Laura Matthews (28 page)

“Would you play a favorite of mine?” he asked deferentially.

“Of course,” she offered with a nervous smile. “What is that?”

“Robin Adair”

Olivia nodded mutely; she did not need the music for the hauntingly beautiful song which was a favorite of
hers
as well. It seemed rude to stare at the harpsichord, but when her eyes locked with his she was wholly disconcerted. As though he realized her discomfort he turned slightly and studied the portrait of Noah’s father on the opposite wall until she finished the piece. “Thank you,” he said softly without turning, “that was beautiful.”

With an unintelligible murmur for reply she placed the music for a sonata on the stand. Without hesitating she launched into the new piece, and Mr. Evans courteously stood behind her to turn the music for her, his hand occasionally brushing against her black locks. Whenever she glanced at him, he was studying her with an alarmingly tender expression. As she continued to play one piece after another, she could feel the tension mount between them, and she was unable to speak. During the pause while she selected the next number she felt the child within her move vigorously and she burst into tears.

Immediately his arms were about her and he asked in an agonized whisper, “Whatever is the matter, my dear Olivia? Have I done something to upset you? Only tell me and I will endeavor never to do so again!”

“No, no,” she sobbed. “You have been everything that is kind, Mr. Evans.” Her body shook with her sobs and he held her to him whispering gentle encouragement.

“Hush now, my dear. It cannot be good for you to cry. Here, let me dry your eyes.” He drew a handkerchief from the pocket of his waistcoat and turned her face up to him. Her eyes, swimming with tears, visibly affected him and he impulsively bent to kiss her.

Olivia had wanted him to kiss her for some time now, and she responded warmly to his lips, but another movement of the child froze her and Mr. Evans abruptly released her, apologizing profusely. He tucked the handkerchief in her hand and stiffly strode away from her, to stand rigidly across the room.

Unsure how to handle the situation, Olivia dabbed forcefully at her face and eyes before she gulped down the last of her sobs.

“It was not your fault, Mr. Evans,” she said at last, barely loud enough for him to hear. “My condition tends to make me emotional, I fear. Pray do not regard it.”

“How can I not?” he groaned. “Please believe that I meant nothing ... did not mean to insult you, Lady Olivia.”
.

More composed now, Olivia waved her hand in a disparaging gesture. “You have not insulted me, Mr. Evans.
It is I who am at fault with my whining self-pity and careless disclosures. I beg your pardon.”

“Never do so,” he cried adamantly. “I will leave now, provided you are sufficiently recovered. I can only thank you for overlooking my lapse so graciously.” He tugged the bell cord himself before he took her hand and gripped it gratefully. “I hope you will call on me in any necessity; I stand your friend, if you will allow me to do so.”

Jarette entered and Olivia said only, “You are very kind, Mr. Evans.”

When he had left, with one last humble bow, Olivia remained alone in the room, distressed, ashamed. There was no excuse for her behavior, no extenuating circumstance could explain it. It made no difference that she had been neglected. Surely she should have strength enough to surmount such a minor inconvenience. Nor did it matter that her husband felt free to dally as he wished. She was a married woman, a woman with child.

Noah had returned from France laden down with his presents, thinking that he would take up where their honeymoon had left off—in bed. He had been patient when he found that he could not, but he had left soon enough, Olivia realized. Was that the only virtue she held for him?

“No, I will not believe that,” she whispered aloud. “For all his insensibility, all his carelessness of me, all his pride, I do love him.”

* * * *

Olivia was not as sure of her devotion to her husband the next morning, when she received a letter from him. Noah wrote from Bath that Julianna’s young man had invited them to his home near Salisbury to meet his family. It was not that Olivia could not rationally see the wisdom of their accepting such an invitation; she was delighted for Julianna. There would certainly be no other time soon when such a visit could be made, with the holidays approaching and Olivia’s own confinement. It was the most practical solution imaginable, and Olivia was furious. Another delay which she had to accept with good grace. For a ha’penny she would have sent a message to the Bell to see if Mr. Evans had already departed for London!

