The Ladies of Ivy Cottage

by Julie Klassen

  “Blame it on inexperience.” He winked at her, and she grinned in reply, for they both knew she had paid him very poorly indeed.

  He glanced back to see how Athena was faring on her lead. Jane did as well. The mare’s gait seemed normal, though her ears went back every time a bird flew nearby. She stayed near Sultan as though she would happily follow him anywhere.

  Gabriel looked again at Jane. “At all events, you’ve learned a lot since then and are managing The Bell well indeed by the look of things. Did I not tell you you would?”

  Yes, he had. Before he left, he took her hand in his strong, callused grip and told her he had every confidence in her. His words had echoed through her mind during his absence, when things had become difficult or she’d faced some new decision about the inn.

  Now she looked up and held his gaze. “You did. And your confidence meant a great deal—then and now.”

  “I am glad to hear it. I meant every word.”

  They emerged from the wood and rode out to Lane’s Farm, surveying the land and outbuildings. The farmhouse looked sound, though a little neglected. Nothing a bit of attention and paint couldn’t fix.

  Jane studied his profile. “What do you think?”

  His gaze swept the farmyard once more, then returned to rest on her face. “I like what I see.”

  They returned the horses to The Bell stables, Sultan and now this second horse of Gabriel’s boarding there for the time being. Gabriel applied more salve to Athena’s healing wound and changed her bandage. While Jane groomed Athena, he brushed down his new horse, then moved on to Sultan.

  Jane finished grooming Athena and gave the mare a final pat. “I’m finished here. May I help you with Sultan?”

  “Of course, if you’d like.”

  She transferred her grooming tools to one hand, opened the neighboring stall, and let herself in. In close proximity to man and horse, the masculine smells of shaving tonic, hay, and leather enveloped her.

  Taking a deep breath, she forced herself to concentrate on her task. Together they groomed Sultan, their brushes and hands moving closer, now and again their shoulders touching.

  In the adjacent stall, Athena whickered a plea for attention.

  Jane smirked. “Someone is jealous.” She expected a chuckle from Gabriel, but he was silent beside her.

  She looked up at him. His face so near. So unexpectedly . . . tense. The air between them thickened and sparked.

  “Jane . . .” he whispered.

  His warm breath on her temple made her skin tingle. She lowered her gaze. “Yes, Gabriel?”

  She noticed the lapels of his waistcoat were crooked and idly straightened them with her free hand, fingers lingering.

  When she looked up, she found his dark eyes riveted to hers. Her heart hammered. He reached out and cupped the side of her face, his intense gaze moving to her mouth. She waited, holding her breath. . . .

  A coach horn blared in the stable yard. Jane lurched back.

  From the nearby bunk room, ostlers groaned and rustled into action.

  “I had better go.” Embarrassed and uncertain, Jane hurried from the stall.

  She returned to the lodge to change from her habit—and to put some distance between her and Mr. Locke.

  Rachel asked Miss Matilda to teach her how to make apple tarts now that the fruit was in ample supply. She agreed and together they braved Mrs. Timmons’s ire and took over her kitchen. Following Miss Matty’s instructions, Rachel pared and cored apples, boiled them in a little water, added bruised cinnamon, grated sugar, and lemon peel, and left them to simmer while they turned their attention to the pastry. An hour later, the Ivy Cottage kitchen was a floury, cinnamon-scented disaster, but Rachel had made her first gifts of food.

  She took one tart to the Mullins family, and the other to Mrs. Haverhill. Rachel suspected her first attempt at baking made Matilda Grove look like a renowned chef de cuisine.

  The Mullins accepted theirs graciously. Mrs. Haverhill less so. She said, “Thank you, Rachel. But you needn’t have done that. You know I don’t like accepting charity.”

  Rachel smiled fondly at the woman. “I know. But when you taste it, you will see it is a very humble offering indeed.”

  Upon her return to Ivy Cottage, Rachel discovered that invitations had arrived for Miss Bingley’s coming-out ball—she, Mercy, and Matilda had each received one.

