“That’s better,” he said, “although I am feeling particularly sleepy. If I could just lie down on the grass and close my eyes for a few minutes, I’m sure that I would feel better straight away.” He tried to stumble to his feet, but Harriet placed a restraining hand on his shoulder.
“No, why not lie down on the bench instead? You don’t want grass stains on your clothes.”
“What a good idea, Miss Walters,” he said, sinking back down and laying his head in Harriet’s lap before she had a chance to move away. With eyes closed, Ash murmured, “You’re a very amiable young lady.”
Harriet was horrified to have the schoolmaster's head on her lap. She glanced around to see if anyone was a witness to her predicament, but they were perfectly alone. She looked down again. Ash’s eyes remained closed, and he began to snore.
“Drat,” Harriet whispered, feeling terribly exposed. If anyone came out the back door now, she and Mr. Ash would be spotted right away. After a few anxious moments, however, Harriet resolved to be calm; the ladies were likely to be eating and gossiping for a little while longer, and Mrs. Evans would be back with the carriage any minute. She even began to feel hungry, as it had been hours since she had eaten her breakfast, too. Harriet surveyed the plate of food sitting on the bench beside her and selected an apple tart. She had just finishing eating it when Mrs. Evans rounded the side of the church. Her friend took one look at them and burst out laughing, swiftly covering her mouth with her fingers lest she disturb the slumbering schoolmaster.
“I’m sorry for laughing, dear Miss Walters, but the two of you look so perfectly ridiculous.” Mrs. Evans smiled down at Ash. “He looks so peaceful lying there. It will be a shame to disturb him.”
“Yes, but we had better get him into the carriage and away from here before the ladies begin to leave the church.”
“Yes, you are right.” Mrs. Evans bent over Ash and prodded his shoulder with one hand. “Mr. Ash, Mr. Ash, it’s time to wake up.” When there was no reaction, the lady gave him a small shake. “Wake up, please.” The young man snorted and continued snoring.
Harriet gently patted his cheek. “Mr. Ash, you must wake up. It’s time to go home, now. Please wake up, sir.” His eyes opened and fixed upon her face. Ash grinned.
“Hello, Miss Walters, how are you today?” he asked.
“I’m very well, and glad to see you looking better. Now, Mrs. Evans and I are going to help to you stand, and then we’ll walk to her carriage. I’ll going to take you home.”
“Why, aren’t you sweet,” he said, smiling at the ladies.
They pulled him to his feet and dragged him to the carriage, stumbling a little on the way. When they arrived at the vehicle, Mrs. Evan’s coachman hauled the history master up onto the seat. Harriet sat down beside him, slipping a hand under his arm to steady him. As the carriage started down the street, Ash’s chin dropped to his chest, and he promptly fell asleep again.
The coachman chose his route carefully, driving through the back streets which, thankfully, were deserted. When the carriage arrived at the school entrance, the gatekeeper, an elderly man in vest and slippers, hurried out to meet them. He made a half-bow to Harriet and removed his cap.
“Good afternoon, sir,” she said. “I’ve brought Mr. Ash home. He became ill after the lecture and will need some assistance in getting to his room. Can you help him, sir?”
The gatekeeper stared at the snoring schoolmaster and smiled. “Aye, Miss, I can help the young gentleman to his room and see that he gets to bed.” He winked, and Harriet stiffened in embarrassment.
“Thank you, you are most kind. The coachman will help you to get him down.”
The coachman shook Ash awake, and the two men lifted him onto the drive. Ash grinned at Harriet and waved before stumbling away with the gatekeeper.
“Back to St. Michael’s now, Miss?” inquired the coachman, his face a perfect blank.
“Yes, please,” Harriet said, shaking her head over the afternoon’s shenanigans.
Chapter Nine
Harriet had mixed feelings when she heard nothing from Ash in the ensuing week. Actually, she was afraid that their next meeting would be very awkward, and intended to treat his drunkenness as if it had never happened.
“If Mr. Ash does not mention it, then neither shall I,” she decided. “Perhaps he will not even remember anything untoward in his behaviour, given his condition.”
After service the following Sunday, the schoolmaster was surrounded by a crowd of admiring women who wished to compliment him again on his lecture. He happened to look up just as Harriet and Aunt Edna descended the church stairs. Harriet raised her hand in a small wave, and the young man flushed scarlet.
