by Regina Scott
“I feel almost foolish having him move the things back so soon. I suppose there’s no harm in Priscilla and me staying in the east wing for a day or two.”
David managed a tight-lipped smile. The last thing he needed was them next door. He didn’t want the secret passage to be discovered, and he certainly didn’t want a repeat of last night. “I wager your niece would rather be near her friends, seeing as we still have six days left in their visit. I’m sure Asheram won’t mind having to move things twice in one day. It’s amazing how quickly he accomplishes things.”
She did not return his smile. “As you like, my lord. He is your servant.”
“He is my friend,” David reminded her.
The girls looked puzzled, but her ladyship continued undaunted. “In any case, we should probably inspect the kitchens to make sure no one else becomes ill. I shall instruct Mrs. Abbot to throw out anything that was left over, just to be on the safe side.”
“Wise precautions,” David agreed. “I’m sure we’d all like to know this incident won’t be repeated.”
Lady Brentfield smiled sweetly at last. “Yes, I’m certain you’d like to think so, my lord.”
Somehow, that did not make David feel any more comfortable that the issue was resolved.
Chapter Nine
It had indeed been a long night for Hannah. She had requested that Asheram have a cot erected in the room so that she might sleep near Ariadne. Her charge had taken a draught of laudanum and was sleeping quietly. Hannah had put on her comfortable blue flannel nightgown with its high neck and long sleeves and had dismissed the maid when Lady Brentfield opened the door and entered.
“Good evening, Miss Alexander,” she said, closing the door behind her. “I just wanted to make sure you had everything you needed.” She glanced at the bed, where poor Ariadne was drooling on her pillow, then hastily looked away.
“I’m fine, thank you, your ladyship,” Hannah replied with a quick curtsey, touched by her hostess’s kindness. “And Miss Courdebas, as you can see, is sleeping soundly.”
“How thoughtful of you to stay with her,” she murmured, eyeing the cot as if she could not imagine using it. “I’m sure if my niece were ill away from home, I’d want someone to care for her as diligently as you are.”
“You are too kind,” Hannah replied, blushing.
“Not at all,” she assured her. “However, I realize things look different from your perspective, my dear. While I am certainly not old enough to be your mother, I believe I have seen more of the world than you have. So, while you are at Brentfield, I hope you know you can come to me with your problems, just as the girls come to you.”
She would never feel so comfortable! Hannah kept her eyes respectfully downcast. “Thank you, Lady Brentfield, but I have no problems.”
“Oh, but you do,” Lady Brentfield said, and the sneer in her voice was unmistakable.
Hannah’s head came up, but the countess was smiling at her kindly.
“Your situation troubles me, my dear,” she said, tone once more conciliatory. “You know I held hopes that his lordship and my Priscilla . . . well, that simply wasn’t to be. Fate stepped in. He is obviously smitten with you.”
Hannah shook her head, unwilling to share David’s feelings until he declared them himself.
Lady Brentfield held up a hand as if to forestall denial. “Oh, but he is. I’ve had my share of admirers, Miss Alexander. I recognize the signs. He is in love. And you, if I am not mistaken, are equally enthralled.”
She would not admit it to this woman before she admitted it to David. Hannah dropped her gaze once more. “I realize the earl is dashing,” Lady Brentfield commiserated. “A more charming man you could not find. But surely you see the danger in this infatuation. You must go carefully, or you will lose all you hold dear.”
Cold washed over her, and Hannah glanced up. “What do you mean?”
Lady Brentfield’s eyes narrowed. “Precisely this: you cannot paint and be his lover. If you marry him, you will have your hands full running this household. He certainly doesn’t know how to do it, and Haversham is getting old. The burden will fall on you, my dear.”
