Miss Davies spoke with a sweet calm so deep that it could only be her nature. There was nothing of affectation or practice in her gentle words to the baron.
Owen wondered what it might be like to be on the receiving end of such caring ministrations.
His mind yanked him back to the many dreary, miserable, often freezing nights he’d spent in his camp on foreign lands. He saw the several war wives who had followed their husbands to the front, moving about the camp and assisting all the soldiers—not just their own husbands—in any way they could.
They had made tea, fed soup, mended clothes, knitted scarves, bundled up cold and weary men in homespun blankets. But most importantly of all, they constantly whispered words of encouragement, kindness, comfort.
The women who followed their men to the field seemed to know or learned quickly enough that beneath the uniforms and tough exteriors and blood on their hands that soldiers were really just homesick men—many of them just boys barely starting in life, as Owen had been when he’d first joined.
Owen squeezed his eyes shut and returned to the library. Time seemed to have stopped while he was in his memories. But he saw the purpose of their recollection now.
The way Miss Davies looked at and spoke to Lord Neil was just the same as he had seen in those wives at the camps. He knew she would make an excellent, helpful companion if she were ever in such a situation.
Miss Davies had the fortitude and tenacity to meet challenges head on without losing the kindness of spirit that enabled her to go above and beyond for the people she loved.
Owen knew he would be a fool not to admit that such qualities made Miss Davies very admirable in his eyes.
But he quickly wiped the silly grin off his face that he only realized was there when Miss Davies turned around to rejoin him on their side of the fireplace.
“Lord Neil is in quite a state. He seems dazed half the time and painfully aware the other half,” Owen said lightly as Miss Davies settled back down and refilled her own cup of tea.
“Indeed,” she laughed quietly. “But he is hanging on. I am sure this experience is not easy for a husband—being shut out of the room not knowing whether his wife and child are alright, feeling helpless to take away her pain.”
She glanced back to the baron sympathetically. He had returned to his mostly one-sided conversation with Davies, preferring to listen to the lieutenant rattle on about his rudimentary opinions on crops and farming practices.
“Actually, if you don’t mind, Captain...” Miss Davies said quietly, a sudden nervous air overtaking her whole body. She set her cup down and toyed with the edge of her apron, avoiding Owen’s eyes.
“I could never mind anything you say,” Owen responded hurriedly.
Miss Davies looked up in surprise at his words.
Even just a few days ago Owen would have scolded himself for saying something so thoughtlessly forward. But he knew his ability to hide the thumping sensation that grew in his heart anytime he was near Miss Davies would not last much longer. Besides, what he said was true. Whatever was on Miss Davies’s mind, Owen would gladly hear it out. He wanted, needed to hear her.
“I hope you will still feel the same in a few moments,” she muttered with a blush. “You see, I’ve brought some of my poetry up with me. I thought I might read some to you to pass the time. If that sounds agreeable to you, of course.”
Miss Davies pulled a small book out of the front pocket of her apron, her fingertips running over the back cover. She could only peek up at him nervously, seeking his approval.
Owen could see that she was clearly very apprehensive about sharing her work but his heart soared to heights he had not thought possible. The silly grin returned to his face and this time he did not suppress it.
“I would absolutely love to hear whatever you feel comfortable sharing with me.”
Miss Davies smiled and let out the breath she’d been holding in anticipation. She opened the book, the same one Owen had seen her writing in when he and Davies had returned from their hunt that now seemed like a lifetime ago. Her fingers flipped through the pages at the corners, their soft rustling sounding like music to Owen.
He felt honored that she would share her intimate creative thoughts with him. Perhaps she too sensed that the distance between them shrank with each passing day. Though the act may have seemed small to anyone else, Owen knew that for Miss Davies, it was an admission of trust.
And Owen would do everything he could to honor that trust—starting with listening to her poetry.
As Miss Davies read one poem and then another and another, her voice rising and falling gently to produce a soothing melody, her words surprised Owen. He had had his suspicions that the maid undervalued her own skill and he had been proven right in these past few minutes.
But he had not been prepared for how truly beautiful her words were. They were wise and smart and eloquent. She crafted fresh and elegant phrases. But most importantly, her kind heart showed in each and every line.
Owen watched Miss Davies as she read without any fear of discovery. She was so engrossed in her words that she did not notice his stare. In truth, Owen did not think that being discovered would be such a terrible thing.
How could he look away when her face was bathed in soft firelight and glowed from within with her passion for her craft? How could he look away when her lovely eyes traced the page and changed subtly to reflect the mood of the verse, when the corners of her mouth twitched up in a small smile?
He did not even care that his host and Miss Davies’s brother sat just a few feet away. No doubt the lieutenant eyed Owen like a hawk and would jab him about the enamored expression on his face when he had the first opportunity.
None of that mattered to Owen right now. All that mattered was being here in this moment with Miss Davies, enjoying her poetry, and warming up to the possibilities he heard in her voice and her words. Possibilities that could change his future.
Chapter 11
The low heel on Violet’s shoes clicked harshly against the rough stone floor in the servants’ hall. She had been pacing for hours already. Though Mrs. Baird had told Violet that Lady Neil granted her a free morning for all her help during the night and the wee hours of the morning, Violet found that she would much rather be working.
