“I am an incurable snoop. I found a cache of valuable jewels in her room. She does not need to be a governess.”
Intrigued by this information, he remembered the leather case Miss Haverley had rescued from the carriage wreck. So it
had
been full of jewels! Intriguing.
“Your mother says Miss Haverley is going to ruin your sisters’ complexions by taking them out of doors so much. I hope she will not lose her post.”
“That is their idea, believe me!” She gave him a saucy grin. “But you seem very intrigued by our governess. Are you cherishing a passion for her?”
He laughed at her nonsense. “You read too many novels, Miss Leticia. I am after the jewels, obviously.”
When he returned his partner to her parents, he excused himself and went outside for some air. He thought about the minor mystery of Miss Haverley. Should he amuse himself by trying to solve it? It was almost irresistible. Perhaps he could plan to run into her and her charges in the Lindsay’s park.
As the entire county evidently supposed him to be courting Miss Lindsay, he should probably leave the matter alone. Kicking a stone across the road, he decided he had had enough of dancing in a stuffy room. Walking home was far more pleasant idea.
Lost in his thoughts, John was at the Lindsays’ ruined folly before he realized he had taken his boyhood shortcut home from the village. The moon was full and he was able to make out his surroundings quite clearly once he took notice. The Lindsays’ wood was quiet, for there was not a breath of wind. The pond was calm, reflecting the moonlight.
On a whim, he went into the folly and sat, looking toward Lindsay Hall. Once again, he recalled pulling Miss Haverley from the water. She had been terrified, but he had felt her body working to overcome the terror as she clung to his neck. It struck him how very different she was from the society women he was used to. There was nothing artificial about her. She seemed to go about life the way she sat a horse: with as little fuss as possible. The incident had upset her usual sense of self tremendously.
He realized someone had come out upon the Lindsay terrace. The small figure wandered to the edge of the pond, and moonlight reflected off her pale face and white neck as she stretched it to look at the heavens. It was surely Miss Haverley!
Glorious waves of hair were down about her shoulders and she wore a white gown with a shawl wrapped around her. She held her face up to the moonlight. Even at this distance, he thought he could read dreams there.
What would this puzzle of a woman be wishing for?
The spell was broken when she shivered. Pulling the shawl closer about her, she turned and went back into the house. There was definitely more to this young woman than she let on.
Rising from his seat, John resumed his walk home. He admitted to himself that he was intrigued.
{ 6 }
D
elia stood by the tiny window which she had opened in her airless room. It was a fine night. A lovely night, in fact. From this spot, she had watched the Misses Lindsay and their parents climb into the carriage which would take them to the assembly that night. According to Molly and Mariah, Miss Lindsay was looking to forward her courtship with Major Lambeth that evening. She had borrowed their mother’s pearls and had worn a new gown, fresh from her
modiste
in London. She had looked very lovely indeed.
Delia could not bear to think about the man, for every time she did so, humiliation overcame her. How absurd she must have looked, casting about in four feet of water! And she could not forget the relief and safety she had felt at being held securely next to his chest.
To calm her fidgets, she decided to write Permelia, her closest friend, who lived next to Delia’s home in Dorset. After giving an account of her arrival and the details concerning her charges, she made a humorous business of Major Lambeth’s two rescues. She finished the letter off with a warning: “
Do not get any ideas concerning a romance between the major and me. He is courting the elder Miss Lindsay and next to her, I am a plain little thing. I do hope he will see through her complete self-absorption before it is too late. She is not at all the type of wife who will make him happy. If I am not mistaken, he suffers from melancholy. He has the most expressive eyes, and I can read it there as well as in his voice.”
She asked for news of her uncle and closed with her new direction and the caution to write to Miss Delia Haverley rather than Lady Cordelia Frensham.
At eleven p.m., she still could not sleep. Frustrated, she drew on a shawl and climbed down the servants’ stairs and found her way out to the terrace. Was John flirting with Miss Lindsay? Most certainly. Cordelia loved to dance, but tonight she would be satisfied looking at the vastness of the heavens. Were her dear parents watching down on her from somewhere in those heavens? What would they think of Major Lambeth? What would they think of
her
standing not only on the sidelines, but home and wandering about this silly pond? She shook her head and wandered back inside.
