by Lori Wick
Weston said a quiet goodbye as he watched her hurry along the road. Everything within him rebelled at the idea that she would not accept his offer, but he felt helpless to act. He also knew that he was missing something.
He returned to the house, determined to question Pastor Hurst about what had just occurred, only to find the family waiting for him. And not just Pastor and his wife. Around them were four children, all very polite and kind as they were introduced, but clearly they were going to put a damper on Weston’s plans for table conversation.
Brown Manor
Weston walked through the front door of his own home a few hours after lunch. Everything was in its usual state of neatness, and on this day the cleanliness led his mind to Anne. He called her Miss Gardiner when he spoke to her or referred to her, but in his mind she was Anne. And why did she stay in his thoughts? Years before he knew of her existence, she lived as she did with no help or thought from him, but now that he knew of her, he couldn’t get her from his mind.
And still something was missing.
He’d had a great time around the Hursts’ dining table. The food and fellowship had been very fine, but never had he been alone with only the adults.
Weston shook his head to try to clear his thoughts. He decided that a ride was in order, and he called for his horse to be readied in 30 minutes time. Thinking he needed to get out and take in some air, he never realized that the man who could answer all his questions lived directly under his roof.
Tipton
“Your surprise plan worked,” Palmer said to his wife as he brought Anne to the bedroom on Monday morning and left the women to visit in privacy.
Anne went to hug her friend, who, still taking it very slowly with a week-old baby, was very glad to see her.
“Will you ever forgive me?”
“I don’t know,” Anne pretended to consider it as she took a seat next to Lydia’s bed, shaking her head slightly over her friend’s sneak attack.
The Palmer coach had suddenly arrived at Levens Crossing, the coachman bearing a note asking Anne to come. Anne was taken so unawares that she climbed into the carriage without hesitation. When she arrived at Tipton, it was to find everyone in delightful spirits; they had all been in on the plan and praying that she would come. Anne had taken time with all the children before Palmer had offered to take her to see Lydia.
“Where is your little Oliver?” Anne now asked, looking about for a basket or cradle.
“He’s with Fanny, our mother’s help, and should be back any moment,” Lydia answered.
Anne smiled at her friend.
“You look wonderful.”
“I feel very good. He was so long overdue that I had some moments of discouragement.”
“But he’s here now.”
“Yes, and I’m dying for you to see him. But before he comes, Anne, how are you?”
“I’m well, thank you. The basket of breads was lovely, Lydia. I can’t tell you how much I appreciated it.”
“It was our pleasure. You’ve been on my mind so much, and I can’t help but wonder if you have someone you’re going to for counsel. Have Judith and Pastor been available?”
“Yes. I do go to them, and they’ve been very helpful. Thank you for checking on me.”
“Well, now that we’ve broken the ice, you must keep coming to Tipton. Often.”
Anne’s look became decidedly strained at this idea. Lydia would have to have been blind to miss it.
“Anne,” Lydia said sincerely, reaching out to take her hand. “I care not what others say. I know you are a woman of honor and a friend. Please come as often as you can.”
Anne nodded, not able to ignore this plea. She was in the habit of putting others before herself and realized that Lydia was now trying to do that for her. Even with a certain measure of fear that her friends would suffer, she could not refuse such a gesture.
“Thank you, Lydia,” Anne said simply, gaining a warm smile from her friend.
And only just in time. Moments later there was a knock at the door before Fanny entered with the very new Oliver Palmer.
Thornton Hall
“What are you doing?” Jennings asked quietly from behind his expectant wife, startling a small squeak out of her as she turned from the bookshelf.
“You scared me!”
“You deserve to be more than scared. You were about to climb on that chair, weren’t you?”
Marianne Jennings worked at looking very innocent, but she’d been caught red-handed and there was no way out of it.
“What book did you want?” Jennings asked, working not to smile at the face he loved.
Marianne gave him the title and then watched as he plucked it from the shelf, his height making the chair of no use. Jennings handed the book to her but didn’t let go. Marianne’s eyes met his.
“You’re supposed to be resting.”
“I was going to sit and read the book,” she told him sweetly. “What could be more restful than that?”
“Before or after your middle put you off balance and you fell from the chair?”
Before Marianne could frame a reply, Thomas, the oldest of the Jennings children, appeared in the door. He stared at the adults and smiled.
“Do I miss my guess, or is Marianne in trouble?”
Both Jennings and Marianne laughed.
“I hate being so easily read,” Jennings commented, relinquishing his hold on the book and placing the chair she’d moved back into place.
“What did you do?” Thomas asked the woman who was married to his guardian, his tone light, his mouth ready to smile.
“I was going to climb up and get a book.”
All Thomas’ humor fled.
“You were going to stand on the chair?” the young man asked in disbelief.
Jennings laughed at his wife’s look of surprise before turning to Thomas.
“I’ve been called a hen for weeks now, Thomas. Thank you for seeing things my way.”
“You could have fallen,” Thomas told her in no uncertain terms.
“Who could have fallen?” James, now making his appearance, asked.
