Something he’d said just a bit ago played in her mind. She thought to tell him, “You probably know this already, and firsthand as well, but I always liked how your father talked of your mother. He cherished her, didn’t he?”
She’d surprised him, she gathered from his next expression, a light frown. He looked at her thoughtfully for a moment.
“He spoke to you of the countess?”
Emma nodded, unsure how she should—or if she should—proceed.
“He spoke of you, as well, always with boundless pride.”
Zachary seemed still thoughtful. After a moment, having only stared at Bethany in that time, he lifted his dark eyes to Emma. “I wish I had spent more time with him these last few years. I miss him.”
“I do, too.” She thought it must seem odd to him, to hear her say that. “I know you haven’t any siblings,” Emma continued, “But you do have family, very dear cousins, if I remember....Your father told me of his sister, Augusta, and her charming children—Edith and Giles?” She thought she recalled correctly, and knew she had when Zachary rolled his eyes at the mention of their names. “Hmm, not so charming?” She teased, and then sympathized with him, “How awful to have grown up with such disreputable cousins! And always blaming you for the troubles they gotten themselves into!”
Zachary’s head tilted curiously at this last statement. “Father knew?”
“That it was rarely—if ever—your fault? Yes, he said it was a favor to you to have you punished instead of them. First, by sending you off as punishment, it took you away from your cousins, which is what you wanted anyway. And too, he thought you strong enough to handle the censure of any family or staff who might have witnessed your reprimand. Made you a better man, he said,” she delivered this last part slowly, the words sinking in to her just now. When Michael had ever talked of his son, she’d been able to truly put no face to him, and the anecdotes and tales had lesser meaning. Now, knowing his son, all Michael’s stories took on new significance. Her lips tilted upward, rather thoughtfully, thinking of this insight she was afforded, even as it contradicted so much of what the earl had shown to her, today’s delightfulness aside.
After a moment she lifted her eyes to Zachary to find him watching her attentively.
“I’m looking forward to hearing more stories Father may have shared with you,” he said, his brow knitted slightly. He wiped a napkin rather distractedly across his mouth and returned the linen to his lap.
Emma lowered her head, pretending a notable interest in her food, having no idea how to interpret so negligent a remark. It hinted at future meetings between them, causing her to wonder how much of his attention was merely him keeping a fair eye on her as the recipient of his father’s boon. Or was keeping company with her merely a by-product of visiting with Bethany, whom Emma was quite sure he still believed might be his half-sister?
Whatever the case, whatever the reasons behind his suddenly affable attention, Emma knew it would behoove her to keep their relationship on a neutral, unthreatening level. He was, after all, a man, and as Mama Smythe had reminded her on many occasions throughout her life, some men just thought the entire world and everything in it was theirs for the taking. Lady Marston’s speech to her had lent credence to Mrs. Smythes words. The earl’s kisses offered further proof that there was some merit to the caution issued by both women.
With this in mind, she searched for a suitable and impersonal topic of discussion, and thought to ask him about the current session in parliament over the last week, but he surprised her by asking instead, “What was your sister like?”
A very personal topic indeed, but one that Emma was happy to talk about.
She smiled prettily. “She was wonderful. Honest to goodness, you’d have thought she swallowed sunshine, she was so cheery. We looked nothing alike, Gretchen being this willowy and perfect blonde-haired beauty. She was just so...brave. Nothing frightened her.” She fed several more spoonfuls of stew to Bethany, and thought aloud, “She wasn’t overly alarmed by her predicament, being unwed, and already responsible for me. We played games to help her decide upon a name. She spent her free time knitting and making little baby clothes. And it slowed her down not at all—she worked just as hard right up until...this little darling arrived.” A bittersweet smile came, watching Bethany chew her stew while using her chubby little forefinger to touch the buttons on the earl’s coat sleeve.
Her eyes moved from Bethany’s tiny hand to his, over his long fingers, over that sparse showing of dark hair at the top of his wrist before the sleeve showed no more of his arm. She let her gaze wander further, up his forearm and along the line of his bicep, the size of it pronounced by the sleeve of his perfectly fitted jacket, and across one wide shoulder to his face, to find his dark eyes upon her. Her perusal had been slow, and as he had apparently been watching her, Emma blushed and attended the stew once again.
“How is your duck?” She wondered, after a moment, and when the silence only seemed awkward because she knew his gaze was still settled upon her. She lifted expressive eyes, raising a brow for his response.
And found his gaze now attentively set upon her lips.
“Delicious,” he said.
Emma blinked.
Thankfully, the kitchen girl returned to break the spell and dismiss whatever Emma might have made of his possibly nuanced reply. The server inquired of the earl if everything was too his liking. He assured her it was so, and she departed, inciting a bewildered laugh from Emma, as the lovely Molly had not bothered to ask if her meal, too, was acceptable.
Possibly grasping Emma’s response, the earl granted, “She’s working the purse holder, I imagine.” But even he grinned at the girl’s very obvious conduct.
“And quite adeptly, I should say.”
Henry arrived rather early the next morning with his gig and began to give Emma quite a history of Perry Green, which Emma politely listened to, until she feared she must interrupt to mention that they needed to change direction, as the local village was actually not her destination today.
“Henry, I really haven’t any need in Perry Green just today,” she interjected while he drew breath. “Would it be a terrible imposition to ask you to take me over to Little Hadham? I have friends there and it is imperative that I reach them immediately,” she pleaded. “I know it’s a bit further away....”
Henry looked about as surprised as she imagined Henry could look, in regard to the change of plans. His surprise amounted to his brow—just one—rising almost but not quite to where his hat sat on his head.
