The Buxton Chronicles

By Victoria Chatham

1907 or Cold Gold

A gold mining town in northern California is hardly the place for a member of the English aristocracy. When Lady Serena Buxton arrives in Cold Creek, she is shocked to find her husband, Lord Buxton, is missing. Everyone in town treats her as if she is already a widow. With no husband and no money, what is a lady to do?

1913 or On Borrowed Time

Lord and Lady Buxton’s orderly lives are upset by Pinkerton Agent Stuart Montgomery’s unexpected arrival at their estate in England.

Montgomery is investigating suspicious deaths at an American aviation company. Will the Buxtons return with him to America and help him close the case? Or is this an excuse for Montgomery to renew a potentially scandalous association with Serena?

1918 or Shell Shocked

Lord Randolph Buxton is fighting at the front during the closing months of World War 1. Lady Serena manages Buxton Hall which has been converted into a military hospital. When Randolph is reported missing in action, Serena is heartbroken but carries on with day-to-day duties while she awaits news of her husband. And then Randolph comes home.

She married for love, but she does not know the man who returns to her. Will she be strong enough to hold together everything she most cherishes?

• Language: English
• Publisher: BWL Publishing Inc.
• Release date: Jul 25, 2015
• ISBN: 9781771454858

Victoria Chatham

Being born in Bristol, England, Victoria Chatham grew up in an area rife with the elegance of Regency architecture. This, along with the novels of Georgette Heyer, engendered in her an abiding interest in the period with its style and manners and is one where she feels most at home.Apart from her writing, Victoria is an avid reader of anything that catches her interest, but especially Regency romance. She also teaches introductory creative writing. Her love of horses gets her away from her computer to volunteer at Spruce Meadows, a world class equestrian centre near Calgary, Alberta, where she currently lives.

Book preview

Chapter One

Cold Creek, California

March, 1907

She should have let him know of her arrival. She could have telegraphed him before she left San Francisco.

But then, Lady Serena Buxton reflected, when had she ever done anything expected of her?

She sat back against the velvet upholstered railway carriage seat, thankful to have the compartment to herself. The wheels hummed steadily along the rails but changed to a rattle as the train crossed a trestle bridge. She peered out of the window for her first sight of Cold Creek, then sighed with disappointment at the unprepossessing sprawl of buildings along each side of the creek that gave the town its name.

Beyond the town the jagged peaks of snow covered mountains reached up into a clear blue sky that seemed to go on forever. It couldn’t have been more picture-perfect. A moment later, as she stepped down from the train, she wished for it to be a picture as a bitter wind swept down from those snowy slopes. It sucked the air from her lungs, making her gasp. The cold bit into her cheeks as viciously as a hungry dog. Her eyes watered and Serena dabbed the resulting tears away with the edge of her sable wrap.

Dammit, Randolph, why couldn’t your gold mine be somewhere warm? she muttered.

She ducked her head against the wind and scurried across the empty platform to the stationmaster’s office, almost tripping on the doorstep in her hurry to escape the cold.

A glowing potbellied stove stood in the center of the room. Wisps of black smoke leaked from the stack that reached up through the roof. Serena ignored the sooty haze and moved into the circle of warmth the stove provided and peeled off her gloves. Her fingers were stiff with cold and she held them over the stove top until feeling returned. Only then did she begin to relax.

A quick glance around the room assured her she would find no more comfort than this. Weather stained windows, with solid wooden benches placed beneath them, faced each other across the bare plank floor. One window offered a view of the station platform and from the other, Serena could see a row of what could only be business premises. The street that lay between showed signs of much use, being deeply scored with wheel ruts. Sunlight glinted off the ice-encrusted edges, causing Serena to blink in the glare.

Can I help you, Ma’am?

Serena looked over her shoulder at the man who emerged from behind the ticket counter. From his clothes and cap she deduced he must be the stationmaster and smiled at him.

