by Erin Grace
Yet, as she met her mother’s tired gaze and soft smile, she caught the silent plea not to say a single word against Henrietta. For her mother’s sake, she suppressed the ball of rage that had swelled within her stomach.
Henrietta sat down upon the worn wooden arbor seat, it’s climbing rose long dead, though the skeletal remains of it clung to the lattice work. The poor specimen was testimony to how much Henrietta hated working in the garden.
With a sly smile, her aunt reached out and patted the vacant seat next to hers. ‘Come Caroline. Sit next to me whilst your daughter tells us another one of her charming tales.’
Her mother’s jaw tightened, lips thinned as she slowly sat down next to Henrietta and placed a basket of mending upon the pebbly ground.
‘Henrietta. I’m certain Lily must have a very good reason as to why she is late.’ Bother. Why had that old witch called her mother down?
She folded her hands in front of her and did her best to appear nonplussed. It wasn’t easy. ‘I had, in truth, stopped by Mrs Jenkins to pay her a short visit early this morning, but she still isn’t home.’
‘Aha! I knew it.’ Henrietta scowled at her. ‘And, I suppose that would explain where the jar of raspberry jam I was saving for the ladies meeting on Saturday had disappeared to.’
Her mother’s face paled, but the tiny hint of a smile spread across her lips. ‘No, Aunt Henrietta, I had put that jar aside for the tarts I have been baking just now.’ Instead, she’d hidden Henrietta’s jar of plum jam and a nice bottle of cider for when her friend returned. ‘I was concerned about Mrs Jenkins and had only intended to stay but a moment. After all, I know how much the health and wellbeing of the congregation means to you and Uncle Linus.’
Her aunt’s lips pursed tightly together before she nodded very slowly.
‘Yes, naturally. However, when I charge you with a specific duty, I expect my orders to be followed to the letter. Do you understand me?’
‘Yes, Aunt Henrietta.’
‘So, you say.’ The exasperating woman threw her hands up. ‘And yet you obviously do not. Honestly, Caroline, I do believe that you have been far too relaxed with your daughters over the years. They shun discipline and do exactly as they please. If you are not very careful, Stephaney will turn out no better than this poor example here or worse in fact.’
Her mother frowned at the woman’s complaint. ‘Yes, Henrietta. I will speak to Lily after supper this evening.’
‘I have decided she won’t be having supper. Caroline, she must be punished for her insubordination.’
Mama reached out and clutched Henrietta’s arm. ‘Please, do not punish her. She meant well. You cannot make her go without food.’
Heat rushed through her veins like liquid wildfire. She couldn’t bear the sight of her mother begging on her behalf. She’d rather starve than have her mama belittle herself so.
Forcing down her growing ire, she stepped forward. ‘I had a very good reason for not being at the vicarage, Aunt Henrietta.’
‘Well, I have yet to hear it.’
‘As I was baking, Mr Dunford paid me a visit.’
‘Goodness. Are you all right?’ Her mama stood up.
Henrietta glanced away as if she had no knowledge of the man’s intentions. ‘Don’t fear, Caroline, I’m sure Mr Dunford conducted himself appropriately.’
She crossed her arms. ‘Quite. However, after I finally managed to persuade him to leave, another gentleman paid a call at the kitchen.’
‘And, you let him in? Oh, of all the ill breeding.’ Henrietta rested a hand upon her chest. ‘And I suppose, without so much as an introduction, spoke to this stranger?’
‘Yes, of course. I could hardly ignore the man.’
A smirk touched her aunt’s lips. ‘And, did this stranger have a name?’
‘Naturally.’
‘And?’
‘He introduced himself as Captain Holsworthy.’
Henrietta’s mouth gaped then flapped silently like a fish gulping air. Never had she seen her aunt in such a state.
Her mother started to laugh and covered her mouth with her hand. ‘Oh, my.’
Henrietta shot her mother a burning glare so hot it could have scalded milk.
