Straw in the Wind (23 page)

‘The tears make your eyes look luminous.'

‘Not just red?' and there was a forlorn mockery of a laugh from her. Her curiosity was raised though, when Joseph brought the second basket in.

‘That's heavy, allow me to take it from you,' Adam said to the struggling Joseph, and he lowered the burden of the heavy basket to the floor.

‘Goodness! We'd better move them before Mr Leighton arrives home and trips over them. What's in them?'

Adam's lips twitched at the thought of one particular intimate garment. ‘I have no idea. They are a gift to you from Marianne Thornton. Would you like me to take them through to your quarters?'

‘A gift? Why should she send me a gift when she doesn't even know me?'

‘Because Marianne is a generous person who wants you to feel welcome, and who is so longing to meet you that her husband had to tie her to a chair to stop her following after me.'

Serafina laughed. ‘So why do I feel so embarrassed by her generosity?'

‘Because you're an ungrateful creature with no graces, and I wonder why I'm bothering with you.'

‘Why are you?'

Because I love you, Serafina, he wanted to say, but he didn't have the courage, not yet, when all her defences were still up and she was bristling with caution. ‘Because it's my profession to bother with you. I'm being paid to.'

He caught the tail end of the grin she tried to hide, one which said she knew he was lying. ‘Oh, I see. Thank you, Adam; are you staying for a while?'

He reached out and took her hand in his. ‘Long enough to persuade you to journey to Poole with me in two weeks' time, I hope. Captain Thornton's ship should be coming into port about then.'

‘If I agree to go with you now, you'll leave right away, so I'll reserve the right to detain you a little longer than five minutes.'

She had no idea how those words warmed him. ‘That's the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me, but I hope to stay overnight, at least.'

‘Since you're practically one of Mr Leighton's family now I'm sure you don't need an invitation, Adam. You can let go of my hand, now.'

He gazed down at it, knowing it wasn't the prettiest hand he'd seen on a woman, but her history of hard work from an early age was written on her palm and he felt an extreme tenderness towards her because of it. ‘Must I?'

‘Yes, you must . . .
eventually
,' and she gave a breathless little giggle. ‘How's Celia?'

‘Planning her wedding and looking forward to her life here as Mrs Leighton. I have a note in my waistcoat pocket for you.'

‘I'm sure they'll be happy together. Have you eaten yet?'

‘Not since breakfast.'

He let go of her hand when Giles came into the hall.

‘Joseph sent me to take them baskets off you, sir. Mr Leighton will give me what for if he trips over them. He gave me a right wigging last time. Giles, says he, you should know better and be glad I don't send you packing.' He shrugged. ‘Now I'm sending myself packing and I'll be my own man – and a family man at that. It's funny what life throws at you?'

‘It certainly is,' and Serafina slid a glance towards Adam, and her smile along with it.

‘Where shall I put them, Miss?'

‘In my sitting room please, Giles.'

‘A gift for you from Mr Chapman, is it? Just asking, since Maggie will wonder,' and Giles gazed at her, his curiosity plain to see.

‘No, Giles, it isn't a gift from Mr Chapman. Tell Maggie that Mr Chapman will require some lunch. Perhaps some chicken broth, followed by a slice of that delicious pork pie she made with some new potatoes, and pickles. Serve it in my sitting room, along with mine. You won't mind, will you, Adam? The dining room floor has just been scrubbed and it's still damp.'

‘It suits me fine. Don't you want to open your gift from Marianne?'

‘I haven't decided yet that I'm going to accept it. We're complete strangers, so it's a little premature, and the gift seems overly generous, so I'll never be able to repay her kindness.'

He was disappointed. ‘Marianne finds pleasure in the giving. If you'd seen how excited she was at being able to offer you this gift, you wouldn't be so cruel,' and he chuckled. Marianne Thornton was a force to be reckoned with, despite her sweet nature. If the gift were refused she would probably descend on Serafina like a swarm of hornets and give the hapless girl a good telling off.

‘Why did you laugh?'

