A Forgiving Heart

by Kasey Stockton

  Mr. Sims looked contemplative before nodding slowly, rubbing the stubble on his chin. “I think I could find a gal or two.”

  “That would be most appreciated, Mr. Sims. My housekeeper will be holding interviews tomorrow at noon, if you would spread the word.”

  He left them in peace to eat their meal, and Kate shot Alice a wry glance. “Have you considered that we might have been better off remaining at Lytle’s?”

  “Not for one moment,” Alice replied, her voice firm.

  Sighing, Kate finished eating before rising, and linking her arm through Alice’s. “If only Emily were here already, she would probably know a better way to go about doing all of this.”

  They made it outside, and Alice leaned in, lowering her voice. “I thought you did just fine in there, Miss Kingston.”

  “Thank you. I was rather nervous. Mr. Sims is quite large.”

  “That he was, but you sent that smile his way, and he didn’t know what to do with himself, now did he?” Alice laughed as they crossed the street. Kate couldn’t help but chuckle, even though she knew her friend was embellishing for the sake of her nerves.

  Regardless, she felt strong and capable for all she had so far accomplished. Food would be arriving at Split Tree in a matter of hours, she now had horses to convey her where she needed to go, and help would soon be on its way. Not to mention Emily, of course. Things were certainly looking up.

  They loaded into the carriage, and Kate let out a soft sigh of contentment as it began to move forward. “Is this the adventure you had in mind when you chose to leave Lytle’s?” she asked Alice.

  “Can’t say what I had in mind, exactly. But this is turning out to be quite an adventure, isn’t it?”

  “I’d say.”

  They fell into silence when they reached the outskirts of town. Green, rolling hills passed by the window, broken by the occasional cottage or veering lane.

  A loud shout broke through the quiet tedium of wheels on a packed dirt road. A muffled, angry tone came from behind the carriage. If only this vehicle were equipped with a window in the back like the one Kate had rented to travel from Lytle’s, she would be able to understand what the yelling was for.

  But as the shouting ensued, volleying between the stranger and the coachman, Kate was no closer to deciphering what was being said and grew increasingly uneasy.

  “Highwaymen!” Alice exclaimed. Her face lost all of its color and she clutched Kate’s arm with a force that betrayed her hours spent kneading dough.

  “We aren’t on a highway,” Kate said crossly, and she pulled Alice’s hands from her arm, sure that finger marks would present themselves under her sleeve. The carriage rolled to a stop and an angry man yelled to the coachman, who said something else before the door swung open with angry force, causing Alice to scream as it hit the side of the carriage.

  A man appeared in the opening, thunder written on his face. Alice’s screams rent the air as the stranger’s face shifted to shock, took stock of the interior, and then looked back to the coachman in utter confusion. His cravat was untidy and waistcoat askew, but the cut of his coat was exquisitely sculpted to his tall, broad torso.

  “Alice, calm down,” Kate tried to yell over Alice’s frantic screams. “Calm down!” She was tempted to slap some sense into the cook but grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her instead. “He is a gentleman!”

  This seemed to halt both the man outside and the maid inside, and everyone looked at Kate. She straightened herself as best she could and directed her stony gaze to the beast of a man holding the carriage door open. “What can I do for you, sir?”

  “I apologize, ma’am,” he said, his voice low and sincere. “I believed I was stopping someone else’s carriage.”

  Kate held his gaze while she catalogued his features. He possessed a square jaw and height that required him to stoop to speak into the carriage. His hair was golden brown and hung longer than fashionable, falling over his ears in disarray, and his shoulders were broad enough to block light from the doorway, making it impossible to tell if his eyes were blue or gray. He was, in short, a monster of a man, and it was apparent that he was attempting to rein in some sort of temper as well, if his flaring nostrils and heaving chest were any clue.

  Kate held his gaze. “Do you often flag down coaches like an errant highwayman?”

