“Yes, my lady.” He accepted the rolled paper without hesitation and went on his way, likely to the servant’s staircase, which was really more ideally situated than the grand steps she used on a daily basis.
Esther rubbed at her eyes, wishing they would stop aching and filling with tears alternatively. Then she went down the ornate staircase and to the dining room. Word must have travelled to the kitchen through Mary during her trip to secure her reply to Silas. The buffet, though not laden as heavily as normal, had a selection of tempting foods upon it. Including her favorite jams and rolls. The thoughtfulness of the staff with so small a thing, when they knew how her heart must ache, touched her.
Still, she could not bring herself to fill her plate completely. She needed something in her stomach. The sweet scent of fresh jam, the softness of fresh bread, did not hold its usual allure. Even her favorite foods were dull and bland when her mind continually turned to the memory of her brother. How could it be true that he would never sit across a table from her again?
Esther’s fork clattered to her plate when a sob unexpectedly took her breath away. Thankfully, Mary had tucked several clean handkerchiefs about Esther’s person, up sleeves and even in her bodice. If Esther kept crying as she did, however, she would use up her entire stock in a single morning.
When she had better hold of herself, Esther sipped her lukewarm tea and left the table, ready to go in search of Silas. She stepped into the hall at the same moment he did. They both stopped, staring at one another. His handsome green eyes studied her openly, perhaps looking for evidence of their late night, or else finding the proof of her tears shed moments before.
Since he made no secret of his perusal, Esther studied him with the same level of intensity. The shadows beneath his eyes were not as pronounced as they had been the night before. His jaw looked as though he clenched it, somewhat uncomfortably, and it was clean shaven again. All in all, he appeared more presentable. Of course, wearing a coat and cravat made him immensely more put together than he had been last evening.
Her cheeks tingled, warming ever so slightly, as she thought back on his disheveled appearance. Of course, in her nightgown, she’d been in far worse a state.
Clearing his throat once, Silas started toward her. “Good morning, Esther. I hope you had the rest you needed.”
“Thank you. It was enough to begin my day, as you see.” She lifted her arms slightly, the gesture almost helpless. “I do not seem to be entirely in command of my emotions, however. I thought I ought to warn you before we stepped out of doors together.”
One corner of his mouth went upward, the curve of his smile faint yet charming. “I am glad I interpreted your message correctly. Truly, Esther, your talent is remarkable.”
“Not really.” Uncertain of his continued stare, she turned her attention to studying the folds of his cravat instead. “Watercolors are not exactly seen as fine art, nor are charcoal drawings and pencil sketches. I have tried my hand at oils, but they are far too fickle and demanding.”
The touch of his fingers on her chin surprised her into looking up again, as he doubtlessly intended. “It is a talent, my lady. Please do not belittle it. I looked forward to receiving your art. I studied each picture carefully, trying to determine your mood and your mind when you created it. Receiving something from you was my favorite part of each day.”
Her heart, tender and bruised, gave a pleasant sort of thump at the praise. “Thank you. That is most kind of you to say.” Her words came out softly, almost breathless.
Dropping his hand from her chin, Silas offered her his arm. “Shall we?”
“I need my hat. And gloves.” This time she spoke with more firmness, trying to recover from how she had spoken before.
“Of course. Everything will be at the entry as I instructed.” Everyone obeyed his commands. Finally, Esther took his arm. At the front door, Bailey and Mary stood. The butler with the earl’s hat and gloves, the maid with Esther’s things.
Once properly outfitted, Esther took Silas’s arm and they stepped outside. He did not ask for her preferred destination, but began at once toward the path which would lead them to the birch grove. Though the skies were overcast, the temperature remained pleasant and the wind had calmed since the day before. Still, Esther’s gratitude for the long sleeves and heavier material of her midnight blue gown was keen.
“What made you think to respond to my letters with artwork?” Silas asked, interrupting the comfortable silence.