‘Caroline! This is in no way humorous.’ Her aunt got to her feet, hitched her hands upon her broad hips and took a step closer to her. ‘Are you telling me, that Lord Etford’s son has returned to the village and you didn’t bother to inform me?’
‘I am telling you…now.’
Henrietta clasped her hands together and teetered on her feet. ‘His lordship, in the village. I must see your uncle immediately.’
She raised her hand slightly, in the hope of getting her aunts attention. ‘He’s not ‘his lordship’.’
‘I beg your pardon?’
‘Captain Holsworthy. He said he was not a lord yet, and to address him as captain.’
Henrietta appeared about to swoon. Lord, she hoped not. There was little chance of her catching the woman before she hit the ground.
A smile itched at the corners of her mouth at the thought.
‘Oh, you impertinent girl. You had the audacity to hold a conversation with him? I must go, but when I return you will tell me everything that was said, do you understand me, my girl? You uncle holds a highly esteemed position on his lordship’s estate, and if I find that you have done anything, anything to insult the captain and jeopardize our future here, you shall feel my wrath make no mistake!’
Her aunt dashed past her and disappeared through the church doorway like a pink and white striped whirlwind.
She blinked and twisted her lips in thought. Perhaps she should have mentioned the captain was already inside with her uncle? Too late. She could only hope he doesn’t mention the chicken.
Chapter 6
In the solace of the manor library, Gabriel stood by the window and poured himself a generous brandy. Not that he had much time to drink it.
Already late afternoon, he would have to change his attire soon, else risk being late for dinner with his father – an undesirable situation to say the least. He’d been detained at the church far longer than he’d anticipated, the ordeal with the vicar giving him a blasted headache. Never had he met such a tedious person, with the exception of course, of the man’s wife.
Loosening his cravat, he made his way to a chair by the fire and sat down.
Now, what was the wretched woman’s name? Hanna? Helga? He couldn’t remember. Not that he wanted to meet her again anytime soon. He merely wanted to know her name as to avoid her wherever possible.
How fortunate Miss Bowden didn’t appear to take after her aunt.
Images of the feisty young woman filled his mind, drawing a strange sensation, akin to regret, from his conscience.
Damn it all. He had behaved very badly.
There had been no sound reason to reprimand her for her honesty and compassion. Perhaps he was merely unused to finding such qualities in a person, especially a woman.
He could still see her there in the graveyard, near full to bursting with the need to give him back his due. A smile curled a corner of his mouth. Yes. He couldn’t mistake the flash of fire burning in those brilliant emerald eyes, a sure sign she would have given him a tongue lashing to within an inch of his life.
But, why hadn’t she?
He’d already a taste of her temper when they’d first met in Mrs Jenkins’s garden. Why hold back now? Perhaps he already knew the answer to that.
Now, she knew who he was.
He doubted he’d ever hear an honest comment or complaint from the girl again. Few felt comfortable giving any member of the aristocracy a dressing down. It was one of the things he missed about being in the army. Though his soldiers treated him with due respect to his rank, there had been many occasions where he could forget who he was and just be one of them.
The library door opened with a slight creak, and Lady Cecily Stanton stepped inside the room.
He raised his glass t
o his lips, took a long sip and winced as the aged brandy burned its way down his gullet. Despite it being so long since he’d seen her last, the rawness of his wounds surprised him. ‘I would ask you to come in, but you already have.’
She closed the door behind her then leaned back upon it.
‘Since when have I needed an invitation?’ Her sultry tones swept over him like a familiar warm breeze, one he fought to ignore with every fiber of his being.
‘Perhaps since you chose my brother over me?’
‘Touché.’ With the fluid grace of a goddess, she approached the mantel, a wry smile tilting what he once considered the most beautiful mouth in the world. ‘I thought I might find you in here.’
Against his own resolve, he looked up and met the cool azure gaze of the woman he wanted to hate but couldn’t. Despite everything Cecily had put him through; he couldn’t deny he had once loved something about her. And yet now, he couldn’t think of a single reason.
