by Erin Grace
‘He is Lily’s suitor, not that she gives the poor man a chance. He’s a fine, older man, just the sort to take a headstrong young woman in hand. He owns the largest piggery in the area and, such a generous soul. Why, every year he gives the vicarage a lovely piece of pickled pork. Just imagine what he might give us once related?’ Spittle dribbled down the edge of the woman’s mouth. ‘But, does Lily consider the welfare of those who provide for her? Not in the least. For the past six months Mr Dunford has made his intentions clear, but the fool girl has refused him each time.’
‘Then the situation definitely deserves your prudent guidance, my dear madam. It wouldn’t do to allow Lily to miss out on such a promising catch simply due to her youthful stubbornness. What if another quality suitor isn’t to be found? No, it is your duty to see the girl well settled and secure in her future. Why, it is nothing less than the dear girl deserves.’
‘Again, so kind, my lady. I shall see to it that Lily makes the right decision.’
She nodded thoughtfully then stood; satisfied matters were now well in hand. ‘Oh, there is one other small detail. But, I don’t wish to be a bother.’
‘Yes. My lady?’ Heavens. It was like having an eager puppy on a chain. Too bad she had never cared for the horrid little beasts.
‘How would one go about removing your dear niece from Etford without causing too much fuss? We wouldn’t want her to think that I was trying to meddle and play the matchmaker now, would we? It would be far too embarrassing for the girl to have the need to thank me.’
The woman’s dark eyes glittered with a steely determination she almost admired. ‘You may rely upon me, your ladyship, to see to it.
She turned toward the door and waited patiently for it to be opened for her. Pausing on her way out, she issued her ridiculous hostess one last smile. ‘Thank you, Henrietta. I have every faith in you.’
Chapter 14
‘You’re cheating!’ Brow furrowed, Stephaney Bowden picked up her cards and frowned.
‘I beg your pardon, but lords do not cheat. If anything, I believe I should be banker next time. Your luck is far too excessive for my liking.’
Lord Etford held his cards close to his chest and eyed his opponent with steely determination. The little brat had beaten him for the last five games of Faro, but he didn’t mind in the least. In fact, he’d let her win, but he could never allow her to know it. No. This was one intelligent young lady who would never allow someone to go easy on her. Though, in truth, it didn’t hurt that she didn’t know all the rules of the game.
‘Blast!’ He placed a card down on the makeshift gaming mat and tossed the rest onto a pile before the girl could see them. ‘It would appear you win again. It’s hardly fair.’
‘Your language, my lord.’ She gathered the small pile of tiny silvery coins and chestnuts and dragged them to her side of the table. ‘My aunt Henrietta would have you punished for cursing.’
‘Is that so? I would certainly enjoy seeing her try. Does she punish you very often?’ Since first meeting the girl, he’d been curious about this ‘aunt’ of hers. Seemed every time he mentioned the woman, Stephaney would bight her bottom lip and neatly change the subject.
Oh, he’d met the Vicar Talbot’s wife on many occasions – in fact, too many for his liking – and though he couldn’t say he overly liked the woman, a spark of outrage filled his chest whenever he imagined her harming this poor girl.
She shrugged and fiddled with a shiny silver sixpence. ‘Sometimes. But she says I deserve it.’
He reached for his glass of tonic and winced as he ingested a large mouthful of the bitter brew. Good God. He didn’t care what that blasted cook said. The vile stuff couldn’t possibly be good for him. ‘Well, girl?’ He coughed and patted his chest. ‘Did you deserve it?’
‘No. I don’t think so.’
He formed the closet thing he could to a smile and nodded sharply. ‘Good girl. Always stand up for what you believe is right.
‘I’d probably get into much more trouble if it wasn’t for my sister, Lily. Whenever Henrietta wants to scold me, Lily takes the blame and accepts the punishment.’
‘Your sister sounds like a valiant young woman.’
She gathered up the cards and began sorting them into a neat pile. ‘Oh, she’s not young. She’s two and twenty. In fact, she fears she will be a spinster before too long.’
