My Fair Guardian

by Suzanne G. Rogers

  She forced her attention back to her task, but it was impossible to concentrate with Will sitting across the desk from her. She had to satisfy herself with making a few notes on her manuscript, and changing the color of her hero’s eyes from green to amber.

  Will held up his work for Bethany’s scrutiny. “What do you think?”

  She peered at his efforts and gave him an encouraging nod. “Not bad.”

  “But not good.” He frowned at the looped letters. “Your handwriting is graceful, but mine looks like that of a child. The word ‘Winter’ is fine, but I’m having the most difficult time with ‘Willoughby.’ The letters g and h were invented by the devil to plague me.” He paused. “It isn’t called cursed handwriting for no reason.”

  “That’s cursive.”

  His eyes twinkled. “But it’s cursed to me.”

  “Cursive handwriting is difficult for everyone at first. Think of it like an artistic exercise and you might have better luck.”

  His expression brightened. “My signature as a work of art? I should have thought of that.”

  Will readied a fresh piece of paper and set to writing with renewed purpose. Moments later, a knock came at the door and the butler appeared.

  “Excuse me, Miss Christensen, but the tailor has arrived.”

  Will sighed. “Just when I was beginning to make progress.”

  “Richmond, ask the tailor to set up in Mr. Winter’s bedroom.” Bethany bit her lip. “Tell Mr. Pace his presence is required as well. He will need to supervise the tailor’s progress and prioritize the alterations. I would like everything completed in a fortnight, if possible.”

  The butler nodded. “Yes, Miss Christensen.” He left.

  Will gathered up his papers and waggled them. “I’ll take these to my room, for practice later.”

  Bethany gave him a smile. “Practice makes perfect.”

  Once Will left, the pleasant scent of his aftershave lingered in his absence. She forced her attention back to her manuscript and tackled the scene in which the hero and heroine begin to explore the smuggler’s tunnel under the house.

  Angela gulped as she followed Mr. Wylde down the narrow stairs, wishing the passageway below were not so dark, cold, and damp. Although he held the lantern high, blackness seemed to press back against the light.

  She shuddered. “It feels almost evil down here.”

  Mr. Wylde gave her a sharp glance. “There is no such thing as good and evil, Miss Ware. Only good men and bad.”

  “Which one are you?”

  His lips curved in a wicked smile. “That remains to be seen, doesn’t it?”

  “Don’t tease me, sir.”

  They’d not gone more than a few paces before the entrance behind them closed with a loud click. He checked the door, but it was unyielding.

  “It appears that our only way out is forward.”

  Her nerves already frayed, Angela grabbed onto the man’s arm, drawing comfort from his strong muscles.

  “I-I hope you don’t mind if I hold on to you, Mr. Wylde.”

  His smile broadened. “I’d be devastated if you didn’t.”

  A knock came at the door and Bethany put down her pen. “Yes?”

  Richmond appeared. “Mrs. Southerly has come to call.”

  She peered at him. “The vicar’s wife?”

  “And three friends. Are you at home?”

  “If I’m not at home for Mrs. Southerly and her friends, I’ll never hear the end of it.” She stood. “I’ll be with them in a moment.”

  Bethany hastened over to the small mirror mounted to the wall, checked to make sure her hair was tidy, and then smoothed her skirt. The last time Mr. Southerly had come to Lansings Lodge was to condole with her and Jane after Mr. Leopold passed away. Why had she come today, with a veritable female army in tow?

  As soon as Bethany entered the drawing room, however, she discovered the three ladies with Mrs. Southerly were comprised of the church’s Olive Branch Welcoming Committee. No doubt Mrs. Kellogg, Mrs. Ellison, and Mrs. Varney were going to ask her for a financial contribution.

  Bethany gave them a welcoming smile. “Good morning! How lovely to see you all.”

  There was a chorus of greetings before everyone settled into their respective seats. She tried to engage the women in conversation, but she couldn’t help but notice their attention kept drifting toward the double doors leading to the corridor.

