“I found them trying to nick biscuits from the kitchen,” Adam said, explaining his and the children’s tardiness. “We are ready now, though. Aren’t we, children?” He raised his eyebrows at them both, then pointed at the ground next to Elaine. “Remember what I told you.”
“No running off until all the guests are come,” Nancy said cheerfully before moving to where he had pointed. “And curtsy my best every time.”
Adam nodded and then looked to William, who had also hurried to step into place. “And?”
“Behave like a gentleman.” William puffed out his chest in a manner which would have made Elaine laugh had anxiety released its strangling grip upon her.
After bestowing an approving smile on both children, Adam took up his place on the other side of Elaine. “I saw a carriage coming up the drive before I thought to check the kitchen for the pair of them,” he said while brushing off the sleeves of his coat. “Your guests will arrive in moments.”
Elaine nodded but found herself with nothing to say. Her throat had gone dry.
He leaned in closer, though he kept himself facing slightly away from her. “Miss Chapple, I must tell you how lovely you are today.”
Her eyes widened and she turned to him, a protest on her lips, but she saw people coming through the doors and into the garden. It wasn’t the time for him to tease her in such a way, and it was likely best if she did not respond. Though his words, however false they might be, proved to return some of her missing confidence.
They both greeted her guests, Adam making certain to reintroduce everyone in a way that did not really sound like an introduction, helping Elaine to save face. It was as though he had heard her furiously trying to recall names as people came toward her. Everyone bowed, curtsied, and then went into the lawn near the garden where rugs had been spread and tables laid out for the picnic.
When the last of the invited guests appeared, mother, father, and three children, Elaine dismissed William and Nancy to play with the guests’ children. She moved to take Adam’s arm, but he stepped to the side as though he had not realized her intention.
“Miss Chapple, I hope the afternoon proves successful for you.” Adam bowed. He walked away without her, directly to the other adults in the party. Perhaps it was for the best. In order to avoid gossip.
Elaine tucked a strand of hair back behind her ear and into her bonnet. Everything depended upon how these people, her new social peers, took to her company and her hospitality. The situation was reminiscent of when she worked to establish herself as a seamstress in Ipswich. She had written her own advertisements to post in windows and on walls wherever people would allow it, and she visited the draper so he might tell his customers of her services. Then she posted letters of reference, mostly begged from her father’s patrons. Slowly, ladies had come to speak to her about gowns for companions or daughters, nieces, wards, and finally for themselves.
Had she been more confident all those years ago? Quite so. Because she knew once people saw the end result of her work and recognized her skills that they would trust her. In her new circumstances, no one judged her ability with a needle. They judged her.
Once Elaine settled herself upon a cushion, with her neighbors beneath the trees, she attempted to appear as serene as an untroubled pond. No ripples. No waves. Nothing, except a calm facade.
“Miss Chapple, it was such a delight to receive your invitation.” Mrs. Bartleby spoke first to her, using an elegant fan to cool herself. “My Caroline was ever so pleased. I do believe she and Nancy became fast friends this past Tuesday.”
“Nancy has spoken of little else since your visit.” Elaine tried to encompass all her guests as she spoke. “The children have worried over making friends. A change such as they have been through can be most disconcerting.”
“Of course, of course.” Mrs. Linville, a woman with four children of her own, nodded sagely. “My dear husband inherited his estate six years ago. We are originally from Saxmundham. My sons took delight in coming nearer to the sea, but they were most shy when introduced to the other children.”
“But see how splendidly your boys have adapted,” a gentleman, Mr. Kirby, Elaine remembered, said happily. “And the finest cricket players I have seen in many a year.” Mrs. Linville accepted the compliment graciously and the conversation went to the games of children for a time.
Elaine did not relax. One round of conversation through, with hardly a word said by her, did not yet count as a victory. Not in her circumstances. When the moment was right, she made an observation on the sea, and admitted she still had not been to see it.