‘There was twice as much to begin with and Marianne's husband made her whittle it down. When he took something out she put up a convincing argument that every woman had great need of such an item. Luckily, he overruled her, otherwise I'd never have been able to transport it . . . it nearly broke my back getting it here. The horse's back as well.'

‘Then I'm being ungrateful, and shouldn't put you to so much trouble a second time by sending it back.' Her husky chuckle made Adam's hairs stand on end.

‘No, you shouldn't.'

Taking a step forward she gave him a quick, tentative kiss on his cheek. ‘Thank you, Adam.'

She coloured a little afterwards, when he commented, ‘Is that the best you can do?'

‘I don't know; I'm not used to kissing people . . . I didn't mean to kiss you.'

‘Then why did you?'

An odd, embarrassed little laugh flopped from her. ‘I don't know; because you've been kind, I suppose. Was it so awful and shocking?'

‘Not in the least. Will you allow me to kiss you in return?'

Her eyes widened and a grin came and went. ‘I didn't expect you to
ask
. . . now I don't know what to say.'

‘Yes will do.'

She sounded flustered when she said, ‘I'll think about it. Let's go through to my sitting room; you can take the straps off the baskets for me if you like.'

He followed her down a dark corridor to where her rooms were situated. What had she said – that she hadn't expected him to ask?

Her sitting room was next to the kitchen and faced north. It was a dark, gloomy cavern with high thin windows that let in light, but not the sunshine. Sitting, Serafina wouldn't be able to see out of them. A row of well-thumbed books leaned against each other on the shelf. There were feminine touches; a vase of wild flowers on the table, an embroidered cushion, and a bowl of pot-pourri that gave off an elusive perfume of summers past. The fire grate was inadequate for such a large room. Through a door he could see her bed, narrow with an iron headboard and a faded bedspread.

As soon as the door closed behind them he turned her round, drew her into his arms and gazed down at her. Her eyes were pulled to his, as beautiful and as innocent as those of a fawn.

‘Adam, is this wise?'

‘Of course it's not wise, but life's about risk.' He could see himself drowning in the shining brown depths of her eyes and felt her heart beat against his. She made a soft mewing sound in her throat that was half in protest and half-pleasure, and she laid her head against his shoulder.

He should never have allowed himself to fall in love with her, he told himself, and now, because he was encouraging it, she was discovering what she had inside herself – the need to be loved. Her hair smelled of lavender and his nostrils flared to capture it.

There was danger in this innocent hug, their arms clasping them together so warmth and emotion flowed from one to the other, making them as one. Adam reacted to her womanliness, felt her breasts become aware and push against his chest. She was new to the complications of love, and had no idea that the surge of him against her was of her own creation. Heat filled him and he wanted to drag her to her neat virgin bed and ravish her perfect little body until he evoked so much lust inside her that they'd end up as a heap of naked tangled limbs tied together by the rumpled sheets – and then she'd beg for the release they both craved.

She looked up at him, knowing that nature had changed him somehow, but unsure why. What she was feeling was registered in her eyes, so they were sleepy with lust for an instant, like a purring cat unable to resist the ecstasy of its chin being caressed. She was shy nevertheless, especially when he grinned at her.

He contented himself by kissing the end of her nose, seeing in its shapeliness a resemblance to Marianne's nose.

‘Goodness . . . someone might see us, you had better let me go, Adam,' she said breathlessly, and when he did – for his own comfort rather than hers – she opened the door to the corridor then walked the length of the room and closed the door to her bedroom, as if the sight of the bed was unsettling because she'd just remembered that there might be another purpose it could be used for, apart from sleeping the sleep of the innocent.

He grinned as he bent to the wicker baskets and bent himself to the task of loosening the straps that Nick, with his strong and dextrous hands, had so efficiently tightened.

A few moments later both Fanny and Maggie drifted in, drawn by Serafina's exclamations of surprise and delight.

Hearing the rumble of Finch and Oscar's voices above the feminine clamour, Adam left the females to it and headed off towards the drawing room.

A
thin and wiry-looking lad from the workhouse had been hired to replace Giles, and he underwent a week of training before Giles said he was satisfied that he knew how to look after the horse, and what his duties were.