Anything would be better than walking back and forth along the dining table in her anxiety to see for herself that her mistress and the baby were well.
“Goodness me, child, will you sit down?” Mrs. Baird chided from her own seat at the dining table. “The baby is perfectly healthy and beautiful and Her Ladyship is recovering splendidly. I am sure they will introduce you soon.”
The housekeeper sighed, her head drooping wearily. She had been up with Lady Neil and Dr. Slaterly all night and had only snatched a few hours of sleep before the servants began their normal duties. Mrs. Baird had been given the whole day off but she, like Violet, did not do well with idle time. Violet simply clicked her tongue at the minor hypocrisy and continued her repetitive journey through the servants’ hall.
The air in the house buzzed with excitement. For many of the staff at Gatherford Park, this was their first experience welcoming a baby into the family. And for those who had been around when Lord Neil had been born, the child was a welcome guarantee that the Neil family would have an heir and carry on for another generation. After all, the older staff had long since resigned themselves to the possibility that Lord Neil would never marry or father any children and the fate of their home and livelihoods would be left in the air.
But then Miss Cecilia Richards had come along and became Lady Neil. The house had been filled with a fresh joy ever since and it positively burst at the seams today with news of Gatherford Park’s newest resident.
Only Violet felt that she could not share in the excitement until she had seen her mistress and the littlest Neil. And she felt out of sorts not attending to Lady Neil at this hour. To give herself something to do, and to revitalize Mrs. Baird’s energ
y a tad, Violet set about to brewing a pot of tea.
“Violet, there’s no need to do that. I am perfectly well. I just cannot sleep when I hear the noise of the house and know that I should be ensuring everything is right.” Mrs. Baird had of course read Violet’s mind and knew the tea was meant for her.
“Please let me do something, Mrs. Baird. If my mind cannot rest, then my body cannot rest.”
“But your mind should rest, my dear. As I keep telling you, everyone is happy and healthy and there is nothing for your mind to fret over.”
“That is far easier said than done. You should know that for yourself. If you’ve been given the day off, then there must be nothing for you to attend to down here and you should sleep easily. Am I not correct?” Violet shot a teasing smirk over to Mrs. Baird as the pot began to whistle and she readied the housekeeper’s cup with a smidge of sugar and milk, just as she knew she liked it.
Mrs. Baird shook her head with a defeated smile. “You and I are far too alike to get either of us anywhere, it seems.”
Violet set the cup down before Mrs. Baird and sat next to her. If Violet could not satisfy Mrs. Baird’s request in mind, she could at least satisfy it in body.
Violet had not been in her chair for more than a few seconds when Andrew, one of the younger footmen, entered the servants’ area and planted himself before Violet and Mrs. Baird.
“Mrs. Baird, Miss Davies, Her Ladyship has requested your presence in the sitting room in the family wing,” he stated with much solemnity.
Violet could not stop herself from jumping up immediately and rushing out of the servants’ hall, throwing a “thank you” to Andrew over her shoulder. She heard Mrs. Baird follow behind, laughing at the scene.
Finally at the door to the family’s private sitting room, just a few doors down the hall from Lady Neil’s chambers, Violet paused and composed herself. She took a few deep breaths as Mrs. Baird caught up to her. The housekeeper quietly opened the door and they stepped through together.
Domestic bliss. That was the picture that greeted Violet when they entered the sitting room. Lady Neil sat in a chair by the fire with a bundle of blankets in her arms and Lord Neil stood just behind her, leaning over her shoulder to peer at their baby. They both cooed and smiled and Lady Neil traced her finger down the little one’s cheek.
They both looked very tired but very happy. They were already so in love with their child. A bittersweet feeling pinched at Violet’s stomach as she watched the happy family, lost in their own world.
Of course she was incredibly happy for her master and mistress. She knew they had been eager to start a family since the moment they said their vows. And now their dream had come true.
But Violet knew that such a dream was out of reach for her. She would never be part of such a loving family moment except as a bystander. She hadn’t even been part of a loving family moment at her own birth. Her father and brothers had been too busy planning her mother’s funeral and too full of resentment to spare much time for coos and smiles at baby Violet.
Mrs. Baird coughed by Violet’s side, breaking everyone of their reveries. The new parents finally looked up and noticed their visitors. Lady Neil gave a weary but joyful smile and waved them over with her free hand.
Suddenly nervous, Violet approached with Mrs. Baird. Just as she had been terribly ignorant of pregnancy and labor and childbirth, Violet realized that she had almost no knowledge of babies. The closer she got the better she saw how small and fragile this brand-new life was.
“Isn’t he beautiful?” Lady Neil asked as the two women gathered around her, but her tone conveyed a statement rather than a question. She smiled down into her son’s peaceful face, her eyes glittering with the immensity of her love.
“Her certainly is, my lady. Congratulations.” Violet’s voice caught in her throat slightly and she realized a surge of emotion threatened to carry her away.
