Louise M. Gouge (7 page)

Chapter Ten

“G
ood morning, Miss Newfield.” Major Grenville gave Anna a jovial smile, one that lacked the caution he displayed in the presence of his family. He stood beside Bella, but behind him the slender young groom held two more horses. “Are you ready to ride out into the countryside?”

While her heart did a nervous tumble, she tried to match his cheeriness. “Yes, by all means. I was beginning to think we would continue to circle this fountain all winter. Lovely as it is, I should like to see more of the countryside before the autumn colors fade.” She stopped abruptly, wondering why so many words seemed to roll off her tongue unbidden.

But the major laughed in a rather carefree manner. “Well, come along, then. I have a bit of instruction for you before we go out.”

He lifted her into the saddle with his usual ease, but today his grip on her waist sent a shiver up her spine. Or maybe it was the brisk breeze. Either way, she must hasten to dismiss the sensation so she could concentrate on his instructions.

“Thus far, you have kept an excellent seat, but we’ve only walked.” He adjusted her left foot in the stirrup and helped her drape her right knee over the pommel.

Anna forced away the pleasant sensation his touch created. After all, she was not one of those giddy schoolgirls who had eyed him so adoringly yesterday. And last night she had prayed she might grasp the reins of her emotions just as securely as she now grasped Bella’s reins and take charge of her feelings. She must not mistake the gentleman’s kindness for anything more than a performance of his duties.

“We won’t try anything faster than a trot,” the major was saying. “But it is perhaps the most challenging of the gaits to become accustomed to.”

Anna emitted an involuntary and altogether too squeaky laugh, and her face heated despite the cutting breeze. “Oh, dear. I shall do my best.”

“You’ll do splendidly.” Major Grenville lifted one hand as if he were about to pat her knee. But his eyes widened. He withdrew the hand and cleared his throat. “Be sure to stay in the center of the saddle. You’ve done well at that for walking, but now you’ll need to concentrate. Remember to keep your left heel down, look ahead and let your seat move with Bella.”

“So much to remember.” Anna blew out a deep breath. “But I’m ready.”

“You can do it.” The major grimaced. “I fear I am a poor teacher. Before you begin to trot, I must tell you how to slow or stop your horse.”

Another nervous giggle escaped her. “Yes, I suppose that would help.”

“This is important. You must sit back and pull gently on the reins. Not too hard, or you’ll hurt her mouth.” He grinned. “Got all of that?”

She snorted in a most unladylike way. “Oh, of course I do.” She was becoming entirely too comfortable in the major’s presence.

“That’s the spirit. Let’s give it a try. You can take a turn or two around the fountain.” The major waved the groom forward.

The man secured the other horses to a post and came to stand beside Bella’s head.

“You’ll forgive me if I don’t—” The major’s cheeks appeared slightly pinched, as if he were suddenly embarrassed.

“Of course.” Anna’s heart went out to him. These exercises could not be easy on his injured leg. “George, shall we do it?” She bolstered her courage with yet another deep breath and gave the groom a nod.

“Aye, miss, that we shall.” The groom clicked his tongue and off they went.

At first they walked. Then George picked up his pace, keeping a grip on Bella’s bridle. Soon he was loping, the mare trotting, and Anna bouncing hard against the saddle, trying with all her might not to cry out.

“Keep to the center of the saddle,” the major called. “Sit tall. Press your left leg against the girth to steady yourself.”

Determined not to fail him, Anna forced herself to work with Bella’s bouncing gait. After all, what other young woman in her situation had the opportunity to learn from one of His Majesty’s cavalry officers? And what was the worst that could happen?

Before she could answer her own foolish attempt at humor, the major cried out.

“Huzzah, Miss Newfield! I do believe you’ve got it.”

Indeed, she did. No longer bouncing against the saddle, she was moving in unison with dear little Bella. And laughing with the sheer joy of it. Most important, she had won. She had conquered her fear. At least for today.

“Shall we ride out?” The major untied his horse and, with the groom’s assistance, mounted the fine black beast, which he called Brutus. “Are you ready?”

He reined Brutus toward the long drive that led to the main road. Anna urged Bella up beside him. To her relief, they walked along the lane at a leisurely pace. From time to time one of the horses would nicker or blow out a breath, and the other would answer. Behind them the groom hummed a merry tune.