‘Good God! Two and twenty?’ He straightened himself in the armchair and tucked in the blanket around his legs.
‘Your language, my lord.’
‘I’ll have you know that two and twenty is not old at all. In fact, I was quite the young buck at that age. Why, I remember many a time I would…’ He glanced over at the perceptive young face then cleared his throat. ‘Well, never mind what I used to do. The point is, your sister is not old at all.’
The girl exhaled a deep breath, her cheeks puffing out as she did so. ‘That is quite a relief, my lord. Considering I will be turning thirteen soon, I was afraid of growing old.’
‘My dear little brat. You are far from turning old. In fact, I shall be the one to tell you when you are considered old.’
She pressed her forefinger into her chin and gave him a thoughtful stare. ‘Very well. But, can I trust you to always be there for me?’
His chest ached suddenly, as her words dragged him back to a time he’d much rather forget.
His beloved Sophia had been in labor for two days. So terrible was her pain, he couldn’t bear to witness it for too long and would instead wander aimlessly into the gardens, praying that she would deliver the baby and finally be at ease.
But his precious angel couldn’t sustain the strength to carry on. On the third morning she finally gave birth to a boy. He’d held her delicate hand, wishing to the heavens to take him instead of her. Anything but her.
But she’d just smiled at him and whispered that she loved him and would wait for him always. Then, with her dying breath she asked him to always be there for their children.
Guilt, buried for decades, surfaced and pricked his conscience like a bear prodding a hive of bees. Soon he would no longer be able to avoid the painful sting of his past.
‘My lord? Are you all right?’
He swallowed thickly and found it hard to meet the girl’s concerned gaze.
‘Yes, yes. I’m fine. I was just thinking that perhaps it was time for you to tell me how you came to be in Speckles Wood.’
‘So, now you wish to know? I had, in fact, come to see you nearly a year ago when Mama, Lily and I first came here. But, you weren’t very nice, I must say. Quite rude, in fact.’
He shifted, uncomfortable beneath her critical gaze. Impertinent chit. Come to think of it, he had never once seen the little brat smile. ‘Well. I can’t change the past. But, for what it’s worth, you have my deepest apologies, madam.’
She inclined her head with all the grace of a duchess. ‘Apology accepted.’
‘And?’ He issued her an expectant look.
She put down the decks of cards and gathered up all the sixpences. ‘Here are your coins, my lord. Thank you for the game.’
‘Evading my questions again, I see?’ He gestured for her to keep the tokens. ‘Take them home to your mama.’
‘I couldn’t, sir. It’s too much money.’
‘Nonsense. It’s a pittance, I assure you.’
She shook her head and allowed the coins to fall back to the table. ‘It’s more than my mama can earn from a month’s work at the markets. At least, more than what’s left after Aunt Henrietta takes half.’
Damn him for a bloody old fool. ‘I didn’t mean to upset you, girl. And, I’m no good with tears, so there’s no point in crying.’
She stood up from the table, her blue eyes glistening with pent-up emotion he knew lay just beneath the surface. At last, he’d managed to rile her. And, heaven help him for doing so, but he needed to force her to get angry.
‘I am not crying.’
‘Eh? Just as well. I c
an’t abide silly little girls who cry. Damn nuisance, bubbling away at the slightest harsh word.’
‘Your language, my lord! For your information, I do not bubble or cry or care a fig for what you like or don’t like.’
‘Your language, little brat. So, come on now. Just what do you give a fig about then?’
Her hands began to tremble, bottom lip quivered. ‘I…I used to care about my papa.’
The air seemed to rush from the room as the gravity of her softly spoken words reached his ears. Yes. Now he understood.
She clenched her tiny hands into fists and shook her head slowly. ‘But, he never cared for me.’
He hated the tears stinging his eyes as he fought to hold them back. Damn it all to blazes. He hadn’t even cried at Sophia’s funeral, yet here he was crumbling at the sorrowful plight of a girl he barely knew.
‘He did care for you, brat. He must have.’