Cecily was still quite magnificent, cultured, polished – a premium product of the ton. Any man with breath in his lungs and blood in his veins would gladly take her as his wife. Yet, as he looked at her, he unwillingly drew comparisons to the little baggage who had admonished him over a fowl.
‘Or, are you here? No. I do believe something, or someone, has captured your thoughts and taken them elsewhere.’ She ran her delicate fingers along a small bronze statue of a bull sent by Henry during his travels to the Continent. ‘I must admit, though as undeserving as I am, I feel somewhat jealous that I have to compete for just a little of your time. I know you have been avoiding me since your arrival, Gabriel. We have to talk.’
‘From what I understand, there is little left to discuss.’ Ignoring her signature scent of French perfume, he stood, made his way to the sideboard and poured himself another drink. ‘Unless you wish to set a date?’
The words felt wooden on his tongue, and it was everything he could do not to crush the fragile crystal tumbler in his grasp. Once, he would have been filled with nothing but elation at the prospect of marrying Cecily, now he wished he were someone else.
She turned toward him and crossed her arms, her gaze trailing off to somewhere beyond the terrace doors.
‘I see my mother has already been in contact with you.’
‘I received her letter yesterday. Though I am somewhat disappointed I had not heard from you personally. Though, perhaps I shouldn’t be surprised.’
Her lovely mouth formed a scowl. ‘Please don’t be cruel, Gabriel. Do you honestly think it was easy for me to even allow my mother to tell you of my intimate details concerning your brother?’
‘I don’t see what was so difficult to explain. In fact, I’m very much surprised Henry managed to keep his hands off you until now. He certainly had no qualms about stealing you from me.’
‘Just because Henry and I were engaged, didn’t mean I gave myself freely.’ Her jaw stiffened, and she met his stony gaze. ‘I may be many things, but I am not a whore.’
He gave the slightest shrug and looked away, desperate to disguise the gambit of emotions hurtling through him, each one, like a tiny knife, ripping at the countless fragile stitches holding his heart together. Never again would he allow her to see his weakness and use it to tear his soul apart. ‘If that is what you’ll have me believe. So be it.’
At his comment, a deep sadness cast a shadow over her fair countenance, her eyes losing their usual violet-blue glimmer, only to be replaced by a lifeless grey.
He’d hurt her with his slight, but he’d be damned if he’d take it back. If she had walked into this room twelve months ago he would have wanted to howl and roar and tear the very walls themselves down to show her just how much she’d destroyed him.
Now…now, his cruelest weapon of all was indifference. Her eyes misted over, and she softly cleared her throat.
‘How very much like Henry you sound. Mores the pity. However, I suppose I should thank you for being so understanding.’ She walked toward him, reached out her hand to touch his arm, but he moved away. ‘I see. You’re still angry with me and you have every right to be. But I can’t pretend to enjoy the animosity between us now. So, tell me truthfully, Gabriel. If we were to marry, what kind of life would we have together?’
Straight to the point. She always did have little tact.
He took in a slow deep breath, suppressing every ounce of emotion clawing to get out, and prayed his chest wouldn’t explode. ‘If in fact you are breeding, you will have everything befitting the future Countess of Etford. And, as promised, I will accept Henry’s child as my own. You will both be cared for and provided for without question. You have my word. And, as long as you are discreet, I have no objections to you seeking out liaisons after a reasonable period after we are wed.’
‘I understand. So, what you are oh-so-delicately saying is that I will have everything…but you.’
He lowered his glass and stared out the window into the snowy landscape. ‘I am sorry if the arrangement isn’t to your satisfaction, madam, but it is all I am prepared to offer.
‘Next week?’ Lily turned to her mother and pleaded with her gaze. ‘But why?’
‘I don’t see why you are being so disagreeable.’ Henrietta raised a dainty porcelain cup to her mouth, slurped some tea and placed the cup upon its saucer. ‘I have spoken to your mother and your uncle at length, and we have all decided it is for the best that you give poor Mr Dunford your answer to his proposal.’
