Will She Be Mine

by Jessica L. Jackson

  “As I’ve said.”

  “Is Mrs. Wartle putting on the kettle? I’m sure she’d like some tea.” Thaddeus thought for a moment, trusting that his henchman would know that “she” meant Amelia and not the cook. “Do you think she’d like some teacakes? Do we have any?”

  “Cook has it in hand, sir,” Angus promised. He brushed his own handkerchief across the surface of the black shoes before setting his master’s feet on the floor. “There ye are, sir. Off with ye, now.”

  “Yes. Yes, of course,” Thaddeus murmured. He rose so quickly that he almost knocked Angus down. “Sorry.”

  “Maybe I shouldn’t have come,” Amelia said wretchedly to Mrs. Edley, who sat poker-straight in a chair beside the door, her arms folded. “What was I thinking?”

  “We can’t run off now, mum,” she pointed out sensibly. “That’d look strange, it would.”

  Amelia stood up and took a turn about the comfortably shabby parlor. Though spotlessly clean, a few frayed bits humbled the once handsome sofa. The faded chintz curtains needed replacing and one of the ladder-back chairs required re-caning.

  “I know,” Amelia murmured, pausing to rest her hand on the dark marble mantel. The door opened at last and she stiffened. First her gaze flew to meet her neighbor’s, then fell before his intensely pleased expression.

  “Am—” He stopped when he noticed Mrs. Edley. He nodded to her and then continued, “Miss Horton, what a delightful surprise.” He came toward her with a light, quick step as if he couldn’t wait to be beside her. “Did all go well with your new man of business? Did you discharge the oddly named Mr. Shufflebottom?”

  Amelia took the hand being held out to her and observed with a stutter of her heart that he had handsome, long-fingered hands. They grasped hers in a strong grip that unaccountably made her feel safe. She remembered the kiss he had pressed to her hand just last evening and blushed shyly.

  “I came to thank you, sir, for all your help,” she managed while accepting his assistance onto the sofa.

  “I’ll get you a cushion,” he murmured and collected two comfortable ones and placed them behind her back. “There. That’s better, is it not?”

  “Why, yes,” Amelia admitted, amazed. He was so matter-of-fact, as though having a pregnant unmarried woman in his front parlor was an everyday occurrence.

  “So, Farley came through for us, did he? I’m not surprised. He is a man among men.”

  “Indeed. Mr. Smith appears confident and somewhat cunning. I believe he will look after my interests admirably.”

  Thaddeus grinned and pulled a chair forward. Fortunately, he noticed before he sat that it was the broken one. He looked at it for a moment, then took it out of the room, encountering Angus in the corridor. His manservant took the broken chair from him.

  “The village fête, sir.”

  “The fête?” Thaddeus felt foolishly blank.

  “Invite the wee lass, sir,” Angus advised in a soft voice. He set down the chair. “‘Tis this Saturday.”

  “I know…I know… Do you think she might—?” Thaddeus paused, stroking his waistcoat front in nervous thought.

  “Are ye ashamed to be seen with her?” Angus’ soft accusation caused his employer to stiffen.

  “Certainly, not!”

  “Ye’ll become a hero in her eyes, sir,” Angus promised, nodding toward the mostly closed door.

  Thaddeus followed his look and saw Mrs. Edley watching them keenly, obviously overhearing every word. She nodded encouragement.

  A surprised flush skated through Thaddeus. “Do you really think so?”

  “Oh, aye.”

  Thaddeus, aglow with anticipation, repeated in a numb whisper, “Oh, aye.”

  “Off ye go, then,” Angus urged, shooing the younger man back toward the parlor.

  Thaddeus, returning to Amelia with his mind awhirl with possibilities, struggled to remember their interrupted conversation. At last he found the thread.

  “All the best solicitors are,” he observed. Her look of confusion caused him to add, “Cunning, I mean. The law can be tricky and we need men of business who are awake upon every suit.”

  “I agree. Mr. Smith handled Mr. Shufflebottom firmly and did not back down even though Mr. Shufflebottom became quite nasty at the end. I quaked in my seat, I assure you.”

  “I’m certain you accounted yourself bravely,” Thaddeus praised her. She’s in my house. She’s in my house!

