Love Birds of Regent's Park

by Ruth J. Hartman

  Lucy sat on her mother’s favorite bench, just beneath the maple tree her father had had planted for her mother shortly after Lucy was born. The tree had grown quite tall in the whole of Lucy’s years, now providing shelter, shade, and homes for nesting birds.

  Now that Lucy had spent time at the Sanctuary learning about some of the birds, she knew that the newly hatched babies in the nest above her were sparrows. And the talkative tiny ones flittering about the roses were finches. She hadn’t seen any owls on the property, but that didn’t stop her from looking. Wouldn’t it be amusing to discover a sleeping long-eared owl in her very own tree?

  She tilted her head back against the bench and studied the tree above her. The mother sparrow fed her chirping babies one at a time, their small mouths open wide, waiting for dinner. Oh, how she missed her own mother. The tree brought back pleasant memories of time spent together beneath it, of talks and picnics and playing with Gerald’s predecessor, his mother Gertrude. But sadness came along as well. It reminded her of her mother’s illness, the pain she'd suffered before she died. Lucy’s father’s grief and loss, as well as her own.

  Now, when Lucy had questions about life… love… her feelings for Oliver, it would have helped to have her mother’s advice and guidance. It seemed now that she was older, more and more questions crowded into her mind at every turn. Events that would have included her mother, important events, would be forever tarnished. Courtship. Marriage. Children.

  And Lucy couldn’t imagine in a world of lifetimes, confiding these confusing feelings to her father.

  No, never.

  He’d frown at her and tell her she was absurd for even thinking such thoughts, much less asking him for advice about them. Then he’d shoo her away so he could get back to his work. And remind her to be a good girl. Sometimes, no, more than sometimes, he hurt her feelings. Why must he be so brusque? Of course he could never have the sensitive nature as a woman would have, but must he be so impatient and ill-tempered with her at times?

  Thank goodness Lucy had Anna to lend a sympathetic ear. They had whispered their hopes and secret longings about the new men they’d met, of course. But despite her age, Anna was as much a novice in the ways of love as was Lucy.

  Both innocent.

  Inexperienced in the pursuit of relationships and romance.

  Two babes in the woods.

  What to do? It seemed she was on her own as to her feelings for Oliver. A man of great warmth, humor, and intelligence. Soft brown eyes and gentle hands. A love for birds and nature and all that those entailed, even the less appealing items, such as muddy paths and smelly pond water. All because he longed to be a part of the world where the birds lived.

  But he possessed no wealth. No income deemed worthy by which to care for Lucy.

  Which her father would detest.

  Besides that, Father seemed determined that she would marry Conrad anyway.

  Sigh.

  No matter what came of her time spent with Oliver, Lucy would not shy away from him. In fact, she couldn’t stop thinking of the man. Deep dimple. Broad shoulders and strong arms. More than that, though. It was his heart. His very living soul that called her, drew her closer, enveloped her in warmth and… love.

  Yes love. Be it near impossible to comprehend, she had fallen in love with someone she barely knew. If someone else had told Lucy the same had happened to her, she’d call them foolish and preposterous. That she hadn’t an ounce of common sense about her.

  And yet wasn’t that what she had become? Did that fact matter to her? No. Not a whit. She’d never experienced feelings like this before, and she didn’t want to give them up. Rather, she intended to embrace them with her whole heart.

  And it was all because of one Oliver Barrow.

  She was now the one caught in the strong grasp of love’s tempting pull, and she had not the wherewithal to abstain. Its strong grip held her tight, pulling her in, drawing her nearer and nearer. And she had no inclination to put up a struggle. Something wonderful, magical was happening to her. Why wouldn’t she want to discover what it was about?

  Lucy glanced down. Her cat still sat at her feet, unblinking, studying her as if she were a specimen of some sort. Perhaps it was a good thing that he couldn’t read her thoughts at present. She patted the bench seat. “Come and see me, Gerald.”

  Merrow.

