Love Inspired Historical February 2016 Box Set

by Karen Kirst

  Her knees were still shaking. What had she to fear? After all, even as furious as he was, Reed would never cause her harm. It was just being close to that much raw, passionate anger was a daunting experience—rather like standing on the precipice of one of the cliffs out on the moor, unsure if one slip of her foot could hurl her headlong over the edge.

  Jane stood waiting at the top of the stairs. “What did my brother say?” She clasped her hands over Hannah’s arm. “Upon my word, you are trembling. Was he that awful?”

  “He was just… He was merely…” Hannah could not catch her breath. “Could we go to your room?”

  “Of course. Poor dear.” Jane led her down the hallway and into her room. “I am so sorry he was mean to you. I can’t thank you enough for even trying to talk sense to him.” Jane pressed her into a chair and scurried back to close her door. “I suppose, then, the talk didn’t go well?”

  “He doesn’t want you to associate with the Holdcrofts any longer.” Nan smoothed her hands over her skirt in an effort to calm their shakiness. “He feels—very strongly, I must say—that he has his duties and you have yours, and that personal feelings must not get in the way of these obligations.”

  Jane sat in the chair opposite, her long, dark hair swinging around her shoulders. “Yes, I know. He’s made that quite clear to me, too.”

  Hannah glanced at Jane. Had he shown his anger to her as well? Somehow, she needed to relate the past few moments to someone else—to understand and to dissect what had happened—because it was so very far from what she had assumed would happen. “Jane, to own the truth, he seemed quite incensed.”

  “Yes. I can imagine. John can have quite a temper when he chooses.” Jane heaved a great sigh. “He’s very upset that he must live here and be master rather than live a debauched bachelor life in London.”

  “This went beyond mere disappointment.” Hannah suppressed a shiver. This was fury in its most basic form. So strange when, really, all he was being asked to do was what every other man of his class was called to do. Such a basic fact of life should have been readily apparent and understood. Why, then, the ferocity of his countenance? His eyes had smoldered like coals in a grate. “This was inexplicable, really.”

  Jane leaned forward, grasping Hannah’s hands in hers. “You must help me, then. You’ll be returning to Tansley often. When you go back, would you send word to Timothy? I can even write a letter and you can give it to him.”

  “What?” Hannah drew back sharply. “You intend to continue, even though your brother has told you no?”

  “If John wants me to have a London Season, then I will go along with it. But I shan’t marry anyone except Timothy Holdcroft. I want to tell him so. I want to let him know that no matter how many crowded ballrooms I am pressed into—thanks to my brother’s pride—I will wed no one but the man I truly love.” Jane gave her a tremulous smile and unshed tears sparkled in her eyes.

  Hannah sat still for a moment, trying to wrap her mind around the issue at hand while still reeling from her encounter with Reed. She knew nothing of the Holdcrofts, save that Mrs. Hugh bought a few bonnets from her and seemed a nice enough woman. Had Jane fallen head over heels for a man who was merely after her fortune? Or had she stumbled across true love? “I cannot, in all fairness, go against your brother,” she began slowly.

  Jane released her grasp on Hannah’s arms as a single tear trickled down her cheek.

  “Please help me, Nan! I mean, Hannah.” In her obvious distress, Jane must have forgotten how she should refer to her dressmaker, even though her brother had made it abundantly clear upon their arrival. “I must be with Timothy. Ever since we left Tansley, I can think of nothing but him. I know he is the right man for me.”

  What could she do? Jane was, quite frankly, the only friend she had apart from her sisters. Jane was a wonderful person, kind and generous. Though her romanticism did put one in mind of Becky, how could she not feel a pull to come to her new friend’s aid?

  On the other hand, she had already discussed this matter directly with her employer. Reed was the man who offered her this position in the first place, giving her the chance to prove herself on her own two feet. More to the point, Reed was the man who would assure that she was paid to do the job he hired her to do. What kind of trust could she build if she went behind his back, when he’d made his position about the Holdcrofts perfectly clear?

