Once they were in the hall, Adam took in her appearance again. “Miss Chapple,” he said slowly, “what are you wearing?”
Enough light streamed through a window at the end of the corridor for him to see her blush and watch her few freckles disappear within it. Yet she lifted her head and spoke clearly.
“This is one of the gowns I wore as a seamstress. It is practical for working, and as I have not yet had my wardrobe created, it is the most suitable thing to wear when I am at home.”
“Practical,” he repeated, clasping his hands behind his back. “Are you always practical, Miss Chapple? And economical? And kind? And trusting?” He did not mean for the last two words to come out as accusing as they did.
Her strawberry-colored eyebrows lifted. “I certainly strive to be all of those things. Do you?”
Adam cleared his throat. “Of course.” Then he tried to reorder his thoughts.
The color had faded from her cheeks, and she looked rather like a saint instead of a nun; her ivory skin, the unconventionally lovely face, and big gray eyes stared up at him with patience.
“There is something important I must tell you.”
She brushed a loose spiral of hair back behind her ear. “Then you had better get it out, Mr. Gillensford.”
Why had he thought this a good idea? Would it cement her trust in him, to know he revealed his own family’s plots? “My brother, the earl, he is in London speaking to his solicitor. He means to see if he can have the will changed, to disinherit you.”
Miss Chapple’s whole frame stiffened, and she took a step back. “Changing the will? I did not know it could be contested. Mr. Tuttle-Kirk made it sound as though it was unquestionable.”
“I am certain Mr. Tuttle-Kirk is right.” At least Adam could give her some hope on that score. “My uncle knew many high-ranking individuals, through his investments and business dealings. I am certain the witnesses to the document will prove strong and impervious to anything my brother might say. But you must be warned, Miss Chapple. My family does not welcome you to the neighborhood.”
She raised a shaking hand to her throat while the other arm wrapped around her middle. “They are the most important family in the neighborhood. Perhaps the county. You made me think—that is, I assumed because of your actions that I was not despised.” She had lost all color in her lovely face. Her eyes went wider as she looked up at him. “What of you? Do you wish me gone, too?”
He wished quite the opposite. As he stood there, watching the despair wash over her, Adam had the strongest urge to gather her up in his arms and give her shelter. He would protect her from any who would harm her and hold her as long as she wished him to. The strength of that desire alarmed him, and he forced himself to turn away.
There was no use in letting her see whatever madness had overtaken him.
Clearing his throat, he answered her question steadily. “I wish you nowhere but here, at Tertium. My uncle chose you as his heir, and he never did anything without exercising the utmost care and thought. You belong here, Miss Chapple.” Clenching and unclenching his fists at his side, Adam vowed silently that he would do everything in his limited power to keep her there. For the sake of his inheritance, of course.
Her skirts came into view as she stepped closer, and then her ungloved hand touched his wrist. Her fingertips barely brushed his skin, but he felt as though he had received an electric shock. Without thinking, he turned his hand and grasped hers.
She did not withdraw, but stayed there, quite close. “Thank you for telling me, Mr. Gillensford.”
“You ought to throw me out,” he said, running his thumb across her wrist and still avoiding eye contact. Her wrist was slight, delicate, in his hand. “I felt certain you would.”
“I still might.”
That brought his eyes up quickly, only to see how close she stood to him. She was regarding him with a somewhat speculative look.
Adam spoke, weighing his words with his sincerity. “I will go, if you wish it.” Her hand was soft, yet he could feel her fingertips against his palm, calloused. Did sewing with needle and thread give a woman callouses? Why had he never noticed before? Most women embroidered.
But she had lived her life by needle and thread.
She gave him a narrow-eyed, somewhat exasperated smile. “Adam, if you went, how would I ever know what to do about your family? You have given the warning, but no solutions.”
Did she realize she had used his Christian name? He squeezed her hand gently, warmth from that contact filling him enough that he could smile again. “I am afraid I am still trying to think of solutions. My mother will return to Orford before the end of the Season in London. That does not give you much time to prepare for battle.”
“No.” Her eyebrows furrowed, and a little wrinkle appeared between them. “That is not very much time at all.”
He sighed and released her hand. As much as he enjoyed the touch, the intimacy should never have happened. “My sister will be an ally, but as she is young and unmarried, not much of one. I think she will like you, though.”
“Then I cannot wait to meet her.” Miss Chapple folded her hands together before her and looked back to the parlor door. “I need to return to work on Nancy’s dress. Could we discuss this later? Perhaps this afternoon? I will write to Mr. Tuttle-Kirk about the will. I am not certain what to do about everything else.”
“I will think on it and discuss things with you at three o’clock,” Adam promised, hearing the eagerness in his own voice. She had not banished him. The chance of obtaining his inheritance remained. “Not everyone cares for my family. The Gillensfords are well-known for snobbery. If we can counter their influence—well. We will discuss it later.” He bowed. “Until three o’clock?”
“Until then. Thank you, Mr. Gillensford.” She curtsied, and then stood at the top of the steps as he went down. He glanced back once and she lifted her hand in a silent farewell, standing in a shaft of sunlight. Had another woman ever appeared so lovely to him before?