  When Rachel closed the library the next afternoon, she stopped in the schoolroom to ask Anna Kingsley to come to her bedchamber when she could, then continued to her room. There, she spread several evening gowns on her bed, trying to decide which to wear to the ball. She had not had a new dress since their financial calamity, and wondered which of her old gowns would pass for still-in-fashion, yet be appropriate for a woman whose father died five months before. Rachel had earned a little money from her library but could not spend it. With the library likely to close soon, she would have to be prepared to pay back partial subscriptions.

  A knock sounded. Rachel expected Anna, but instead Jane’s voice called, “Rachel? It’s Jane.”

  Rachel opened the door with a smile. “Jane, come in. What a lovely surprise.”

  “I hope you don’t mind. Miss Matty told me you were up here.”

  “I don’t mind at all. In fact, you can help me choose what to wear to Miss Bingley’s ball.”

  Jane’s gaze swept the gowns on the bed, then she picked up the pink gown from out of the trunk before Rachel could close the lid. She held it out and studied it. “I remember this dress. You wore it to your own coming-out ball.” Jane studied the pink silk, fitted bodice, feminine neckline, and white lace trim.

  “I also remember that Timothy Brockwell could not keep his eyes off you when you wore it.”

  Rachel stiffened. Did Jane resent that? But when she looked over, she was relieved to see Jane’s eyes twinkled.

  “And so courtly and formal in his manners that night. As if you were a stranger he’d just met for the first time. An important stranger.”

  Jane held the dress up to Rachel. “I think I knew right away that he was in love with you.”

  “Did you really?”

  “Yes. And it was more than the dress. As sad as your mother’s illness was, you grew so much over those difficult years—in beauty and grace and responsibility. You became the lady of Thornvale and a lady in Timothy’s eyes. It just took this dress to make him see all the changes in you. And become aware of his feelings toward you.”

  Jane sighed and laid the dress on the bed with the others. “I should have acknowledged it straightaway. Freed him to court you. But it took me a little while to come to terms with the change. Thankfully, John Bell was there to woo me into doing just that. He looked at me the way Timothy looked at you.”

  Rachel opened her mouth to apologize, but Jane shook her head. “No. It’s all right. I think I’ve known for a long time that Timothy and I would not be suited as husband and wife. Though dear friends, yes, always. He knows it too. He may have allowed his mother to talk him out of marrying you after the scandal, but he won’t let her stall him forever. At least I hope not. I want you both to be happy.”

  “Oh, Jane. We argued terribly. I told him I was glad to have escaped the noose of marrying a Brockwell. If he ever intended to propose, he won’t now!”

  Jane looked at her in astonishment. “What? When was this?”

  “A few weeks ago. He was so sure I still hoped for a proposal from him after all this time.”

  “Well, don’t you?”

  “Yes . . . if I thought he loved me. But he has never said so. Instead he told me his family had reservations about my suitability even before the scandal. I know I should not have let my pride get the better of me, but I grew so angry.”

  Jane winced. “You know how pragmatic Timothy is. He probably had no idea the effect his words had on you.”

  “Well, I left him with no doubt of their effect or of my offended feelings.”

  “But you still love him,
don’t you?” Jane asked gently.

  Rachel exhaled a deep breath. “I do. I cannot help it.”

  “And Mr. Ashford?”

  Rachel shook her head. “I told him I could not accept his offer. I hated to do it, but would it not hurt him worse to marry a woman who loved someone else?”

  “You did the right thing. And as far as Timothy is concerned, you know his parents have always held great sway over him. He feels duty bound to marry well, to put his family first.”

  “I do know. But if I were to be his wife, I would be part of his family. I don’t relish the notion of living under Lady Brockwell’s disapproving sway all of my life. At all events, I shan’t have to, because we have parted ways. He was probably relieved. He wished me health and happiness and and went on his way. I believe he may have shifted his attentions to Arabella Awdry.”

  “Oh, Rachel. I am sorry. Shall I talk to him?” Before Rachel could reply, Jane raised her hand. “No. Forgive me. I have stood between you too often over the years. I won’t butt in now. But may I make one suggestion?”