Hannah could see the logic, but still her heart struggled. As if Lady Brentfield knew it, she pressed on. “Believe me, I have seen it happen all too often. You’ll have to manage the servants here, pay the bills, and see to the tenants’ well-being. And the entertaining.” She paused to cluck as Hannah felt ever more colder. “Brentfield is known for its lavish parties. You’ll have dozens of visitors at Christmas, during the summer, and throughout the hunting season. You’ll have to keep them housed, fed, and entertained. And they are much more demanding than your current charges. Why even I tremble at the prospect. I don’t see how you could ever find time to paint.”
It sounded daunting and entirely beyond her skill. Hannah swallowed, but Lady Brentfield wasn’t finished.
“If you do find time to paint,” she said, “you will never be accepted as a serious artist. You will simply be an oddity, your works tossed as soon as the notoriety of a countess craftswoman fades. Do not expect to see any of your things hung in a gallery or prized for a collection. It would be a shocking waste of your talents, my dear. If you were not so sure of your duty to these girls, I would advise you to leave now, before you are tempted.”
No doubt that was wise advice. The problem was, she was already tempted, already falling. She could not leave now until she knew what might be.
“Lady Brentfield,” she managed, “I appreciate your advice, but I must do as I see fit.”
Hannah thought the countess might argue further and steeled herself, but Lady Brentfield merely nodded and turned away. “Of course you must, my dear. I leave the decision to your sense of loyalty to your craft. I know you’ll make the right choice. A talent such as yours would be a sin to waste.”
She had left the room, but her words seemed to linger behind. They served to confirm what Hannah had been fearing all along. She must choose.
If it had only been a choice between her painting and the love of a wonderful man, she would have had no difficulty making her decision. Much as she loved her painting, she had no doubts that she would love David more. But what she feared was the choice was between her happiness and David’s.
He needed an aristocratic wife. That was clear to her, even if he had yet to fully realize it. He would find it hard to make his mark in English Society if all his peers perceived him as the rustic American Lady Brentfield did. Having a wife who was a penniless nobody would not help. If she married him, he might be shunned completely. She did not think that would help their marriage.
She could also not imagine living the life Lady Brentfield described. Managing servants? Entertaining all summer? Hunting? She had neither the interest nor the experience to do any of those things. She knew Lady Prestwick had been a countess and avoided such roles. Of course, Lady Prestwick was also viewed as a decided oddity. Would David be happy if Hannah wanted a quieter life?
Then of course there was the line of succession. She had never really understood children. There were times when she could not remember being one. She supposed she must have been a quiet, dreamy-eyed child, not nearly as dark in outlook as Lady Emily. Teaching at the Barnsley School had only confirmed her fears about her antipathy for young people. She had thought herself quite content in not having any of her own.
But surely David must have children. He had come all the way from America, at great sacrifice to his own hopes and dreams, to salvage this estate. He was the last of the Tenants. He had to have sons if the line was to continue. She was not sure she could give him those sons.
There was only one answer that she could see, and it broke her heart to realize it. If David asked her to marry him, she would have to refuse him, for his own good.
She hardly slept that night, what with checking on Ariadne and thinking about what would happen if David proposed. She had just finished helping Ariadne to some broth (to which the girl strenu
ously protested), when the maid Clare came to tell her that Lady Brentfield wanted her. Leaving Clare to care for Ariadne, Hannah went to the lady’s sitting room down the corridor.
“My poor dear,” Lady Brentfield said as soon as Hannah entered the delicately decorated room. “It looks as if you haven’t slept in days.”
Was she as haggard as all that? Hannah resisted the urge to look at herself in the gilt-framed mirror over the white marble hearth. “I’m fine, your ladyship. How might I assist you?”
Lady Brentfield rose from her velvet-draped dressing table. “I’m certain the other girls will be restive today. I’ve arranged for a sitting room overlooking the east garden to be used for painting. There is paper and watercolors left over from a previous house party. I’m sure you can find good use for them.”
Painting right now sounded like just the thing to calm her nerves. She seized on the idea and set about helping the others to the work. Unfortunately, none of the girls, including Lady Emily, looked the least bit pleased. And Lady Brentfield seemed determined to keep them so occupied, for she kept flitting from the easels set up by the wide windows to the door. What was she waiting for? Did she expect David to come find them? Hannah had checked with Clare earlier and been told that the earl was working on estate business in the library. It seemed even David could only duck his duty for so long.
