by Joyce Alec
“What is your name?” Eliza asked, keeping her gaze on the path before her.
“Phillip, my lady,” Anthony replied, thinking on his feet and giving her one of his middle names.
“What are you tasked with on the estate?”
“Gardener, ma’am,” Anthony answered, without hesitation.
“I see,” Eliza replied quietly, continuing along her path. Becoming lost in her own thoughts, they walked in silence for a long while, stopping only when Eliza became aware of their surroundings.
“Have we walked far, Phillip?”
Anthony stopped for a moment, studying the trees around them. “Quite far, my lady. The woods can pull you in if you are not careful.”
“Indeed,” Eliza sighed, turning around. “I suppose I should return to the house now.”
“Of course, ma’am.” Allowing Eliza to lead the way, Anthony walked a step or two behind her, directing her path whenever they came to a fork in the trail.
She was a beautiful woman, but something was clearly upsetting her. Not that he wanted to become involved, in any case, but the constant sadness in her eyes unnerved him a little. He wished she would smile, for he thought that it would utterly transform her face. Her blonde hair hung in a long braid down her back, and he was sure she was not wearing a corset. Perhaps her lack of correct dress was down to the fact that she had thought no one would see her on her escapades. Smirking, he wondered how she would feel when she discovered the truth of his identity, whenever he chose to reveal it. That would put the girl in her place.
4
Eliza made her way back to her bedchamber unseen, scampering up the stairs two at a time. She had not been in her room more than five minutes, when there came a knock at the door, and a maid entered with a cup of steaming tea. Thanking her, Eliza sent the maid away and proceeded to drink it gratefully, the hot liquid warming her chilled bones.
That servant, Phillip, had been most presumptuous in his behavior and she was not sure she liked it. Of course, she would never speak to Lord Bessington or his mother about any servant in their employ, unless their behavior became something worthy of dismissal. That being said, she found Phillip very forward, almost forcing her to agree that she would seek him out should she require another walk in the woods the following morning. However, Eliza could not pretend that the man did not have an effect on her, as much as she found him irritating.
He was a tall, strong man, clearly unafraid of hard work. She found herself drawn to his strength. Phillip, being a gardener, did not have to dress as the gentry might, meaning his half open shirt had allowed her to see more of a man than she ever had done before—not that she had looked, of course. She blushed at the thought, her pulse quickening a little. Pausing for a moment, she wondered why her breath had never caught at the sight of Lord Stockton in all his fine attire. John, whilst not a tall man, still had a presence about him, despite his slim build. The gardener had been tall and broad, with an imposing presence, and merely being in his company had made a warm excitement curl in her belly—something that had never occurred with John.
Taking a deep breath, Eliza gave herself a little shake. Now was not the time to be considering such things. She was practically betrothed to John, and she was sure that, were he to wear a shirt similar to the gardener’s, then she would have exactly the same reaction. Nodding to herself, she swept her thoughts to the side and rose to dress correctly, corset and all.
Anthony was back in his study, poring over the latest numbers from his accountant. Things looked to be on the rise, despite his mother’s insistence over the house party that pulled money from his accounts. Sitting back for a few moments, Anthony stretched, glad that his hard work was producing results. If only his morning walk had not been so disturbed.
Anthony frowned, remembering the girl. Discreet inquiries to the butler had acquired him a name, a Miss Elizabeth Williams, older sister to Sophie, whose mother was an old friend of the Lady Bessington's. Apparently, she was expected to announce her betrothal fairly soon to a Lord Stockton.