Adam left hastily after that thought, retiring to the steward’s office with his heart pounding in a most accusing manner.
Chapter 9
Sewing a straight seam was one of the easiest things in the world. Elaine could practically piece together a gown in her sleep. Her abilities served her well that morning and into the afternoon, as her mind most certainly strayed from the task at hand. Mrs. Fowler showed even greater skill, her needle flying in and out of the cloth at twice the speed Elaine worked.
“I’m taking everything back with me,” Mrs. Fowler insisted when Elaine excused Nancy back to the nursery. “I have a few friends in the village who will happily help and appreciate the pay. You have other things to see to, Miss Chapple.”
Though the statement was true enough, Elaine hated to let go of the familiar work of needle and thread. She gave in, however, and called for the carriage to deliver Mrs. Fowler and every piece of cloth and spool of thread necessary to her shop in Orford proper.
“Thank you. I am grateful for your skilled hands,” she told the tradeswoman at the front door.
“You’re a fine seamstress yourself, miss.” The older woman pursed her lips before speaking the rest of her thoughts. “It isn’t my place, miss, but I did see how you were after Mr. Gillensford left. I hope whatever trouble has come your way is not too dire.”
Elaine smiled her thanks. “All will be well. I will see you in a few days.”
Mrs. Fowler took her leave, head held high, certain of her place in the world. Elaine envied her that certainty. Despite all the good fortune that had come to Elaine, she could not help but carry a burden of discouragement with her as she ascended the stairs to the music room.
Adam’s warning regarding his family had left her in a difficult state. Oh, she meant what she said when she allowed him to stay. She needed his help, and he seemed eager to give it even if it might cause a rift between himself and his family.
She supposed she understood them. From the ea
rl and his mother’s perspective, Elaine had invaded and taken what they thought to be theirs.
However, her imagination failed to determine what the late Mr. Gillensford had been thinking, placing her in such difficult circumstances.
Elaine opened the door and stared at the beautiful pianoforte, longing to forget her troubles and play upon its keys. She contented herself with entering the room and pacing, instead. She walked from the instrument to the door and back again. Her thoughts twisted and tangled, like thread unwound and gathered up in a heap.
What was she to do? This world of middle-class manners, too new to her, offered few solutions. She had her education to fall back on, to an extent, but lessons on drawing room etiquette and French did little to help in this situation. If the earl and dowager countess took against her, would the community follow blindly along? She had not had time to make an impression upon many, to win any favor for her own sake.
If Adam was wrong, and if his brother overturned the will, what would happen to her? She had no place to go anymore. Her shop in Ipswich was empty, or else leased to another, and most of her household belongings given away. She had nothing to fall back upon, no security of any kind, if she lost the inheritance.
Elaine went to the window, looking out over the beautiful gardens. The roses had begun to bloom, though tight buds still dominated the bushes. They likely smelled heavenly.
They were her roses. For the time being.
The thought made her smile. She ought to enjoy the blooms while she could. Taking up that idea, Elaine went out of the room at once and downstairs. Gathering up her shawl, she found her gloves in the hall table drawer, and then went to the conservatory. Half the ceiling in that room was made of glass, and the whole of it filled with potted plants and streaming fountains. The lovely room surely remained so year-round. But it contained no roses.
There were doors that opened into the garden, releasing her into the fresh air. The clouds had not burst that morning, as she’d expected, though they still hung overhead. Still, the gloomy sky could not stop her from appreciating the fragrance of the flowers all around her.
Taking her time, Elaine stopped at each bush to inspect the growing blooms. Pink and white roses dominated the carefully cultivated gardens, and she followed the walkway all the way to a large hedge. There she found a gate of slatted wood, which she pushed open. With each step she took, Elaine claimed a little more of the estate for herself in her heart.
An entire meadow opened up before her, bursting with flowers and butterflies. Elaine stood, aghast at the wild beauty of it. The gravel path of the garden turned into one of sand and dirt, twisting and turning through the grasses and wildflowers.
The gate separated two very distinctive sorts of beauty. The garden conformed to the hands of the gardener; the meadow grew as nature intended.
Thunder rolled in the distance, foretelling a storm. Elaine reluctantly stepped back, closing the gate before her. Exploring the meadow was out of the question. Her troubles had gone nowhere, and the responsibility to solve them rested on her shoulders.
Adam would help. He promised he would. He had helped all along. What made him different from his family? The thought puzzled her, and as only Adam could answer such a personal question she put it from her mind.
She entered the conservatory in time for another roll of thunder to sound, much nearer than the last. Elaine removed her gloves, pleased she had remembered to wear them, only to recall she ought to have put on her bonnet, too. It seemed strange to have to go about as though she were visiting another just to step into her own garden.
Mrs. Harper’s School for Young Ladies had drilled that into her the way the army drilled marching into soldiers. A lady never went out of doors without covering hands and head.
“Some lady I make,” she muttered to herself, sitting on one of the conservatory benches. She brushed at her dress, though it was clean, wishing it was not quite so practical.
