Love Inspired Historical March 2014 Bundle: Winning Over the Wrangler\Wolf Creek Homecoming\A Bride for the Baron\The Guardian's Promise (57 page)

She took in all that, before her eyes were caught by the resplendent altar screen beneath a large arched window that had been carelessly boarded over, allowing sunlight to slip past. The screen had been created by a master artisan. Cherubs held ribbons and trays of fruit along the top and down the sides of the screen that must have been more than twelve feet tall and almost as wide. Scenes from the Bible had been carved on the wood panels and painted such bright colors that even time had not faded them.

Walking to the closest bench, she discovered that it was as old as the rest of the woodwork. The tiles beneath her feet mixed with stones where memorial brasses were missing. Through the dust, she saw the shape of angels and animals as well as a man and a woman whose outline suggested they wore clothing with stiff neck ruffs of the same era as many of the portraits in the corridor.

“This is beautiful,” she whispered, not wanting to disturb the silence. “Sophia and Cat never mentioned there was a chapel in Meriweather Hall.”

“They may not have known. Few people come into this wing, and I had no idea the chapel was here until Lady Meriweather mentioned I might want to reopen it while the Sanctuary Bay church is being rebuilt.”

“What a lovely space! It must be as old as the house.”

“Perhaps older.”

“Really?” She faced him and saw he was smiling as broadly as she was. “How is that possible?”

“Most of this house, save for the great hall and this chapel and possibly some parts of the kitchens, was built after the Norman keep was torn down four or five hundred years ago. It would appear that the oldest sections were updated in the mid-seventeenth century, which explains why much of the decoration here is in the baroque style.” He gestured to the cherubs with ornate skies of pink-and-white clouds behind them. “The decoration is too embellished for my taste, but it has an impact when one enters the chapel. I suspect that may have been the intention of the Lord Meriweather of the time. He must have wanted the most magnificent chapel in North Yorkshire.”

She regarded him in astonishment. “Did you find that information in one of the histories in the book room?”

“No need. I have seen many ancient houses razed in and around London. Some country houses had chapels like this, stuck on one corner of the house so nothing was between the chapel and heaven.” He walked toward the pulpit, dust stealing the last of the shine from his boots. “It seems a crime to tear down such sacred places. They could be returned to their former glory with some structural support and soap and water.”

“But you built new houses, didn't you?”

“At the beginning. Later, I opened an import company to obtain the marble and fine woods the wealthy want in their new homes. They care little about history. Instead, they want whatever is the rage.” He ran his hand along the pulpit, paying no attention to the spider webs clinging to his sleeve. “Some, after hearing I had inherited this house, asked me how long I thought it would take to pull it down and build something suitable in its place.” His mouth twisted. “Suitable! What could be more suitable for Sanctuary Bay than this house that has weathered time and storms and the vagaries of all who have passed through its doors?”

She stared at him, awed by his fervor. He seemed calm, seldom raising his voice and eager to please those around him. There were depths to him that she had not guessed existed. Depths that made him the best possible lord of the manor.

He flinched and said, “I'm sor—”

“Don't you dare say you are sorry for speaking from your heart, Edmund! If you want my opinion, and I'm going to offer it whether you do or not, you should speak from your heart more.”

“Doing so has gotten me in trouble more often than not.”

“But not doing so hides the man you truly are.” Mischievousness crept into her voice. “And won't you shock your aunt?”

“Yes, she would be taken aback if I spoke so in her hearing. She comments how cold and drafty the house is. She thinks me quite the twit for wanting to live in what she deems the middle of beyond.” He pushed away from the pulpit. “But enough of that. Is there enough room here for the whole congregation?”

She scanned the space again. “I'm not sure if that is anything to worry about. Many of the older parishioners will not be able to attend, because it is a long walk from the village to Meriweather Hall.”

“Lady Meriweather suggested we arrange for wagons and carts to bring the parishioners here and back after the service.”

“It sounds as if you have given this a lot of thought.”

“Lady Meriweather has.”

