by Tuft, Karen
They arrived, and Kit assisted Elizabeth from the hackney and paid the driver. “After you, my lady,” he said with a smile, holding the door to Gunter’s open for her.
“Thank you, my lord,” she said.
The delicious smells of the ices and sweetmeats hit her nostrils the moment she stepped inside. Customers milled about, while others were seated at tables, enjoying their treats. Elizabeth felt the eyes of those who turned to look at her when she entered—she’d been so focused on Kit and the almost-kiss and the idea of ices that she’d forgotten for a few minutes that others would see her and pass judgment and even talk about her.
Kit led her to a table near the back of the shop, and Elizabeth kept her head high and her eyes straight ahead as she followed him. As she did, she couldn’t help but overhear a few whispered words. Troubling, pathetic, disgraceful.
She did not respond but was glad when Kit offered her the chair that showed her back to the rest of the room. It was a relief not to be able to see the others in the shop, and this would allow her to enjoy herself more fully.
“Welcome!” the shop proprietor, Mr. Gunter himself, said. “How can I be of service to you today?”
“We have decided,” Kit began, taking several coins from his coin purse and handing them to Mr. Gunter, “that we would like to sample all of your ices this afternoon. A taste of each. I am hoping you will accommodate us in this—I am eager to know which of your many excellent and elegant offerings the lady prefers.”
“Excellent, my lord,” Mr. Gunter said, rubbing his hands together. “Rest assured, all of my ices are a delight to the senses.”
“I do not doubt it for a moment, having tasted your wares many times, sir. So has the lady. But today, our purpose is to determine the lady’s favorites. I wish for her to immerse her senses in something pleasurable, and what better than at Gunter’s for that to occur.”
Elizabeth was certain her face was bright pink. All of this talk of pleasure and senses and delight was at once both exciting and embarrassing, although Kit hadn’t actually said anything improper.
“We shall do all in our power to make sure the lady’s experience this afternoon is both enlightening and enjoyable.” He bowed and left.
A serving girl brought them tea almost immediately thereafter, and another serving girl carrying a tray laden with dishes, each holding a spoonful or two of flavored ice, followed her. Elizabeth and Kit tasted water ices flavored with bergamot, elder flowers, lemon, and jasmine, and royal ice cream and chocolate ice cream and filbert. Crispy biscuits on saucers accompanied the various ices and were just as irresistible.
“Oh dear,” Elizabeth said after sampling most of them. “I do not know if I can choose a favorite or if I can even eat another bite.” She took a small sip of tea and sat back in her chair. “I believe I shall have to simply write that I like them all in my notebook.”
“Surely there is one or, perhaps, two flavors that you would consider first the next time you visit Gunter’s,” Kit said. He took the last bite of chocolate ice cream in his sample bowl and closed his eyes as he savored it. “Mm. I think I will always prefer chocolate.”
“I do like the chocolate,” Elizabeth said in agreement. “I think the orange ice is a favorite too. But they are all so delicious; I should be happy with any that are offered to me.”
“And so would I. We are at least matched as far as agreeableness toward ices, then.” He pushed his chair back from the table. “We are near Hyde Park. Would you care to take another stroll there today? Walk off a bit of what we’ve eaten and stretch our legs?”
This was the time of day when those who wished to see and be seen would be in the park, and although Elizabeth was feeling more confident, she wasn’t sure she was ready to take on so many of the ton all at once. “I think walking during the early hours when it was quieter was enough for me today. But I would enjoy it very much if we were to walk back to Lady Walmsley’s house rather than take a hackney.” It wasn’t that far; if Kit had realized how much walking she’d done the past year at Marwood Manor, he wouldn’t have arranged for a hackney to take them to Gunter’s.
“I can agree to that,” Kit said. He rose and offered her his hand. “Shall we, then?”
“Yes,” she said, placing her hand in his.