“But you came from Ipswich,” Mr. Massey said, all surprise. “That is near enough for a jaunt to the water and back. Is it not?” He leaned back against the tree, looking in the direction of the designated cricket field. Most of the gentlemen continued to peer that way with interest.
Elaine saw no danger in answering that question truthfully. “Yes, of course. I never took the opportunity, I am afraid. Before Ipswich, I lived in London. There were no sea views for me there, either.”
“My dear, you must try sea bathing, and as soon as possible.” Mrs. Kirby told her, leaning forward as though to impart a great secret. “It will positively set you up for life. I go at least once a year, and I am always better for it.”
Mrs. Bartleby shuddered. “I myself cannot abide the water. Think of all the things in there with you. Fish, mollusks, and crustations. Swimming about, without a care for you, and unseen. It chills me to even think upon it.”
The merits of sea bathing were debated for several minutes, and then Mrs. Kirby turned to Elaine with a deep frown. “Miss Chapple, did you say you came from London and then Ipswich? What an enormous change. What caused your family to make it?”
All eyes turned to Elaine. Looking from one person to another, she could see their curiosity. Most likely it had been talked of, the oddity of a single woman coming into their midst with two children and no family of which to speak. She looked to where Adam stood, leaning against one of the trees. He had been staring out at the boys playing cricket, too, until that moment. Adam met her gaze steadily and gave her a slow, most deliberate, nod.
His encouragement, however small, gave her the ability to speak. “I am afraid it was the loss of my family, Mrs. Kirby, which prompted the removal from London. My mother passed away when I was very young, and my father lived in London to practice his trade. I was sent to school. When my father fell ill and died, five years ago now, I could not possibly continue in that town.”
“You poor dear. Had you family in Ipswich?” Mrs. Bartleby asked, a hand covering her heart. “I cannot even imagine how difficult that must have been for you.”
“I had no family, Mrs. Bartleby.” When Elaine made that statement, there were a few gasps and all the attention was upon her rather than the children playing on either side of their location. “I knew from rumors that Ipswich had need of someone with my skills.” It would be better for her to admit to her past than allow someone more spiteful to do the deed, wouldn’t it? “I understood that there was no seamstress considered of fine enough talent to sew for the upper classes.” At last she had revealed her past; the secret freed in the air and never hidden again whatever she may wish.
She looked to Adam, afraid she had bungled the whole thing, only to find him smiling at her. His bright blue eyes conveyed nothing but approval. Tentatively, she returned his friendly expression.
“A seamstress,” Mrs. Kirby murmured, her head tilted back as she surveyed Elaine carefully. “How very…interesting.”
“Indeed, I realize how strange it must seem.” Elaine gathered her courage about her and lifted a plate of sandwiches to offer those nearest her, though she had rather use it as a shield to hide behind. “I am grateful I had the skills and training necessary, as without them I do not know what might have happened to me when my father died. A woman is quite dependent upon a man to care for her. With no father, I had either to marry a man I barely knew, g
o to the workhouse, or worse. My ability to ply a trade saved my life.”
Though a couple of the women took a sandwich, their eyes remained riveted upon her, and when she finished speaking a long silence stretched through the group.
Adam finally broke it. “I count my blessings, Miss Chapple. I cannot imagine my own sisters in such a difficult position, forced to care for themselves. What you had to do was quite courageous.” The last word drifted in the air a moment before Mrs. Bartleby started to nod.
“Most courageous.” The matron took a tiny bite of her sandwich, eyes unfocused in thought.
“My father died when I was young.” The sudden pronouncement came from Mrs. Massey, prompting Elaine to offer her an understanding smile. “My mother had to give the raising of each of us to uncles and aunts, until she remarried. If she had not met my stepfather, I cannot tell how long that arrangement would have lasted before our family tired of us.” She shuddered. “Mother always said she had never felt so helpless. Making one’s way in the world, without any help at all, would challenge any of us.”