When I have warmed myself a little, she replied, still holding her hands over the stove.

You chose a mighty cold day for traveling, if you don’t mind me saying so.

She heard the curiosity in his voice. Traveling in mid-March is not by choice, I assure you. It’s more of a necessity, if anything. She rubbed her hands together then stamped her feet a little.

I’ve got some coffee going back here, if you’d like some. The man jerked his thumb towards the area behind the counter.

That’s very kind of you but no, thank you. Serena feared the coffee would be as black as tar, very strong and not at all to her liking. I would, however, like directions to the Eldorado Hotel. Is it far?

It’s across the street behind us and down on the end of the next block.

I don’t suppose there’s any form of transport available to take me there? Serena held her hands over the stove again.

The stationmaster laughed. You could walk there by the time I get the station hitch harnessed or start the automobile.

Then I shall just have to walk very quickly.

The door opened again, letting in an icy blast of air followed by a lanky boy dragging a loaded trolley.

And here’s my luggage. Serena eyed the piled trunks, hat boxes and valises. These I would like delivered, if you please.

I’ll take care of that right away and, if you have no objection, I’ll have young Joe here walk you to the Eldorado.

Thank you, Mr...?

Wilding, Ma’am. George Wilding. George tipped his cap.

Well, Mr. Wilding, I thank you again. Serena turned to the boy who twisted his cap nervously in his hands. Are you sure you don’t mind walking me to the hotel, Joe? It is a very cold day to be outside.

Joe blushed. I d-don’t m-mind at all, he stuttered, overcome with embarrassment at being made the object of her attention. If you’ll c-come w-with me I’ll show you the way.

George watched the young woman cross the street. Joe stumbled along beside her, trying to keep up. Her long, athletic stride made the skirt of her dark green traveling suit swirl about her legs. He’d noticed the wisp of dark hair that escaped the confines of her fur hat and her pink cheeks and clear gray eyes certainly brightened his day. No doubt about it, she was one good looking woman.

When they were out of sight he crossed to the trolley. He ran his hand over the top of a valise and eyed the trunks they perched on. He’d never seen Louis Vuitton luggage, but he sure knew the name and what it likely cost. Her unmistakably English accent, and everything else about her, spoke of a quality he normally didn’t see passing through his station.

Why would she be traveling alone, and what did she want in Cold Creek? He lifted one of the luggage tags.

Lady Serena Buxton, Eldorado Hotel, Cold Creek, California, he read.

He immediately recognized the name and his heart sank. He turned the tag over to make sure he hadn’t misread the label.

Lady Serena Buxton, Buxton Hall, Stoneton, Gloucestershire, England.

Aw, hell, he muttered. Now there’ll be trouble.

Chapter Two

Serena walked into the foyer of the hotel and stamped the snow off her boots on the mat inside the door. She turned to the young man who had accompanied her from the station.

Thank you for walking me here, Joe. The boy shivered inside his thin jacket and she withdrew a dollar from her purse. Perhaps a warm drink will help revive you before you return to your duties at the station.

Joe bobbed his head, his face still carrying a blush at her attention. He backed away and then slipped out the door.

Serena looked around the lobby in which she stood. The antlered heads of moose and deer decorating the walls reminded her of a Scottish hunting lodge. The setting seemed so familiar and nothing at all like the rustic accommodation she feared awaited her, it immediately put her at ease.

To her right a long reception desk fronted a wall filled with cubby holes. A surprisingly elegant stairway curved up to the second floor, the polished handrails surely the work of well-trained cleaning staff. To her left an open doorway led into a large, comfortable looking sitting room. Stylish tables and easy chairs sat on a colorful rug. Logs crackled, bright with flames, in a wide fireplace. Chilled from her walk, she moved toward the welcoming fire and held her hands towards the blaze.