‘But, Mama…’
‘I am sorry, my dear, but you have left me little choice but to at least consider what your aunt and uncle have to say.’
No. Not her mother too.
‘Consider? There is nothing to consider, Caroline. You see, Lily…’ Her aunt stuffed a small biscuit into her mouth and proceeded to speak whilst chewing. ‘… after your little episode with Captain Holsworthy yesterday, I feel there is little choice but to force you to make a life for yourself. You are two and twenty, well past marriageable age, and what do you do? You choose to live off those who can barely afford to sustain themselves, rather than make your way in the world.’
Her throat constricted. ‘You threatened Mama, didn’t you?’
‘How dare you accuse me of such a thing? I had merely pointed out to your mama that our budget would no longer provide for so many. Unless, of course she was to pay me all of the profits from her stall sales, instead of half.’
‘I would, gladly.’ Her mother stood and glared at Henrietta, then turned to her. ‘However, your aunt is right about not letting the man wait for no good reason. Whatever you decide, my dearest, you should tell Mr Dunford of your intentions.’
No. No. No!
Never more had she wanted to scream, be anywhere but there.
Then an idea came to mind. May Papa forgive her. ‘I cannot give him my answer yet.’
‘I beg your pardon?’ Crumbs peppered from her aunt’s mouth. ‘I don’t believe I was giving you a choice. It has been decided.’
‘But, I choose to be in mourning for a full year. Surely, you can respect that.’
Her mother appeared relieved by her announcement and nodded quickly in agreement.
‘Yes, Henrietta. Paul has not been dead twelve months. It would be most disrespectful to marry Lily off until after a proper time.’
Her aunt’s face flushed deep red. Oh dear.
‘I’m not asking Lily to marry right away. Surely the girl can become engaged?’
‘No.’ Her mother interrupted before she could do it herself. ‘I insist my daughter wait. Besides. This is our first real Christmas without my late husband. ‘It will be difficult enough without the added strain of planning a wedding.’
Henrietta looked skyward and rolled her eyes. ‘Wedding aside, precisely how long must we wait for her answer then?
She took in a deep breath. ‘I will give you my decision on Christmas Eve.’
‘What?’ Henrietta spilt some tea on her precious brocade armchair. ‘That’s a month awa
y. You can’t expect to keep the man waiting so long.’
Her mama crossed her arms, clearly standing her ground – a sight she very much enjoyed.
‘I believe my brother would agree with us, Henrietta. You know how Linus is about propriety. And, what would his lordship think? I know how important your standing is with him.’
Henrietta stood, her face like thunder.
‘Very well. You have until Christmas Eve, Lily. And if you choose poorly, expect to be packed off London. I know many people who would be glad of your unique skills as a cook in their workhouse.’
Her aunt swept past her then left the room. Relief was so swift, she felt giddy.
‘Well, my dear.’ Her mother squeezed her hand and smiled. ‘You have until Christmas Eve. Use the time wisely. And, whatever you choose to do, I’ll not judge you on your decision.’
But the look in her mama’s eyes before she made her way to the door spoke her true feelings.
There was no future for her there. She must leave Speckles Wood, forever.
Chapter 7
'It was a rather somber service. Wouldn’t you agree, Cecily?’
Along with the tapping of her fingernails upon glass, Lady Iris Stanton broke the awkward silence with her bland observation of that morning’s church commemoration for his brother.
Henry had abhorred going to scripture of any kind, so it vaguely amused Gabriel to think of his brother’s spirit enduring three hours of endless psalms, out of tune hymns and the vicar’s wife looking almost jovial at the fact she had all of the remaining Holsworthy family in her little chapel. Not to mention there had been so many blasted flowers in the small church it was a wonder any of the mourners could fit inside.
Then afterwards, it was all he could do not to be trapped into attending a luncheon the woman had obviously planned well in advance in order to impress her friends.
And, though the gentleman in him reprimanded his poor social skills, he was in no mood to play the prize duck on show for all to peck at with their endless chatter and pointless questions.
