BaronAndEnchantress_PGolden-eBooks

by Golden, Paullett

  She was perfectly content in her current life, even if some of her neighbors gave her sidelong glances they had not given the year before.

  When she returned to the cottage, ah, her lovely little cottage with its wisteria and stable door, she stripped off her hat, shawl, and boots, and made for the kitchen, eager for a cuppa. She did not even mind having to stoke the dying embers until she had soot on her arm and cheek after wiping a bead of sweat. Maids and butlers were overrated. She was perfectly content making her own tea.

  Sometime later, she cradled her cup in a most unladylike manner, leaned lazily back into her chair, and watched the world go by from the comfort of her front garden. She tried to ignore the tug at her heart to be cradling her niece rather than her cup. Freya had resurrected the dream of having children. Ah, dreams.

  A memory tugged at the fabric of her mind, peeking at her from the dark corners. She was but a child in this memory. Her mother’s face, Jane’s face, looked down at her, glowing with happiness, cheeks scarlet from flushed exuberance.

  In that breathy way she had of speaking, her mother looked up to someone behind Lilith, and said, “Thank you for saying so, and thank you for calling on us.”

  Little Lilith pirouetted for the guests, two older ladies and a young woman. As Lilith curtsied, her father entered the room.

  With a brusque nod, he turned to his wife, “I told you to keep the children in the nursery. My son is sitting on the portico for all the world to see, poking at bugs. And now I find my daughter displayed like a marionette.”

  Lilith did not see the visitors’ expressions, for her eyes, wide with awe, were only for Papa, a man whose attention she sought yet was afraid to receive.

  Behind her, someone exclaimed, “We don’t mind her taking tea with us, your lordship. Lady Lilith is an angel of gentility and a divine beauty! She looks so much like her mother.”

  Before Lilith could comprehend the moment, her father grasped her arm and yanked her to him so forcefully she heard a pop and felt a sharp pain.

  As he dragged Lilith behind him, he thundered, “She looks nothing like my wife. She looks like the devil’s spawn.”

  Tossing her into the hallway with such ferocity that Lilith slid across the newly polished tiles, he stormed off to his study without taking polite leave of the guests. Lilith saw nothing but a blurred world beyond her tears and felt nothing but a throbbing pain in her shoulder until a warm embrace lifted her from the floor and rocked her.

  When the tears had been wiped from her eyes, she saw the face of her mother, the world’s most beautiful face to a little girl. She smiled, not because she was happy, but because she loved her mother, and there, staring back at her with doe-eyes, was the love of her life, soothing her aches and pains.

  “You are my gift from God, Lilith. He brought you to me Himself. Promise me you’ll always remember that.”

  Little Lilith nodded, her thumb suckled between pouting lips.

  “You’re God’s gift, and no one can take you from me.”

  The memory faded into its shadowed corner. Lilith wiped away tears she had not noticed until now. What a sight she must look, crying into her teacup on the front stoop!

  Oh, Mama, she thought.

  Her mother had been mistaken, of course, for Lilith had been taken away, though she did not know that until last year. Instead, she had believed her family abandoned her, even her mother, especially her mother. How could she have known at the time that her mother was dying and Lilith’s journey to the orphanage had nothing at all to do with her mother’s wishes?

  Her ability to forget her family over time had more to do with wanting to forget them. She could not bear waking up every day in an orphanage to think of the betrayal and abandonment by her own parents and brother. She set out to forget them. And she had.

  Until last year.

  Good heavens. When had she become such a watering pot? Wiping more tears, she ducked her head back into the cottage, not wanting to make a spectacle of herself.

  With bated breath and pounding heart, Lilith, perched at the cottage window, watched her most ardent suitor approach, his strides long, his shoulders stooped in pursuit, a swell of the first stare with his fashionable Anglican attire.

  The Reverend Sands advanced towards the cottage, his double-breasted cassock flowing about his ankles, his white neckband tighter than necessary, and his Canterbury cap secured firmly on his sweaty head.

