Aunt Gacia, attired in dressing gown and frilled cap, crowded next to him and leaned forward. “You have awakened poor Mr. Lightner! For shame!” An instant later she added, “But we are not complaining, my dears! Of course, you may do as you like in your own home! I have always said it and always shall!”
A few rooms down, Lenora also unlatched her window. Darby was not too exhausted to note that her step-cousin’s hair flowed across her shoulders in golden waves, and her pink robe left little to be imagined in the early morning light.
The widow yawned fetchingly and leaned her arms across the embrasure. “What goes on? Am I missing an excitement?”
“You are missing nothing!” Alexander declared fervently, consuming her appearance like a starving dog, Darby saw with narrowing eyes. “Merely a little confusion over the actor. Forgive us for disturbing your slumber over such a trifle!”
“Trifle?” Lenora straightened, looking hungry as a wolf herself. “I would call that no trifle! Michelangelo’s David, would be more apt!”
As one, Darby and Alexander turned to see Simon, a wide smile upon his face, emerge from behind the hedge. Jumping and fawning, Caesar and Augustus escorted him on one side, while Cleopatra nuzzled the arm on his other. When she caught sight of her mistress, Cleopatra lowered her head ashamedly but did not desert her post.
Darby’s breath caught in her throat. Simon wore the breeches he’d worn the previous night, but his chest, calves, and feet were bare. Like tiny drops of rain, perspiration glittered on the pale hair that covered his chest. His breeches, also dampened with sweat, clung to his body and outlined the muscles of his thighs. She had not known a man’s legs could curve so graciously yet look so strong.
All this she saw in the instant before Simon called cheerily, “Good morning. I see you set the dogs on me after all, Alexander. Guess it’s lucky I have a way with animals.”
He stooped to pat Cleopatra’s head and scratch behind her ears.
Alexander, who had been too incensed to speak until this moment, stepped protectively in front of his sister. “What’s the meaning of this exhibition? Why are you parading yourself indecently in front of innocent females? Darby, cover your eyes.”
“Alex,” Darby whispered warningly. She peered around her brother’s shoulder long enough to see the surprise and indignation on Simon’s face, then averted her gaze as she was bid. It was as she thought. Her angel had made another innocent mistake. Of course, he would think nothing of appearing half-naked—probably would think nothing of appearing entirely naked for that matter. Like in the Garden of Eden, there would be no shame in heaven.
The thought made her grow uncomfortably hot. All of the blood in her body drained to her feet, and she felt faint.
But if there was no shame in heaven, why, then, had he become embarrassed about the gap in her robe last night? Was there one standard for men and another for women in heaven, too? If so, the golden city was not as enticing as she once thought.
“I wasn’t parading myself in front of anyone,” Simon disputed. “I was out here alone until the dogs woke everybody up and started people looking out their windows.”
“That’s my fault,” Darby said from behind Alexander’s back. “I caught a glimpse of you from my bedroom and thought something was chasing you.”
She could sense the smile on Simon’s face. “I appreciate your concern, Darby. I was just taking my morning jog.”
“Morning jog?” Alexander repeated scornfully.
“Yes. If I’m going to eat eighty percent fat in my diet for the next month, I have to exercise or I’ll be a blimp when I leave.”
Alexander stared. “I suppose it’s because you’re an American, but half the time I don’t know what you’re talking about. Not that it matters, for you never say anything worth hearing. In any wise, you have no excuse to make such a spectacle of yourself.”
“Look, you, I wore this because it’s all I have. I hope you didn’t think I was going to sweat up my jacket and shirt, too. And I did try to run before anybody else got up. If I’m a spectacle, blame yourself.”
Darby could feel Alexander stiffening. Why could these two not get along?
“Don’t become angry,” she whispered to her brother. “Please.”
Uncle Richard’s voice drifted toward them, unpleasant as a donkey braying. “What are you saying down there?”
“Yes, Alexander,” Lenora joined. “Won’t you move aside a bit? We can’t see—I mean, we can’t hear a thing!”