She hadn’t had an opportunity to see a baby this close before. It amazed her that he looked so real yet so doll-like at the same time. His features were still as he slept contentedly in his mother’s arms, as if he would never want for a better cradle. He looked like a perfect mixture of his parents.
In an instant Violet felt that she could see just how her little master would look as he grew up, all wide blue eyes and dark windswept hair and smiles. The power of her feelings over someone else’s child surprised her. She could only wonder how she might feel if the child were her own.
But Violet did not have time to chastise herself for such a useless thought. Lady Neil’s voice interrupted her, asking if she wished to hold the baby. Violet also did not have time to come to her senses long enough to refuse. Before she knew it, the babe had been placed in her arms.
“M-My lady, I’m not sur—” Violet stammered as she felt the tiny body squirm.
“You’re doing just fine, Violet,” Lady Neil assured her. “Just be sure to support his head. You can give him a little bounce, too, if you’d like.”
Violet swallowed her nerves and looked upon the little face. He seemed to settle into her arms after a moment and she breathed a sigh of relief and then a sigh of wonderment as he opened his mouth in a big yawn. Violet chuckled. She supposed he’d had a long night as well.
She tried Lady Neil’s suggestion and bent her knees a few times to create a slight bouncing motion. The baby seemed to enjoy this as he burrowed himself deeper into his blanket and gripped the fabric in his impossibly small hand.
As Violet found a rhythm in the motion, the door opened once more. She looked up to see Frank limp in with his crutch, the captain right behind him.
Violet’s eyes instantly found Captain Jessup’s and she realized she must look very out of place holding this baby. But the captain did not seem to think so. He watched her with warmth in his eyes and a lovely smile on his lips.
“Captain Jessup, Lieutenant Davies,” Lord Neil called as the two men walked toward their small gathering. “It is my pleasure to introduce to you my son, The Honorable Joseph Neil.”
The pride in Lord Neil’s voice hummed in every word he said. Violet glanced over her shoulder at the baron to see the brightest smile she had ever seen grace his normally stoic face. He looked nearly giddy with love and joy.
“A charming little chap!” Frank announced as he peered down at the bundle still in Violet’s arms.
“Gentlemen, I would so very much like to thank you both for everything you did to help myself and His Lordship last night—or should I say this morning. Lieutenant, thank you for keeping my poor husband company and giving him strength to get through the ordeal. Captain, thank you for rushing out in the storm to bring Dr. Slaterly. I hate to think what would have happened to you if you’d been hurt on my behalf. But you played a large part in helping our little boy come into the world safely and soundly.”
Lady Neil’s voice trembled and her eyes watered as she looked up at the two men from her seat, too weary and pained to stand and make a proper curtsey but no one in the room could fault her for it.
“I was happy to do it, my lady,” Frank announced cheerfully as he bowed his head to his hostess.
“There is no need to thank me.” Captain Jessup coughed slightly. “It was the right thing to do, and I make it a habit to do what is right.”
Lady Neil frowned at this slightly. “You are too humble for your own good at times, Captain.”
Frank scoffed. “Not when you have to share a tent with him, my lady.”
Lord Neil threw his head back and let out a deep laugh, shocking them all. Everyone except for tiny Master Neil who slept through the ripple of laughter that engulfed the group for a few moments.
“My, my, Violet,” Mrs. Baird said as she caught her breath. “You do look so very natural with that wee one in your arms.” She gave a small smile to Violet and Violet suspected that she was the only one who could read Mrs. Baird’s intended meaning in it.
Nevertheless, she blushed fiercely at the unusual comment and its equally unc
omfortable timing. Surely Mrs. Baird could have paid this compliment before the men entered the room, or when she and Violet were alone in the servants’ hall later.
“It is only because I feel so attached to Master Neil already,” Violet mumbled, keeping her eyes trained on the baby’s sweet face.
“Violet, why don’t you give Joseph to Captain Jessup for a moment,” Lady Neil suggested. Violet noticed the slightly smug expression on her mistress’s face.
She blushed again but complied with the command. The captain’s eyebrows shot up in surprise but he moved closer to Violet to make the exchange. He also seemed caught off guard at having a baby thrust into his arms.
Captain Jessup made a circle with his arms and Violet angled herself as best she could to shift Master Neil over to the captain. Their arms brushed against each other, the fabric of his coat and her black dress rustling as they struggled to transfer the baby safely.
She hoped desperately that Captain Jessup could not feel the heat radiating from her as her heart raced from the contact, from the wide smile stretched across his face as he took the baby, from the quiet laugh he gave at their awkward attempts to maneuver the tiny creature.
Violet took a step back and took in the captain with the child in his arms. She had heard of women swooning before but had never experienced it for herself. Violet realized that this feeling in her chest that made her lightheaded must be something similar.
The captain looked up from the baby to Violet, the inner corner of his brows tilting up with a silent question. Violet laughed behind her hand and gave an encouraging nod. Captain Jessup let out the breath he’d been holding once Violet had silently assured him that he did well.
Master Neil began to wiggle and whimper after a moment in Captain Jessup’s arms but the man would not be deterred now that he’d secured this precious parcel.
Healing the Captain's Heart: A Clean Regency Romance (Resolved In Love Book 2) Page 13