A Winter Chase (The Mercer's House Book 1) Read online

  A WINTER CHASE

  The Mercer’s House Book 1

  A Regency Romance

  by Mary Kingswood

  Published by Sutors Publishing

  Copyright © 2022 Mary Kingswood

  V2

  Cover design by: Shayne Rutherford of Darkmoon Graphics

  All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction.

  Author’s note:

  this book is written using historic British terminology, so saloon instead of salon, chaperon instead of chaperone and so on. I follow Jane Austen’s example and refer to a group of sisters as the Miss Wintertons.

  About the book: A family in trade moving up in the world. A family of landed gentry stepping aside for them. And the sons and daughters caught in the middle.

  Julia Fletcher is the unimportant daughter of the Fletcher family, with neither beauty nor wit nor accomplishments, but always in a scrape. Somehow she never manages to get through the day without breaking or spilling or tearing something. She’s quite the despair of her stepmother. She’s looking forward to their grand new home because it will give her a vast estate to roam over without getting into too much trouble. Or so she hopes.

  James Plummer is the younger son of an impoverished baronet, forced to sell the imposing family home to the upstart newcomers. James doesn’t mind that; he’s the local clergyman so he’s snug in his rectory, with a curate to do the dreary business of the parish and leave him free to wander about with a gun or a fishing rod. It’s all pretty boring, though; his family, his neighbours, his dull daily round… nothing very exciting happens. Maybe the Fletcher family will liven things up a bit? And outspoken hoyden Julia Fletcher seems just the one to shake things up… maybe a little too much for everyone’s peace of mind.

  This is a complete story with a happy ever after. A traditional Regency romance, drawing room rather than bedroom. Book 1 of a 6 book series.

  Isn’t that what’s-his-name? Regular readers will know that characters from previous books occasionally pop up. There are mentions in this book of several Sagborough residents. The Harbottle family (including Nell, her son Louis and Nathan) of Percharden House were seen in The Widow. The Marfords, Lord Carrbridge’s extensive family, were seen throughout the Sons of the Marquess series, and in The Seamstress. Mr Malpas, the mayor of Sagborough, his wife and daughter Emmy were in The Seamstress. Lord and Lady Craston (Ferdy and Fanny) were in The Seamstress.

  About the series: A family grown rich in the wool trade. The landed gentry they’ve displaced. And the gentle daughter whose beauty will open the door to an even greater prize - the nobility.

  The Fletcher family is moving from Yorkshire to a mansion in the south of England. After generations in trade, can they escape their roots and be admitted to the leisured world of the gentry?

  Their new home is Chadwell Park, in Hertfordshire. The Mercer’s House.

  Book 0: The Mercer: the rich merchant and the poor widow. (a novella, free to mailing list subscribers).

  Book 1: A Winter Chase: the wild daughter and the reluctant clergyman.

  Book 2: A Spring Dance: the flirtatious son and the prim paid companion.

  Book 3: A Summer Game: the mischievous daughter and the strait-laced gentleman.

  Book 4: A Michaelmas Truce: the cross spinster and the even crosser bachelor.

  Book 5: An Autumn Courtship: the intellectual son and the flighty socialite.

  Book 6: A Christmas Betrothal: the beautiful daughter, the unhappy son and the lost lover.

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  Table of Contents

  The Fletcher Family

  The Plummer Family

  Prologue

  1: Leaving Sagborough

  2: Chadwell Park

  3: Early Days

  4: Sunday

  5: A Wet Day

  6: Assessment

  7: An Unexpected Encounter

  8: A Visitor

  9: Morning Calls

  10: A Card Party

  11: Courtship

  12: To Aid A Lady

  13: Intentions

  14: A Dinner Party

  15: The Morning After

  16: Stairs And Attics

  17: The Ball

  18: Consequences

  19: Unrequited Love

  20: Home

  21: Surprising News

  22: Reasons

  23: Family Matters

  24: A Quarrel

  25: No Compromise

  26: Reconciliations

  27: Connections

  Thanks for reading!

