Louise M. Gouge (13 page)

Chapter Twenty-One

T
he small book felt heavy in Anna’s pocket, but she dared not to present it to Major Grenville. As she watched Lady Greystone instruct the butler, Johnson, to hand out the various gifts to senior staff and family, she began to worry she had been too presumptuous. None of the other staff had presented gifts to the family. Yet in her ill-defined position, how could she discern what was expected? Even last night at the lighting of the Yule log, she had felt little connection to the celebration other than helping Lady Greystone distribute presents to the grateful villagers. She gazed around the festive drawing room, appreciating the lovely decorations but longing so much for her familiar old life with
Mamá,
Papá
and Peter that her heart ached.

“Miss Newfield.” Johnson laid a large package in her lap. “From Lady Greystone.”

“Oh!” She stopped herself mid-gasp. “I thank you, my lady.” The viscountess’s face was immobile as she gave Anna an imperious nod, but Anna could not withhold a smile. Her sad mood disappeared as she slipped twine and brown paper from the gift to reveal a bolt of grey cotton fabric and yardage of black piping and lace. “How beautiful.” Without a word, she understood. Her employer was granting her permission to wear half-mourning in place of her all-black attire.

After the viscountess’s gifts had been distributed, a much-improved Lord Greystone brought out his offerings: an exquisite gold and tourmaline necklace for Lady Greystone, jeweled cravat pins for his brothers and Wedgwood china for his sister-in-law. The doting uncle also gave Mr. and Mrs. Grenville a stack of boxes that bore Baby Eliza’s name, to the amusement of all. And he surprised Anna by presenting her with a mahogany lap desk with pen, ink, wax and sheets of vellum stored inside.

“Every lady should have her own writing implements.” His back to his mother, he gave Anna a teasing wink. Did he know she had borrowed writing supplies from Mrs. Dobbins? Had he seen her copying the poems in the library? Oh, how heavy the book lay in her pocket.

Once all the gifts had been distributed, everyone enjoyed a grand breakfast. Then Lady Greystone advised an afternoon of quiet before the arrival of the guests for tomorrow’s Boxing Day hunt.

Anna made her way to her room, still wavering between giving the book to Major Grenville and burying it deep in her trunk. Mrs. Hudson and the others appreciated the gifts Anna gave them, but after observing the gift-giving ritual Anna was beginning to understand the hierarchy of the house. Giving a gift to someone above her could be considered a terrible breach of etiquette. Possibly sufficient for dismissal if Lady Greystone learned of it and thought Anna was setting her cap for Major Grenville. Of course he would never report her blunder. But the house had many eyes, and someone might carelessly mention it to Lady Greystone.

In the sanctuary of her room Anna found an extra, unopened package, a rather large one almost the size of the lap desk. Clearly the servants had made a mistake when they brought up the others. But a tiny tag bore her name, so she opened it with trembling hands, revealing a carved wooden box and a note. She recognized Major Grenville’s hand, which made her tremble all the more.

“My dear Miss Newfield, your splendid brother once told me of your interest in watercolors. Enclosed please find all you need to enjoy this delightful pastime. Yours dutifully, E.G.”

Had he noticed she left her paint set in Blandon when her trunk could not hold another item? Such kind regard overwhelmed her and she did not try to stop the tears rolling down her cheeks. The box indeed contained small embossed cakes of paint in many shades, brushes of different sizes and textures, charcoal sticks and several tiny porcelain dishes for mixing colors. The hinged lid of the box was a paper holder filled with numerous sheets just waiting to be filled with all sorts of pictures. What pleasure she would take in capturing the likenesses of the Grenville family, the servants, the horses and anything else that struck her fancy.

Brushing away her bothersome tears, she decided upon a rash action and set out to accomplish it. She left her room and hurried to the west wing, no longer forbidden because she was permitted to visit Mrs. Grenville in her sitting room. But it was the door beyond that one where she stopped. Major Grenville himself answered her knock, and his face brightened at the sight of her. He stepped into the hallway and gazed down into her eyes with a knowing grin.

