by Lily George
The teakettle whistled loudly, as though reminding her where her duties lay. She scooped tea leaves into the strainer and poured the boiling water over them. Warming her hands around the cup, she settled back into her chair and breathed deeply, savoring the spicy scent of her tea as it brewed.
As she waited, a handsome carriage flashed past. How odd, to have a member of the gentry here in the village on a Sunday morning. Teacup in hand, she strolled over to the display window to have a closer look.
Gracious, how very strange. The carriage stopped just past the shop, and as she watched, a servant in a vaguely familiar uniform alit. She took a step back in shock, and the older man strode purposefully past the window and knocked sharply on her door.
Susannah set the cup on the display table and looked down at her dishabille in dismay. There was no way she could dress herself and be presentable in enough time to answer his knock. And no way to pretend she hadn’t heard—he might have glimpsed her spying on him through the window. Well, if gentry needed a bonnet at the crack of dawn on a Sunday, she should not expect her milliner to be dressed to perfection.
Tightening her wrapper around her middle, she opened the door slightly. “Yes?”
“Miss Siddons,” the servant said with a bow. “Mr. Hale has sent you his carriage to use today. His understanding is that you wish to attend services at St. Mary’s in Crich. Our instructions are to take you and your sisters there and to bring you home whenever you wish.”
Susannah gasped. Should she be scandalized that she would be traipsing around the countryside in a young man’s carriage, or should she be grateful at Daniel’s generosity? This was so much like the old Daniel she’d known. Scandalously generous. Turning such a blind eye to society’s dictates that he had no concept of the havoc he could wreak.
“Thank you, but—” she managed to say weakly.
“Mr. Hale said we were not to leave until we had fulfilled our duties, miss. So if you’ll pardon me, we shall just be waiting in the carriage until you and your sisters are ready.” With a bow that put paid to any further argument, the servant walked back to the carriage and clasped his hands behind his back with a dignified gesture.
Susannah shut the door and leaned against it, her head swimming. If she continued to refuse, then soon the rest of the village would be treated to the sight of Daniel’s carriage waiting, immovably, before her shop.
A scuffling of sisterly feet cascaded down the staircase.
“Susannah! Whatever is happening?” Becky panted as she and Nan scurried into the room.
“Daniel sent his carriage for us. So we could go to St. Mary’s for services.” Susannah crossed her arms over her chest and leaned against the door.
“Wonderful! How lovely of him to think of us.” Becky clapped her hands. “I can be ready in two shakes of a lamb’s tail.”
“And I can, too,” Nan added. “After all those years at Uncle’s and no church services, how nice it will be to attend a proper Sabbath service.”
“We can’t go,” Susannah stated flatly. “We can’t very well be seen traipsing all over the countryside in a young bachelor’s carriage. What would people think?”
“It’s not as though we are going to Vauxhall Gardens,” Becky chided, a frown creasing her lips. “Going to church is perfectly respectable.”
“And if we send them away, it could hurt Daniel’s feelings. He is trying to be nice,” Nan reminded Susannah, her most wheedling “baby sister” expression on her face.
“They won’t go away. His servant just assured me that they would not leave without us.” Susannah sighed, exasperation welling in her soul. “What am I to do? They’ll cause a scandal if they stay, and we’ll create a scandal if we go.”
Her sisters fell quiet, contemplating the matter. Nan twirled a long, dark lock of hair around one finger, as was her habit when deep in thought. As Susannah surveyed them, her old feelings of protectiveness surged within. No matter what happened, her sisters had to be protected and sheltered from anything bad that could happen. Even if harm befell her, ’twas her duty to protect them.
’Twas the only thing keeping her from storming outside, nightgown and all, to inform that smug servant just exactly where he could drive that carriage.
“Perhaps we could ask him to come along,” Becky finally ventured, raising her dark, soulful eyes to Susannah’s. “We could ask him to come with us, and then no one would think a thing of it.”