  About the author

  Acknowledgements

  Sneak preview: Book 2 of The Mercer's House: A Spring Dance

  The Fletcher Family

  Hi-res version available on my website.

  The Plummer Family

  Hi-res version available on my website.

  Prologue

  CHADWELL PARK, HERTFORDSHIRE

  THE FIRST DECADE OF THE 19TH CENTURY; OCTOBER

  Sir Owen Plummer had commanded his entire family to assemble in the library at Chadwell Park. Not that he would ever be so ill-mannered as to express himself so. He would be greatly obliged if they would attend him, or some such, but to James, the clipped, brisk tones of the former military man always sounded like commands. No more than ten years in the army and thirty out of it, but Sir Owen was still a soldier at heart.

  They were all there, at any rate. Mother was weeping, of course. She wept constantly these days, trickles of tears flowing gently down her face to fall unheeded onto her bosom, perpetually replaced with more of the same. Where did all that water come from? It was a mystery to him. Michael looked ill, but then he always looked ill nowadays, a thin, pale shoot of a man. Letitia looked angry and her husband worried, but since those were their habitual expressions, James took no notice. To complete the array of his predictable relations, Patricia’s face was as blank as a slate, and Uncle Morgan was topping up his brandy glass already and it was only eleven o’clock. Lord, what a boring lot they were!

  James wondered briefly what they thought of him. Nothing, probably. He doubted any of them thought about him at all, and certainly not now. He, after all, was the only one unaffected by their impending doom, with his snug rectory and his ample tithes and no one but himself to support or to please.

  Precisely as the clock struck eleven, Sir Owen entered the room, his eye raking over the assembled Plummers, lingering only momentarily on his wife. He took his position in front of the fireplace, the fire still unlit despite the season. It was the rule now.

  “All here, I see,” Sir Owen said. “Good. I have news from Simons. He has found a buyer for the Park.” Mother gave a convulsive gulp, but Father continued without so much as blinking. He was used to it by now. “It is a Mr Fletcher, from a place called Sagborough. Near York, seemingly. Simons went up there to talk to the fellow, but I chose not to mention it to you in case nothing came of it. Simons has now talked to Fletcher and they have agreed terms. Firstly, he is prepared to pay the full price for the Park, no quibbling or caveats. He has the money, too. Simons has talked to the bank. The other consideration is that he will take the Park exactly as it is, with the furniture and art work, and will retain all the servants, apart from the few we will take with us. That is a huge relief to all of us, I am sure. He will take over the village cottages, leaving us with all our tenant farmers, and he will very generously allow us to shoot and hunt and fish on Hall land for our own table. That will please you, James. All things considered, it is an excellent agreement for us.”

  “What sort of a man is this Fletcher per
son?” Letitia said. “Please tell us that he is a gentleman.”

  Sir Owen hesitated long enough for Mother to utter a low moan.

  “He is — or was — a mercer, a highly respected man in his home town, who has now relinquished all his business ventures. He has recently remarried and his wife is a gentlewoman, so he wishes to keep her in a suitable manner. Simons tells me that Fletcher himself is only moderately educated, commensurate with his position in society, but his children have all been properly educated. His sons attended Harrow and Cambridge, and his daughters had governesses and masters of art, music, dancing and so forth. The usual things.”

  “Hmpf! Not a Whig, is he?” Lord Charles said. “Never do to have a Whig in the house, sir. M’brother would be mortified.”

  “Your brother has nothing whatsoever to do with this, Charles,” Sir Owen said tersely. “Mr Fletcher has no political allegiance, seemingly, and it would hardly matter to me if he were a screaming zealot. He has the money to buy the Park and get this family afloat again, so buy it he shall.”

  “But a mercer, Papa,” Letitia said. “The shame of it! You will not expect us to receive them, I trust.”

  Mother uttered another moan of distress.

