Lois Menzel (8 page)

Anne found great pleasure in her new gowns. She had never given much thought before to how she appeared to others, but when Belinda admired her gown, or Jack commented that a color became her, she flushed with pleasure. Looking at her reflection in a pier glass, she tried to remember how she had appeared only a few weeks ago. She had gained some weight, and there was a rosy glow to her cheeks. Now that she no longer scraped her hair back so severely, her face appeared fuller and she looked younger, she thought.

Her new-found pleasure tarnished somewhat in the shadow of the fine ladies invited to Arelia’s house party. Against their costly gowns in brilliant colors, adorned with ribbons and lace, hemmed with rows of ornate flounces, her simple gowns paled. With their elegant coiffures, their wrists dripping diamonds, the fragrance of expensive Parisian scent following them lightly on the air, these women belonged to a different world. When Anne passed them on the stairs or in the hall, some greeted her and most smiled; several ignored her completely. Anne knew now that Mrs. Saunders had not been extravagant in dressing her. The dresses Anne had thought far too grand were perfectly suited to her position as governess.

Early one afternoon, returning from a walk in the home wood, Anne encountered Arelia leaving the Castle on her way to the stables. She wore a dark blue habit trimmed in black braid; a bright blue feather from her hat curled charmingly against her shoulder.

“Dear Miss Waverly!” she exclaimed. “I declare I have not set eyes on you for a week.”

“You have been busy with your guests, ma’am.”

“Busy? Run off my feet, more like. This type of gathering invariably wears the hostess to a thread. It almost makes one come to dread the summer.”

“If you dread it so, why do you do it year after year?” Anne asked practically.

“Why? The answer is there.” Arelia gazed off across the lawn to where Tenbury strolled along an ornamental water with Lady Mason on his arm. The dark-haired widow wore a pale peach gown that contoured her body like a glove. A delicate parasol of the same color shielded her complexion from the harsh sunlight. Tenbury, however, seemed not to mind the sun, for he was bare-headed, his golden hair catching the light as he bent his head to smile at the lady.

“Look at him,” Arelia continued. “He is so handsome—so much like Henry ...” She paused, but before Anne could reply spoke again. “He has much to offer a woman. He should marry. What he is waiting for I cannot imagine; he will be thirty-five in the autumn.”

“Perhaps he had rather not be wed. Not all marriages are happy,” Anne offered.

“True. Yet he has a responsibility. He needs an heir.”

“But surely Tom—”

Arelia shook her head, interrupting Anne in mid sentence. “No. This is not what I expect for Thomas. Henry and I had property in Kent. It is there for Tom when he needs it.” She looked past Tenbury and his companion to the expanse of park and forest beyond. “All this should go to Tenbury’s son. It has been that way for generations, and that is the way it should be ... Dear me. I must go. Lord Wilmington is waiting.”

As Arelia bid farewell and hurried off, Anne turned and entered the Castle, making her way to the library. Lady Tenbury was there. Anne greeted her and moved directly to the shelves, searching for a specific book.

“Will you read to me today?” her ladyship asked.

“Certainly, my lady. What should you like to hear?” Anne found the volume she sought and began paging through it.

“What do you have there?” Lady Tenbury asked.

Anne smiled and crossed the room to sit near the countess.
“The Odyssey.
I was just speaking outside with Mrs. Saunders.”

When she paused, Lady Tenbury encouraged, “About?”

“About marriage,” Anne replied. Continuing to turn pages, she did not notice how Lady Tenbury’s brows rose with interest. “Homer has some thoughts about marriage,” Anne said. “Ah! Here it is.” She read aloud:

“May the gods grant you all things which your  heart desires, and may they give you a husband and a home and gracious concord, for there is nothing greater and better than this—when a husband and wife keep a household in oneness of mind, a great woe to their enemies and joy to their friends, and win high renown.”

“I think that very true,” her ladyship said when Anne had finished. “Do you not find it appealing? My marriage was so.”

Anne smiled, “I can believe
your
marriage was, Lady Tenbury, for you are ‘gracious concord’ itself.”

“La, child! You flatter me. Whose marriage were you discussing—yours or Arelia’s?”

“Actually, Mrs. Saunders was discussing Lord Tenbury’s marriage.”