Thomas Stark was respectful to everyone, and a willing worker, though when he'd first fallen on his food like a starving wolf Maggie had rapped him on the knuckles with her spoon.

‘We haven't said grace yet, and we employ good manners in this household. You eat with your mouth closed, chew your food, don't speak when your mouth is full and you say please and thank you.'

‘Yes, ma'am.'

‘Then you may say grace if you wish, Thomas.'

‘Thank you, God, for smiling on me. You must be, else why should Tommy Stark, who was sent packing by his kinfolk because they could no longer afford to feed him, end up with a position in a house that has the best cook in the world?'

Maggie smiled benevolently upon Thomas then. ‘Poor boy, you're as thin as a sparrow. I reckon you didn't get much to eat in that place, at that. I'll need to fatten you up a bit as well as teach you some manners.'

‘Thank you, ma'am,' Thomas said humbly, though with a gleam of mischief shining in his eyes. ‘May I eat now?'

‘You may.'

Serafina stifled a giggle.

The following month Giles and Jassy were wed in the same church that Mr Leighton and Celia would use . . . only Mr Leighton's relative, the bishop, would officiate at their nuptials.

Serafina had felt like a queen in her new skirt and day bodice with its wide bell sleeves. Fashioned from glowing bronze taffeta with cream lace trim, it had a matching bonnet with a posy of red and yellow silk poppies sewn to one side.

Fanny wore Serafina's cast-off bonnet decorated with new blue ribbons. Maggie had admired a Kashmir shawl amongst the other treasures Serafina had been sent. As there had been two of everything enclosed in the wicker baskets, Serafina didn't see any sense in not sharing her pleasure and good fortune. Adam had assured her that the gift need not be returned if it turned out that she was not the missing Honeyman daughter, though she'd allowed herself the luxury to hope that she was.

After the service they had gone to the farm and eaten the feast provided by Jassy's mother, and drank her dandelion and elderberry wine. Giles was left at his new home, looking awkward, and with Jassy clinging possessively to his arm.

With stomachs straining at the seams they'd walked the wedding feast off on the way home, where Serafina changed into her working clothes, rather than spoil her new ones. The morning had been humid and the afternoon had become overcast. They were in for a thunderstorm, she thought.

Her employer had been suffering from a headache all through the service, and had not eaten much at the wedding feast. He looked pale and had gone upstairs to rest as soon as they got back to Leighton Manor.

‘I'll make you a compress,' Serafina said, and to relax him she prepared a cloth dampened with cold water to which a few drops of lavender oil had been added.

‘I hope Mr Leighton is not sickening for anything,' she said to Oscar as she handed it over. ‘I'll bring him up some tea after he's rested.'

The sky darkened ominously. The air grew still, and there was a sense of waiting about it. There was no work to be done. Maggie fell asleep in her rocking chair with Fingal curled on her lap. After the big midday meal they were having cold cuts for supper, so she didn't have anything to do at the moment. Fanny lit a candle and practised her letters at the kitchen table, singing softly to herself.

Thomas and Joseph were probably in the stable. Serafina didn't know where Oscar was; watching over Mr Leighton, she supposed.

She went to her sitting room, lit a candle and took out Marianne Thornton's note, reading it for what seemed like the one hundredth time.

Dearest Serafina,

I do hope you won't mind me calling you by your first name, but why should you when we are in all likelihood, sisters. My heart has always told me that you survived your birth.

From what Adam has told me I know your life has not been easy, so please accept my gift in the way it is offered, not as a charitable act but a gift of love between two sisters who were never destined to grow up together. If by chance it proves that we are not related, then I hope we will find a way to become good friends instead.

I'm looking forward to the day we meet.

Yours sincerely,

Marianne Thornton

Kissing the letter Serafina folded it back into its creases and placed it in the book box Mr Leighton had given her for her treasures. There was the pretty purse with her money in and the key to Diana Milson's room, which she had also hidden there so she wouldn't be tempted. She slid the box back into the shelf of books and smiled. It was the first letter she could ever remember receiving – a letter from her sister . . .
one
of her sisters.