Louise M. Gouge (10 page)

Still gazing at her with a look she could not decipher, the major nodded. “No longer a barking mastiff.”

“Tsk.” She shook her head. “Good night, Major Grenville.”

“Good night, Miss Newfield.”

Somehow she sensed he was watching as she walked away, so when she reached the turn in the hallway, she glanced back. Still soot covered, still leaning on his cane, still appearing wearier than she had ever seen him, he bowed to her.

And no matter how much she prayed or tried to reason away her unruly feelings, her pounding pulse kept her awake far into the night.

Chapter Fifteen

W
hen Edmond could barely rise from his bed the morning after the fire, Matthews urged him to plead sick and get a few days’ rest. He managed to abide by his batman’s advice for several hours until concern for Greystone’s health obliged him to visit the suite across the hall. Mother was there, of course, looking older than her years. But despite her somber mourning clothes, Miss Newfield’s serene presence brightened the room.

Greystone had suffered a relapse in the early morning hours and even now coughed sporadically. His pallor concerned Edmond but it did not alarm him. As one who had seen as many deaths by disease among his fellow soldiers as he had battlefield fatalities, he felt confident his eldest brother would not succumb to this illness. For that reason alone, he hoped for a moment alone with Greystone so he could convince him that the jests about Miss Newfield must cease.

But Greystone remained ill throughout the weekend. Mother of course rarely left his bedside, even when Edmond and the others attended church on Sunday. Already an unfashionably thin woman, she had lost weight, and her face had become gaunt. At last on Tuesday evening, Miss Newfield prevailed upon her to sleep in her own bed rather than the wingchair.

“I will watch him, my lady. You may depend upon it.” Compassion shone from her eyes, although Mother had never spoken a kind word to her.

After glaring at the young lady as if she’d been insulted, Mother grunted. “Very well.” She rose wearily and stepped over to the bed. She lifted one hand as if she would touch his face, but then dropped it to her side and strode from the room.

Edmond patted Miss Newfield’s shoulder. “You rest, too, dear lady.”

A raspy chuckle came from the bed, followed by a short bout of coughing. “And leave me to your rough ministrations, Edmond? No, the lady must stay, and you as well.” Greystone’s blue eyes, red-rimmed though they were, glinted with good humor.

Hands fisted at his waist, Edmond cast a wilting glare at him, which only brought forth more coughing laughter. “Should you not save your voice,
milord?
”

Miss Newfield looked from one to the other, settling her fair gaze at last on Edmond. “Major, I am well rested from my afternoon lie-down. You are the one who needs a good night of sleep.”

Fatigue taunted Edmond, daring him to surrender, but he fought it off. He had found nothing as healing as Miss Newfield’s company, and he would not leave her alone to deal with Greystone, even with Gilly hovering in the shadows. “I am hardier than I appear.”

“If you say so.” She moved to the bedside table to check the brazier and crush more peppermint into the teakettle. “My lord, would you care for more cough tonic?”

Greystone answered with a cough that sounded genuine. “I do find it helpful, not to mention tasty.” He accepted the golden liquid she poured in a spoon. “Edmond, you should try it. Its healing qualities are enhanced when administered by a lovely young lady.”

Even in the dimly lit room Edmond could see the blush coloring Miss Newfield’s cheeks, and he felt his own flush of anger. “Listen, brother—”

“My lord—”

The lady and Edmond spoke at the same time. Both stopped. He nodded to her. “Please continue.” Whatever she had to say would be better than his addressing the troubling issue with Greystone in her presence.

“I thank you, sir.” She returned the nod. “Shall I read to you, my lord?”

“Ah, ’twill be like hearing a song from on high.” Greystone looked at Edmond as he spoke.

“Oh, much better than that.” Miss Newfield found her Bible beside the brazier and sat in the wingchair, adjusting the small candelabra so its light illuminated the page. “’Tis the word of God Himself. I thought you would enjoy hearing the passage Mr. Partridge preached on this Sunday past…Psalm 1.”

Greystone’s face creased with comical confusion, and Edmond had to clench his jaw to keep from laughing. He doubted the lady had any idea of His Lordship’s spiritual condition, but Edmond had never observed in his eldest brother the same propensity for the scriptures Richard enjoyed.