“Oh dear, he does remember,” she thought, hiding behind her aunt. The headmaster chose that unfortunate moment to approach the two ladies.
“It would appear that Mr. Ash’s lecture was very well received, judging by his fair crowd of admirers,” Mr. Harris said with a bow.
“Yes, he did not do too badly,” Aunt Edna said. “Perhaps more of your masters will give lectures now.”
Mr. Harris continued, “It was a shame, however, that Ash took ill directly afterward and had to come straight home. He stayed in bed for the remainder of the afternoon and evening, and still felt peaked the following day. But it was very kind of you, Miss Walters, to ensure his safe return.” He smiled at her.
“It was no trouble at all, Mr. Harris,” Harriet said, blushing. “I’m sorry to hear that Mr. Ash was indisposed for so long.”
“Perhaps it was brought on by nerves. However, I feel certain that he will not suffer a relapse should his services ever be required again. Ladies,” he said, nodding and taking their leave with a twinkle in his eyes.
Mrs. Evans joined Harriet and her aunt after the headmaster's departure. “It’s good to see such well-deserved appreciation of Mr. Ash. He’s a very fine young man, Edna. Not only was he generous in helping with your harvest, but he’s an intellectual, and a fine speaker, too.”
Aunt Edna looked at him appraisingly. “I suppose he is a useful sort.”
Mrs. Evans winked at Harriet. “Harriet, will you add your compliments to those of his devotées?”
“I really do not think it necessary, ma'am. We already expressed our appreciation last Sunday.”
“Come now, you don’t want Mr. Ash to think that you’re snubbing him, do you? And Edna, you really must pay him your compliments. After all, you want to stay in his good graces should you ever be short-staffed at harvest time again.”
“You have a point, Mabel,” Aunt Edna said. “The crowd is dispersing. Let us go greet him.” Aunt Edna strode directly up to the schoolmaster with Mrs. Evans right beside her and Harriet trailing behind them.
“Mr. Ash, I did not have the opportunity to compliment you on your talk last Sunday, you left so abruptly. You did well, young man,” Aunt Edna said, peering up into his face.
“Thank you, ma’am.”
“You should be flattered, sir. That is high praise indeed coming from Mrs. Slater. How are you feeling today?” Mrs. Evans said.
“Very well, thank you.” Ash turned to include Harriet in the conversation. “I trust that you are well, Miss Walters?”
She met his eyes and quickly glanced away again. “I’m very well, sir. You are certainly looking better today.” Harriet’s voice trailed away as she realized how Mr. Ash would interpret that remark.
With a blank face, the gentleman replied, “Miss Walters, I have an invitation to pass along to you from your friend, Mrs. Higgins. She would like to ask you to a small gathering this afternoon that will include her nephew. I am invited, too, since I will be bringing the boy. Knowing that we both attend Sunday service, she thought that I might deliver the message to you. Will you come, Miss Walters?”
Before Harriet could respond, Aunt Edna said, “Seeing that Mrs. Higgins is part of your parish work, Harriet, you have my permission to go. I have no need of you this afternoon.”
“Thank you, Mabel. Tell your cook that I’d be happy to try her cake. I’ll drop Harriet at Mrs. Higgins’ cottage along the way.” She turned to the schoolmaster. “Perhaps you would be good enough to see my niece safely home afterward, sir? It will be dark by then.”
“Of course. I would be happy to escort Miss Walters home.” Smiling at Harriet, Ash repeated his question. “Will you come, Miss Walters?”
“Thank you, Mr. Ash, I would be delighted to,” she replied. Mrs. Evans beamed as the gentleman nodded.
Chapter Ten
“Harriet, did you hear what I just said to you? Honestly, I don’t know what’s wrong with you this afternoon – you’re so distracted,” her aunt complained as they rode to Mrs. Higgins’ cottage. Harriet carried a present for her hostess: a ripe, round cheese wrapped in a clean cloth.
“I’m sorry, Aunt,” she replied automatically.
Aunt Edna studied her. “You have feelings for the schoolmaster, don’t you, girl?” Harriet looked up, surprised, but did not answer. “I’m not blind, Miss. I was married for twenty-seven years and I’ve raised two daughters. I recognize the signs.”
