“Mrs. Farrington, where is Miss Cozette?” His voice boomed from the open hall above, urging my footsteps faster down the back steps.
Keeping careful not to make a sound, I tiptoed across the brick kitchen tile and eased open the back door, thinking to hide out in the barn until Master Archibald left. Instead, I ran headlong into Mr. Jensen’s chest as I stepped out into the late, gray December afternoon.
“Whoa, now Miss Cozette, where are ye sneakin’ away to—” he eyed me speculatively “—or from?”
He grabbed my shoulders and smiled down at me. Up to this moment, I’d had very little contact with Jensen. He kept to himself in the small room off the stable and with few exceptions rarely came to the house. He was, I hoped, a reasonable man, who would not require lengthy explanations.
“Mr. Jensen, I need to ask that you trust me and require nothing more from me at this time.” I searched his face, weathered tan with countless hours in the sun, but a handsome man of Gaelic origin. I thought how he might look were he clean-shaven. His dark brows were thick over gentle blue eyes and his smile even. His only vice was the pipe that clung constantly between his teeth.
“How old are you, Mr. Jensen?” I was truly curious, though not in an intimate way of course.
“Now why would a child such as you be interested in such a thing?”
My brow rose indignant that he thought me as innocent as all that.
“I am no child, Mr. Jensen, and well aware of the ways of the world, if you must know.”
“Are ye now?”
He dropped his hands away and stepped aside to allow me passage.
“So you’re sneakin’ out to see yer true love, then?”
His blue eyes twinkled.
The chill of the December afternoon began to seep into my bones. “No sir, but I would like to ask your word that you tell no one, even Master Archibald, that you’ve seen me today.”
His gaze narrowed on mine and after a moment, to my surprise, he nodded. I glanced over my shoulder, listening for my master’s footsteps. Unable to entertain the reasons Mr. Jensen would so readily comply, I was still hopeful he would stand true to his word.
“Miss Cozette!”
Master Archibald’s voice rang from inside the first floor of the house.
“Quick, to the arbor. There’s a cellar door, stay there until he’s gone.”
He pushed me toward the corner of the house and I scurried across the crunch of the grass stiff already with frost. There would surely be snow before morning.
“Jensen, I wish to speak with you.”
My master’s voice had the compelling tone of authority. I dare say his employees beneath him quaked in their boots when called by name.
“Ah, good day to ye, sir, I was just comin’ to tell ye that the team’s ready to take you to town. I’ll just be bringin’ them ’round front if you’re ready, then? By the looks of things, we shouldn’t tarry, were I a bettin’ man, I’d venture there’s a good chance for snow by nightfall.”
The frigid stone at my back stuck fast to my uniform as I pressed against the corner of the house. I could see my frozen breath in the dusky twilight.
“I’ll be along straightaway, Mr. Jensen. Just a few minor details to take care of,” he huffed. “By the way, have you seen Miss Cozette? I was thinking perhaps she was down at the stables.”
“Out here? Why, no sir, with the weather being as cold as this, I’d think she would have better sense to stay indoors where it was warm. A fragile woman out here could catch pneumonia faster than I can shoe a horse.”
“Indeed.”
I glanced to my right, seeing in the shadows the slanted door jutting up from beneath the house. Holding my breath, I inched along the wall, my fingers turning numb from the cold. The crunch of gravel caught my attention and I looked up in time to see Mr. Coven in full stride coming up the kitchen path from the stables, dressed snug in a brown wool jacket. His long legs were encased in his black riding pants and black boots and at his neck was a cream-colored knit scarf that made me curious as to its maker. His dark hair captured in the scarf blew haphazardly around his fierce expression. Some days I imagined him as a warrior of old, a noble knight perhaps, alone on his quest, fiercely loyal to no one but his king. He saw me and he slowed.
I thought I might faint from the racing of my heart, nigh inside my throat by now. Hoping he saw me clear enough, I waved him away, and shook my head, hoping he would comply with my silent request.
His stride resumed, though I could see he was assessing the situation with caution.