‘How would you know? Do you care for your children? He was my father. And, one’s father shouldn’t abandon their daughters. He was supposed to always be there for me.’ Sobs racked her tiny frame and her words became more like gasps.
But he couldn’t hold back now. She needed to scream and shout and let the heavens know how angry and hurt she was inside.
‘But, he’s not there anymore. Is that it?’
Tiny droplets of water ran down along her cheek then dripped onto her calico smock. She inhaled a deep stuttered breath and gazed into the hearth. ‘No. He died.’
‘How did he die?’
‘Mama said it was cholera.’ Stumbling towards him, her body began to shake, and tears flowed freely from her swollen eyes. For the first time since his wife died, he felt his old heart breaking. ‘I never got to say goodbye. I never got to say how much I love him. He promised we would have Christmas together. We were to have a tree. Lily…Lily and I brought presents. But, he never got the chance to open them.’
As she reached his chair, she stared off into the distance with heavy lidded eyes and began to sway. Good God. He pushed himself from the armchair, catching her listless frame as she collapsed into his arms.
‘Stephaney? For God’s sake, brat, do wake up.’ But the girl lay still against him, so complete her exhaustion. But, to be sure, he leaned down and paced his ear against her chest. A heartbeat. Thank the heavens. He was too bloody old for such frights.
Exhausted, he rested his back against the base of his chair, held the girl and gently stroked her hair while she slept.
‘Sleep well, child. It’s a terrible demon you have faced, I’ll give you that. Not many are brave enough to confront what haunts their dreams. But it would appear you finally have.’
As he stared into the glowing embers, his own terrible past came back to torture him. Despite his promise to Sophia, he had never been the father she wanted him to be to their children.
How could he have been?
Her death had gutted him, left a vast empty chasm where his heart used to be. Even the sight of his healthy boy had given little joy. Quite the opposite in fact. From birth, Gabriel looked so much like his mama.
His throat constricted as he closed his eyes and breathed in the memory of her scent. Her beautiful long hair, the color of midnight, had smelled of orange blossoms, her porcelain skin of lilacs and rose. Never had she the need for rouge or powder. No. She was not only a diamond, but the most precious jewel he possessed.
And, he had blamed his infant son for taking her away.
His own hand began to shake as thirty years of poison leached from within his heart and flowed into his lungs, filling him with a black tide of rage so painful he gritted his teeth against the agony until he could bear it no more.
His head tilted back, and he unleashed an ungodly howl that shook every fiber of his being to the core. Tears poured from his eyes, and he swore right then he would never stop them again.
Then suddenly, the raging flood of emotion subsided, leaving him almost dizzy. He panted with the effort just to breathe.
‘Sophia. Oh, my love. I am so sorry. Forgive me.’
Chapter 15
Six days had passed since her encounter with the captain in the library and never had Lily felt so lonely. Or at least she would have if her duties hadn’t kept her so busy. In many ways she was thankful for the constant distraction, anything not to dwell on the kiss she would never feel again.
Had he done it just to punish her? Make her realize what a foolish thing she’d done by kissing him in the first place? Perhaps. Only now she found it near impossible to sleep through the night unless she worked herself to the point of pure exhaustion. If not, she would stare aimlessly up at the ceiling reliving over and over again the way in which Gabriel had touched her back, kissed her neck and near sent her to the floor when he nibbled on her ear. She let out a soft sigh then swallowed.
And, since when had she began calling him Gabriel?
The hint of a smile curled one side of her mouth as she glanced around to make sure no one had seen the blush of heat warming her cheeks. Well, they were her private thoughts, so she could call him what she pleased. Couldn’t she?
Besides, soon she would be away from Etford Park - and from him.
After talking to Mrs Peel, she had decided to seek employment at a milliners’ shop owned by the cook’s favorite niece, Penelope. According to Mrs Peel, the young woman had married a wealthy fabric merchant and was now one of the most sought-after milliners in all of London. Mrs Peel would give her a letter of introduction and also write to Penelope to ensure she’d be assisted in finding a reputable place to stay. In short, her future seemed set. Anyone else would be happy, excited. So why did she feel so miserable? Oh, don’t be so foolish. He was never meant for her in the first place.