As long as they walked, she settled into the saddle and surveyed the scenery. The air held a hint of smoke, no doubt from breakfast fires in the distant cottages. In the fields, farmers raked the grey earth to prepare it for winter. A wind swept across the terrain, blowing leaves from the trees to form showers of red, orange and yellow to blanket the land.

This landscape looked so much like the area around Blandon that a melancholy ache began to throb in Anna’s chest. Oh, for those autumn days when she and Peter played with the village children in the haystacks or drove the dog cart to the apple orchard for harvest. But she doubted she would ever see Blandon again. Or Peter.

No.
She would not think it. Peter was alive and well and recovering from his wounds somewhere in America. She must believe that. She must.

* * *

“A fine day, is it not, Miss Newfield?” Edmond noticed the moment her cheerful expression disappeared, but he could detect no cause for it.

She cleared her throat as though dismissing the emotion that had gripped her, and gave him a genuine smile, which suddenly made this pleasant day even brighter. “Oh, it is indeed. But does the weather seem a bit cold to you for this time of year?”

“Yes, I’ve noticed that as well.” He ran a hand down his steed’s neck. “As the days get shorter, the horses’ coats grow denser. This year I am convinced they’re thickening earlier in preparation for a bitter winter.”

“How interesting.” Miss Newfield copied his gesture, bending forward to caress Bella’s neck. She seemed to be growing more comfortable in the saddle, but only when she was distracted.

“Look.” He pointed to a wooded area as they passed it. “Were I a betting man, I’d wager not an acorn was left under the oak trees after the squirrels and nuthatches laid in their winter stores.” Not the most intelligent observation, but he wanted to keep her mind off her riding.

“Were I a betting woman, I would not take that wager.”

The lilt in her voice brought a chuckle from Edmond. For a simple country vicar’s daughter, she had a delightful wit. But then, her brother had kept the regiment entertained with his humor. As often before, he thought how grand it must have been to grow up in such an agreeable family.

“Major, why does Lady Greystone want me to ride? I have not observed her riding.”

Edmond hesitated, but decided she must know the truth. “No, she does not often ride. However, I believe she will want you to go along with her for the foxhunts.”

“Oh, my!” At her cry, Bella skittered to the side, causing Miss Newfield to gasp and stiffen as she tried not to fall.

“Easy, Bella.” Edmond bent forward to grasp the bridle and steady the mare. “It’s best not to startle your horse, madam.”

Her face pale, she nodded and adjusted her seating. “Forgive me, Major. I am not given to alarm.” She gave him a weak smile. “Most of the time.”

He reached across and patted her shoulder. “So I have noticed. But what is it about foxhunting that alarms you? It is a necessary sport. The foxes eat the game birds and rabbits. They attack the geese and chickens even in a well-protected farmyard.” He would not tell her that sometimes small children were attacked by those pests. “They must be exterminated as surely as we exterminate rats.”

“I do understand that.” The fear remained in her eyes. “But, you see, Squire Beamish orders annual foxhunts. The riders tear about the countryside, jumping hedges and fences and—” Her voice trailed off and her posture stiffened again. “I shall never be able—”

Edmond searched his thoughts for some way to encourage her. “Ah, well, perhaps you can cry off. As far as I know, Miss Peel never accompanied Mother on the hunts.”

“Yes, I know.” The young lady gave a wry shrug. “Perhaps that is why Lady Greystone insists that I must.” She leaned toward him, her eyes pleading. “I do so wish to be the best of companions to your mother, but—”

“No need to say ‘but.’” He straightened his posture and held up his hand to silence her. He must not let her falter, but could she take a bit of prodding, as he might goad a reluctant dragoon? “Come now, Miss Newfield, you can do this. We will urge our mounts to a trot. The first one back to the Lodge can claim victory.”

“Oh—”

“Come along. That’s a good soldier.” He reined Brutus around and was pleased to see her copy his actions. In the corner of his eye he could see George trying to hide a grin, as if the groom approved Edmond’s methods.

He clicked his tongue and gently dug his heels into his horse’s sides. After all his hesitation, he truly felt alive on this magnificent beast. Brutus had been restless to begin with and doubtless would prefer a full-out gallop, as would Edmond. But that would serve only to ruin the lesson. As much as he reveled in being on horseback again, he and the gelding would have to settle for a brisk trot. “Come along, Miss Newfield,” Edmond called over his shoulder. “We should make it back to the Lodge in time for our midday meal.” Another glance revealed a startled look, then narrowed eyes as determination took over her face.

“Go, Bella. Hurry up.”

