“You’ll want to hand that over to me, sir.” Hendricks redoubled his efforts, perhaps because of the ladies’ unexpected presence. He placed one knee onto the bed while his other foot remained planted on the floor. He gripped Mr. Cavanaugh’s arm, wielding the breakable object before he could send it hurtling through the air.
“Confound it, man. Let me silence them—”
“Mr. Cavanaugh!” Mrs. Sutton voiced in a clear, authoritative manner. “I beg you desist at once!”
“What?” The blurry-eyed Mr. Cavanaugh turned toward the ladies and blinked.
“I am fully aware you do not take to country hours well.” Mrs. Sutton continued as if it were a well-known fact. “That is no excuse to shake the house with your early-morning objection to the wildlife which, you must own, is out of our control.”
“It is so—blasted early.”
Penny looked away and drew a breath in exasperation. Why did men always think it necessary to use such strong language?
“You have behaved in this manner each time you visit. I hope you do not expect your wife to endure such a shameful display?”
Shameful? It was, despite the fact that Penny was married, or not, to him. “We should leave,” Penny urged Mrs. Sutton. “We must allow Mr. Hendricks to attend to his duty.”
“Very well.” Mrs. Sutton’s temper cooled, and she was the first to exit the bedchamber.
Penny pulled the door closed. The resounding click of the latch lent an air of finality that the ladies had indeed left that bizarre scene behind.
“That was so very peculiar,” she whispered, unable to remain silent. Penny had never heard of anyone reacting with such hostility to morning birdsong. Then, as if realizing what she had said, she added, “We have lived in Town all these years—” during our marriage had been left unsaid. “I had no idea Mr. Cavanaugh had such a violent reaction to the country.”
“I’ve never heard anyone behave in that manner.” Mrs. Sutton punctuated her statement with a harrumph and stepped forward, making her way to the staircase. Penny followed her down to the ground floor, where the companion stopped short after spotting an envelope, with its seal broken, on the foyer table.
“I nearly forgot—” She took up the missive and held it out. “It was the reason I had gone to seek you out earlier.”
Penny accepted the letter, barely held it open, and did not even have time to identify its author before Mrs. Sutton began to discuss the contents.
“Dr. Harding writes that he plans to pay a visit this afternoon. He wishes to see Madam for himself.”
“I see.” Penny did not bother to read his words. “That is good news, is it not?” She watched the companion’s expression, wondering if there was cause to worry about the elderly patient.
“Well, I cannot say.” Mrs. Sutton clasped her hands together and proceeded to wring them. “His sisters must have informed him about Madam’s recovery.” Her hands stilled, and she faced Penny. “She has had the most amazing improvement, wouldn’t you say?”
How could Penny answer? She had only met the woman yesterday. It had seemed to her the patient was nowhere near her deathbed.
“It appears that Dr. Harding wishes to see her and make his own judgment.”
As well he should. David needed to be told. Penny glanced at the staircase, wondering if she should expect to see him descend anytime soon. How long did it take him to dress in the morning? She had never considered him a dandy, but then again she had never given it much thought.
“I expect he will be in the breakfast room soon enough.” Penny motioned for Mrs. Sutton to lead the way. “We can wait for him there.”
“Of course you are right.” The hand-wringing stopped. Mrs. Sutton, followed by Penny, moved down the corridor toward the breakfast room. They entered just in time to see the first of the serving dishes being removed. “Where are you going with those?”
“Mrs. Shore done told us to clean up the breakfast dishes,” the kitchen maid explained. “The Mister ain’t comin’ down this mornin’.”
“Mr. Cavanaugh has left without—” David’s behavior was baffling. What did he mean by skipping his breakfast?
“He did not pass us. We stood in the foyer. I’m certain we would have seen him.” Mrs. Sutton exchanged puzzled glances with Penny.
“Came runnin’ down the back stairs, gave us an awful fright.” The maid readjusted her hold on the serving plate. “Lookin’ for Cook, he was.”