Life seemed to be going very well for Miss Williams, and Anthony wondered what had made her so upset. She was certainly a most unusual young lady, for he had never before met one that liked to take early walks in the morning. Most young women of his acquaintance did not rise before midday. Miss Williams certainly was a pretty little thing; her blue eyes and long blonde hair had not escaped his notice. She seemed very sure of herself, instantly assuming he was a servant in the master's household. He was sure she would return for another morning stroll, and he intended to use her to find out what his guests truly thought of him, mostly for his own amusement. Miss Williams would soon discover his true identity, and that brought a smile to his face. He could not fault her for assuming him to be a servant, given his state of dress, but he was sure she was simply another shallow, grasping, simpering miss, and it would be a pleasure to put her in her place. Smiling to himself, Anthony returned to his accounts, enjoying the peace and quiet.
Just as he had found the place where he had left off, the door opened, and his mother sailed in, a smile on her face. Groaning, Anthony got to his feet, certain that his mother was about to ask him something, and equally certain that he would turn down her request.
“Good morning, my dear!”
“Good morning, Mother. I trust you slept well?”
“Indeed. Now, Anthony, you did not return to the guests last evening, as you had said you would –”
“I did not say I would, Mother,” Anthony interrupted, sitting at his desk once more. “I merely said I might, should I complete my business for the day.” Annoyance crossed his mother’s face, but Anthony did not care. “I told you I would not take part in your house party; I would welcome the guests, but otherwise, I would be engaged with estate business.”
His mother huffed, plopping into a chair. “Anthony, why must you be so disagreeable? Many of our guests would greatly enjoy seeing you. There are many beautiful – and eligible – young women, who would relish the opportunity to spend some time with you!”
Anthony sighed, closing his eyes and rubbing his temples. So this was his mother’s game. “Mother, I am not interested in matrimony and, even if I were, I would not get my suggestions from you. I am perfectly capable of finding my own bride, should I decide to pursue such a thing.”
Another sigh met his ears. Anthony couldn’t stand the idea of his mother moaning at him for any length of time; it truly was becoming very wearisome.
"Mother, why do you not organize a ball to mark the end of the house party?" He saw his mother sit up a little straighter, her interest piqued. "If you promise not to intrude on my privacy for the remainder of the week, I shall attend your ball and visit each of your guests individually. Is that to your satisfaction?”
Mollified, his mother rose, a small smile spreading across her face. “Thank you, Anthony, I am sure our guests will appreciate your presence.”
“And you do love holding a ball, don’t you, Mother?”
Wagging her finger at him and muttering something about not being disrespectful to your mother, Lady Bessington exited the study, giving Anthony the peace he long desired.
Eliza grew more exhausted as the evening wore on. Lord Penn had been seated next to her at dinner, much to his delight and her distress. At one moment, she had felt his hand on her thigh and had frozen in shock. He had removed it soon after, but the threat was clear. Shaken to her core, Eliza had struggled through the remainder of the meal, grateful to leave the gentlemen to their sherry and cigars.
“Eliza, are you enjoying your time here?” Her sister Sophie sat down beside her, her eyes sparkling. “Isn’t Lady Bessington simply wonderful?”
Eliza nodded, noticing the men entering the drawing room. They had not spent long at the table, she mused. Perhaps they desired the ladies’ company. Turning to Sophie, she was surprised to see her eyes on Lord Stockton, following him around the room as he walked towards the pianoforte to assist Lady Elsie with th
e turning of the pages. How odd.
“And you, are you enjoying yourself, Sophie, dear?”
Startled, Sophie jumped and blushed, a guilty look on her face. “Very much! I have been told that we are to have a picnic the day after tomorrow. Is that not exciting?”
“Indeed,” Eliza replied, studying her sister carefully.
“Oh, I think Mama is calling me,” Sophie said, patting Eliza’s hand. “Please excuse me.”
Eliza, left alone with her own thoughts, considered her sister's behavior. She was sure that Sophie had been watching John, her own Lord Stockton, which seemed highly unusual.
To her own astonishment, she discovered that she did not feel in the least bit jealous. Perhaps it was because she was so sure of John's attachment to her that she felt no concern over Sophie's interest. Smiling to herself, she gave herself a mental shake. Of course that was the reason. Turning her attention to Lady Elsie's attempt at a sonata, Eliza allowed her gaze to linger on Lord Stockton. He was dressed in his wonderful evening attire, but she felt no excitement over his appearance, instead wondering what he would look like as a gardener.