Alexander gave her an extended look of shock.
“Lenora, darling!’’ cried Aunt Gacia, trilling an alarmed laugh. “Do stop teasing Alexander, or he will think you mean it!’’ She turned to her nephew and pressed her hand across her heart. “She does not, you know. Lenora does not eavesdrop or want to see things she shouldn’t.” Pointedly she inquired, “Do you, my dear?”
A resigned expression crossed the young woman’s face. “No,” Lenora said pensively. “I had best dress for church like the good girl I am.” She latched her window and turned away.
“Lenora sure has a great sense of humor,” Simon remarked. “An excellent woman.”
“Did I ask for an opinion?” Alexander retorted. “You go inside now. Any more nonsense and I will throw you out, birthday performer or not.”
Darby exclaimed and walked in front of her brother. When he tried to push her back, she brushed his hands away. She was careful to keep her eyes away from Simon, however.
“I shall speak to Beckett immediately. He can begin tailoring your new clothes today. We’ll also ask him to make some light apparel that will be suitable for your running exercise.”
“Wait a moment,” Alexander said. “Do you mean to provide clothing for this man as well as food and shelter? From the first I thought him a leech, and apparently I was right.”
“Well, he cannot go about like that, can he?’’ she argued. “Think of it as your Christian duty, Alex.”
“I’m thinking of it as your folly,” he snapped, and walked away. After taking no more than a half-dozen steps, he turned back and seized her hand, pulling her after him.
“I fear you will have to miss church,” Darby called over her shoulder, her gaze jumping over her angel’s golden figure to the hedges and trees on either side of him. “I don’t imagine your, er, clothing will dry in time. But this will be an excellent opportunity for Beckett to measure you for your clothes. Perhaps Simbar can be found to trim your hair as well.”
“You’re very kind,” Simon replied.
“You have lost all good sense,” said Alexander to his sister, and jerked her into the house.
* * *
Darby was so distracted during the morning service that when the time came to shake the Reverend Victor Suttner’s hand afterward, she could not look him in the eye. She was certain that if the vicar had any notion of the scandalous direction of her thoughts during his message, he would harvest fodder for a month of sermons or more.
She could not stop thinking about her angel. When she sang the congregational hymns, she heard Simon’s expressive voice speaking her name. Opening the book of Common Prayer, she read the words, but recalled Simon’s: I’m not absolutely perfect in this form. I make mistakes and plenty of them.
What, exactly, did that mean?
Could he, for example, make the mistake of taking her in his arms? Kissing her, perhaps?
How she had blushed and squirmed on the bench when that thought entered her brain. She was astonished lightning did not scorch her into ashes. Yet she could not stop her imaginings. Her gaze roamed from the vicar to the Old Testament stories depicted on the stained-glass windows to the dark, lustrous wood lining the ceiling and walls. She squeezed her eyes shut again and again. Nothing helped. Simon’s image superimposed itself over all.
And not only this morning’s bare-chested vision, either; she saw him in many guises. His laughable, costumed entry into their home last night. The earnestness with which he presented his horrible miss
ion to her—a mission she was still determined to foil. His concern for her safety when she saw him before, and the odd clothes he wore then. And how he had appeared the very first time she spotted him in the wood—bearded, hair unwashed and uncombed, eyes tortured with sorrow—looking for all the world like a lost soul.
What terrible blow could bring an angel to such grief? Had he failed on one of his missions? It made her very curious of a sudden.
At least he no longer looked so abandoned, though a sad expression often stole across his face. She would like to see the sorrow gone entirely.
Her thoughts became so preoccupied that not only did she fail to listen to the sermon, but she had no inkling of its subject. Thus, when the service at last ended, she passed by the vicar as quickly as she decently could and hurried over to the Wallaces, who were standing on the grass a few feet from the road.
Alexander and the rest of the family followed. They formed a companionable circle, one of many which dotted the churchyard, this being the most convenient time of the week for friends and acquaintances to greet one another and exchange gossip. The sun glared down, quickening everyone’s Sunday-best into brilliant colors and warming the gentlemen’s hats and the ladies’ bonnets into hot coals. A few children, driven mad by the beauty of the day, dashed from group to group yelling, laughing, and making winsome nuisances of themselves.
