Freeing Ebony

Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

Hertfordshire was not far from London. It was the country directly above it so Henry made it to his destination in less than a day. It was late afternoon when he arrived in his mother’s little village of Yearling. It was a quaint town with a single lane of shops and businesses with several narrow lanes leading off to the cottages occupied by Yearling’s residents. He wondered which one his mother had occupied when she was a girl.

Emilia had given him directions to follow so that he could find his way to what had been Vernon’s mother’s house. Margaret Shaw had been a dressmaker. She’d fitted and made Emilia’s first gown, the gown she wore to her first London ball as Miss Emilia Wentworth.

She lived in the first cottage on the left of the second lane. He kept repeating those instructions in his head. He rode past the shops and stores, he passed several curious villagers to come to the set of grassy roads that led up into the hills. Taking the second, he moved Prancer into a canter and rode him until he came to a series of little cottages. They were all the same in size and length with little stone retaining walls keeping their little vegetable gardens safe from the rabbits.

He dismounted Prancer at the first and tied his reins to the gate post. Henry took a deep breath before approaching what could be Margaret Shaw’s home. This time he knew what he was looking for. He could practically touch Celeste, he was that close. Mrs Shaw would have the information he needed, she just had to.

Three quick strides took him to Mrs Shaw’s door. He knocked twice and waited patiently for her to answer the door. A few minutes later, a woman of about sixty – five years old appeared before him. Her hair was completely silver and she was very small and plump. She wore spectacles on the end of her nose and a white, patched apron over the top of her checked, blue dress.

“Can I help you?” she asked, looking Henry up and down with a distasteful look on her face. “I’ve not the interest in donating any money to your cause, child.”

“I’m not here on behalf of a charity, ma’am,” Henry replied. “Do you perhaps remember a young girl who used to reside in this village – Emilia Wentworth?” He thought if he could invoke any fond memories, Mrs Shaw was more likely to allow him to attain the information he wanted.

Mrs Shaw’s cool, green eyes softened a little. “Yes, I do.” She nodded. “What about her? It’s been some years since I’ve seen her so I couldn’t tell you where she was.”

“She’s my mother,” Henry continued.

“Oh.” Mrs Shaw frowned. “I’d not heard that she had children. I’d only heard she’d been married off to an old Duke or Lord or something.”

“She was married to an Earl,” Henry confirmed. “But he passed away five years later. She remarried to my father, the current Earl of Ethridge, and has since had my elder four siblings and me.”

A small smile appeared on Mrs Shaw’s weathered face. “Oh, well I’m happy for her. She was a pretty, young thing. We all thought she could not be so attractive to marry into this community. She was meant for better things. Why do you come here, child?”

“Forgive me, my name is Henry Alcott. My mother gave me your address as I was hoping you could be of some assistance to me.”

“What do you want?” she asked. She had not offered to let him inside so Henry didn’t know if the story about his mother worked. She seemed quite suspicious for an old woman.

“I want some information regarding property your son, Vernon Shaw, owns.”

Mrs Shaw chuckled. Henry didn’t find anything amusing. “Vernon is not my son,” she said. “He was Margaret’s son.”