5
“Good morning, Phillip.”
Anthony jumped, startled to hear another voice in the morning's quiet. He had found himself waiting at the entrance to the woods, should Miss Williams choose to take another quiet stroll. Apparently, she had.
“Good morning, my lady. I take it you need my assistance this morning.”
Eliza smiled a little, acknowledging his superior knowledge of the woods. “Indeed, Phillip, I believe I do. And please, call me Miss Williams.”
Without another word, she walked past him and into the woods, leaving Anthony in her wake. Forgetting about his servant façade for a moment, Anthony caught up with her almost immediately, seeing her surprise as he walked beside her. Cursing his negligence, he dropped a couple of steps behind her, as any servant would.
Eliza walked in silence for a long time, forgetting all about Phillip’s presence. A lump clogged her throat as the thought about her dilemma. On top of that, there was Lord Stockton and her sister. Her emotions rolled within her, tears threatening. It was as though the woods allowed her to be free in her feelings, unhindered in her expression of them. She was trapped in a cage, with Lord Penn her jailor. Her tears flowed freely now and she made no attempt to wipe them away.
Anthony grew concerned. This was now the second morning where this unwelcome guest had grown sorrowful in his presence. Almost unwillingly, he spoke to her gently.
“Is something the matter, Miss Williams?”
Stopping in her tracks, Eliza spun around to face him, hastily wiping her face. “Oh, I had quite forgotten you were there,” she replied, her attempts at cheerfulness falling vastly short. “I am quite well, just…troubled.”
Anthony tried his best not to be rattled, for normally he was not easily forgotten. Yet here, as a servant, it was as though he was invisible. "Should you like to speak of it?"
Cursing himself, he wondered why he had asked such a thing. It was probably some nonsense over a broken heart or some small slight by another lady of the ton.
Eliza considered the gardener's words. She had no one else to tell, and perhaps, simply speaking about it would relieve some of her anxiety. "I suppose I may as well, I am only forbidden to speak of it to anyone of consequence," her features clouded as she realized her poorly chosen words. "That is, I mean to say–"
Anthony, thoroughly intrigued by her words, interrupted her, ignoring her attempts to correct herself. “Forbidden?”
“Yes,” she replied, tears filling her eyes once more. “It is a long story, so I shall start at the beginning.”
She began to walk again, talking quickly, but walking slowly. Anthony felt his anger rise, the more she spoke. He knew little about Lord Penn, but to treat a lady in such a despicable manner was unacceptable.
“So, you see, Philip, I am quite at a loss,” Eliza finished, sobs beginning to interrupt her words. “If I give him the necklace, it will be the end of my mother. It is one of her most prized possessions but, if I do not, then …”
“Then your father will have his gambling debts exposed, called in, and you shall all be quite ruined,” Anthony finished, ensuring he had a clear picture.
“Indeed.” They walked in silence for a few moments, Eliza’s sobs punctuating the silence.
Anthony’s brow creased as he thought. “Why should you not tell Lord Stockton?”
“How do you know of Lord Stockton?” came the quick response, Eliza studying him curiously.
“Ah, well, news travels quickly below the stairs,” Anthony mumbled, fumbling for an answer. “Although no formal announcement has been made yet, I hear.” Relieved that she seemed satisfied with his answer, Anthony let out a breath.
"If I tell anyone of this matter, Lord Penn will ruin me entirely, ensuring I cannot show my face within society for the remainder of my days." She stopped for a moment, looking at him in the eye, but Anthony noticed a blush rising to her cheeks. "He put a hand on my leg last evening, under the dinner table."
There was silence for a moment, Eliza embarrassed by her own words and Anthony struggling against the desire to find Lord Penn and put a bullet through him.