Vera turned slowly to take in every inch of the dusty space. The sounding board would not need to be put back into place, and a good scrubbing would bring both the floors and the wood back to a Sunday sheen.

“What do you think, Vera?”

“I think Lady Meriweather will enjoy welcoming the villagers here as her predecessors did. Will you?”

His brows lowered in a puzzled frown. “I'm not sure what you mean.”

“Do you look forward to assuming the most important role of the lord of Meriweather Hall? Welcoming the people who work on your lands to worship with you?”

“The village, as you know, is not part of this estate.”

She waved aside his words with a chuckle. “You know what I mean. Back when this chapel was built, that baron held the land from this end of Sanctuary Bay to Whitby. Everyone who lived here was dependent upon Meriweather Hall for protection during war and for food during famines or when the fishing went bad.”

“You know a lot about this house.”

“I am interested in the history of the bay. When the previous Lord Meriweather told stories of the olden days, I listened eagerly.” She paused, then said quietly, “You would have liked him, Edmund. I know you never had a chance to meet him, but you share many interests with him.”

“I regret that we never met.” He picked up a strip of fabric from a bench, and the material fell apart in his hands. “It will need some cleaning.”

“I know the ladies from the church will be glad to help. If you send carts for them, we can get it cleaned before Sunday.”

“We will be glad to help, too,” said Mrs. Williams from the doorway. The tall housekeeper wiped her hands on her apron as she came into the chapel. Her black gown became hoary with dust from the floor. “It would be our pleasure, my lord. If I may say so, it's been too many years since this chapel was used. My granny told me how her granny was told by
her
granny about when the chapel was used for christenings and marriages for the Meriweather family back as far as anyone could recall.”

Edmund hesitated, and Vera knew he could not make even this simple decision.

She hurried to say, “Mrs. Williams, that is generous of you. However, if you need help, please don't hesitate to ask. I know our church members would be glad to lend a hand.”

“We will be happy for their help, Miss Fenwick.” The housekeeper smiled broadly. “Imagine that! Services in the chapel. I never thought I would see the day. It is a true blessing.”

Vera smiled at Edmund. “Yes, it truly is.”

* * *

Walking toward the back of the chapel, Edmund left Vera to talk with the housekeeper. How easily they made decisions!

He turned to look at the boarded window. Mrs. Williams spoke to Vera about sending a couple of men up to remove the planks, and he imagined the colors and light that would fill the chapel. Lady Meriweather had mentioned to him that the stained-glass window would match the beauty of the altar screen.

“Or so I am told,” she had said. “Not that I have ever seen the window uncovered.”

He had chuckled with her, because it was impossible not to share Lady Meriweather's laughter. Now, as he looked around the chapel with its dust and webs and what might be bat droppings beneath the gallery, he vowed to take the time to check every room in the vast house from the cellars to the attics. From the day he had arrived at Meriweather Hall, he had wanted to do that, but events had distracted him.

Events with the smugglers and watching his friends fall in love and pledge to spend their lives with his cousins. They had begun to overcome the pain and unseen wounds they had brought back from the Continent.

While they had accomplished that, he still had not taken a full tour of the manor house. He had not halted the smugglers. Getting past the changes the war had made on him seemed impossible. Nor had he trusted his heart as his friends had theirs.

His gaze went of its own volition to where Vera glowed with happiness as she and Mrs. Williams went over the tasks to be done before Sunday. She glanced in his direction, and her smile softened.

He wanted to shout that she needed to stop looking at him as if her heart ached to belong to him. It was true that, when she had fallen into the smugglers' tunnel, he had been more frightened than he had ever been on the battlefield. She would be a pea-goose to want more from him than his help in rebuilding her brother's church. He was not the man he had been, and, as each day passed, the hope dimmed that he would regain what had been lost.

“Here you are!” Miss Kightly's cheerful voice lilted through his grim thoughts.

“Come in,” Vera called as Mrs. Williams excused herself to gather the necessary hands and supplies to begin cleaning the chapel.

