“And if I won’t promise such a thing?” Suzanne said, displaying an irritating measure of cheekiness.
“Then I shall refuse to see him when he arrives. I will let him take that long journey in the cold and the wind and deny him entrance to the house so as to prevent your interference.”
“That would be most ill-mannered of you,” Suzanne said, but Amber could see she was conflicted. She was choosing between one more visit she very much wanted Amber to enjoy, or an extreme inconvenience to a man who did not deserve it. Amber felt certain she could never be so rude to Mr. Richards as to turn him away; she was counting on Suzanne’s romantic sensibilities to prevent it from happening.
“I will not hesitate to be as ill-mannered as I must be. I am an eccentric widow living in the home of a woman who was known for her discontent,” Amber said. “And you know I am perfectly capable of such rudeness if I’m of a mind to do it, though I find no joy in such things as perhaps I once did. I need your word that you will assist me in whatever way I request.”
Suzanne regarded her a few moments longer and then finally nodded. “I promise to help you refuse him
if
you choose to do so.”
Chapter 43
For Thomas, the invigoration of an afternoon in Miss Sterlington’s company lasted well into the next day. Upon finishing a meeting with the architect, Thomas hurried in to change his clothes and then retrieved a basket of refreshments from the kitchen, kissed Mrs. Berdsten on the cheek, and took Farthing at a faster pace than he ought. His boots were splattered with mud by the time of his arrival, and he was glad for his greatcoat that protected his riding coat from similar treatment.
He arrived at Step Cottage with a fresh determination to gain Miss Sterlington’s trust enough that she would reveal herself. It would not do for them to continue with a deception between them, but he wanted it to be Miss Sterlington who broke her silence rather than he who called her out. From the ease between them the day before, he expected she would find great relief in confessing the whole of it. She could not be comfortable in her ruse, and yet he believed she
was
comfortable in his company. Comfortable enough to trust him, he hoped.
Mrs. Miller answered his knock, smiling a welcome as he entered the cottage and removed his coat, hanging it himself rather than expecting her to do it. “It is very good to see you again, Mr. Richards.”
He grinned broadly and bowed to her. “And very good to see you again as well, Mrs. Miller.” He handed over the basket, which she took, eagerly pulling back the cloth to inspect the contents before looking up at him with raised brows. “You are too good to us,” she said.
“My cook insisted on filling the basket to the brim after the compliments I shared of her former selection.”
“Ham and preserves—and is this a cherry cordial?” She lifted out a bottle.
“Indeed it is. Some of the very finest you’ll find in the county I’d wager.”
“We are much indebted,” Suzanne said. “Miss . . .
Mrs
. Chandler awaits you in the library.” She paused and held his eyes in a way he believed meant that she had deliberately given Miss Sterlington’s correct form of address. She was leaving him bread crumbs without knowing he was in possession of nearly the full loaf.
In an equally bold response, he smiled and nodded slightly, causing her to widen her eyes in realization of his part. He wished he could pull her aside and learn more but that was out of the question, and he preferred Miss Sterlington to share the truth with him herself.
“I shall return shortly with a tray if you would like to show yourself into the library,” Mrs. Miller said with a pleased smile.
Thomas thanked her, then turned his attention to the library, which was as dark as it had been on yesterday’s visit. It made him smile that Miss Sterlington felt the darkness concealed her bright eyes and fine features. He stood in the doorway until his eyes adjusted to the low light and he was able to make out the figure sitting properly on the settee.
She was dressed in a light green gown today with not so high a neckline as the one yesterday, though it was modestly appointed with a trim of lace, and Thomas was reminded of his encounter with her in London and how the color matched her eyes and complimented her hair.
No
, he corrected himself, it would be better not to think of her hair as he knew it to be a casualty of the situation that had sent her here.