Now that she had arrived, uncertainty danced in her stomach. Would Randolph be pleased to see her? He’d asked her to be patient and remain at Buxton Hall while he attended to his mining interests in Cold Creek. Only she wasn’t patient. She’d missed him terribly when he’d toured his holdings in South Africa, then insisted on traveling with him when he went to Australia. They had only been at home for a short while before Cold Creek needed his attention.

Their parting in England had been nothing less than acrimonious. One last trip, he told her, then that’s it. They’d settle down and start a family.

Serena sighed as she recalled their heated argument. She wanted children so much but Randolph appeared to have no joy in the prospect of producing an heir, even for the continuance of his family line. For as much as she loved him, did she love him enough to give up hope of ever having a child?

The core of the argument gnawed at her, almost breaking her resolve. She really should have telegraphed him from San Francisco. But, in spite of the devastation left by the earthquake a year ago, the city diverted her. Two weeks and dwindling funds later, she boarded the train for Cold Creek.

Had she really sought diversion, or merely dragged her feet to avoid the inevitable awkwardness of their first meeting? Remembering how they parted, she wasn’t sure now that he would be pleased to see her.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of soft footsteps on the carpet and the swish of skirts. Serena turned to see a neatly dressed woman eyeing her curiously.

I’m sorry, I didn’t hear the bell, the woman said. May I help you?

I do hope so. I’m here to join my husband. I am Lady Serena Buxton. Could I be shown to his rooms, please?

You mean Randolph?

Well, yes, of course I mean Randolph. Lord Randolph Buxton. Serena frowned at the impertinent use of her husband’s name. Is something wrong?

Lady Buxton, I think you should sit down. The woman appeared agitated as she indicated a chair by the fire. I’ll get us some tea.

The chill that traveled the length of Serena’s spine had nothing to do with the temperature outside the hotel. In spite of her wrap she shivered as she sank into the chair. The expression on the woman’s face did not bode well. What had happened? Could Randolph be ill or worse yet, lost in the mountains or maybe even dead? No, she couldn’t go there, would not even consider that eventuality as possible.

In a few moments the woman returned, carrying a tray which she set down on a side-table and then seated herself in the chair beside it.

I’ll just let the tea steep a little, she said. I’m Lucy Vanderberg. My husband and I own this hotel. We have a small but select clientele, which is just as we like it. We didn’t know about Randolph’s title, but that would explain his manners.

Yes, he can be very personable. Serena’s smile hid her impatience for news of him. She now wanted nothing more than to get their first meeting over and done with. Do you know what time he might come in?

The question seemed to upset Lucy. Her hands shook as she lifted the teapot, but she steadied them and began to pour.

Unfortunately, Lucy said slowly, handing the cup and saucer to Serena, no one seems to know where Randolph is. He’s been missing for the past week.

A week? Serena’s eyes widened in alarm and her hand trembled as she hastily replaced her cup in the saucer. Hot tea slopped over the rim of the cup and a drop splashed onto her hand. She gave a mew of surprise and flicked it off. What is being done? Have search parties been out looking for him?

All that can be done, has been done, Lucy assured her. Sheriff Johnson’s problem is that no one knows exactly where Randolph was, or who he might have been with that day. All that is known, is that he went to the mine office in the morning and then, well, he just disappeared.

Serena sprang to her feet and paced in front of the fire. She clenched her hand into a fist and pressed her knuckles against her lips. Why had she stayed in San Francisco? Why couldn’t she just have swallowed her pride and come straight to Cold Creek?

No one just disappears, she said stubbornly. Are his belongings still here?

Lucy nodded. Everything, and his bill is paid to the end of this month. We thought he might have gone to Yreka, but nobody fitting his description has been seen there. And if he did go to Yreka he could only have gone by train and George says he didn’t buy a ticket.

Serena crossed her arms and turned to face Lucy, her mind whirling. How many times had Randolph just dropped everything to go on a business trip? What if he walked through the door in five, or ten minutes time? She had to be here when he returned. So you won’t object to me moving into his rooms?