Impatience resounded from Miss Newfield’s voice, to no avail. Bella had made up her mind to wander to the side of the road where some tufts of still-green grass beckoned, and no amount of kicking would deter her.

“Whoa.” Edmond pulled Brutus around. He’d neglected to tell her that horses sometimes liked to take advantage of a timid rider. Trading a look with the groom, he gave the lad a nod.

“Come now, missy.” George leaned out of the saddle and grasped Bella’s bridle. “Time to show the lady what you’re made of.” He tugged the mare along and urged his own horse to a trot.

“Let’s go, silly girl.” Miss Newfield’s voice wavered, but resolve was written across her face.

What a good soldier. What a gallant soul! Edmond felt his heart edging ever closer to a sincere attachment to the young lady, and he seemed to have no power to stop it.

* * *

Anna bounced in the saddle, sometimes with Bella’s gait and sometimes against it. She would be sore tonight, but it would be worth it for the lark she’d had this day. Still, she hoped Lady Greystone did not want to go to the village this afternoon for her usual Thursday visit, for Anna would enjoy a nice lie-down much more than a walk.

She arrived at the Lodge just a few lengths behind the major, but only because he was a gentleman. Oh, how she would like to ride well enough to actually have a race with him. What fun that would be. And no doubt very inappropriate. She permitted herself to admire him as a very fine, handsome soldier, but letting her sentiments go any further would be foolish. Still, when he lifted her down from Bella, she had to work hard to dismiss the giddy feelings in her chest and the pleasant shivers sliding down her arm.

“Congratulations on a job well done, Miss Newfield.” He swept off his black, plumed dragoon hat and bowed gallantly. “You will be riding to the hounds in no time.”

“Or perhaps I’ll have a bit of luck and break my leg.” She gave him a teasing grin, as she would to Peter, and he laughed.

“No, my dear lady, trust me when I say you do not want to break your leg.”

He offered an arm and they walked together through the wide front door of the Lodge. As if ordered by a silent command, they both stopped abruptly. For Lady Greystone stood in the entryway, arms crossed and a scowl sharpening her hawkish features. “Where have you been, Edmond? The vicar has been waiting in the drawing room to see Newfield for over an hour.”

Chapter Eleven

“T
o see me?” Anna had forgotten that Mr. Partridge had asked to call upon her.

“Is that not what I said?” Lady Greystone waved an arm toward the stairway. “Do not keep him waiting any longer. Go and change.”

Anna curtseyed and then dashed up the stairs like a mouse in the rafters. As she hurried down the hallway toward her room, she realized she had not taken her leave of Major Grenville. But surely the gentleman would forgive her under the circumstances.

In her room she found her black bombazine gown freshened and laid out on the bed. But she had not left it there.

Mrs. Hudson appeared at the door. “I took the liberty, miss.”

“I thank you, dear lady.” Anna snatched off her bonnet, leaving her hair ripped from its pins. “Oh, dear.”

“Permit me?” Mrs. Hudson helped her make a quick change and then deftly arranged her hair in a tidy bun and affixed the black mourning lace over it. “There. Quite presentable.”

“Mrs. Hudson, you are a jewel.” Tears stinging her eyes, Anna placed a quick kiss on the woman’s cheek.

She gasped. “Here now. None of that. ’Twas just a little thing.” But her eyes also filled. “Now, be off with you.”

Despite her words, they clung to each other for the briefest moment. Then, heart pounding, Anna did as she was told and hastened down the front stairs, taking a moment to catch her breath before nodding to the smiling footman to open the door. How good of the household servants to make her feel so much at home here at the Lodge.

“Mr. Partridge, how good of you to call.” Anna crossed the room to the grouping of chairs where the vicar waited with Lady Greystone. She hid her disappointment that Major Grenville was not present as well.

“My dear Miss Newfield.” When he stood, the clergyman’s tall, slender form was accentuated by his somber black suit, making him look like a friendly, grey-haired scarecrow.

After curtseys and bows and greetings were exchanged, they sat in the matching blue brocade chairs.

“Newfield, you will pour.” Lady Greystone nodded to the silver tea service on the occasional table.

Both she and the vicar watched as Anna poured steaming tea into china cups, although Mr. Partridge’s expression was measurably kinder. Still, Anna had poured many a tea for
Papá
’s guests and did not falter now. Of course, they had not owned a silver service, but she had never felt the need to apologize for the quality of their tea. Like his books,
Papá
valued good tea.

