Mrs. Faber’s vocal performance was pleasant, but Hope wanted nothing more than to escape. A short time later, Addie gave her the perfect excuse, touching her elbow and leaning in to whisper.
“Hope, may I please be excused? I’m very tired.”
“Of course.” Hope rose and took Addie’s hand. “Please pardon us,” she said to the room at large. “Addie’s quite worn out. I’ll take her upstairs.”
“You will come back, I trust,” Mrs. Faber said, her tone all sweetness.
“Perhaps.” Hope smiled, then turned and guided Addie out into the hall.
Once there, she exhaled, feeling the weight of a thousand anvils lift off her chest. “I’ll ask Mrs. Green to give you an extra dessert at our next meal,” she told Addie as they climbed the stairs.
“Why?” the child asked.
“Let’s just say that I’m very grateful to have left that room.”
“But I thought grownups liked parties,” Addie said, looking confused.
Hope thought about that for a moment. “Perhaps I’m not quite as grown-up as I thought I was.”
Addie giggled. “Everyone down there was rather stiff and proper. Maybe being grown up isn’t very much fun.”
“Sometimes it’s very nice, but at other times, it’s nothing but a bore.”
They reached the schoolroom, and Addie walked over to the window. “It’s a nice day out,” she said wistfully.
Hope looked out as well and noticed the sunshine filtering through the leaves. “It is. What a shame that we’re in here while the sun is shining.”
“Maybe we could go outside,” Addie said. “No one would have to know. It could be our little secret.”
Hope smiled. “Get changed and put on your play shoes.”
Fifteen minutes later, changed out of their party dresses and into everyday clothes, Hope and Addie came back down the staircase and tiptoed through the kitchen. The backdoor opened silently and then they were outside, ready to enjoy the autumn afternoon.
“Don’t go past the parlor windows,” Hope warned. “Someone inside will see us and know you’re not resting.”
“But I am resting,” Addie said. “I’m resting from being at the party.”
Hope laughed. “And so you are. Let’s go this way and visit the horses.”
They headed toward the back of the house and spent an hour enjoying the warmth of the horses’ breath and the hay in the chilly autumn afternoon. Addie dug some apples out of a barrel in the corner and fed them to the animals, stating that they deserved a Thanksgiving treat too.
“Well, we’d best go back in. It’s starting to get dark,” Hope said, noting the sky.
“Do we have to? All those people in the house make it so stuffy,” Addie said, turning her lips into a pout.
Hope ignored the pout. She’d never been swayed by melodramatics. “It is awkward, having a house full of strangers, but they’re leaving tomorrow.”
“Oh, good.” Addie’s eyes lit up, but just as quickly, her head drooped. Hope was quite impressed by how many emotions one girl could display in such a short amount of time. “But that means Uncle Edwards will probably leave too.”
Hope’s heart gave an extra beat. “What do you mean?” she asked, keeping her tone level.
“He does this all the time. He’ll bring home a group of friends, and then leave again when they do. He says it’s good for business—that he has to be friends with everybody. He’s gone a lot.”
“That’s what Mrs. Green was telling me,” Hope said. “Perhaps this time will be different.”
“Yes! Maybe now that he’s going to have a new wife, he’ll stay home more.” Addie tucked her hand into Hope’s. “I’m ready to go in now. I’m getting cold.”
“So am I. Hot baths for both of us, I think.”
Hope thought about what Addie had said as they went into the house by the back door. She prayed Mr. Edwards would stay home, but at this point, she had no claim on him, and he could do as he wished.
Chapter Nine
Hope had just tucked Addie into bed after “just one more bedtime story,” and she was pulling the girl’s bedroom door closed behind her when she bumped into someone in the hall. She bit back a startled cry and turned to see Mr. Edwards standing behind her.
“I’m so sorry,” he said with a slight bow. “I didn’t mean to get in your way.”
“No, it’s quite all right,” she replied. “I should have looked where I was going.”
