by Kim Bowman
Anna and Mr. Warner walked along the path, quite close to one another. As close as two people could walk side by side without physically touching.
“Yes.” She smiled. “I believe you are right.”
“Do you think they would notice if we rested here for a time?” He pointed toward a bench nestled beneath a large tree.
Another glance at Anna and her new friend showed them still walking. Mr. Warner had placed his hand lightly on her shoulder. “No, I don’t think they would notice if a thunderstorm crashed about them.”
Lucy settled on the bench and laid her reticule on the seat between them. That, at least, would give a little space and would hopefully stave off any talk of impropriety of the few other groups of people who walked about the Sanctuary.
Chiff-chaff! Chiff-chaff!
Startled, Lucy jumped. “Goodness, what was that?”
Grinning, Mr. Barrow pointed above them. “Surprisingly enough, it’s called a chiff-chaff. One of a few birds who actually says its own name.”
She tilted back her head to better see the bird a few feet above them. A small songbird perched on a spindly branch. Its head and wings were brown and its belly was yellow.
“How can such a small being have such a big voice?”
“It’s amazing, isn’t it? Their whole inside must be lungs.”
She giggled and lowered her gaze. And gasped. How had her hand gotten on his arm? Yanking her hand away, her face heated. Again. Mr. Barrow would surely think she spent half of her time in a full blush. Had that seemed rude when she’d pulled her hand away? She didn’t want to hurt his feelings. “Well… what do these birds — chiff-chaffs — eat?”
A smile as bright as the sunshine lit Mr. Barrow’s face. The wonderful dimple again made an appearance. He must delight in discussing the birds. It seemed she could not have asked a better question to ease any discomfort between them after yanking her hand away.
“The chiff-chaff’s main diet is insects.”
“Hmm. That doesn’t sound appealing.” She scrunched her nose.
Laughing, he shook his head. “Not to us it wouldn’t. However, they love it. And their favorite? Are flies.”
She grimaced. “How detestable.”
“I agree. To them, though, it’s like the sweetest honey.”
“That’s hard to imagine.” A few seconds went by. She didn’t want their conversation to end. “What else can you tell me about these birds, Mr. Barrow?”
He paused. “Are you sure you want to know?”
“Of course. Is there something special, something unique about them?”
His face reddened. What could be so bad that he might be embarrassed to say it? “I… they… you see, chiff-chaff… when they return for their second, um, breeding season there is no recognition of the mate they had before. It’s quite sad, really.”
She swallowed. “I… see. Yes, that is sad.”
“On a brighter note, while the, uh, couple is together for a season, there is never any polygamy.”
“Ah…” Her breath caught in her throat. Thoughts of that… Doing that… brought images of Mr. Barrow wrapping her in his muscular arms and pulling her close… so close she could smell mint on his breath, his lips touching hers, first lightly… then more pressure, until—
“…Miss Ashbrook?”
“Wh-what?”
“I asked if you were well.”
“Oh. Yes. I’m… quite well.” Reaching into her reticule, she grabbed her fan. “It’s… hot today, is it not?”
He ran his finger inside of his collar. “Yes. Quite… quite hot.” He looked away. “Perhaps you would like to continue our walk?
She jumped up from the bench as if sitting on hot coals. “Yes! Um, yes, that would be nice. Thank you.”
There was no sound save their footsteps on the path and the twitters and chirps of nearby birds. Lucy wished the day could go on forever. But she’d only just met this man yesterday. Why did it seem as if she’d always known him? While at the same time, as though she had been searching for him the whole of her years? Was this what her mother felt for her father? They had such a wonderful, caring marriage. Did they begin their courtship like this? Father had indicated it took them years to fall in love. But had there been something that sparked an immediate interest between them?
Courtship. She was getting ahead of herself. They were newly acquainted. And even though she cared not a whit, her father would not approve of her relationship with a common laborer. He’d always made it known that she would marry someone of her own station or higher.