“Mr. Coven,” our master called. I heard the crunch of brittle grass underfoot and crept farther into the shadow of the arbor. A sneeze perpetuated by a shiver across my shoulders, threatened to give away my hiding place. I pinched my nose at the bridge, hoping to dissuade the noise.
“Did you see Miss Cozette, down in the stables?” Master Archibald stood not more than a few feet from me, his back turned. All he needed do was turn and we would be face-to-face.
Mr. Coven glanced at me, over the master’s shoulder as if pondering both requests, his master’s and mine.
“No sir, I haven’t seen the little scamp since…yesterday, I believe it was. I had to shoo her out of the stables, she was annoying me at my work.”
Master Archibald let out an audible sigh. “She does have that ability. Well, I suppose there’s not much more that can be done. Are you accompanying Mr. Jensen this afternoon, Mr. Coven?”
“If you’d like, sir, I’d be happy to. However, I was just making my way to the house to visit with Miss Farrington. She mentioned something about needing a tree for the parlor.”
“Perhaps she will have better luck than I. Very well, please see to Miss Farrington’s request.”
Thankfully, he turned toward the house, but my heart nearly stopped when I saw the scowl on his profile. For a heartbeat, I thought he was about to turn on his heel and take the arbor path to the front of the house.
“Master Archibald, may I advise you get to your carriage by way of the front door. I saw a nasty mud hole on the arbor path earlier. I need to see to it that I place more stone there. I wouldn’t want to see you ruin the finish on your shoes. Besides, I wanted to tell you that I think we’ll have with any hope, at least three new foals by spring.”
Mr. Coven ushered Master Archibald through the back kitchen door.
At last, I chanced to breathe. Every part of me from the ends of my hair to the tips of my toes had little sensation due to the cold. Determined to make my way back through the house by way of the cellar door, I stepped along the path toward its safe haven, unaware until too late of the gaping mud hole in the path.
I heard Jensen call to the team as my ankle gave way and I landed with a thud on my backside with my foot at an odd angle beneath me. The pain too quickly evolved to the cold dampness soaking through my skirts.
The damn mud hole that Mr. Coven spoke of was indeed real.
I struggled to stand, gravel digging into my palms, but my ankle would not support me.
A few moments passed as I finally realized that either I would freeze to death or I would have to crawl back to the house. The sky, once a charcoal gray was now fully deep into nightfall and the temperature had dropped at a considerable rate.
“You’ll most likely catch your death of cold out here, Miss Cozette. Go inside and sit by the fire.”
Mr. Coven’s voice emitted through the inky darkness. My frozen gaze lifted to his glittering eye in the spackled shadows of the arbor. I tried to speak, through my chattering teeth. “I w-would l-like n-nothing more, M-Mr. C-Coven, but as you c-can p-p-plainly see, I am unable t-t-to st-stand.”
He made no sound as he slipped his arms beneath me and lifted me like a rag doll from the mud.
“Didn’t you hear me tell Master Archibald about the hole?”
I nodded, my thoughts not pushing past my frozen blue lips in wanting to say I thought it was a ruse to prevent his finding me.
; His arms were firm, and instinct pressed me close to the warmth of his coat, tucking my face beneath his chin to protect my face against the bitter cold. I sensed the rapid beat of his heart even through the many layers between us and I could not explain why I felt so safe in his arms.
He kicked open the back door and carried me into the servants’ hall at the back of the kitchen. Without a word, he placed me in a straight-back chair, facing a roaring fire in the open hearth.
In the intense heat of the blaze, my flesh began to thaw even as Mrs. Farrington came rushing in, grabbing a shawl from the back of the door and tossing it around my shoulders.
“Child, what on earth were you thinking?”
I glanced up at her, though I hoped I wouldn’t have to explain, especially in front of Mr. Coven. If my mistress had not made the rest of the staff privy to her request then she surely had her reasons, and I would not override them. “I was searching the g-gardens for my hair comb. I l-lost it earlier th-this afternoon.”
Mr. Coven, who knelt stoking the fire, glanced over his shoulder and said nothing, but went back to his work.