  “I not only expect it, I shall insist upon it,” Sir Owen said. “We cannot take the man’s money and then snub him socially, and if you and your husband dislike it, Letitia, you are quite at liberty to find someone else to support you. Go and ask Charles’s brother to provide you with a house and put food on your table and educate your children. It is hardly unreasonable to expect a marquess to take care of his own brother’s family.”

  Letitia bristled. “You know perfectly well why we cannot, Papa.”

  Hoping to forestall a repetition of a very tired family argument, James said quickly, “When does Mr Fletcher want to take possession, Father?”

  “Not before January, and the weather may delay him further, but we must be out of here by Christmas, I feel.”

  “I do not know how we are all to squeeze into the Manor,” Letitia said fretfully. “It will be far too crowded. It was by no means over-large just for Charles and me, but with so many extra, and the disruption…”

  Sir Owen’s tone became even more clipped. “Patricia has already contrived the disposition of the rooms to minimize the inconvenience to you, and to repeat, if you dislike the new circumstances, then you are perfectly free to make alternative arrangements at any time.”

  “Are there young children, Papa?” Patricia’s soft voice was a striking contrast to Letitia’s shrillness and Sir Owen’s brusque tones.

  “Hmm, let me see.” He leafed through the several pages of the attorney’s letter. “The eldest daughter is married… there are two sons, grown… ah, here we are. Four younger daughters… the youngest is fourteen.”

  “Almost grown up,” Patricia said disappointedly.

  “But the older girls are not without interest. Listen to this. ‘All the daughters will have very good dowries of twenty thousand pounds apiece from their father, and the eldest, who is a rare beauty with the most charming manners, has an additional thirty from an aunt. I cannot understand why she has not been snatched up already, but dare I suggest that this presents a wonderful opportunity for Mr Michael Plummer? I do not scruple to say that the young lady will be a sensation in town, and since it is Fletcher’s intention to participate in the season next spring, it is highly recommended that your son move swiftly to secure the lady’s affections to himself.’”

  Michael snorted in disgust. “A mercer’s daughter! I should hope I am not so desperate as all that!”

  “I tell you now, Michael, and this applies to all of you who may be thinking upon similar lines,” Sir Owen said, his voice growing harsh, “I will not have this supercilious attitude from any of you. We are not so high in the instep as to refuse Fletcher’s coin, so we will treat him with every courtesy. Such men are the very backbone of England, sterling men of worth, honest and loyal and hard-working, helping to keep the country prosperous and thriving. They provide both goods and employment, and they frequently go on to become mayors and aldermen and justices of the peace and members of Parliament and even knights of the realm in time. So we will deal kindly with the Fletcher family, even if we do not choose to make intimate friends of them, and Michael, if you disdain a pretty and well-behaved young woman with fifty thousand pounds merely because her father was once in trade, then you are more foolish than I gave you credit for.”

  “Father, I beg your pardon,” Michael said, his pale cheeks flaming up at this reproof. “I spoke intemperately. I will get to know Miss Fletcher, and if she should be all that she is described, then I will consider the prospect of matrimony seriously, you have my word on that. Beyond that, I cannot undertake to venture as yet.”

  “I ask no more than that,” his father responded in genial tones. “You may find that she will do very well, and since James shows no inclination to secure the succession in your stead, and Morgan must be regarded as a confirmed bachelor at this point, I should be glad to see you settled. It would be a weight off my mind, to be sure.” He chuckled. “One of you had better make a push for the baronetcy that your great-grandfather worked so assiduously to obtain. No one wants Cousin Sydney to have it, after all this. Well now, that is all settled, and I shall write today to instruct Simons to draw up the papers. Michael, James, I should like you to stay, but the rest of you may go. Letitia, Charles, you will dine with us tonight?”

  “Thank you, Papa,” Letitia said colourlessly.