As much as she admired and was attracted to Mr. Barrow, they could never be more than friends. A deep, stirring sadness wrapped around her heart. Just when she’d found a man who brought out in her a longing so deep, so profound, that if he asked for her hand this day, she would agree, it could not happen because of her wealth. And his lack thereof.
Life was not fair.
“Lucy? Come here, dear.” Anna was waving her over to the pond. She and Mr. Warner appeared content in each other’s company. If they chose to someday be a couple, to marry, society would not bat an eye. Because they were both of the working class.
But Mr. Barrow…
It would do her no good to dwell on it. The problem would not resolve itself. Could never resolve itself. So if friendship was all she could have with him, friends they would indeed be.
“Coming, Anna.”
She and Mr. Barrow walked toward the pond. Was he disappointed their private talk had ended? Lucy certainly was. They reached Anna and Mr. Warner. Why did they want to meet at the pond? Warmth spread through her as Mr. Barrow lightly guided her across the grass with his hand at the small of her back. Oh, to have him touch her hand and face as well.
The older couple stood side by side, shoulders touching, as if hiding something behind them. What in the world?
A growing sense of unease crept over Lucy. Had someone fallen in the pond? Or had a poor bird come to its demise? But why would Anna wish her to see something like that?
Then they stepped apart. Lucy’s unease turned to mirth. Mr. Barrow, standing at her side, chuckled.
Anna pointed behind her. “Lucy, pardon me, but is that goose wearing… your hat?”
Chapter Five
Three weeks later
Conrad Croome hurried from his carriage to the Ashbrook home. Why had he received a note from Lucy’s father? Marked as urgent? Had something happened to Lucy? If he didn’t convince her to marry him, he’d lose out on her inheritance. And he had plans for that money. Big plans! The wait was unbearable. Something had better happen quickly, or else.
Before he’d even raised his hand to knock on the door, it opened. Alfred, the butler, stood ramrod straight in the doorway.
“Alfred, I received a message from—”
“Yes, my lord. He’s waiting for you in his study.”
Without thanking the other man, Conrad rushed to the second door on the right. He knocked.
“Come in.”
Opening the door, he wasn’t sure what to expect. Has Ashbrook finally convinced Lucy to marry me? Or has he given in to his daughter’s wishes, as he always does.
“Lofton, Have a seat.”
“Certainly, Jeffrey.”
Ashbrook bristled. “You received my message.”
“Yes.”
“It has come to my attention that you may have competition.”
“Pardon?”
“For Lucy’s hand.”
“But… she didn’t choose any of her prospective suitors from her season.” Thank goodness. “And so far has declined my proposal.” He glanced down and flicked a tiny piece of lint from his coat. “But may I remind you that you’ve yet to uphold your end of our bargain?”
“There’s someone else. Someone new.”
Conrad frowned. Anger built up in his chest, threatening to burst through his ribs. He clenched his jaw and his fists. “But who? I know everyone of our circle, and Lucy—”
> “It’s not someone with whom we are familiar. I know nothing about the man. I’ve not heard his name before.”
“Then…”
“He’s someone she met at the Regent’s Park Bird Sanctuary.”
“She told you this?”
“No. Of course not. I… overheard her speaking to Anna, who coincidentally, seems to have found a love interest as well. Those two have been visiting that blasted Sanctuary several times a week.”
Conrad’s heart raced as panic set it. Couldn’t Ashbrook control his own daughter? And why haven’t I been able to convince her to marry me? Lucy is not that bright, after all. “Anna, that old… uh.” He coughed. “So, what do you suggest? I’m running out of patience to marry Lucy. If you don’t do something soon, I will expose your dealings with Proust to—”
“I suggest you get yourself to the Bird Sanctuary the very next time Lucy and Anna go. I’ve already told Lucy that she should be chaperoned by Anna or by the both of you.”
“That was smart thinking, Jeffrey. Brilliant, if I may say.”
Ashbrook raised an eyebrow. “Indeed.”
“I shall do as you say, as long as it gets me what I want. How will I know when they are to go?”
