Authors: Jillian Hart
Whit had contributed the linens that draped the altar and the gold plate used for communion as well as an organ, which had recently been installed. Now the sound of the pipes rolled through the chapel, setting the Reverend Mr. Battersea to grinning as he took his place at the lectern, wispy white hair in direct contrast with his practical silver-rimmed spectacles.
With the Duke of Bellington not yet returned and the Rotherfords on their honeymoon, Whit and his guests made up most of the aristocracy in attendance. He spotted Lord Hascot on the opposite wall, gaze steadfast on the vicar as Mr. Battersea led the congregation through the service.
Normally, Whit paid particular attention to the lesson, looking for insights he could apply to his life. Today, the reading was in First Samuel and started with a mother's prayer of thanksgiving for what God had done for her. For some reason, the words felt emotional, speaking of a joy he couldn't recall feeling. His gaze was drawn down the pew, where Ruby stood beside her father.
While the other women worshipped with backs stiff and gazes raised, her head was bowed. One gloved hand rubbed against the other before her wine-colored pelisse, as if she were trying to wash away some concern. She seemed to be truly touched by the words. Had she, like Hannah in the reading, found a fervent prayer answered? Or had she some problem that required divine intervention even now?
Her heartfelt look remained on his mind as the service ended.
The others were making for the carriages, which waited just outside the churchyard in the summer sun, and Whit found himself beside Ruby. Her head was still bowed; only her chin showed below the lace edge of her bonnet.
“Fascinating flagstones,” he offered with a tap of his toe against the path through the churchyard. “And nicely flat, too.”
She glanced up at him with a smile, but he couldn't help noticing the gleam in her eyes, like a stream that had flowed over mossy rocks.
“What's troubling you, Ruby?” he asked.
In answer, she caught his hand and pulled him off the path and among the tombstones. Whit had been in any number of churchyards where the chest-high slabs leaned at precarious angles, but the grave markers at Saint Andrew's stood as firm as the convictions of its congregation.
Ruby's convictions, however, seemed to be wavering. “I'm sure what I'm going to say is too forward or too personal or will break some rule of Society I never learned, but if I don't confide it soon I think I will explode!”
Whit felt his brows rising. “I'm honored you'd consider confiding such a thought to me.”
She shook her head, then had to reach up and readjust her bonnet. “You may change your mind once you hear me out. Tell me, do you think God cares about us individually or more as a group?”
Whatever he had been expecting it was hardly that. “I hadn't thought to question the matter,” he confessed.
“That's entirely the problem!” She set about pacing back and forth between the stones. “I didn't attend services when I was younger. Even the church hesitates to set foot in Wapping. I always thought God was an infinite being who guided the affairs of nations.” She waved at the sky, then stopped and glared at Whit. “But today, that reading. It seemed to me He answered a very personal prayer, what some would say was a self-seeking prayer. Why?”
Whit adjusted his cravat, shifting on his feet, and still found it difficult to meet that outraged gaze. She acted as if someone had kept an important truth from her, as if even the church had lied. “I wouldn't presume to guess the Lord's purpose.”
She threw up her hands. “But if He does care about each of us, shouldn't we so presume? Shouldn't we ask what He expects of us?”
The question hung in the air, and he felt humbled. All his life, he'd done his dutyâstepping into his father's shoes at fifteen, managing the estates, attending Parliament, helping the less fortunate. He'd taken it for granted that that was the sum of expectations placed upon him, and they were heavy enough some days. He had asked the Lord for wisdom, for help. Yet when had he asked what the Lord expected?
“Yes, Ruby,” he said, meeting her gaze solemnly. “We should. Thank you for reminding me of that.”
Pink brightened her cheeks as she dropped her hands. “I didn't mean that to sound like a scold. I was just trying to reason it out. This place, all this grandeurâ” now her wave encompassed the hills, the river and the church “âmakes you think about your place in the scheme of things.”
He chuckled. “I fear sometimes it has the opposite effect on me. When I'm at Fern Lodge, I often forget my place in the larger world.”
Ruby linked arms with him and drew him back to the path. “And then you found yourself surrounded by guests, including an impertinent chit who demands answers to impossible questions.”