“To be truthful, I’m not sure. I like Mr. Ash, but. . . .”
“You must think this through carefully, Harriet. Mr. Ash is your inferior socially. Besides, what would you have to live on? Your mother doesn’t have enough to keep herself, let alone you, and you cannot expect anything from me. You know that, don’t you, Harriet? I’m not a wealthy woman, and my son will get everything when I’m gone.”
“Yes, I know.”
“Very well, then, consider this a warning. Love is fine when the couple are suitably matched, but you cannot eat it.” Harriet was silent, focusing on the view outside the carriage. Aunt Edna frowned and did not speak again until they reached Mrs. Higgins’ house.
“Looks pretty tumble-down. You wouldn’t catch me living there. The old woman should sell up and go live with her people before the property becomes worthless.”
Harriet paused before opening the carriage door. “Mrs. Higgins came here as a young bride fifty years ago. She has many happy memories of this house and would not willingly part with it.”
“Happy memories will not do her any good if she falls and breaks a leg.” Harriet shook her head and descended from the carriage. “Now, be sure to come home in good time tonight,” Aunt Edna called after her.
Harriet followed the path to the front door and rapped smartly upon it, irritated by her aunt’s comments. “Mrs. Higgins, it’s Miss Walters!” she shouted. Moments later, the door swung open and Harriet stumbled inside. Catching herself, she turned and saw Oliver holding the door and staring at her. “Excuse me,” she said. “I didn’t expect the door to open so rapidly. Your great-aunt usually takes a few minutes to reach the front of the house.”
Oliver smiled. “Auntie told me that you were coming today. Auntie and Mr. Ash are both in the parlour.”
“Is that Miss Walters, Oliver? Bring her in here, my love,” Mrs. Higgins called. Harriet followed him into the parlour, where Mrs. Higgins sat on the sofa beside Mr. Ash. The schoolmaster stood as she entered the room.
“How are you, Mrs. Higgins?” Harriet asked, kissing her cheek. “This is for you,” she added, handing her hostess the package.
“Oh, I know what that is. That’s one of those cheddars your aunt’s daughter sends to her, I’m sure. How generous of Mrs. Slater,” she said, beaming with pleasure.
“You’re right. My aunt heard how fond you are of cheese and insisted that I bring it today. And thank you for inviting me. What an unexpected treat.”
Mrs. Higgins struggled to rise from the couch, and Ash hurried to help her. “You’re very welcome, my pet. Thank you, Mr. Ash. These old knees don’t get up so quickly anymore.”
“It’s good to see you again, sir,” Harriet said with a curtsy.
“Yes, twice in one day. I am unusually privileged,” he replied. The compliment brought a warm glow to Harriet’s face.
Mrs. Higgins brought one hand to her ear. “I’m sorry to hear that you’re ill, sir. My, you seemed well enough just a moment ago. Let me get you some of my tonic ‒ it’s a powerful restorative.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Higgins, but I’m quite well,” the young man replied, looking perplexed.
Mrs. Higgins shrugged and turned to Harriet. “Miss Walters, before you sit down, would you lend me a hand in the kitchen? I have the kettle simmering on the stove and the teapot warming. Mr. Ash, you and Oliver look after yourselves for a moment while Miss Walters and I fetch the food.”
Harriet smiled at the schoolmaster and followed Mrs. Higgins to the kitchen. She paused on the threshold, sniffing the warm, fragrant air appreciatively while the widow busied herself with steeping the tea. A large layer cake with a heavy fondant icing sat on a pedestal plate, a tray of jam tarts beside it. Another dish was wrapped in a white towel. Mrs. Higgins uncovered it, revealing a plate of scones studded with fat currants. Then the elderly woman reached into the oven and removed a rosy sliced ham, the scent of the meat making Harriet’s mouth water.
“Now, Miss Walters, if you would take the tray with the plates and cutlery, I will carry out the tea pot. We’ll come back for the food.” Harriet insisted, however, that Mrs. Higgins let her fetch the food while their hostess arranged the feast on a low table before the sofa. Oliver’s eyes bulged as Harriet carried in the rich food. When all was ready, the elderly widow settled back upon the couch with a sigh of satisfaction.
“It all looks wonderful, Mrs. Higgins,” Ash said, enunciating clearly and carefully. Oliver winked at Harriet from the other side of his aunt.