The situation was no more spelled out for him when Penny, the youngest of the children, entered the room. She listened quietly to the explanation of what had gone on before going to sit close to Marianne, her presence meant to commiserate.
“Well, at least one of you has compassion for me,” Marianne accused the males in the room, a smile lurking in her eyes.
“Is that why you sat by Marianne, Penny?” Jennings asked. “Do you feel sorry for her?”
Penny nodded very solemnly. “It’s hard to be short.”
No one in the room expected this, but it gained Penny a hug from Marianne and caused Jennings and the boys to laugh.
Just the year before, the children had been orphaned. Their closest relative was William Jennings, unmarried but still willing to take them in. The transition had not been without bumps, but in less than a year’s time, he had taken in his cousin’s three children and married Marianne Walker. Now Marianne was expecting their first baby. And since the school term had ended, she found she had four sets of eyes lingering on her on a regular basis.
“Are you feeling well, Marianne?” James asked when the room grew quiet, his little heart sweet and sensitive to Marianne’s plight.
“I am, yes. Thank you, James.”
“It takes a very long time, doesn’t it?” he commented.
“Some days longer than others,” Marianne told him with a smile.
“Days when I’m being hen-ish?” Jennings teased his wife.
“Yes,” she told him, a laugh escaping. “Especially on those days.”
The couple exchanged an amused glance, and seeing it, the children exchanged some looks of their own. There had been a plot on their part, many months past, to see these two married, but in the end Jennings and Marianne had needed no help. Theirs was a love match—there was no mistaking that.
“All right, childr
en,” Jennings said as he stood. “Let us head out for a walk through the park. That will give Marianne a chance to rest.”
The children went without argument, but not before watching Jennings head to Marianne’s seat. He bent low and kissed her gently on the mouth, whispering something softly to her before straightening.
Such displays did not embarrass them. For too many months their lives had been topsy-turvy and unsettling. Such sights only gave them peace of mind.
Chapter Seven
Collingbourne
On this trip into town Mansfield and Weston went together. Weston knew what he wanted for the large drawing room, his bedroom, and the small salon, but he had told Mansfield to handle things in the kitchen as he liked, as well as the rooms below stairs.
“I’m going to start in Vintcent’s office to make sure the workers are still coming on Monday. From there I’m headed to see that furniture maker—I can’t recall his name.”
“Pelham?” Mansfield supplied.
“Yes, that’s it. Then I’m to Benwick’s. If you don’t arrive at Benwick’s before I’m through, I’ll be at Gray’s having tea.”
“Very well, sir. I shall endeavor not to keep you waiting.”
“Don’t worry about it. We might as well make the best of this trip. Once the conservatory is underway, I may want to be home more.”
Putting their plan into effect, Weston proceeded to the architect’s and received good news from Vintcent. The workers would begin on Monday morning, Vintcent himself overseeing the process.
The furniture shop did not take long either. Weston liked blue, and Pelham had his fabrics sorted by color. In little time five sofas, seven chairs, and six side tables of various woods had been ordered. It would be some months before delivery, something that would have been faster in London, but he wanted to support the local trade, and shipping costs would have been high.
Weston was at Benwick’s 90 minutes later, hoping that man would have the lamps he had in mind. Benwick was busy when he walked into the store, so Weston contented himself with a slow browse through the aisles, something he found very enjoyable.
“I don’t believe we have met.”
Weston looked down to see that he was being addressed. A small, somewhat round woman with more airs than a duchess stood looking up at him.
“I believe you must be right,” Weston said graciously, although he was still deciding if he was comfortable with the lady.
“You may tell me who you are,” she now commanded.
Weston had all he could do not to laugh.
“My name is Mr Weston.”
“Then you must live at Brown Manor.”
“I do indeed.”
“Do you know Anne Gardiner?”
“I don’t believe I caught your name,” Weston replied, dodging the question, his voice cooling.
“I am Mrs Musgrove. I live at Dorfold Park. You’ve heard of it, I’m certain.”
“I have, yes. It’s a beautiful home.”
“Indeed, it is. Do you know Anne Gardiner?” she now persisted.
“I certainly do. She and I attend the same church.”
Mrs Musgrove’s stance became rigid.
“That is certainly proof that exposing someone to religion does not mean it will take.”
Weston’s eyes grew stone cold, but he said nothing. Mrs Musgrove began to speak again, but Weston cut her off with as much grace as he could muster.
“I believe Benwick is free now, and I must see him. Good day, Mrs Musgrove.”
That lady huffed a little when he bowed and moved on his way, but that didn’t stop her from noticing that he was a fine-looking man, fairly tall and dark. It was too bad her own Augusta was getting a bit long in the tooth, or she might think of introducing them.
“Lamps?” Benwick repeated. “Right this way, sir.”
From there, Weston’s shopping went downhill. He picked out five different lamps, but with almost no idea what he was getting. Never dreaming that Anne’s name would come up in such a way, he had been put completely out of step. Finishing up at Benwick’s, he asked that everything be delivered and crossed the street to the tearoom, hoping against reason that Mansfield was waiting for him.
