God’s commands were meant not only to please Himself but to make life better for the people He created. Cecil could see that now.
❧
“Lord Giles and Lady Violet have come to call, milady,” the butler told Eunice.
Eunice and her aunt were known to be at home on Thursday afternoons, so the fact they had callers was no surprise. The callers’ identities were another matter, since neither woman was well acquainted with either guest.
“Lord Giles and Lady Violet! Oh, my, how exciting! Send them in,” Aunt May instructed. “And bring tea and biscuits immediately.”
“Yes, milady.” He gave them a quick bow and departed.
“But Auntie, they will not be expecting refreshments for a short visit,” Eunice protested, making sure to keep her voice gentle. Aunt May was already in the process of compiling her invitation list for social occasions, and to her mind, Lord Giles and Lady Violet would be esteemed guests to add.
“A little good food never hurt either body or soul.” Aunt May looked out the window. Eunice followed her lead and noted a dark and dreary sky. “Especially when they have come all this way on such a miserable day.”
Unable to argue the point, Eunice followed Aunt May to the parlor where they always received callers. They had concentrated their first labors on that room in particular, and their efforts showed. Botanical wallpaper with delicate pink roses on a cream-colored background looked fresh. Eunice and her aunt had agreed upon new velvet draperies in a deep green to compliment the flower stems on the paper. Eunice had been pleased with the result. The rich fabric added elegance to their surroundings and picked up the deep green stripes in both the sofa and the winged chairs. The finest pieces of mahogany furniture in the house—a rocking chair, tea table, and two other occasional tables—found their place here. Polished to a sheen, the select pieces fashioned of coveted wood discreetly told their visitors that the home was occupied by fine ladies.
If doubt remained, guests needed only to look upon the two full-length portraits of Grandmamma and Grandpapa. The oil paintings were larger than life, together occupying the entire west wall. Grandmamma was in her prime, a new bride lounging in the formal gardens, dressed in the best finery of her day. She held in the crook of her arm a spoiled-looking dog with long white hair. Grandpapa, apparently in another part of the gardens, likewise cut a fine figure in his military uniform that was decorated with ribbons and pins bestowed by the king’s army for bravery in battle. Two well-groomed hunting dogs stood by his side.
These were not the portraits painted by traveling artists—the ones who painted dresses and suits ahead of time and filled in a subject’s head once the portrait was commissioned. No. The artist must have spent months depicting them in the finery they once owned. Eunice had the clothing in the attic wardrobe to prove it. Of every item in the room, Eunice was most proud of her portraits. One could purchase furniture, rugs, and statues. Family could not be bought at any price.
Eunice allowed herself a contented sigh as she straightened the lines of her dress so that the fabric sat in a neat line against the sofa. A welcoming fire crackled, emitting the pleasant scent of burning pine into the room. Perhaps the rest of the house left something to be desired, but surely the parlor had become a masterpiece of exquisite taste.
Sir Giles entered with the flourish expected according to his reputation, as though the occupants of the room had been waiting for him with rapt anticipation and the advent of his arrival meant that life could begin at the manor house. Lady Violet followed closely behind him, looking afraid of her shadow as she always did when she was a little girl. Had Lady Violet not been announced, Eunice wouldn’t have recognized her. They had made brief acquaintance when they were both girls. Violet had become plump, and her hair had darkened over the years. Eunice swept her hands over her dress in a move of sudden self-consciousness. Had she changed so in the past decade?
As the four of them chatted, Eunice was pleased to discover that Violet might be a kindred spirit. Her brother, in the meantime, flirted with her aunt in the overly gallant way that a handsome young man might employ to flatter an elderly lady who wouldn’t misconstrue his attentions as sincere. The looks and subtle observations he sent Eunice’s way were not the flowery speech of Lord Milton but seemed to convey a serious undertone. Eunice squirmed. Surely any woman would be pleased to draw Lord Giles’s attention, but she chose to withhold her judgment. A man’s relationship with the Lord weighed far more heavily with Eunice than his title, appearance, or fortune.
“Miss Norwood,” Lord Giles said, interrupting her musings, “I understand you have been teaching Lord Sutton his manners.”
