Walter’s frown deepened. He took his time to refresh his cup, adding only a light splash of milk, no sugar or honey. Temptation had him wanting to drink it black just to make a point.
“However thoughtful your offer, I prefer to be personally involved. I have in mind a location midway between my home and London, enabling me to visit as frequently as I need while providing reasonable access from the city. I can’t see the Allshire orphanage providing those benefits.” A reasonable answer, he decided. Not unkind. Truthful. Pointed.
“Yes, I can see you’re an intelligent man, my lord, far more intelligent than I could ever dream of being, but consider my experience. Sacrificing proximity for quality would ensure your continued happiness in the investment.”
“Hmm. So, you believe a facility I design would lack in quality?”
Eyes wide, Mr. Sands answered with a panicked edge to his voice. “Oh, no, no, no, that wasn’t what I was suggesting. Merely, I do have experience. Valuable experience. It’s unlikely you could find someone to oversee this kind of investment who would be trustworthy. And you must consider trust. I won’t be the one to speak ill of my fellow man, but not everyone can be trusted with funds.”
“And you’re trustworthy?” Walter asked, the voice of innocence.
“Yes, yes, I would ensure your donation is appropriately utilized. You need never worry over accounts or site visits with me on hand.” Smug after his appeal, the rector finished his liquid confection.
“It’s a pity, then, that I’ve already entrusted my secretary with the task. He sent word yesterday morning with the details of a purchase I plan to make of a site large enough to accommodate the home I envision. Had you appealed to me sooner, I might have been moved, but alas, the deed is done, or as good as.” Walter felt no love lost with the rejection.
“Ah, yes, a great pity.” Mr. Sands slumped in his chair, chewing on his defeat.
“It’s fortunate for you that Roddam’s sister grew up in the orphanage,” Walter said.
Feigning ignorance, the rector said, “Fortunate? Why, yes, she has returned in abundance all she received from being accepted into the home.”
“You mistake my meaning.” Walter paused to watch the man’s eyebrows inch heavenward. “Had she not been at this orphanage, Lord Roddam would not be a patron.” As an aside he added, “Nor would I be here.”
“Yes, the Lord works in mysterious ways. He brought our dear Lilith to us,” he said with a familiar emphasis to her given name, “in order for his lordship to discover the joys of patronage. Now that he has seen how well-handled have been his donations, he will undoubtedly wish for me to continue to act on his behalf.”
What a vain, arrogant man.
Walter crossed his arms over his chest, signaling the end of the discussion. Mr. Sands either did not understand or chose to ignore the motion.
“Lord Collingwood,” he began before a slight pause as he tapped a finger to his mouth. “I’m here as your friend and confidant. Perhaps you want to reconsider my offer. Only a small donation need be made now. When you see how enrichingly satisfying it is to help others, you may consider giving more.”
Idly swinging the foot of his crossed leg, Walter said, “And why should I reconsider your offer when I’ve already given a polite no?”
The man had the audacity to giggle.
“It does a man good to know there are those who will safeguard his, er, indiscretions.”
Walter sat up, uncrossing his legs and resting his forearm on the table.
“I do beg your pardon,” he said to the rector.
“With the smallest of donations, my lord, I would be willing to overlook the unsavory use of my cottage.”
Good Lord!
“Let me make myself clear, Mr. Sands. My intentions towards Lady Lilith are honorable. I don’t appreciate your insinuation.”
The wretched man’s smile widened, contorting his features in a most unbecoming fashion.
“Ah, then you do not know. I understand.” Like a man holding a winning deck of cards, Mr. Sands leaned forward and spread his palms flat on the table. “I speak to you as a friend, you must understand. Beware of deception. Ensure you are not compromised. There are those who would take advantage of your station. I know this all too well. For you see, the position of rector’s wife is highly coveted.”