“Why, uh, of course.” Greystone looked anything but pleased, yet he did not dismiss her offer. “Please proceed.”

As she opened the holy book, a gentle glow lit her face that had nothing to do with the candlelight. “Psalm 1. ‘Blessed is the man that walketh not in the counsel of the ungodly, nor standeth in the way of sinners, nor sitteth in the seat of the scornful. But his delight is in the law of the Lord; and in his law doth he meditate day and night.’”

While she continued to read, a strange feeling settled in Edmond’s chest. Peace. Assurance. Joy. A sense that he could do all things through Christ, whatever He bid him to do. Only once before had he felt this way. The night before the battle in which he had been wounded, Newfield had read this same Psalm to him and urged him to accept Christ’s salvation. After further discussion, the words of scripture Edmond had known all his life finally made sense. Newfield guided him in an earnest prayer, and Edmond felt the hand of God touch his soul with the assurance of eternal life.

Did Greystone have that same assurance? Or did his lifelong confidence, which often bordered on arrogance, come from his title and wealth and power? For the first time in his life, Edmond prayed for his brother’s salvation. Perhaps God would have him address that issue rather than the teasing so dangerous to Miss Newfield.

“’For the Lord knoweth the way of the righteous: but the way of the ungodly shall perish.’” Miss Newfield completed the psalm and closed her Bible.

The room went silent for several moments.

“Good words to ponder, Miss Newfield.” Greystone gave her a weary smile. “I thank you for reading. Now, you and my brother must retire. Gilly can attend me.”

“Yes, my lord.” Miss Newfield rose and touched the back of her hand to his forehead. “I believe you will rest well tonight.” She glided past Edmond. “Good night, Major.”

He glanced at Greystone. This would be the perfect time to talk to him, but his eyes were closed and his breathing quieter than it had been in many days. After a moment of indecision, Edmond’s stronger urge to speak with Miss Newfield propelled him after her. Once outside the door, he whispered her name.

“May I tell you something?”

She turned back and, as always, smiled. “Yes, Major, of course.”

“Like the man in the psalm, your brother was that tree planted by the rivers of water. I am just one of the many fruits of salvation the Lord brought forth—” he had meant to sound poetic, but emotion choked his words “—in the season of his godly life.”

In the dim candlelight shining from a wall sconce, he could see tears streaming down her cheeks. “I thank you, Major. Your words bring me much joy for two reasons. Peter was…has always been a faithful servant of God. And I rejoice to know of your salvation. Without the Lord, how can we live?”

“And yet, sadly, many people do.” Without meaning to, Edmond glanced toward Greystone’s door.

“Ah, but it is not too late. Let us agree to pray for him and—” She looked down.

“My mother?”

She gave a little shrug. “Again, good night, sir.”

Edmond watched her go, amazed but not surprised by her elegant carriage that belied her many wearying hours of vigil at Greystone’s bedside. He had noticed her slip, speaking of her brother in the past tense, then quickly correcting herself. So she did doubt Newfield still lived. It grieved Edmond to see her face this reality. He grieved even more that he could do nothing to help her, as she so often helped him.

* * *

Rising early the next morning, Anna dressed and went to Lady Greystone’s room, where Mrs. Hudson informed her their employer was still sleeping. They agreed she should not be awakened. Anna’s next stop was Lord Greystone’s room, where Gilly reported His Lordship was still sleeping and had slept well all night.

With this good news, she made her way downstairs to the breakfast room. The footman welcomed her as the first one down and set a steaming plate of eggs and sausages before her. She had barely tasted the delicious fare when Mr. and Mrs. Grenville entered the room. The clergyman greeted her with a nod and a slight smile, but as always, his wife ignored her. Anna sighed to herself. How nice it would be to have a friend to chat with. But clearly this woman found her insignificant. Major Grenville had told her Mrs. Grenville’s uncle was Lord Egmont, a baron whose title bore an ancient patent. Anna supposed that gave her some claim to pride, but it was all beyond her understanding. To ward off the hurt trying to worm its way into her heart, she prayed Mrs. Grenville would have an easy delivery. The event must surely be imminent.