  “No, not at all,” Amelia asserted. “If Mr. Smith had not been there to support me I do believe I would not have been able to discharge that bounder.” She clutched her hands together and looked away from his earnest expression. “I did not want to disappoint you, either.”

  “Amelia!” he exclaimed eagerly, moving to the edge of his seat. But upon remembering Mrs. Edley, he looked over at her and discovered she was busily examining the cornices as though she was working out how to build and install them herself. He returned his gaze to his guest. “How pretty you look today,” he praised her softly. Her countenance fairly glowed at that. Before he could say more, however, the door opened and Angus came in bearing the tea tray.

  “Ah. Tea.” Thaddeus stood and pulled the small tea table over between his chair and the sofa. Angus placed the tray on it and moved to leave the room. Thaddeus began to pour out and thought he overheard Mrs. Edley hiss at his manservant, “Thou great git! Couldn’t you’ve waited five more minutes? I could strike thee!”

  Amelia’s eyes met Thaddeus’ over the teacup rim and they both had to purse their lips to keep from laughing out loud. Though the feeling of intimacy remained, no further attempts were made to express anything more personal. They spoke of polite social nothings. Acquaintances they had in common—none. Places they’d both visited—he’d travelled extensively and she’d been almost nowhere. What were Roman gardens like? Not as interesting as Norwegian gardens. What made Norwegian gardens so fascinating? And so forth until the tea had been drunk and all the teacakes consumed.

  “Goodness,” Amelia said, jumping a little when the casement clock in the hall sounded. “How the time has flown!”

  “Yes.” Thaddeus wished the damn clock in Jericho. She was going to leave. With desperate hope, he asked, “Perhaps you’d like to see my specimens before you depart?”

  Amelia smiled and shook her head. “I really must go.” His expression remained kindly but she could see his disappointment and it thrilled her. “Perhaps another time?”

  “Indeed, yes,” Thaddeus agreed readily. He moved to her side and solicitously helped her to rise. “The next time you visit, we’ll find you a firmer seat. My sisters have told me that this sofa is the devil to get out of once they’ve reached six months.”

  “It is, a bit,” she confessed, reluctantly withdrawing her hand from his, and welcoming the ease with which he could discuss what so many others refused to even see.

  Mrs. Edley opened the parlor door, breaking the spell between them. When they all reached the front door, which Angus held open, Amelia extended her hand to her host. He took hold of it and held it firmly between his palms. He gazed down at her as if she alone could make him happy and Amelia wanted to gasp aloud in reaction.

  “Miss Horton.”

  They studiously ignored their chaperones, who were doing their best to fade into the walls anyway.

  “Yes, Mr. Milborough?”

  Thaddeus took a deep breath and then burst out, “Would you do me the honor of allowing me to escort you to the village fête this Saturday?”

  “Oh,” Amelia said in surprise.

  When she said “Oh,” again, Thaddeus was certain a refusal was imminent. His stomach twisted into a knot and then miraculously unraveled as soon as she beamed at him.

  “Mr. Milborough, it would be my pleasure.”

  He watched a pretty blush color her cheeks. “Will eleven o’clock be a good time for us to set off?”

  “Yes. Yes, thank you,” she murmured.

  Chapter Six

  Amelia
wore her favorite blue gown for the fête. Though, in truth, she wore her favorite gown for Thaddeus. She loved the tiny yellow dots she’d embroidered across the bodice. She waited in the entrance hall, perched on the very edge of a straight-backed chair, wearing a straw bonnet trimmed with a blue ribbon. A buttery-yellow cashmere shawl was draped across her shoulders and over her elbows. A small handbag in the new style, of soft kid, dyed blue, dangled from her wrist.

  She felt strange, all dressed up and waiting for a personable gentleman to arrive just as if she were still an innocent maiden going courting. Strange, but excited and also somewhat apprehensive. What would their neighbors think of her attending the fête with Thaddeus? She feared they would be shocked. Very shocked indeed.

  Mrs. Edley came through from the kitchen carrying a large basket whose contents were hidden beneath a pristine white linen cloth. Amelia raised her eyebrows.

  “It’s my lemon curd, mum. And my famous Yorkshire barmbrack. I’m aiming to win a prize this year. Mrs. Wartle can’t win every year.”