With her smiling up at him again, no question seemed too large. Yet the very idea of discussing his feelings on religious matters raised a wall inside him. He was actually glad to see Henrietta's father approaching through the thinning crowds.
“What about fishing this afternoon?” Mr. Stokely-Trent asked, stopping before Whit and Ruby and rubbing his large hands together before his fine green coat. “I've been itching for a chance at the Bell. I've heard it's second only to the Dove for trout.”
Pride forced the answer from Whit's mouth. “I find the Bell preferable.”
Ruby smiled as if she knew why.
“Preferable?” Stokely-Trent said, face lighting. “Excellent! Perhaps we three gentlemen should take the opportunity, now that the ladies seem to be getting along better.”
Three gentlemen? Last time he'd checked, there were four men staying at Fern Lodge, counting himself. As if she recognized the slight to her father, Ruby drew herself up.
Whit moved to intervene. “I'd be delighted to share the stream with any of my guests who are interested,” he said, eyeing Stokely-Trent. “Gentlemen as well as ladies.”
The fellow laughed. “Ladies, eh? Excellent jest, Danning.”
“Didn't your daughter express an interest in learning to fish, sir?” Ruby put in, far too innocently.
His look darkened. “Henrietta was merely being polite to express interest in a gentleman's pastime. My daughter does not fish.”
“Pity,” Whit said with a wink to Ruby. “And what of you, Ruby? Would you care to join us?”
Stokely-Trent's mouth opened and closed. Whit had seen a similar look on the face of the fish he caught. Then the fellow glanced at Whit and snapped his mouth shut.
At least Henrietta's father was making an attempt to be polite. As if Ruby thought so, too, she smiled at them both. “Sadly, no. The Barnsley School for Young Ladies did not extend its curriculum to the fine art of fishing.”
Whit smiled back, but Stokely-Trent frowned. “Barnsley School, you say?”
“Miss Hollingsford is a graduate, I believe,” Whit supplied, feeling a sense of pride in her accomplishments.
“Two years ago,” Ruby confirmed.
“Excellent school,” Stokely-Trent said with a nod of approval. “I was hoping they'd take Henrietta, but she had other ideas.” He glanced to where his daughter was chatting with Charles, her face alight as the breeze pulled a strand of her dark hair free from her velvet hat. “Still does.”
“Your daughter is a well-informed woman,” Whit offered. “She is a credit to you.”
He puffed himself up to his usual bluster, chest swelling in his green-patterned waistcoat. “Yes, she is. I'm glad you noticed, my lord. I'd feared your cousin had stolen a march on you.” He laughed as if the very idea was a great joke.
Whit could feel Ruby watching him. Did she think he was intent on pursuing the bluestocking? Clearly Stokely-Trent hoped to hear such a confession, for he was watching Whit, too.
Whit inclined his head. “I cannot blame your daughter for seeing Charles's many excellent qualities,” he told Stokely-Trent. “He is loyal, good-natured and well mannered.”
Ruby snorted. “You make your cousin sound like a well-trained spaniel, sir! He is also handsome, witty and charming.”
Surely Charles could not have captured her heart! Whit peered closer, but she had already turned to Henrietta's father. “And he is certainly intelligent enough to have seen the diamond in your daughter, sir,” she added.
Stokely-Trent scowled at her. She'd put him in a difficult position, and Whit thought she knew it. The man could not disparage Charles without making it seem as if he maligned his daughter, as well.
“I shall look forward to fishing, my lord,” he said instead with a nod that barely included Ruby. Then he turned and strode to his carriage, ushered his wife and daughter into their coach and shut the door in Charles's face.
Whit shook his head. “And just when I thought everyone was getting along nicely.”
“It's plain he wants a title for her,” Ruby explained. Then she grinned at him. “A shame you're not allowed to loan your cousin yours.”
She clearly meant it for a joke, but Whit could not help his sigh as his cousin ambled toward them. “A very great shame, Ruby. I assure you, there are times when, if I could short of dying, I'd give him my entire inheritance!”