  “Are you expecting another member of your group to arrive?” she asked.

  “No, but we understand you have a visitor staying with you at Lansings Lodge.” Mrs. Southerly smiled. “Liza happened to see him when she was here last.”

  “That’s true.” All four ladies leaned forward as she spoke. “Mr. Winter is Mr. Leopold’s cousin, from the north. He’ll be staying with Jane and I, in his capacity as our guardian.”

  Mrs. Kellogg beamed. “We had hoped to meet him today.”

  The ladies giggled.

  Bethany shook her head. “I’m afraid that’s impossible. Mr. Winter is quite occupied this morning.” Their faces fell. “We’ll be in church on Sunday, so I will introduce him to you after the service”

  Mrs. Ellison pouted. “We’d hoped to be the first people in the congregation to welcome Mr. Winter to the neighborhood. What can you tell us about him?”

  Mrs. Varney reached up to pat her coiffure, which was more elaborately styled than the widow usually wore. “We understand he’s quite young and handsome.”

  “Er…” Bethany hadn’t really thought yet how best to introduce Will, but she definitely did not wish to discuss his looks. “Um…Mr. Winter is a few years older than I am, I think. He’s an artist.”

  “Ooh.”

  They ladies sat back, exchanging excited glances with one another.

  “Where has he shown his work?” Mrs. Southerly had an expectant air.

  “Um…Mr. Winter hasn’t had a formal showing yet, but he would like to do so in the future.” Bethany could sense their disappointment and somehow felt compelled to defend Will. “He recently finished a sketch of Jane, if you would like to see it. We’re to have it framed.”

  Once she heard the excited titters that ensued, she moved over to the bell pull. When the butler appeared, she asked him to fetch the sketch from her study.

  Richmond bowed. “Right away, Miss Christensen.” He turned and disappeared down the corridor.

  Mrs. Ellison’s eyes gleamed. “What can you tell us about Mr. Winter’s education? Did he matriculate at a university?”

  Bethany’s chin lifted. “No. He’s had tutors.”

  “Oh.” Mrs. Southerly’s smile slipped. “Well…has he traveled extensively?”

  “I-I couldn’t really tell you, but I know he lived in London for several years, taking in a great many theatrical performances and cultural events.”

  The ladies perked up once more and began talking amongst themselves about any friends they had in London that might have met Mr. Winter or perhaps entertained him in their homes.

  Bethany gritted her teeth until Richmond arrived with the sketch. As he displayed it to the ladies, they were silent for several moments before erupting in excitement. Her fingers uncurled when she heard their effusive praise.

  “Why it’s an uncanny likeness if ever there was one! It’s almost as if Miss Jane is about to look up from her book.” Mrs. Southerly sighed. “Your new guardian is indeed very talented.”

  Mrs. Varney fluttered her lashes. “I would love for Mr. Winter to sketch me. Does he take commissions?”

  Bethany shook her head. “I really can’t say.”

  “No? Pity.”

  The ladies exchanged glances and then they stood.

  “We must be going, but we’ll count on that introduction this Sunday,” Mrs. Ellison said. “Don’t keep Mr. Winter to yourself!”

  “I wouldn’t dream of it.” Bethany glanced at the other three ladies. “Thank you for coming.”

  After the ladies filed out the front door, she col
lapsed on the sofa. “Take the sketch back to my study, Richmond.”

  “Very good, Miss Christensen.”

  After the butler disappeared with the sketch, Bethany took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. She hadn’t counted on so much intense interest from her neighbors, and had barely managed to get through a short visit. How would Will manage the inquisition that was certain to surround him after church?

  Jane traipsed in. “Before you scold me for skipping school, Mr. Pace cut my lessons short so he could help Mr. Winter with his clothes.”

  “Oh, yes, I know. The tailor is here to make alterations to Mr. Winter’s wardrobe.”

  Jane plopped down on the sofa next to her. “What did the town gossips want, exactly? I couldn’t hear everything.”

  “Were you eavesdropping from the hallway?”