  One corner of his mouth ticked up as if he was trying—and failing—not to smile. His gaze flicked away before looking back at Kate, and she was arrested by the sudden weary nature of his demeanor. “Please, forgive the intrusion.”

  Kate nodded once. She watched the stranger glance at Alice before nodding to her as well and closing the door with a soft click. Hoofbeats soon pounded past the carriage at a fast clip, and then they were on their way once more.

  “Perhaps we shan’t talk of adventure anymore,” Kate said wryly, still recovering from the shock. He’d clearly mistaken them for someone else, but why?

  Alice gave a watery giggle. “Or we should talk of it more often if that’s the sort of adventure we’re going to be getting.”

  9

  Martin

  “Martin!”

  Martin heard the roar of his name as his brother entered the house, followed by a slam of the front door that could wake the dead. He sighed before pushing himself to his feet and walking around to lean on the front of the desk. There was nothing Peter despised more than seeing Martin completely at ease when he was furious himself.

  Perhaps it was an old habit he had yet to rid himself of but getting under Peter’s skin was one of his greatest pleasures.

  He listened as the boot heels made their way across the entryway and down the corridor. Homer must have directed Peter to the study for him to come here straight away. Martin crossed his arms over his chest and propped one foot back against the desk, doing his best to look serene.

  The door flew open and Peter crashed in much like an angry bull, headed straight for Martin. If it wasn’t for years of practice in schooling his features, he would be cowering like a puppy, but he had learned long ago that that only gave the bull what he wanted.

  “Martin!” Peter roared again. “What have you done with my carriage?”

  “Your carriage?” Martin asked innocently. He watched a muscle tick angrily in Peter’s jaw and glee circled in the pit of his stomach. “I lent it to a neighbor.”

  This seemed to take the wind out of Peter’s sails a tad. His breathing remained heavy, but he lowered his voice to a reasonable volume. “Why?”

  “She needed one. We have many. It made sense.” He didn’t need to tell Peter that he’d also given two of his horses away. Not yet, at least. The bewilderment on his brother’s face was too good to ruin now.

  “What neighbor?”

  “Your precious carriage will be restored tomorrow, Peter. Why are you so angry about it?” Martin asked. The man didn’t typically blow up over such minor things.

  Peter grunted and dropped himself into a tall wingback chair, rubbing his temples. The exertion must have taken whatever strength he had left. Martin tried a different tactic. “Should you be resting?”

  This elicited a cold glare from Peter that had Martin wanting to shrink back. But he held his ground.

  Peter stood suddenly and turned for the door, causing Martin to flinch. He was only too grateful his brother was unable to see it. They were at an impasse. Peter was angry about the missing carriage, but Martin had stumped him—the man wouldn’t begrudge helping out their neighbors. So now all that was left was for them to part ways so that his beast of a brother could cool off to a reasonable man again. If that was even possible.

  “I should let you know,” Martin said, as if an afterthought, to Peter’s retreating back, “the Smithsons will be joining us for dinner.”

  Peter grunted.

  Martin waited for the door to close again before he went back around the desk and sat in the oversized king’s chair. He pulled a ledger out of the top drawer of the monstrous desk and be
gan flipping through the pages. He always felt so dwarfed at this desk, as if it was designed to give a man power but merely sapped him of it instead.

  He found the tenant he was looking for and made the appropriate marks before putting the book away and leaving the room.

  Seeing Miss Kingston today had been something of a shock at first, but then again, he wasn’t lying when he’d told her that he had been dreaming of her these last ten years. Nonetheless, the prospect of seeing his childhood savior once he’d learned of her impending arrival hadn’t prepared him for the lovely vision she had grown into. Her elegant, lithe figure was no less exquisite for the dowdy gown which had encased it, and everything about her was neat and tidy, from the careful way she’d tucked a fichu into the neckline of her gown, to the neat arrangement of her coiffure.

  It was with anticipation that he thought of seeing her again tomorrow. Of course, she was taller than he’d thought she would be, and that gray gown was undoubtedly her idea of mourning, but he couldn’t wait to see her in color and dressed up to the nines.