His heart knew nothing but relief to find the coach coming up the street. The moment he climbed inside, Mansfield observed that something was amiss, but naturally he kept quiet. Weston kept quiet as well, but only until they’d cleared the streets of town.
“Is there talk in town concerning Miss Gardiner?” Weston asked directly.
“There is, sir,” Mansfield told him, his voice more neutral than his feelings.
“What is being said?”
“It would seem that after your wedding incident, her father traveled into town and announced that his daughter had been married. Your name was never mentioned, but when Anne arrived in town many days later with no husband, she was not welcomed.”
Weston’s gaze went to the window. Why had this not occurred to him before? Things began to flash in his mind like a slow-moving dream. He remembered the way Anne had not wanted to be seen on the side of the road during their picnic. And the last time he was in Benwick’s, there had been two women gossiping in the next aisle. He’d heard part of their conversation about a woman who was not telling where she’d been.
“She’s protecting me,” he said aloud, but to himself.
“I believe you must be right, sir.”
Weston looked over at his man. He’d almost forgotten he was there.
“I’ll need my horse as soon as we arrive.”
“Yes, sir.”
Mansfield didn’t ask a single question. He would be told when and if there was a need, but there was no doubt in his mind that this ride would not be for fresh air. Mr Weston would be looking for answers.
The Manse
“I’ve only just learned about Anne’s situation in town” were nearly the first words from Weston’s mouth.
Pastor Hurst, who had been home eating lunch, had seen Weston into the salon and twice asked him to sit down, but Weston didn’t seem to hear him.
“It seems that you and Mrs Hurst have contact with Anne. Has it been difficult for her?” Weston asked.
“Yes,” the pastor felt he had to admit.
Weston finally took a seat on the sofa, everything about him showing that this news was beyond painful to him.
“What can I do?”
“Nothing, Mr Weston. You had no choice in the matter, and neither did Anne.”
“But that doesn’t change the situation.”
“No, it doesn’t, but the people who know Anne—the people who count, I might add—know she is innocent. As for someone making it public that Anne was at Brown Manor or that you were the man the Colonel set upon that day, I can’t see where that would help Anne in the least. I’m not sure Anne would tell the details even if she felt it would help, but at any rate, I’ve advised her not to. For now we are praying that this will quiet down very soon. I don’t know if there is anything else we can do.”
“Did I spoil things for Anne?” Weston needed to know. “Was she engaged or promised?”
“No, she’s quite alone.”
The words—said with no hidden meaning—had a devastating effect on his heart. Weston rose to his feet and moved to the window. For several minutes he stood looking out. Pastor Hurst knew there were many things he could say, but he first wanted to glean a full picture of why this young man had come.
He also found it more than a little curious that Mr Weston, new to their midst, had referred to Anne by her first name during the entire conversation.
“I only wish there was something I could do.”
“Well,” Pastor Hurst said, a small twinkle in his eye, “you could marry her.”
Weston looked neither shocked or amused.
“I was joking, Mr Weston.”
“I assumed as much, but in truth I did think that Anne’s getting married would solve the problem. I don’t suppose there a
re many prospects.”
“I’m afraid not.”
Weston again felt a pang in his heart. It was unlike anything he’d ever experienced before, and he found it very odd.
“What advice would you give me?” Weston asked to take his mind from his emotions. “When I talked to Anne last Sunday, she was not happy to see me. She was gracious but also very embarrassed, and I don’t wish for that. If you think it best to avoid her, I’ll do that. Whatever will put her most at ease.”
Pastor Hurst thought for a moment. He had not expected to see Weston before Sunday and in truth had not given much thought about the incident from the previous week. He’d told his wife he was still working it out, but time had been taken with other matters.
“May I think on that and get back to you, Mr Weston?”
“Of course.” Weston stood. “I barged in here, and you’ve probably left your meal to listen to me rant. Thank you for your time.”
“Not at all. In fact, if you haven’t eaten, why not join me?”
“Are you certain?” Weston asked, his heart pleased because he genuinely liked the man.
“Come along,” Pastor Hurst said lightly, leading the way from the room.
Weston found himself included in the most natural way, enjoying it even more when Mrs Hurst joined them. Being thankful for the first time in this situation concerning Anne, he thought, If Anne has friends like these, she’s in very good hands.
“You look very far away.”
Judith Hurst jumped, a hand going to her heart before turning to her husband. It was later the same day. They were in the garden, and supper would be ready in less than an hour.
“Oh, Frederick, you startled me.”
“I’m sorry.”
He moved close to kiss her and then took the flower basket from her hand. Both her hands were free now to snip the blossoms and add them to the growing pile.
“What were you thinking about?”
“Mr Weston.”
“He’s certainly a surprise, isn’t he?”
“Yes. I can’t think why he hasn’t married.”
Pastor’s brows rose. His wife was not known for her matchmaking schemes. But she didn’t notice his response. Her head still bent, she methodically snipped the flowers one by one, adding them to the basket in her quiet way.