by Cheryl Bolen
"How delighted I am to be here, my dear," Mrs. Taylor purred. "I have always wanted to have a girl of my own to mentor, so to speak. Of course, you are much older than one I would have borne," she amended.
Freddie met her guardian's gaze and understood the devilish flare in his dark eyes.
Mrs. Taylor strolled to the pianoforte and examined the sheet of music Freddie had been playing. Freddie had the feeling the woman knew she was being watched and held her breath so as to subtract girth from her midsection.
"This song will never do!" Mrs. Taylor said authoritatively.
Lord Stacks' voice was unfamiliarly commanding when he said, "I selected it myself."
Mrs. Taylor stood frozen for a moment, then turned to Stacks, a wide smile on her face. "Of course, it would be excellent for a beginner. So short and all."
"You need not bother with teaching Miss Lambeth to play," Stacks said. "I plan to do that myself."
"An ambitious undertaking, I am sure," Freddie said with a laugh. Her voice was less hoarse now, and her coughing spells reduced to an occasional covered sputter.
"I will leave you two," he said. "I am not such an ogre that I expect Mrs. Taylor to begin her tasks today after her tedious journey. I suggest you set aside afternoons for your sessions together."
Freddie was thankful he had said sessions. She disliked excessively to think that she were being tutored at her age.
Mrs. Taylor threw an admiring glance at Stacks. "You go on now. I will take a moment to get acquainted with dear Fredericka."
***
Roberts gave his master's cravat a final twist before standing back to admire his creation.
"Edgekirth comes to dinner tonight," Stacks said flatly.
Roberts' eyes rounded. "But the man is despicable! He maligns you greatly."
"My dear Roberts, Edgekirth is too much the gentleman to sully me in public. He has the courage to tell me to my face what he thinks."
"How you can have him under your roof is beyond me," Roberts murmured.
"He has made Miss Lambeth well."
"With your diligent care, I daresay the young lady would have mended without the arrogant doctor's help. And you certainly don't have to have him at your table."
"But I long for a good game of whist, and with the addition of Mrs. Taylor, Edgekirth will make a fourth."
Roberts nodded grimly. "It's been many a year since you've had four to dinner. I daresay that at least is a good thing for you, milord."
"A good valet, I have been told, never expresses his opinion," Stacks said. "You, my dear Roberts, must be a most inferior servant." The mirth in Stacks' voice belied his words.
***
Despite that Edgekirth would generally be considered a far better looking man than Stacks, Julia Taylor ignored him and directed her full attention to the head of the table throughout the long dinner. "My dear Papa--he was Sir Manley Morehead, you will remember--always said a good host was one who provided a different wine for each course," she said, complimenting Stacks on the quality of his wine.
"You found the Sauternes adequate, ma'am?" he asked, knowing full well Sauternes had not been served but wickedly unable to resist trapping the matron in her own net of superiority.
"Oh, quite exceptional, I should say," she said, shooting a self-satisfied smile at her host.
Why was it he had never before noticed how hard the woman tried to fit into the ton? He supposed he had been much too besotted over Elizabeth then.
While she praised Stacks on everything from the comfort of her chambers to the tie of his cravat, Edgekirth and Freddie discussed the influence of the stars on herbs as well as man's body.
"I cannot tell you how delighted I am, Miss Lambeth," Edgekirth said, "to find someone with your understanding of astronomy."
"But I am sure my guardian is far more knowledgeable than I. My father said Lord Stacks was the most brilliant man he had ever known, and my father was rather well read himself."
Edgekirth stiffened, taking in a mouthful of the plum cake being served for dessert. "Though I am delighted with your return to good health, I shall miss our daily visits, Miss Lambeth."
"They need not end," she said. "We have become friends, have we not?"
"Yes, but--" he glanced at Stacks.
"But you will come visit me," she said firmly. "I told you I would like to assist with your potions."
"I should like that exceedingly, Miss Lambeth." Dimples creased his cheeks when he smiled.