Leaning further against the table, his face level with the teacup, Mr. Sands said sotto voce, “I say this only out of concern for you. At one point, our Lilith set her cap for that very honored position. I was, you must understand, already courting someone of my own age and station. And though I love all in my flock, I could never marry someone so, er, desperate. I believe her age and circumstances are of consideration.”
Walter drummed his fingers against the table, fixing the rector with a steely gaze. “And of what circumstances do you refer?”
“I’m not at liberty to disclose the specifics. However, I invite you, my lord, to consider why she hasn’t moved in with Lord Roddam, as a sister of her supposed station would do. Do not be seduced by her charms, Lord Collingwood. Her history at the orphanage is enough to ruin your family’s reputation, but her secrets would cause a far greater scandal. I assumed you knew of her situation. And so, you must understand how easily I misunderstood your visit alone to the cottage.”
His blood boiling, he breathed in through his nose and out through his mouth to calm the rage. It would do no good to overturn Mr. and Mrs. Hill’s table. Only when he had his temper in check did he speak.
“My understanding, Mr. Sands, is that it behooves you to discourage a good match to ensure Lady Lilith remains in the parish, considering she is the only reason Lord Roddam is a patron.”
“Pride goeth before destruction, and a haughty spirit before a fall, my lord.” The rector rose from his chair, his smile welded in place, his hands clasped in prayer. “All in my parish are expected to act with decorum. The cottage, you must understand, is mine, let out of kindness. Dalliance in my cottage will not do.”
Pressing his index fingers to his mouth, Sands thought in silence before adding, “I come to you today as a friend. I warn you of a serpent in your garden. That serpent is Adam’s first wife. Look to the hidden texts of Genesis, my lord. Adam’s first wife was equal, wanton, enchanted. God cast her out, but she returned as the serpent. And her name was Lilith. Heed my warning. Let the next time I come to you still be as a friend. I bid you a good day.”
With a slight bow, the rector left Walter in peace.
Walter’s fingers continued to drum, his glare boring a hole into the back of the empty chair.
Chapter 18
The morning of the fête, Jasper romped beside Lilith for the short walk to the orphanage, looking up at her adoringly every few steps. His tail wagged, his ears flopped, and his feet stumbled. But he kept pace.
Ah, but the scents of the world! So enticing! So distracting! After a quick glance to Lilith, he leapt in the opposite direction to explore a delectable scent just on the other side of a tree.
With a laugh and shake of her head, Lilith followed the scoundrel.
“Jasper,” she called. “Come.”
He ignored her, on a determined hunt for the source of the scent.
Scooping him into her arms, she said, “You’re unabashedly delinquent.”
He awarded the scold with a tail wag and tongue loll. Puppy hoisted to her side, she headed into the orphanage, her first stop the office she shared with Miss Tolkey.
For the past week, Jasper had accompanied her everywhere. Her patients enjoyed his company during the rounds, and the children fawned over him during the lessons. The new game was that the most well-behaved pupil got to hold him. She was not sure how long that trick would last, but so far, the children were vying to be the most well-behaved.
When she entered the office, she was surprised to find Miss Tolkey behin
d the desk, grading papers. The girl looked up, but instead of greeting Lilith with her customary smile, she jerked her head back to the paper before her, her quill working furiously across the page.
“Good morning!” Lilith said, chipper in tone.
For the entirety of the week, she had been feeling inexplicably happy. There was a sudden sense of rightness about her life. She could not explain it aside from Walter. Or Jasper. Or both. Perhaps it was to do with being home, as well, and back to her midwifery, though she could not credit her contentedness to that when she did not feel as at home as she ought.
Something had shifted in the village. Being excluded from the fête planning was a blow to her ego. It was not the first sign of distress. Many of her friends had trouble of late looking her directly in the eye. The unusual part was she was uncertain if the shift happened with her or with them. Had she changed? Was she seeing them for how they had always treated her? Or were they seeing her differently? However it was, she could not credit the parish for her happiness.
Lilith stood in the doorway, Jasper wriggling at her side, he eager to discover new smells, she staring at the top of Miss Tolkey’s mousy brown head.