  “Of course.”

  Jane picked up the pink dress again. “Wear this to the Bingleys’ ball. Remind him. It would certainly signal your interest.”

  Rachel shook her head. “I considered that, Jane. But I have decided against it.”

  “Oh? Then, what will you—”

  Anna Kingsley knocked on the door and poked her head inside. “You wanted to see me, Miss Ashford?”

  “Yes, Anna. Come in. Have you met Mrs. Bell?”

  “How do you do, ma’am.”

  Jane greeted her politely, then Rachel explained, “Anna here will be celebrating her eighteenth birthday soon, and her parents are taking her to a public ball in Salisbury to mark the occasion.”

  Jane smiled. “How exciting. We attended a few of those ourselves at your age.”

  Rachel took the pink dress from Jane. “Anna, I would like you to have this dress.”

  Anna’s lips parted. “Ohhh . . . miss. It is so lovely. But I couldn’t.”

  Rachel noticed Jane’s mouth open in surprise as well.

  “Of course you can. I want you to have it.”

  “It’s too fine for me. It’s too much.”

  “Please. I insist. If you like it, that is.”

  “How could I not? It’s beautiful.”

  Rachel held it up to her, much as Jane had held the dress up to Rachel. “I think it will look so well with your coloring. It should be worn by someone as young and lovely as you are, going to her first ball.”

  She glanced at Jane and saw her friend watching her closely.

  “Don’t you agree, Jane?”

  “I . . . yes. If you are quite certain.”

  “I am. Why not go and try it on, Anna, and we can see if it needs to be taken in.”

  The girl’s eyes gleamed. “Thank you, miss. I can’t wait to show Miss Grove.” Taking the dress with her, Anna hurried from the room.

  Rachel again felt Jane’s gaze on her profile and looked over.

  “I know how much that dress meant to you, Rachel. It was kind of you, but . . . I am surprised you could part with it.”

  “Me too,” Rachel admitted. “It was time, I think.”

  “Then what will you wear to the Bingleys’?”

  From the bed, Rachel tentatively lifted an ivory dress with lace trim at the neck and panels of rich gold embroidery.

  Jane drew in a breath. “Look at that embroidery! It’s beautiful.”

  Rachel nodded. “I have always thought so. It was my favorite of my mother’s.” She ran her hand over the lustrous satin. “I thought perhaps Mrs. Shabner might remove the lace, as it has yellowed, and modify the bodice to be more in keeping with current fashion. And perhaps replace the ribbon trim at the waist as well. It is a little frayed.”

  Jane looked at it more closely. “Yes, I see what you mean.” She traced a finger along the embroidered pattern. “This dress is so elegant, Rachel. I think it will suit you well.”

  “It is more suited to a woman of my years, do you mean?”

  “More suited to a woman of your grace and beauty,” Jane clarified.

  “Are you sure I won’t look like a dowd?”

  “I’m sure, though Mrs. Shabner won’t appreciate not receiving an order for a new dress.”

  “No, she won’t. She will probably grumble and threaten to retire or move to Wishford, as she has done for as long as I’ve known her.”

  “Me too. But she knows you are not in a position to spend a large sum on a new dress right now. In Ivy Hill, few are. Present company included.”

  Half serious, Rachel teased, “Do you promise to wear something old and unflattering, so Timothy is not tempted to look at you instead?”

  “There is no danger of that, I assure you. Especially as I have not been invited.”

  “What? Oh no. I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be. I don’t mind.”

  Rachel tilted her head and regarded her friend. “You know, I almost believe you. You look rather happy. Has something happened? I know Mr. Drake was paying you a great deal of attention not long ago, but . . .”

  Jane shook her head. “Not serious attention.”

  “I am sorry if he has disappointed you.”

  “No. He has not injured me. I like James. But there is someone else I like a great deal more.” She looked up from beneath her lashes, eyes sparkling.

  “Oh, Jane! Who? Do I know him?”

