by Delia Parr
This time Irene did not offer a word in protest, but instead handed Annabelle a clean apron she retrieved from a corner cupboard. She gathered up the requested ingredients, which included some dried plums, and once she had set them onto the table, she cocked a brow. “If I can really make all this into something that tastes as good as you say it is, I have a mind to make another one for Christmas dinner. I’ve only got three weeks to practice, though.”
Annabelle eased her hold on the apron strings she was tying into place. “Christmas. I can’t believe I’ve forgotten all about it.”
Irene smiled. “It will be a blessed Christmas indeed to have you and Harrison here this year. Now show me what to do.”
They spent the next few hours laughing and chatting together, and before long, the kitchen was filled with the aroma of the strudel baking in the oven. Peggy returned to the kitchen, but Annabelle held a finger to her lips to encourage Irene to keep the new dessert a secret.
Peggy, however, had news of her own. “I came to tell you that Mr. Philip has come to call. He’s waiting for you in the parlor, Miss Annabelle.”
Chapter Twelve
Harrison knew there could be any number of surprises waiting for him when he returned home to Graymoor Gardens late Sunday afternoon. But he was bringing back news of his own that may not exactly please Annabelle or Irene.
Surprised to see much deeper snow here in the countryside, he instructed Graham to bypass the approach to the main house altogether. He dismissed him when they reached the shortcut to the cottage he had used many, many times as a youth to return from one escapade or another. He entered the kitchen, hoping to speak to Irene before he saw Annabelle, and frowned. Irene was nowhere in sight, and the only evidence that supper was going to be served tonight was a rather tempting-looking strudel left to cool on the table.
Well aware of Irene’s limitations when it came to desserts other than apple pie, he dismissed any thought of slicing off a piece of the strudel. “Appearances can be rather misleading,” he murmured.
Anxious to find his housekeeper, he went straight to the basement tunnel and met her when he was halfway to the main house. “I’m rather hungry. Are you serving anything for supper tonight other than strudel?” he teased after planting a kiss on her forehead.
Clearly flustered, she swatted at his arm. “You should save your kisses for your wife, although I’ve a mind to give you a bit of advice on how to help that young woman adjust to married life. You should try spending the night here at home instead of going back to the city, too.”
Harrison ignored her reprimand, but cringed at the thought that his wife had spent the past day or so sulking.
“And don’t tell me how to run my kitchen,” she added. “I’ve got a very hearty supper planned, although I’m serving it a bit later than usual, since we have a guest.”
“What guest?” he asked, surprised that any of the city’s matrons would have broken with custom and decided to call on the new Mrs. Graymoor without being invited.
“Mr. Philip arrived several hours ago.”
His hands clenched into fists. He had not seen Philip at all back at the mansion yesterday afternoon. Last night he had spent the entire evening getting reacquainted with a few old friends who were equally inclined to enjoy some of the more pleasurable pursuits the area had to offer. He met them on Petty’s Island, a small bit of land located close to the New Jersey coastline that was also well beyond the scrutiny of the prim and proper city elites.
Today he had slept until midmorning and left to complete a few necessary errands in the afternoon, assuming that his cousin must have already left for Boston, as planned.
More anxious than ever to reach Annabelle now that he knew Philip had not left the area at all, he quickly told Irene about the surprise he had for her. “I’ve hired a replacement for Jane,” he informed her. Before her frown ended with a reminder that he should have consulted her first, he held up his hand. “She’s already been told that you have the right to decide whether or not she’s the right person to add to the staff. She’s been promised a week to prove herself. Nothing more.”
Irene sighed. “When is this woman supposed to arrive?”
“In a few days.”
“One week, you said?”
When he nodded, she merely shrugged. “I’ll have Peggy get Jane’s room tidied up first thing tomorrow.”
He kissed her forehead again and grinned. “Good. Now if you’ll excuse me, I should get to the house to see Annabelle and Philip.”
“Take your time. They’re not back yet.”
He clenched his jaw. “Back from where?” he asked, holding a tight rein on his temper.
“If you must know, Mr. Philip took her for a sleigh ride, but don’t blame him. I suggested it. And before anyone else tells you, I didn’t make the strudel you mentioned by myself. Annabelle helped me, so you might want to try a slice, although I did add a few plums you seem to detest so much,” she quipped and walked past him to get back to the cottage.
After pacing back and forth in the parlor for a very long hour while his imagination flashed all sorts of troubling images of Philip and Annabelle in his mind’s eye, Harrison finally heard the muted sound of horses’ hooves drawing the sleigh up the circular drive.
He parted the delicate curtain that had replaced the heavy woolen drapes on the windows and doors, including the ones that led out to the portico overlooking the river, but he was careful to only pull back enough of the fabric to get a clear view of the outside without being noticed. He took one glance at the couple seated next to each other with a thick blanket lying across their laps to keep them warm and instantly dropped the curtain back into place. But the image had already been indelibly etched in his mind.
