society. For the better, of course.

  The carriage hit a bump, and Helen’s reticule flew across the interior. Deftly, Cecil’s hand shot out, snatching it before it landed on the floor.

  “I believe you dropped this,” he said.

  Raising one eyebrow and giving a nod, Helen took it from his outstretched hand. No words were necessary, as Cecil made it his habit to always be on the lookout for anything his mistress dropped, stepped on, or bumped into.

  Perhaps if she wasn’t so clumsy, she’d make a better impression on the other ladies of her acquaintance. But then, she doubted that would change their opinions of her opinions. Either way, whether they listened to her new idea or not, she had to forge ahead.

  When the carriage rolled to a stop, Helen prepared to depart. The door opened, and the driver handed her down. Cecil followed, readjusting his hat, which had been knocked askew as he’d descended from the carriage.

  Apparently, Helen wasn’t alone in things going awry. Not that her footman would ever admit it.

  The Ladies Guild meeting was held the first of each month. Though they didn’t always discuss matters of note, it was a wonderful venue for gossip and hearing about the latest scandal. With all the ladies held captive in one room, perhaps Helen could make her plea for support. Not that she had hopes of many, but even a handful of women willing to help would be welcome.

  While she stepped inside the home, Cecil stayed outside. He always said it was to watch the carriage, even though the driver would do that. Helen knew the real reason. He liked to smoke his pipe. In Helen’s house, she preferred people not smoke. Having him do it that way, thinking he was getting away with something in the process, was all well and good for both of them.

  Inside, women chattered like magpies. If all of them were talking at once, how did anyone listen? What did it accomplish for every person to try to be heard at the same time?

  As Helen approached the first group of ladies, they stopped, as one, and pointedly stared. At her.

  Unfortunately used to this behavior, she nevertheless took the closest available seat and wore a pretend smile. Though the women were rude, they’d not go so far as to all rise from their chairs at once and leave.

  Placing her reticule on her lap, Helen folded her hands placidly on top, and waited. Making them address her first was one of life’s little pleasures. Because most of the time, they could be as friendly as vipers with sore tails.

  With a sigh, one woman finally succumbed to the rules of proper etiquette. “Good day, Lady Stormont.” She cleared her throat politely before adding, “So lovely to see you.”

  Others gave halfhearted nods, surely glad that their friend had taken the initiative and spoken first.

  Forcing an even wider smile, she nodded in response. “Lovely to see you all, as well.”

  A collective sigh came from the group, as if relieved they’d done their duty and could now return to their chatter. However, Helen had no intention of letting this opportunity pass by. She cleared her throat politely then said, “Pardon me.”

  All eyes once again focused on her. Several wore expressions of annoyance. Others, having been ready to commence speaking, snapped their mouths closed. Though to most people that would be disconcerting, Helen didn’t let it discourage her.

  When she realized her fingers had tightened on the fabric of her reticule, she forced her hands to relax. “If you’ll indulge me, I have something I wish to say.”

  Had someone groaned? It had come from across the room. No one made eye contact with her, so it was difficult to tell. But did it matter? She shouldn’t be at all surprised. When she remembered her reason for being there, for putting herself in a place to be ridiculed, she sat up straight, suddenly emboldened by her mission.

  When no one inquired as to what her words might entail, she went on. “It has come to my attention that there is a small group of bluestocking young ladies who are at this moment without a proper place to reside.”

  One woman blinked; another covered a yawn with her gloved hand. A third’s chest rose and fell in a silent sigh.

  “These young women are bright, energetic, and forward-thinking. The very type of person who will be a wonderful asset for the future of Highgate.”

  Still no response from anyone. In fact, a maid had stopped in mid-motion, her hand holding a cup of tea out toward a woman in a peach gown.

  “You see, I had an idea that I believe will be of benefit to these fine women. And to all of us.”

  The room was silent now. Not the flutter of a fan. Not the squeak of a chair. Helen had envisioned exactly that reaction, but the reality of it was still hard to take. If another person had told her they had something that would benefit her, she’d haven given them her full attention. Obviously, these ladies weren’t like her. At all.

  “My proposal to all of you is this… To provide these lovely young ladies a safe, low-cost place to live where they can be free to pursue study of their individual interests.”

  When the room stayed silent, Helen convinced herself it was time to depart. Apparently, no one in the room was even going to give her the decency of a reply. Ready to rise from her seat, she stopped when something shuffled to her right.

  Lady Federley, sitting three seats away from Helen, leaned forward in her chair and made direct eye contact.

  Ah, perhaps someone does want to help, after all. Helen rested back down on her chair, ready to have a lively discussion about the exciting possibilities of her idea. How shallow to have thought there wouldn’t be someone who would want to help.

  “Lady Stormont,” said Lady Federley, “let me see if I heard you correctly. You want us to give you funds to help you finance a home for that type of girls?”

  Someone, Helen couldn’t tell who, tittered. A few others wore small, satisfied smiles, as if secretly pleased Lady Federley had said the words they’d been too shy to speak.

  “Why would I, or anyone here for that matter—” several heads shook side to side “—want to part with family money to waste it on something so worthless?”

  What Helen had optimistically hoped would be a positive confirmation of her wonderful idea was nothing but the usual rebuff. “Because,” she said, “it is of the utmost importance that these young women are given what they need — a safe place to reside — in order to continue on in their very important pursuits.”

  “Why would that interest us?” said the woman. “Women know their role in society. At least, they should. Marry well. Produce an heir. Unless one of them was my own daughter — which I can assure you would never happen, because I wouldn’t allow any offspring of mine to participate in something so senseless — I wouldn’t give you a single solitary coin.”

  The buzz of se
veral women murmuring to each other filled the previous silence. Giving it one last chance, Helen gazed around the room, hoping to find someone, even one person, who would give her an encouraging smile. An affirmative nod. Anything.

  There was nothing.

  With a sigh of resignation, Helen stood, turned, and though she didn’t feel like doing it, held her head high as she made her way out of the house.

  Chapter Two

  Talbot Yelverton, Earl of Godolphin, stepped from his carriage, giving a nod to the driver. His cane, which was more for show than need, tapped along the pathway to the front entrance of Helen’s home. Though he hadn’t spoken to her for a few weeks, she was never far from his thoughts. The woman captivated him. Had ever since he’d been a small boy. They’d grown up living within a close vicinity to each other, his home at Nettlebloom next to hers at Rosebriar. Even though Helen was older than him by fifteen years, that hadn’t mattered to Talbot. He’d thought everything she did had been fascinating.

  In fact, he still did.

  The second after he knocked on the door, it opened. It never ceased to amaze him how the head footman managed it. Didn’t the man ever step away from the door, even for a moment?

  “Good day, Cecil.”

  “Good day, my lord.” The footman stepped aside two paces, allowing him to enter.

  Handing over his hat and cane, Talbot marveled, as always, the welcoming atmosphere of Helen’s home. His own house was lovely and lively, often with family about, but the moment he entered her home, he always relaxed and gave a smile, if for no other reason than he was closer to her.

  Whenever they met, she was always friendly, the perfect hostess. But now he wished for more. While he had married another woman years and years ago, due to his father’s wishes and the fact that it had benefitted both families, he hadn’t been in love with his wife. She’d been kind and sweet, but his heart only had one true love. And that particular woman was, at that moment, making her way down the staircase toward him, a wide smile on her face.