The stroll back to Lady Walmsley’s house was not to be, however, for as soon as they exited Gunter’s, a hackney drove up, and one of Lady Walmsley’s footmen leaped out before it had even come to a complete stop.
“Ho, there, Lord Cantwell, Lady Elizabeth!” the footman called to them. “I’ve been sent posthaste to bid you return to Lady Walmsley’s as soon as is possible. My lady has received a letter, and it has put her into such a state of anxiety as we have never seen before. Come quickly, do!”
What could have happened? Elizabeth thought, feeling sick inside. But there was only one thing that would upset Lady Walmsley like this: something must have happened to her niece, Lady Halford, and the impending birth of her child.
Chapter 14
Kit assisted a frantic Elizabeth into the hackney. He felt somewhat frantic himself, for it had only taken hearing the footman’s words to draw a simple conclusion as to the letter’s contents: something must have occurred regarding Amelia and her unborn child.
He sent a silent prayer skyward that all would be well with them.
The ride back to Lady Walmsley’s house was a quiet and tense one, and as soon as they reached it, they both hurried inside.
Foster was pointing this way and that and giving directions to various servants. When he spotted Kit and Elizabeth, he hurried over to them. “I am greatly relieved the two of you have returned. Lady Walmsley is in her rooms. I tried to convince her to rest, but she refuses. The entire household is in an uproar.”
“I’ll go up to her,” Elizabeth said, laying her hand on the butler’s shoulder.
“I’m going with you,” Kit stated emphatically. “She has been entrusted to my care, and I intend to see to it fully.”
Elizabeth nodded in concession, and the two of them raced up the stairs to Lady Walmsley’s room—Kit knew the main floor of the house well but had to allow Elizabeth to go before him, as he had no idea where Lady Walmsley’s rooms were.
When they reached her door, Elizabeth knocked. “Lady Walmsley,” she called. “Kit and I are here. May we come in, please?” When there was no immediate response, Elizabeth knocked again. “Lady Walmsley?”
“Enough of this,” Kit said. He pounded on the door. “Lady Walmsley, I intend to come in there and make sure for myself that you are well. If you do not open the door by the count of three, I’m going to—”
The door swung open.
“You needn’t resort to violence, you know,” Lady Walmsley said. Her eyes were red and swollen from crying, and her face wore an expression of grief, a letter clutched in her hand. “Nothing has happened to me, after all. It’s my dear Amelia—” Her voice faltered, and she began to sob.
“Give me the letter,” Kit demanded.
She handed it to him. Elizabeth drew near so she could read it at the same time.
Dear Aunt Margaret,
The baby is determined to arrive before its time, and so the doctor has ordered me to stay in bed. Anthony and I are, of course, praying for the best, and Mother and Father Ashworth have been extremely kind and helpful. But I long to have you with me. I hope what I am asking is not too much of an imposition, but I think having you here would lift my spirits.
Please do not worry. I have assured the doctor that I am very stubborn and am determined, for Anthony’s sake, that our child be born healthy.
I miss you,
Your loving niece, Amelia
Elizabeth threw her arms around Lady Walmsley’s shoulders. “We shall do everything in our power to get you to Ashworth Park as quickly as possible.” She looked at Kit to confirm her words.
“We shall indeed,” Kit said decisively. Once again, he must escort Lady Walmsley somewhere with no warning or preparation, but in this case, there was no question in his mind. He must see her safely to Ashworth Park and to Amelia’s side.
He left Elizabeth with Lady Walmsley and went to speak to Foster.
“What is the status of the preparations?” he asked the butler, whom he found near the kitchen, instructing the cook.
“The coach is being readied, my lord, although I confess, I’m concerned about leaving so late in the afternoon. Darkness will be upon us soon, and with darkness, highwaymen and the like . . .”
“If we can leave within the half hour, we will be fine. I intend for us to take lodging at High Wycombe and continue on from there tomorrow morning. And if we cannot make it to High Wycombe, I am sure we will find suitable lodging at one of the other villages along the way. I have traveled this route so many times, Foster, that I could manage it in my sleep.”
