The door opened, and Harry Devon strode inside, a good cheer evident in the wide smile upon his face. “Ellsworth, I am glad I caught you. I was not sure, given the lateness of the hour.”
“Lateness—?” Robert pulled his timepiece from his pocket. After five o’clock. “I am afraid I did not notice. It has been so dark outside all day, it is difficult to keep track of the passing hours.”
Devon came forward and leaned against the window, looking out into the darkness while the rain pattered against the glass. “Indeed. But this is perfect. Would you be willing to eat your evening meal here, with us? My wife has invited a visitor to stay to dinner, given the weather. We did not think it fair to send Miss Clark home. Given your prior history, I think it would make the evening more enjoyable.”
Robert stood still as a marble statue, staring at his employer as though Devon had lost his mind. He had no intention of seeing Penny again so soon. The day before, stumbling over his words and their meanings in the church, he had been grateful for a reprieve. Surely, a few days apart from her would give him time to reorder his thoughts, collect himself, root himself firmly in friendship and nothing more.
A dinner party consisting of him, Penny, and the Devons could not come at a worse moment.
Yet he swallowed away all his protests and forced a genial smile. “I would be delighted. Thank you for the invitation.”
“If the rain does not cease,” Mr. Devon put in, tapping the glass with a finger, “I will need to escort Miss Clark and her maid home.”
“No,” Robert said firmly. “That will not do, sir.”
Devon shifted, then tilted his head forward. “I am listening, Ellsworth. Why will it not do?”
Though Devon treated him as an equal, Robert never forgot he was on the man’s payroll. They might be of an age, been raised with similar standards and financial backing, but circumstances changed. Devon could now buy up the services of a dozen men like Robert. They both knew it, even if Mr. Devon wanted to ignore it. Robert rarely found reason to correct or redirect his employer, but in this instance, he had to speak up.
“Miss Clark’s parents died on a night like this, in a carriage accident. While I cannot speak with certainty upon the state of her mind regarding that night, I cannot imagine riding out in similar circumstances would be an easy thing for her. Perhaps I overstep myself, but as it is for the sake of a lady’s comfort, I hope you will forgive me when I suggest Mrs. Devon ought to invite her to stay the night instead.”
“Of course, Ellsworth.” Devon reached out and put a hand on Robert’s shoulder. “I appreciate your insight in this matter. Indeed, in all matters. You have not yet given advice I found lacking.” He stepped back, removing his hand, and tilted his head toward the door. “Shall we go to the ladies? Dinner tonight will be intimate. Daisy has decided we will not dress, as neither of our guests have the opportunity to do so.”
“Your wife has ever been a sensible woman,” Robert said, the tension in his shoulders easing somewhat. He put out the candles on his desk, then followed his employer out of the room. Mr. and Mrs. Devon fit together like a pair of gloves. Complimentary, a matched set, despite being near opposites at times in their ideas.
Robert walked through the long halls of the house, passing servants along the way as they lit sconces in the walls. Devon had mentioned the idea of having the house fitted for gas lights, but the undertaking would be expensive unless he could convince the entire community to switch to that form of lighting. It would be some time before Annesbury caught up with London and the larger cities of Britain.
They came to the doors of the parlor, where the Devons sat together until dinner was served, and Mr. Devon walked inside without so much as knocking. Robert followed, hands tucked behind him. He bowed before he looked up, immediately catching Penny’s eye. She watched him, a blush in her cheeks. She lowered her eyes to her lap where she fussed with the gloves she wore.
“I have prevailed upon Mr. Ellsworth, and he has graciously agreed to take his dinner with us.” Devon grinned at Robert, then reached for his wife’s hands. “Might you join me for a moment in the hall, love? I have a matter over which I would like your counsel. If you will excuse us, Miss Clark? Mr. Ellsworth?”
“Of course,” Penny said easily, her light voice setting Robert’s heart to beat a faster tempo than before.
“I will do my best to keep your guest company, Mrs. Devon,” Robert promised, bowing again.
