I jumped in my seat as my father placed his hand on my shoulder and gave it a slight squeeze. Lord Dalry crossed his arms, studying me as if taking note that I startled when touched. Between his evaluation and my father’s unexpected gesture, I felt unable to collect myself.
“Sir, may I have a private word with your daughter first?”
“Isaac!”
“One moment. Please.”
My father must have answered with a nod and then motioned to Mr. Forrester, for they marched from the chamber. Not certain what Lord Dalry wanted, I fastened my gaze on the heavy wine goblet before me, refusing to look at him. He, however, laid his forearm over the table and leaned into my view.
“Listen,” he said, his tone soft. “Mr. Forrester will likely leave for London tonight, as your father now sees benefit in having him gone. I’m not certain I shall be back in time for breakfast, but I’ll try. I promised my mother and sister they’d have time with me during the off-season. I gave my word months ago, and I’ve been remiss in that promise twice. This time of year, your father takes his breakfast at eight. Be certain you are timely.”
I cocked my head. “Why are you telling me this?”
He gave a sad smile, then leaned back in his chair and viewed the dining chamber with different eyes. His mouth pursed as if he’d tasted a sour wine. When he spoke, I barely caught his next words. “Trust me, I know better than you realize what you’re undergoing. It becomes easier from here.”
Then, like a true member of the gentry, unaffected by the ripples of change, he rose, bowed, and left.
Sometime after midnight, the sound of a horse’s whinny woke me. I opened my eyes to a dimly lit room. A feeling of calm had replaced the heaviness I’d taken to bed. I rubbed my eyes, trying to account for the change. Gradually I became aware that firelight burnished the walls, warming the chamber. I sank back into the pillow, noting that Mrs. Coleman must be happy for the recovery of her staff.
Once more a horse nickered, only this time it sounded closer. Curious, I slid from bed, lit a candle, and retreated to the window. In the ravine, the outline of Eastbourne could barely be seen as it was barraged by precipitation.
A wide circle of lantern light turned the corner of Maplecroft, followed by a groom holding the light aloft. Behind him, a man sat upon a steed. I leaned forward, squinting. It wasn’t difficult to recognize Mr. Forrester’s rumpled silhouette. Thankfully, darkness hid his expression, though I could well imagine it as he caught sight of me, then turned toward Eastbourne as if to ascertain what I’d been looking at. I frowned, considering what he’d tell my father.
Looking over his shoulder, he studied me for a moment as if wanting me to feel the weight of his accusation, before his shoulders squared and he lifted his reins. Despite the mud, his horse picked its way down the road that led from Maplecroft and past Eastbourne.
I sighed with relief, glad I needn’t be worried about his loathsome presence in the morning. Though I didn’t want to care, a small part of me hoped that with Forrester gone, there might now be a chance of winning my father’s approval.
ICY SHARDS of rain slanted inward and blended with the muddy footprints that had been trampled indoors by the servants. I paused midway down the stairs to watch. Pallid faces huffed with exertion as they hefted trunks and carried them outdoors, where the remnants of night waned. Beyond my view, the crunch of carriage wheels on cobblestone combined with the slap of leather against horseflesh.
Simmons looked over from where he supervised. With a frown that made his bushy eyebrows extend over his spectacles, he jabbed the air in the direction of the breakfast chamber, an indication of where I was expected to go. “No slacking,” he barked at a stable hand who stopped to tip his hat. “Back to work. Now!”
I folded my arms against the cold that streamed through the open door, then hurried down the last few stairs and hastened to the breakfast chamber. As I reached the threshold, however, a burst of girlish laughter sounded from within. Stunned, I paused and peeked inside.
To my astonishment, Lord Dalry had returned. He sat at the far end of the table, concentrating hard on a small leather volume. A girl dressed in pale-yellow travel attire sat next to him, waving her spoon within his line of vision as if trying to break his attention. Glossy amber-colored hair was piled high atop her head, but it was so curly that natural ringlets had escaped, framing her face and gracing her neck.
“You can ignore me.” Her voice was singsong. “But I know you can see me.”