“I don’t understand. Where is he now?” Mrs. Sutton appeared ready to head to the kitchen herself to discover the truth.
“He’s gone off with the children, Mrs. Sutton,” the maid replied. “That’s wot Cook says.”
“They’ve left already?” Penny remembered and knew exactly where he intended to lead the children. She hadn’t expected they would depart this early in the day.
“Gave them sum pails, Cook did.” The maid motioned over her shoulder with her head. “They mean to gather berries.”
“You mean to say they’ll be scrabbling about the ground, in the dirt, and rummaging through the brambles?” Mrs. Sutton blustered at the absurdity of this news.
“That is the only way to get ’em, you know,” the maid replied and nodded her head as if conveying her sincerity. “Young’uns usually go for that sort of thing.”
“I remember when Master David and his brothers used to forage for berries when they were young,” Mrs. Sutton reminisced. “They’d return with barely a half cup among them.”
“Best send word to Cook to bake some fruit tarts. Children are always hungry when they come back. They always are,” the maid said with a smile and left to relay the orders for the kitchen.
“There is a time and a place for everything. How could they leave when Madam is upstairs on her deathbed?” Mrs. Sutton turned to leave. “Master David knows how bad off his grandmother has been. He might miss Dr. Harding’s visit altogether.”
As far as Penny understood, Mrs. Cavanaugh’s improved condition did not qualify her for being on her deathbed any longer. Nor was David informed of the impending visit before leaving. What Mrs. Sutton did not know was that if he had not escorted the children on this outing, he might have had a small rebellion on his hands.
“A waste of time is what I say.” Mrs. Sutton let loose her last thoughts on the matter before stepping out into the corridor.
Despite the companion’s opinion regarding foraging for berries, Penny knew Lucy and young Davy were quite looking forward to it.
This was not how David remembered his childhood at all.
“How much longer, Da?” Lucy still managed to deliver the question very prettily and politely even though it had been the fiftieth time, no, the sixtieth time.
As David recalled, it only took fifteen to twenty minutes, thirty at the most, to travel from the house to the riverside where the wild berries grew.
“Are we there yet?” young Davy moaned while dragging his feet.
“Soon, Davy. Very soon,” David hoped. It seemed as if they’d been walking for hours.
Along the entire route, young Davy alternated between dragging his feet, moving at a snail’s pace, to running from spot to spot, making one marvelous discovery after another. The previous marvel, which had him completely absorbed, had been a small brown lizard that finally skittered away when it saw some gigantic creature observing it.
The boy had never seen a reptile before. Only then had David understood exactly what this expedition meant to his wards. They had lived in Town all their lives, never romped about in a meadow, chased a rabbit, climbed to the highest peak one could see, or collected wildflowers.
It was of no import. He would allow them to tarry. As much as they complained, Lucy and Davy were enjoying themselves.
“Come on then.” He wanted them to take their time, but David had not expected their journey to occupy the majo
rity of their day. Of course the children did not realize their constant distractions were the very thing that kept them from reaching their destination.
Oh, the ignorance of youth!
Despite David’s misgivings regarding the short journey, it actually had taken hours before they finally arrived. He had divested himself of his frock coat and rolled up his sleeves in anticipation of the physical nature of the task ahead. Both children had had a grand time tugging on various portions of his garment, aiding in its ultimate removal.
Little Davy was on his knees, his backside and the soles of his shoes poking out from a low shrub. “Is this a berry, Da?” he called out from under a bush.
“Let’s have a look.” David laid his neatly folded coat carefully over a stout tree limb. He ran his hand down his blue diamond-patterned waistcoat.
Davy sat upright, planting himself firmly in the dirt. He had something in the center of one palm, and he prodded at it with one chubby finger.
“No, that’s a beetle. Best put him back where you found him.” David remembered picking the berries as being a very simple, and very enjoyable, activity. There were no bugs, insects, or creatures of any kind involved.