“How did you come to be the guardian of two children, alone as you were?” Mrs. Hayden asked before taking a large bite of a small strawberry. She leaned forward, as though nothing could be of more interest to her. “I have five children, and I can hardly manage them with the help of servants and husband.” There were a few understanding nods and chuckles at that announcement.
“William was apprenticed to my father. When I left London, I could not leave him behind. The streets are teeming with orphans, I am certain you have all seen evidence of that. He came with me. In Ipswich, Nancy joined us. I am guardian to both of them.” Thank goodness that had been made legal as soon as Mr. Tuttle-Kirk questioned her about the children in her care. “The late Mr. Gillensford’s kindness to us will mean a wonderful future for both of them. William will go to school in January, and Nancy will be given every opportunity a young lady can have.”
It was bold, to state such things about her plans and the future. But perhaps boldness would serve her well. The truth always did, in the past, and no one had made a disparaging comment yet.
“Uncle Gillensford was a wise man,” Adam said, bringing everyone’s attention back to him. He was looking down at the ground, not disguising his amused expression. What humor had he found in that moment? Elaine’s future and reputation were at stake and he appeared as though he remembered an old joke. “I respect his wishes in regard to Miss Chapple. We will all see great things come from her, I imagine.”
His words settled around her heart. They were not eloquent, or flattering. She sensed he spoke the truth, and his confidence in her future gave her comfort.
Mr. Kirby thumped the ground with his fist. “Here, here. Your late uncle was forever surprising us with his ventures and contributions to our community, but he was always right. If he has placed Miss Chapple in our midst, I venture to suppose we will all in time be grateful for it. Now. I have been watching those boys.” He pointed to the field. “And they haven’t the first idea of proper pitching technique. Gentlemen, should we go and see to their instruction?”
The men mostly rumbled their agreement and stood, taking leave of their wives, to give their attention to the boys’ game. Elaine bit her lip to keep from laughing at the sight. Adam shot a wink at her, over the heads of the other ladies, before joining the migration.
“Did you know, I have heard talk of creating a club especially for playing cricket? Here, in Orford.” Mrs. Kirby said with a shake of her head. “Can you imagine? Grown men, forming clubs, to play such a game.”
“There are cricket clubs already, are there not? Hambledon, I think, boasts a rather notorious one.” Mrs. Hayden took up the subject with disapproval. “There ought to be more women’s clubs. The gentlemen are forever looking for excuses to leave the house. I think I should want one, now and again, besides visiting days.”
“That is what sewing circles are for,” Mrs. Bartleby stated with a smart nod. “And charities. Miss Chapple, would you be interested in joining our sewing circle? We meet every other Wednesday and take turns hostessing.” The ladies all looked at Elaine, their expressions kind, perhaps still a little curious, but not one of them appeared to disapprove of the invitation.
Had they no further questions for her? No judgment to pass? Somehow, despite all of Adam’s warnings, had Elaine found acceptance amid this group of middle-class ladies? Of course, she did expect the most resistance to come from Adam’s family and their peers—but if she had support and the friendships of women such as those gathered around her, everything might turn out all right.
“I would be delighted to join you.” Elaine’s pronouncement made, the conversation shifted to the delightful refreshments and the exchange of stories about the silly behaviors of their children.
It was as though a burden fell from Elaine’s shoulders, and she managed to quite enjoy the afternoon.
The long afternoon in the sun meant Adam delayed his usual work with the steward. They had started drafting a new budget for the estate, one Adam thought would meet with Elaine’s immediate approval, given her personal attitude toward her fellow living creatures. The financial paperwork was nearly ready and keeping the main purpose of the change in finances a surprise proved difficult. After watching the way Elaine handled the picnic, and the neighbors’ curiosity, Adam firmly believed she deserved every good thing that could possibly come to her.