With her cheeks flushed pink and her lips forming a smile, Annabelle’s features had been lit with total joy. He had never seen her look this happy or this . . . “Radiant,” he whispered and clenched his fist. He fought against a surge of jealousy that was almost as instinctive as it was annoying, especially when he considered Philip was the one who was responsible for her transformation. He also found it odd to be jealous when his relationship to Annabelle was based on sheer circumstance, rather than anything as dangerous as affection.
Fortunately, Philip was scheduled to leave any day now to return to Boston. As for his own feelings where Annabelle was concerned . . . he knew it was too great a risk to have any feelings for her at all if he wanted to avoid the inevitable heartache she represented as his wife.
He turned and set a chair before the fire so he could warm himself and still see both of them the moment they entered the room. When he noted the knitting bag sitting on the seat, he paused to look inside, and smiled. She had not started to knit anything yet, but she had stored her knitting stick and needles in the bag—which meant he was relatively safe as long as he kept that bag out of her reach.
After placing it out of sight in the far corner, he sat down and waited. He tensed when he heard the front door open, but quickly relaxed when he heard Philip drive away with the sleigh. Relieved that he would have a few moments alone with Annabelle while Philip took the sleigh back to the cottage and turned it over to Alan, he was also determined to surprise Annabelle by being more understanding of the difficult position she was in.
He listened to her footsteps as she walked down the long, narrow foyer, stopping only long enough to store away her winter outerwear.
She was smiling and humming softly when she lifted the baize cloth covering the doorway and entered the dining area. She lost her smile, as well as her voice, when she spied him, just as he was getting to his feet. “I knew you were planning to return this afternoon, but I . . . I didn’t expect you’d arrive this early.” She tilted up her chin just a tad and joined him in the parlor. After taking a seat on the winged sitting bench across from him, she folded her hands demurely on her lap.
Surprised by her graceful movements, he had trouble gathering his own wits. Unlike her baggy, poor
ly fitting travel gown, the lavender day gown she was wearing fit her to perfection and hinted at her tempting womanly curves. Instead of the long braid or tight bun, her blond hair was gathered up into a shimmering net held in place at the crown of her head. Indeed, her grace and beauty rivaled that of the city’s most beautiful women, a most unexpected turn of events, considering she was born and bred in the rural part of the state.
Pleased to see she was wearing her wedding ring, he smiled. “I didn’t expect to find you gone or my cousin here visiting. I’m glad you’re back,” he said, keeping all hint of displeasure out of his voice. “You appear to have survived the snowstorm rather well.”
She blushed, adding even more color to her cheeks. “I’ve found ways to keep busy,” she replied and glanced around the room.
“Your knitting bag is over there,” he said, pointing to the far corner of the room. “Other than reading, if you went back to the library to get that book you left behind, or getting your knitting bag in order or teaching Irene how to bake something other than apple pie . . . what else have you done to keep yourself occupied?”
She raised one brow. “You don’t mind that I’ve been teaching Irene how to bake—”
“Anything you can teach her in that regard is more than fine with me, although I’d rather not have anything with plums in it.”
“Then that would include teaching her how to read so she can use the recipes I’ve written out for her or any others she might find, too, wouldn’t it?” she asked, her lips once again shaping a smile.
He swallowed hard, unable to fathom an argument that might undermine her logic. He also found himself unwilling to take away even this limited opportunity for her to resume her role as a teacher—a role she would lose forever once her name was tainted by their eventual divorce. “No objection at all. In fact, I can see some real advantage, since she’ll be better able to verify that the charges for supplies I’ve ordered are valid instead of relying on the deliveryman’s word,” he admitted. Harrison rose to place a small box on her lap before he retook his seat. “I had the opal ring resized, and I’d like you to wear it Thursday night.”
Growing pale, she did not make any effort to open the box. “This Thursday? That’s only four days from now. Isn’t that a bit soon for us to be going—”
“There’s an annual ball this Thursday that’s too important for us not to attend. I was hoping we could spend some time together talking about what you might expect from a social event that is probably much more formal than what you’re accustomed to.” He offered her a reassuring smile, although in truth, he would feel much more comfortable about attending himself if he knew Vienna Biddle was not going to be there.
“I appreciate your concern, but there’s no need.” She dropped her gaze for a moment before looking back at him again. “While I was raised in a very small town, which you already know, I was fortunate to be able to attend Hamilton Female Academy, which prepared me for much more than the teaching position I obtained with Mrs. Peale.”
“Go on,” he prompted when she seemed reluctant to continue.
She drew in a long breath, but her gaze was steady when she met his own. “At Hamilton, I learned when to talk and when to hold silent when attending formal or informal events. I know what topics to choose for polite conversation and which to avoid and . . . and I even learned how to dance, although I’m not very good at it. I haven’t had the opportunity to practice much of what I learned, but I’ll do my best not to embarrass you.”
Held captive by her pale green eyes, which glistened with hope and earnestness, he dropped his guard. In the space of a single breath, she nearly slipped past all the defenses he had built up to protect his heart, something other women with far more experience had never been able to do. But he raised his guard just in time to avoid sure disaster and drew another very long, very deep breath. “Perhaps I could simply tell you about some of the people you’re likely to meet at the ball,” he suggested.