“Why, Miss Newfield, to what do I owe the honor of this visit?”

Anna returned a playful smirk. “Sir, as you have commissioned your portrait to be painted, we have only to find the proper setting. Perhaps you would like for the artist to capture you seated in the library reading this.” She drew the poetry book from her pocket and placed it in his hand. At his shocked expression, which continued for countless seconds, she feared she had made a grave error. To her great relief, as he examined the contents of the book, his expression warmed.

“My dear Miss Newfield, you cannot imagine how perfect this is. How did you know which poems were my favorites?”

“If you hoped to keep them a secret, you should not use bookmarks.”

“Ah. I see my error.” His cheerful expression faded, and he glanced down the hallway. “Shall we visit my niece?”

Understanding his meaning, Anna followed his gaze. She was safe. Not even a servant approached. “Yes, of course.”

“You go. I’ll come in a moment.” He ducked back into his room.

Anna walked to the next door, praying she would not encounter anyone before she got there. As she lifted her hand to knock, the major reemerged from his room and approached. At that instant the door flung open.

“What is this?” Lady Greystone stood in the doorway, her eyes on Anna, then on the major. “What are you two doing?”

* * *

Honor thy mother.
Edmond’s scripture reading that morning had been clear and convicting. No matter how she behaved toward him or anyone else, he must do what was right and forgive her many failings. But he also had a duty to protect Miss Newfield.

“Good afternoon, Mother.” He gave her a quirky smile before recalling she did not care for that particular grin. “No doubt Miss Newfield is here to see Baby Eliza, just as I am. And what about you, madam? Have you met your grandchild at last?” He hated the almost insolent tone in his words, but he must divert her attention.

“Humph. Little you know.” A brief glint sparked from her eyes but she seemed to deliberately extinguish it, as if wanting to hide any gentle sentiments. “Our guests will be here soon. Do not linger too long, no matter how much she charms you.”

Edmond started to protest that Miss Newfield did not charm him in the least, but that would not only be a lie, but hurtful to the young lady. Then he realized Mother was referring to Baby Eliza. As she strode away Edmond exhaled quietly and waved a hand toward the chamber door. “After you, Miss Newfield.”

“I thank you, sir.”

The relief in her eyes struck deep in his soul. Her very life hung upon dodging Mother’s irrational suspicions, much as Edmond’s life had hung upon dodging haphazard musket shots on the battlefield. But then, perhaps those suspicions were not so irrational at all.

* * *

“Mr. Terrence Ashton-Smyth.” Johnson stood in the drawing room doorway and announced the entrance of each guest.

“He is the hunt master.” Mary Grenville stood beside Anna, adding a word about each person who entered. This gentleman’s arrival gave Anna no little alarm, for it reminded her of tomorrow’s ordeal. She tried to quiet her growing fears, but her prayers did not bring the usual serenity born of trusting God in all things.

“Mr. and Mrs. Gregory Stanhope.” The butler’s rich tones carried throughout the rapidly filling room. “Lord and Lady Egmont.”

“Ah, my uncle and aunt decided to come,” Mary whispered. “Will you excuse me?” Her light steps as she hurried across the room suggested she had fully recovered from her lying-in over a month ago. Her courtesy in excusing herself from Anna gave proof of their growing friendship.

The room was filled with the fragrances of perfumes and pomades that vied for preeminence with the scents of Christmas greenery and a roaring hearth fire. Now alone behind the pianoforte, Anna tried to overcome her anxieties by memorizing each newcomer’s name. With over twenty Christmas night visitors at the Lodge, Lady Greystone had instructed her to make certain no female was left standing alone. But there was little danger of that happening. Everyone seemed to know everyone else, and all the ladies—beauties one and all—had gentlemen eager to claim their attention. Dressed in black to designate her mourning, wearing a black lace cap proclaiming her a spinster not seeking a husband, Anna received a few glances, but no gentlemen requested an introduction. Which was all well and good, for she would not know what to say to these aristocrats if they did approach her. Nor did she wish to see their disappointment when they learned her actual status.