Major Grenville arrived moments later looking refreshed and handsome in his uniform. His hearty “good morning” rang throughout the room, causing even the footman to smile. “Another very fine, very cold day.” He waved away the footman and helped himself to the breakfast buffet, greeting his brother and sister-in-law as he sat beside Anna at the table.

“Well, Miss Newfield, shall we ride today?”

Anna almost choked on her sausage but managed to swallow. “I would think it’s too cold for the horses to be out and about.”

He traded a look with his brother, and they both chuckled. “Not at all. That’s why they grow those shaggy coats…to keep them warm in the winter. I know Brutus appreciates a good gallop in this weather.”

Anna swallowed hard. “Gallop?” Her appetite fled, and her heart raced at more than a gallop.

Mr. Grenville snickered. “Well, now you’ve done it, Edmond. You have frightened the poor girl out of her wits.”

Anna could see the sour expression on Mrs. Grenville’s face but could comprehend no reason for it. Had she stepped out of her place as Lady Greystone’s companion by responding to the gentleman? Was the lady cross because her husband had noticed Anna’s alarm? How did one go about sorting these things out?

At the first opportunity, she must ask the major more about her duties. In the three weeks she had been in this house, she had yet to receive any real instructions. It was frustrating not knowing what to do when it seemed she had been very much needed in more than one instance.

“Never fear, Miss Newfield.” The major reclaimed her attention. “I will have George give Bella a good run before our riding lesson. Then she’ll be ready to settle down for a nice trot.”

“I thank you, sir.” Although she looked forward to being out with him, her body ached when she recalled her last jarring ride. Nonetheless, she drank another cup of steaming coffee before excusing herself to go upstairs and change into her riding habit. Before she could reach into her wardrobe for the garment, she looked out her window and her heart lilted happily. Surely the major would not insist they go riding in the snow flurries now swirling over the landscape. Perhaps they could find something to do indoors.

A tap on her door interrupted her thoughts and she opened it to find the major outside, resplendent in his crimson uniform and dashing black cape. Suddenly, a ride in the snow seemed just the thing. “Oh, dear. Please give me another moment to change.”

“We will postpone our lesson, Miss Newfield.” His eyes seemed to reflect the disappointment she now felt. “The horses must be exercised, but I would not wish for you to catch a chill.”

“But, I—” At that moment, the warmth of his company seemed sufficient to keep her from that danger.

“Please trust me in this.” He squeezed her forearm. “We’ll have another day to ride.”

“Yes, of course.” As she watched him depart, Anna felt an icy draft down her back. Perhaps he was right. It would be foolish to risk illness.

With no orders from Lady Greystone, she snuggled into her woolen shawl and spent the afternoon reading, then dozing and dreaming of a gallant dragoon on horseback with his cape swirling behind him in the wind. Someone was screaming for his help. Screeching, really. The sound echoed in Anna’s ears and filled her with alarm.

Shaking off sleep, throwing off her shawl, she dashed into the hallway to find Lady Greystone emerging from her chambers. Wordlessly, they hurried toward the west wing where they met Mr. Grenville, whose eyes were wide with alarm.

“The child is coming!”

Chapter Sixteen

A
nother scream split the air. Mr. Grenville cringed.

“Really, Richard.” Lady Greystone scowled toward his room. “Can she not bear it with more fortitude? Her screeching will hinder Greystone’s recovery.”

Anna had no fear of that, for the viscount, though still weak, continued to improve. But of course she could not correct her employer.

Mr. Grenville sighed. “Madam, if you can quiet her, you will be working a wonder.”

As if to punctuate his claim, Mrs. Grenville screamed for him to return immediately.

He ran a hand through his unkempt hair and looked at Anna. “Do you know where Major Grenville is?”

“He is exercising the horses.”

“Richard, see to your wife. Newfield.” Lady Greystone glared at Anna in her customary way. “Send a footman to find Major Grenville. Have him fetch the village midwife.”

“Yes, my lady.” Anna hurried toward the stairway to complete the task.

“Newfield.”

Anna stopped so quickly she almost tripped over the edge of the carpet runner. “Yes, my lady?”

“Have you attended a lying-in?”