  The cat’s caramel eyes widened as his whiskers twitched. Strong hind legs pushed from the ground, propelling his compact furry body through the air and onto the bench. He landed squarely on all four paws at the same time. Dancing in place, he kneaded the bench, his front paws lifting up and down. Up and down. Purring louder, he tapped her lap with his paw. Twice.

  A smile played across Lucy’s mouth. “Yes, you may.” The trick she’d taught him as a kitten still amused her. He’d been a pudgy ball, then, so full of energy and mischief, always wanting to play or learn something new.

  Gerald climbed onto her lap and turned in a circle. Once. Twice. Thrice. Always three times. Never varying. As if her cat could count. And she had not taught him that.

  “But you are a smart fellow, aren’t you, darling?”

  The cat squinted and sighed before curling in a contented ball, tucking his pink nose beneath his fluffy tail. Lucy stroked his soft fur, running her fingers through the orange-tipped coat. “What do you think, Gerald? Should I continue to visit the Bird Sanctuary? Continue my acquaintance with Oliver?”

  He purred.

  She chuckled. “I should have known you’d agree with me. Since you are my best friend. Best friends stick together, do they not? Or is it the mention of birds that stirs you so?”

  The cat, with one eye open, did something that could only be described as smile. Both sides of his mouth curved up beneath pudgy cheeks, white whiskers pointing straight out to the sides of his round face.

  “Ah, I see the truth now, Gerald. The thought of multitudes of birds just out of reach of your furry little paws causes your delight, hmm? Is that what takes place in your dreams?”

  He rolled on his back, presenting his round little tummy for a rub.

  “I suppose I have no choice but to oblige you, then.”

  Gerald wrapped all four paws around her hand, extending his needle-sharp claws. Just a little, just enough to show Lucy who was in charge of the situation. But then, she’d never had any doubt that he ruled the house.

  Quite the demanding little feline, that one.

  Laughing, she rubbed her fingers back and forth, back and forth, creating soft rivers of fur going in all directions. Her cat closed his eyes. The rumble from his chest sounded like thunder, loud and long.

  “Let it never be said that I shirked my duty to you, Sir Gerald. I live to serve you, of course. I’m sure you think that’s my entire reason for being.”

  A rustle came from behind the rose trellis. Boots tapped along the path. Anna appeared. All smiles. A tint of attractive pink colored her cheeks. Lucy shook her head. Her maid was definitely in love, bless her. How wonderful for her to have found love and contentment at her age.

  At any age.

  “Come sit with me, Anna.”

  She stepped across the path toward the bench. “I see Gerald found you. He was wailing all over the house looking for you, like his little world had ended and you were the only one he could talk to about it.”

  “My tiny shadow always finds me eventually. It’s as if when he can’t see me, he must find me to assure himself I’m not into mischief. But we know who’s the true mischief-maker, don’t we, Gerald?” More fur-rubbing produced even louder purrs.

  The bench shifted as Anna sat.

  Lucy turned toward her. “You’ve a flush.”

  Anna waved her hand in front of her face, but didn’t look directly at Lucy. “Do I?”

  “You’ve developed an affection for Mr. Warner, haven’t you?”

  A shrug of the shoulders. A sigh. Finally, a nod.

  “I’m so happy for you, Anna.”

  “T
ruly?” She raised her head and peered at Lucy, her eyes bright.

  Lucy nodded. “Of course.”

  “I know it’s sudden. But…” She sighed.

  “Yes. Sudden. But… I do understand.”

  “You’ve a flush, too, dear.”

  Lucy glanced down at Gerald, suddenly intent upon making sure she petted his fur in the proper direction. “Must be the heat. It’s quite humid today.”

  “Nonsense. I’ve known you since you were a little girl. You can’t fool me, Lucy Ashbrook. You’ve strong feelings for Mr. Barrow.”

  A shrug. A sigh. A nod.

  “Isn’t it something that we both found someone for whom we have strong feelings? And to have found them at the same time and place?”

  “It does seem rather incredible, does it not? And that they are acquainted with each other and appear to be close.”

  “I never thought it could happen to me, Lucy.” She clasped her hands in her lap.

  “Why ever not?”

  “I’m certainly past… way past the age when most women…”

  “But Mr. Warner is close to your age, isn’t he?”