“Hadn’t you better be getting home, Mr. Gillensford?” the old steward asked, packing up the papers upon his desk in his usual methodical way. “My wife will not keep my dinner warm much longer. I must be on my way.”
Adam rubbed at his forehead as he checked the time. “Is it that late already? I am sorry to have kept you, Mr. Yates.” Adam started clearing away his portion of the work, setting books in their proper places. “Thank you for all your assistance today, and every day since Miss Chapple has come.”
“It is a true honor to be in her employment.” The steward bowed. “And working with you to ensure her time as mistress is long and fruitful has been an unexpected pleasure. Good evening, Mr. Gillensford.”
The compliment, paid without preamble or pomp, gave Adam pause. “Good evening,” he said, the words coming slowly. Having never toiled so closely with a man of the steward’s rank and importance to a household, Adam found the experience refreshing and somewhat invigorating. The long hours poring over account books and farmer’s reports ought to have been tedious, but he left the office every day with a renewed sense of purpose and accomplishment.
A man of his birth, finding joy in putting documents and finances in order, was unheard of. As a third son, no one had taken the time to train him in estate management. Even if he had found a wealthy wife, the likelihood of him having an estate the size of Tertium Park to manage was unlikely.
When he had finished putting things to rights in the office, Adam blew out the lamps and shut the door quietly behind him. For an instant, standing in the darkened hall, he considered finding Elaine to say good night. Perhaps he could tell her how wonderfully she had handled her new neighbors, how well she stated the facts of her past.
That might only sound condescending, though. Best to leave it alone. She had given no real indication she wished him in her company, except for making certain of his availability during the picnic in case she had need of his superior social knowledge. Seeking her out at such a late hour, without invitation, would be an overstep.
Adam collected his things from Graham, then went out to find his horse waiting for him. His late uncle’s servants were among the best trained he had ever seen, which almost amused him. He knew for a fact his uncle had rarely hired anyone brought up to household employment. Graham had been collected after a war, Mrs. Mayworth from a workhouse, some of the younger staff from orphanages and poor houses. Peter Gillensford and his wife had collected their staff as others collected lost coins in the street, then provided training and patience, and even excellent references to
those who chose to find employment elsewhere.
Had Elaine learned of this legacy yet? Would anyone think to tell her?
Adam mounted the horse fetched to the front of the house for him, and he started his ride down the drive. Where the path began to curve away from the house, he glanced over his shoulder—and immediately brought the horse to a stop.
Elaine walked along the walls of the house, her head down, around the outside of the gardens on the east wing. What was she doing, out all alone, so near sunset? Though it was not dangerous to be about in the fading light, he could not help but feel she should not be unaccompanied.
He needed to find her a companion. Someone who would remind her to put on her bonnet before stepping out of doors.
The horse took a few steps forward, then to the side, as Adam watched Elaine move with slow purpose through the grass, her head down all the while. As though dejected.
He had no business going to her. She likely had no thought of seeing him again that evening. Yet he could not leave her alone without knowing if something troubled her. He turned the horse in that direction and nudged the beast into a trot.
When he grew near enough for her to hear his approach, Elaine raised her head and stopped her walk. She raised her hand in greeting and bestowed one of her most glowing smiles upon him.
“Mr. Gillensford, I did not know you were still about.”
Gladdened by the smile, as each she gave felt like a gift conferred, he answered it with one of his own and dismounted. He kept the reins in his hand and approached her. “I have kept myself busy with Mr. Yates. I lost track of time.” He tilted his head to the side, taking in her appearance with an aim to discover the state of her mind. “I am surprised to see you out here. It grows late. Is anything the matter?”
Elaine started to shake her head, the warm glow of the setting sun at her back giving her hair a rosy halo. But then she stilled and bit her bottom lip. “I do not suppose anything is necessarily wrong. My mind is not at rest, though, and I thought a walk might help.”
His Unexpected Heiress (Entangled Inheritance Book 2) Page 13