After dinner, Stacks declined to share port with Edgekirth while the women retired to the great hall. Instead, he suggested the four of them immediately try their hands at a game of whist.
The gaming table was no longer by the fire, Freddie noticed. It was back on a Persian carpet near the outer wall where it had been the first time Freddie had walked into the great hall.
Stacks offered to take Mrs. Taylor as his partner. Freddie, knowing her guardian's hunger for good game of whist, silently commended him for his supreme sacrifice to good manners. For she did not believe Mrs. Taylor could possibly have any great skill at cards.
"Oh, dear me!" Mrs. Taylor exclaimed, smoothing her white silk skirts beneath her as she sat opposite Stacks. "My dear Mr. Taylor used to admonish me over my lack of skill. I am forever forgetting about those trump things!"
Freddie shot a devilish smile at her guardian, who met her gaze, raising a single eyebrow.
Stacks' skill could not compensate against the adeptness of his opponents.
"It seems you do everything well, Miss Lambeth," Edgekirth said, admiration in his voice, a wistful appreciation in his clear green eyes.
"Were that true, I would not need Mrs. Taylor as desperately as I do," Freddie said, glancing at the rounded matron whose dress was outmoded and much too small on her. Freddie guessed the woman had worn it when she was much younger.
Mrs. Taylor favored Freddie with a smile, then settled her gloved hand across the table on Stacks' arm. "Trust me, my lord, to make poor Fredericka into a lady."
Freddie bristled and tossed out a card.
An awkward silence followed, which Edgekirth broke by saying, "May I say you look extremely lovely tonight, Miss Lambeth?"
Freddie thanked him meekly, feeling Mrs. Taylor's scrutiny.
The woman ran her eyes over the cream crepe gown Freddie wore. "Oh, yes. Quite a lovely dress!" Mrs. Taylor said, casting her glance to Stacks. "You must have helped to pick it out, my lord."
"My ward has excellent taste," Stacks stated.
Mrs. Taylor turned her attention back to Freddie. "Yes, you look quite lovely though it is a pity you've been so ill." She sighed. "You're quite too thin!"
At that point Mrs. Taylor dropped a card from her hand. "Dear me," she said as she bent to pick it up. Freddie was certain she positioned herself to give Stacks an advantageous view of her cleavage. Freddie's glance darted to her guardian.
He did indeed note the woman's ample bosom, one corner of his lips turned up in a wicked smile.
After Freddie and Edgekirth soundly beat Stacks and Mrs. Taylor, Freddie suggested they switch partners.
"No," Stacks said, rising. "I feel like some music." Directing his glance to his rotund partner, he said, "Will you favor us with a tune, Mrs. Taylor?"
She fluttered her rather long eyelashes at him and nodded flirtatiously before she swept up and waddled across the stone floors to settle herself at the pianoforte. From memory she played a love song that had been popular during Freddie's parents' youth.
"You play well," Stacks said when she finished. He turned to Freddie. "I said last night that you would know your tune by week's end, but I suspect you mastered it today."
"I hardly think I could master anything, my lord," Freddie replied. "However, I think I have learned it as well today as I would given an entire month."
"Please," her guardian said gently, "won't you show our visitors how far you have come in just one day?"
Freddie smiled, hoping they would not notic
e her trembling. She rose from her chair and slowly crossed the room, pulling the Kashmir shawl about her bare shoulders, and sat down in front of the pianoforte. It seemed a dragon that would rear its ugly head and devour her.
She no longer needed the yellowed sheets of paper to read the music. She had committed the silly notes to memory. She drew a deep breath and placed her shaking fingers on the keys. She tried to blot everything from her mind, save the cheerful little song she had played throughout the day. Her fingers began to play, and it was if they took over her whole being. They fluttered across the newly discovered keys as if they were old friends.
When she finished, she turned to her guardian and nearly erupted with joy.
He stood up applauding her, true appreciation in his dancing black eyes.
Chapter 8
Since Mrs. Taylor had made it perfectly clear that she was a lady, and ladies were never seen in the mornings, Freddie determined to rise early in order to enjoy her guardian's society while her companion was certain to be sleeping.