Mrs. Higgins nodded and smiled. “I’ll serve up the cake if Miss Walters will pour out the tea. Oliver, why not tell us what you’re reading in school this term while we pass around the plates?”
The young boy launched into a description of his school subjects and masters, but was more interested in describing an upcoming sporting event. “We’re going to have ‘Race Day’ next week. I’ll be running in the sprinters, of course. I’m very fast for my size ‒ even the bigger boys in my year can’t catch me. I hope to win a blue ribbon, unless Johnny Randolph beats me. He’s the only one anywhere near as fast as me, isn’t he, Mr. Ash?”
“You outran him last week during practice, Oliver. I wager that you’ll beat him again.”
“I hope so, sir,” the boy said with his mouth full of tart. “And when we’re done the regular races, Mr. Harris is going to borrow two piglets from the farm next door so we can have pig races. You should come, Miss. It will be great fun.”
“It sounds like it will be, Oliver, but I doubt that I would be very good at catching a pig.”
Oliver studied her for a moment, his head to one side. “You’re probably right. It’s best to be small and quick like me for catching pigs, but you’re ever so tall. You would probably be better at the long-distance races. I bet your legs are really long, but I can’t tell with your skirts. I’m glad I’m not a girl and have to wear dresses.”
The adults laughed, and Mrs. Higgins said, “You’re growing so fast, Oliver, it’s that hard to keep you in trousers. You can come and catch my hens if they ever get out again. My legs don’t go very fast anymore.”
“That’s all right, Auntie, you’re a wonderful cook,” Oliver said. “May I have a slice of cake now, please?”
“Of course you can, my love.” Mrs. Higgins patted him on the shoulder and gave him a generous slice. “Now, Mr. Ash, can I give you a piece of cake? I don’t think the folks at the school are feeding you enough. You’re too thin, sir.”
“Yes, please, Mrs. Higgins,” he said, extending his plate. “Actually, the staff looks after us very well. Much better than if we were bacheloring it in private rooms.” He took the cake and forked a piece into his mouth, his eyes c
losing in pleasure. “This is wonderful. Our cook has a sure hand with roasts and vegetables, but she can’t touch you for the lightness of your pastry and cakes.”
“Thank you, young man. I’ve been making that recipe for the past thirty years, so I ought to have it right by now. You come by any time you like with our Oliver, and I’d be happy to make you a cake or anything else you’d like.”
“We have an agreement, Mrs. Higgins.”
The little group chatted and stuffed themselves with good things while the sun sank lower through the parlour windows. Noticing that it was growing late, Harriet jumped up to carry the dirty dishes and leftover food into the kitchen, where Mrs. Higgins refused any further assistance.
“You just leave everything lying where it is, Miss Walters,” she said, tying two tarts and a slice of cake into a clean cloth for Oliver. “I have all evening to take care of the dishes. You three should be going now before it’s too dark to see the road.”
Back in the parlour, Oliver and Ash were donning their outer things. Ash helped Harriet into her coat while Oliver tied a scarf around his throat.
“Thank you for coming, my dears, and I hope that you can come again soon,” Mrs. Higgins said, kissing her nephew and walking her guests to the front door. “Good night, and be careful not to catch a chill.”
“Good night and thank you,” her guests responded as they paused to shake hands or embrace her before venturing into the evening air. Harriet wrapped a shawl around her shoulders and followed the schoolmaster and his charge down the walk.
Ash waited for her and said, “If you don’t mind, there’s a short-cut through the woods that will take us directly back to the school. We’ll leave Oliver with the gatekeeper, and then I’ll escort you to your aunt’s home.” Running on up ahead, Oliver jumped into a pile of leaves before kneeling to pick up a pale stone that caught his eye.
“That would be fine, Mr. Ash,” Harriet said, watching the boy dart toward a scolding squirrel that brandished its tail at him from the safety of its branch. Ash and Harriet laughed, and strolled after Oliver down a well-worn path that crossed through the woods and emerged next to a farmer’s field. A cow had just pushed its neck through the fence to reach a mouthful of grass, but paused to shake her head at them as they passed by. The group came to a stile. Ash mounted it first and bent to give Oliver his hand, but the boy jumped up beside him and clambered down the other side.
The Affairs of Harriet Walters, Spinster Page 6
