Who Brings Forth the Wind (Kensington Chronicles) (2 page)

She was just two years older than Stacy, but her marriage to

Noel Daniels, who was 24 years her senior, along with the

birth of two daughters, made her feel years older.

"I think Papa wants me to go, and I know it would make

Aunt Lucinda happy," Stacy told her.

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There goes that word again, Elena thought. Stacy must see

to it that everyone is happy. When would she see that the only

true happiness anyone could have was found in pleasing God?

"What about you, Stacy? Will it make you happy?"

Stacy's huge blue eyes were thoughtful. She knew she

could be very honest with Elena, but wasn't certain she should

be. She suspected that her grandfather would be checking

with Elena as he always did with Peters.

If the truth be told, Stacy said to herself, I would never

leave Middlesbrough and the safe haven of Papa's home.

She had never seen London with her own eyes, but the

drawings and paintings she'd studied made it look very large

and crowded.

"I think I've lost you," Elena commented, and Stacy was

swift to apologize.

"I'm sorry, Elena. I was thinking of London and how big it

must be. I'm to have three new gowns." Stacy's face took on a

look of excitement. "I'm hoping Aunt Lucinda will approve of

them."

"Will^at be enough? Maybe you should wait and shop for

a complefl wardrobe there," Elena suggested

Stacy looked doubtful. "I don't know if Papa can afford

that."

"What about your dowry?"

Stacy sighed; she'd thought of that. "He would never agree.

He's so certain that I'll marry someday."

"You could ask him."

Stacy's look of longing turned to one of fear. The question

might anger her grandfather, and she would hate that.

"Would you like me to ask him?" Elena offered, accurately

reading Stacy's mind. Quite suddenly Elena wanted Stacy's

trip to London to be very special, and thought that an extra

dress or two might help.

"No, Elena, but thank you for the offer."

Elena nodded. "I suppose you're wise to let it rest," she

commented. "You'll need that money when you marry,"

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Stacy didn't reply, not wanting to contradict Elena. It

wasn't that she was against marriage, but if the suitable young

men Stacy had grown up with were any type of gauge, Stacy

was probably right in believing that she would never be wed.

It was true that she was as sweet and lovely a girl as any

man could hope to find, but her height was a definite disadvantage.

Stacy had had numerous dreams of meeting a tall

stranger who would not be put off by her height, but so far no

such man had materialized. Maybe in London... Stacy let the

thought hang.

Elena, who had noticed Stacy's thoughtful face but not

commented on it, had her own thoughts about the men in

London--men who might flirt with Stacy, making promises

with their eyes that they never intended to keep.

Stacy had been raised in a sheltered world, one that made

her very trusting. The thought of someone hurting Stacy was so

painful for Elena that for a moment she couldn't breathe.

Maybe it was best that Stacy not have those beautiful gowns.

Both women were pulled from their thoughts when Elena's

daughters, Harmony and Brittany, suddenly entered the room.

They were thrilled to see Stacy, who was one of tU,ir favorite

relatives. After swarming into her lap, they begged their

mother to let them stay with the adults for tea. All thoughts of

London were put aside.

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"well, what do you think?" Stacy asked of Hettie. Hettie

Marks was the housekeeper for her grandfather, and had been

long before Stacy was born. She had been like a mother to her

since before her second birthday, when Stacy had come to live

with her grandfather at Morgan, their centuries-old family

estate.

"I think you'll do. Of course..." Hettie, who always had

something negative to say, added, "I've no doubt the styles in

London are quite different, and you might look like a country

mouse."

"But I am a country mouse," Stacy reasoned quietly. Hettie

could only shrug.

"You'll have to wait and see what Lady Warbrook has to

say."

These words were thrown over Hettie's shoulder as she

exited, leaving Stacy alone in her room. As soon as the door

shut, the younger woman's eyes swung back to the full-length

standing mirror.

She liked her new dress--in fact she liked all three of her

new dresses--but the overwhelming feeling that they all

looked the same hung heavy in Stacy's mind. When she had

questioned the seamstress, a Mrs. Crumb from outside the

village, the woman had assured her that the change in fabrics--

a light blue silk, a pale yellow satin, and a muted shade of red

velvet--would disguise any similarities.

Stacy had taken her at her word, but now that the dresses

were finished and ready to be worn, she wasn't so sure. Stacy

stared at herself a moment longer and then shrugged much

like Hettie had. There was little she could do about it now, and

because she was going to be visiting a woman past her sixtieth

year, Stacy assumed they would not be dining out each night of

the week.

As she changed out of her dress, Stacy's mind wandered to

her trip. She would be leaving in two days. Stacy let her

thoughts drift into another world. A world where she was

sought after. A world where a tall, dark man would fall in love

the moment he lay eyes on her and want her to be his wife.