Against her will, Anna’s eyes searched out Major Grenville and found him alone beside the hearth. She could not comprehend why the pretty young heiresses who were gathered around Lord Greystone did not seek his equally handsome brother’s company, especially when he looked so gallant in his crimson dragoon uniform. She could only suppose it had to do with his lack of fortune, a circumstance she well understood. Of the few unattached gentlemen who had called upon her in Blandon, not one made a second visit after learning of her meager dowry. Perhaps that was just as well, as there had been no dowry at all and her inheritance a mere twenty pounds. A very strange circumstance, for
Papá
had always managed his money well. If not for Major Grenville—

As if sensing her gaze, he looked her way and lifted his punch cup in a salute. With it, he lifted her spirits. He had promised to be at her side during the hunt, and she would do everything within her power not to embarrass him.

He tilted his head toward his eldest brother and rolled his eyes. Anna had to pucker her lips to keep from laughing. Apparently, he had similar thoughts about the pretty, simpering girls surrounding Lord Greystone, along with at least one matron pushing her daughter forward. To add to the melee, Mr. Ashton-Smyth was attempting to get the viscount’s attention. And yet Lord Greystone managed to bear it all with composure and good humor. With sensible gentlemen like him in Parliament, England was in good hands. Anna considered it a singular honor to have his kind regard.

At last the hunt master caught the viscount’s eye. He disengaged himself from the group and conferred with the gentleman. Anna traded another look with Major Grenville. He shrugged.

Soon the viscount raised his hands. “Ladies and gentlemen, may I have your attention?”

The room silenced immediately.

“Mr. Ashton-Smyth regrets to inform me that our hunt is off.”

A groan of disappointment rose up from the guests, but Anna thought she would drop to the floor in relief. She swallowed her giddy giggles and looked at Major Grenville to see if he was disappointed. He sent her a one-shoulder shrug and droll grin so charming that she had to force her attention back to Lord Greystone.

“Due to my indisposition, I have not been out and about for many weeks, or I would have noticed the solidly frozen ground. I am certain you will agree that it would be ill-advised for us to expect our dogs to work, for it would risk their health and lives.”

Again the room buzzed with conversation, sounds of disappointment mingling with approval over the decision.

“I am as disappointed as you are, and I regret that I could not warn you off to save you a journey. However, let us be of good cheer. We can still dress out in our pinks, mount up, have a stirrup cup, perhaps have a ride through the countryside, should the day permit.” The viscount looked about the room. “What say you?”

Shouts of approval now filled the air and the course was decided. Soon Johnson announced dinner. In order of precedence, the entire party removed to the dining room. With everyone else paired, it was left for Major Grenville to offer his arm to Anna, which she gladly took.

“I can only assume—” he leaned toward her, his eyes dancing with good humor “—you are dreadfully disappointed about the foxhunt.”

In awe of God’s mercy, Anna could only nod. The major understood her fears and, like her heavenly Father, did not condemn her.

Chapter Twenty-Two

E
dmond’s eyes scanned an article in the week-old newspaper, but nothing on the page registered in his mind. These winter evenings in the drawing room always dragged on endlessly for him. Winter had never been his favorite season, but this year was the worst he had ever experienced. The sun rarely broke through the hazy skies, the shorter days gave little time for outdoor activities, and the long, bitter nights ground by as if the world would never thaw. Newspapers brought word that the Thames had frozen so solidly that a Frost Fair, complete with bonfires, had taken place on the ice-packed river. Such news stirred memories of long winter months spent in battlefield tents, something Edmond prayed he would never have to repeat. But the
London Times
’ dismal reports about the war with Napoleon gave little hope that he could escape returning to military service, whether on the Continent or back in America.

Across the room Miss Newfield chatted quietly with Mary, but Edmond could not hear their conversation. Still, if not for her warm presence, he would no doubt fall into a deep melancholy. How did she manage to smile every dreary day and speak a kind word to every person in the household, including Mother? And how pleasant it would be to dwell in a home where the lady of the house provided sunshine when nature did not.