“Cousin! Welcome back. Did I hear you say something about the Sullivans’ ball this week? I assume you’ll both be attending,” Philip said as he entered the room.
Once Harrison rose and exchanged handshakes, Philip sat down right next to Annabelle.
Harrison shrugged. “Is there anyone of any importance in the city who won’t be attending?” he asked, growing annoyed that his cousin was sitting just a little too close to Annabelle to suit him.
Philip laughed, but he looked at Annabelle when he replied, “I hope you’ll save a dance for me.”
“I thought you were returning to Boston to spend Christmas with your sister and her family,” Harrison blurted before she had a chance to respond.
“That was exactly my plan until yesterday, when I got word from my sister that two of her children had taken sick, along with her husband,” he replied. “I didn’t think you’d mind if I stayed for another week or two, considering that you’ll be living out here with your wife now. I contacted Mrs. Sullivan to see if it was possible for me to rescind the decline I’d sent her, and she was gracious enough to assure me that I’d be welcome to attend.” He narrowed his gaze. “Unless that interferes somehow with your plans or you mind that I’ll be relying on your hospitality a little while longer,” he added.
Annoyed that he had betrayed his thoughts by frowning, Harrison forced himself to smile. “Not at all,” he assured his cousin, unwilling to tell him that what he minded most of all was the look of pleasure on his wife’s face that Philip’s extended stay had inspired.
Chapter Thirteen
Within three days, Annabelle developed a fairly satisfying daily routine, though she still hoped to find something to do with her time that was more meaningful.
After dinner she skipped the short nap she had planned and took her knitting to the parlor with her when Philip arrived for a visit for the fourth afternoon in a row. By his suggestion, she continued to work at knitting a pair of socks to be donated to the local almshouse. It would be far more useful than the lady’s reticule she had started, and she even had plans to expand her knitting to include mittens and scarves, although she doubted she would be here long enough to finish more than a few of them. “Tell me what you’ve been able to learn about my idea,” she urged Philip, hoping to distract him from asking her for a second time to spend part of the afternoon in the city to visit some of the many landmarks.
Lounging on the winged bench seat, he sighed. “Very well. I checked this morning with Nathan Drummond, who is the director at the Refuge, which provides a temporary home for indigent women and children, and Byron Calder at the Graymoor Home for the Blind and Lame. Both welcomed your offer to volunteer your time, although they were quite surprised, given Harrison’s total lack of interest in either institution.”
Heartened, she was too excited to be able to concentrate on her knitting and set it on her lap. “They did? Truly?”
He chuckled. “If half the people I approach to support any number of charities were half as enthusiastic as you are, there wouldn’t be the great need to encourage them to untie their purse strings. Which means I wouldn’t have anything to do with my life,” he teased.
Embarrassed, she dropped her gaze. Impressed by this humble man’s decision to make his life’s work the betterment of others by raising money to help those unable to help themselves, she had already come to think of him as the brother she never had. At thirty-eight, he had no income of his own other than a small inheritance that provided for his limited needs. He also had no family of his own, yet he seemed very content and satisfied working for the benefit of others.
As unfair as it might be, she could not help but compare him to Harrison. Harrison spent much of his massive fortune indulging his own selfish interests, showing little concern about anything or anyone else. She was glad he was spending most of his days and nights back in the city, although she never knew when he was likely to show up for a few hours and leave again.
“Which institution appeals to you more?” he asked.
She glanced up at him. “Truthfully, I’m not quite certain. Perhaps once I’ve had the opportunity to visit each of them—”
“Why not do that this afternoon? I’ll take you myself and have you back in time for a late supper, although I have plans for this evening and would have to send you back in my coach alone.”
Sorely tempted, she pressed her lips together and shook her head. “I probably shouldn’t. Harrison may come back this afternoon, and I wouldn’t want him to worry if I’m not here,” she offered, although she really had no idea if he was going to return at all until the night of the ball.
Philip got to his feet. “I saw Harrison myself this morning. As I recall, he mentioned remaining in the city tonight, but said he would be returning to Graymoor Gardens tomorrow to escort you to the ball. I thought you knew.”
“No, I didn’t,” she murmured, embarrassed that she did not know of her husband’s plans for tonight. Although he had returned to tell her about the people attending the ball, he still had not finished his description of one last family, and she hoped he would find time to do that.
Without wasting another thought to worry, she stuffed her knitting back into her knitting bag. “I can be ready in ten minutes. No, wait. I need to go out to the cottage to let Irene know to plan for a late supper. Give me fifteen minutes,” she said and hurried from the room.
After storing her knitting back in her room, she rushed down the servants’ staircase and grabbed her cape and gloves, but she did not put them on until she was in the basement. By the time she entered the tunnel, she could not decide if Harrison had a single redeeming quality, other than his charm and handsome looks, which he most definitely used to his own advantage.
“Selfish, selfish man,” she grumbled as she walked. “He doesn’t even have the decency to let me know he’s not coming home so I can tell Irene, which means more food will go to waste. And I expect this man to be more supportive of the less fortunate? A man who won’t even maintain the same level of support to the very charities his own family started? That man?”