  Teeth bared, she welcomed the rector.

  “Harry,” she said. “Do come in. Would you like tea?”

  “Always a superb hostess. Alas, no time today.” He took her unoffered hand into his for a clammy squeeze before seating himself at the table.

  Not that she cared for formalities or propriety, but her blood boiled at his audacity to sit before either being offered a seat or waiting for her to take her own seat. His manners had become more appalling in her month’s absence.

  “I’ve received a correspondence from the esteemed Earl of Roddam,” he said as she took a seat across from him at the table.

  She looked at him with undisguised alarm.

  “I am deeply honored to be so condescended but, of course, he would feel a kinship to me with my being the humble benefactor of his patronage to the orphanage. I daresay he will consider me a friend before long, if not an altogether closer relation in time.”

  He paused to give her a long and penetrating stare.

  “His lordship informed me that he will arrive in a fortnight to see for himself the progress of the foundling hospital since it is his patronage that has funded the build. He will be pleased.”

  Lilith ground her teeth. It was the smugness of his smile as he took full credit for work that was not his own. Mrs. Copeland, headmistress of the orphanage, had the idea for the foundling hospital some months ago. When she appealed to the rector, he was wary, not wanting to use the earl’s donations on new buildings or staff, especially if he could not see a quick turn on investment. It had taken nearly six months to convince him. Only when Lilith left Allshire for the castle had construction begun.

  Not wanting to appear discourteous, she said, “Yes, he will be surprised by the progress. As will his cousin-in-law. Baron Collingwood hopes to open an orphanage and foundling hospital of his own, you should know, and will be accompanying my brother to survey the facilities and interview Mrs. Copeland.”

  The rector blustered for a moment. “Welcome tidings! His lordship failed to mention this in his letter, but I’m happy for the opportunity to impress upon Lord Collingwood all that we do in God’s name. He will, no doubt, wish to join the esteemed name of his cousin as a patron.”

  It took great fortitude not to roll her eyes.

  “Alas, I have more calls to make. Should my time allow, I will call on you daily. A woman such as yourself can’t receive many callers, and I would be derelict in my duties not to realize that and remedy it. You need not be without company on my watch.” He said this last with a pitying expression before leaving.

  Lilith clenched her fists, infuriated. He made no mention of wanting her company. Instead, he would gift her his company since she was an aged, illegitimate spinster, pining at the window of her cottage with nothing better to do with her time. It was all a ploy, a transparent ploy. He could try to make her feel inferior and desperate enough to accept his hand, but she would not fall for it.

  Clouds loomed. Lilith stood at the gate of Miss Tolkey’s home, or rather the quaint cottage of the grandmother with whom she lived. Drumming her fingers against the wooden post, Lilith scowled at the sky. Don’t you dare, she warned in silence to the leaden ceiling. It would not do to arrive to church as a drowned rat.

  Though Lilith’s cottage was next to the church, she walked all the way to the outskirts of the village to meet Miss Tolkey and walk back with her to the church. Lilith dared not allow the girl to walk alone. At one time, th
e grandmother had accompanied her, but now the elderly lady was bedridden. The Reverend Sands typically walked Miss Tolkey home in order to bring the church to her grandmother’s bedside.

  The corners of Lilith’s mouth twitched into a smile when Miss Tolkey ran out, making a meager attempt to tie her bonnet ribbons beneath her chin. The girl, mousy in appearance with coltishly long legs, was barely one and twenty. She had been teaching at the orphanage for two years and learning the midwife trade from Lilith, just as Lilith had learned from Mrs. Brighton. Though a bit unusual for unmarried women to learn a trade almost exclusive to the married or widowed, the parish was remote enough not to be too picky if someone was fervent enough to learn and practice. Miss Tolkey was an eager pupil and apt protégée.

  And a friend.