  “Both the curd and the fruit cake are delicious. I do not know how the judges can fail to award you first place.”

  “If it’s the same gormless lumps judging as last year, anything’s possible.”

  Amelia hid a smile behind her gloved hand.

  A firm knock sounded.

  “About bloody time,” Mrs. Edley muttered, forgetting herself. She opened the door and dropped a curtsy for their neighbor. “Mr. Milborough. Miss Amelia is ready.”

  “Excellent. Thank you, Mrs. Edley.”

  Amelia came around the door and gave a slight curtsy while gifting Thaddeus with a soft smile. She thought he looked very nice in his dark brown coat over a green paisley waistcoat. His tan trousers were long and strapped beneath his black, square-toed shoes. He seemed to prefer a softly styled cravat, for today he wore the bronze length of silk tied in his usual Byron knot. He grinned at her and held out his hand. She shook it but when she would have pulled back he urged her forward, drawing her hand through the crook of his arm.

  “Good morning,” Thaddeus murmured. A gleeful note underscored his simple words because, within, his entire being was dancing a jig. Amelia and I are going to the fête, his inner voice sang. Like a child before Christmas, he had barely been able to sleep the night before. “It’s a beautiful day for a fair and you look very pretty.”

  “Thank you,” she replied, blushing.

  “And you are wearing my favorite color too,” he added, leading her down the path to the road. Mrs. Edley brought up the rear.

  When they entered the lane, Angus joined them. He walked beside the housekeeper. They exchanged knowing glances. But their conspiratorial looks soon changed to glowers as they watched the expressions on the faces of their other neighbors, who were also making their way to the church. Shock and indignation warred with incredulity for place of honor. The two faithful servants heard the titters and it soon became apparent to them that the sensitive Miss Amelia heard them too.

  Amelia’s footsteps lagged. Humiliation ground through her. She’d been a fool to accept Thaddeus’ invitation. Their own neighbors did not even acknowledge her with simple nods. How could they expect the remaining villagers to accept them? Mortified, Amelia wanted to find a nearby bush and crawl underneath it like a rolled-up hedgehog. What sweet, incredible madness had driven her to subject herself, and Thaddeus too, to their community’s criticism? He didn’t deserve this. He was much too fine a gentleman to acknowledge that he had made a mistake in asking her. She must save him from his noble principles. However, before she could open her mouth to speak, he did.

  “Miss Horton. I am walking too fast for you. I do apologize and can only offer as an excuse that my feelings of exquisite pleasure in your company momentarily distracted me from your comfort.” Flushed with his own eloquence, Thaddeus directed her over beneath a towering maple where a cast iron bench awaited the weary. “Please, sit and rest a moment before we proceed. Truly, if necessary, Angus can return with the Tilbury and we can ride the remaining distance.”

  “I am not tired, Mr. Milborough,” Amelia assured him, though her heavy tone belied her words and he frowned at her. She looked up and yielded to his entreaty to rest. “Mrs. Edley must walk on. I do not want her to miss her chance to win first prize in any baking contests. I would appreciate the courtesy, however, if Mr. McLeod would stay on to maintain the proprieties.”

  “Of course.” Thaddeus moved off to give direction to their servants.

  “The wee lass is not tired, sir,” Angus whispered after they watched Mrs. Edley move briskly off toward the green. “She works in the garden most days for long hours. She’ll not be tired after a few minutes’ walk.”

  Thaddeus tore his eyes from Amelia’s pale countenance and concentrated on his manservant. Angus looked pointedly at the few straggling neighbors who hastily looked away without touching their hats or nodding their heads or smiling or lifting a finger or in any way acknowledging their presence.

  The cut indirect.

  Anger erupted to life in Thaddeus’ spleen. Seldom had he wanted to wreak vengeance on his fellow human beings but today he might make an exception. How any of these sanctimonious prigs could knowingly upset as sweet a woman as he could ever hope to hold in his arms made him want to… Well, he did not know quite what he wanted to do, but he wanted to do something. His blazing scrutiny alighted on the Misses White, who strolled behind the rest.

  “We’ll just see,” Thaddeus uttered in a low forceful voice. Plastering a welcoming smile on his face, he approached the two spinsters. “Ladies,” he said, bowing to them.