Chapter Twelve
R
uby had call to remember those words the next day on their trip to Castleton. That Sunday afternoon, the men had indeed abandoned the others for a couple of hours, leaving Ruby, Lady Amelia, Henrietta and the respective mothers to sit on the veranda sipping lemonade, reading, listening to the birds call from the trees and peering down at the gentlemen as they fished.
Of the four fellows, Whit moved with the greatest confidence, picking his spot with care and casting his line with his usual grace. Ruby counted at least four fish he brought to shore. The men returned sun-reddened and laughing, their lines hung with trout, which Whit's chef cooked for dinner.
“Had I realized you might actually catch so many fish,” Ruby teased Whit over the succulent dinner, “I'd have been more tempted to try fishing myself.”
“What did you think our purpose, Miss Hollingsford?” Charles Calder asked with a perplexed smile from across the table.
Ruby grinned. “Exercise, Mr. Calder. Until today, most of what I've seen you all do is throw string at the water!”
They all laughed at that. Indeed, it was a merry evening with Charles and Henrietta leading a reading from one of Shakespeare's comedies, and everyone taking a part. Ruby found herself sharing a smile with Whit when Mr. Stokely-Trent boomed out a line only to be outdone by Lady Wesworth's enthusiastic performance.
Indeed, sharing her thoughts with Whit had never been easier. It seemed everyone knew that a proposal had been made and refused, which put her out of the running as a candidate for his wife. Henrietta appeared to be developing an affection for Charles, for she seldom left his side. And Lady Wesworth no longer felt the need to thrust her daughter forward, as it was clear she was the only lady left to win Whit's heart.
Had the roles been reversed, Ruby wondered what she would have done. If she had never given her heart to Phillip only to see him crush it, would she be willing to sit beside Whit, fluttering her lashes? To show off her skills for him so that he would see her as the woman to manage his home, bear his children?
She nearly snorted aloud. That would mean she'd actually have to have excelled at some of the arts Society expected from a wife besides managing a staff. But she'd never particularly cared for the playing of music, the singing of a country air, or painting imitations of flowers onto firescreens. While pleasant to observe on occasion, the pastimes seemed rather pointless. Give her action any day!
Whit did not seem to agree, for he smiled as he helped with the reading, then applauded Lady Amelia's sweet rendition of a popular hymn that ended the night. As the ladies excused themselves and started for the door, he rose to intercept Ruby.
“Are you all right?” he murmured, frown settling on his face.
He'd removed his hat while fishing, and she could see fine lines at the corners of his eyes where the sun had kissed him.
“It was a relaxing afternoon,” Ruby assured him.
He hesitated a moment, then lowered his voice further. “I found our talk after service much on my mind. I feel as if you expected more from my answer.”
Ruby shook her head with a laugh. “I can hardly expect you to answer a question to which there may be no answer.”
Again he hesitated, and she wondered what he found so difficult to say. Was he, too, struggling to understand this new concept of God? Or did he think her foolish for even considering such matters?
Then he straightened, once more the charming host. “I hope nothing further troubled you about our adventure yesterday,” he said.
Ah, the obligatory asking after health. She stomped her feet against the carpet. “Hale and hearty, my lord. You need have no fears.”
His smile hitched up. “I'm glad to hear it. I can't help thinking another lady might still be abed from her exertions.”
Lady Amelia came immediately to mind. “And what of you?” Ruby asked. “Are your ribs healed from your accident at Hollyoak Farm?”
He stretched as if to make sure, and she was suddenly aware of the breadth of his shoulders, the length of his arms. “I can reasonably say that I've returned to my usual health.”
Which was rather good health at that, Ruby thought, then blushed at the impertinent thought. “Then I'm sure you'll acquit yourself well on our trip tomorrow.”
He took her hand and bowed over it, his grip sure. “I look forward to it, Ruby.”
With her fingers tingling in his, she found herself looking forward to it, as well.
Indeed, it was an eager group who assembled before the carriages the next morning after breakfast. The sun shone down from a cloudless sky, as if the Lord was giving His blessing to the event. The gentlemen in their navy coats and fawn trousers, their boots spotless and cravats immaculate, looked as if they were ready to call upon the Prince Regent himself.