“Yes, my lady.” Several years ago, when Anna realized she would spend her life as a spinster, she had begun to assist the village midwife whenever possible so that she might observe the wonder of childbirth. Each time she held a newborn infant she longed for one of her own, but doubted that would ever be. Without a dowry she could not expect any gentleman to seek her hand.

“Then hurry back and see if you can quiet Mary.” Lady Greystone strode toward Lord Greystone’s room.

Although Anna doubted she could accomplish that last task, she made quick work of finding a footman and sending him on his way. She asked Cook to boil water and Mrs. Hudson to bring cloths and a pair of sharp scissors. When the lady’s maid brought the items, Anna tried to enlist her help.

“Oh, miss, I cannot think of doing it. I’d be useless.”

Her answer shocked Anna. “Have there been no children born here? What about—”

“I’ve been with Lady Greystone for over twenty years.” Mrs. Hudson gave her an apologetic grimace. “She had already borne her sons and…” Her words died out.

“Of course.” Anna gave her a quick hug, which the woman must be getting used to, for she returned the gesture. “Then your duty will be to pray for an easy delivery.”

“Thank you, miss. I will.”

With a prayer that Major Grenville would make haste to complete his errand, Anna clutched her supplies and made her way to the Grenvilles’ room, which she discovered was a suite similar to Lord Greystone’s and Lady Greystone’s. In the bedchamber Mrs. Grenville thrashed about on the bed, alternately pulling her husband closer and shoving him away. Her usually well-groomed hair lay in wet strings across the white pillow.

“What is she doing here?” The lady ground out the question between groans and glared at Anna much as Lady Greystone did.

“Shh, my darling.” Mr. Grenville brushed wet strands of hair from his wife’s forehead with a damp cloth. “She is here to help.”

The lady shot a poisonous look at Anna, then emitted another scream. “Then get over here and help me.”

Anna obeyed, but had no idea what to do at this point. Her previous experience had been limited to watching the event and washing the newborn and—a memory interrupted her silent excuses. “Mr. Grenville, please go outside and fetch a large bowl of freshly fallen snow.”

The poor man seemed happy to escape, for he did not even grab a coat before dashing out the door. His wife cried after him to no avail.

Anna searched her memories for other helpful ideas. Even though the lady seemed to despise her, she must find a way to assist.

“I am dying.” The last word hung in the air like a cry of defeat.

Anna moved to the bedside and grasped her hand. “You will not die, Mrs. Grenville. Babies have been born since Eve’s first son.”

“You know nothing about it.” She snatched her hand back. “You are a spinster.”

“That is true, madam.” Try though she might, Anna could not deflect the sting of the sharp words. She had noticed a tender side of this woman, but only when she spoke with others in the Grenville family. While Anna found contentment in knowing Christ loved her, she had to admit that she missed the human affection ever present in her own family, the reassuring words that made the darkest day bright.

After many long minutes of enduring Mrs. Grenville’s abuse, Anna decided that the poor women of Blandon bore their children with far fewer complaints than this aristocrat. But she dismissed the uncharitable thought. Perhaps this pampered lady had never before faced real pain.

At last Mr. Grenville returned with the snow. Anna instructed him to spoon it to his wife to slake her thirst. In time Mrs. Mullin arrived and sent Mr. Grenville out with orders not to return until called, much to Mrs. Grenville’s displeasure. Anna noticed that the lady also used a harsh tone with the midwife. Oddly, it helped to salve her bruised feelings.

Just before the clocks chimed midnight the child made her entrance into the world, howling lustily in complaint. While Anna bathed and wrapped the infant, the midwife tended the exhausted mother. Holding the precious new life, Anna’s heart seemed to melt within her. Surely her emotions showed on her face, for Mrs. Mullin tilted her head toward the door and grinned.

“Well, go on, girl. Show the father his new daughter.”

Entrusted with the treasure, Anna walked carefully into the suite’s sitting room to find Mr. Grenville pacing anxiously and Major Grenville reclining on a settee. But at her appearance the two men rushed toward her, their faces wearing identical expressions of jubilation.

“Is he all right?” Mr. Grenville’s hands fluttered over the baby as if he wanted to hold her but was afraid.

His question gave Anna pause, yet she had no choice but to tell him. “Your
daughter
is perfect in every way, sir.” She held the baby out to him and even moved toward him when he stepped back.