“I’ll have Alfred keep his ears open. When he hears they are going, he’ll let me know and you’ll receive another message. Although by the way they spoke, they’re anxious to return. I expect them to visit again tomorrow.”
Ashbrook lowered his gaze to papers spread across his desk. Conrad had been in the older man’s presence enough to know that their meeting had concluded.
Leaving the house, he reached in his pocket for his handkerchief. He wiped perspiration from his brow. How could this have happened? He’d not pushed Lucy overly much because he didn’t think there was another man who had an interest in her. Now, though… he’d need to increase the pressure. He would not let some other man steal what was rightfully his.
He would not!
~~~~
Lucy hurried through her toilette, anxious to get to the Sanctuary. Her only qualm was that she was keeping Mr. Barrow from his work. She’d hate it if he lost his position because of her. Something about him, though, kept drawing her back. As if a magnet’s force pulled her to him.
She’d only known him a few weeks, yet every time she saw him, every time she heard his deep voice, smooth as honey, or sat close enough so the heat from his body warmed her, she felt whole. But on the days she didn’t see him, those endless, gloomy stretches of time when they were apart, Lucy couldn’t eat, didn’t sleep, and roamed about the house as aimlessly as a leaf caught in a mild breeze.
A knock sounded. Her door opened. Anna stood in the open doorway, a huge grin spread across her face. “Prepared to depart?”
Well this is a new development. Normally, Lucy had to wait for Anna to get ready. She must be in a rush to see Mr. Warner. “Yes, let me put on my hat and we can go.”
Anna waved a hand in her direction. “You can put on your hat in the carriage, dear.” She tugged on Lucy’s arm.
“Anna! What’s gotten into you?”
Her maid stopped tugging and instead patted Lucy’s arm. “The same thing that’s gotten into you, I imagine.”
Heat spread from Lucy’s neck, up her cheeks, and even to her ears. “Well…”
“You seem fond of Mr. Barrow.”
Lucy nodded.
“But what of your father? What will he say?”
“That there would be no future with him because he is of a different class with little money.”
Anna tilted her head. “I’m going to guess that you think he’s worth fighting for.”
Lucy shrugged. What was there to say? Father would have an apoplexy when he found out.
“Am I wrong?”
“I do think so, even though it goes against everything I’ve been brought up to value. But, no, you’re not wrong.”
She chuckled. “Because I’m right. I’m always right.”
Laughing, the two descended the stairs, arm in arm. Someone darted around the corner. Was that Alfred? Why would he be skulking about? Usually he lingered in the hall, not caring who saw him. He never seemed to want to miss anything that happened in the household, and the hall was the most central area in which to hear or see what was going on.
Maybe he was spying on the kitchen staff again. The week before they’d served raspberry tarts instead of his favorite blueberry. It would be just like him to berate them for their choice of fruit, even though raspberry was much more plentiful and easier to obtain.
Carlton waited by the carriage. Lucy smiled. “To the Bird Sanctuary, please.”
“As you wish, miss. Shall I pull the carriage up to Baker Street, as before?”
“Yes. That would be lovely.”
The ride seemed to take a lifetime. Perspiration formed beneath Lucy’s gloves. Would Mr. Barrow have the opportunity to speak with her again? Would he even be there? And if he was, would he even wish to spend time with her?
Anna tittered into her glove, practically hopping up and down on the carriage seat. Lucy had never seen her maid like this. She acted so… young. Was she in love? Is that why her face glowed and her eyes twinkled?
If Lucy checked a looking glass, would she see the same? She couldn’t be in love. It was too soon. Wasn’t it? She’d only been in his company for a few weeks. She didn’t even know his Christian name. Still, the thought of not seeing him again, not speaking to him about the birds, not having him touch the small of her back with his hand filled her heart with gloom. And oh how she longed for a kiss. For his lips to touch hers, his arms to hold her tightly.
What if he did not share her esteem? Didn’t care for her or look forward to her visiting again? What then? That thought, that awful, negative thought, pierced through her mind again. It would never work anyway. Could never work. Because her father would have none of it. A heavy sigh escaped her lips. If she could have anything, anything in the world, it would be for her to be able to be with Mr. Barrow always. Nothing else mattered.