  “I will not do anything covert or untoward,” she pronounced. “Perhaps, over time, I can help you bring your brother around to your position. I can also find out if the Holdcrofts are good, honest people.”

  Jane opened her mouth to protest, but Hannah cut her off with a wave of her hand. “Yes, yes, I know that you hold the entire family in high regard, but I shall investigate them anyway. I consider it my duty to you as a friend.” When she returned to Tansley, she would become as stealthy as a thief-taker, gathering clues without arousing suspicion.

  Jane finally sagged against the back of her chair, as though their conversation had exhausted her. “Very well. I know it’s a lot to ask of you, Hannah. I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t feel you were a dear friend.”

  Hannah’s heart warmed. It was difficult indeed not to be swept off her feet by the sheer novelty of her new situation. Over the years, her position in the Siddons family had shifted. Once considered a vital part of the triangle of sisters, she felt increasingly left out and left behind. She was the scold, the nag, the voice of stolid reason. To her hotheaded siblings, she was the dousing of cold water being poured from a bucket. She was told what to do, expected to follow orders and often protested against her assignments. Her sisters loved her, of course, and she loved them. But it had been a long time since she felt welcomed in anyone’s life.

  At Grant Park, she mattered. Of course, she was being paid to do a job. But it was a pleasant change all the same.

  “I like it here very much,” she ventured. It was difficult to voice her opinion of the Reeds out loud, for biting back her own emotions had become second nature to her over the years. “I consider you a dear friend, too.”

  “Thank you. I feel so much better knowing that you will help me.” Jane leaped from her velvet chair and trotted over to the window, throwing the lace curtains aside. “What a lovely day it is, after all.”

  Hannah laughed. “Now that we have the problem of your suitor under control, shall we turn our minds to your wardrobe? It is, after all, the reason I am here.”

  Jane nodded, and Hannah quit the room in search of her sketch pad. As she walked down the hallway to her own suite of rooms, the image of John Reed’s burning eyes would not abate. If only she was a good artist, perhaps she could sketch a picture of him as he looked at that moment, as he clenched his hands so the knuckles turned white, his handsome face tense with suppressed rage.

  Perhaps if she committed the memory to paper, it would cease to flicker in her own mind.

  *

  Get ahold of yourself, man. John paced the floor of his study like a caged tiger, unable to calm himself since he lost control of his emotions while talking to Siddons. Why had she driven him to a place that he had hidden so artfully that even he forgot it existed? She really could get under a person’s skin. Small wonder, then, that her sisters had precious few kind words to say about her.

  That wasn’t fair. Nor was it gentlemanly. It wasn’t Siddons’s fault that he hated Grant Park and that he despised shouldering his burden. After all, she couldn’t know that work and responsibilities and woes had been his mother’s demise.

  His thoughts shut down, as though somewhere in the recesses of his mind, someone had blown on a candle, causing it to gutter but not entirely burn out.

  What could he do? There was nowhere to go. Grant Park was miles away from fun and frivolity. He could drink, but drinking alone was never much fun, and usually made him grow more maudlin and morose.

  He had no friends here within visiting distance. Paul was two hours away, and he had just come from Paul’s anyway.
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br />   Irritated beyond measure, he rang the bell.

  Within moments, his butler, Forset, answered. “Yes, sir?” He had been in service to the family since John’s mother and father were wed and had seen Grant Park through the difficulty of Mother’s passing. He was the foundation of the house, and as such, always cast a decidedly baleful eye on John. Normally this would be the start of some great fun on John’s part, but not today.

  “What, if anything, is going on in my house?” He needed a distraction. Anything would be welcome.

  “I beg your pardon, sir?” Forset’s countenance remained impassive, save for a small twitch in the vicinity of his eyebrow.