Adam had noticed her dress, had asked about it with ill-concealed surprise that she would wear such a gown. He had seen her wear her other two dresses already. Would it have been more shocking to wear the same gown twice in two days?
She would have to choose one of them to wear to Sunday services the next day. Even then, Elaine doubted she would look as though she was an heiress.
“Miss Chapple?” a voice called into the room. It was Graham.
“I am here, Graham,” she answered, pulling her shawl more tightly about her shoulders.
“Ah, we have found her.” Adam. It must be three o’clock. She heard his step and a moment later he stepped around a large potted fern on a pedestal. “There you are.” He came toward her, a charming smile curling his lips upward even though his eyes appeared tired.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Gillensford.” Elaine rose to greet him. “I wonder if your deliberations have been any more helpful than my own.”
“Straight to the point, I see. This must be that practical side of you again.” Adam chuckled and gestured for her to sit. “I have had a few thoughts on the matter, but I cannot promise any of them are brilliant.”
“As all of mine are quite dull, yours will be brilliant by comparison.” She folded her hands in her lap, then remembered her gloves and started to tug them off. “Do go on, sir.”
Adam appeared to study her hands, his head tilted to one side, as he spoke. “The first thing that came to mind for this battle is a strategic retreat. You could take the children to London, lease a fine townhouse, and work on your reputation there first. You would have access to all the best shops, tutors, and entertainments.” He lifted his eyes to hers, though his head remained ducked down.
“I am not certain that would solve anything. I know no one in London, and I understand the rules of society are even more strict there. If Tertium Park is to be my home, I feel I must stand my ground.” Elaine moved to one side of the bench and nodded her head to the other, inviting him to sit. “There is no retreat for me.”
He walked slowly to the bench and stared down at her; his expression suddenly pained. “I cannot understand why you are treating me the same as before. My family’s wretchedness must have offended you.”
The sudden change in subject startled her somewhat. Elaine shook her head slowly. “How could I be offended? You have told me the truth, even though it reflects poorly upon your family.”
Adam lowered himself to the bench beside her, leaving a hand’s width of space between them. “I hope you know—that is, I hope I might show you that I am your friend in all of this.”
“Are we friends?” she asked, then immediately bit her tongue. The question was not precisely rude, but it certainly illustrated her hopes on that account.
A dry, humorless laugh escaped him. “Perhaps we can discuss that matter another time. I had another idea for you.” He reached into his coat and pulled out a slip of paper. He held it out in such a way that she could take it without so much as brushing a finger against his. “This is a list of every important person in the community. If they are close to my family, I put a dash next to their name.”
She took the paper and unfolded it. There were twenty names on the list. Less than half had dashes. “This could be helpful.”
“I suggest you get to know the people who will not immediately choose my brother over you.” He sighed and pushed his hand through his hair, leaving it to stick up in slightly odd angles she tried not to stare at overly long. “I can provide introductions to all of them. Perhaps you could even host a dinner, or a ball, or something. Invite these families and make a good impression.”
“Or make a terrible impression,” she said, lowering the paper to her lap. “I have not danced since I was in school. That was nearly ten years ago. I think I could eat dinner without making many mistakes, but I haven’t any idea what subjects to converse upon. That would hardly be impressive.”
“It might not be too difficult, but perhaps something less formal would be best.” He rubbed his empty palms against his knees.
“I did think of one other thing.” He averted his eyes to the ground, his lips pressed together tightly.
Elaine waited for several seconds before prompting him. “What other thing, Mr. Gillensford?”
“The chief points against you,” he said, “other than your background, are that you are an unmarried woman running an estate, and that you are raising two children not your own. There will be gossip about that, and judgment. But there is a way to protect against it.” He looked up at her, down again, then met her eyes more steadily. “If you married—”
She dropped the paper into her lap and raised her hand in the air to halt his words. “We have discussed this. Marriage is out of the question. The children are too important—”
“That is what marriage contracts are for,” he said, angling his body to face her. “You can stipulate everything for the children in a contract. Their allowances, funds for their educations, Nancy’s dowry. You must make it legally binding, so anyone who married you would know precisely what they could not touch.”
“But what of everything they could do? This new life I have, it would not be mine anymore.” Elaine started shaking her head, lowering her hand back to her lap. Relying on someone else to see to her business, to handle her home and her life, did not sit well with her. “And you speak as though this is an easy solution. I do not know any gentleman, Adam. And even if I met one tomorrow, I could hardly convince him to wed me before your family returns from London. What good would it do—”
Adam reached a hand out to cover hers, the warmth of his palm comforting even if it made her stomach flutter. “Elaine.” He spoke her Christian name with such gentleness, and reassurance. “I understand your concerns. However, a husband’s name would offer you protection, even before a wedding. We could find someone. I know any number of honorable men, and I could invite them here to meet you.”
She leaned a little closer to him, fixing him with her most practical stare. “Do you realize how ridiculous that sounds? What would the invitation say? ‘Dear Sir, please come to Orford at your earliest convenience to apply for the position of husband to a former seamstress.’” She leaned back, withdrawing her hand from his gently.
His Unexpected Heiress: Entangled Inheritances Page 9