Watching him from the corner of her eye, his genuine curiosity surprised her. He kept glancing at her, brows drawn down slightly and head tilted ever so slightly to one side.
“I cannot be certain what prompted it,” she said, then bit her lip.
“Ah. A falsehood.” He chuckled. “I remember once when you told us your nurse gave you permission to join us in our play. You bit your lip just like that and within minutes there she came, dressed all in black and shouting across the lawn at you as though you were escaped livestock rather than a girl of six or seven.”
“You remember that?” she asked, horrified. “That is dreadful, Silas.” And most unexpected. She hadn’t thought any of them took notice of her enough to recollect such a thing, though she clearly recalled the way the older children had gaped at her angry nurse, and how Isaac had hastily assured the servant he had nothing to do with his sister’s escape from the house.
They stepped beneath the canopy of the trees.
“It made a strong impression, I suppose.” He said the words lightly, and looked rather as though he wished to laugh. Of course he did. It must have been amusing to watch her try and fail, time after time, to join their little party.
“Isaac was never pleased when I attempted such things,” she said slowly, taking in the bright green of the leaves overhead. She hadn’t come back to this particular place since Sir Neil had found her. Being in such a secluded spot with him popping up unexpectedly had been less than desirable.
Her husband shrugged, his amusement fading at the mention of her brother. “I doubt he liked to see you in any kind of trouble.”
“More like he did not want me imitating his shadow.” Esther saw the clearing ahead, and she pictured the little boat sitting there before she saw it. “Invading his club.”
“I was always jealous of him,” Silas said, startling her enough that she stopped walking.
“You? Jealous of Isaac? Whatever for?” It was a strange thing for a man born to such privilege to say. Isaac was a humble baronet, without the lands and titles Silas held, without the status. Did boys envy such things? Even as children, she could think of no way that Silas had wanted for anything.
“I was. He had you. And the girls had each other. And Jacob came from a whole horde of brothers and sisters.” Silas stared down at her and his expression softened. “I thought all of them far more fortunate than I. They had friends forever about them, with their siblings, and when everyone went home at the end of the day, I was left alone.”
The image she held of Silas as a child, sitting by himself in the grand house behind them, gave her a twinge of guilt. As a child, she could do nothing about it. But she had never given thought to what his life was like when her parents packed Isaac and her up at the end of their days in the sunshine and took them home again. He hadn’t even had parents to speak to, his only company a cantankerous grandmother.
“We were not always close, you know,” Esther said, trying to banish the cheerless scene from her imagination. “He preferred your company, Jacob’s, and the Everlys’, to mine.” She released Silas’s arm and continued on the path, emerging from the trees into the overgrown grass. “I never understood it; at our home, Isaac was attentive and kind to me, but when we came near his friends I was the very last person he wished to be about.”
“Ah, now that I think I understand. I spoke to Jacob about it once. He came to visit, walked all the way to Inglewood Keep on his own. I asked why he hadn’t brought his older brothers, or anyone younger than
him.” Silas stopped walking at the edge of the clearing, his eyes falling to the boat he had dragged into the trees so long before.
“What did he say?” she prompted when he remained quiet.
“He said that he wanted something of his very own. A friend no one in his family could claim. A place just for him.” He sighed, a tired sort of smile appearing upon his face. “I suppose when you are used to sharing everything, as he was in a family of eight, you must want to make something that is only your own. Perhaps it was the same with Isaac. He adored you, but he wanted time to be himself and not an older brother.”
Esther shook her head and went to the boat, lifting her skirts to step inside as she had on her last visit. “He never did like looking after me when there were more exciting things to be done.” She sat down on the bench seat. “This is only the second time I’ve ever stepped into this boat. The first was directly after you left.”
“Really? I thought you came out here with us a time or two.” Silas stepped close to the boat and knelt by its side, inspecting the faded writing. “The Silver Birch Society. I forgot we called ourselves that. For several summers.”