“That is a comfort, my lord, a true comfort.”
“I am leaving now so that I can see to the preparations at my own residence. We will need both Lady Walmsley’s and my own coach so that she and Lady Elizabeth and I may ride in one and my valet and their personal maids may ride in the other. I can accommodate all of the servants when we reach Cantwell Hall.”
“That reassures me a great deal, my lord. That woman has no idea what her impulsive ways do to my peace of mind. Well, never mind that; I have said too much already.”
Kit, despite his concern for Amelia and the baby, couldn’t help but crack a smile. Old Foster, experienced butler that he was, had a soft spot for his employer. Kit was glad of that.
He bid Foster adieu and went to hail a hackney to take him home. There was much to do before they left for Oxfordshire, and the sooner they were on their way, the better.
***
Elizabeth was on her way to Ashworth Park. Again.
It had been decided that Kit would ride with the ladies in his coach, and his valet would travel with the ladies’ personal maids in Lady Walmsley’s coach. “We must take care of our womenfolk, wouldn’t you agree?” Kit had said to his valet, a man named Jack Wilcox.
“I would wholeheartedly, my lord,” Mr. Wilcox said with a bow and a wink that Elizabeth noted had been directed at Sally. Tompkins, Lady Walmsley’s personal maid and a woman of middle years, only smirked.
The luggage had been secured to the coaches, and it was time to get on their way. Foster, of all people, assisted Lady Walmsley into the coach.
“Take care, my lady. Have no worries here; I shall make sure all remains in good order while you are gone. And I add my prayers to the many others being offered for the good health of your great-niece and her infant.”
“Oh, Foster, I don’t know what I would do without you!” Lady Walmsley exclaimed, her eyes once again welling up with tears. “You are such a good and steady man.”
He backed away from the coach so Elizabeth could enter next. Kit followed quickly, and once they were all seated, Kit gave the coachman the signal to begin.
With the sudden news of Amelia and her baby, there hadn’t been time to think about matters; their only focus had been to get Lady Walmsley to her great-niece’s side as quickly as possible.
Now that they were on their way, Elizabeth had time to ponder what this journey meant specifically for her.
She was on her way to the home of the man she was to have married had he not died and the home of his brother, the other man she was to have married had her parents gotten their way. The home of that brother’s wife, the woman her father had whipped cruelly, the home of the man who had dueled with her father as a result of it. There wasn’t a more wholly inappropriate place to which Elizabeth could imagine herself going.
What would they think when she showed up on their doorstep? As Lady Walmsley’s companion and guest, would they turn her away?
They had every right to do so; Elizabeth wouldn’t blame them if they did.
What if they did? Where would she go? She had no money to pay to stay at an inn. She was entirely dependent upon Lady Walmsley’s generosity.
Kit sat across from Lady Walmsley and her, facing backward, his hat next to him on the seat. His eyes were intent upon Lady Walmsley, as though he would spring into action at any moment to assist her, if needed. Lady Walmsley sat silently next to Elizabeth, staring out the window, her face drawn, her hands twisting her handkerchief over and over. The letter had taken its toll on her, poor lady.
Elizabeth wished she knew what she could do to help ease Lady Walmsley’s mind, but there was no new knowledge to be had, of course. And yet, her heart was so full of love for Lady Walmsley, who had of her own free will rescued Elizabeth from a bleak situation, that she was moved by the poor lady’s distress to do something.
She placed her own hand on Lady Walmsley’s to still their movements. “I am praying for them in my heart, Lady Walmsley, and for you. And I will pray all the way to Oxfordshire. I am sure that both Amelia and her baby will be just fine.”
“Oh, my sweet girl,” Lady Walmsley exclaimed. “You are such a blessing to me. I think I would rather you call me Aunt Margaret, if you wouldn’t mind. It sounds so much nicer to me.”
“I would consider it an honor,” Elizabeth said, tears nearly choking her words.