  “Yes, I suppose so.”

  “And would you really want to be attracted to someone, say of eighty years?”

  Anna giggled and shook her head, the ribbon on her hat gliding back and forth.

  “Or someone, perhaps, of no more than twenty years?”

  She waved a hand at Lucy. “Oh, heavens no.”

  “So you see, it’s perfect just the way it’s happened, then.”

  “I suppose you’re right.”

  Lucy laughed. “So I am right for once? Since I’m always hearing it's you who is always in the right?”

  Anna smiled and tapped Lucy’s hand. “Well aren’t we just a pair, you and I, dear girl?”

  “But a pair of what? That’s the question.” Lucy raised her eyebrows “Fools? Dreamers? Silly-hearts?”

  She shook her head. “Love birds. Definitely love birds.”

  “Perhaps that’s the reason we enjoy the Bird Sanctuary so, to be near other birds.”

  “Oh, that’s not the reason. Not at all.”

  They giggled like two little girls in their first years playing in the nursery together. Light. Comfort. Hope. Love.

  There was that word again.

  Love.

  Chapter Nine

  “That crazy goose is still wearing my hat.”

  Anna leaned toward Lucy, the edge of her hat brushing against Lucy’s. “Well you must admit, dear, it is a lovely shade of yellow.”

  “It’s white.” Poor woman. Forever mistaken on any given day about any given color.

  “Pardon? Oh. Well. Nevertheless, the goose has good taste in attire.”

  A smile tugged at Lucy’s lips. “Indeed. But it was one of my favorites. It’s as if the goose knew that and absconded with it just for spite.”

  “I’m sure if you batted your lashes at Mr. Barrow, he’d give the hat-rescue another go.”

  Lucy lightly smacked Anna’s hand. “Anna. I wouldn’t do that.” She raised one corner of her lips. “Well, perhaps I would, but… in any case, I shouldn’t think it pleasant to wear a hat after it’s been paraded around the pond by a large grey bird.”

  “I see your point.” She grimaced. “You might sprout feathers.”

  “And wouldn’t that be a sight.” She tapped her chin with her forefinger. Although…”

  Anna raised both eyebrows. “Yes?”

  “If I were a bird…”

  “Ah. You’d be even more attractive to a certain Sanctuary worker, hmm?”

  Laughter bubbled up from Lucy’s throat. “Yes. I think I might at that.”

  “I think you are already very attractive to the aforementioned worker.”

  Lucy shrugged. “Perhaps.”

  “You ladies seem to be in high spirits this morning.” Mr. Warner’s deep voice startled them.

  “Oh, Richard.” Anna’s breath came in quick little puffs. She waved her hand in front of her reddened face.

  Good heavens, the poor woman looked as if she might swoon at any moment. Should Lucy try to find some smelling salts? She glanced at Mr. Warner, who was looking intently at Anna with a great big grin on his face. On second thought, if Anna swooned, surely Mr. Warner might be just as happy to catch her himself.

  He smiled. “Would you care to sit with me for a while… Anna?” A full blush colored his cheeks. They resembled twin ripe tomatoes.

  Lucy smiled. The older pair was so sweet together. They truly did seem a match, even though they’d just met. “Yes, please, do go ahead.”

  Anna glanced at Lucy, but she was already tugging Mr. Warner in the opposite direction. “Are you certain, dear?”

  “Yes. Quite certain.” Lucy bit her lip. If Anna tugged on Mr. Warner’s hand any harder, they’d both take a tumble down the nearby hill and then they might have a worry about broken bones. “I’m… I’ll find something with which to entertain myself. Drawing, perhaps.” She patted her reticule.

  Mr. Warner and Anna were several yards away before she’d finished her sentence. They certainly hadn’t wasted any time finding a place to be alone. Which sounded like a fine idea to Lucy, too, if a certain Sanctuary worker happened to be around.

  Lucy frowned. Is Mr. Barrow not here at present? He had always been there before during her visits. At least, since they’d begun their acquaintance. She had no idea how long he might have worked there before she started coming to sketch the birds.