“You aren’t sensible at times, Cozette. You could have easily developed a chill or worse had Mr. Coven not found you. Look, your clothes are ruined, silly girl, what would possess you…”
She knelt at my feet and slipped off my shoes, wrapping her hands around them. “I’ll go get the kettle and we’ll soak your feet.”
Mrs. Farrington stood and tapped Mr. Coven on the shoulder.
“Here now, I need you to keep her feet warm in your hands while I fetch the hot water.”
He pivoted on his knees, none too happy I ventured by the look on his face to do as Mrs. Farrington bid. He wrapped his large, callused hands around my feet, capturing them securely between his palms. I drew the shawl closer around my shoulders, hugging it to me, keeping my eyes intent on the fire, even as I sensed him watching me. We did not share conversation. I was grateful that Mrs. Farrington was not slow in her task.
“There now, thank you Mr. Coven, for everything. I am sorry for your trouble.” She lugged a large shallow tin pan in and placed it at my feet.
I gasped as she lowered my chilled feet into the water’s warmth.
As I am grateful, Mr. Coven. Holding my tongue, for my teeth still chattered, I watched him open the back door without a response, slamming it shut. I drew the blanket around me tighter, my focus on the blazing fire in front of me. He was gone only a few moments before he returned with another armload of wood.
“This should do through the night, Mrs. Farrington. Please see to it that Mrs. Archibald’s fire is well prepared for the evening. There will be snow by morning. I’ll be sure that you have another load at the back of the house for tomorrow. She shouldn’t get chilled.”
“Th-that’s k-kind of you, Mr. C-Coven,” I replied through the chattering of my teeth.
“My concern is for the mistress.”
His gaze held mine and I swallowed back the mixture of hurt and humiliation causing my cheeks to warm.
“Thank you, Mr. Coven, I’m sure the mistress is grateful for the welcome warmth, even as is our thoughtless Cozette.”
I kept my eyes on the fire. His attitude toward me had been quite cold for some time, yet between his work and mine so focused on the mistress, we had not yet resolved the awkward air betwixt us.
“My pleasure,” he responded curtly. “Now if you’ll excuse me, with Jensen absent, I must see the horses are settled for the night.”
He got to the door before Mrs. Farrington slapped my knee, sending a rush of tingles cascading down my calf. I realized she wanted me to thank Mr. Coven for his noble behavior. Indeed, as if I hadn’t already been thinking of a way to do just that. He was now every bit a part of the ruse and I was most anxious to find out why he complied. Perhaps he knew more about Master Archibald that would be of value to helping my mistress. Just the same, I needed to appease Mrs. Farrington’s infernal rules on protocol, which I was finding, in particular with visits from her dear seafaring husband, at best selective.
“My gratitude, Mr. Coven, for your kindness,” I whispered, holding his stoic gaze.
Mrs. Farrington shook her head, disgusted at the weak enthusiasm embedded in my gratitude.
“I’ll fetch you a cup of tea, seems the cold has affected your speech as well. You stay right here and keep your feet in that pail.”
I nodded and she brushed past Mr. Coven offering him a smile and a pat on his arm as if to make up for what my thank-you lacked.
Once out of earshot, Mr. Coven stepped back into the room and whispered. “Do you plan to tell me why you were hiding, Miss Cozette? Is it Mr. Jensen, for if this is the case, you must tell me plainly and I will see that I speak to him at once upon his return.”
Surprised he would be so quick to accuse Jensen, I simply shook my head, but held my tongue. I would not chance Mrs. Farrington catching any part of this conversation.
“I see.”
There was a substantial pause, before he walked over, his startling hulk of a form towering over me a moment, before he knelt at my feet.
“Miss Cozette, I am obliged to ask you a question which I fear you may misinterpret.”
My eyes searched his singular gaze, the same I’d beheld on several occasions since my arrival. There were moments, like now, that I had to fight against brushing back the dark curl that slipped over his eye patch and more times than I could recall I yearned to understand the horrid accident that marred his otherwise handsome features. Despite his self-imposed solitude, his loyalty to Master Archibald was unwavering and I could not help admire such loyalty, however misguided.