Asking each about their preferences for sugar and cream, Anna adroitly completed her assigned task. In addition to tea the tray held cucumber sandwiches, which the viscountess passed around as they chatted about the weather. Hungry from her ride, Anna endeavored not to devour the tasty treats, even as she waited for the vicar to address her. It seemed quite strange that Lady Greystone lingered, for when
Papá
had visited parishioners, no chaperone was required. But then, so little here at Greystone Lodge compared to her old life in Blandon.

“And so, Vicar,” Lady Greystone said, “you will not permit the village children to engage in any of that wicked All Hallows’ Eve mischief.” It was a clear command.

“Why, no, madam.” Mr. Partridge’s eyebrows rose, but a merry twinkle lit his eyes. “I believe the good people of Greystone Village are far too pious to engage in such activities, especially with the thirty-first occurring this Sunday. But of course we will hold services for All Saints’ Day and All Souls’ Day as usual.”

“As it should be.” Lady Greystone’s response sounded very near to approval. “Well, then, I shall leave you to your discussion.” She gave him a knowing nod as if they shared a secret, then rose and glided from the room.

Straightaway, the atmosphere in the room seemed to lighten, but Anna felt a twinge of guilt for such an unkind thought about her employer.

“Miss Newfield, when we spoke the other day you seemed burdened by your grief, which is entirely understandable.” He took a sip of tea and she refreshed his cup, remembering his preference for two lumps of sugar and a tiny splash of cream. “As I said then, I would be pleased to counsel with you, if you like.”

“I thank you, Vicar. So often we are told to hide our sorrows, but I believe we have a duty to help our fellow Christians to shoulder their burdens.”

“Such a wise sentiment from one so young.” His wrinkled face beamed approval. “But I cannot help but notice that today your face bears a certain, shall I say,
radiance.
” He leaned toward her with a gentle smile. “May I ask the cause?”

Anna touched her cheek. By now it should have warmed from the effects of the biting wind. “Why, I have no idea.” She had enjoyed the ride with Major Grenville, but why would that cause a heightened complexion? As if to answer, warmth crept up her neck.

The vicar chuckled, a paternal sound so much like
Papá
’s. A familiar ache tugged at her heart. Perhaps she had not dealt with her grief so well, after all. So she shared with Mr. Partridge a few memories of
Papá,
Mamá
and Peter, making sure to emphasize her expectation of hearing from her brother one day soon.

“I am convinced he survived. Otherwise they would have found his…remains.” That last word did not come easily.

“Yes, Major Grenville told me of your sentiments in that regard.” The vicar idly stirred his tea and tapped his spoon on the edge of the cup. “Tell me, my dear, do you like your living arrangements here?”

The shift in topic jarred her for a moment. “Why, I—” She waved a hand to take in the whole room. “Only an ingrate would fail to appreciate this lovely house.” And a certain gentleman’s encouraging presence. But she could hardly tell the vicar about her fondness for and dependence upon the major.

“Ah, yes, it is truly elegant. But would you not like a home of your own?”

A longing for that very thing teased at the door of Anna’s mind, but she refused it entry. “Why, Mr. Partridge, I am convinced God has willed for me to be a spinster. I am content with that.”

“Hmm, hardly a spinster, my dear. When a man reaches my age, he views his twenties as barely out of childhood.”

Anna laughed. “I cannot agree, sir. Consider the gentlemen in this house, all in their twenties. Lord Greystone serves in Parliament. Major Grenville has fought for England. And of course, Mr. Grenville’s ordination—”

“Yes, of course.” A hint of dismay shot across his pale blue eyes as he stood and walked to the nearby window.

Did he suspect he would soon be replaced by Lady Greystone’s middle son? What a dreadful way to live, not unlike her own uncertain situation.

He stared out through the hazy glass. “Miss Newfield, I will be blunt, but I hope not offensive. My beloved wife died eight years ago, and we were not blessed with offspring. Of late, I have been lonely. It has occurred to me that a young lady in your situation, without family or funds, could do worse than marry a humble country vicar.”

Shock tore through Anna. His offer was entirely unexpected.

The vicar still did not look her way. “I do realize you are in mourning, but perhaps you will forgive me if I am overstepping. And of course you need not respond immediately. You see, with your unique training in your father’s home, you would be a blessing to both me and my parishioners. And you may be assured that my pension will be yours when I die.” He still did not turn to face her, perhaps fearing her response. “I assure you, I will not expect—”

“Mr. Partridge.” She could not let him continue. “You cannot imagine how honored I am.” She sent up a quick prayer for wisdom. But surely the vicar had prayed about this, too. Would she be thwarting God’s will to decline?