Throughout these three months since Twelfth Night, he’d spent little time alone with the young lady other than during their twice-weekly rides, when it was too cold to talk. During the evening gatherings in the drawing room he rarely risked giving her any special notice lest Mother misinterpret his actions. Yet even when Miss Newfield was in another room, she was in his thoughts. Close behind came thoughts of marriage. Foolish, of course, for he could not marry until he could provide a home and security for his bride. But gone forever were his former opinions regarding social rank and the Great Chain of Being. Miss Newfield had proven far superior to any aristocratic young lady he had ever met, and none other would suit him for a wife.

But how did she regard him? Her kindness extended to every person equally, so how could he claim any special place in her affections? And would it be fair to either of them if he did?

The answer, of course, was no. When Uncle Grenville canceled his November visit, he ended Edmond’s hopes of gaining an audience with him to request sponsorship at the Inns of Court. Before Greystone and his entourage traveled to London for Parliament and the Season, Mother would undoubtedly ship Edmond back to the army. He had no fear of fighting or even of dying for his country. Yet his desire to fight in the courts of law had continued to grow after Miss Newfield was treated so shabbily by the infamous but invisible Squire Beamish and his solicitor. But unless he had a grasp of the legalities of the situation, he had little chance of ever helping her regain what they had undoubtedly stolen.

“Edmond.” Mother’s sharp voice cut into his musings, and he jolted in his chair. “You must go to London with us.”

His heart began to hammer out a drummer’s battle cadence. He’d barely prayed for it—and felt little faith when he did—and yet hope beyond his wildest hope had just been granted to him. London! Uncle Grenville! But if he revealed the emotions now churning through his chest, she would be more than a little suspicious. Somehow he managed a lazy, “Must I?”

Seated on the other side of Mother, Miss Newfield had no such scruples. Her eyes brightened and a full smile flashed across her lovely lips. Just as quickly she puckered away the smile, but her eyes continued to sparkle. If he doubted her regard for him, her obvious delight put that fear to rest. Had she been dreading their approaching separation as much as he?

“Of course you must.” Mother took up her quizzing glass and stared at him as she did when provoked. “How else can Greystone and I secure a position for you with Wellington?” She exhaled with impatience. “Have you no ambition? No wish to make something of yourself?”

Edmond ached to glance again at Miss Newfield, to disprove his mother’s insinuations and proclaim that his greatest ambition was to make certain the young lady never wanted for anything. But again he gripped his emotions and gave Mother an indolent shrug. “I thought you wanted me to return to America.”

Again she sighed irritably. “Really, Edmond. Contrary to what you may think, I do not wish for my sons to be sent off to foreign lands. But we each have a duty to the Crown. Yours is to help conquer England’s foes.”

“Ah, well.” Edmond waved his hand lazily in the air. “America, France. ’Tis all the same to me.” He slid a languid glance in Greystone’s direction. “Speak to whomever you will, and I shall comply.”

Greystone gave him a slight nod. But his knowing half-smile and quirked eyebrow communicated a message that lifted Edmond’s hopes more than anything his brother could have said. Perhaps Greystone would speak to Uncle Grenville on his behalf. Or find another barrister to sponsor him at the Inns of Courts. And perhaps Greystone was not Mother’s puppet after all.

* * *

Anna tucked her new dress into the wooden trunk and closed the lid. This time no one stood by to demand an accounting of each item she packed. And this time she was filled with excitement instead of dread over the forthcoming trip.

London. Just the city’s name stirred all sorts of grand imaginings. If given the opportunity, she would paint pictures of St. Paul’s Cathedral and Westminster Abbey. Perhaps Windsor Castle. The Tower. London Bridge. Perhaps her riding lessons would continue and Major Grenville would take her to Hyde Park so she could capture just the right shades of the flowers.

But then, he might be returning to duty soon. Then what would she do? He had saved her from many small offenses over these past months, and she supposed opportunities to err would increase in the city. Yet if she confessed the truth to herself, she despaired of seeing him leave at all. She could see he cared for her, perhaps even beyond his sense of duty to her as Peter’s sister. In all ways he protected her from Lady Greystone’s groundless suspicions that she had set her cap for him. She had not set her cap for him at all. Indeed, she had not. He was her good friend, nothing more. And if she continued to tell herself that, she might just begin to believe it.