Just as the carriage rolled to a stop, Anna touched Lucy’s hand. “You look pale. Are you feeling unwell, dear?”
How could she say what was in her heart? Anna had never seemed happier. To dampen the other woman’s enthusiasm now would be unfair. Cruel. No. She must keep her heartache to herself.
“I’m fine, Anna. Ready to exit the carriage?”
The maid nodded.
As soon as they entered through the Sanctuary gate, they stopped. Anna peered about the grounds. Lucy did the same. Would the gentlemen be there? Please let it be so. Even though she knew deep down she could never have Mr. Barrow for more than a friend, she chose to shut that fact away. Bury it. At least for now. While she was in his presence, she’d indulge herself and enjoy their moments together.
Later, when it ended, and end it would, she’d reflect on her time at the Sanctuary. Their time spent together. Whether Lucy married someone else or remained a spinster, she’d have warm memories to treasure in her heart. If he would kiss her, just once, she could replay it in her dreams, pull it from her mind on the loneliest of times to comfort her.
“Oh, Lucy, there!” Anna grabbed her hand, pulling her nearly off her feet. “Come on, dear. Time’s a wasting.”
Laughing at the change in Anna, Lucy hurried to keep pace. She glanced up. And there, yes, there he was. Standing next to Mr. Warner at the same park bench where she’d heard the chiff-chaff’s call. Where Mr. Barrow had told her that it ate flies. And didn’t recognize its mate the second season.
And never committed polygamy.
Oh, my.
Heat rose, this time not just to her face. No, this time its direction went lower. Much lower. To her midsection and legs. What in heaven’s name was that? A totally new sensation, it was not altogether unpleasant. In fact, she’d—
“Hurry, Lucy!” Anna pulled hard.
Lucy took a deep breath. They walked at such a rapid pace, someone might think they were in
a race. Closer and closer. Nearly there. Mr. Barrow took a step toward them. Then another. Mr. Warner followed suit. Until the four stood face to face. Smiles all around.
As if pre-arranged — and truth be told perhaps it was — Mr. Warner took Anna’s arm and they headed off to the pond. Mr. Barrow tilted his head toward the bench. Their bench, or so she considered it now.
How was that possible? Their bench? A few weeks ago, she hadn’t even made his acquaintance. Was she mad? What had taken possession of her mind?
Whatever it was, she desired more. And more. And never wanted it to end. The whole situation between her and Mr. Barrow, and Anna and Mr. Warner seemed strange. Yet… right.
“Would you care to sit down, Miss Ashbrook?”
“Yes. Thank you.”
“I thought perhaps we might see a few different types of birds today.”
“Oh? That would be lovely.”
“Did you happen to bring your drawing materials with you?”
She patted her reticule. “I did indeed.”
“Wonderful. There is a nest of baby long-eared owls I think you might find interesting.”
Shading her face from the sun with her hand, she smiled. “Why do they have long ears?”
“‘The better to hear you with, my darling’.”
“You mean it was an owl in that children’s tale and not a wolf?”
“Perhaps it was an owl dressed as a wolf.”
“Who just happened to be dressed as a grandmother, I suppose.”
“One never knows.” He raised and lowered his eyebrows, darting his eyes left and right.
Laughing, Lucy covered her mouth with her hand. “I’m certain that’s not the real reason for the owls’ appearance.”
“Well, if you must spoil the fun. Actually, they have long ears because it makes them appear bigger to larger birds.”
“Now I can’t wait to view this wolf-grandmother-owl. Is it nearby?”
“Come with me and I’ll show you. It will be sleeping, so we must be very quiet.”
Taking her hand, he assisted her from the bench. Even through the glove, his touch warmed her skin, sending tingles from her fingers up her arms and into her neck. When she stood, he released her. Why couldn’t he have held onto her hand for a few moments? She craved any contact with him. Anything at all.