Lord Dalry did not so much as blink, though he gave a slight sigh, bringing about another round of girlish laughter.
She turned in my direction and gasped, grasping his arm. “Oh, Isaac! She’s here! She’s finally here!”
Lord Dalry lowered his book and regarded me. He kept his debonair expression as he stood. “Miss Pierson, may I have the pleasure of introducing you to—”
With a toss of curls, the girl rushed to me and grabbed my hand. “Oh, we are to be the very dearest of friends! I just know it. Oh, how I know it. Just you wait! You’ll see I’m right. I’m always right about these sort of things.”
Uncertain what to make of her sudden rush to offer me friendship, I took a step backwards.
She leaned closer. “Doesn’t it feel like we’re already sisters! I nearly spent the last fortnight weeping in anguish for you. Every time I thought about—”
“Kate!” Lord Dalry’s tone brooked no argument. “Miss Pierson is a young lady of good breeding. Do not display your lack of refinement. You are not to speak unless she asks you questions. Take your seat this instant.”
Kate dipped her head as though humbled by his rebuke, but carefully keeping her face shielded from his view, she smirked at me, rolling her eyes.
“Your father has invited my younger sister to join us,” Lord Dalry explained as he held out a chair for me. “He thought you would enjoy a travelling companion.”
Kate stifled a laugh. “And he woke us up at three in the morning too! Mama was beside herself to ready me in time.”
The rate at which this girl poured out her thoughts and feelings to others was overwhelming.
I took my seat, wary of the both of them as I made them my study. Their ease struck me first. They sat with the carefree manner of those who know they belong in their surroundings. I scanned the table next, surprised to discover their plates were full.
Lord Dalry took his seat, his blue eyes trained on me. I refused to meet his gaze.
When Eaton announced my father a moment later, Lord Dalry smiled with affection and stood. I bunched a fistful of my skirt, uncertain whether to rise. I took my cue from Kate, who remained in her seat, staring wide-eyed.
My father’s eyes crinkled as he went straight to Lord Dalry and patted his arm. “Son, thank you for joining us on such short notice.”
Jealousy and wistfulness stabbed my heart at the realization that my father called Lord Dalry son. I straightened, awaiting my greeting.
Instead, he turned toward the girl. “Ah, Katherine, so you decided to accept my invitation? I am certain my daughter will greatly benefit from your example and companionship.”
Miss Dalry covered her mouth, giggling. Beneath the table, something bumped the table leg, so I assumed she’d swung her legs too. My father gave her an indulgent smile; then either not seeing or ignoring the fact that I awaited his acknowledgment, he sat and took an orange from a silver bowl and began peeling it with a knife.
Lord Dalry, however, carefully measured my reactions. I tried to pretend I cared not and fumbled with my napkin.
A moment later, Eaton delivered a stack of newspapers, all cut and ironed. The interested expression my father gave them ended any hope that he’d speak to me next.
Lord Dalry set aside his book. “May I see the Morning Gazette? I wish to read the article Forrester told us to expect today.”
My father nodded permission and unfurled the Times for himself. I stared at the paper barrier between us, unable to believe he’d not
even wished me a good morning.
Kate leaned over her plate. “Excuse me, sir, but have you learned whether the Prescots will host their annual ball this year?”
I cringed, waiting for his rebuke. Lord Dalry stopped reading, but it was me he studied.
My father dipped his paper, making a crinkling sound. Teasing filled his voice. “I might have overheard some nonsense about a dance.”
Kate squealed, clapping her hands, and turned toward me. “I can’t wait for you to see their ball. They empty the entire downstairs to—”
“Kate,” Lord Dalry said after glancing in my direction, “do not speak at the table unless you are spoken to.”
“No, no.” My father leaned back with a smile. “Allow the girls to prattle.”
I felt my eyes widen with indignation as I signalled James for tea. Prattle, I thought, clenching my spoon. Had I prattled? Had I even spoken one word?
Across the table, Lord Dalry continued to observe me with a look of concern.
