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Authors: Deborah Hale

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BOOK: The Wedding Season
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Chapter Eleven

C
rouched behind a large cabinet, Philip hid with his back against the wall listening to the giggles coming from the nursery down the corridor. Through the open door across from his position, he could see Miss Elizabeth’s skirt draped on the floor behind an upholstered chair. She peered at him around the chair, and he motioned toward her skirt. Nodding her appreciation, she quickly tucked it and herself out of sight.

Jamie was nowhere to be seen, but he owned a reputation for being the best at hiding. Philip felt a strong urge to challenge that reputation, but he didn’t know the house well enough and would probably find himself in a room inappropriate for a guest to enter. How easy it was to forget his status among these people who treated him as a family member.

The children finished counting to one hundred, and the governess, Miss Alistair, clapped her hands. “Go on now. Find them.”

Philip could hear the children’s light steps as they dashed from the nursery. Within moments, they trekked past him, led by eleven-year-old Frances. Philip had no doubt she saw
him from the corner of her eye, but she blocked the view from her little cousins and hurried them along, urging them to keep looking.

Philip couldn’t decide whether to surprise them or to race to the nursery before they could catch him. Experiences these past days taught him they took particular delight in being startled, so startling won out.

He stood, raised his arms overhead, and bellowed “Roar!” The sound echoed throughout the corridor.

All four children shrieked loudly enough to shatter the windows at the head of the staircase. As they fell into giggles, he lumbered like a bear down the center carpet of the passageway with the children fast on his heels. The two boys latched onto his legs and dragged him down before he reached the safety of the nursery door.

He landed on his belly and, for the briefest moment, saw only black. Shaking his head, he pulled in a lungful of dusty, humid air and rolled over, grabbing one twin and tickling him until the child shrieked again. He couldn’t yet tell one from the other, but he thought this was Guy. Lewis, in the meantime, was attacking Philip’s head with a small pillow.

“Quarter. Quarter,” Philip roared. “I demand quarter.” Seated on the floor, he looked up just in time to see Captain Moberly reach the top of the staircase, remove his pipe from between his teeth and stare at Philip as if he were a lunatic.

Philip suddenly remembered himself, and his entire head and body ignited with embarrassment. “Uh, good afternoon, Captain.”

The captain’s eyes brightened, and he seemed to struggle not to laugh. “Never surrender, Mr. Lindsey. They’ll use it against you next time.”

“Grandpapa,” the twins cried in unison, then left their prey and attacked the older gentleman.

Moberly deftly evaded their clutches and scooped one up in each arm. “You see, Lindsey, you must outwit them.”

“Mr. Lindsey!” Miss Elizabeth dashed up the hall with the two little girls behind her. “Are you all right?” Although her concern seemed genuine, she did rush past him into the nursery and grab her prize, a pink confection. “Ha.” She held it high and grinned at her nieces. “I win.” She popped the sweet into her mouth.

An odd but pleasant feeling filled Philip’s chest. He’d never met such a delightful young lady.

Amid whines and complaints, everyone agreed Miss Elizabeth was the victor. All but Jamie. He was nowhere to be seen. A vote was taken, and they decided to reverse the ploy and not seek him out. Just the sort of thing Philip might do to his own brother.

These games reminded him of his escapades in happier times at home, and a painful dart struck his heart. He plucked it out, forbidding its poison to infect him with bitterness. God had given him a happy childhood and a beloved sister and brother. He’d be grateful for his blessings, be grateful for his brief time with this dear family and look to the Almighty for the future.

 

Outside her own family, Elizabeth had never known a gentleman who participated in games with children with such abandon as Mr. Lindsey. Why, he was anything but taciturn, as she’d first thought.

But in quieter moments, she also noticed his countenance became sober and sadness emanated from his eyes. Surely after these four days, with hour after hour in each
other’s company, she could inquire about the cause of his melancholy without a breach of propriety.

Late in the afternoon, she found him in the library reading Papa’s
Naval Gazette.
Not wishing to overdo a joke, she refrained from asking why he was not reading the dictionary. Further, that sort of teasing would set the wrong tone for the more sober conversation she planned to introduce.

“Does the
Gazette
address the French issue?”
Oh, bother.
Another poor beginning.

Mr. Lindsey looked up, and his face brightened. “Miss Elizabeth.” He set the newspaper aside and stood, giving her a slight bow. “I fear my mind was wandering rather than gathering information.” The welcoming smile he gave her sent a pleasant shiver up her spine.

“Well then, we have something in common.” She waved him back to his chair and sat across from him. “I can never find anything to keep me awake in those periodicals.”

His deep chuckle wrapped around her shoulders like a cozy blanket, while the mild scent of his woody shaving balm mingled with the odors of old books and tobacco.

“Have you recovered from this morning’s adventures?”

He shook his head. “Not at all. I hope never to recover from such an enjoyable experience. Your nieces and nephews are remarkable children. Utterly delightful.”

“Have you been around children much?” Elizabeth’s family was overrun with offspring, and she could not imagine any other way to live.