“Yes!” Nan’s head snapped up. “And if you are still worried about scandal, we could tell him to bring a maid along to chaperone. Our families were old friends, after all.”
“I don’t know...” Susannah murmured. It did make a kind of sense. And Becky’s plan served two purposes. It allowed them to remove the carriage from the outside of the store, and it allowed her the chance to give Daniel a choice little piece of her mind. But still—attend services with Daniel? She stifled a laugh at the thought. He’d never attended services before, not even in his youth. ’Twas unlikely indeed that he would start doing so now.
So if Daniel didn’t come, she could at least be rid of his carriage, and she could give him a right talking-to for sending it over to begin with. “Very well. I agree, it’s the only solution we can find, given the terribly short notice.” She motioned to her sisters with a wave of her hands. “Let’s hurry and dress. If we’re to drive out to Goodwin Hall, collect Daniel and then drive out to Crich, we mustn’t dawdle.”
Nan rushed out of the room, her footsteps echoing two at a time as she climbed the stairs. But Becky stayed behind and fixed Susannah with one of her rare, pointed looks.
“Promise me you’ll be kind to him. He offered his carriage out of politeness and nothing more.”
And nothing more! Susannah bit back a bitter chuckle at that. There were a hundred reasons Daniel would have sent his carriage—to tease her, to worry her, to make a joke, to make sport of her religion. None of them were kind. He was always so mischievous that his jokes had, as a child, bordered on rudeness.
“I’ll keep a civil tongue in my head,” she agreed.
But she refused to agree to more than that.
* * *
Daniel stirred, his cheek brushing against something that crackled painfully. There were noises in the hall. Terribly loud, cackling sounds like an enormous chicken leading two baby chicks. He forced his eyes open, wincing at the pain of the action. He’d fallen asleep in the study. With infinitesimally small movements, he pushed himself up to a sitting position. The ledger book had been his pillow last night. As he raised his hands to steady his spinning head, he caught a glimpse of a long ink smear across one palm.
Well, he had tried, after all, to do something about those ridiculous accounts that Donaldson had pestered him about. It’s just, well—he couldn’t do it. Account books meant obligations, and obligations would turn him into a dour old man. Better to have a drink...or two...or three...than to try to master something beyond his comprehension.
The cackling sound grew louder. He opened his mouth to protest but could manage naught but a hoarse whisper.
Before he could wipe the ink from his hand, the door to the study slammed open, and Baxter bustled in as though he was being pushed from behind. “Miss Susannah Siddons, sir,” he managed to say before Susannah swirled into the room.
“That will be all,” Susannah assured Baxter, who bowed with something like relief before quitting the room.
Daniel blinked twice, slowly, as he gazed at Susannah. Her sudden appearance, gowned in a dark purple dress and a fetching bonnet that did little to conceal the bright glow of her hair, gave him the impression that he was being granted a favor from a queen.
And then the queen spoke.
“Daniel, it smells like a gaming hall in here.” She cast her wrap aside and untied her bonnet ribbons, placing the confection on the settee.
Then she stalked over to the windows, drawing the curtains and flinging up the sash of each in turn. Fresh air and sunlight poured into the room, and Daniel fought the urge to be sick. He couldn’t be sick in front of a lady.
“Susy...don’t...” he begged, his voice cracking.
“I’m glad I left my sisters in the entry. They shouldn’t ever have to see a man looking or smelling like this. And I told you not to call me Susy.” She turned from the windows and faced him, hands on her hips. “Did you send round your carriage for us when you were still in your cups? It seems like the kind of joke you’d play.”
He licked his lips and took a deep breath. “No. I did it before.”
“This is absurd.” Susannah crossed the floor, her boot heels hammering a tattoo in his head. She grasped the bellpull and rang it. “You simply cannot go to church in this condition.”
Daniel grasped his pounding head. “Do be quiet,” he croaked.
“Oh, I am sorry, Mr. Hale.” She gave him a mocking curtsy. “Shall I play a polka on the pianoforte? Something good and loud to awaken you?”