"I had not expected to see you here this morning," Lord Stacks greeted from the head of the table, laying down his newspaper and favoring her with a mischievous smile.
Freddie grabbed a warm scone and plopped down beside her guardian. "I have decided to only be a lady in the afternoons. In the mornings I should like to join you in the quadrangle."
His lordship's brows drew together. "Dr. Edgekirth allows you out of doors?"
"I hardly call the quadrangle out of doors. It is, after all, rather shielded from the coastal winds, and I promise to dress warmly."
"What is it you desire to do in the quadrangle?"
"I had hoped you would allow me the use of your herbs. I should wish to make medicinals for Dr. Edgekirth."
"I daresay you did so back in Chelseymeade," he said with resignation.
She nodded. The man knew her far better than anyone ever had.
"Very well--if you promise to dress warmly."
She sipped tea, a warm glow seeming to reach her very soul. It mattered to him that she dress warmly. No one had ever cared about her, and she basked gloriously in her guardian's protective cocoon. She craved being with him as flowers craved sunshine. "When will we resume my instruction on the pianoforte, my lord?"
"If it would not be too trying on you, I thought perhaps we could meet each afternoon when Mrs. Taylor finishes with you."
She threw him a grateful smile. "I would never be too tired to play, for it brings me great satisfaction."
"Today I shall introduce you to chords."
"You say that as if they are something to be feared."
"I do not wish to frighten you, Miss Lambeth. We shall take them slowly, and I have every confidence you will have no difficulty."
"I look forward to it--as I also look forward to being able to ride with you again, my lord," Freddie said, embarrassed over her own boldness. "Despite the storm and my illness, I look back on our day of riding with great fondness. I enjoyed it very much." She couldn't tell him how special she had felt when he had covered her drenched body with his own coat, how a satisfying glow had filled her body and her senses, how the touch of his hand on her shoulder nearly caused her to rupture with delight.
There was a grim set to his mouth before he said, "No riding until Dr. Edgekirth gives his approval."
"But summer is almost here. It grows warmer each day."
"We will see what Edgekirth says," he said firmly.
Her eyes softened as she watched her guardian peruse his newspaper. It was hard to believe he was her father's age. She supposed he did not look young, but he seemed utterly handsome to her with his sturdy face and piercing black eyes, his head of thick dark hair, his long sinewy body. She had grown to appreciate his commanding voice and his protectiveness toward her. "My lord---"
His gaze lifted to her, a black eyebrow raised.
"I have never told you how much being here at Marshbanks Abbey has meant to me. I have enjoyed it excessively. I've been a burden, and I don't know how I can ever repay your kindness."
"It pleases me that Frederick entrusted his only child to my care, for I shall never have children of my own. I treat you as I would my own daughter." He had not met her gaze and quickly picked up his newspaper and began to read.
She knew she should be happy over his words. After all, no one ever before had been pleased to be burdened with her. So why did she resent him thinking of her as a daughter?
***
After breakfast, Lord Stacks led Freddie along the gravel paths of his garden. On each side of the dozen paths, flowers and shrubs grew in raised beds of rich, dark soil. Flowers from bulbs which could thrive in shade had been planted in the first rows, then buttercups and cowslips and other colorful blooms grew further away from the cloisters. Green herbs of every shape and size sprouted close to the ground in the middle of the quadrangle, which was less shaded from the abbey's tall stone walls. Beyond the herbs a variety of shrubs grew strong and sturdy.
Offering his arm to her, he strolled the paths, telling her about the plants. Where he got them. Their peculiar soil and watering needs. Warmed by the sun, which was almost overhead now, and listening to the chorus of spring birds, Freddie felt an intoxication that sprang from her senses, from her singing soul.
Lord Stacks stopped at a smallish tree like nothing Freddie had ever seen before, picked a fragrant yellowish bloom and presented it to Freddie. "This, to my knowledge, is the only plumera in England. It grows in tropical regions. I am rather proud that, with the help of my conservatory, it has been able to thrive in the gloomy North Country."