“It was the very worst thing to do, making a club when I could not join it,” she said with a prim tone. “I always thought when I was a little older I might be inducted in, but by that time you had all changed your interests to horseback riding and fishing.” It seemed silly to remember that childhood injustice when she had married one of the boys she always followed after. With her brother gone. She would never shadow him again.
“We ought to induct you now,” Silas said. Kneeling as he was by the boat, next to her side, she looked downward into his handsome face. The expression he wore, the gentle smile and raised eyebrows, made her skin tingle as it had when he kissed her cheek. The sensation of being looked at in such a way pleased and startled her. She had been noticed. By someone who mattered.
Tucking her skirts around her more carefully, using it as an excuse to look away from her husband’s kind eyes, Esther forced a laugh. “That is most unnecessary. We are all grown men and women. It doesn’t matter anymore.”
He hummed, a short sound she could not be sure signaled agreement with her. Then he stood and walked around the boat. “I ought to have this dinghy sanded and repaired.”
“Whatever for?” she asked, blinking up at him in surprise. “It will never go on the water again.”
“I know. Perhaps someday, there may be other children who wish to play upon it.” His matter-of-fact answer surprised her and brought a blush to her cheek. What children could he be speaking of if not theirs?
Esther smoothed her skirts, wishing she had a way to keep her hands busy. Or that she was not sitting in order to wander away from him without it appearing obvious she had no wish to broach the subject of children with him. Not yet.
Silas had finished circumnavigating the boat. He held his hand out to her. “Would you like to see something else we brought out here? I have just remembered—I wonder if it’s still there.” His grin brightened with obvious excitement.
Relieved the subject of children had been dropped as swiftly as he brought it up, Esther placed her hand in his and allowed him to help her step out of the boat. “Did you drag some other sort of vehicle into the trees? A carriage, perhaps?” she asked, trying to match his lightness of spirit.
“No, no. Something smaller. This way.” Silas kept hold of her hand rather than place it in the crook of his arm, his fingers twining with hers as they had the night before. Though they wore gloves, the intimacy of the gesture still sent a shiver through her.
Eagerly he led her between two especially large trees, his long legs covering the ground at a pace that made her have to run to keep up. Silas looked back, noticing, and slowed his steps. He offered an apologetic smile and squeezed her hand gently.
“Where are we going?” she asked.
“Not far at all.” He took her a few more steps into the trees, then stopped at a pile of stones. “It must still be here.” Silas released her hand before kneeling on the ground, heedless of the dirt. He started moving the rocks out of their pile, all the way down to the earth. The last rock he moved made an odd scraping sound.
“What was that?” Esther asked, peering around him.
“When we formed the club, we decided part of the induction ceremony was to put something of ours in this box and bury it. I think it was Hope’s idea. Jacob called it buried treasure, and she insisted it was more important than that. It was for good luck, making certain we would all be friends so long as a box of our things stayed together. She had a whole fairy story concocted around it.” He took off his gloves and tucked them into his coat before continuing to unearth a small, battered tin box.
Like a boy rather than a man in fine clothes, he turned and sat directly on the ground, legs stretched in front of him. His valet was sure to have a fit. For her part, Esther bit her bottom lip to hide her smile.
It took Silas time to pry the lid off the old container, and when he did she saw it lined with rust. He put the box on the ground and pulled out a bundle wrapped in a large square of cloth, water-stained but perhaps it had once been a clean handkerchief. He pulled at the knots and handed the contents, one by one, to Esther.
The first thing to come out was a pewter figure, half the size of her little finger, of an owl. “This was Grace’s contribution, I think.” Then he placed a ring with a red stone in her palm. “Hope.” A cricket ball. “Jacob.” Then Silas hesitated, his hand wrapped around an object he did not immediately show her. He swallowed, then held it out. “Isaac’s item. A wooden soldier.”