Lucy hesitated. Well, of course, if you really are Randolph’s wife then...

What do you mean? Serena demanded. There is no question of my not being Randolph’s wife and if you require proof I can satisfy that as soon as my luggage is delivered.

Lady Buxton, Lucy stood up. You must understand that Randolph never talked about having a wife, or indeed any family. However, if you are who you say you are, then I would not want to upset him. But, if he has not returned by the end of the month, you will either have to pay your own way or move out.

Serena swallowed and put her hand on her stomach to quell the butterflies dancing there. Paying her own way would be another problem altogether. Lucy walked to the entrance of the sitting room and then turned to her.

I’ll have Min take you up to Randolph’s rooms so that you can refresh yourself and rest a little after your journey. Come down for dinner when you are ready.

Serena slumped into the chair. Her stomach churned and roiled at the thought of food, making her feel quite nauseous. Damn her temper. If not for her fury at Randolph leaving her again, she would be safely at home in Buxton Hall with a secretary to arrange funds for her or her personal banker happy to indulge her financial requests. The last situation she expected did not include Randolph not being in Cold Creek.

Missee?

Her thoughts were interrupted by the soft voice and she looked up. She had not heard a sound, yet a slim Chinese girl with a face as round and smooth as a peach stood before her. The girl’s eyes were as dark as olives and she wore her hair pulled back in one long, thick braid. She could have been sixteen or sixty.

Please come this way.

Are you Min? Serena asked.

Yes, Missee.

Serena, almost mesmerized by the way the girl moved so silently and gracefully, followed her out of the sitting room and up the stairs. Min stopped outside a solid wood door and opened it. She stood to one side and indicated with a gentle sweeping motion of her hand that Serena should enter. Serena did so and immediately felt at home.

Advancing into the room she breathed in Randolph’s particular scent, so lost in the familiarity of it that she did not hear the door close behind her. Tall leather riding boots stood sentry beside a deep wing chair, as if waiting for their owner to step into them. A heavy overcoat lay over one arm of the chair. On the table beside it a stack of papers. slipped to one side, now spread across the surface in an untidy heap. All indications of normalcy were countered by Randolph’s absence.

Serena moved into the bedroom where the linens on the bed smelled clean and fresh. Pillows were piled against the headboard and the coverlet had been turned down, revealing crisp white sheets. She opened the dresser drawers and found folded shirts, long johns and knitwear. They were familiar, everyday things that would have been in Randolph’s dresser at home. When she looked in the wardrobe, the pungent aroma of cigars and Randolph’s favorite cedar wood cologne almost overwhelmed her. She rifled through the suits and pants hanging there, fingered the rough fabric of a tweed jacket. Something protruded from the breast pocket and she pulled it out.

An old, hand-tinted photograph showed her sitting in the rose arbor at Buxton Hall. She ran her fingers over it, remembered it being taken. Maybe she’d been wrong. Maybe he did love her. If not, why would he carry a photograph of her? She pushed it back into the pocket. Would he ever wear that jacket again? She dismissed the thought, quelled the dread that rose in her heart. If he didn’t come back, what would she do?

His razor, shaving brush and soap were arranged tidily on the washstand which stood against the wall on the far side of the room. Randolph had never been this tidy. Who had folded and hung his clothes and arranged his toiletries? Along with most men of his ilk, a valet or someone in the household took care of his domestic arrangements. Had Min been looking after him? And if not Min, then who? Serena feared the answer but she had to know.

A knock on the door stopped her from investigating further.

Come in, she called.

Min entered the room carrying a steaming kettle in one hand, and a water jug in the other.

Missus Lucy say if you need bath, must book time tomorrow. Bath house always busy.

Thank you, Min. That will be something to consider. When my luggage arrives will you please see that it is sent straight up?

Yes, Missee. Min turned to go but Serena stopped her.

Did you look after my husband, Min? His things are so tidy.