The following day, she was determined that Molly and Mariah should be made to learn something that would be of use to them in their later lives. She had had an excellent governess herself and particularly loved the subject of history.
When they met in the schoolroom two mornings after their outing on the lake, she was prepared to teach them about Napoleon.
“Today we are going to learn about the war that Major Lambeth has been fighting for the last four years. You are going to meet many young men after your come-outs who will have fought in Spain and Portugal and maybe even Waterloo.”
“But Mama says it is not proper for young ladies to speak about the war. I heard her warning Marianne at tea yesterday.”
“Speaking about it and understanding it are two different things,” Delia told them. “War changes men. I believe it is important for you to understand that.”
“Well, I do not,” Molly said. “I cannot think of anything more boring!”
“I have a much better idea,” Mariah said. “I should like to learn to sketch. Can we not go outdoors today and sketch the lake and the folly? It is such a fine day.”
Delia sighed. She had sketched when she was younger, but did not count it among her greater accomplishments. She much preferred watercolors. However, it transpired that the girls had no painting supplies, so that was not an alternative.
“Very well.” Delia searched through the schoolroom cupboards. “I see that you have charcoal here and some sketchpads.”
“They are Marianne’s. But she left them behind here. She is not interested in sketching now that she is out.”
“If we go outdoors, you must promise that you will take your parasols. And we will sketch from somewhere in the shade.”
The two sisters agreed readily, and soon they were out in the back garden, setting up their portable easels under the shade of a leafy old oak. Delia commenced teaching them about perspective.
The time passed agreeably as both girls seemed genuinely interested in their artwork. Delia sat a bit away from them and, uninterested in the static scene before her, she began to sketch her beloved brother’s face from memory. Though Gerald had been away fighting on the Peninsula since the time she was thirteen, she missed knowing her sibling was alive somewhere in the world. During his school holidays, they had enjoyed their time together, principally because she had been happy to play soldiers with him on the nursery floor. In fact, she had been happy to do anything with him. She had adored her brother. They had corresponded as regularly as his military exploits would allow.
He would be horrified at how her uncle had treated her. Were her brother Gerald alive, she would be home in Dorset, acting as his hostess. Perhaps some of his friends from Eton and Oxford would come to stay and they would have house parties…
Delia chided herself. It was useless to pretend things were other than they were. One day, life would be good again.
“A secret lover, perhaps?”
Startled, she looked up to see that Major Lambeth had appeared over her shoulder and was looking at her sketch.
“From where have you sprung, Major?” she asked, steadying her voice with an effort.
“The Lindsays’ park adjoins ours. I often walk this way to admire Lady Lindsay’s flower garden.”
Delia could not believe that a campaign-hardened soldier would have a taste for flowers. He must have come to pay a call on Miss Lindsay.
“You have not answered my question,” he said.
“It is a very poor sketch of my brother,” she said, closing her sketchbook.
Molly and Mariah could not be expected to stay at their task when their hero had suddenly appeared.
“Oh, Lord John!” Molly squealed. “Do come look! I have just sketched the sweetest picture.”
Strolling over to where the girls were sketching, he admired their work. “A very nice likeness of a giraffe,” he told her. Delia was glad to hear this evidence of humor and thought suddenly that Mariah had described his voice very well when she had referred to it as “handsome.”
“Silly!” she said. “It is the folly!”
“Oh, do escort us on a walk,” Mariah pleaded. “This silly charcoal will not do what I wish it to do.” So saying, the girl threw it down.
“Where should we go?” he asked.
“We could take Nellie for a swim. She is our Irish Water Spaniel. She likes the stream better than the lake. Mama makes us keep her in the barn unless she is on leash because she jumps on people. But it is so hot, she must be baking today!” Mariah said.