The cap she wore today, and had worn during his other visit, concealed the current state of it but if her hair was shorn last summer, it would not be much longer now than Thomas’s own. Certainly this was a matter of great insecurity for her but it was not for Thomas. Even with a short coiffure, she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen and hair would grow back. He had seen for himself that Miss Sterlington’s overall health was unaffected—she was as beautiful as she had ever been, mobcap and all—and yet he could praise her ailment in regard to the part it had played in the woman she had become in response to her circumstance.
“Mr. Richards.” As always the tone of her voice invigorated his senses. “Do come in.”
He did as she asked and sat in his familiar chair. Once seated he wondered if he should have been more forward and seated himself beside her on the settee instead, but he did not want to cause her undue anxiety. He must contain his eagerness. She did not know as much as he did, and he would need to be patient.
“How are our Yorkshire skies this day?” Miss Sterlington asked. He enjoyed that she seemed to have taken ownership of those skies. He liked to think she was beginning to feel she belonged here in Yorkshire.
“Fearsome, I’m afraid,” Thomas said, frowning slightly. “There was rain most of the morning and though it has given some respite, I daresay it will start up again soon. The temperatures are cooling, which makes me wonder if we are due for snow.”
“I shall not expect you to stay so long as to get caught in the storm, then.”
Thomas leaned toward her, causing her to pull back and lower her chin, which kept her face in shadow. How he wanted to pull the cap from her head so he could see her face and those eyes that had kept him up at night. “I shall welcome any force of nature the skies shall deem fit to bestow upon me in trade for a hour of your company.”
“Oh, how you talk.” The nervous twitter in her voice did not disguise the pleasure of her response. “You are doing it too far thick, Mr. Richards. It is not like you.”
Thomas leaned back in his chair. “Perhaps it is quite like me. Perhaps I am a man who does nothing too thick but is neither insincere in his feelings.”
Mrs. Miller brought in the tray and set it on the table before them. “Mr. Richards’s cook sent treacle tarts as well as a cut of ham and bottle of cherry cordial.”
“That is most generous,” Miss Sterlington said. “Please return our compliments to her, Mr. Richards.”
“I certainly shall,” he said with a nod.
Mrs. Miller quit the room and, after hesitating a moment, Miss Sterlington pulled forward on the settee in order to pour the tea. He watched her elegant hands move about the tray with all the etiquette of the
ton,
and when she handed him his cup, his fingers brushed against hers. He realized that he had never actually touched her before and was startled at the energy that shot through his arm and down his spine. He quickly looked at her face and felt a new rush from the surprise of her own reaction. She stared back at him with those big green eyes that rendered him speechless for the time it took her to remember herself and pull her hand away from his.
The swagger and confidence he’d had upon entering the cottage only minutes ago shifted and settled within him at the reaction to her touch, confirming every feeling he’d felt toward this woman in all the months of his having known her. He had been so irritated and even embarrassed by the draw he had felt toward her when she was spoiled and arrogant, yet seeing her transformed character led him to admit that his feelings were not merely biological or even emotional. He was in
love
with Miss Amber Sterlington. She had changed his heart and fate or God or some such force had brought them to this place.
Miss Sterlington looked away first, breaking the spell, though not completely, as she attended to her own cup of tea. He watched every movement of her fingers and expression as she lifted the cup, blew across the surface, and took a small sip before returning the cup and saucer to her lap, which she had not covered with a rug today.
There was silence for a few moments before Amber found a topic to provide rescue. “Suzanne tells me your family is very generous to those of us situated so far from town. She says you often deliver boxes of goods to outlying settlements when the snow is too deep.”
Thomas ducked his chin in modest acceptance. “Living in a place such as this inspires the community to work together. Fortunately we have been spared the worst of the season this year. So far at least.”
“It is certainly generous for you to be so charitable.”
“Traditionally one of the purposes behind a title was that the bearer would care for those within his stewardship, and while those boundaries are not quite so set as once they were, my family has always taken its position as a place of responsibility.” He hoped it did not sound pompous, as it was not how he meant it. However, he
was
proud of his family’s tradition of genuine charity.