Shaking off her melancholy thoughts, she lifted the heavy wicker basket onto the old stone wall by the vicarage and caught her breath in the chilly morning air. Not that carrying the assortment of treats for her family was a burden. Courtesy of Mrs Peel and Polly were jams, marmalade, pickles and some of Mrs Peels’ ‘secret recipe’ fruit mincemeat.
She brushed the lightly fallen snow from the red woolen cover cloth and smiled. Church bells pealed behind her signaling the end of the morning service. Eleven o’clock.
Although there wasn’t enough time for her to attend the service, being Sunday, staff were permitted to have some free time after chores, as long as they were back before they were required. Lady Cecily wouldn’t need to be dressed for dinner until five o’clock. Although it would only be a few hours respite, she was grateful to visit with her sister and Mama.
Lady Cecily was a reasonable woman in many regards but kept her in a constant swirl of dressing and undressing. Why on earth would anyone wish to change their attire four times a day? And if it wasn’t for the fact her ladyship had declined to go riding, she would have added another outfit to her daily attire.
In many ways, the simplicity of only having one dress was a blessing.
And although not overly fond of her uniform, she had to confess it was far warmer than anything she currently owned. After arriving at Etford with very little, it surprised her how Mrs Godfrey always made sure to provide her with whatever she needed. Yet the woman criticized everything she did – or more precisely, did wrong. But when the old housekeeper discovered she had no decent stockings, by the afternoon three new pairs had been delivered to the kitchen. She often wondered how the housekeeper knew. Never had she been so embarrassed, but exceedingly grateful. In fact, she resolved to be careful with two of the pair and save one set for Stephaney.
The distinct sound of people yawning echoed along the quiet graveyard beside the church, as tired looking parishioners made their way out into the grey wintery day. Another one of her uncle’s riveting sermons, no doubt.
Hopefully, Henrietta would still be inside, far too busy meeting with yet another committee – this one for the coming Christmas dance. Though her uncle never fully approved of such festivities, Henrietta seemed to revel in be
ing the centre of attention no matter what the occasion. And from what Annabelle’s mother had told her, it appeared Henrietta hoped to press Lord Etford into hosting the dance at Etford Park this year.
Shaking her head at her aunt’s grand designs, she wondered just how Henrietta intended to broach the subject to a man who would sooner swallow poison than do anything remotely related to Christmas.
Two little children dashed past her, dragging a small wooden sled behind them. She smiled at their sparkling laughter. Well, at least there were some who knew how to enjoy themselves.
Taking no chances on being conscripted into collecting prayer books or cleaning the church floor, she picked up her basket, and made her way to the kitchen door of the cottage before her aunt could spy her near the vicarage.
Her mama will be so thrilled with the lovely treats, and there was enough to share with her aunt and uncle. She sighed and shook her head. Despite the way her aunt treated her family, she couldn’t bring herself not to be generous with her good fortune. Hopefully mama and Stephaney will make their selections before Henrietta elected to keep the lot.
Pausing by the small kitchen window, she peered inside and smiled at the sight of her mama at the table, a teapot and cups set beside her.
But the joy soon faded from her face. Her poor mama sat there laboring with a needle and thread. Was there no end to Henrietta’s constant demands?
She reached into her pocket and made sure the coins Mrs Godfrey had given her were still there. If only her wages were more - anything to take them away to their own little cottage. But soon…soon she would be earning enough in London and be able to send for her family.
Then a glint of shiny metal caught her eye.
On the tip of her mother’s forefinger sat a tiny silver thimble. Papa’s thimble? Her mother had lost it months ago.
She turned the door knob and pushed, as her mother looked up with eyes red and swollen. Her heart constricted at the sight.
‘Lily!’ A basket of mending toppled to the floor from her mother’s lap. She near dropped the hamper as she rushed to greet her dear mama.