As Alexander had forecast, Mrs. Wallace extended an invitation for afternoon tea.
“I want everyone to come,” she said. “Bring Mr. Heathershaw and Mr. Garrett as well.”
“Don’t feel you must extend an invitation to them,” Alexander said. “I’m sure they won’t expect it.”
“Even though they don’t expect it, they’ll be very glad of your graciousness,” Darby smoothly added, giving her brother a forbidding look. “Both gentlemen enjoy company.”
Mrs. Wallace scanned the faces surrounding her. “Did neither of them attend services this morning?”
“Heathershaw never comes, Mother,’’ Edward said, condemnation strong in his voice.
“Mr. Garrett would have attended, but he had not the clothes,” Darby added.
“The poor, unfortunate man,” said Mrs. Wallace. “Tell him he does not need clothes to visit us.” Her eyes widened. “Oh, dear. That did not come out quite right.”
“We know what you meant, precious Hortense,” said Aunt Gacia. “Unfortunately, Mr. Llghtner and I cannot join you. We were awakened early this morning and need our naps.”
“We do?” Uncle Richard barked.
“Yes, my darling,” said Aunt Gacia firmly, drilling him a message with her eyes. “This way, they will all be able to fit into one carriage.”
“Oh! Quite right,” answered her husband, looking forlorn. “Hope you aren’t having those sugared lemon things again, Hortense; hate to miss ‘em.”
Aunt Gacia continued as though uninterrupted. “It will be a tight squeeze even without us. Alexander, I shall depend upon you to sit beside our Lenora and keep her from being crushed!”
Alexander, eyeing Lenora and blushing like a girl, said he would be glad to do so. After Mrs. Wallace set a time for the gathering, the group dispersed to their carriages.
* * *
Over the cold luncheon that was served at Brightings on Sundays, Darby could hardly stop staring at Simon. He again wore his blue costume, but his hair had been cropped a la Titus and looked quite wonderfully different. To her way of thinking, the haphazard lengths suited him, bringing the lean beauty of his face to greater notice. She could not help missing the romantic aura of his longer tresses, however. To make amends for her vacillating feelings, she complimented the new style more than once.
There was little need for her to do so. Her aunt and uncle enthused over his fashionable crop, as did Lenora and Claude. Only Alexander remained quiet.
Simon took his shearing gracefully. He did not cast regretful looks at Darby for being the cause of it, though more than once his fingers reached to toss back hair that no longer existed.
After luncheon and an hour’s rest, the young people set out for the Wallaces’ in the family’s best carriage. Alexander sat between his sister and Lenora while Simon and Claude sat opposite.
As they traveled, Darby tried to show Simon the coal fields that supplied fuel for the potteries. She often lifted her hand to the window, meaning to remark upon the wonders of nature that remained despite industrial growth—the river Trent, for one, or for another, the rolling countryside dotted with islands of trees. But every time she drew breath to speak, Lenora launched into her own observances. The chattering widow managed to command Simon’s attention for the entire thirty-minute journey.
By the time the driver halted the carriage at the Wallaces’ red-bricked, extended cottage, Darby’s ears burned with irritation, and she knew her brother flamed beside her. He did not speak once as they walked to the front door.
When they were admitted, the housekeeper escorted them to the Wallaces, who were waiting in the withdrawing room. This chamber had long since ceased to surprise Darby, but now she wondered what Simon thought of Mrs. Wallace’s decorating scheme, if an angel had time to think of such things. The older lady often voiced her opinion that couches and loveseats made unwilling companions, and her furniture reflected that sentiment. Solitary chairs, their styles ranging from Queen Anne to Sheraton with no perceived similarity in wood or upholstery, were set in a large half-circle around the fireplace. The floor was wooden with no rugs, other than an old hunting tapestry which Mrs. Wallace had caused to be placed in front of the fire. Upon it sat the room’s one table, which was a low, round one. The walls were starkly white with no paintings upon them, Mrs. Wallace believing that decorations distracted one from the pleasures of conversation.