“No.” The saliva churned in his mouth. He couldn’t be sick in front of Susannah. He grasped the nearby wastebasket and breathed deeply. He was too far gone to even be ashamed.
Behind him, a gentle hand patted his back. “There, there. Keep breathing, that’s the way.” Susannah passed her handkerchief over his forehead. The clean scent of orange blossom soothed his roiling stomach and he closed his eyes, allowing its medicinal scent to calm him down.
The study door opened, and Susannah turned from Daniel, addressing a shocked Baxter. “Mr. Hale is sick,” she informed him. “Draw his bath and have Cook make a tray of crackers and strong tea. Send them up to his bedroom when he is done bathing. And show my sisters into the parlor. We shall be here rather longer than I thought.”
Daniel marveled at the speed with which she dispatched Baxter. With those commandeering ways, she could have been a ship’s captain. “How did you know?” he croaked. It was all he could manage. He wanted to ask a million questions, but they would have to come later, when he felt better.
“My uncle used to come in from faro in much worse shape,” she said with a shrug. “And I watched the whole household cater to him.”
The vile uncle. The one who spent her inheritance and who tried to force her into an unwanted marriage. This was the uncle that had driven her to come to Daniel for help, and then he’d failed her. To be cast in the same group as him was as low as a fellow could sink. Daniel burned with shame. “I am sorry.”
“Come now, don’t be maudlin. Let’s see if you can stand.” She held out her hand and helped to draw him to his feet. He swayed unsteadily, and Susannah wrapped his arm around her shoulder. She was at least a head shorter than him, but her strength flowed through his body and his trembling eased. “Good. Let us walk forward. I shall try to get you upstairs so that Baxter may help you.”
They took a step together. It was like dancing. He hadn’t danced with Susannah in ever so long. He’d partnered her often in the little country gatherings that were held in the village hall, but never in those merry dances had he felt as close to her as he did at this moment. She knew all his terrible secrets now. And despite that, she was helping him.
As they made their way around his desk, he allowed his head to droop—just a bit—as he breathed in deeply. Susannah smelled so good. Her orange blossom scent was curative in its potency today. And if he leaned a bit closer, he could just catch the scent of her magnificent auburn hair, twisted and looped on top of her head. Would her hair smell like orange blossoms, too?
His mind flashed back to the day they’d sat on her back porch, the length of her hair unbound and flowing to her waist. Why hadn’t he tried to touch a lock of her hair as it had floated in the late-afternoon breeze? The thought of how lovely she’d looked as the setting sun gilded her red hair to gold caught in his throat and he coughed painfully.
Why was he always reminiscing about Susannah and how she had been, how she had looked, how she had spoken?
Why did she linger in his mind so persistently?
“There now, we’re almost to the banister,” she murmured in her quiet voice as they crossed the threshold. “Can you make it up the stairs alone? Or shall I call Baxter?”
“Can’t you help me?” he asked. If he kept her with him a little bit longer, maybe he could solve the mystery. ’Twas rather like a Gothic novel. The Mystery of the Captivating Auburn-Haired Lady.
“Don’t be daft,” she muttered. “’Tis scandalous enough that you sent your carriage for me. And even more scandalous that I am here, now, helping you, as it is. I can’t very well assist you to your room.” She paused at the foot of the stairs and gazed up at him. “Can you make it on your own?”
He looked at the staircase. It shifted strangely from side to side, and he blinked a few times before forcing himself to focus. “Yes, I think I can.”
“Very good.” She took his arm from around her shoulder and placed his hand on the banister. “Go slowly. I shall watch your progress from here. I don’t want you to fall and hurt yourself.”
He took a careful step. All was going better than he thought. He might actually make it up the stairs under his own power. And all this thanks to his fiancée. He owed her a debt of gratitude. “Susannah, please stay for luncheon. ’Tis the least I can do to thank you, after all your help this morning.”
