Kit and Elizabeth

by Tuft, Karen

“You have impeccable timing, Lord Cantwell,” Lady Ashworth said. “We are merely waiting for Louisa to return from the nursery. She is helping settle the children for their naps; it is always a bit of a struggle the first day or two after they arrive at Grandpapa and Grandmama’s house. And Elizabeth will be here presently.” She looked at Buxton for confirmation. He nodded.

  “I’m relieved to know I have impeccable timing, but for what?” he asked the group in general.

  “We have chosen a name for the baby, Amelia and I,” Anthony said, “and wished to share it with everyone at the same time.”

  Louisa burst through the door, and Kit smiled. Even as a child, she had been full of exuberance. “The children are finally settled—at last!” she said as she made her way to the empty spot next to Farleigh. “You would think we never visit when we were here just a month ago. Oh! Cantwell, you are here as well? What great fun! I understand from Mama that you and Lady Elizabeth were an enormous help during Amelia’s confinement. I’m so relieved the two of you were here since Farleigh and I weren’t at hand. And this baby—isn’t she the most beautiful little thing?”

  “Outside of our own three babies, I would have to say yes,” Farleigh said, patting his wife’s hand.

  Kit listened with a smile to Louisa’s cheery yet rambling greeting, even after he’d noticed Elizabeth slip inside the door. He was keenly aware of her presence these days.

  “We were honored to have played a small part in this blessed event,” he said, then turned and crossed the room to her and offered her his arm. “Weren’t we, Elizabeth?”

  “Oh yes,” she said.

  He led her to one of the remaining empty chairs and moved to stand off to the side, near the fireplace. He ought to perhaps explain to them all that Buxton had made a presumption about the reason for his visit. He decided to remain silent instead.

  “Amelia and I have discussed the matter,” Anthony began, “and we are agreed.” He gently took the baby from Amelia’s arms and held her up for all to see. “Allow us to formally introduce you to Lady Alexandra Julia Eleanor Hargreaves, our daughter.”

  Both Lady Ashworth and Lady Walmsley gasped and immediately began to weep. Louisa buried her head against Farleigh’s chest, and he fished a handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to her.

  “We wish to have her christened a fortnight from this Sunday, if that meets with your approval, Mama, Papa.”

  “Oh, Anthony, Amelia, what a wonderful tribute to your brother!” Lady Ashworth exclaimed amidst her tears.

  “And to you, Mama,” Anthony said.

  “And to my dear Julia,” Lady Walmsley added before choking up and burying her face in her handkerchief.

  And then the women of the family began hugging each other and cooing over baby Alexandra, and the men began shaking hands and patting each other on the back, and Kit shook hands and patted backs too, and then the laughing and stories of nights of lost sleep and infant colic began amongst them, and Kit glanced at Elizabeth.

  He’d seen her stand and give hugs to the other ladies. He’d caught her cooing over baby Alexandra with the others. But now she stood slightly apart from the others, and Kit could sense as well as see in her expression that the statue, the daughter of the duke, had returned and taken the place of his Lizzie, and he wondered why.

  Regardless of the reason, he knew he had to do something.

  He crossed the room to her. “Let’s leave them to their joy, shall we?”

  She nodded.

  And so he discreetly led her from the room.

  Chapter 18

  Elizabeth was happy for Anthony and Amelia. She truly was. And baby Alexandra was the sweetest thing ever. They had honored Alex in the best of ways. They were together as a family and sharing the joy of new life and the love they shared that brought them together. Elizabeth had been overcome by it all the past few days. She counted herself truly blessed that she’d witnessed it all from start to finish—the fear, the worry, the pain, the waiting, the fatigue, and then the wonder, the thrill, and the joyful intimacy.

  Her life would never be the same because of these last few days. For there were events one experienced that ultimately changed the course of one’s life, and she had faced enough of those events in her own life to know that this was one of them.

  But right now, in this moment, she was so very angry that she was nearly vibrating from it.