  “Of course I was.” She shrugged. “How else am I supposed to hear things?”

  “Apparently, Liza has been singing Mr. Winter’s praises.”

  Jane scowled. “I knew she would! She went on and on about Mr. Winter’s looks, almost as if she’d never seen a handsome man before.”

  “He is rather dashing, to be honest, and a young, eligible bachelor is always of intense interest.”

  Jane wound a strand of hair around a finger. “Why did you show them my sketch? They’ll never leave Mr. Winter alone now.”

  “You are right.” Bethany sighed. “I suppose we will have to protect Mr. Winter from the gossips the best we can.”

  Her sister snorted. “I thought Mr. Winter is supposed to be our guardian, not the other way around.”

  “The irony does not escape me, I assure you.” Bethany frowned. “This won’t do at all. We shall have to leave for London far earlier than I’d planned.”

  Jane jumped to her feet. “We’re going to London?”

  “Indeed, we are.”

  As her sister erupted into peals of excitement, Bethany moved over to the pull cord to summon Richmond once more. If they were to depart in a week’s time, there wasn’t a moment to spare.

  Since it was such a fine day, Bethany requested lunch to be served on the patio. As she and Jane sat down to a light meal of salads and cold ham, Richmond appeared.

  “Mr. Winter wishes to say he will be late and begs you not to delay on his account.”

  The butler tweaked the floral arrangement in the center of the table before he returned to his duties.

  Bethany gave her sister a pained glance. “I didn’t realize Mr. Pace was such a hard taskmaster.”

  “Now you know what he’s really like.” Jane made a doe-eyed, sad face. “Don’t you feel sorry for me?”

  “Not a bit. A little diligence never hurt anyone.”

  “Humph!” Jane reached for the mustard. “How is Wylde Eyes coming along?”

  “I think it’s rather exciting, actually.” Bethany helped herself to a piece of freshly baked sourdough bread and pushed the basket toward her sister. “There’s a bit more tension and danger in it than I had originally anticipated.”

  “Really?” Jane’s expression brightened. “When will I be allowed to read it?”

  “Oh, not until I’m quite a bit more further along. I’m honestly not yet certain how I’m going to resolve the conflict between the hero and the heroine. There’s such a vast gulf between them.”

  Jane wrinkled her nose. “I hope it’s not like Wuthering Heights. I never cared for the character of Heathcliff and the story ended badly.”

  “I wouldn’t worry overmuch about any similarity. Wylde Eyes wouldn’t be much of a romance if it doesn’t end well.”

  “I suppose not.”

  Over lunch, Bethany and Jane discussed whether or not Jane should add piano, flute, or violin lessons to her schedule this fall. Just as Jane suggested she might learn to play the harp instead, Will strode into the room, a strained expression on his face.

  “I’m sorry for being late. Mr. Pace is nothing but thorough.” He was seated. “When all is said and done, Frederick’s entire wardrobe will have been altered in some way, even the handkerchiefs. Mr. Pace insists on picking out Frederick’s initials himself with a needle.”

  “We are glad you managed to escape.” Bethany rang for a servant.

  He made a sound of exasperation. “I’ll never understand why a quarter of an inch here and there makes a difference to you people. Furthermore, I’m told that the lapels of several jackets must be restyled according to current fashion.”

  “That quarter of an inch and fashionable lapels matters to people who are in a position to know better,” Bethany replied. “If you don’t pay attention to your wardrobe, those people will dismiss you accordingly.” A servant appeared. “You may bring Mr. Winter’s lunch now.”

  The servant bowed and hastened off.

  “I’m going to need a great deal of time to master all this.” Will frowned as he reached for the breadbasket.

  “You are out of time, unfortunately.” Jane gave Will a mischievous glance. “The gossips are after you.”

  He frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “Everyone in the neighborhood knows you’re here now and they won’t stop until they have you sorted out.” Jane giggled. “And Bethany made it worse by showing the gossips my sketch.”