“A girl?” Major Grenville’s voice and eyes filled with wonder as he inspected the infant’s tiny face. “I have a niece, a beautiful niece.” He clapped his brother on the shoulder. “Come now,
Papá,
don’t be shy. She will think you don’t like her.”

Mr. Grenville chuckled nervously. “Oh, no, not at all. I fear I will be her slave. But what if I drop her?”

Anna laughed. Giggled, actually. “You won’t. The biggest danger is that you will hold her so securely, you may squeeze too hard.” She transferred the infant to her father and stepped back to watch them bond.

“Richard!” Mrs. Grenville’s shriek was nearly as loud as before she gave birth. Her husband hurried into the bedchamber, carrying their child as if she were a crystal vase.

“Well, Miss Newfield.” Major Grenville patted her shoulder. “Once again you have been the calm in the midst of chaos.” His face shone with approval.

Through a haze of sudden tears she gazed up at his gentle smile, and her heart skipped. “You give me too much credit, sir.”

“Not at all.” His hand remained on her shoulder, which both comforted and unnerved her. “Now you must retire. Who knows when another crisis will come and you’ll be called upon to rescue us from it?”

Anna rolled her eyes, but his words did much to lighten her weariness. “Should I not see if Lady Greystone needs me?”

“She has been abed these past three hours. And before you ask, Greystone is resting as well.” He patted her shoulder again. “Go.”

“Very well, Major.” Anna managed a curtsey before walking toward the door. She could not resist another glance in his direction and found him gazing at her with that undecipherable look she had seen before. While her heart longed to grant some significance to it, she dared not.

* * *

“A girl.” Mother sat at the breakfast table idly thumbing through the mail. “The first female born to a Grenville for five generations.”

Disapproval colored her tone, but Edmond felt anything but disappointed. His niece had entirely enchanted him, and he would happily spend his life spoiling her.

“Now, Mother, please don’t say anything to Richard when he comes down. Who can order a son or daughter at will?” Taking a bite of eggs, he glanced at Miss Newfield, who seemed to be giving her plate an unusual amount of attention. “After all, you were born a girl.” He sent his mother an impish grin, hoping against all odds to lighten her mood.

“Oh, yes.” Her humorless laugh carried a world of acrimony. “My father’s only child and a bitter disappointment to him simply for being a girl.” She clamped her mouth shut, and her eyes widened briefly. She snatched up a letter and slid a silver opener beneath its red seal. “A woman has the responsibility to provide a son to carry on her husband’s name. Should Greystone fail to produce his own heir, Richard has the responsibility to do so. And Mary, of course. A daughter is a luxury. An expensive luxury.”

Edmond’s heart constricted. Lord Brownhall, the sole grandparent he and his brothers had known, died many years ago, but he remembered a jolly old man. Perhaps three grandsons had more than compensated him for the perceived burden of a daughter. Could his treatment of that daughter lie at the root of Mother’s bitter view of the world?

“Ah, good news at last.” She held up the vellum letter. “Grenville will not be coming after all. It seems the weather is a bit much for the old codger to travel in.”

Once again Edmond’s heart stilled. Uncle Grenville was his only hope for escaping the army. His only hope for becoming a barrister. If his healing continued and he could ride with sufficient competence, Mother would use her considerable influence to send him back to fight in America. He remembered Miss Newfield’s confession that she admired the Americans for fighting for their freedom from the Crown. Perhaps when Mother demanded his return to the army, he would find the courage to declare his independence from her. But then, it would also be the day he took his first step on the road to ruin. Mother’s money and her extensive influence in London could mean he would never begin a law career.

Bitterness threaded through Edmond and he could not, would not try to stop it. Why should he pay for the mistakes his grandfather had made in raising his daughter?

Eyeing the lady beside him, he pondered how Miss Newfield might regard this revelation concerning her employer’s girlhood. Without doubt, he believed she would pity the once beautiful woman whose father had treated her so meanly, unlike Mr. Newfield, whose generous upbringing of
his
daughter had created such a loving, giving servant of Christ.

Should Edmond ever be blessed with offspring, either daughters or sons, he knew which father he would attempt to emulate.