  The bonnet ribbon tied, the two women linked arms and walked to the church. Miss Tolkey had a spring in her step and a rosy tinge to her cheeks. She looked almost pretty today.

  “Have you thought over marriage, Miss Chambers?” the girl asked, turning her face to look up into Lilith’s.

  Lilith was so surprised, not to mention taken aback, that she faltered in her steps. Catching herself with an embarrassed laugh, she looked with raised eyebrows at her companion.

  “Marriage? From where did that question arise?”

  The girl blushed. “I hope you don’t think me impertinent. It’s only, Grandmama is encouraging I look about me before I lose my bloom. I thought of you and how advanced you are in age. Have you thought of marrying?”

  Hmph. Advanced in age indeed. The comment was not said cruelly, and Lilith did not suspect the girl meant offense, but it raised the hair on her arms nevertheless.

  “I have accomplished more than most and known a freedom one cannot know in marriage. Yes, I’ve thought about it, but I’m not altogether resigned to the idea.” Not untrue.

  “Are you waiting for the right man or the right offer?”

  “Are they mutually exclusive?” Lilith asked. When Miss Tolkey frowned in confusion, Lilith sighed. “I’m not waiting for anything. I’m living my life.”

  “But should the right man or the right offer happen your way, would you say yes?”

  Miss Tolkey’s innocence had crossed the border of impertinence. However annoyed, Lilith attempted a tight-lipped smile.

  In a soft but severe tone, she said, “All would depend on the circumstances, the situation of my life, the man himself, and what we both had to offer.”

  Miss Tolkey thought for a stretch of the walk. Lilith embraced the silence and hoped the chatter was at an end. Between the rector’s persistent hints and this, she was ready to scream. She already had enough to think of in the way of marriage.

  Unfortunately, Miss Tolkey broke the silence before they reached the church. “What do you think of Mr. Sands? Do you believe he would make a good husband?”

  Lilith could have choked on air. How did Miss Tolkey know of the rector’s pursuits? Ah, but someone would have to be blind not to see his marked attention. House calls were not unusual since he paid them to everyone, but he all too often singled out Lilith, walked with her through the village, and visited the orphanage unnecessarily often.

  Lilith bit her tongue before saying, “He’s an amiable and honorable man.”

  What else could she say? That he was a weasel? That he shamed his profession with his greed? That his breath smelled as odious as his intentions? No, she would not speak openly against a man of the cloth, and certainly not a man upon whom her livelihood depended. Her only hope was to refuse his suit with kindness enough times that he saw it best to press his advances on someone else.

  Lilith turned the tide of the conversation by asking after the grandmother. The girl chattered for the remainder of the walk.

  When they reached the church, it was to find Mrs. Copeland and her sister-in-law waiting with a fox tail of orphans, all in their scruffy Sunday best. The happy queue, punctuated with the fidgety miscreants, greeted the Reverend Sands in his vestments before filing into the pews.

  The sermon began with the calling of banns.

  “I publish the banns of marriage between Miss Harriette Ains of the Ainses of Allshire and Mr. Isaac Wimple of the Wimples of Boding. This is the second time of asking. If any of you know cause or just impediment why these two persons should not be joined together in Holy Matrimony, ye are to declare it,” said Mr. Sands from his pulpit.

  The congregation remained silent. She knew Harriette, a sweet-tempered girl, the eldest of eight siblings.

  Lilith felt old. Harriette was only sixteen.

  The sermon continued with celebratory words on marriage. Nothing struck her as unusual about the rector’s words, mostly because she was too busy swatting at Bartholomew’s hand as he reached for Minerva’s braid. The children settled, her mind drifted. To say her mind was otherwise engaged would be a pointed turn of phrase, as she could think of little else than the one person she had tried not to think about since returning home.

  Walter.

  In two weeks, he would arrive to pay court to her.

  The first week of her return, she had missed him more than she would admit. She had missed everything and everyone. Solitude had felt a sort of prison. If he had arrived during that first week, she would have leapt into his arms with a resounding yes.