Kate propped her elbows on the table and faced my father with shining eyes. “I already know what I’ll wear! Remember that darling velvet gown you sent for Christmas?”
My spoon clattered to my saucer, drawing Lord Dalry’s full attention, for he folded the paper and set it aside, keeping his eyes trained on me.
But I didn’t care. A chasm of hurt opened in my soul. There hadn’t been meat or coal at my house last Christmas. My dress had been in tatters, literally threadbare at the elbows. Yet my father had sent this giggling girl a Christmas present?
I viewed the table laden with food before me, realizing more was wasted at breakfast here than Mama and I had eaten in a week.
Once again, as if able to read my thoughts, Lord Dalry looked pained for me as I tried to adjust my emotions.
“Julia, answer her question!” my father ordered.
Pulled from my thoughts, I realized Kate had spouted some nonsense in my direction. “What question?”
“About dances! Did you dance at your school?” Kate leaned forward with excitement.
“No,” I responded. “We were far too hungry and too poor to think of such nonsense!” Then with a sudden rush of anger, “One time we spent an entire afternoon picking mealworms out of the flour, just so we could have something for dinner.”
Kate gaped, stunned to silence.
“Of all the lies—” My father fisted his napkin, red creeping up his neck.
“Sir,” Lord Dalry said quietly, “my sister’s place is below that of your daughter. As hostess, if your daughter wishes conversation, allow her to lead it. Kate, no more talk. Be quiet.”
My father grew remarkably red in less than a second as he continued to glare at me. “How dare you act so—”
Lord Dalry placed both hands on the table as if ready to rise. “You’ll have to forgive me, sir. But the offense is Kate’s. It wasn’t her place to push Miss Pierson when it’s clear she desires peace. This is her house. This is her table. She should not be forced to accommodate my sister.”
“Her house? Her table? Isaac, even you forget your place. My daughter’s duty is to grace the table, not sit there and spin tales of woe. And if you think I’m going to tolerate her fibs—”
“I detected no deception, sir.”
“Are you suggesting that I allowed my daughter to live in unfit circumst—?”
“I’m suggesting that you were unaware, sir. Please, do not add to her burden by punishing her for speaking truth.”
My father set down his newspaper, choking on his anger. “Eaton, tell Simmons to prepare a separate carriage for my daughter and Miss Dalry. Isaac and I will ride alone.” My father clenched his fists. “Apparently there are matters we still need to discuss.”
Lord Dalry gave a sigh as he set down his cup and looked in my direction with a hopeful expression, but I would not acknowledge him.
His ability to sense my thoughts was too unsettling, for I could not yet read him.
“Be sure to keep your feet dry.” Mrs. Coleman tugged at the top button of my mantelet.
I nodded and adjusted the cuffs of my sleeves, surprised by my desire for tears.
“I daresay you’ll find the London House staff as efficient as ours.” She gave a sly smile. “You may coop up Mrs. King all hours of the day now if you like, though I warrant you’ll be far too busy for that.”
I tugged on my gloves, then clasped one of her hands between mine, realizing that she’d become my refuge at Maplecroft. Tears lodged in my throat as I wondered if I could convince my father to allow me to stay at Maplecroft with his elderly housekeeper. He stood a short distance away, speaking in terse whispers to Simmons, who held open a large leather ledger and trailed down one column with a gnarled finger. Their expressions alone killed any hope of approaching them.
I gave Mrs. Coleman a teary smile. “I don’t know how I shall ever manage without you.”
Her mouth pursed as she stepped back, though her eyes glistened. “Nonsense! You’ll be perfectly fine. Master Isaac will see to that.” She glanced over my shoulder. “Never thought the lad would come to mean so much to the house.” She shook her head. “I still remember the day Lord Pierson set the boy down in the foyer and announced his intentions to raise him. Such a sight, Master Isaac fresh from his father’s grave, too old to be sucking his thumb.
“Sad days those were. I could tell you stories that would make you thankful your homecoming wasn’t Master Isaac’s.” All at once, she straightened, dusted off her hands, then addressed me in a no-argument tone. “If you’ll take my advice, you’ll let go of your prissy ways and accept all the help that lad gives you. You’ll never find a truer soul on God’s green earth, and that’s a fact.”