“Good morning, Miss Tolkey,” she repeated. “Are you excited for the fête? I could scarce sleep last night for excitement.”
Silence was her reply.
Shrugging off the behavior under the assumption her companion did not wish to break her concentration, Lilith set down Jasper so he could waddle his way around the office, smelling every corner and object in sight. She dug through the drawers of her desk for the morning’s lesson.
There would not be time for much before the festivities began, and the children would undoubtedly not hold focus, but she had to try. Her plan was to assign them math homework concerning the fête. They would count the numbers of people, pies, wins, and other such figures and use those to help practice their tables.
Unearthing the math lesson and a spare bit of parchment in which to scribble the homework, she set about her task. And then paused.
“If you’re not with the children, then who is?” Lilith asked.
Not quite meeting her eyes, Miss Tolkey said, “Mrs. Copeland.”
She offered no other explanation.
Fanning a quill feather against her chin, Lilith studied the girl. Had her grandmother taken another turn? Jasper curled up at Lilith’s feet, exhausted from all the excitement of new and old smells. She leaned down to scratch his ears then prepared her quill.
Five or more minutes passed before Miss Tolkey spoke up of her own accord. “I’ll be taking over Mrs. Willard’s care. Mrs. Leland’s, as well.”
Lilith looked up, wide-eyed, but only the top of the brown head with its perfectly straight part looked back.
“Goodness, but why? Are you ready? You’ve not yet looked after a patient alone.”
Miss Tolkey shrugged, back to her grading.
Lilith said nothing for a stretch. Only last Tuesday, she had tended to Mrs. Leland. The woman had been distracted but kind. Lilith replaced her quill in its holder.
“I think it grand you’ve made connections. Stay for tea after church, and we’ll look over the patient notes. You’ll need to know the difficulties Mrs. Willard faced with her first child, and I’ll want to discuss all you should watch for with Mrs. Leland since this is her first.”
“No, thank you,” was all Miss Tolkey said.
Reaching down for Jasper, Lilith hauled him to her bosom and cradled him for a sleepy belly rub.
“Is it your grandmother? You seem out of sorts,” Lilith said.
“My grandmother is well, thank you. I must decline tea. It wouldn’t be proper. Oh, and you needn’t walk me to church anymore. The Reverend Sands has agreed to see me to and from church every Sunday.”
“That is most kind of him. But tea? Why ever would it be improper?” Lilith swallowed against the lump in her throat. It sank like a stone in her stomach.
“I know all about you,” Miss Tolkey hissed, her quill’s ink forming a dark puddle on the paper. “I saw with my own eyes your protector leaving your cottage. Don’t fib or deny. I also know you’ve pressured Harry for marriage. Are you in trouble? Will his lordship not do right by you? You should’ve known better. Men such as he don’t marry women such as you. And so, you must guilt a good man into marriage? You may think I’m young and innocent, but I’m not blind or stupid, Miss Chambers. You’re a wicked woman who’s brought sin into a good man’s cottage. I’ll thank you to leave me be.”
Lilith sat, stunned, her jaw slackened, her hand still against Jasper’s tummy.
There was no way of knowing what the rector said or what Miss Tolkey saw, for Lilith would not ask. Not that it mattered.
How foolish of her. She could scarcely be angered at the rector since it had been she who had invited the reluctant Walter inside the cottage unchaperoned, assuming that was the incident to which Miss Tolkey referred.
Though she knew it was improper to have invited him in, she did not see why it was cause for accusation. She was a grown woman! Most of the parishioners had visited her cottage at one point or another for tea, conversation, or advice. What was different about Walter?
It was not as though she had done anything wrong. Not exactly. Not entirely. And yet, Miss Tolkey thought them lovers! That she was his mistress! How lowering. He had made it clear to all he was courting her, not employing a mistress. But there it was. One of her dearest friends saw her as a seductress, a woman of loose morals.