Taken aback, Eunice felt herself blush. Had she and Cecil become the subject of local gossip? For Cecil’s sake, she wanted to deny she was giving him lessons at all, but her faith and personal integrity stopped her. “I–I did not realize that the lessons were common knowledge.”
“So the rumors are true.”
“Lord Giles, if the purpose of your visit is to gossip—”
“No, of course not,” Violet intervened. “I am delighted to talk about the weather, if it means we can enjoy your hospitality.”
Eunice sent Violet a grateful smile.
“Of course, I agree with my sister wholeheartedly,” Sir Giles said. “But any rumor circulating about the lessons would only serve to compliment you, Miss Norwood. I am sure that anyone who notices an improvement in Cecil would have to attribute such a development to something—or someone.” His eyes twinkled. “So tell me, if I were to spill my cup of tea now, would you give me lessons as well?”
Aunt May laughed too loudly and added, “Such a drastic action is hardly necessary.”
“And I seriously doubt you need any lessons,” Eunice said.
“And Giles,” Violet said, “I seriously doubt that Miss Norwood harbors a secret desire to run an etiquette school for wayward lords.”
Lord Giles laughed. “I suppose not. But really, Miss Norwood, do you think anyone can help someone as hopeless as Cecil?”
“He is not hopeless.”
“Oh?” Giles took an exaggerated swallow of tea.
“No one is,” Eunice replied.
“So you say. But if you will allow me to say so, I believe your time would be much better spent in more refined company.”
Eunice could see that Sir Giles referred to himself. Did he mean to hint that he hoped to see more of her? She decided to try diplomacy mixed with a touch of humor. “I believe I am doing as you suggest at this very moment, Lord Giles.”
“And we would be delighted to see more of you,” Aunt May hastened to add, “along with you, Lady Violet, of course.”
“Of course.” Lady Violet rose from her seat, and her brother rose as well. “Regrettably, we must be leaving. Our visit with you, Lady May and Miss Norwood, has been our pleasure.”
“I could not agree more.” Lord Giles extended his hand and brushed his lips against her aunt’s wrist for an instant. He then bowed and placed his lips on Eunice’s wrist, lingering a touch longer than necessary for an old friend. The gesture reminded her of the embellished manners of Lord Milton. For no apparent reason, she felt uncomfortable enough to withdraw her hand as quickly as etiquette allowed without portraying rudeness. As they departed, Lord Giles looked back at her once more, then, obviously embarrassed at being caught, turned away just as quickly when their eyes met.
Funny, meeting Lord Giles’s gaze didn’t give her the same sweet tingle that she felt whenever she swam in the blue of Cecil’s eyes.
The brother and sister hadn’t been gone but a moment when Aunt May nearly jumped up and down, clapping with joy. “I do believe we can invite them to our dinner. How delightful!” She nudged Eunice. “Lord Giles has taken a liking to you, you know.”
“Don’t be silly, Auntie.” Nevertheless, she felt heat rise to her face.
“Silly, indeed. I may be old, but I remember being a young woman. He intends to ask my permission to c
ourt you. I can see it in his face.”
“Oh, really, Auntie. He was just putting on an agreeable expression since theirs was a social call.”
“Of course he was. But I could read the light in his eyes and the attention he paid to you. Each time you spoke, he couldn’t stop looking at you or listening with more intent than most men would pay to their solicitors.”
Eunice chuckled. “I hope I do possess more appeal than a solicitor.”
“Indeed you do, and the local gentlemen are starting to notice.” Aunt May let out a sigh and looked about the room. “Before I know it, you’ll be marrying and moving to another estate. I shall spend the rest of my days alone here in this old house.”
“Oh, I would never let you live alone, Auntie. I love you too much.”
Aunt May’s eyes misted. She took Eunice’s young hand in her wrinkled one and squeezed it. “Lord Giles has much to offer—a good family name, land holdings, wealth. . . .”
“I know. But I already have those things.”
“Yes, which means that such a match would increase your influence and assure your future progeny a bright future. How could any woman not notice he is handsome? And,” Aunt May pointed out, “unencumbered.”