“I see,” her ladyship responded. “I, too, would like to see him happily wed. I think most mothers wish to see their children comfortably settled. But I am not anxious that he be in a rush.”

“Do your children need to marry for you to consider them settled or happy?” Anne asked.

“I think companionship and commitment are important. Loneliness can be overwhelming. I felt it keenly when my husband died. Thank the Lord I had three strong sons to help fill the void.”

And one of those is already gone, Anne thought to herself.

“But you did not answer my question earlier, Miss Waverly,” the countess said. “Do you find Homer’s concept of marriage appealing?”

“I suppose so. I have never thought much about marriage. All the years I lived with Papa, I readily accepted my life with him. By the time he was gone, it seemed to me that any opportunity for marriage was long past.” Anne was gazing steadily out the window, an almost forlorn expression in her eyes.

Very quietly Lady Tenbury said. “Allow me to quote you a bit of the same
Odyssey
you hold: ‘Surely these things lie on the knees of the gods.’ ”

The unhappy squeal of a cat—close followed by a pitiful wail from Belinda—brought Anne instantly to her feet and to the partially open library door. Belinda was sprawled across the floor of the front hall, her calico kitten gripped tightly in her outstretched hands. Towering above her with a look of mingled disgust and reproach was Lady Mason, still on Lord Tenbury’s arm. Clearly the woman and the child had collided; to Anne’s eyes, Belinda had come off the worst.

By the time Anne covered the few steps to the scene, Tenbury had lifted Belinda to her feet. He carefully peeled the frightened kitten from her clothing and handed it to Anne. Belinda shrank timidly against Anne’s skirts when her eyes encountered the scowling visage of Lady Mason.

Seeing that Belinda’s instinctive apology had frozen on her lips, Anne said, “I am sure Belinda is most sorry, my lady. She must have been chasing the kitten and did not see you.”

Lady Mason, without acknowledging Anne’s apology or even looking at Belinda, turned to Tenbury and said, “What one most dreads about coming to the country is the necessity of encountering children. With what governesses are paid these days, you might think they would at least be able to keep the urchins out from underfoot. I realize this must be your niece, Tenbury, but do you not agree that children should be confined to the nursery?”

Anne stood with the kitten clutched to her breast, one arm about Belinda’s shoulders, as she listened with unbelieving ears to this speech. She could do nothing more than stare at the lady, totally at a loss for words even had she been able to summon the courage to utter them. Her eyes moved from Lady Mason to Tenbury, whom she found regarding her with a stern expression. Unable to withstand his scrutiny, she dropped her gaze to the floor. Tenbury answered Lady Mason’s question after only the slightest pause.

“I do not agree at all. I believe children should be wherever their adventurous feet carry them. Within reason, of course.” He reached down and took Belinda’s chin in his hand, tipping up her tear-stained face. “I think your kitten has had enough excitement for one day, Belinda. Perhaps it would be best if you took her outside to play.”

The child was smiling as Anne escorted her out the door and down the steps. Anne was grateful that the earl made so little of the incident, but she was prepared to pity both Belinda and Tom if Lady Mason ever became the next Countess of Tenbury.

Chapter 7

Early the following afternoon, dressed demurely in her gray gown and straw bonnet, Anne set off to walk to the village. There had been rain during the early hours of the morning, but it had cleared away, leaving blue skies with thin white clouds above. Near the puddles left by the rain, house martins were busily collecting mud for their nests. Along the hedgerows she noticed the frail wild roses in bloom, while in the fields beyond, the farmers were busy cutting the first hay of the season. The sweet scent of freshly mown clover greeted her on a gentle northerly breeze. Further on she recognized a patch of blackberries in blossom—she would bring Belinda to pick them later in the summer.

She was nearly halfway to the village when Tenbury overtook her in his curricle. He pulled his pair to a standstill beside her. “Well met, Miss Waverly. I have been wanting a word with you. Are you on your way to the village? Let me drive you.”

“Thank you, sir, but—”

“I know, you prefer to walk. Unfortunately it is difficult to conduct a conversation between a carriage and the ground.” By a quick count he realized this was the fourth time she had refused to drive with him. Nettled, he was in no mood to indulge her.