“I know you will.” Mrs. Devon drifted through the room with her usual grace, her chin held up and a smile for her husband that felt almost too intimate for Robert to look upon. He averted his eyes to the floor, pressing his lips together to hide his own smirk. The Devons had started their courtship somewhat strangely, but he could not think of many couples he had seen who were happier in their choice of a spouse. They obviously loved each other.
He stepped closer to Penny and gestured to the seat beside her on the couch. “May I?”
“Please.” She slid over a few inches, giving him more room than necessary. She wore a dress of deep blue, which contrasted beautifully with the pink in her cheeks. “I am glad you are here to join us. I cannot tell you how much I look forward to a better opportunity to speak with you.” The words spilled from her as water cascaded from a fountain, clear and sweet, but rushed. “I went to your family’s estate this morning, as my aunt and I planned. The weather kept our tour mostly indoors, but Samuel was very good to show us about. It seemed everywhere I turned I could see the ghosts of our childhood selves, playing and inventing all sorts of trouble.” She took a breath, the color in her cheeks deepened and she lowered her eyes again. “We had a great many lovely days in that house, did we not?”
“We did.” He shifted in his seat and ran his hand across the arm of the couch. He looked away from her, though studying her profile brought him every kind of happiness. “We were troublesome little creatures at times, if I remember correctly.”
He saw her turn to him from the corner of his eye. “You always took the brunt of our punishment when we stepped too far across your father’s line.”
With a shrug, Robert shifted just enough to meet her gaze. “As was my duty, as a gentleman.” He tilted his chin upward, trying to affect a noble expression. “What knight would ever allow a lady to suffer when he could prevent it? Besides.” He lowered his voice and tipped toward her a few inches. “I think my father knew well enough you were equally to blame, but he liked you better than he liked me.”
A light laugh escaped her, but not for more than a moment. What a moment that was. Penny shook her head and folded her hands primly in her lap. “Of course he liked me best. I am a lovely person. Everyone says so.”
“Do they?” he teased. “I seem to recall a certain girl people thought ‘lovely’ pushing me into the lake. Pelting me with snowballs. Hiding frogs in my boots.” He faced her more directly, holding up fingers for every misdeed he recounted. “Sneaking a mouse into my bedroom, and then a cat to catch it. That was a horrid night. Then there was the time—”
“Oh, do stop. You make me sound beastly.” Her shoulders shook with laughter though she pressed her lips closed with her fingers, a likely effort to regain control of her amusement. Then she shook her finger at him. “You were just as terrible, you know. I pushed you into the lake because you insulted my bonnet.”
“Those gray feathers made it appear as though a pigeon had nested upon it,” he said with a casual shrug.
“And you threw snowballs right back. The frogs were merited, of course, because you threatened to leave them in my slippers. Then you—”
He caught her wrist to keep her finger from shaking in his direction. “I know. I made you think I put a mouse in your new reticule, which you then threw, and it landed in the mud. Yes. I remember. It was quite thoughtful of you to find a barn cat capable of hunting the beast down again. Though I have often wondered how you caught the mouse in the first place, when you were so frightened of them.”
Sh
e raised her eyebrows. “I will never reveal that secret, in case I have need of using it again.”
He laughed and his thumb idly slid across her wrist in an almost-caress. She sobered at his touch, her breathing stilled.
“It is decided,” Mrs. Devon stated as she and her husband swept into the room. Robert hastily released Penny and moved as far as he could to the opposite end of the couch while she did the same. “Miss Clark will stay the night.”
“Oh, how thoughtful. Thank you, Mrs. Devon. I hope it is not an imposition—”
“Not at all.” The married woman beamed at them both, so Robert returned her smile, though it faltered when he caught his employer’s somewhat intense stare. Had Devon seen him holding Miss Clark’s wrist? Had he appeared threatening or merely overly familiar? Whatever the case, Robert had no intention of giving any reason for Devon to question him on it.