It was painted red and white and had been well lacquered, as it had withstood the elements quite well. She stared at the carving, trying to remember if she had ever seen it before.
“It is almost like an omen,” she said, smiling sadly. “I suppose he did enjoy playing soldier a great deal.”
“When we rode, he would have us practice cavalry charges.” Silas said it almost apologetically, as though taking some of the blame for such a thing upon himself.
Esther lowered herself to the ground and put all the items, excepting the soldier, in her lap. She turned the soldier over again, admiring the detail in the little redcoat’s uniform. Then she placed it carefully with the other treasures. “What about yours, Silas? What did you put inside?”
“Something you may find silly.” He took out a leather cord, from which a beautiful, spiral shell hung from it. “I found that when I was a boy, and I drilled the hole in the shell, making it into a pendant for my mother. After she passed, I sneaked into her room and took it back.” Silas shrugged and averted his eyes, as if he wanted to dismiss the object’s significance.
“I think it’s rather beautiful that you would include it here. It is interesting how well each of these objects represents the people who put them inside.” She turned the shell over in her hands as she had the soldier, admiring its perfect condition. Finding undamaged shells on the beaches was a rare thing.
“I suppose they do reflect on our personalities somewhat. I am terribly sentimental about seashells, you know.” Silas spoke with such an even, somber tone that she had to dart a quick look at him before she dared to laugh.
Holding the shell necklace up by the old cords, Esther studied him as she spoke. “That isn’t what I meant at all. I only meant that you obviously cared a great deal about the people around you, and your friends became your new family after you lost your parents. That is what this box is—a sort of contract among all of you. That you would devote yourselves to each other and the preservation of your friendships.”
For a moment he stared at her, then let his eyes drift to the shell. “And here I thought we were merely children playing a game.”
Rather than continue the subject, Esther began to wrap and tuck the pieces into the box again. “This is something special, whatever it may be, and I think we should bring it back to the house. I imagine the others will be visiting soon.”
/> “I expect them at eleven o’clock.” Silas lifted the box in one hand, standing before offering to assist her to do the same. His bare hand closed warmly over her gloved one. “Without their families this first time. I am afraid after today I will not be able to hold back others who wish to offer condolences.”
Condolences. “It is such an empty word,” she murmured, clasping her hands before her and keeping her attention on the long grasses. “It doesn’t seem to matter that all of us have lost someone. When we go about and visit one another, there is rarely real comfort given.”
An arm around her waist startled her into looking up, meeting Silas’s green eyes and the anguished empathy within. “If it is too much for you, if there is something else you need or want, you have but to tell me. Isaac was your brother in truth, but I loved him like a brother, too.” He spoke with steady conviction, his words wrapping about her heart as his arm had gone about her body.
“Thank you.” Esther leaned her head against his chest, heedless of the way it bent her bonnet’s brim. The physical closeness eased the ache in her heart, even as she warned herself not to grow too attached to her husband. “I do not know what I would do without you. No one else could ever understand.”
He gave one last gentle squeeze, then offered his escort back to the house. They walked without hurry and without speaking. Esther’s eyes roamed the fields and trees, and everywhere she looked she could imagine boys and girls playing, while an even smaller little girl tried to keep up behind them.
Chapter Nineteen
Eleven o’clock arrived, and as the clock in the parlor chimed, Esther heard the entryway door open. The low voices and footsteps on the marble floors marked the arrival of Isaac’s dearest friends. She rose to her feet after exchanging a glance with Silas, who stood at the windows. He offered her the barest smile before coming to stand by her side.
The weight of grief had settled upon them again when they returned from their walk, leaving them with little to say to one another. Esther had gone to her room for an hour to rest, and Silas to his study. Though they had not spent a great deal of time in each other’s company, she had no wish to wear out her welcome by being forever about her husband. He already seemed to think her a child in need of direction.
Rescuing Lord Inglewood: A Regency Romance Page 16