“I have a great fondness for Water Spaniels, as a matter of fact. Have you made the acquaintance of Nellie, Miss Haverley?” He had one dark eyebrow raised and a half-smile on his face.
“We assure ourselves of her well-being daily,” she said drily. “I am happy to see you no longer require your sling, Major.”
“Thank you for your concern, Miss Haverley. By all means, let us take Nellie for a swim,” he said.
“Remember your parasols, Molly and Mariah,” she said, opening her own.
Nellie began yipping before they were halfway to the barn, evidently scenting her saviors. To Delia’s chagrin, the girls broke into a run.
“They love their dog,” she said, shaking her head.
“I do not see Lady Lindsay anywhere around,” the major replied, scanning the environment. “Let them enjoy themselves. They have too many years ahead of them when they shall have to be proper.”
“That is a marvelous piece of insight, coming from a man,” Delia said.
“Thank you.”
Once Molly had the frisky brown spaniel on his lead, she took the major’s arm with her available hand and Mariah took his other. This left Delia to walk behind. Everyone else’s legs were longer than hers, so she quickened her pace. The sun
was
warm today, even in the forest as its rays slanted through the trees. The birds chattered loudly all around them, and she particularly enjoyed the pungent smell of the evergreens that Lord Lindsay had planted along the path by the stream. She heard the girls giggling in front of her and noticed that they had left their parasols behind.
When they reached the stream, Molly and Mariah let go of the major and took Nellie off her lead. They ran ahead to a boulder by the side of the stream to watch her antics as she entered the water. She barked and paddled toward them. The girls shrieked as Nellie splashed them in her enthusiasm.
“Beautiful dog,” said the major. “Do you know if they intend to breed her?”
Delia judged his interest to be genuine. “I think there has been some talk of it. Are you looking for a dog?”
“Indeed. I think Nellie’s offspring would make admirable hunters.”
Delia spun her parasol. “It has been too long since I’ve been hunting,” she mused.
“I thought you had an excellent seat on a horse. Did you hunt with your brother?”
“With my whole family. My mother was an excellent huntress.”
“Have you no family left?” he inquired gently.
Delia realized she had opened a forbidden subject. “Oh yes,” she said lightly. “Plenty of relations! Molly, Mariah, do move off that boulder! You are getting very wet!”
“It feels good!” Mariah said with a squeal. But the girls reluctantly obeyed.
“Come, Nellie! Let us go find a stick!” cried Molly.
Nellie leapt out of the stream and shook herself vigorously to the sound of more girlish squeals. Then the three took off to look for a suitable stick in the forest.
“Oh to be that young and carefree,” said the major. He was looking at her as he squinted in the sunlight. “But I imagine they are a challenge for a governess.”
“They do rather reject the traditional curriculum for young ladies,” said Delia, finding a dry spot to sit on the deserted boulder.
“So no French or music or embroidery?”
“None. Which leads me to believe that I will be blamed for their hoydenish ways if I am here long enough.” A woodpecker sounded in a nearby tree. “Right now, my main occupation is meant to be keeping them out of the way, I think.” Feeling his eyes on her, she traced a pattern on the boulder with her finger. “I try to insist that they learn something, but they are so artless and fun-loving, and, as you noted, they have so many years ahead of them to be well-mannered females. It is very hard to curb their enjoyment.”
She looked up and found Major Lambeth’s sun-weathered face creased in the first real smile she had seen. Her heart sped up and the stream suddenly seemed to sparkle as though it were strewn with diamonds in the sunlight.
“Is being a well-mannered female as much a bore as I imagine it to be?” he asked.
Delia bit her bottom lip in an effort not to grin. “A dead bore,” she said finally. “When I was Mariah’s age, my brother and I had a fort in the woods. We played Red Indians, pioneers, Colonial Wars…”
“Was he not at school?” He took a seat beside her on the boulder and began stripping a twig. She felt the warmth of his closeness through her thin muslin gown. An unfamiliar tension thrummed through her.
“Yes. But he always came home for the long vacation. I lived for summertime.” Visions of those halcyon days caused her to relax slightly.