  They drew up short, unable to ignore him and unwilling to give him the cut direct. Not that ignoring him held any attraction for these two women who knew themselves to be societal leaders in Hinderwell. They too had seen the behavior of their neighbors and their hackles had risen. What right did these nobodies have to censure Miss Horton and Mr. Milborough’s behavior? Evidently, he wished to make it known that he was courting Miss Horton. They would otherwise not be openly attending the fête together. An unmarried woman in a delicate state was to be deplored, but efforts to get her married were to be applauded and assisted by any appropriate means.

  “Mr. Milborough,” the ladies chorused. They inclined their heads graciously. “We see that you are escorting Miss Horton to the fête?” Miss Ann continued.

  “I am. I saw you both and hoped that you would do us the honor of accompanying us to the church green.”

  Stiffly, Miss Sadie said, “We would be delighted.”

  Thaddeus did not think they looked delighted, but they looked determined and he could accept that gratefully. He guided the two sisters to the bench. Amelia’s eyes shone with pain as she looked from him to the Misses White and his heart ached as he realized she thought he was deliberately subjecting her to further scorn. He gave her an encouraging smile.

  “Miss Horton, look who I have come upon—Miss Sadie and Miss Ann. Without an escort.” Thaddeus held out a hand to assist Amelia in rising, which she accepted. Thank you, God, he thought, having feared that in her anger she would refuse his assistance. When she would have pulled away, he once again tucked her hand within the crook of his arm. She nodded at the spinsters. “Self, I said, this will not do,” Thaddeus continued. “I know that you will be as pleased as I, my dear Miss Horton, that they agreed to accept us as companions of the road.”

  “They are kindness itself,” Amelia murmured graciously. She squeezed Thaddeus’ arm in apology for having thought him insensitive.

  He patted her hand before offering his other to Miss Sadie. Miss Ann, instead of taking her sister’s arm, moved to Amelia’s side.

  “May I take your other arm, Miss Horton?” she enquired and lifted an imperious eyebrow. “The heat is rather too much this morning.”

  “Of course, ma’am,” Amelia said, offering her elbow. She tried to withdraw her arm from Thaddeus. “Perhaps it would be better if we walked behind. Four abreast
is an awkward arrangement.”

  “There is plenty of room,” Thaddeus insisted. I must send a dozen of my best roses to the dears, he thought.

  “Certainly there is,” Miss Sadie agreed, nodding firmly. She waved her open parasol down the lane. “Shall we? I’m parched and I’d like some lemonade.”

  “I shall fetch you all some the moment we arrive,” Thaddeus promised. He wanted to kiss the quarrelsome old cat. He’d squeeze the lemons himself if necessary. Their public acceptance of Amelia and, by default, his courtship of her, would cause a stir. But he knew that their approval of the match would lead others to accept it as well. Now all he had to do was convince Amelia.

  Chapter Seven

  Hinderwell’s church green hosted a large gathering and still had room for a variety of fun races for both the young and the more mature. Dozens of chairs were set around trestle tables erected in the shade. Canopied booths offered home-grown produce, cut flowers, baking, lemonade and even fossils collected off the beach at Runswick Bay. Local craftsmen and women had their wares displayed to advantage. A maypole awaited the dancers come late evening.

  A number of attendees had already found perches for themselves among the tables. One small group drew Thaddeus’ attention and elevated the local fête to unexpected social heights, for sitting beside Squire Minton and his lady wife were Raven Caxton, the Duke of Lipton, Kathryn, the Duchess of Lipton, and Kathryn’s son—Raven’s stepson—Lord Justin Leakesly. Thaddeus’ surprise could not have been greater. He eagerly approached his cousins, drawing his three companions after him.

  “Raven, Kathryn, Justin,” he said, grinning at them. The two men stood. The squire’s wife nudged him with her elbow and he automatically stood. Everyone bowed, nodded and curtsied. “May I introduce you to my dear friends the Misses White? Justin, I believe you have met them before. Miss White. Miss Ann White. This is His Grace, the Duke of Lipton. This is my cousin, his wife, Her Grace, the Duchess of Lipton, and their son, Lord Justin Leakesly, who is also my cousin.” More nods and curtsies. “Everyone, this is Miss Horton.”