“Miss Newfield?” Mary Grenville scratched on the half-open bedchamber door.

“Please come in.” Anna hurried across the room, wishing she could give the lady a farewell embrace.

Mrs. Grenville did just that, pulling Anna into her arms and squeezing hard. “Oh, Miss Newfield, I shall miss you.”

“I shall miss you, too, madam.” Anna struggled against tears. “I pray God will grant you and your dear family good health and happiness.”

Mrs. Grenville glanced out the door, then closed it. “Will you add to your prayers a petition that Mr. Grenville will soon find a living?”

“But does he not expect to have the Greystone Village living when Mr. Partridge retires?”

The lady shook her head so hard her brown curls bounced. “I cannot discuss it, but…”

“I understand.” She did not, of course, but she could pray for God’s will for this good family.

“I brought you something.” Mrs. Grenville pressed a silk and ivory filigree fan into Anna’s hand. “You must ask Mother Greystone whether you may use it or not. It is a bit fancy for mourning.”

“Oh, my. I thank you. It is exquisite.” Anna fanned it open and fluttered it before her face. “I will ask, but Lady Greystone has told me that as six months have passed since my father’s death I must wear only half-mourning. She will see to my wardrobe once we arrive in London.”

“Humph.” Mrs. Grenville glanced again at the door, as if fearing someone might hear her. “I would guess she prefers not to be accompanied by someone in black. While grey is not exactly a jolly color—” She shrugged. “I will pray for you, Anna Newfield. You will need it.”

“Why, do we all not need constant prayers?” A sense of foreboding teased at her mind.

“Yes, of course.” She chewed her bottom lip, an unusual gesture for the always proper lady. “Please permit me to warn you about a matter you may not have considered. You must maintain a disinterested facade when you look upon…certain people.”

“But, I—” Had her eyes revealed her heart? If so, she must make every effort to stop it. “I thank you, madam.”

“Please understand. We wish you the greatest happiness, but—”

“Please.” Anna would cry if she continued. “Say no more.”

After another fervent embrace, the lady took her leave, and Anna called for a footman to fetch her luggage. As she descended the marble staircase, she could not help but ponder Mrs. Grenville’s unspoken words. And the more she pondered, the more she worried. For the next three days she would be in a closed coach with the very man she had been warned not to regard too fondly, the very man she was forbidden to love.

* * *

Seated across from Mother in the carriage, Edmond took care to maintain a bland, ever-bored facade. But in the corner of his eye he saw Miss Newfield staring out the window as resolutely as a soldier on lookout for the enemy. Although for weeks she had expressed eagerness to go to London, for the past three days she had hardly said a word and then spoke only to Mother. Perhaps something had happened before they left the Lodge. He began to list possibilities, but then chided himself for such nonsense. This young lady had suffered tragedies beyond bearing, yet she had borne them with courage. Until he had a chance to speak privately with her, he would assume she was studying the passing landscapes with thoughts of painting the pastoral scenes once they were settled in the town house. Every painting she had completed proclaimed her an artist, but his favorite was the portrait of Baby Eliza, whose merry, toothless smile he already missed.

He noticed Mother dozing, lost in a sound sleep, if her even breathing was any indication. A spark of mischief caught fire in his chest. He reached into his jacket to retrieve one of his old calling cards. Crumpling the stiff paper into a wad, he glanced again at Mother, then lobbed it across the carriage, striking Miss Newfield harmlessly on her fair cheek.

The young lady gasped softly and swung her widened eyes in his direction. Her full lips quirked up into a lopsided grin. Greystone snorted out a quiet laugh. Mother shifted and blinked away sleep, for the briefest moment disoriented. Then her eyes focused on him and narrowed. Miss Newfield looked back out the window.

And Edmond’s heart soared, his winter doldrums at last dispelled.