Eunice didn’t have to ask Aunt May to elaborate. Clearly she referred to Cecil and his plans to become engaged to Olivia once the year had passed. Were her feelings for Cecil so transparent? She felt blood rise to her cheeks at the thought.
“Lord Giles would make you happy. I’m sure of it. He would be an excellent match for you. An excellent match, indeed.”
Seven
The following Sunday, the servants didn’t awaken Cecil early. They had no reason to bother. Worn out on Saturday evening from a day of hunting with Tedric, by the time he retired, he had yet to decide if he would attend worship services the following day. He decided not to leave instructions to awaken him at all.
So when he awoke on his own early enough to attend, a mixture of surprise, happiness, and dread filled his being. He realized that fear played a part, too. Cecil hadn’t set foot in any church—either in the country or in London—in more than a decade. Though he would rather be struck by lightning than admit his feelings to anyone, the thought of returning to church sent his stomach into a frenzy of somersaults.
Remaining in bed, he picked up the silver bell on the nightstand and rang it to summon Luke.
His faithful valet responded quickly to the bell. Cecil was a bit taken aback to see Luke dressed in a suit as fine as any servant could expect to afford. He sat up in bed. “Where are you going, Luke?”
Luke looked at Cecil as though he had taken leave of his senses. “Why, to church, milord.”
He hesitated. “Yes. But of course.”
What was he thinking? Naturally, the servants attended church services. Tedric would never deny his staff the privilege. Cecil supposed his servants in London worshiped on Sunday mornings as well. How would he know one way or the other? Exhausted from the previous evening’s festivities, he often slept until the noon hour on the Sabbath.
He lifted his voice with pride. “So am I.”
“You are what, milord?”
“I will be attending church this morning.” To prove he was serious, he rose.
Luke gasped. “You are, milord?”
“Yes. Is that really such a surprise?”
“If I may be permitted to say so, milord. But a happy one, indeed.”
Cecil chuckled. “You are permitted. Now then, I need you to help me find my prayer book.” Cecil didn’t want to confess that he hadn’t bothered to keep track of the book he would need to participate in worship services. He hadn’t looked at it since he became a confirmed member of the Church of England as a young adult, a commitment expected of him by his community, his family, and God.
“I think your prayer book may be in the library, milord.”
“A very good deduction,” Cecil said. “Fetch me the book and my suit and have breakfast brought up.”
“Yes, milord. If I may say so, we will have to hurry if we hope to arrive at the church before the service begins.”
“Noted. But a man must eat.”
“Indeed, milord.” He bowed and hurried to complete his errands.
Later, Cecil enjoyed the hearty breakfast of sausage and eggs brought up to his room, but then hurried out in hopes of catching up with Tedric’s carriage. Unsuccessful, he followed them on his own horse. He couldn’t remember the last time he had risen so early on Sunday. As he rode along, the day seemed somehow more peaceful than all the rest.
Soon he entered the sanctuary. The Savior’s house appeared smaller than he remembered. When he had served as an altar boy all those years ago, the aisle seemed long as he carried the cross. The altar, fashioned of carved dark wood, was much as he remembered. The stained-glass windows were the same. He presumed the sturdy, colorful pictures of brave and worthy Christians and of Christ Himself would survive long after his own death. He clutched the prayer book more tightly and searched for the Sutton family pew, the front one on the left.
He was just about to approach the pew when he heard gasps and whispers. To his horror, everyone in church had turned to stare at him. Some turned away when he returned their stares. Others muttered comments to their fellow worshipers. Mouths dropped open and eyes widened. Did everyone feel the need to react to his return?
He set his gaze on his brother and sister-in-law. Cecil could see from their tight lips and eyes that Tedric and Abigail were doing everything within their power not to express their shock and delight. Tedric sent him a short nod to indicate that he was welcome to sit by them. But since the Sutton family pew was located in the front near the pulpit, Cecil thought better than to join them. He was already the topic of gossip; there was no need to fuel the fire by sitting in such a prominent place.