  “My sister. Siddons. Where are they and what are they doing?” The unreasonable feeling of anger simply would not abate.

  “I believe they are working on Miss Jane’s wardrobe, sir. Plans for her Season in London.” Forset bowed as though he had fulfilled his duty and would now be on his way, off to check on something in the kitchens or whatever it was that butlers did.

  “Just a moment, Forset.” He struggled to curb the harsh edge that still gave his voice that bite. “What else is going on?”

  “Going on? I don’t quite understand your meaning.” Forset faced him, a look of genuine confusion on his wrinkled countenance. “Not meaning to be impolite, sir. I just don’t understand what you wish to know.”

  “Grant Park is a vast estate, full of all manner of things of which I am supposed to be master.” Did Forset’s eyebrow raise just a hair at “supposed?”

  “Now, I wish to know if anything of interest is happening today. Something of which I should be a part.” He lifted one shoulder defensively, as though someone might strike him. He should know all the doings in his own home. It was, after all, his business.

  “Well, I am still not certain I catch your meaning, but there are a few interesting things that have transpired this morning.” Forset nodded thoughtfully. He no longer appeared confused or annoyed, but merely absorbed with trying to recall all the minutiae of the morning’s events. John’s heart surged with gratitude. “Aside from Miss Siddons working with Miss Jane, there are some workmen building a new pigsty farther away from the barn. Another group of men are working out in the fields. Cook is preparing the afternoon meals, not just for the main house but also food to be carried out to the workers. There were a litter of puppies born in the barn, as well.”

  That was the only thing that sounded remotely interesting. He stroked his chin. “Very well. All right, thank you, Forset.”

  Forset bowed, his face returning to the same impenetrable mask of courtesy he always wore, and left.

  John waited a reasonable amount of time after his butler left and then dashed from the room. He didn’t want to seem overly enthusiastic about a litter of puppies, after all. Fawning over adorable fuzzy creatures was his sister’s purview, not his.

  As he passed through the back corridor, he grabbed a greatcoat off a hook. There were several of them in a row, waiting to be used by houseguests as they tramped off over the moors or through the pastures. Having several warm coats made in a variety of sizes had been his mother’s idea, born when a houseguest neglected to bring his own cloak and the weather turned suddenly foul. From that moment on, Mother saw to it that all the comforts of one’s own home were available to everyone who came to Grant Park.

  She saw to everyone’s needs, and not her own.

  He tugged the warm wool around his shoulders and strode out the back door. The gentle spring sunshine gilded the pastures, highlighting the lingering frost on the grass, which glittered as though diamond dust had been scattered over the fields. He paused a moment, taking in the view. Yes, Grant Park was a pretty property. Anyone would agree that a man would be well-set indeed to have such a home. It was mildly prosperous, too. Large and with enough resources that it took care of itself, in a way. If only he could find a way to manage it from afar.

  The horse stable was only a short distance from the house, and it was likely that one of the grooms had put the dog there to give birth. He continued on his way, breathing deeply the scents of hay and horses. There was something about those smells that banished all his bad feelings to the back of his mind, along with the anxiety, and the grief.

  He spied the head groom as he drew nearer to the redbrick barn. “Hullo, Davis!” he called, cupping his hands around his mouth. “Heard we have some new arrivals.”

  “We do indeed,” Davis called back. He tugged at his cap. “Come and take a look.”

  When John got close enough to Davis, he held out his hand. Davis clasped it warmly, the wrinkles around his eyes deepening. He couldn’t stand on ceremony with Davis—one of the best grooms not just in this county, but likely in all of England. The man could heal lame horses, mend broken stirrups, help puppies and kittens into the world and break green colts, all with a genuine kindness of nature that made him one of the most beloved denizens of the Park.

  “It’s our collie girl, Madge,” he said, motioning for John to follow. “She had four this morning. Two boys and two girls, quite a little set of pups!”