Miss Sterlington cocked her head to the side. “I suppose I had not thought of titles in such a way. I fear most men graced with them do not feel such responsibility.”
“I beg your pardon but I am sure most of them do,” Thomas said with a confirming nod. “They may have bailiffs that do the watching, but the men of my acquaintance bound by position seem to understand that they are in a place of benefit for those that work their lands. Though there are a fair amount who spend their time hunting or gaming or some such endeavor, I should hope they are in the minority.”
“That is an optimistic position,” Miss Sterlington said. “I’m afraid as a female I am kept apart from such considerations.”
“And does this bother you, Madam? Do you wish not to be apart?”
Miss Sterlington lifted her shoulders, which drew attention to the line of her neck and collarbone. He was careful to keep his attentions on her face, however, to prevent too much distraction. “I have not lost much time in regret over my sex,” she said. “I have known a great many powerful women in my life, and while their place within society might be different, I have always felt they are equally positioned to have influence if they choose.” She looked up at him. “If we might tie this conversation into Shakespeare, for instance, do you not find that many of his female heroines possess a great many strengths of quality reflective of Queen Elizabeth’s own turning of traditional roles for men and women?”
Thomas was mesmerized by the workings of her mind and could not hold back a smile. “Indeed. I do not feel the Bard was subtle in his positioning of his women characters. I had a professor in Oxford quite enamored of this topic. I can’t help but wonder what turned your head toward it.”
She gave him a smile he knew to be far more dazzling than she expected it to be, otherwise she would never have shared such a bold gesture. It fairly made his fingers tingle with the desire to touch her fine lips, preferably with his own. “I suspect that any woman left to read the entirety of Shakespeare’s work over the course of a winter would be hard-pressed not to find such patterns within his stories.”
“You would be wrong in such suspicions,” Thomas said with assurance. “Forgive me for sounding critical, but I have discussed Shakespeare with any number of women and the best I can expect from them is a passing understanding of his more memorable characters. You would be hard-pressed to find a single one with the barest familiarity with any of his histories, for example. Rather they shall sigh over Romeo and perhaps laugh with Petruchio, but they will see Lady Macbeth as rigid and mad rather than regal and powerful until her guilt overtakes her. They only reference Kate when attempting to contrast their own good nature against what they see as her failings.”
It was brave indeed to introduce Kate—a woman of such similar likeness to the woman sitting across from him—into the conversation. Kate was a veritable Shrew, as the title of her story proclaimed her, but she was intelligent and sought for equality amid men who were of no mind to give it to her. Perhaps Thomas was making too many comparisons in his mind, but he saw many of Kate’s qualities reflected in Miss Sterlington.
“Do you not feel that Kate has great failings, sir?” she asked.
“I do not,” Thomas said, causing her to lift her too-dark brows that looked odd, though perhaps it was only the lighting that made them so. “I find Kate to be one of Shakespeare’s most fascinating heroines. She is proud and intelligent, but chooses to soften her character in order to find equanimity within a position she initially refuses. It is my belief that through the courting process—the taming, if you will—she comes to realize the strength of a solid marriage, that it helps her to share in the position of her husband as no other arrangement can give her. I do not see that she gives up her strengths, rather she hones them into a more useful position and finds herself triumphant.”
“Perhaps such matters of her character are neither good nor bad, then,” Miss Sterlington said in a thoughtful tone as though forming the ideas even as she spoke them. “Rather it is how they are utilized that determine their nature.”
“Precisely,” Thomas said, even more invigorated by the depth of the discussion. “She chooses to use her strengths alongside a husband who allows her to do so rather than to fight against him, which would be a battle she would surely lose. You will remember that at the end of
Taming of the Shrew,
Kate and Petruchio retire to their marital bed, while Hortensio and Lucentio are left to worry about their own marriages. It seems obvious to me which couple found greater joy within their union. Petruchio could have dominated any number of women into the role of his wife, but he chose a woman of strength who then complemented him far more than Bianca or the widow did their husbands.”