  Will turned his bewildered gaze on Bethany. “I must have missed something this morning. Was Lansings Lodge besieged by nosy visitors?”

  “In a manner of speaking, yes.” She rolled her eyes. “It was the church’s welcoming committee. Their curiosity about you has been piqued and now we must present a united front.”

  To that end, Bethany related the conversation she had had with the four ladies.

  He stared at her. “You’ve made me sound far more worldly than I am.”

  Bethany shrugged. “I glossed over certain awkward things and emphasized your strengths. It’s no different than a woman choosing a gown to flatter her figure or wearing ribbons to match her eyes.”

  “Or a gentleman sporting fashionable lapels,” Jane added.

  “I suppose you are right.” Will frowned. “And so I’m to be thrown to the wolves after church on Sunday?”

  “Yes, but lamentation and gnashing of teeth will soon ensue.” Bethany exchanged a glance with her sister. “We are leaving for London within the week.”

  He peered at her. “I thought the tailor required at least a fortnight!”

  “Mr. Pace can prepare enough clothes in a few days to last you a week or so. Thereafter, the tailor can send the rest along.”

  “I’m too excited to eat!” Jane jumped to her feet and tossed her napkin onto the table. “I’m going to look at my wardrobe to see what’s suitable for London.” The youngster dashed off.

  Bethany sighed. “My sister sets a bad example as far as manners goes. You will be expected to do better.”

  As Will ate, she detailed the finer points of social etiquette and polite conversation.

  He sat back in his chair finally, and shook his head. “I get the impression you society lot talk endlessly about nothing at all.”

  She beamed. “That’s it exactly, Mr. Winter! You’re catching on beautifully.”

  Chapter Seven

  Daubs & Bristles

  As Will navigated the gig down the drive, he glanced at the lady by his side. “You really need not have troubled yourself, Miss Christensen. I could have asked for directions to the shop from Mr. Troy or one of the stable hands.”

  “It’s no trouble to show you the way, Mr. Winter.” She patted the long leather map tube lying across her lap. “Jane dearly wants to have her sketch framed and I also have some business in the village.”

  He gestured toward the decorative wall adjacent to the roadway, where workmen were still laying bricks. “In another few days, this wall will be completed. The only thing remaining, Mr. Troy informs me, is the installation of wrought-iron gates.” He turned the gig onto the road. “The gates should arrive in a few weeks, but the hedge I planted will take a year or longer to be of much u
se to the security of Lansings Lodge.”

  The brim of her hat tipped upward as she glanced at him. “Have you anything to suggest?”

  “I think we should acquire dogs. Perhaps a pet for the house and one or two large guard dogs for the groundskeeper to manage.”

  She sat up straight. “What a wonderful idea! Mr. Leopold couldn’t abide dogs, but there’s no reason we couldn’t have one now. Jane would absolutely adore a puppy.”

  “Surely there must be several puppies available for purchase from a local farmer?”

  “When we’re in the village, I’ll make a few inquiries.”

  Will took a moment to admire the pretty cherry ornaments on Bethany’s hat. She gasped and grabbed his arm. “Mind the squirrel!”

  “Whoa.” He reined in the horse long enough to allow the squirrel to dart across the road safely. “That was close.”

  She released him. “Thank you for not hitting the creature.”

  “I shouldn’t have taken my eyes off the road.” He took a deep breath to calm his racing pulse and tried to think of something soothing. “What was the name of the piano music you played the other day?” He urged the horse forward with a gentle shake on the reins.

  Her hat tipped up once more. “I don’t remember when I played the piano last.”

  “It was my first afternoon working with Mr. Pace. I heard the faint sound of music through the open doorway.”

  “I’d forgotten about that. It was the first movement of Beethoven’s “Sonate au Clair de Lune.” Some people refer to it as “Moonlight Sonata.””

  “Beethoven? The name doesn’t sound English.”

  “No, Ludwig van Beethoven was a very famous German composer who died in 1827.”

  Will grimaced. “Ah. I suppose I should have known of him.”