“I see,” he managed, through gritted teeth, Lord Penn’s threat becoming abundantly clear. The man was strong, whilst Eliza was small and slight; he would have no problem overpowering her should he put his mind to it. Anthony was determined that Lord Penn should never have the opportunity.
“What of the earl?” he asked quietly, beginning to walk the path once more. “Would he not be able to assist you?”
Eliza let out a short laugh. "I should not think so. I have barely met the man, except for bumping into him in the hallway. By all accounts, he is a very studious and serious man, caring only for his books and estate business. I doubt he would look favorably on any attempt to engage him in my situation."
Anthony said nothing, wincing a little at the ring of truth her words held.
Eliza paused for a moment, exhaustion building. She felt weary, although telling Phillip her dilemma had caused her to feel a little less distressed. “Do you mind if we sit for a short while?”
Nodding, Anthony took a few steps off the path, leading Eliza to a small clearing that he knew was nearby. “Here,” he gestured to a couple of large stumps, waiting until she sat before sitting down himself.
“I am grateful to you, for listening to my complaint,” Eliza said softly, surprised at the feeling of friendship developing between them. “I have not been able to speak of it with anyone up till now, and I find that has lessened my burden a little.”
Anthony smiled the first genuine smile to cross his face since their first meeting. Eliza, seeing it, inhaled a long breath, realizing how handsome the gardener was. His black hair still fell in an untidy heap, and his boots were still dirty, but none of that stopped her unbound attraction to him. Letting out her breath slowly, she looked away, catching a falling leaf in her hand.
It would have surprised Eliza to know that the ‘gardener’ was having very similar thoughts. The look of pleasure on her face over something as simple as a falling leaf was a punch to his gut. Whilst Lord Penn was a despicable man, the desire to protect Eliza was something deeper than just a general concern.
“I suppose I should be getting back,” he heard her say softly. Getting to his feet quickly, he held out his hand to her, desiring both to help her up and to feel the touch of her hand.
Eliza, touched at the gardener’s thoughtfulness, gave him her hand without hesitation. To her surprise, it was soft and warm, with none of the callouses she would have expected from a working man.
“Thank you,” she stammered, aware that he had not let go of her hand and that she hadn’t pulled it away. They stood close to each other for a moment, Eliza feeling as though her heart was about to come out of her chest. His piercing blue eyes were roving all over her face, stopping at her lips. She licked
them self-consciously, unaware of the effect it had on Anthony.
Without being aware of it, Anthony caressed Eliza’s fingers, rubbing his thumb back and forth over the back of her hand, aware that her pulse was racing. If he was honest, it matched his own heart, as he found he simply couldn’t break the moment. She was so vulnerable, yet so strong, keeping all her anxieties and troubles to herself in order to protect her family. Her blond hair, tied back once more in a simple braid, tickled his fingers, and he lifted his hand to touch it. He heard Eliza catching her breath as he did so, the desire to kiss her growing stronger and stronger.
All of a sudden, Eliza took a step back, pulling her hand from Phillip's grip. Whatever had she been thinking? She was nearly betrothed to Lord Stockton and fraternizing with servants was a sure way to put that to an end. Telling herself that her pull to him was simply from his willingness to listen to her troubles, Eliza began walking back towards the path, nearly tripping in her hurry.
Equally frustrated – but for an entirely different reason – Anthony followed, walking the remainder of the journey back to the estate in silence.
6
The following morning, Eliza chose not to meet Phillip for her morning walk. Confused over her feelings towards him, she decided to remain in bed, waiting for the maid to bring her the usual cup of tea.
However, the knock at the door was not her maid, but her sister. It was highly unusual for her to be awake so early, although Eliza welcomed her in.
“How do you feel?” Sophie asked, sitting on the end of Eliza’s bed. “Are you quite recovered?”
Remembering that she had pleaded a headache the previous evening, Eliza nodded. "Much better, I thank you. Did you have a pleasant evening?"