“Well, regardless of whose fault it is, it seems that fate has brought us together, and I believe we should take advantage of it. Shall we?” He held out his arm.
Not knowing what he was talking about, Hope took his arm, and he led her downstairs to the kitchen—perhaps the last place she’d anticipated.
“When the weather turns chilly like this, I like a hot cup of chamomile tea with honey before bed. Will you join me?”
“Of course.” Hope took a seat at the kitchen table, smiling to herself as she watched Mr. Edwards place a tea kettle on the stove. She’d never seen a man make tea before—it was a nice change.
“How were the horses faring this afternoon?” he asked, taking a seat across from her.
“I beg your pardon?”
“The horses. I happened to glance out the window as I walked through the house.”
Hope’s cheeks flamed. “They seemed well, sir. I gave them your regards.”
He threw back his head and laughed. “I certainly hope you did. I don’t chat with them as often as I should—I’m sure they feel neglected.” He rose and busied himself at the stove, adding this and that and the other thing. Hope couldn’t see what he was doing from where she sat, as his back was mostly to her, but he seemed to know his way around. A short time later, he carried the tea kettle and two mugs over to the table.
Hope took a sip. “This is good,” she said. “Just the right balance of chamomile and honey.”
“You needn’t sound so surprised,” Mr. Edwards said with a chuckle. “I’m not completely useless in the kitchen.”
“I didn’t suppose that you were,” Hope replied. “Actually, I hadn’t thought much about it at all. I know nothing about you whatsoever—I’m bound to be surprised by everything.”
“Right you are. And we must fix that immediately. Tell me, Miss Middleton, what you think of my guests.”
Hope blinked. He certainly hadn’t started out with an easy question. “I find them very different from myself, but I’m sure that was quite obvious during our meal today. I apologize if I embarrassed you.”
“Embarrassed me? Gracious, no. I was quite entertained, actually. I’ve never seen Old Faber so unsettled. I don’t think he’s ever met a progressive female before.”
Hope considered him over the rim of her mug. “And you, sir? What’s your opinion of progressive females?”
“My opinion is that I’d better stay out of their way if I don’t want to be entirely trampled over.” He smiled. “I support them wholeheartedly, and I hope Addie grows up to be as well-rounded as you are.” He gave her a slight bow.
“Thank you. I’m gratified to hear that.”
“What if I’d said differently? What if I felt like my friend, Mr. Faber? Could you have stood being married to me then?” He raised an eyebrow.
“I suppose I’d find a way to manage. I’m used to living in households where my thoughts aren’t considered valuable.”
Mr. Edwards took a sip from his mug, then set it on the table. “You’re speaking of your aunt’s home where you were raised,” he stated.
“That’s right. My uncle was kind to me, but he died when I was very small, and I scarcely remember him. I believe his death brought out the worst in my aunt—she couldn’t bear the loneliness or the grief.”
“Some can’t. We all have different ways of handling the trials life brings our way. It says much about our character. And sometimes, life brings us things that seem far too great to be borne, regardless of our supposed strengths.”
Hope didn’t know if he was referring to her aunt or to something else. “I believe our strength comes from our efforts, sir. As long as we are striving, we are doing what we should.”
“Success is not an issue?”
“Success is nice, when we can achieve it, but sometimes, fate doesn’t allow for it. Then we must accept it and push on.”
Mr. Edwards shook his head. “I fear, Miss Middleton, that I’ve never been good at accepting defeat. I resent it, and seek my revenge.”
“Revenge? That seems a bit melodramatic, if you will pardon me for saying it.”
He chuckled. “I suppose it is. Perhaps I should say that if I don’t get what I want the first time, I’ll try again until it’s mine.”
“That’s much healthier than getting revenge, isn’t it?”
He studied his mug. “Healthier? I’m not certain. At times, I’m a bit more ruthless than I should be, especially when it comes to my business pursuits. I think about my living and that of my employees, and I sometimes forget that others must meet their obligations too. I’m trying to overcome that fault, however. I assure you.”