Devon’s suspicious stare turned somewhat sly. “You will have to stay as well, Ellsworth.”
Robert’s response sounded strained even to his own ears. “That is not necessary, Mr. Devon. My house is nearly upon your own property. I could make it there in a blizzard and remain safe enough.”
Mrs. Devon looked between Robert and her husband, then at Penny. “It only makes sense, Mr. Ellsworth. If we keep one of our dinner guests, we ought to keep the other.”
Despite his protests, the couple insisted—Devon with an expression that said he guessed entirely too well about Robert’s thoughts on the lovely Miss Clark. When dinner was announced, Robert took Mrs. Devon into the table while Penny was escorted by Mr. Devon. After all were seated and made the appropriate comments regarding the loveliness of the table, Devon brought the conversation around to a subject no one seemed capable of avoiding: the weather.
“Ellsworth and I have ridden out to the eastern meadows twice this week, to check the pond and the stream it feeds between our property and the Gilbert estate. The water is far past its usual boarders. I fear, before long, we may have a great deal of trouble in the village.”
The lady of the house examined her husband carefully, as though attempting to determine his level of concern before deciding on her own. “It was all anyone talked about yesterday, when we delivered the baskets and good tidings. I rode with Father, Miss Clark with the curate, but we all had similar conversations.”
Whoever made the assignments for delivery partners had obviously been making an attempt at matchmaking. The curate had courted Mrs. Devon, or Miss Ames two years ago, and been rejected in favor of Harry Devon. Everyone knew the story. Yet the curate had proven a man not prone to hold a grudge and carried on quite amicably in the community, despite his romantic disappointment.
Though he hated to admit it to himself, or out loud, Robert had to make some comment on the matter. What had Penny thought of the curate? “Mr. Haskett escorted you, Miss Clark?”
Penny looked across the small table at him, the usual brightness in her features dimmed. “Yes, he did. He is a very fine gentleman, courteous and kind. He obviously cares a great deal for everyone in the community. He soothed as many fears as he could, but many families are expecting hardship to result from all this rain. Several are already blaming illnesses upon the weather, and nearly everyone beseeched Mr. Haskett to keep praying for an end to it.”
Guilt at his own selfish reason for the line of conversation momentarily stinged Robert’s heart. He silently begged forgiveness for allowing jealousy to creep in, turning his attention to his plate rather than to Penny. “As we all should pray for an end to this weather, before more serious harm comes from it.”
“The London papers all tell of flooding. Dams breaking.” Mrs. Devon touched a hand to her forehead. “I wish there were a way to help. I cannot remember the weather ever being this terrible. I worry for the children especially. They grow ill, and they suffer—whether they are the children of London’s streets or the little ones in our village trapped in drafty houses.”
For a time after Mrs. Devon spoke, the only sound any of them heard was that of rain upon the windows.
“I am grateful you allowed me to stay this evening,” Penny said, her voice breaking the silence in her humble thanks. “I do not enjoy traveling in such a downpour as this. I am afraid rain makes me rather nervous.”
“Then this must be a trying time for you,” Mrs. Devon said sympathetically. “I am pleased you agreed to stay. We will enjoy our meal together and retire to the parlor. Truly, it will be a great treat to have you. Poor Harry has had to content himself with only me for conversation and entertainment for such a long time.” Her eyes sparkled as she looked at her husband, sharing a smile with him that held more meaning than Robert could understand.
His gaze moved to Penny to see if she had noted the couple’s warm exchange, only to find her already watching him. One corner of her mouth tipped upward as though to say, I do not think they mind each other’s company in the least.
Robert chuckled and hid the sound by clearing his throat.
Casting a frown at him, Devon leaned over the table. “Are you all right, Ellsworth?”
With a hasty nod, Robert took up his cup and swallowed, pretending to have experienced a food difficulty.
Penny lowered her eyes and raised a linen square to cover her mouth, her shoulders shaking enough for him to know she struggled to stifle her own laughter, likely at Robert’s expense.