Ruby had chosen one of her few white muslin gowns but covered it with her favorite pelisseâa sky-blue twill lined with dun satin, with puffed sleeves inset with lace and a lace collar that ran in a deep V front and back. The satin ribbons wrapping her high-crowned bonnet were the same shade of blue, and the lace at her hem just covered her practical half boots.
The distance they were to go made taking one carriage impossible. Ruby had hoped that Whit might join her in her father's carriage, but Lady Wesworth had other ideas, as usual.
“You will ride with us, Danning,” she said, offering him her hand to escort her to the closed travel coach.
Whit's mouth quirked, but he put out his arm. “An honor, Lady Wesworth. Lady Amelia, if I may?” He held out his other arm as well, and the blonde beauty simpered as he led her to the waiting carriage.
Ruby bit back a sigh. She had refused his suit. She must not allow herself to mind when another lady saw his worth.
“I fear you will have to make do with the cadet branch, Miss Hollingsford,” his cousin said, offering her his arm.
Ruby smiled at him. “Cadet? Surely a captain at least, sir.”
“Perhaps major general,” he said with an answering smile.
Ruby glanced to where Lady Amelia had invited Henrietta to join them, to the obvious chagrin of Lady Wesworth. “Surely you would prefer to ride with Miss Stokely-Trent,” she told Charles.
He followed Ruby's gaze, and she thought his arm slumped just the slightest. “The marchioness's travel coach will only seat four.” As if he knew how that might sound, he immediately patted her hand. “And aren't I a lucky fellow to have been forced to ride with the reigning beauty as a result?”
It was a nice response, but for once it seemed utterly hollow. Had the flirt truly developed deeper feelings for Henrietta? As the Stokely-Trent parents climbed into their own carriage, Ruby let Charles Calder help her into hers. She was a little surprised when he took the seat next to her, leaving her father to sit opposite.
“I've told Davis to start out slowly,” her father explained, “and to make sure to keep the other coaches in view.”
And so the cavalcade set off. The road led over the stone bridge below the Lodge and out of the Dale to travel south along narrow country lanes. Trees crowded on either side, heavy from the recent rains. Once in a while branches brushed the carriage tops, sprinkling water down the glass. Through the sheen, Ruby could see tall spikes of flowers blooming in the grasslands, purple and white. Wooden bridges spanned the little rivers, and stone walls crusted with moss marked property lines.
“You wouldn't know it,” Mr. Calder supplied as they came out onto a flatter expense of pastureland, where sheep grazed among the green, “but there's a stone quarry just beyond.” He leaned closer to point to a dip in the ground, and a flowery smell wafted past Rubyâhis cologne perhaps? She kept her gaze on the window.
“Do you know this area well, Mr. Calder?” she asked.
“Only around Fern Lodge,” he said, making no effort to move away from her. “Like Danning, I've been coming here to fish since I was a boy.” He nudged her shoulder with his own. “And like Danning, surely you can call me by my first name.”
She truly wasn't willing to pursue that intimacy, so she was glad when her father spoke up across from them.
“Interesting your family should own the Lodge,” he said. “I'd have thought the land belonged to the Duke of Bellington, given that it's such prime acreage along the river and so close to Bellweather Hall.”
“It does belong to the duke,” he said, leaning back at last and allowing Ruby to breathe easier. “The current duke's grandfather and ours were great friends growing up, and he granted our family a hundred-year lease on the Lodge as a wedding present.”
“Odd wedding present,” Ruby said with a frown. “It seems to be an entirely male bastion, a place for you all to escape.”
“Indeed it is, my dear Ruby.” His fatuous smile said he had taken it for granted she had agreed to allow him to use her first name, as well. “And if you had ever met my grandmother, you would know exactly why my grandfather required an escape.”
Ruby shook her head at his audacity, but her father laughed.
Charles continued his attempts to be witty as the carriage rolled south past cozy stone cottages. Ruby tried to enjoy his company, but she couldn't help comparing him to Whit. He might be handsome and charming, but he seemed to lack substance, depth. By the time they stopped to rest the horses just outside Chapel-en-le-Frith, she had lost patience with him.