  One by one they ambled out of the room, too well-bred to whisper to each other until the door was closed behind them, but James knew that Mother and Letitia would have their heads together before they reached the morning room. Uncle Morgan refilled his brandy glass before he left.

  Sir Owen poured three small glasses of port, of identical amounts, and handed them around.

  “I suppose it is useless to ask whether you might reconsider before taking such an irrevocable step,” Michael said.

  “Quite useless,” Sir Owen said.

  “If the Park could be let instead of sold, if only for Mother’s sake…”

  “My mind is quite made up, Michael. We still have the Manor, after all, which is the Plummers’ ancestral seat. The Park means nothing to us — an extravagant monstrosity built on vanity, which I shall be glad to be rid of.”

  “It is our family home,” Michael said. “We grew up here, and Patricia was born here. Mother adores the place.”

  Sir Owen said nothing, for the arguments had been gone over a hundred times already.

  “This is my fault,” Michael said glumly, and that, too, had been said a hundred… a thousand times.

  “It is not your fault, brother,” James said, before their father could speak. “No one blames you, not in the slightest. It was not to be, that was all.”

  “But if I had done what was expected of me—”

  “You would have been desperately unhappy,” James said. “Let the past go, Michael. What is done is done. You will all move back to the Manor, the Fletcher family will fill this house, by the sound of it, and we will all grow accustomed to the change.”

  James and Michael walked to the rectory together, as was their wont after any family gathering, so that Michael could relieve his mind of its accumulated grievances and James could soothe his brother’s restless spirit. So it had been since they were barely out of leading strings, and so it would no doubt be as they descended into old age. There being only two years between them, and having suffered the indignities of tutors, school and university more or less in tandem, they were as close as any two brothers could be.

  “Will they be dreadfully vulgar?” Michael said. “They are bound to be, I suppose. It cannot be otherwise.”

  “The father, possibly,” James said, “but the rest of them will be perfectly genteel.”

  “How can you say so? You cannot possibly know that.”

  “Unless matters are very much amiss at Harr
ow and Cambridge, the sons will be gentlemanlike, and the daughters have no doubt had the best governesses the north of England can provide. The stepmother is a gentlewoman, according to Simons. So that leaves only Mr Fletcher himself.”

  “The mercer,” Michael said in sepulchral tones. “Chadwell Park occupied by a man in trade. It is beyond belief.”

  “Formerly in trade,” James said patiently. “He is retired now, and wants to see his family rise in society. Such men are everywhere, Michael. Naval men return to shore with fortunes in their pockets, the East India Company is turning out nabobs by the score and men of industry turn their mills and manufactories into cold, hard gold. Meanwhile, the sons of the aristocracy lavish their inherited fortunes on mistresses, horses and games of chance, or in our case on a grandiose country house in the Palladian style. Are we to spurn those who have risen to fortune by the sweat of their own brow? Our own ancestors were no better, they just got their foot in the door a few centuries earlier, that is all. The Fletchers may not talk quite as we do, or know how to bow to a duke, but they are not to be despised on that account.”

  “Ah, there speaks the man of the cloth,” Michael said.

  “I hope I would say as much if I were not ordained,” James said. “I shall not despise the Fletchers, at all events. I shall judge them by their actions, and at least they will bring fresh faces to our stale society. They will liven us up, I am sure, and if the eldest daughter is all Simons describes her to be, with fifty thousand pounds to her name, well, I have a very pretty little rectory that she may be mistress of, if she wishes.”

  “You would not marry one of the mercer’s daughters,” Michael said, although he said it half as a question.

  “Why should I not?”

  Michael spun round to face him, grabbing his arm in a painful grip. “Because if you had been minded to marry an heiress, you could have done so any time this past two years and spared us the grief… the humiliation of giving up our home. But then you have never cared about the Park, have you? You do not lie awake at night wondering how we will survive the shame. You do not dread seeing strangers in our home. You do not have to struggle every minute to appear not to mind. Damnation, James, you have not the least sensibility.”