Darby often wondered why the overall effect of the chamber was not barren and institutional, but somehow it was not. Perhaps the pleasantness of the room’s owners warmed it.
Upon their entrance, Alexander suddenly became animated. “You look like spring in that yellow gown,” he told Evelyn loudly, taking the seat nearest hers. “Quite pretty.”
“Why, thank you, Alex,” Evelyn said, her eyes shining at this unaccustomed tribute. She smoothed a wrinkle from her skirt, then looked at him with shy hope.
Darby watched them glumly as she sat opposite in a satinwood Hepplewhite chair. She saw at once that her brother wished to make Lenora jealous, or to punish her for her attentions to Simon; and it dismayed her to think he would try in this manner. How could he be so insensitive of Evelyn’s feelings? Did he think she had none?
But her friend’s heart was not all that worried Darby. It seared her to know Alex’s emotions were so deeply invested in Lenora. Surely his attachment did not mean Simon was right. She knew such a joining would spell everlasting hurt for her brother. And though she had rather be injured a million times herself than see Alex suffer pain, it was better he be wounded a little now than thrown beneath the axe later.
Perhaps Alex needed a sound thrashing to set his thinking straight. There was a time when she was the one to do it, but not anymore, not since their sixteenth year when he traitorously bloomed several inches taller than she.
“Have you lost your best friend?” asked Edward, leaving his mother to take the chair beside Darby. “You look like it.”
“Do I? I’m sorry.” She barely acknowledged him, having now become distracted by the spectacle of Simon trying to find a seat. He moved toward one, then, seeing Lenora behind him, stopped and gestured politely for her to sit. She smiled brightly and inclined her head for him to go first. Obviously, he wanted to sit apart from her, and just as obviously she was determined he would not. He moved off again, Lenora trailing him like a baby chick, yet somehow managing to appear graceful rather than ridiculous. Had Darby tried a similar action, Alex would have laughed her to scorn.
Finally, Simon did the unbelievable and sat beside Alexander, there being no chair to his other side. Lenora selected the seat next to Mrs. Wall
ace as if she’d intended to do so all along. Claude eased into the ornate Adam chair beside Lenora and looked very pleased with himself.
Mrs. Wallace clapped her hands commandingly, though in truth there was scant conversation to be quieted. “I thought we might gather here awhile before going outside for our tea. It will be cooler a little later on, and you young people may wish to walk among the flowers.”
She paused, waiting for the murmurs of agreement which immediately came, then continued, “I shan’t mind being left alone when you do so, though I feel sad that Gacia and Richard did not come.” Her voice began to thicken, and she brought her ever-present handkerchief to her eyes. “It does not matter, for I have grown accustomed to being by myself.”
“Mother,” Edward said consolingly, hurrying around the table to press her hand. “When do we ever leave you?” While his parent sniffled, he turned to face the others. “Forgive us. You all know”—his gaze flitted over Simon—“well, most of you know how tender-hearted my mother is, and that she is given to bouts of low spirits of late. The physician assures us it will soon pass, so pray do not mind a few tears.”
Darby forgot about Alexander and Simon for the moment and gave Edward a consoling look. Except in the rare instance of his taking a dislike of someone, he possessed the sweetest of spirits and always had. Even in the midst of their most devilish pranks—of which he was often instigator—he would be the one to caution of possible devastating outcomes. Should a quarrel spring between two or more of them, Edward served as peacemaker. No one ever became angry with Edward himself. He cared too much, just as he cared now for his mother. He was intensely loyal to those he loved.
Darby guessed that Mr. Wallace’s demise had something to do with the forming of Edward’s character; her friend had to assume the role of family protector at the age of ten. She never doubted that he was the most worthy of the four of them.
Mrs. Wallace smiled bravely and brought Edward’s hand to her cheek. “You are the best of all sons,” she said. “And Evelyn the best of daughters.”
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