Winding a muffler about my neck, I looked farther down the hall, where Lady Dalry had come to bid her children farewell. Her picture was the opposite of my father. The kindness in her smile and eyes quelled fear. She stood with one hand on Lord Dalry’s cheek, gazing up at him. They spoke their own silent language, one that gave utterance to something full of tender mercy and yet unyielding strength.
I stood transfixed as volumes of instructions and information passed between them, none of which I could translate. Their look made me think that if I could understand, I’d find something wonderful and transforming. Lady Dalry’s other arm was draped over Kate, who had no clue as to what transpired above her. With both arms wrapped about her mother’s waist, she sobbed bitterly.
I can still see the picture Lady Dalry made that day.
Tawny hair pulled into a loose braid that wound about her head complemented the crocheted, homemade-looking shawl pinned about her shoulders. Her dress was nothing more fancy than serviceable muslin. Her red jacket was faded. She was the first lady I’d ever encountered in homemade attire, making her a novelty.
As I studied her, she suddenly turned toward me. Whatever expression she saw on my face instantly warmed hers. As easily as someone pulling out miscounted rows of knitting, she disentangled herself from Kate and floated in my direction.
“Miss Pierson,” she said, her voice as amber as honey. With the gentlest of touches, she cupped my cheek. Then staring at me with glistening eyes, she stated, “Oh, Roy, she’s truly lovely. Lovely.”
At that moment, my soul was laid before her, and as I’d experienced with her son, I had no ability to hide it. My bottom lip trembled as I tried to wall her out. I doubted not she saw everything: my grief over Mama, my fear of Mr. Macy, my longing for Edward, my resistance toward the friendship her children offered me, and the burning anger I felt toward my father. Compassion softened her features as I tried to deflect her direct stare by dropping my eyes.
My father glanced at us, looking choked before he fisted his hands. Instead of answering her, he pulled out his pocket watch and peered at it. “It’s time to leave,” he called out. “Isaac, see the girls to their carriage.” He turned back to his conversation with Simmons before the two of them stormed outside, leaving the front door open in their wake
.
Lord Dalry approached, studying me as keenly as his mother had, his expression giving away only what he chose, which was nothing.
“Take care of her, Son.” Lady Dalry gave him a worried look, stepping back. “The situation is more fragile than I realized.”
“I agree.” He kissed her cheek. “I’ll proceed with utmost care. Are you ready, Miss Pierson?”
My throat clogged with tears as I uncharacteristically grabbed Lady Dalry’s hand, then leaned over and whispered, “Do you . . . do you ever come to London?”
The tenderness in her expression pierced my heart as she tipped forward and kissed my cheek. “No, child, but when sessions are over, you must come and spend hours and hours with me.”
I nodded, disliking that I was now acting as forward as Kate. Yet Lord Dalry beamed with approval as he offered his arm. Though I had extended my friendship to Lady Dalry, I still hadn’t accepted her children’s. I have no doubt my face became petulant, for Mrs. Coleman huffed with disapproval as I unwillingly took his arm.
Wind-driven rain stabbed my cheeks as we hurried to the carriage. James opened the door, looking strange without his powdered wig. Brown hair caked his forehead. To my relief, his thick greatcoat and hat heralded that he would accompany us.
I glanced over my shoulder at Eaton to determine whether he would attend as well. His pale fingers, however, gripped nothing more than a lightweight cape thrown over his shoulders as he listened to Simmons’s instructions. I felt overwhelmed at the thought that I would have a new butler and housekeeper.
“Who’s the footman for this carriage?” Lord Dalry raised his voice to be heard over the hard slap of rain.
James grinned and drew the collar of his cloak about his face. “I am, sir.”
“Good.” Lord Dalry offered his hand so I could climb up to the open barouche door. “It will be dark by the time we reach London. Keep your wits about you. No one approaches this carriage. Is that understood?”
Mark of Distinction Page 8