“It’s natural to be concerned about your own wellbeing. But yes, I agree—we can’t put our needs above everyone else’s when it means that other people are being hurt in some way.”
Mr. Edwards poured them each a little more tea from the kettle. “My father was a very ruthless businessman. He made deals that were solely in his best interest, and at times, he seemed not to care who he hurt along the way, including his family.”
Hope’s heart went out to him when she saw the look in his eyes. Here sat a man who had obviously been hurt in some of those dealings. “You have a chance to change that legacy, Mr. Edwards. As you watch for those tendencies in yourself, you can choose differently, and no one will blame you for the mistakes of your father.”
He nodded. “You’re right, Miss Middleton. My choices are mine alone to make, for good or for ill. I wish there was a way to correct the mistakes of years past, but many of them are too far gone by now. Thank goodness that we get more chances.” Mr. Edwards drained his mug, then stood. “I have a long day tomorrow. May I escort you back upstairs?”
“You may.” Hope set her mug next to the washbasin and climbed the stairs, this enigmatic man who had asked her to come to New Jersey at her side. He said goodnight at her door and then walked to the other end of the hallway, disappearing into the darkness of the unlit portion of the house. That seemed rather symbolic of their relationship so far—she still knew so little about him.
And as she drifted off to sleep that night, she heard Ann’s laughter yet again. It was almost as if it wove itself into her dreams. Could no one withhold the whiskey from that woman?
***
Mr. Edwards’ business associates left the following afternoon, and the house seemed so quiet without them. Hope much preferred the stillness to the raucous laughter of the ladies and the brandy drinking of the gentlemen. She supposed that if this was part of Mr. Edwards’ lifestyle, she’d have to get used to it, but she didn’t like that idea overly much.
She was, however, grateful to see that Mr. Edwards hadn’t left with his guests. She didn’t know if he planned to stay home for a while, or if he would be leaving soon, but the fact that he had broken from his usual pattern was a good sign. Perhaps he’d begin to understand what it meant to have family responsibilities at home.
She was just getting ready to go outside for one of her afternoon walks when Mr. Edwards approached her, a smile on his face. “I understand that you have been learning how to play battledore and shuttlecock, Miss Middleton.”
“Oh, no,” she protested. “I’m no good at it whatsoever. Addie will tell you.”
“She has told me. In fact, she’s enlisted my help. She says she’s done everything she can with you and now it’s time for a grown-up to take over. What do you say, Miss Middleton? May I give your education a try?”
Hope’s cheeks warmed. “I . . . I suppose so, sir.”
“Wonderful. Addie is waiting for us on the lawn so she can point out all your faults to me.”
“You won’t have any trouble seeing them for yourself, sir.”
He laughed as he opened the door for her and followed her outside.
Addie bounced up and down when she saw them coming. “Oh, good! Now we can both teach you, Hope.”
“You mean, now you can both laugh at me.”
Mr. Edwards frowned. “Oh, we would never laugh at you. Would we, Addie?”
The girl shook her head seriously. “We’re here to help you. Laughing at you isn’t helping you.”
Hope shook her head, amused. “I see you two have concocted a whole plan to rehabilitate me.”
“Re . . . habilitate you? Does that mean you need more education?” Addie asked.
Hope laughed. “Yes. I need more education in how to play this game. Let’s get on with it, then. If I’m to be tortured, I’d just as soon get it over with.”
Addie brought three battledores from behind her back. “All right. Let’s play!”
Mr. Edwards watched for a few minutes as Hope and Addie hit the shuttlecock back and forth. The look on his face grew more severe the longer they played. Finally, Hope lowered her battledore and looked at him. “What, sir, is troubling you so much?”
He crossed his arms and studied her. “You don’t play many outside games, do you, Miss Middleton?”
“No, sir. Hardly any.”
“I’m afraid that’s obvious. Your coordination is sadly lacking, and you seem to be entirely unaware of what your arms and legs are doing. You do know you have arms and legs, don’t you, Miss Middleton?”
Addie giggled.