  Now that her uncle had been disposed of and she had been informed of the inheritance which was rightly hers, everything had been set into proper motion. Martin smiled, satisfied with himself. He was planning his delightful courtship with her already.

  10

  Kate

  Daydreams of Mr. Evans kept Kate snuggled in the comfortable feather bed long past an acceptable hour on the first morning in her room. Her maid had come in with hot water at least an hour ago and she could hear her scurrying around the room now, most likely setting out another of Kate’s plain gowns and tidying the dressing table. It had been a week since she’d last seen Mr. Evans when he’d come personally to retrieve his carriage. She had felt quite disappointed to find him conspicuously absent from the church on Sunday.

  Emily had arrived two days prior with a housekeeper in tow, and Kate and Alice both were beyond grateful to have handed over the reins to the seemingly capable Mrs. McKinley. A few maids had already come from Larkfield prior to Mrs. McKinley’s arrival and had been working on cleaning the house, but it was a large building and progress had been slow. After only two days in the position, Mrs. McKinley had somehow acquired an army of servants and the entire first floor was very nearly set to rights.

  Kate flipped over on her bed and stretched her arms high above her head. She had not had the luxury of sleeping late in her life and she was glad to take advantage of the opportunity, but it could not be a regular occurrence. The time read eight o’clock and she smiled when she considered that it was probably still early to a great many people. Emily included, no doubt.

  With her auburn brown hair coiled on her head in a neat bun and her gray gown in place, she made her way to the breakfast room, surprised to see that Emily had beaten her there and was munching on a triangle of toasted bread.

  “Good morning, sleepy head,” Emily said after taking a sip of tea.

  “Have you recently become an early riser?” Kate asked from the sideboard where she filled her plate with scrumptious food.

  “No, but there was a noise that woke me this morning, and I couldn’t go back to sleep. I am surprised it did not wake you too—it was immensely loud.”

  Kate sat beside her friend and began preparing her own tea. “What was it?”

  Emily shrugged her delicate shoulder. “I don’t know. At first, I thought someone was hammering on the other side of my wall but when I got up to look, there was no one there.”

  “Odd. I’ll have to ask Mrs. McKinley about it.”

  “Please do,” Emily said haughtily. “I’d prefer not to be woken in that manner again.”

  Kate chuckled as she sipped her tea. She knew not to take Emily seriously. Instead she enjoyed her eggs and spread some marmalade on toasted bread.

  “Shall we go into town today and see what their shops have to offer?” Emily asked. “What do you think?”

  “I had thought to begin tackling the garden today,” Kate said. “Perhaps we can shop tomorrow? Larkfield boasts one millinery and I believe one modiste, and I doubt either of them are quite up to your standards now that you have London’s shops at your disposal.”

  “Nonsense.” Emily stuck her nose in the air before shooting Kate a sly grin. “I was thinking we’d shop for you, anyhow. You cannot go on wearing those wretched gray gowns forever. You are not even mourning your uncle.”

  “No, I am not. But do you not think that local society will find me less than acceptable if I do not show at least some form of mourning? I would never wear black for him, but I do think coming into this house and turning everything upside down and then wearing bright colors on top of that might seem a bit… graceless.”

  “Then don’t wear bright colors. You may choose the darkest colors you can find. Or even stick to gray if you must. But at least get something new. Something flattering.”

  “I don’t know,” Kate said, focusing on her toast. “I must think on it.”

  Emily rose from the table with a triumphant smile and danced from the room after informing Kate that she was going to change into her habit and go for a ride. She did not, as a rule, travel without her fine mare, Josephine, and she could not see the day started without a ride. As Emily walked away, Kate heard mutterings about her not being English enough because she refused to learn to ride, and she had to smile to herself. It was not that she never wanted to learn, it was merely the lack of opportunity. When others were taking riding lessons at school, Kate had been busy with her drawing and watercolors. It had seemed like a waste of time for someone that was to spend the rest of their life in a teaching position to learn to ride. Now, however, she had rather wished she had learned. Now it would be a practical skill.