Min nodded her head. He good man, Missee.

Yes, Serena said softly. Regardless of what had transpired between them that she could not deny. He is indeed a good man.

Min left and Serena removed her jacket and opened the neck of her blouse. She poured hot water into the bowl on the washstand and swirled it around to cool it a little before splashing it over her face and neck. She would have preferred a bath, but this would have to do. At least she could rearrange her hair after having it crushed under her hat for so long.

She pulled out her pins and let her long locks loose, ran her fingers through them and shook her head. Drat. The valise containing her brush and other toiletries had yet to be delivered. She picked up Randolph’s silver-backed brush from the washstand and drew the bristles through the strands of her hair, enjoying the comfort in using something belonging to him. She continued to brush with half closed eyes, counting the strokes as she did so. When she reached one hundred she straightened up, tossed her hair back and twisted and pinned and tweaked it into the popular Gibson-girl style.

Re-buttoning her blouse, Serena considered donning her jacket but thought she may just be warm enough with the waistcoat that completed her outfit. She would have liked a total change of clothes and, as it had only been a short walk to the Eldorado, she expected that her luggage would have been delivered by now. Crossing to the window, she pulled the lace curtain aside. A veranda wrapped around the second storey of the hotel and she had to stand on tiptoe to see across it into the street.

It reminded her of Kalgoorlie, in Australia, only then Randolph had been beside her. She had complained bitterly at their dry-as-dust surroundings but Randolph had laughed and kissed the top of her head, reminding her that he had warned her of what to expect. But to spend another year alone when he left for Cold Creek? No, she would not accept that.

If only Randolph’s arms were around her now, she thought, and sighed as she rested her head against the frosty window pane. Movement in the street below caught her eye. She recognized Joe’s lanky frame jumping down from a carrier’s cart just pulling up outside the hotel.

Between them, Joe and the driver unloaded her luggage. In moments her things were being brought in and set where she indicated on the floor. She glanced at the wall clock and saw she still had time to change for dinner. Not sure that she could face food, she knew she needed to be sensible and eat what she could. If Randolph didn’t return, she might not be eating at all.

But did people dress for dinner in Cold Creek? She opened the trunk and removed her favorite off-the-shoulder evening gown. In truth, the outfit she wore would be much warmer. With a sigh she draped the gown over the lid of the trunk. Unpacking, she decided, could wait until after dinner.

She left her room and walked along the shadowy corridor, thankful for the dim glow of the electric lighting. As she descended the stairs to the lobby, Lucy Vanderberg emerged from a door further down the hallway beyond the reception desk.

Ah, Lady Buxton, Lucy said. The dining room is back here. Please come this way.

Serena followed her between the tables, ignoring the curious glances she received from guests who were already seated. Lucy took her to the table closest to the fireplace and pulled out a chair for her guest.

I thought you might appreciate the extra warmth.

You’re very kind. Serena sat down, opened her napkin and laid it across her lap. The table linens appeared as well starched and laundered as those at Buxton Hall, suggesting some hope of a decent meal. The butterflies fluttering in her stomach settled down, replaced with the first real pangs of hunger at the sight of a loaded plate set before her. Perfectly cooked filet of beef accompanied by small Parisienne potatoes, braised celery and lima beans were followed by a dessert of Neapolitan ice cream, coffee and tiny finger cakes. The cakes were quite delicious, light and fluffy and spiced with a hint of cinnamon and nutmeg. Serena reluctantly finished the last one and pushed her plate away as a dark-haired man stepped into the dining room.

His gaze swept the room and came to rest on her. He walked towards her, his long legs carrying him quickly across the carpeted floor. A smile hovered on his lips.

Lady Buxton?

Yes. Serena shook the hand he held out to her. Should I know you?

Not yet. May I? He pulled out a chair and, at Serena’s nod, sat down. I’m Douglas King, manager at Cold Creek’s Number One mine. I worked with your husband.