She held the flower to her nose and sniffed its heavy fragrance. "I don't for a moment believe you think it gloomy here, my lord," Freddie challenged. "I daresay you could live anywhere, but you choose to live here because this country has claimed your heart."
He looked down at her, his face pensive, and continued on. "It is lovely here today, is it not?"
"There is nowhere I would prefer to be."
He patted her hand which curled around his arm. His touch caused her nearly to lose her breath.
"Of course," he said, "many of the plants I obtained from the Orient do not do well in our English climate. I had no luck with banyon trees or orchids. The only reason the plumera has continued to thrive is that I protect it from frosts."
When they reached the north end of the quadrangle, Freddie said, "It is an impressive body of work, my lord. Do you write books?"
"I have written some articles on hybridization, but no books."
"Why have you not put your knowledge into a book?"
He shook his head. "I fear no one would be able to read my notes. Penmanship was always difficult for me."
She smiled. "I am glad to know you are not perfect. I thought there was nothing you could not master."
He gave her a queer look and strolled on. "It has always been my greatest regret that I cannot draw for I should have liked to do a botanical book."
She squeezed his arm and whispered. "It would have been a wonderful book, too." Now, she felt saddened for him. She knew his weaknesses--as he knew hers only too well.
From the day she had met him, she had opened her soul to him. She had always been totally honest with him. He knew her inadequacies and insecurities. And he did not hate her. Now that he had shared with her the place dearest to his heart, she felt even closer to him.
"Pray, do not let me keep you from your work, my lord. I will snip some white mullein while you return to your plantings. A distillation of its flowers makes an excellent remedy for gout--a complaint Dr. Edgekirth is called on to treat all too regularly."
Lord Stacks came to a stop and beamed down at her. "I have enjoyed showing you my garden. No one else has ever seen it."
Then he must have begun it after he lost his wife, Freddie thought. Had the garden been his way to purge the lovely Elizabeth from his heart? "But you have gardeners," she said.
"For the park beyond the abbey's wa
lls. The quadrangle is my domain. I do allow the gardeners to work in my orchard and occasionally in the conservatory."
She remembered seeing the orchard and conservatory west of the abbey. "I thought this must be the work of half a dozen gardeners. I haven't seen a single weed nor a wilted vine."
An earnest smile crossed his angular face.
She was truly impressed. Her guardian did nothing by halves.
***
The afternoon sessions between Freddie and Mrs. Taylor were to take place in the small drawing room accessible from a staircase in the corner of the great room.
Freddie mounted the stairs, one hand on the thickly carved wooden banister, the other holding a contented Marmalade to her breast.
A fire was just being laid in the grate when Freddie entered the drawing room. Mrs. Greenwood, who stood on the room's Oriental carpet directing three maids, smiled at Freddie when she entered. It was the first time Mrs. Greenwood had favored Freddie with a smile.
"His lordship should be most pleased, indeed, with the room. He was particularly anxious there should be no dust--because of your recent lung complaints." The middle-aged housekeeper stood back and beamed. "You could run a white glove across anything in the room and nary a spot would appear on it, I daresay."
Freddie's gaze swept across the room that held a table with four chairs and a damask sofa flanked by two French chairs and a tea table. She felt as if Mrs. Greenwood awaited her approval, but Freddie felt utterly unable to wear a mantle of authority. "His lordship should be much pleased," Freddie echoed. "The room is lovely."
"You should have seen it two days ago, miss," Mrs. Greenwood said. "The dust you wouldn't believe! Not a soul here for these ten years past. It's good to see life returning to Marshbanks Abbey. And all thanks to you."
It was the most words Freddie had ever heard the housekeeper utter. She not only no longer objected to Freddie's presence at the abbey, but she seemed now to welcome it.
Because Freddie cared so deeply for her guardian, she was happy life had been restored to his home after a decade of unutterable loneliness. But, oh, how she lamented that she would now have to share him with countless others. "It's not for me so much as that his mourning has at long last been cast aside," Freddie told the housekeeper.