He turned to face her, his eyes wide, his lips parted as if he would speak. But he remained silent, the question written across his weathered features.

Anna could not speak either, but only continue to plead with God for a clear answer. Did Lady Greystone know he was going to propose? Did that mean her employer was displeased and wished to be rid of her? Or was this some sort of a test? And if so, why? When no answer to these questions came to mind, Anna could think of only one way to avert disaster.

“Sir, I believe God has called me to be Lady Greystone’s companion. Until He or the viscountess releases me from this position, I must follow His leading.”

Was that relief softening the vicar’s expression? “I would never advise someone of your spiritual sensitivity to disobey God’s leading.” His gentle smile once again became paternal. “But if you ever find this situation untenable, I—”

Anna crossed the small gap between them and gripped his hand. “My dear Mr. Partridge, you are a true friend. How you honor me with your kindness.”

He patted her gloved hand. “We’ll say no more about it.” He offered her his arm, she accepted, and they walked toward the door. Just as the footman opened it for them, a shout sounded on the other side.

“You what?” Major Grenville’s voice echoed throughout the entryway. “Mother, what are you thinking?” He swung his gaze toward Anna and the vicar, his eyes lighting on her hand resting on the clergyman’s arm.

Anna resisted the urge to jump away from Mr. Partridge. There was nothing improper about their contact. But the major must have thought so, for he spun away and stalked up the staircase.

* * *

Edmond could not get to his room fast enough. Pain shot up his leg, but he stomped all the harder with each step on the hallway runner as if to punish himself for the position in which he had put poor Miss Newfield. He had brought her here to protect her, but Mother had sold her as a lamb for slaughter.

He slammed his door and flung himself into a velvet wingchair, despising its soft cushions, despising the opulence of this entire estate and all it represented. If Uncle Grenville did not come soon, Edmond would find a way to go to London to visit him, with or without Mother’s permission.

He could not fault Miss Newfield for grasping for a life of security or seeking to escape Mother’s unpleasant temperament. The vicar was a kind, godly man who would treat her well. But the idea of their marriage caused Edmond’s belly to rumble like a volcano preparing to erupt. There had to be a different solution to her dilemma.

Perhaps he could investigate what went wrong with the inheritance her father had arranged. An annual income of fifty pounds was nothing to dismiss, and he now knew her well enough to realize she would not have misunderstood her father’s promises. If Edmond could solve that situation before she married, she might change her mind. He could not believe Mr. Partridge had fallen in love with a girl less than half his age. The vicar was not an old fool. Edmond would visit him and explain how responsible he felt for the sister of the man who saved him, perhaps convince him to withdraw his offer before the banns were cried.

Worn out from the morning ride and the pain in his leg, not to mention his emotional struggle, he scrubbed his hand down his face and laid his head back into the chair wing, surrendering to his blackest thoughts. Oh, for the day when his strength returned and he could resume normal living.

“Feeling poorly, sir?” Matthews stepped into the room with Edmond’s freshly done laundry.

“A bit.” He could always be truthful with his batman. The lad had a proper fondness for Miss Newfield. Maybe he had an idea about what to do.

“Do you mind a bit of gossip from below stairs, sir?” Matthews lifted one eyebrow.

At this point, any diversion would do. “You know the parameters.” He wouldn’t permit cruel or salacious rumors.

“Aw, it’s just a bit of a chuckle. No harm to it.” Matthews placed the shirts, stocking and breeches into the mahogany wardrobe, making sure each item was evenly stacked with similar garments.

Edmond longed for the day when he could don civilian clothing again, but he suspected Mother took pride in being seen with him in uniform. “Go ahead.”

“Seems the good old vicar just offered for Miss Newfield.” Matthews chuckled. “Can you beat that?”

Edmond eyed him. Did no protective bone dwell in this man’s body?

“John the footman said he’d never seen such a gracious rejection in his life. Though I doubt the lad’s seen all that many.”

Edmond bolted up in the chair. “Rejection?”

Matthews chuckled. “O’course. You don’t think our bonnie Miss Newfield would marry an old codger like the vicar, do you?” He winked, as only a close servant would dare. “Meaning no disrespect to ’im, sir.”

Laughing uncontrollably, Edmond leaned back in the chair again, unable to account for the utter joy that surged through his chest and radiated to every part of his being.