Serena folded her napkin and laid it on the table. You said ‘worked’. Does that mean you think he’s dead?

Douglas King shrugged and the casual lift of his shoulder immediately irritated her.

I’d like to think not, he said, but unfortunately it’s the most likely explanation for his disappearance.

Serena bit back an angry retort reminding herself that, as manager at the mine, King would probably not have time to be anything other than direct. When she spoke, her voice held a quiet but firm tone. I can’t think of anything less likely than Randolph just disappearing.

She watched King carefully. At first he did not meet her gaze, but when he did his glance slid quickly away, the moment covered with an inane remark she completely ignored as something in the back of his eyes raised her awareness. Her intuition told her this man would not be likely to tell her the truth, whatever it may be.

Be that as it may, in a place like Cold Creek anything can happen to anybody.

So what has been done to find him? Serena rested her hands on her lap but clasped her fingers tightly together to hide her apprehension.

Sheriff Johnson made extensive enquiries around town and amongst the miners, but no one saw him leave, no one heard anything, no rumors or common talk.

What about a search outside the town?

Not during winter. King sat back in his chair. Apart from the railway line, we’re pretty well cut off until the spring thaw. The only traffic is around town and to and from the mines.

How many mines are there? A sudden hope leapt in Serena’s mind. Could Randolph be lost in one of them? She well knew his love of adventure and exploration.

There are two main shafts and a maze of subsidiary shafts at the Cold Creek mine in Pine Mountain, but the Burke mine in Storm Mountain east of town goes much deeper. If you’d like a tour of your husband’s interests I can certainly arrange it.

Thank you, Mr. King. Serena gave him a polite smile. When I have talked to your sheriff, that may be something I will consider. But tell me, you’re a long way from home too. Northeast England, if I’m not mistaken. Durham, or Newcastle-on-Tyne?

King’s brusque laugh contained no humor and Serena suppressed a shiver.

You have a good ear, he replied, not answering her question. Do you mind if I smoke?

Without waiting for her reply King took a slim, black cigarillo from his inside pocket. He placed it between his lips and quickly lit it, then looked up as Lucy Vanderberg came towards them.

I hope you found your meal satisfying, Lady Buxton. Lucy ignored King completely. Shocked at her lack of manners, Serena slid a sideways glance at King to assess his reaction to this. His lips were pressed together forming a thin, hard line. Animosity radiated from both of them, piquing Serena’s curiosity. What could have happened between them?

Most excellent, thank you, Serena made her voice light. Please give my compliments to your chef.

He’ll be pleased. He’s from San Francisco and for the main part thinks we are un-civilized heathens up here. Would you like more coffee?

No, thank you.

In that case, I’ll say good night and see you in the morning.

She walked away without speaking one word to King, who appeared not at all discomfited by being so rudely ignored. Serena turned to him again.

So how did you come to be in Cold Creek? she inquired.

The gold, same as pretty well everyone else. King sat back in his chair, giving the impression of settling in for an evening of conversation. Transferring what I knew about coal mining to gold mining came easy. Besides, I didn’t want to go on having to tug my forelock to the landed gentry at home. I’m sure you understand.

He cocked an eyebrow at her and a wry grin twisted his lips. He bordered on being insulting but Serena ignored his inference.

Well, standards everywhere are changing, she said as calmly as she could. I suppose it goes with these modern times we live in. Now, if you will excuse me, I think I shall retire for the night.

King stood and held her chair for her.

If you need any assistance, Lady Buxton, just send a message to the mine office. I’ll help you any way I can.

Serena said goodnight to him and walked away, her suspicions thoroughly aroused. How had he known of her arrival? Had George Wilding told him? Or had Joe boasted that he’d helped her? And why couldn’t King have waited until tomorrow to talk to her?

As she reached the stairway she sensed that he watched her. Holding her head high she walked steadily up the stairs but sighed with relief