“There, now, see what you’ve done!”
Hannah turned from her own work to find Priscilla spreading her muslin skirts, where a tell-tale pink stain was spreading. Equally pink were Daphne’s cheeks.
“I’m terribly sorry, Priscilla,” she said, reaching out a hand striped in pink and blue as if to wipe away her work.
Priscilla took a step back. “Do not touch me! Honestly, you are a disaster!”
Hannah set down her brush. “I think perhaps we’re finished here for the moment. I know Ariadne would love some company. Why don’t we go visit her?”
The girls set aside their work eagerly and headed for the doorway. Hannah thought surely Lady Brentfield would demur, but the countess followed them upstairs. Did she think Hannah and David had planned an assignation and she must intervene? Or was she truly trying to play the good hostess?
That thought did not survive the next quarter hour. As the girls chatted about school, their plans for the Season, the prospect of being courted, Lady Brentfield grew ever more restive. Her comments became cutting, her glances scathing. If she was so very put out by the girls, why not leave them to their visit with Ariadne? It wasn’t as if she had the duty to play chaperone here.
As the conversation began to falter, the girls fidgeting, Hannah wracked her brain for some other divertissement. Anything active and out of doors left out Ariadne, while anything indoors seemed to be boring her friends. Finally, Hannah suggested reading aloud.
“Oh, Miss Alexander, I’m tired of the Good Book,” Ariadne immediately complained, round face scrunching. “Can’t we read something more challenging, more intriguing?”
“Lord Byron,” Priscilla said, smile appearing and gaze turning misty. “He’s so romantic.”
“No, Mrs. Radcliffe,” Daphne insisted. “Her novels are so exciting!”
“I’d rather read Hannah Moore’s work,” Lady Emily maintained. “I like a heroine who suffers.”
Hannah smiled, relieved to have found something of interest. “I expect you have quite a number of choices at Brentfield. Based on the other treasures we’ve seen, Lord Brentfield must have a wonderful library.”
“It’s tremendous,” Priscilla bragged. “The shelves are eight feet tall and positively crammed with every book you could imagine.” She glanced around at them all, then hastily added, “Not that I have time to read while I’m here, you understand. I’ll never be taken for a bluestocking.”
Ariadne, who had some claim to that distinction, paled.
Lady Brentfield positively glowed. “His lordship is in the library right now,” she put in sweetly. “I’m sure he wouldn’t mind selecting a book for you. You might try that case near his desk. I believe that’s where he keeps his personal favorites.”
The girls were on their feet immediately. Hannah rose more slowly. She wasn’t sure she was ready to see David again, not after her decision last night. Still, she could not protest as she followed the girls out the door and down the corridor and the stairs for the library on the ground floor.
Her resolve, though painful, had been easy to keep as long as she did not lay eyes on him. However, she found her heart beating faster as she approached the library with the girls.
“Perhaps we shouldn’t interrupt him,” she suggested, feeling craven, as Priscilla reached for the door handle.
“The countess suggested it,” Priscilla replied, never faltering for a moment. Hannah felt a twinge of annoyance that Lady Brentfield’s suggestions should take precedence over David’s activities, but she kept her mouth shut as the girl opened the door and they all peered inside.
Like everything else in Brentfield, the library was immense. It was long and narrow, with an oak-framed fireplace opposite the door. Except for the fireplace and north-facing wall, which held two slender windows, every space was filled from floor to ceiling with glass-fronted oak bookcases. Additional rotating book tables dotted the room. To the right of the door, surrounded on three sides by bookcases, a walnut desk crouched on clawed feet, its top littered with papers and additional books, most of which lay open. Behind the desk, unbending from his perusal of those books, sat David.
He looked up and grinned at them, obviously glad for the interruption. As usual, his smile of welcome warmed as it reached Hannah, and she found herself blushing again.