  “I have planned for us to go on a picnic,” Kit said as they made their way down the corridor to the entry hall. “That poor stableboy I instructed to stay nearby undoubtedly thinks I have forgotten all about him. What do you say, Lizzie? Are you in the mood for a picnic?”

  Elizabeth looked at him and said nothing. She couldn’t say anything at present. All of her lifelong training was warning her that if she were to open her mouth, she would scream, and that simply wouldn’t do. Not here, not now, not with the Marquess of Ashworth and his entire family only a ways down the hall, basking in happiness. Despite the tumult inside her, she could tell that while Kit’s words were light, his eyes were serious and were searching hers.

  Sally came tripping down the corridor, a large covered basket in her hand. “Here you go, my lord,” she said. She curtsied, and then she left. She up and left, without a word to Elizabeth. She had brought a basket to Kit—why she had, Elizabeth had no idea—and then she’d gone tripping off again. And it irked Elizabeth excessively.

  “Let’s be off, Lizzie,” Kit said. He took her by the hand and led her from the house briskly. The stableboy was still there with the gig, and Kit tossed the basket into the back of it and practically heaved Elizabeth onto the seat before taking the reins from the boy. “Sorry about the wait,” he said, but the boy merely tugged on his cap and dashed away.

  They set off, and Kit concentrated on driving the gig and didn’t speak to her, which was just as well, as far as Elizabeth was concerned, for she was still angry. Her arms and legs tingled, and she could feel every beat of her heart. She couldn’t think. The lane and trees were a blur. The very essence of her felt so tightly wound that she thought she might strangle from the inside out.

  “Where are we going?” she finally managed to ask him after they’d gone a ways down the road.

  “You’ll find out soon enough,” he said.

  Which only made her angrier.

  There was a crack of thunder.

  “Blast,” he said.

  The rain started then, fat drops that fell faster and faster until it was pouring down on them. Thunder cracked again. Kit kept on driving.

  “There’s an umbrella in the back,” he hollered over the beating of the rain on the gig. And then he laughed, the beast.

  “Fine time to mention it,” Elizabeth shouted back. Shouting at him felt good.

  He turned off onto a narrow lane on the far side of Cantwell Hall, from what Elizabeth could determine, considering their situation and her general mood. The rain battered at them, and they were both drenched, but he kept on going until they made their way over a small hill, through a wooded area, and down the other side into a little valley.

  She hadn’t even had time to grab a bonnet or shawl, she thought grumpily, pushing away strands of hair that clung to her face. She shivered. Sally had been more concerned about giving that basket to Kit than she had been about Elizabeth.

  Kit leaped from the gig, coming around to the other side to help her down. He pointed through the trees. “There’s a gamekeeper’s shed over there,” he said. “I’ll just grab the baskets, and then we’ll go.”

  Elizabeth nodded and shivered, and then she decided she didn’t have to wait for him. Well, of course she didn’t have to. There was no rule that said she had to wait for him to walk her in as though they were at a formal dance. She was getting inside that shed and getting herself out of this deluge. He could follow whenever he wished with those all-important baskets. “Don’t forge
t the umbrella!” she shouted as she stomped through the trees in the direction he’d pointed.

  She was so very angry!

  She quickly spied the shed through the trees, thank goodness, and pushed onward, dodging the branches that got in her way. The foliage overhead blocked some of the rain, but not all of it, not that it mattered. She was soaked to the skin.

  The shed wasn’t locked, fortunately, but it wasn’t easy to open either, considering the fact that the structure was roughly made. She pushed the door open using both hands—oh, that was right; she didn’t have her gloves either—and finally stepped inside, out of the rain. She rubbed her hands together to try to warm them, then hissed with pain.

  There was a sliver in the palm of her hand. Of course there was. She carefully pried it out using her fingernails and sucked on the wound. Disgusting.

  Kit arrived then, a basket in each hand, the umbrella tucked under his arm. His hair was plastered to his head; he must have left his hat at Ashworth Park. She hadn’t actually thought about it until now.