  “Not likely! But I shan’t say more. Not yet, in case . . . Well, I only mention the possibility so that you don’t worry about me where Mr. Drake is concerned, nor hesitate where Timothy is concerned.”

  “Are you certain?”

  “I am.”

  Rachel walked downstairs with Jane. As they reached the vestibule, Mr. Basu opened the front door for Colin McFarland, then slipped away again.

  Colin removed his hat and greeted the ladies. “I am here for another lesson, though I am a few minutes early.”

  Rachel glanced over her shoulder to the open sitting room door. “I don’t think Miss Kingsley is down yet.”

  Footsteps caused Colin to look toward the stairs behind them. His eyes widened and his lips parted.

  Rachel turned to see what had captured his attention. There came Anna Kingsley down the steps in the pink dress. The bodice would need to be taken in a bit, Rachel saw at once, but even so, the girl looked charming in it.

  Anna beamed her bright, toothy grin. “What do you think?”

  “You look beautiful,” Rachel assured her.

  “That she does,” Colin murmured.

  Anna noticed him then, and her smile fell. “Oh! Mr. McFarland, I am so sorry. I quite forgot the time. I’ll just go and change.”

  He slowly shook his head. “Not on my account . . .”

  Rachel and Jane shared a secret smile at that and continued to the door.

  That evening, Jane was again at the reception desk when Gabriel entered the inn.

  He laid his hands on the counter. “I would like a room here in the inn, if you don’t mind. At full price, of course.”

  She blinked in surprise. “Is the stable bed so uncomfortable? You did not complain before.”

  “I am not complaining now. In fact, I rather missed that small hard bed and hearing Tuffy snore all night through thin walls”—he winked—“but it is not my place to sleep among the horsemen. I am no longer in your employ.”

  When Jane hesitated, he stepped back. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, Jane. I can take a room in Wishford, if you prefer.”

  “And help my competition? Heavens, no.”

  “Are you certain?”

  She opened the registration book and slid it toward him. With a measuring glance at her, he picked up the quill and signed.

  She selected a key from the drawer and asked, “Any idea how many nights?”

  “Not yet.”

  “That’s all right. I will put you in number four. It’s not the bi
ggest room, but it has one of the new feather beds and is most comfortable.”

  “Thank you.”

  She stepped around the counter, wondering if she should wait for Colin to return and show Gabriel to his room. But Colin was off polishing boots and would not be back for several minutes.

  “This way. Watch your head.” She led Gabriel through the archway and upstairs. She was glad she no longer had to warn guests about the uneven step or loose handrail, or be embarrassed about curling wallpaper, all of which had been repaired. She was, however, still self-conscious as she climbed the stairs ahead of a male guest—especially this particular male. She had not felt so nervous about showing a man to his room since she had shown JD to his months before.

  She reached number four and opened the door. “After you.”

  Inside, she pointed out the basin and towels, then started in on her usual speech about the location of the privy and dining room but stopped midsentence. “How foolish. You already know all this.”

  “Not at all. I enjoy seeing you perform your role so capably.”

  “Well, I will ask Alwena to bring hot water. If you need anything else, just let us know.”

  “I know where to find you.”

  Jane looked up at him and was disconcerted to find Gabriel’s dark gaze boring into hers, just as it had in the stable. Her throat tightened. She reached for the door latch and backed from the room. “I shall leave you to get settled.” She gave him a parting smile and said with mock formality, “Enjoy your stay at The Bell, Mr. Locke.”

  His expression remained serious. “I hope I shall, Mrs. Bell.”

  Mrs. Burlingame’s cart arrived right on time the next morning, and Thora went to open the door. Hetty carried her daughter inside, set her down, and unfastened her little coat.

  Betsey’s face broke into a smile when she saw Thora. “To-tah,” she called, reaching for her.

  Thora’s heart surged with pleasure. She bent low and stretched out her hands. Betsey toddled over and wrapped her arms around Thora’s neck.

  Thora scooped her up and straightened, smiling into the little girl’s face. “And how are you today, my girl?”