“I think these are berries, Da, but they’re still mostly green.” Lucy held the handle of her pail tight and foraged farther down the path. “I’ll keep looking.”
“This is a berry, Da!” Once again Davy was down on his hands and knees, peering into the shrubbery.
The only way to make certain would be for David to see for himself. If the boy needed to be on the ground, no doubt David would need to be as well.
He knelt, if somewhat gingerly, knowing there would be some sort of damage to the knees of his buckskins, not to mention ruining the shine upon the toes and calves of his top boots. He decided it was best not to look and took a deep breath before kneeling on the ground and making his way next to the lad.
Crawling on all fours, David moved next to Davy. “Where is it, you say?”
“There! It’s right there.” The lad pointed into the dimly lit interior of the shrub, his head lowered to peer at it properly.
“It should be fairly obvious, I think. Once I can see it,” David mumbled, mostly to himself. The ripe ones were dark in color, red perhaps, was his recollection. The earth never seemed so hard, and finding the ripe ones never seemed so difficult.
“It’s right there, Da. Right there.”
“I shall attempt to reach it.” David stretched his arm, trying to find something that resembled the feel of a berry: something small and round. He wasn’t having much luck. Ow. Something scratched his cheek, just under his eye.
“There can’t be any ripe ones, there’s no sunlight. And berries cannot grow without sunlight,” an unfamiliar, youthful voice intoned from above him.
David removed his arm and sat upon one hip. He squinted at the know-it-all.
A Miss Know-It-All, to be precise, not much older than Lucy, if he were to guess. She stood there all blond ringlets poking out of a straw bonnet, arms akimbo, looking down her nose at him.
Was she telling him they had gone through all that bother for nothing?
Davy had found a second, slightly smaller version of Miss Know-It-All, and stood toe-to-toe with her.
“What’s your name?” the smaller one asked, staring wide-eyed at him. “I’m Sylvie.”
Davy stood mute. He behaved as if he had never seen anyone who stood in equal small stature as he before.
“That’s not how you speak to someone whom you don’t know, Sylvie. You shouldn’t even speak to him at all until you’ve been properly introduced,” Miss-Know-It-All told her smaller twin. “That’s not the way it’s done.”
“I agree that one must behave with all due propriety, but who is to make the introductions if we are all unknown to one another?” David directed this at the elder sister.
“Well . . . I think . . . Maybe we should—” The etiquette question had stumped her. David had to admit she looked to be the picture of perfection in a miniature pelisse.
“Have no fear, Clemmy,” a young lady, one who truly had to be in charge, interjected. She was also dressed very fine and addressed him very prettily. “Mr. Cavanaugh is known to me, and I can make the proper introductions.”
The woman knew him? David scrambled to his feet, knocking the dust from his buckskins. “I beg your pardon, ma’am.” He studied her and tried to find something familiar about her. Surely he could not forget such a lovely creature as this.
“It has been several years, I believe,” she continued. By his response to her, she offered, “I am quite certain I have not altered all that much.”
David did not know many people from this area. Not of her age, and if it had been some years since he’d seen her, she could not even be close to twenty. Who could she be . . . “You cannot be Miss . . . Lemmon?”
“Yes.” She nodded.
“You must be fifteen, perhaps sixteen by now?” It had been quite a few years since he’d seen her.
“I’ve just turned eighteen.” Miss Lemmon smiled in a shy manner and cast her gaze down, averting eye contact. “I am to be presented next Season.”
“I wish you much success. I’m certain you will make a splash.” From David’s experience, she would indeed. She had much to learn when it came to single men, eligible single men. A young female could not color up and giggle at every encounter with the opposite sex. A little Town bronze would make this country flower into a most lovely parlor rose.
“Who are these other lovely young ladies with you, may I ask?” He’d noticed some staff had accompanied her: a nanny, by her dress, and another, quite possibly her lady’s maid. One of Miss Lemmon’s ilk would not be traipsing about the countryside without some type of chaperone-like figure, for propriety’s sake.