Then, why would any of them think a baron would court her? She was an orphan. An orphan of questionable lineage. She was nobody.
Rising from her seat, Jasper licking her fingers to encourage more belly rubbing, she left Miss Tolkey alone, closing the door quietly behind her, the lesson remaining forgotten on the desk.
Confused, angry, embarrassed, Lilith marched to the classroom to collect the children for the fête. No longer did she care to give them homework or teach a quick lesson on their tables. Let them enjoy the day for what it was.
Her hand on the doorknob, she paused, inhaling deeply to calm her spirit. Her eyes closed. She would not bring her anger into the room. Opening the door as silently as she could so as not to disturb Mrs. Copeland’s teaching, she entered the back of the room and stealthily clicked the door closed behind her.
Only, it was not Mrs. Copeland sitting at the front, though she stood off to one side, observing. It was Walter. Lilith’s heart pounded. Miss Tolkey forgotten, Lilith stared at him in amazement.
There he sat in tailored finery, reading. A collection of grubby children gathered about him.
His voice soft, dramatic, every few words paused for dramatic effect, he read, “‘As soon as you enter the great door of Guildhall, look up.’”
She recognized the tiny book in his hands, no larger than a thumb, The Gigantick History of the Two Famous Giants.
He read with animation, looking from one child to the next between pauses, waggling his eyebrows, and acting altogether like there was nowhere else he would rather be. She ignored the wriggling Jasper. She was struck dumb, immovable. His gaze met hers, and though he did not stop reading, his eyes twinkled a smile of their own.
And she knew.
She loved him.
For some time, she had been in love with him, though she could not say for how long. Maybe as far back as when she caught him unawares running along the Embleton beach, or maybe as recently as when she saw him knee-deep in her garden. For however long, she had been in love. But now…. Now was different. Her soul sang. Her heart filled. Her eyes teared. She belonged with him.
“Puppy!” came the shout that shattered the moment.
All faces turned, seconds before a storm of children raged towards her, their narrator forgotten, arms stretched for Jasper. She set him down, his tail vibrating. He greeted his fans with a woof.
Walter escorted Lilith to the village green, her arm tucked under his, Jasper prancing beside them. Mrs. Copeland had agreed to take the orphans to the festival. It was a blessing they were invited to attend. Walter suspected Sir Gene invited Mrs. Copeland after Roddam made such a fuss about being a patron. The man was not unwise. Walter would shake his hand heartily for it, since it enabled him to have Lilith to himself. Roddam was not so lucky. The poor man had been accosted earlier in the day by Sir Gene and Lady Graham who insisted he spend the day at their side.
For Walter, the day held promise. Egg-and-spoon races, a needlework contest, archery competitions, strongman competitions, boat races, tug-of-war, three-legged races, and so much more. Walter was to judge the pie contest, though he could not imagine Mrs. Hill would have stiff competition.
Each booth and competition teemed with people. Children ran about the green, leapfrogging, chasing each other, and flying kites. The fête was alive with frivolity.
Despite his surroundings, Walter had eyes only for Lilith. She smiled shyly at him from time-to-time, wearing one of her less threadbare sprigged muslins, a straw bonnet adorning her head, an aura of bashfulness glowing her cheeks. She had not said anything about his surprise visit to the orphanage. He hoped he had not overstepped by coming to her place of employment.
The children had been welcoming, eager for attention. Never had he thought reading to a group of children would be so satisfying, and yet he could not unsee their bright faces, lit with adoration. One girl had insisted she hold his hand for the whole of the reading. One little boy had picked his nose from start to finish. An older child, an adolescent really, had crossed his arms and rolled his eyes except when Walter was not looking at him, for in those moments, he leaned forward to better hear the story, likely imagining himself touring London as Walter described it. A dark-haired girl had caught his attention straight away. Upon seeing her, Walter imagined Lilith as a frightened girl, ripped from her family and tossed into the fray.
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