Instead she ordered the gig brought round and bundled herself warmly against the chill November day. There were baskets of foodstuffs and medicinal concoctions to be delivered to the tenants, a visit to be paid at the vicarage. Perhaps she would also stop in Welling for another length of wool. One more cover for the crib would do no harm.

As she guided the gig through the gates she saw a rider approaching, and knew before she could see his face that it was Mr. Evans. A feeling of panic seized her momentarily, but she drew the horse to a halt and stoically watched his approach.

His smile was hesitant and conciliatory. “I could not leave without assuring myself that you are well this morning, Lady Olivia. I am truly vexed with myself for adding to your distress.”

Olivia returned his smile uncertainly. “I appreciate your concern, Mr. Evans, but you find me in the pink of health. The day is most invigorating, and I am just going about some errands.”

“Should you go about alone in your ... that is, did you not wish to take a groom to handle those baskets?”

Her laugh tinkled on the frosty air. “There is never any need for me to lift the baskets, Mr. Evans. No sooner is my gig spied from the window than half a dozen children crowd round to assist me. I cannot doubt it would be so even were I to go abroad on the wettest of days.”

He surveyed her dubiously. “Nevertheless, I would be honored to accompany you and be of what service I could.”

“Very well, if you wish to spare the time. Are you not expected in London?” she asked curiously.

“My time is not regarded as that of a clerk,” he replied stiffly, a frown creasing his forehead. “I am at leisure to come and go as I choose.”

“Now I have offended you,” Olivia cried contritely. “I didn’t mean to disparage your independence, Mr. Evans. It would give me great pleasure to have your company.”

The frown gave way to a sheepish grin. “Perhaps I’m too sensitive on the subject. Where are you headed?”

He rode beside her and questioned her on the neighborhood. Olivia was relieved to stay on neutral topics and expanded on her answers enthusiastically. Each time they made a stop, the children did in fact gather round, but Mr. Evans handed her down from the gig with a solicitousness which would have made her laugh in Noah, but was very flattering from her companion. The visit to the vicarage she considered unwise under the circumstances, and the wool from Welling was decidedly unnecessary, so at the end of her rounds she invited Mr. Evans to join her for tea at the Towers.

His reluctance was apparent and she felt a slight twinge of apprehension herself, but having made the invitation, she pressed him to accept, which he eventually did. The warmth of the Winter Parlor was welcome after the morning cold and she held her hands to the blaze on the grate after ordering tea. Mr. Evans purposely avoided watching her as she moved about the room, and she was poignantly reminded of the previous evening.

When they were seated she introduced the topic of the library at the Towers and Noah’s just pride in it. Mr. Evans was forced to meet her gaze as they talked and he cautiously maintained a respectful countenance, accepting the cup of tea she handed him without allowing their hands to touch. The cook had provided a delectable selection of tarts and cakes, biscuits and bread with butter, and Olivia found herself ravenous after her drive. They did justice to the tray of goodies, laughing at their appetite, and Mr. Evans at length wondered if he might see the library before he left.

Olivia promptly rose to lead him there, and frowned on finding Jarette in the hall outside the Winter Parlor. The old man asked, “Will Mr. Evans be leaving now?”

“No, he will not,” Olivia snapped. “I will ring for you, Jarette, when you are needed.”

“Very good, ma’am.”

She shook her head exasperatedly and continued to the library, where Mr. Evans unerringly chose to comment on the hassock. “Yes, it is rather handsome, is it not? I gave it to Noah as a wedding present.”

Mr. Evans murmured something about it being a shame Sir Noah had had so little chance to use it, but Olivia chose to ignore his remark.
“
The foreign language books are on the west wall—Latin, Greek, German, French, Italian, Spanish. Noah reads most of them in the original, though heaven knows where he picked up the knowledge. The south wall is devoted mainly to an extensive collection of volumes on estate management, farming, animal husbandry and such. It dates back hundreds of years. Technical works, biographies and art books are on the east wall, and fiction on the window wall. Most of the volumes here are older; more recent additions are kept in the book room next door. Noah showed me several volumes inscribed by the authors to his father and grandfather. Let me see,” she mused, her eyes moving along the rows, “I believe this is one of them.”