She was thankful that Lady Amelia requested her and Henrietta's company to stroll along the road looking at wildflowers. Lady Amelia seemed to have bloomed during the carriage ride in Whit's presence, for she held her lace-edged confection of a parasol over her head and gave it a twirl. She made a very pretty picture in her muslin gown, and Ruby could see that the gentlemen had noticed by the glances they cast the lady's way.
“You seem to have captured Danning's attention,” Henrietta said to Lady Amelia as they paused before a patch of purple and blue flowers that somehow reminded Ruby of Whit's eyes.
Lady Amelia blushed. “He is very kind. But I'm not sure we will suit.”
Ruby's brows shot up. “Why ever not?”
“You really are the most outspoken woman,” Henrietta said as Lady Amelia's color deepened, and Ruby couldn't tell whether the bluestocking was annoyed or envious.
“Perhaps I am,” Ruby replied. “But I see a very fine man in Lord Danning, and I cannot understand why you would think the two of you would not suit, and on remarkably short acquaintance.”
Lady Amelia regarded her with a frown. In the shade of her parasol, her eyes looked more slate than blue. “How odd, Miss Hollingsford. You already determined the two of you would not suit, and on nearly as short an acquaintance, I believe.”
Now it was Ruby's turn to blush. “You're right, of course. But we both know there are reasons why a match between Lord Danning and the daughter of a jeweler would be inadvisable. There exists no such impediment between the two of you.”
Lady Amelia cocked her head. “Are you counseling me to pursue him, Miss Hollingsford?”
She should say that. They were aligned in social status; in fact, marrying Lady Amelia might even give Whit a boost in society, as her father's title was higher than his. She'd already decided Lady Amelia was a sweet person, and no one could complain about her looks. By all accounts, she and Whit would be an excellent match.
But something kept her from answering.
“And what is that lovely flower, Henrietta?” Charles asked, coming up beside them. “It puts me in mind of little cups on a stick.”
“Foxglove,” Henrietta supplied readily, turning to beam at him. “The Latin name is
digitalis,
and the plant has been extracted to help cure heart palpitations.”
“How perfect,” he said, leaning closer to her as if
she
were the most perfect thing he could see at the moment. “For I find my heart positively pulsing every time I am near you.”
Ruby rolled her eyes, but Lady Amelia put a hand to her mouth as if to keep from laughing.
However annoying Charles Calder might be, it was Whit's behavior that most amused Ruby as she returned to the larger group waiting by the carriages. He moved among his guests, asking after their health and enjoyment, offering encouragement and suggestions. And somehow, when the carriages set off again, Ruby found him sitting beside her.
She couldn't stop the frission of pleasure at the sight of him. “And what have you done with your cousin?” she asked as the carriage turned for the east toward Castleton.
“Allowed him to ride where he will be most appreciated,” Whit replied, leaning back against the squabs as if well satisfied with himself.
“You will have to pay for this later,” Ruby predicted with a shake of her head.
“Very likely,” he agreed, tipping his top hat down so he could rest his head, as well. “But at the moment, I find I cannot care. Besides, I have a duty to all my guests, not just those in the other coaches.”
Duty. Was that what she was to him, another task to be performed, another role to be fulfilled? Immediately she chided herself. She hadn't wanted to be a candidate in this wife campaign. She should be glad he wasn't here to pursue her.
But she had to own she enjoyed the second half of the drive more than the first. Whit pointed out places of interest, such as enclosed farms near Sackhall, the stone fences marking off the territory of each tenant, and the rising behemoth of Mam Tor that dwarfed the rest of the countryside. He chatted with her and her father about the usefulness of the Exchange, the need for reforms in the House of Lords and the role of women in the Courts of Law. She was surprised when she felt the coach slowing.
Ruby looked out the window. It was as if the countryside had shrugged, green hillocks bumping up on either side and rising in the distance. The coach had pulled into the muddy yard of a farmstead that was tucked against the side of one such hill. The gray stone cottage had windows that sparkled in the summer sun as if in greeting.