  Mrs. McKinley walked by the breakfast room just then and Kate got up to chase her down. At a ladylike pace, of course.

  “I wanted to ask you if you know anything about a loud hammering sound that woke Mrs. Nielsen early this morning? She believed it to be in the room beside her own.”

  “Oh, I do apologize,” Mrs. McKinley said in her stately way. “There was a table in the library that was stuck against the wall and Alfred was attempting to pry it away to retrieve a book that had wedged in the corner. I promise such a disturbance will not happen again.”

  “Was he able to retrieve the book?”

  “Yes, one of the maids had dropped it when she was dusting. It was a slim little thing but too stubborn to be removed easily.”

  Mrs. McKinley looked tense standing in the corridor, as though she fought to hold herself there instead of attending to the many other things which she ought to be doing.

  “I was also wondering how the search for a butler was going,” Kate said.

  “I have received a few responses to my post and narrowed it down to two candidates. They will both be coming in for an interview and we shall have a butler in place by the end of next week.”

  “That is wonderful. Thank you, Mrs. McKinley.”

  The housekeeper nodded once before briskly stepping away.

  Kate watched her leave, swallowing the desire to follow Mrs. McKinley wherever she was going and ask to help. She was accustomed to being useful. Since Mrs. McKinley had come to Split Tree Manor and taken control of the household, Kate had felt oddly bereft.

  She was not ready to settle down as the lady of the manor, servants silently swirled around her doing all of the work while she hosted teas and stitched flowers on pillows.

  Flowers. A splendid notion.

  Kate made short shrift of pulling on her half boots and locating the garden shed behind the house. She found a pair of gloves that were entirely too large but would get the job done and set off for the kitchen garden. There was staff responsible for undertaking the process of caring for both the vegetable garden and the remnants of a pleasure garden, but the head gardener had deemed the ivy climbing up the outside of the house as nearing dangerous and he and his under gardener were both making the vines their primary focus until the situat
ion was under control. Kate located the kitchen garden easily and nearly balked at the mass of overgrown weeds waiting for her.

  What had people eaten here the last few months? The garden had to be covered in at least six months of extra growth. She pulled on the gloves with determination before entering the small gated area and getting to work.

  Sweat beaded on her brow and quickly cooled in the light summer breeze as Kate worked section by section through the garden plot. As the sun rose steadily behind wispy white clouds, her limbs felt weary, but she continued on, working muscles that had never before been used to such excess. It took hours, or so it seemed, for her to make it through an entire row before she looked behind her only to see an endless expanse still yet untouched. Not one to quit, however, she turned around and kept going. It was easy to fall into a rhythm, and something about pulling the encroaching, polluting weeds from the ground and tossing them into her ever-growing pile was as cleansing as it was restorative.

  Hoofbeats sounded faintly in the distance and Kate assumed Emily was back from her ride. She made a mental note to consider purchasing a mare of her own and asking Emily to teach her to ride. With such an abundance of property now belonging to her, it only made sense to have easily accessible transportation. Sitting back on her heels, she looked up at the south wall of the manor. The door to the kitchen could be seen just to her right, and while the house was large and imposing, now that the ivy vines were being managed, it also looked rather serene.

  Serene? She recognized the feeling with a jolt, shaking her head in wonder that she could ever pair such a word with a place that housed so many of her miserable memories.

  The laugh that sounded in the distance was undoubtedly Emily’s, and Kate took the excuse to leave the remainder of the garden to another day. She shed her gloves but took most of the dirt with her embedded in her skirts. With a rueful glance at the work she had yet to accomplish, Kate took off toward the stables, hoping to meet Emily. When she rounded the corner and came face to face with not only her friend, but the object of her most recent daydreams, she felt her face flush before the shock in Emily’s eyes could fully reach her consciousness.