“No, to my regret.” A hint of sadness did cross his eyes, reminding Elizabeth of why she had sought him out. “But,” he continued, “I am close to my brother and sister, both of whom are younger than I. In these six years since our parents’ deaths, I’ve been almost a parent to them.”

“Ah. Very admirable, but a large burden for a young man to bear.”

His eyes searched hers. What was he looking for? She felt a sudden inadequacy to address any matter of importance with him.

 

Philip could hardly resist the sympathy emanating from Miss Elizabeth’s blue eyes. But as much as he wished to empty his aching soul to her, he couldn’t think a young miss of eighteen years should be thus burdened.

“I sense, sir, that something other than your sister’s unfortunate situation has caused you sorrow.”

Ah, how she did surprise him at every turn. His emotions threatened to erupt, so he looked away and stared out the tall windows at the beautiful scenery. The storm had at last blown over, leaving the land lush and verdant, and sunlight painted sparkling emerald swaths across the dark green landscape. At home such a sight never failed to gladden his heart, but now it only brought him added sorrow, reminding him how far he was from the home he loved—and from the people in his care. They should always be his first thought and his first concern, he reminded himself, no matter how easy it was to be distracted by Miss Elizabeth’s charming company.

“My valet brought sad news from home.”

She gasped and moved to the edge of her chair. “Oh, dear sir, not your sister?”

“No.” Her compassion sent a pang through his heart. “That would have been a blow too hard to bear.” He gripped the overstuffed arms of the tapestry chair and swallowed, forbidding excessive emotion to spill out. “A dear cousin—a distant relation, but reared near us—has died.”

“And these past days, you have borne it without anyone
to share your sorrow.” Now her eyes clouded with tears, and they slipped down her fair cheeks like raindrops…or glistening diamonds.

Again, Philip forced his gaze away from her. “It wasn’t unexpected. He never enjoyed a strong constitution.”

“But that does not lessen your grief.”

“No.”

“Are you needed at home?”

“No.” He wouldn’t explain the family rift between his grandfather and great-uncle that would have prevented his attendance at Stratford’s funeral, even if he’d been in Gloucestershire. No doubt every family had similar difficulties.

Miss Elizabeth dabbed her cheeks with a monogrammed handkerchief. “Will you please convey my condolences to your sister and brother?”

Philip could only stare at her, for emotion closed his throat. This exquisite creature, as beautiful in character as in appearance, was the soul of kindness. How he’d love for her to befriend Lucy. How he’d love—

“And of course—” Miss Elizabeth’s soft voice cut through his short daze. “—I shall pray for all of you to be comforted in your grief.”

“I thank you, Miss Elizabeth.”

Their conversation turned to lighter matters for a few moments, and then she excused herself. He couldn’t take offense, for lengthy private discussions between them could be deemed improper should the wrong person observe it. It would not be wise, in any respect, to encourage any belief she might hold that he intended to court her. That simply wasn’t possible, no matter what she might think…or he might wish.

Chapter Twelve

“I
n Lindsey’s honor—” Jamie stood in the middle of the drawing room holding a glass bowl containing paper “—I have invented a new word game.”

Elizabeth glanced at Mr. Lindsey, who appeared as surprised as everyone else. Mama and Papa traded a look of amusement. Jamie always managed to surprise them with his antics.

“I have written a single word on each piece of paper. Everyone will draw five and make up a story using those words. Not a long story, mind you.” Jamie’s last instruction brought laughter from everyone, for he was the most talkative member of the family, even more so than Elizabeth. “No guessing involved. No contest. Just a simple story.”

Mr. Lindsey, clearly comfortable amongst them, laughed too. “You must enlighten us, Jamie. Why is your game in my honor?”

Jamie rolled his eyes. “Well, old boy, you told me charades and riddles were not for you. And you’re the one who spends his time reading
Johnson’s Dictionary.

Everyone, including Mr. Lindsey, groaned at this pronouncement.

“I do thank you, sir—” Mr. Lindsey bowed his head toward Jamie “—for creating a game I can manage with my limited intellect.”

Such modesty and good humor! Once again, Mr. Lindsey demonstrated how at ease he felt with Elizabeth’s family. She could not imagine Lord Chiselton as the object of such a playful quip. No one would dare attempt it. Even as a child, the viscount had not received jests well, unless he made them himself…about someone else.

Further, she could not imagine Lord Chiselton wrestling about on the floor with the twins, as Mr. Lindsey had done so wholeheartedly this morning. Perhaps the gravity of a title and the weight of responsibilities had molded Lord Chiselton’s character.

Yet Elizabeth could not help but recall that Mr. Lindsey also had responsibilities. Perhaps he did not sit in parliament, but he owned land and cared for his sister and brother. And even in the midst of grief over his relative’s death, he managed to be pleasant company, which was a responsibility of sorts to his host and hostess, and further proof of his good manners.

“Your draw, Beth.” Jamie held out the glass bowl.