“Of course I know it, sir,” Hope said indignantly. “They just don’t always tell me what they plan to do.”
“Then you must start communicating with them.” Mr. Edwards came to her side and lifted his own battledore. “You must think of this as being an extension of your own arm. As you bring your arm up, pretend as though it has grown several inches.”
“You said yourself that I have no idea what my arms are doing,” Hope pointed out. “What difference does it make how long my arms are if they’re acting of their own accord?”
He lowered his arm and faced her. “Right you are. Come here, Miss Middleton, and let’s see if I can’t show you another way.”
She stepped closer, and he wrapped his arm around her shoulders, guiding her arm with his hand. His sudden closeness caught her off guard. He smelled of soap and cinnamon, a nice combination, and she wanted to close her eyes and breathe it in. She couldn’t, though, not with Addie standing right there, watching them with those curious eyes.
“As the shuttlecock comes toward you, bring your arm up, like so,” he said in her ear. His other hand rested on her waist. She ought to be offended, but she found that she quite liked it there. “Now you must determine where the shuttlecock is. Should you swing to the left or right, do you need to take a step—that sort of thing. If the sun is in your eyes or if you’re squinting for any other reason, it can be hard to tell just where to swing. Your eyes can play tricks on you.”
His breath was tickling her ear. That, and his heady scent, made her knees a little weak. “Perhaps you’d better show me,” she said, her voice caught in her throat.
“With pleasure. Addie, hit the shuttlecock this way, please.”
As it came flying toward them, Mr. Edwards brought Hope’s arm up, still clutching the battledore, and together, they connected and sent it sailing into the rosebushes.
“Hooray!” Addie cheered, running off to fetch it.
Mr. Edwards didn’t let Hope go, even though their task was complete, and she didn’t move away. “What do you think, Miss Middleton? Do you suppose you can remember all that?”
“I don’t know. I might need more lessons.”
He edged just a bit nearer. “Was this one helpful, then?” he all but whispered.
“I believe it was, b
ut as you said, I’ve never really done this before, so I’m liable to forget.”
He chuckled, the sound making a shiver run up her spine. He had to know the effect he was having on her—how could he not? “Then I promise another lesson, and soon.”
She turned and looked into his eyes, smoldering black and twinkling into hers.
Addie came running up just then, carrying the shuttlecock. “I found it!” she said. “Shall we go again?”
Hope was finding it hard to breathe. She took a step back and focused on her student. “You have scratches on your arm, Addie. We should go get them washed up.”
The girl looked down at herself. “Oh, I had to reach into a rosebush to get the shuttlecock. They don’t hurt much. Let’s play some more.”
“Go get washed up, and we’ll play again tomorrow,” Mr. Edwards said. “Scoot into the house with you.”
“All right.” Addie looked disappointed, but she did as she was told.
Once they were alone, Mr. Edwards reached up and caught a stray lock of hair that had come loose from Hope’s bun, then tucked it back where it belonged. She turned her head slightly so his hand brushed against her cheek as he pulled away, and he smiled. Even though the moment was broken when Addie came charging back to ask what was taking them so long, it was a moment Hope knew she’d remember forever.
Chapter Ten
When the mail delivery came the next day, Hope was surprised to see a letter addressed to her. It wasn’t from any of her friends from the textile mill, and they were the only ones she’d given her address to. When she read the letter, she was stunned. Her aunt was ill and had sent for her.
Hope sank down on the bench in the entryway, staring at the letter in her hand. Why did her aunt want her now, after all this time? She hadn’t even seen the woman for nine years. Hope hardly imagined that her aunt had realized how horrible she’d been and was trying to apologize—some things were too great to wish for. So what was it? What could she possibly want?
It would be easy enough for Hope to throw the letter away and pretend she’d never received it. But there was that tug she felt in her heart, that sense of loyalty and duty, plus that desire to feel as though she belonged to a family—a real family—that wouldn’t ease up. She had to go. She knew it.
Hope: Bride of New Jersey (American Mail-Order Brides 3) Page 7