"But then he'll want you to live in London," Stacy, straightening

suddenly, spoke aloud into the still room. "That won't

do at all."

With composed movements, and working to bring her

thoughts firmly back to reality, she pulled the hairbrush

through her hair and then headed for the door to check on

dinner preparations.

It simply won 'tdoto stand about fantasizing when there

is work to be done, Stacy told herself. Still, she was seeing a

tall, faceless man bending gallantly over her hand.

Stacy's heart thudded with dread when it was time to say

goodbye to her grandfather. Not an overly demonstrative

man, Andrew Daniels surprised Stacy by giving her a quick

hug. They were nearly of the same height, and Stacy had to

force the words from her throat when he dropped a kiss onto

her cheek and released her.

"Goodbye, Papa."

"Goodbye, Stacy. Write when you are settled."

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"Yes, Papa." She stood quietly then and just looked at him.

Andrew stared in return. His vision was better today, and

he could see the uncertainty and fear in her eyes. He kept his

own expression bland

"You're going to be fine," the old man spoke, wondering if

he would be able to, say the same for himself.

Stacy could only nod, wanting to believe him. It was such a

childlike gesture that Andrew gave her another hug, this one

quite lengthy and without words. When it was over, he stood

quietly and watched her step into his ancient carriage. He

stayed on the steps, not only until they disappeared from view,

but until he could no longer hear the carriage wheels rolling

or the sound of the horses' hooves.

Lucinda Warbrook, Countess Snow by title, surreptitiously

shifted the locket-watch that lay on her bosom and studied

the time. She'd done so every few minutes for nearly an hour.

"Stacy will be fine, Cinda," a calm male voice told her from

across the room. Lucinda's chin rose.

"Of course she'll be fine, Roddy. She is a Daniels, and all

Daniels are strong. I was merely straightening my lace."

Roddy Caruthers, Earl of Glyn and Lucinda's closest friend,

eyed her with doubt. Lucinda met his gaze for only a moment

before she relaxed and the two exchanged a smile.

"Would you like me to go to the train station and see what

might be keeping her?" He'd offered to do this twice before,

and both times Lucinda had turned him down. Now she looked

as though she might be considering it.

"It's just that I have pushed this issue with my brother, and

if anything should happen to Stacy before she even arrives--"

Lucinda broke off when Roddy stood. She was reaching for

the bellpull so Roddy's coat and hat could be retrieved when

the door opened. It was Craig, Lucinda's head servant, announcing

Stacy's arrival. Craig closed the parlor door as soon

as he'd had his say, and Lucinda looked at Roddy, a touch of

panic around her eyes.

"What have I done?" she whispered.

"You We done exactly as you should, Cinda," Roddy assured

her confidently, just as the door opened and Stacy entered.

Her face was washed with fatigue but nothing could disguise

the sweetness of her smile or the lovely blue of her eyes.

She stood quietly for inspection wearing the yellow satin

dress, her hair pulled back in a youthful style.

Even as Lucinda approached, she thought both the dress

and hairstyle too young for Stacy, but no matter; she would fix

all of that. The older woman nearly rubbed her hands together

in anticipation of dressing this magnificent creature.

"My dear Stacy," Lucinda spoke with genuine warmth as

her arms surrounded the girl.

Stacy returned the embrace, surprised and strangely relieved

to find that her aunt was just a few inches shorter than

herself.

"How was the train?" Lucinda asked as she led her to the

settee near the fire. The room was chilly, and Stacy welcomed

the warmth.

"It went well. A bit cold at times, but Milly and I snuggled

together for warmth."

"Milly?" Lucinda frowned in thought.

"Milly Binks," Stacy supplied "I traveled here with her

family."

"Of course. I remember now. She was coming to shop, I

believe."

"Yes, for her coming out."

Roddy, having taken a chair, sat quietly and listened to this

exchange with great pleasure. He'd known for years that

Lucinda wrote her brother and niece regularly and gained

steady replies in return, making this instantaneous friendship

quite natural. What he hadn't been prepared for was Stacy's

sweetness.

She was not some nauseating creature who feigned politeness

or forced good manners; she was simply a very gentle

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woman who obviously found pleasure in small things, such as

conversing with her elderly aunt.

"Oh, goodness," Lucinda's voice broke into his musings.

"You're sitting so quietly, Roddy; I nearly forgot you.

"Stacy, this is my dear friend the Earl of Glyn, Roddy

Caruthers. Roddy, this is my niece, Anastasia Daniels."

Roddy stood on this introduction, and with all the court

manners of a prince, bowed low and gently kissed the hand