As she drew her five words, her competitive nature emerged. Jamie might have said this was not a contest, but she would make certain she crafted the most engaging story possible.

“Oh, this is easy,” Mama said, taking the first turn. “I have court, heiress, ship, fan and happy.” She told a short tale describing how Papa had met her in faraway America, where the heroic captain of His Majesty’s Ship
Dauntless
had fallen in love with and courted an orphaned heiress, gave her a Chinese fan and made her the happiest of brides.

While everyone else applauded her lovely story, Papa
appeared to wrestle with his chosen words. At last he responded with a dramatic addition to Mama’s tale, explaining how the heiress’s revolutionary brother tried to blast the
Dauntless
out of the water during the war.

Mr. Lindsey listened with his mouth agape to the story Elizabeth’s family knew by rote, but he rebounded well by relating how a “lost” spaniel found refuge with a “kind” cottager in the midst of a “storm” and remained there all the “days” of his “life.”

“How very sweet.” Elizabeth’s eyes burned. She wondered whether he referred to himself as the spaniel…and whether he wished to stay forever in this “cottage.” And now she was stumped. The sober tone of the last two stories dissuaded her from a humorous cautionary tale about young ladies seeking husbands at Almack’s.

Even after Pru and Jamie told amusing stories that brought laughter from their listeners, Elizabeth decided to modify her original idea into a tale of gratitude for their guest.

“My words are husband, galloping, gold, chair and escape.” She eyed her parents, hoping they would not scold her. After all, this topic had not been brought up since Jamie burst into the morning room days ago. “There once was a sweet young lady, one far too trusting, I fear. She sought neither
gold
nor title, just a beloved
husband
so dear. A gentleman’s proposal she did receive, and even her parents were deceived. Without the
galloping
arrival of a brave friend, she would not have
escaped
a poor marriage in the end.” She bit her lower lip and looked down at her clasped hands. “Forgive me. I meant no jest.” She raised her eyes and saw Mr. Lindsey’s bemused expression. “Just gratitude on behalf of my dear cousin.”

“Well, little sister.” Jamie slapped his knee and chor
tled. “Although you made a pretty rhyme, you left out a word—chair, so you lose.”

Papa, whose expression had been surprisingly placid during Elizabeth’s story, lifted one eyebrow. “But this was not to be a contest. Therefore no one loses.” He grunted in his paternal way. “And I fear that in Beth’s story there are no winners, either.”

She was always pleased to have her father’s approval, but the appreciation emanating from Mr. Lindsey’s eyes was her true reward.

 

Finally, the time for the Bennington garden party arrived. As always, Elizabeth and Pru would spend the week at Bennington Manor so they could participate fully in both day and evening events. True to his word, Jamie planned to stay home with their guest, which Elizabeth found particularly generous. She had observed over these past four days that Mr. Lindsey’s influence improved her brother’s behavior and attitudes. For Jamie to choose the gentleman’s company over their aunt’s renowned party demonstrated a pleasing new maturity, a willingness to seek someone else’s benefit rather than his own. Now she would feel better about leaving their houseguest behind. Well, not entirely better, but she could think of no remedy for the situation.

“I wish circumstances were different.” She pulled on her gloves as she bade her family goodbye in the front entry hall. To Jamie and Mr. Lindsey, she said, “I should so like to have you both at the party, or have all of us stay home together.”

“I thank you, Miss Elizabeth.” Mr. Lindsey took her hand and placed a kiss on it, the first time he had shown that courtesy toward her. In fact, his gentle touch on her fingers lin
gered, as did his gaze into her eyes. “But I should be most distressed to keep you from this grand event.”

A sudden wish to stay home almost prompted her to cry off. She glanced at Pru, who wore her ever-present knowing smile. Pru would not mind missing the party, for the gentleman who owned her affections would not be in attendance. But Papa had said someone from the household must attend, or Aunt Bennington would claim they’d sided with Mr. Lindsey against Sophia, thus causing a rift in the family. Never mind that the scoundrel Mr. Whitson had caused all the grief in the first place. But then, had he not done so, she would not have met this extraordinary gentleman before her. The one who still held her hand and gazed at her so kindly.

Jamie nudged Mr. Lindsey. “They should go.”

“Oh.” Mr. Lindsey’s eyes widened as if he’d just awakened. “Of course.” He released Elizabeth’s hand and stepped back.

She and Pru said their goodbyes to Mama and Papa, giving hugs and kisses as if they were sailing to China, not traveling just six miles up the road. Then everyone followed them out the door where the landau awaited. Ginny, her lady’s maid, stood beside the carriage with an expectant smile. The girl was fairly new to service and had never traveled to Bennington Manor.

“Have a grand old time.” Jamie wiggled his fingers in a comical wave that usually indicated he planned some madcap adventure.

But it was the mischievous gleam in her brother’s eyes that stirred suspicion in Elizabeth’s mind as Mr. Lindsey handed her into the conveyance. What harmless nonsense did Jamie have in mind? And who would be his victim?

BOOK: The Wedding Season
4.77Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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