Eager to get away from the congregation’s curious wonderment, he looked for Eunice. He spotted her and her aunt occupying a pew near the back of the sanctuary. Eunice’s expression looked friendly and open and conveyed considerably less surprise than anyone else’s. No wonder. Eunice was now the person who knew him best—even better than his own family.
He took a few steps toward them, then stopped short. Sharing private lessons in etiquette was one matter, but one’s public appearance was quite another. Would a lady as devout as Eunice spurn him in front of everyone in church? Would she forbid him, a cad, to sit beside her in the Savior’s house? The kind look on her face didn’t diminish one iota, but he still wasn’t sure. Nevertheless, he drew up the courage to walk over toward her pew.
He bent toward her so that he could be heard by Eunice alone. “Good morning, Miss Norwood. May I have the honor of sharing your pew?”
“But of course.” Her lack of hesitation surprised and pleased him.
“Thank you for your indulgence.” He took his seat on the end of the row, then nodded toward her aunt and Brigadier General Tarkington, who sat beside Eunice. Unlike Eunice, they dropped their mouths in shock. Aunt May’s eyes seemed to hold a sympathetic cast, but the brigadier general sniffed and turned his head toward the pulpit.
Cecil didn’t flinch. No matter what the military man thought of him, he refused to acknowledge the snub. He cut a sideways glance toward Eunice and saw that her eyes lit with pleasure. Her opinion was what mattered. He withheld a satisfied smile.
His moment in pleasure was short-lived. Whispers fluttered throughout the church. Surely people were speculating about his unexpected presence at worship, Eunice’s willingness to allow him to sit beside her, or both. Cecil refused to stare at those whose heads snapped in his direction, then quickly turned away. He averted his eyes to his shoes, as though studying them would amend his guilt.
He was almost relieved when he felt a tap on his shoulder. The distraction was welcome. A friend who had summoned the courage to greet him with warmth, perhaps? He looked up and faced Giles.
“Do you mind moving over a bit, Cecil?” Giles’s expression was a
mixture of cockiness and curiosity.
Seeing that Giles didn’t want to greet him but rather to move in on his territory, Cecil tried not to look grumpy. “I would not mind in the least, except that, as you can plainly see, this pew is becoming crowded.”
“There is always room for one more.” Giles stepped forward, forcing Cecil to move lest he be sat upon. At least Cecil managed to hold on to his place beside Eunice, though he suspected this development disappointed Giles. Cecil cut his gaze to Eunice’s aunt and the brigadier general. They greeted Giles cordially, but he took pleasure in noting that Eunice was more reserved. Eunice sent Cecil a shy but approving look, a fact that pleased him even more.
Cecil kept himself anchored to the pew, his girth separating Eunice from Giles. Although worship services were hardly a conducive place to conduct a conversation of any sort, clearly Giles’s intent was to position himself—literally—where he could enjoy Eunice’s nearness. Cecil remembered the sly comments Giles had made about Eunice when he first discovered that she had returned to the country. He should have known then that Giles looked at Eunice with more than friendship on his mind.
And why shouldn’t he? Giles cut a dashing figure—more dashing than Cecil, though he would never admit the unfavorable comparison to anyone but himself. A man whose modest inheritance allowed him a comfortable living, Giles could give a woman a good name. Why shouldn’t he believe himself suitable for Eunice?
And Eunice herself! She would make any man an extraordinary wife. Her blond beauty meant that she didn’t need a fortune to attract suitors. Yet her uncle Eric’s fortune, house, and land holdings most likely surpassed the assets of at least half the genteel families in the parish.
Eric had been known for shrewd business practices. His lands were rented out for use by local farmers, who paid handsome rents. He had undertaken a keen study of animal husbandry and agriculture. His efforts paid off with abundant crops and hearty livestock. During more than one lean year, Eric was able to coax the land to yield a crop when others nearby failed. Yet the late earl also enjoyed a reputation of a kind man, one who was never cruel, dishonest, or merciless. Eric was the first to feed the needy, send local widows generous Christmas food baskets, and help neighbors in times of trouble. From all accounts, his reputation was well deserved.
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