  John followed him into the barn, which was warm and sweet with the smell of hay and oats. There, in the corner of a stall, lay Madge. Her kind brown eyes regarded him warily. Four little mites, their eyes still tightly shut, mewed and rolled about in the straw.

  “Easy there, Madge.” John kept his voice soft and low. “I just came to see them. I promise I won’t disturb you.”

  Madge put her head down and closed her eyes, but her ears remained pricked and at attention.

  “She’s a good mother. Those will be fine dogs, too. I think they would be good at sheep-herding, or perhaps even hunting. If they’re at all like her, they could be trained to do anything.”

  John nodded, watching the mother and babies. These little ones were learning their way about, just as he was learning his, stumbling along until he got the rhythm of life at Grant Park. “I’d like to help you with their training,” he blurted. All at once, the thought of helping raise and train these dogs was interesting, an antidote to the blank disgust he felt with the Park and himself in general.

  “Of course,” Davis replied.

  They stood in silence, John’s arms hanging over the stall door as he watched mother and pups. This was a new beginning for them—and for him, as well.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Hannah strode off over the pasture at Grant Park, a lady of leisure for the moment. Funny, she’d never had time to relax before. Not really. She had always worked, from sunup to sundown. If she wasn’t doing needlework, she was stirring the fire to life, or helping to make meals, or mending her own clothing. The Siddons girls were industrious, because they had to be. At Grant Park, someone else stirred the fires and made the meals. Her sole responsibility was to make Jane Reed beautiful. Now that job was well in hand, she had time to herself, to enjoy the delights Grant Park had to offer.

  They had worked on that together in Jane’s room for precisely an hour before Jane turned to her. “I must go study my violin,” she had pronounced, and then skipped off to do precisely that. Hannah could spend her time profitably, perhaps by organizing her sketches or going through her notions basket to come up with pieces of trim for bonnets, but somehow the outdoors just called her. It was a particularly fine day, and she would have plenty of time for work in the afternoon.

  She picked up her skirts and made her way down a small hill, then turned and looked behind her. Grant Park stood majestically against the bright blue sky, rising up from the moor as though it was a mere extension of nature. She had never been particularly fond of big houses. When she looked at a big house, all she could usually see was work and expense. She and Becky often played a game she called “Other Lives” when traveling, and they would picture their lives being different in the different houses they passed by. She could drive Becky to furious distraction by merely commenting on the cost of glazing windows, but there it was. Big houses meant big expense, and in her heart of hear
ts she knew she must be thankful for the small houses that the Siddonses would come to call home. She knew even in girlhood that she must not grow enamored of an elaborate mode of living. There was no way on earth she would attract the master of a large house such as this. Better to be happy with her lot in life.

  Grant Park was different, though. It called to her, for some reason. When she gazed at its lovely redbrick facade as she did now, she just saw the grandeur of it, and its proud tradition. Beautiful women had danced there, handsome men had come there for the hunt and adorable babies had been born there. This was a home for generations, a true family manor. It was strange and a little sad that neither Reed nor Jane seemed to appreciate what they possessed.

  She set off at a brisk pace. Just a quick walk around the grounds would help her feel more familiar with the Park, and would allow her some time to enjoy this glorious weather. She walked toward a squat redbrick building, built in a similar manner to the house so they matched one another nicely. It must be the barn. She wouldn’t disturb the grooms as they went about their work, but it would be nice to see if the Grant Park stables had as many carriages and fine horses as her brothers-in-law had at their country homes.

  As she skirted the edge of the field, John Reed came striding up from the barn, something small and furry tucked into the lapel of his greatcoat. When he caught sight of her, he paused, a sheepish look stealing over his face. He was like a schoolboy who’d been caught stealing apples.

  She really wasn’t prepared to see him, either. After all, the last time they spoke, he had been in a high temper, and she wasn’t at her best herself. The only thing she could do was to brazen it out. Highly emotional scenes simply weren’t her forte.