“That’s good, then.” She turned her head to continue looking through the coach window.
Elizabeth glanced at Kit. His eyes were directed at her now. She wished she knew what he was thinking.
She turned her own gaze out the coach window next to her, overwhelmed by Lady Walmsley’s generosity to her even in this dark hour, and tried not to think about how the Ashworth family would react when they saw her.
So she prayed instead—as she had assured Lady Walmsley she would do.
***
There could be few things more frustrating for a man, Kit thought, than seeing someone in pain and being unable to do anything about it. The second most frustrating thing was riding in a coach for an extended period of time.
As he was currently doing both, he wasn’t in the jolliest of moods.
Especially since one of the other most frustrating things for a man was to discover he was in love with his best friend’s betrothed. Not merely enamored, oh, no. Completely and utterly in love, made impossible by the fact that his best friend was dead, that he’d witnessed it, and that the woman still loved and grieved for the man.
Kit would rather be walking barefoot all the way to Oxfordshire than to be where he was at present. Were it not for his promise to Anthony and Amelia, he would not be in this coach. He would be at The Brick and Knee, enjoying a pint with Iverson or at White’s, playing vingt-et-un with his peers—or even at Parliament, arguing over soldiers’ wages and taxes and the like.
Lady Walmsley had eventually fallen into a fitful slumber, her head resting against Elizabeth’s shoulder. Elizabeth, too, had fallen asleep, her head against Lady Walmsley’s. The road hadn’t been too bumpy so far, thank goodness for them all. So Kit sat, riding backward, watching both ladies sleep, and counting the minutes until they reached High Wycombe.
It was a quaint scene, the two ladies together. Kit had watched their friendship and mutual love grow over the past few weeks. That didn’t mean that he wouldn’t rather be elsewhere.
Doing something.
He tapped his foot. He drummed his fingers. He listened to the tiny whistle that emerged from Lady Walmsley’s nose, along with her muffled snores. He watched the rise and fall of Elizabeth’s breathing as she slept.
It was hypnotizing, that rise and fall . . .
He was jolted awake when the coach came to a halt.
“Oh goodness,” Lady Walmsley said, sitting upright and looking about. “Are we here already? I must have fallen asleep. So sorry if I disturbed you, my dear.”
Elizabeth’s eyes blinked open, and for one unguarded moment as she awakened, her eyes caught Kit’s, and her entire face bloomed with radiance . . . before she apparently realized what she’d done and glanced down and away. “Not at all, Aunt Margaret. It appears we both got caught napping.”
“Just as well.” Lady Walmsley yawned, covering her mouth with her hand. “Helps the time pass more swiftly. Have we made it to High Wycombe, then, Cantwell? Or is this some other stop along the way?”
Kit, still a bit shaken by what he’d seen on Elizabeth’s face, quickly turned to look out the window. “High Wycombe, yes. It appears we have made it to our destination for the evening.” They’d apparently all slept—and longer than he would have expected. And Lady Walmsley was right; it was a relief to know they were done with the coach for the day. “I shall go in and make arrangements.”
He exited the coach and arranged for rooms for himself and the ladies and also for the servants accompanying them. He’d stayed here at The Hare and Beagle several times over the years, going back to when he’d stayed here with his parents when he and Phillip were lads. The inn had gained a new proprietor since then, but Kit was well acquainted with him as well.
The innkeeper, Mr. Hallam, and his good wife jumped into action and had rooms readied and supper on the table in no time. It seemed that something was finally being done, even if not by him, in regard to seeing everyone safely to Ashworth Park.
They dined on rich rabbit stew and fresh bread. None of them was much in the mood for conversation—it would only have turned to worrisome topics anyway—and when they were through, Kit set his napkin on the table and rose to his feet.
“Now that you ladies have eaten and are settled for the night, I will take my leave of you for a while.” He bowed, not waiting for their response and ignoring the surprised looks on their faces, and swiftly left the private dining room Mr. Hallam had arranged for their use.