“Oh!” It was as if Miss Lemmon had momentarily forgotten her charges. “These are my nieces, Clemmy and Sylvie.”
Clemmy made a very nice curtsy. Sylvie, who still faced Davy, did not move, and continued to stare at him.
“Girls, this is our neighbor, Mr. Cavanaugh. He resides at the Willows.”
“Wiww-whoas!” Davy repeated.
“The Willows!” Sylvie mimicked then giggled, which made Davy laugh. Their laughter broke the formality of the gathering.
“How do you do, sir?” Clemmy recited very properly.
“I am fine, thank you.” David swatted at a bug flying close to his face and hit his sleeve, which raised a cloud of dust. He coughed. The girls laughed.
“And who are your companions?” Miss Lemmon prompted, “Your . . .”
My . . . the children, of course! “Yes, indeed! Ah . . . this is Lucy.” David wrapped his arm around her shoulders, proudly claiming her, and gestured to the boy. “The lad is Davy.”
“They are quite a handsome pair.” Miss Lemmon acknowledged the children with a nod.
“Yes, they are.” He smiled with genuine pride.
“Oh, sir.” Miss Lemmon gestured to his face. “You’re bleeding.”
David touched his cheek, and his finger came away tinged with blood. “I’ll be fine.”
“Please, you will allow me to tend to it?” She had already moved to do so. “Mrs. Wilson!” Miss Lemmon called out. “Ask James to bring the small hamper out, if you please?”
A maid, a nanny, and a footman? Exactly how many persons were in their expedition?
David did not wish to submit, but he really had no desire to return to the ground and hunt berries by himself. Glancing at the children, he noticed that Davy and Sylvie had resumed staring at each other, and Lucy was deep in conversation with Clemmy.
“If you insist,” he acceded, mostly for his own selfish reasons. Who was he to turn down an attractive young lady’s attention?
“We’re not looking for berries,” Clemmy told Lucy. “We’re out to have a picnic
.”
“Picnic?” Lucy brightened. “That sounds delightful!”
Picnic . . . David had not thought as far ahead as to supplying food provisions for their party.
Miss Lemmon instructed the footmen, yes, there were two as it turned out, to set up the picnic in the clearing where the sunlight, what there was of it, could warm the occupants. “I’ll have two stools placed here, please, and the small hamper—here.” She held her hand out where she wished the items to be placed.
The small furniture appeared, as did the small hamper on a folding table.
“Sit, please, Mr. Cavanaugh, and do allow me to tend to your injury.” She seated herself next to the small basket and unfastened its lid.
David glanced at the children playing some sort of follow-the-leader game with Clemmy leading the way under the watchful eye of the nanny.
He sat to Miss Lemmon’s left with his injured side toward her.
“I see your shirtsleeve will also need to be mended.” She pointed out the small tears he’d acquired while rummaging through the shrubbery.
Hendricks would certainly not be happy about the state of David’s shirt.
“First allow me to wipe your face, if I may?” She employed the folded bit of linen in a fashion that told David she had some experience with injuries of this nature.
“Is my face . . .” It was futile to attempt to check the condition of his visage without a mirror.
“There’s a bit of dirt, just there, and there.” She indicated the areas that needed attention. “But I do not want to chance it getting into your wound.”
“By all means, proceed.” David laid the matter of his care completely into her hands.
She opened several bottles, and with a quick whiff, determined the correct concoction. After pouring a small amount onto a clean, folded, white cloth, she brought it to his face.
His uncertainty prompted her explanation. “It is merely boiled water with lime juice, very refreshing, and it will clean your face quite satisfactorily.”
“I expect it has been successfully used on the children.” He allowed her to blot the right side of his face with the saturated cloth, concentrating on those places she had indicated were soiled.
An Elaborate Hoax (A Gentlemen of Worth Book 5) Page 8