Miss Kightly entered, holding her gown up so the hem did not brush the dirty floor. “Is this a chapel?”

“Yes, we will be using it for services for the parish.” Vera smiled. “Isn't that wonderful? It has just been rediscovered.”

“Oh, what fun!” Miss Kightly clapped her hands in delight. “I hoped to find some great treasure like this when I explored my uncle's house, but he keeps warning me to stop because parts of the house are not stable.” Her eyes twinkled. “But I would risk it if I could find a special room like this one.”

“Come. Let me show you around.”

As Vera led Miss Kightly around the small space, Edmund watched them. Vera had a dark beauty while Miss Kightly was light and ethereal. He could not forget how much he had wanted to kiss Vera in the carriage. Yet, maybe his aunt was right. Instead of flirting with Vera, should he consider marrying a woman like Sir Nigel's great-niece? She knew much about the
ton,
and if he followed her lead, he might be able to hide his inability to make a decision. He almost laughed. To offer her marriage, he first had to
decide
to marry her.

“Mrs. Williams believes, with some help from the ladies in the village, the chapel will be ready for Sunday,” Vera went on.

“Are you sure?” Miss Kightly's nose wrinkled. Her eyes widened when her gaze alighted on him, but she looked back at Vera who assured her that the chapel would be in good enough condition for Sunday.

“After all,” Vera said, “our Savior was born in a stable where there must have been plenty of dust and spiders. Our prayers will not be deemed of lesser value because we are not sitting in a pristine chapel.” Her laugh was filled with delight. “To be honest, we should be right at home here, because there were always webs in the corners of the church that I could not reach even with a broom.”

“I hope you are right about having it ready,” Miss Kightly said, holding her skirt close to keep it from touching the benches or pulpit. “I have my doubts.” She looked at him again. “Don't you?”

Knowing he could not loiter in the shadows, Edmund walked along the single aisle. “Actually I do.” He hurried on when he saw the joyful light in Vera's eyes dim. “But I am discovering that once Vera sets her mind on something, it comes to pass, no matter how many doubting Thomases surround her.”

Miss Kightly gasped. “Vera?” She looked at Vera and grinned. “If he calls you by your given name, he must do the same for me.” She laughed when Edmund started to protest. “Oh, bother! Do not offer me an etiquette lesson. We are not in London. Besides, you don't want to make Vera think you value her less because you address her by her Christian name?”

“I never—” he began.

Miss Kightly did not let him finish. “So it is set. You will call me Lillian, and I will call both of you by your first names. How much more companionable we will be!” She started to add more but sneezed once, then a second and a third time. “Oh, bother! 'Tis the dust. It always makes my nose itch. Excuse me!”

He stepped aside as she rushed out of the chapel, “Vera, it was never my intention to make you feel of lesser value by suggesting we call each by our given names.”

“I know that.” Vera smiled and tapped his nose as if he were a tot. “Couldn't you tell she was teasing with you? It was her method of getting her way without a long, drawn-out discussion.”

“I never thought of it that way.”

“Because all you were thinking of was how your aunt would see such casualness between you as a sure sign that you were ready to offer for Lillian.”

“You know my aunt too well, it would seem.”

“No, I have come to know you.” Before he could reply to that unanticipated comment, she added, “Thank you, Edmund, for making this chapel available to our parishioners.”

“I told you. It was Lady Meriweather's suggestion.”

“But you are the lord of Meriweather Hall. If you felt uncomfortable with the villagers coming here, nobody would gainsay you. I—and Gregory—appreciate this more than words can say.”

He was amazed how difficult it was for him to accept a compliment from her. And how too easy it was for his attention to shift to her whenever she was nearby.

As they left the chapel, Edmund let Vera do most of the talking. She was making lists of what needed to be done and how to make sure it was completed. Her voice trailed away, and he saw a familiar silhouette walking toward them.

“They told me I would find you here, Meriweather.” Sir Nigel's voice resounded through the hallway. “I thought I would find my niece with you.” His eyes shot daggers at Vera who stood stiffly beside Edmund.