When she attempted to reach for a volume above her head, Mr. Evans objected indignantly and set her aside firmly. “I can reach it very well myself, Lady Olivia. You have no business exerting yourself so.”

“In my condition,” she finished playfully, laughing up at him.

“Yes,” he said ruefully, “in your condition. If you were my wife ...” He stopped abruptly.

“You would not allow me to lift a finger. I would be pampered disgracefully and become quite unbearable,” she suggested, assuming the demeanor of an old tartar.

“You mock me. It is only right that you should be treated with the tenderness due your ... condition, your station and your own particular radiance.” His face was earnestly serious and he thrust his hands out in a gesture of helplessness.

Shyly, Olivia clasped his hands. “You refine too much on what I’ve said, Mr. Evans. Really, I am tolerably comfortable and need want for nothing.”

“Except the attention of a loving husband,” he said fiercely and pulled her protectively against him where she rested unprotesting. “I find it... intolerable.”

“No, no,” she whispered against his coat. “It is just that sometimes I am unbearably lonely. I had foolishly thought that I need be no longer when I left Stolenhurst.”

He kissed her then and she felt a desire rise within her which clouded her reason. But, as before, the child moved, as if to release her from her bewitched state. Mr. Evans felt the movement as well and he reluctantly dropped his hands from her waist, raising one to rub his brow bemusedly. “I obviously cannot be trusted with you, Lady Olivia. Please do not think too hardly of me. I’ll go now, but I pray you will remember that I am yours to command in any contingency.” His searching eyes scanned her confused face. Only when she had nodded did he bow and turn abruptly on his heels to leave.

Her confusion did not abate with his disappearance, rather it grew until her head ached and her hands shook. She slumped on the hassock and feebly beat her hands against it in an excess of emotion. How could she act this way with Mr. Evans? How could she encourage him, be attracted to him, need his comfort when she loved her husband? I am indeed the child Noah thinks me, she decided. I will take comfort from whomever offers it. There is no strength of character about me at all. Thank God Mr. Evans will be in London, for I do not seem to be responsible for my actions when I am with him.

Olivia rose slowly and went to her room, where she informed Marie that she wished no luncheon and would rest for some time. Emotionally exhausted, she fell asleep immediately to awake only when the pale daylight was failing. She rose then, full of determination to make the best of her situation, and, even seated in lonely splendor at the dining table, she did not waver in her resolve.

Chapter Twenty-five

For a week Olivia kept her hands and mind occupied with any task which suggested itself to her. When she was presented with the next letter from her husband she braced herself before reading it for another delay. Noah informed her, however, that they would be back at the Towers by Friday, only four days away.

In light of this, Olivia dutifully considered the various emergencies which could arise to prevent its achievement. One of the three could become ill; the carriage or one of the horses could be injured; the road might be impassable. Any number of unlikely occurrences might prevent them, she thought gloomily. She advised the staff just as though there were no doubt in her mind but she expected, right up to the moment the carriage drove up to the oak door, that she would receive a message announcing some delay.

Noah thought his wife looked more astonished than pleased to see him. “I did tell you we would be here Friday, did I not?” he asked, puzzled, when they were alone in the library.

“Why, certainly you did, and everything is quite in order,” she replied distantly.

“I don’t think you look so well as you did when last I saw you.” There was concern in his voice as he studied her.

“But that was so long ago I dare say you are mistaken. Dr. Davenport is altogether satisfied with my progress.”

“Are you not pleased to see me, Olivia?” he asked, half serious, half teasing.

“Of course I am, Noah. Your mother and Julianna look well. Do you approve of her young man and his family?”

“Yes, but there is nothing settled as yet. I wish you will talk to her to be sure this is what she wants, Olivia. It follows the Cutler episode rather closely.”

“I hope she’ll confide in me. Is your mother satisfied?”

“I believe she is. There’s certainly no reluctance over the young man himself, a most suitable fellow, but she feels a certain uneasiness as I do over the suddenness.”