  How disappointing if she was not to see him today. Reaching into her reticule, she retrieved her pencil and paper. Having finished her nuthatch, she’d started sketching the dastardly goose, sans hat. If she’d drawn the bird still wearing it, no one would believe it was real.

  The goose’s bill and neck formed on her paper. Turning the pencil with the tip on its side, Lucy shaded in the feathers of the face to make them appear softer. Feathers on the lower body would be more defined, with bolder lines outlining each one. Even though she wouldn’t draw the hat, the goose would most definitely have a gleam to the eye. Something must be done to convey the mischievousness of the bird.

  “It seems there would be things which would be of better use of you time.”

  A male voice. Not the one she longed to hear. Shiny, expensive boots stood not far from her. Without looking up, she muttered, “Hello, Conrad.”

  Foregoing invitation or returning the salutation, Conrad sat on the bench next to her. Too close. Heat from his skinny frame swept across her arm. Lucy lowered her eyebrows, this time giving the man a stare. “Pardon me, but do you suppose you could move a little to your left?”

  He harrumphed. “Whatever for? I’m in the shade here.”

  “Because you are sitting too close to me.” Anywhere in this hemisphere is too close!

  “But if I move, I’ll be in direct sun.”

  She gave him a withering glare, wishing she could cause him to disappear simply by her menacing look. “Conrad, you are sitting too close to me to be appropriate. Please move.”

  “But—”

  “Why must you always argue to get your way? Can’t you see that we would appear to be something we are not if you sit too closely?”

  He smiled. “Oh, I’d love for people to—”

  “I believe the lady asked you to move, Lofton.”

  Oliver!

  Conrad angled around and stared up at him. “Oh. It’s you.”

  “I do work here, after all.”

  “Yes. Of that I am fully aware. You work. Here.” Distaste hung on his pasty features. Although he did sport a sunburned nose from his earlier Sanctuary visit. Was it too much to hope the burn would eventually peel? And flake onto his spotless cravat?

  Why couldn’t the man simply move away from her? Not only because she didn’t like him, but because now Oliver was there. She had no wish for him to think that she and Conrad…

  A shudder ran through her. If her father had his way, that’s exactly ho
w things would be.

  Oliver leaned forward. “Miss Ashbrook, you’ve gone white as a ghost.”

  Conrad squinted. “You do look as if you drank something akin to pond water.”

  Oh, Conrad, how aptly put. Because touching you in any form would make me physically ill.

  She smiled at Oliver. “I’m fine. Truly.” A slight tilt of her head toward Conrad.

  Oliver nodded. “Right. How about a nice long walk?”

  “Yes,” said Lucy.

  “No,” said Conrad.

  She turned toward the toad sitting next to her. “Don’t feel as if you must join us, Conrad. I’m sure you have other things that would pique your interest rather than taking another walk through the Sanctuary. That is, unless, you wished to visit your cuckoo friend again.”

  This time, Conrad shuddered. “No, I don’t wish to reacquaint myself with that. But I must insist on coming with you, Lucy.” He peered at Oliver. “As a chaperone.”

  She held up her hand in front of him. “I don’t see how—”

  “Ah.” Conrad’s smile resembled an alligator’s wide grin. “It was your father who made the suggestion.”

  “Pardon me?”

  “Oh yes. It’s true.”

  “Well, we’ll just see about that, won’t we?” She crossed her arms.

  “Absolutely, Lucy. I encourage you to ask your father. In the mean time, if you take a walk with him, just know that I will be there as well.”

  “Fine.” Lucy stood abruptly from the bench in a rustle of skirts. Conrad was stubborn enough to carry through with his threat. If she wished to spend any time at all with Oliver today, it would have to be with the skulking vulture along for the ride. But she would definitely be telling her father about Conrad’s words and actions. How dare he? And how dare he say it was her father’s idea? Yes, he’d told her many times that she would do well to marry Conrad, but he’d never forced her. Lately, though, he had seemed determined that she accept Conrad’s proposal.

  She bit her lip. It couldn’t be true. Could it? Surely her father wouldn’t do that to her. He was stubborn. But…