  The second week of her return, she had made a point to remember all she loved about her life and all she would hate about not only being married, but also being part of his world. Even now, the sight of the back of the local gentry’s heads from the front pews made her stomach churn. There was an air about them of haughty condescension. Why would she want to become one of them?

  “‘For if they fall, the one will lift up his fellow: but woe to him that is alone when he falleth; for he hath not another to help him up.’ Ecclesiastes 4:10.”

  The Reverend Sands’ voice rang out above the congregation, exalted, his figure imposing, however slight. “There are those who choose to remain alone, to offer their body to the Lord, to spend their days married to God. There are those who know the sins of the flesh and choose to marry, joining their spirit in worship of the Lord. But then, there are those who choose to remain alone because they are selfish, greedy, undesirous of worshiping the Lord with their mind, spirit, or body.”

  Lilith looked up at the rector, her grim study of the front pews interrupted. Was she mistaken, or was he staring directly at her?

  “It is those who have partaken in sinful thoughts, who have felt lust, who know the wicked ways of man, seen the fruit born of the seed, yet remain alone who are the dissenters. Their minds are unchaste.”

  Oh, yes, he was looking at her. Not in an overly obvious way, but his eyes paused at her with every sweep of his gaze. Good heavens!

  It was too late now to disguise the flame of her cheeks. It was not his stare that had her flushed, but his words. Guilt for her sinfulness weighed heavily. He must be subtly referencing her work as a midwife, for he could not know her impure thoughts of Walter or the intimacy they had shared at the curtain wall door. He could not know that the memory of Walter’s lips kept her awake most nights, as did the vision of his green eyes darkened after their embrace.

  Could anyone blame her for such thoughts? He found her desirable. He did not care that her bloodline was tainted. He did not care that she was in her thirties. He found her desirable. More than desirable. He found her marriable. Was it such a sin, then? And was it selfishness or selflessness that gave way to her hesitancy?

  “I am reminded of Corinthians, and you know of which I speak. ‘But if they cannot contain, let them marry: for it is better to marry than to burn.’ Corinthians 7:9. As we learn from Corinthians 7:34, the unmarried woman is devoted to the Lord, devoted in all ways, holy in all ways, but only if her mind remains pure. I look now at my flock, and I see those with sinful thoughts. You know who you are. Those who are not devoted
to chastity court temptation and encourage fornication. We must abstain from unholy thoughts and temptation or else marry, for marriage is the honoring of God. I know the sins of your heart. Marry in haste. I say to you, I know you. Get thee to a church and marry or else burn.”

  The blood drained from Lilith’s face. She shook herself free of all guilt, for his words were not of God. His words were of a greedy suitor. He was talking of her, to her, manipulating God’s words to encourage her to marry him, by threat of damnation no less! Oh, he was a vile man.

  After a lengthy sermon on the joys of marriage and the sins of fornication and impure thoughts, they joined voices in worship before dismissing.

  Mr. Sands saw each person out with a handshake and brief word. Lilith saw it as a steep toll to pay. With lips pursed, an orphan on each hand, she approached him.

  His expression lit with open adoration. “My dearest Miss Chambers,” he said, reaching a hand to capture hers before checking himself that her hands were otherwise occupied. “I do hope your brother, the Earl of Roddam, will join us for service,” he trumpeted. “How delighted he will be to see all settled and able to wish us happy.”

  It took all in her power not to throttle the man. How dared he insinuate such things in front of others. What must they think?

  In a desperate attempt to twist his words for those eavesdropping, which was everyone, she said, “Yes, I do believe he will be delighted to see all settled with the construction of the hospital. He will, as you say, wish us happy for all we’ve done to help Mrs. Copeland bring about her vision. A good day to you, Mr. Sands.”

  Without awaiting a reply, she directed the children outside to meet a grinning Miss Tolkey.