When the conversation safely turned to another topic, he found himself wishing for Penny’s eyes to return to him once more. When they finally did, there was a somewhat playful apology within them for the ruckus she had caused. They had almost always known what the other was thinking in childhood. Knowing that they still had that much of a connection, even if it had resurfaced at an odd moment, wrapped Robert’s heart in warm contentment. No matter how they had grown, no matter their current circumstances, they were yet the closest of friends.
Chapter 10
After dinner, everyone adjourned to the parlor. The gentlemen had already spent the entire day working together, it seemed, and thus had no reason to remain behind for the purpose of business. Penny would have been disappointed if this were the case. Every additional moment in Robert’s company was another thing to be grateful for, especially knowing she would leave him behind again soon enough.
The group settled into the same comfortable parlor where Mrs. Devon and Penny had chatted away the afternoon, reliving their shared childhood with fondness. The women had delighted in exchanging those memories for nearly an hour. The only ones left unspoken were the ones of the boy Robert, the ones that had involuntarily flooded into Penny’s mind. He had always been there.
A part of Penny had hoped—had held onto the girlhood dream—of becoming more than a friend to him. But it was not to be. Not if he had his eyes and heart set upon another. What was she to do? With her brothers leaving to make their way in the world, and her aunt and uncle’s own children grown and doing the same, Penny could not allow herself to depend upon their kindness for much longer.
“How is it,” Mr. Devon asked politely, “that the three of you knew each other so well, yet I never came to know any of you better than a nodding acquaintance?”
Daisy Devon positioned herself on the couch next to her husband, giving his arm a conciliatory pat. “Your father had no wish for you to mix with the locals, darling. We could not possibly aid you in attaining the greatness he hoped for you.”
“True enough,” Robert agreed with a crooked smirk. “You also attended the wrong school, you know.”
“One would say you attended the wrong school,” Harry said with a similar smug grin. Obviously, the gentlemen had made a habit of jesting with each other on whose educational institution was the better of the two—Harrow or Eton.
“You men and your schools. You do not hear Miss Clark and I arguing over which of us is the better scholar or seamstress.” Daisy nudged her husband in the shoulder, fondly rebuking him.
The window behind her told of the rain still pattering at a qu
ick pace, and storms often left her distracted; but from her place in a chair near the fire, Penny observed the married couple with greater interest. Everything about Daisy, the way she turned toward her husband, her hand remaining upon his arm, and the fondness in her gaze, spoke of contentment and comfort. Penny had once hoped to obtain something like that for herself.
“You ladies are certainly above such behavior. We are not at all worthy of your company,” Mr. Devon said, looking with equal tenderness upon his wife.
From the corner of her eye, Penny watched Robert as he sat in the chair nearest her own. Only a small, circular table separated them. She had much preferred when nothing had stood between them, as when they had shared the larger piece of furniture on the other side of the Persian rug. But such closeness would never do. Hoping he might take up her hand, as he had momentarily held her wrist in his gentle grasp, was foolish.
“I would not go so far as that,” Daisy said, looking rather as though she wished to tuck herself closer to her husband and forget they had guests. Instead, she abruptly addressed Penny. “Miss Clark, do tell my husband what you think of my idea to start a school for girls. You are uniquely situated to explain to him how it would be of benefit to more than just the children.”
“A school for girls?” Robert leaned back in his chair, crossing his legs before him in a somewhat casual manner. “You mean the school where you currently teach, in the village?”
Daisy had told Penny all about her efforts to educate the daughters of the local tradesmen and farmers. Several days a week, the morning school would meet within the village itself. Although the school would not start again until after Epiphany, Daisy adored her scholars and already planned upon taking on more.
“Something like that,” Daisy answered. “Only larger, allowing for more students and less of the work laid upon my own shoulders. There is a vast deal to do, and I cannot accomplish it all alone. Especially with the household to run, and our expectation for a child of our own in the spring.”
Penny’s Yuletide Wish: A Branches of Love Novella Page 6