  “What do you think?” he asked.

  What did she think? Oh, but she could give him a piece of her mind right now.

  “Never mind,” he said. “I can tell by the look on your face what you’re thinking, which thrills me, by the way, for back at Ashworth Park, I couldn’t tell at all, even though I knew something was wrong.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said. “Does this hovel have a fireplace, by any chance? Oh, wait, there’s one right over there.”

  “Sarcasm, excellent,” he said.

  An old wooden table and two chairs sat near a window, and another bigger table was near the fireplace, with a cupboard standing next to it. Kit walked over and set the baskets and umbrella on the second table. “Fortunately for us, the fire has already been laid, and there is plenty of dry firewood here,” he said. “But we aren’t ready for that yet, Lizzie. You wait here. I’ll be right back after I see to the horse.”

  He left the shed, left her alone in the shed, and since there was nothing else to do besides shiver with cold, she decided to explore the place further.

  The shed wasn’t large and was roughly divided into two sections. At one end of the shed were the fireplace and the two tables and chairs. It was obviously where the gamekeeper—whoever the fellow was—cooked and ate. The other end of the shed was partially hidden behind a wall that ran halfway across the room. Behind it were a bed and a small privacy screen, with a chamber pot tucked away behind it and a washstand bearing a basin nearby. There was also another cupboard. All the amenities, then.

  “Equipped with the comforts of home, wouldn’t you say?” Kit said as though he’d read her mind. She hadn’t even heard him return, what with the pounding of the rain on the roof of the shed.

  “Now that the horse is warm and happy, are you going to build our fire?” she asked.

  “Not quite yet. Let’s go.” He grabbed her hand and tugged her along with him until they were back outside in the rain.

  “What are you doing? Where are we going now?” she shouted, trying to twist her hand free.

  He led her around the far side of the cabin and down a slope . . . And that’s when she saw it.

  A pond.

  “Oh, no,” Elizabeth said, shaking her head furiously.

  “Oh, yes,” he said. He swung her up into his arms and carried her the rest of the way down the slope. “You are already soaked, you know. What better excuse? You’ll want to remove your shoes and stockings first, however.” He set her down so she was sitting on the ground and then sat beside her and began pulling off his boots.

  “Are you mad?” she cried.

  “Not at all, Lizzie. Oh, I should probably have asked earlier—you do know how to swim, don’t you?”

  “No, I don’t know how to swim! Do you honestly think my father would have condoned such an . . . an . . . unladylike thing as swimming? Don’t be ridiculous!”

  “Excellent. Then we shall soon discover whether swimming is something that will go on the list of things you like or the list of things you hate.” He’d removed both of his boots by now, as well as his stockings. He stood up. “Ready?”

  She’d removed only one shoe. What she should have been doing was running back to the shed while he was busy with his boots. Although, in the end, it wouldn’t matter. He’d only go get her, and they’d be right back here anyway. “I think I’d rather be fencing right now.”

  “Oh, I think not. I wouldn’t trust you with a weapon in your hands at present. Now, I’m giving you to the count of ten,” he said.

  “You wouldn’t dare,” she said.

  He grinned—a dangerous grin that told Elizabeth he would dare.

  She quickly removed the other shoe and both of her stockings.

  ***

  Kit could recall a time when he was a boy when his parents had taken both him and Phillip to the Royal Menagerie at the Tower of London. They’d seen an array of different animals, including monkeys of varying types, a hyena, and several species of wildcats from exotic locations. He and Phillip had been enthralled.

  Kit recalled one cat in particular: a leopard, which had been crouching in the corner of its cage and had seemed to be watching them closely. It had barely moved, but its eyes had followed Kit and Phillip as they’d wandered about, looking at the animals. The leopard had been quiet, too quiet, and Kit had been able to sense the pent-up energy of the beast. It had snarled a time or two.

  And then suddenly, the cat had pounced, lunging at the bars of the cage, its bared teeth just inches from Kit’s face. Kit had leaped back, tripping over Phillip and landing hard on his backside.