“Perhaps we could speak another time, my lord.”

“The present time is most convenient for me, Miss Waverly.” When she still hesitated, he added. “May I add that I am not accustomed to having persons in my employ gainsay me, ma’am. Please get into the carriage.”

The groom jumped down, vacating his seat. Anne unhappily took the hand Tenbury held down to her.

As Murdock set off back to the Castle, Tenbury put his horses in motion, and Anne summoned all her willpower to calm her anxiety. She had just finished luncheon ... she must not allow herself to be ill now.

“Could you let the horses walk, my lord? The day is so pleasant.”

He cast a sideways glance at her. Her face had lost its color, and her eyes were dull. Suddenly suspicious he asked, “Do you fear open carriages? You need not. I have been driving more than twenty years and have yet to kill a passenger.” Then remembering one day long ago and feeling the need to be totally honest he said, “There was a broken arm once ... Henry.” When she turned her horrified gaze to him he added, “But we were racing recklessly, and the pair we had that day were never so steady as these. What do you need in the village?”

“Sewing needles,” she replied.

“You will not have much to choose from here. I will drive you to Winthrop. There you will have an excellent selection.” Then, without consulting her, he turned eastward at the crossroad and proceeded toward Winthrop, a town some two miles distant.

He smiled at her continued silence, trying to think of a way to relax her. “This is the pair I most often drive in London. Steady as they come. Nothing disturbs them—carriage horns, sheep. I have had birds rise up under their noses, and they never broke stride. See what a smooth trot they have?” He allowed the pair to trot, and the increased speed caused a correlating decrease in Anne’s equilibrium.

“Please stop the carriage, my lord,” she whispered at length. “I must get down.” Before he could respond or reply she reached forward to grasp the reins in front of his hands and pulled back firmly. The horses, moving at an extended trot, were brought up short by this brutal usage. Both stopped almost immediately, the near one rearing onto his haunches in protest. Taken totally by surprise, Tenbury was busy for some moments in calming his outraged pair. He noticed only that Miss Waverly leaped from the carriage before it had completely stopped, forced her way through the hedges at the side of the road, and disappeared.

When the horses were finally quiet, Tenbury glanced in the direction Miss Waverly had gone. There was no sign of her.

“Miss Waverly,” he called, “Are you all right? I cannot leave the horses.”

When there was no answer, he called again, “Miss Waverly!”

“Give me but a moment, my lord.”

When she finally emerged from the hedges, she appeared even paler than before. She stopped at the side of the carriage, refusing to look at him. “With your permission, Lord Tenbury, I should like to walk back to the Castle.”

He had been prepared to rip up at her for mishandling his horses, but one look at her pale countenance drove all anger from him. “Why did you not tell me you suffered from motion sickness?”

“It is not the sort of thing one advertises.
How do you do. Carriages make me ill.
”

He smiled. “Of course not, but when I insisted, surely you could have said something.”

He jumped down from the curricle then and went to the horses’ heads. “Shall we walk on to Winthrop? It is only a little more than a mile, and I happen to know you are a vigorous walker.”

She took the free arm he offered her for support, and he led the team as they continued down the relatively deserted country lane. Occasionally they passed a farmer’s cart or a lone horseman, but if anyone thought it unusual for them to be walking when they had such a slap-up rig to drive, no one indicated as much. They only smiled or nodded as they went on their way.

“It is nothing to be ashamed of,” he said.

“Well, I
have
been ashamed of it. All my life.”

“You have been troubled always? Since  childhood?”

“Yes.”

“Children often outgrow carriage sickness.”

“It seems that I have not.”

“Were you afraid of carriages as a child?”

“Yes.”

“Are you afraid of them now?”

“Only when they are moving.”

He smiled. “And the day you arrived at Tenton, your illness then was due to the same thing?”

“Things were rather worse that day for I had not eaten.”

“Had not eaten that whole day?”

“I had not eaten for the entire trip.”

“What foolishness! Better to eat moderately and cast up your accounts if you must, than to starve yourself to the point of fainting. I believe you refine too much upon this. Nelson was sick at sea. I have seen men sick with fear before a battle and sick with horror afterward. Our bodies betray us from time to time. There is no cause for shame in that.”