“Forgive my boldness, Miss Cozette, for I have no other delicate means of presenting this, in fact I hesitate to speak my thoughts aloud, they seem so greatly absurd.”
My curiosity now was piqued. “Mr. Coven,” I whispered in a raspy voice, “you are welcome to ask me anything.” I had nothing to hide, truly of my own making and my loyalty was as strong to the trust of my mistress as was Mr. Coven with his master.
“Do you have any reason to fear Master Archibald?”
He lowered his voice, checking once over his shoulder for Mrs. Farrington’s return. It was clear to me now that he thought that the master was proposing an impropriety upon our relationship, even as he’d allowed Betsy at the picnic. As if Master Archibald, were he not married to my beautiful mistress, would appeal to me as a potential lover! What a preposterous, if not utterly dreadful, thought!
My voice was as cold as the skin of my bum, soaked now to the bone and I hoped there was enough water left to take a warm bath. “I assure you I have nothing to fear, and further I would like to say that Master Archibald, were he not married, would not appeal to me in the least.”
He blew out a cleansing breath and rocked back on his heels. My curiosity as to why he asked such a blatant question captured fully my attention. “And may I, sir, ask by what assumptions would you ask such a question of me?”
I would be describing a falsehood were I to state that I did not take a small measure of pride at the shock that registered on Mr. Coven’s face.
“I only meant, Miss Cozette, that if the master was taking inappropriate actions…well, you should have someone you can confide in.”
“And you feel that you should play this role as my confidant?”
He stood then looking down at me, clearly uncomfortable with the turn of the conversation. Which bothered me more, I could not say—what he thought of Master Archibald, or what he thought of me. Still, regardless of what unsaid rift still lies between us, or even what he may think of me, I wanted him to understand my position.
“Mr. Coven, let me be clear of one matter most explicitly. No man, master or not, except and only by my consent, does touch me.”
He closed his eye and I noted the tick of his muscle in his clenched jaw. His mouth, most appealing in my memory of our shared kiss, was stretched thin in his angst. He cleared his throat and gave a
short bow.
“My apologies Miss Cozette, I did not presume to pry into your private affairs.”
“Didn’t you? And pray, Mr. Coven, since we have never spoken since of the incident in your quarters, can you tell me honestly that you aren’t the least bit curious?”
His one-eyed dark green gaze swerved to mine. A moment clicked by and in that moment Ernest’s eyes glittering in the dusky shadow of the cellar sparked in my memory. I studied his face, but could not speak the thoughts lodged in my brain.
No doubt, I was saved from further embarrassment only by Mrs. Farrington’s return.
“Here now, Miss Cozette, I’ve got more water boiling for a shallow bath when you’re finished with that.” She slid past Mr. Coven and held out a tray holding two cups of steaming chamomile tea.
“Mr. Coven, please take this cup, it will take a moment to fetch another for myself.”
“No thank you, Miss Farrington. I’ve got to be on my way.”
He tore open the door and perhaps it was only me that noticed that he shut it with great vigor.
Mrs. Farrington set the tray on the servants’ dining table and poured the fragrant tea.
“Well now, something seems to be unsettling Mr. Coven this evening.” She sipped her tea, as did I, careful to avoid her gaze. “Have you any idea what it might be?”
I shook my head. The further from my mind that I could distance the memory of Mr. Coven’s kiss the better.
“Fine then, do you intend to tell me then why you scurried off as you did, and please don’t for my benefit concoct some story about hair combs, you rarely wear them. You forget how long you have been here, Cozette, I know nearly everything there is to know about you.”
She settled back in her chair, her scrutinizing gaze resting on me.
“I explained—”
“The truth now, Miss Cozette. Do you think me daft? Has the master given you reason to fear him?”
I placed my cup on the table and looked at her directly, dismissing her previous comment and wondering just how much she really knew about me. “Why does everyone seem to think that Master Archibald is soliciting me for inappropriate behavior? Me, of all people?”
The Diary of Cozette Page 27