  Elizabeth was that animal today.

  She had been quiet at Ashworth Park, too quiet, but now, whatever had built up inside her was about to burst. Kit intended for that to happen here at the gamekeeper’s shed this afternoon, without anyone but him around to see it and pass judgment on her. He was also doing something he hadn’t done at the Royal Menagerie as a boy.

  He was poking her with a stick, metaphorically speaking.

  “One . . . ” he said.

  “I don’t like you very much right now,” she snapped, rolling up her stockings and shoving them in her shoes.

  “I don’t doubt it.” He stooped and placed one arm beneath her legs and the other behind her back and then lifted her. “Here we go.” He carried her down to the water’s edge. “All in at once? Or gradually?”

  She glared at him with angry heat.

  Definitely the leopard today, he thought.

  “Very well. All in.” He walked out into the pond with her in his arms until the water was waist deep. The water was on the cold side, but he’d experienced worse. “Ready?” he asked, taking a few more steps into the pond, until the water was nearly to the middle of his chest. The rain wasn’t coming down as furiously as it had been before, but it still fell, pelting the surface of the water and creating little rippling circles that radiated into each other. He lifted her up a bit higher in his arms to delay the inevitable a little longer.

  “I’m never going to forgive you—ever!” she cried.

  “Oh, yes, you will. Get ready to hold your breath. On the count of three: one, two . . .”

  She took a deep breath and threw her arms around his neck.

  “Three,” he said. He let go of her legs and bent his knees, sinking into the water until they were both submerged and rising again until their heads cleared the surface.

  She gasped and sputtered and then inhaled deeply.

  “Well, what do you know, Lizzie? You survived. It will feel warmer if we move around.” He began to walk slowly through the water. “See how the water lifts you? I’ve got you; don’t worry. Let yourself float.”

  “I don’t know how!” she exclaimed, still clinging to him until he thought he might choke. He ge
ntly tugged on her arm so he could get air into his lungs.

  “Here, let me help you.” He took hold of her at the waist. “Now let go of me, and I’ll turn you around, then rest your head back on my shoulder.” She let go, and he rotated her in the water so she was facing away from him. “That’s it. Now just lean your head back and let your legs float up.”

  “I can’t.”

  “I think you can.”

  She growled a little and then rested her head on his shoulder, and he moved his arms to support her back. Eventually, he saw her toes pop up above the surface of the water, and her knees bobbed on the surface. And then she panicked, and her arms began to flail, and she kicked her feet.

  “Relax, Lizzie,” he said. “Trust the water to do its job, and trust me.”

  She took in a deep breath, and her toes rose to the surface again.

  “That’s good. You’ll be a swimmer in no time at all.”

  “I’m not so sure about that,” she said. But she let out a deep sigh and relaxed further. “This does feel nice though, although, I’m exceedingly cold. And the rain is hitting me in the face, you know.”

  “Not as much as it was when we were in the gig, at least,” he said. He’d completely forgotten about the cold; he’d been so focused on her, but she was right. “We’ll return to the shed now, then, if you’re ready.”

  “Maybe in another minute or two,” she said.

  And Kit smiled and kissed her cold, wet cheek.

  She swished her arms back and forth at her sides, her fingers spread wide, and adjusted the position of her head against his shoulder. “Papa must be turning over in his grave right now,” she said, “and Mama would be horrified.”

  “And does that matter?” he asked.

  She didn’t reply for a long while, and when she did, it wasn’t an answer to his question. “I think I’m ready to go back to the shed now,” she said.

  He held on to her while she got her feet soundly beneath her on the bottom of the pond, and he kept his arm around her to keep her steady in the water—besides, he would use any excuse to have his arm around her. The minute they reached the edge of the pond, she began shivering badly, so he scooped her up and ran to the shed. “Our shoes and stockings are already wet,” he said between breaths as he ran, “and the rain has mostly stopped. They can wait while we get ourselves dry. Priorities.”