She tilted her chin, as though considering his offer and preparing to give him a sharp no. Then, inexplicably, her features changed, and she nodded. “Very well. My sisters are here with me. Do you object to them staying, as well?”
“No, indeed.” He liked Nan and Becky. They were both sweet, good-tempered girls. Having them here would chase off the hours of monotony and make the day speed by faster. “I should like to have you all as my guests this afternoon. I shall be down as soon as I can.”
“Don’t rush yourself,” she cautioned dryly. “Do take your time.”
Daniel chuckled and ascended the stairs slowly, one at a time. Above him, Baxter awaited, drawing his bathwater. Below, Susannah patiently watched his progress, her gloved hand clutching the balustrade.
He was a fortunate fellow indeed to have people to take care of him.
If only he’d taken care of others half as well.
Chapter Eight
Baxter knocked discreetly on the parlor door before showing himself in. “Miss Siddons, Mr. Hale has asked if you would make your own selections for luncheon. You may have anything you wish, according to the master.”
Susannah glanced up in surprise. Usually these fine houses had menus planned out well in advance. “I wouldn’t dream of changing whatever Cook has chosen for today’s menu.”
Baxter gave a slight cough. “There was no menu set for today, Miss Siddons. You may choose anything you wish, and Cook will be only too glad to make it for you.”
Susannah’s confusion grew, and she drew her eyebrows together. “But surely Mr. Hale wanted lunch?”
“Mr. Hale will usually have a slice of bread or some bacon. When he remembers to eat.” Baxter shifted his weight uneasily and looked down as though he found his shoes suddenly quite interesting.
The bachelor lifestyle. How very provoking. Here Daniel had an entire estate at his command, servants aplenty, and he would gnaw at a crust of bread for luncheon. Oh, what she could do with just one servant to help her! She paused for a moment, allowing her mind to drift. Someone to help with the cooking and the cleaning...to run errands...
She snapped back to reality and gave herself a little shake. “Then I think we shall have a roast chicken. Have the cook rub it in rosemary—that will give it a nice flavor. A few vegetables—haricots verts, perhaps? And new potatoes. Bread with butter, of course. And for dessert, perhaps a fool or a trifle.”
Besid
e her, Nan and Becky smiled appreciatively, and Baxter bowed with respect. “Of course, Miss Siddons. Anything else?”
“Yes, Baxter.” She drew herself up and looked him straight in the eye. “Absolutely no wine with our meal.”
A smile hovered over the butler’s reserved features. “As you wish, Miss Siddons.”
Both girls waited until Baxter closed the door, and then Becky leaped from the settee. “Oh, Susannah, you thought of a menu just like that. Just like a lady of the manor. Imagine having all this to call your very own. Are you so certain that you wouldn’t be happy as Mrs. Daniel Hale?”
“Hush.” Heat rushed to Susannah’s cheeks. What if Daniel overheard her sister’s babbling? “Don’t be absurd. There was never a thought in his mind or in mine that I would be mistress of Goodwin Hall.”
“But, Sue,” Nan implored, her dark eyes sparkling. “Imagine. Servants to do your bidding. A grand home. And acres and acres of beautiful land.” She indicated the view through the window of the rolling moors stretching out as far as the eye could see, framed by damask curtains.
“Yes, Daniel has been blessed. But the only reason we are here—and not in church—is because Daniel was—” how to say this delicately? “—quite sick when we arrived. I want to make certain that he is well before we leave. We shall dine with him and then go home to say our prayers. And there is to be no more talk about life here at Goodwin. We should be quite satisfied with the life we have.” She shot her sisters her best “eldest sister” look. “Understand?”
“Yes, Susannah.”
“Yes, Sue.”
Even though her siblings promised to stop their reminiscing, Susannah found it difficult not to allow her thoughts to wander the same path. How would her life be different now, had her engagement to Daniel run its course? What if they had wed, after all? Would she, even now, be planning the week’s menu with Cook in the kitchen? Would she be waiting for her husband to escort her to church, his green eyes dancing with mischief and a dimple creasing his angular cheek?