“We have come for a book to read to Ariadne,” Priscilla announced. “You’re to pick one out for us.”
Hannah frowned at the girl’s presumption. “What Miss Tate means is that we were hoping you might make a recommendation.”
Daphne gazed about her in wonder. “Please do. I wouldn’t know where to start.”
“Do you have any sermons?” Lady Emily wanted to know.
David stood and offered them a bow. “It would be my pleasure to pick a book for you. Some of my personal favorites are in this case, in front of the desk where I can reach them when the estate business gets too boring,” he paused to wink at them, “which it often does. There’s even a Washington Irving I brought with me from America, The Legend of Sleepy Hollow. But it’s not for the faint of heart.”
“Sounds delightful,” Lady Emily declared. “Fetch it for us, Daphne. You’re the athletic one.”
Daphne made a face, but David pointed to a shelf, and she moved to comply. Hannah looked away from the girl to find herself facing David, who had left the desk to join her.
“How goes it?” he asked her quietly. “I heard you were painting. Is class over so soon? I wanted to come watch.”
Thankful for something to discuss, Hannah started to explain the girls’ lack of interest. Then a movement caught her eye. Daphne had swung open the glass doors and was tugging at a book. What struck Hannah with horror was that the bookcase was leaning farther forward with each tug. David must have seen her look of fear, for he whirled, just as the oak mammoth began to topple. Hannah’s body seemed to freeze as it veered toward her, but David shoved her out of the way. Then it was her heart that froze, as he raced forward to push Daphne to safety as well.
Priscilla screamed as the case came down. Glass shattered, sending shards in all directions. Books thudded to the floor. The oak frame hit the desk with a crash that sent a ripple through the wood at their feet. Hannah stumbled, clutching the case next to her for support. Lady Emily crouched as if ready for more to fall, and Priscilla collapsed into an armchair. Plaster from the exposed wall rained down, filling the air with grit.
“David!” The cry burst unbidden from Hannah’s lips. Her next breath filled her mouth with dust. She coughed, batting away the cloud to clear her vision. “David! Are you all right?”
He rose from th
e far side of the case, powdered a ghostly white by the plaster and rubbing his left elbow. “It’s all right. I’m fine.”
Hannah choked back a sob of relief as he made his way to her side. She hugged him to her. Some part of her brain informed her that this was not the proper reaction for a disinterested art teacher, but she refused to listen. “Thank God,” she murmured against his dusty chest.
He stroked her hair. “I’m all right, Hannah. Don’t be frightened.” She felt him glance up and heard him raise his voice. “Is everyone else all right?”
Hannah collected herself with difficulty and raised her head, although she kept her arms firmly about him. Priscilla nodded in response to his question, wide-eyed. Lady Emily stared at the wreckage in fascination and Hannah, recognizing the look, knew she would shortly be seeing a painting to commemorate the event.
Daphne spoke up from her place of safety on the other side of the fallen bookcase. “You saved my life, Lord Brentfield! That was amazing!”
“We Americans have a word for it,” David said with a grin. “Smashing.” Hannah felt a nervous laugh bubble up at the absurd pun.
“Hardly the time for levity,” Asheram replied in the doorway. “Is anyone hurt?”
“We seem to be fine,” David assured him. He glanced down at her, and Hannah stared up at him, her body trembling. She knew she should move away, but she couldn’t seem to release him. As Asheram picked his way through the rubble, David bent his head to hers.
“Much as I love holding you, sweetheart, you really have to let go. You should get out of here in case something else comes down.”
Hannah swallowed, making herself lower her arms and step back. David chucked her under the chin and winked at her, forcing an answering smile from her. She willed her heart beat to return to normal as he turned to motion Mr. Asheram to help her over the debris.
Lady Brentfield was waiting in the corridor as Hannah and Lady Emily were handed out. Other servants hurried from the kitchens.
“I heard the commotion from upstairs,” her ladyship explained. “What’s happened? Was anyone hurt?”