But Henry was agreeable and soon had the gig headed west.
In Little Hadham, she found only Mrs. Smythe at their borrowed home.
“Alice is gone, my dear,” the old woman said sadly. “She wouldn’t listen to any of us, that she should stay with us. Met a fella, I’m guessing, hasn’t been ‘round in a week. I’ll be hoping she’ll be all right, ‘tis all I can do.”
Mrs. Smythe told her that her husband and Langdon were “about town” attempting to find an inexpensive gig or wagon, to bring them all to Emma when she was ready to receive them.
“Oh, you needn’t worry about that. I’ll send for you. That’s why I’m here—it’s all ready!” Emma said excitedly.
“So soon?” Mrs. Smythe looked bewildered.
“Shall I send the carriage ‘round tomorrow, or do you need an extra day or two?” Emma asked, but couldn’t imagine what might delay them, as they had no possessions to speak of.
“Oh, no, dear,” Mrs. Smythe said, covering her heart with her hand. “We cannot be coming until the end of the month, when the house’s lady returns. We promised we’d keep the house for her whilst she were gone. That was our deal.”
“Oh, I see,” Emma sad, a bit dejected, But not for long. “Tis all right, Mistress, that’s only a few weeks away.” She shared the information on the Daisies Cottage and advised Mrs. Smythe to send a missive when they were ready, and Emma would send a carriage for their short trip. At
a later date, she would give worry to what, exactly, she would tell the earl about her plans for her family and the cottage, and also, how exactly she might conspire to have Benedict House’s fine carriage sent ‘round to retrieve the Smythes and Langdon.
Chapter Fourteen
Emma and Bethany settled into a regular routine over the next few days. Their mornings began early, as they had ever been up at dawn, either because of Emma’s work, or Bethany’s sleep schedule. They’d begun to walk into Perry Green as the weather was mild and allowed these excursions. The walk itself proved to be a bit tiring for Bethany and Emma usually found herself carrying the child more than half the way, but once in town, Bethany was enlivened by the goings-on and busyness of the quaint little village.
They made friends with the butcher, who kindly answered Emma’s questions about what cuts of meat to buy for stews and such, and even took the time to give her a basic start on the actual cooking of the meat. She’d decided that even with Mrs. Smythe’s eventual coming, she should herself learn to cook. Emma also found a fine seamstress, three doors down from the butcher, her prices reasonable for a few more gowns for Bethany, though Emma advised that she would have to purchase these one at a time. The woman, of French descent, inquired boldly of Emma what her status in life was. Rather hesitantly, Emma explained vaguely that she received a small monthly income.
“From a man, no doubt,” the woman said, her accent thick, her brows raised provocatively. She tilted her head a bit towards Bethany.
Emma’s spine straightened a bit. “Not exactly,” she said, her tone indicating that was all she would say on the subject.
Curiously, the woman offered her a job. She told Emma that her regular cleaning woman, who came three days a week, after hours, had died only recently, and offered Emma the position in exchange for one outfit, either for herself or Bethany, every other week, in addition to a very modest wage. Emma excitedly accepted this proposition, for it seemed quite reasonable, and promised to start the following week. Madame Carriere gave a small mew when asked if Bethany might accompany Emma, until Emma made it clear that this would only be for the first few weeks, until Mrs. Smythe arrived to take charge of the little girl.
However, she despaired a bit over the time schedule. She wasn’t required until after seven in the evening, and she imagined the work—cleaning the two story modiste—might take several hours, and so she worried about having Bethany out so late and then walking home in the dark. But she figured she could at least try the job and see how it actually worked, and she kept in mind that it was only for a few weeks perhaps until the Smythes arrived and would likely help with Bethany.
Walking back to her new home once again, Emma gave some thought to the French woman’s question. How was she to explain her circumstance to her neighbors, or in this town? Bethany had been calling her ‘mama’ since the day Michael had insisted it was indeed acceptable. People would assume she was... like her sister. Or worse. She chewed the inside of her cheek, her frown thick while she thought upon this. She almost missed the sounds of a jotting horse and harnesses and wheels turning.
Just as a horse and cart was nearly upon her, Emma realized its’ presence and took up Bethany in her arms, keeping to the side of the road.
Emma turned as the cart slowed, shielding her eyes from the early afternoon sun while she considered the man driving the rig.
“Good morning,” he called, his smile friendly and handsome. “You must be Miss Emma,” he guessed as he stopped completely, while Emma stood just in the fringe of weeds along the dirt road. “I’m Callum MacKenzie, your nearest neighbor.” There must have been a question in her gaze, for he said then, “Henry told us all about you and your little girl.” And he wiggled his fingers in hello to Bethany, who only stared curiously at him.
“Very nice to meet you, Mr. MacKenzie,” Emma intoned.
“Can I give you a lift?” He asked, raising a thick and dark brow.
She liked his deep voice. “Oh, you’re very kind, but no, thank you.”
“Not puttin’ me out, miss. I’ll be passing yer place to get to my own.” He moved over on the bench seat. “Don’t be shy now, miss.”
“Well, all right, if you’re sure,” Emma agreed, thinking the offer would make it easier on Bethany. She lifted Bethany up onto the wagon, and Mr. MacKenzie steadied her while Emma hiked up her skirt and stepped up and into the vehicle herself. Once seated, she pulled Bethany onto her lap and thanked Mr. MacKenzie for the ride.
“Now, we’re neighbors, miss, so you’d be calling me Callum. None of this formal stuff, this ain’t the city.” And he smiled, glancing sideways at her and Emma liked him immediately. He was handsome, it was true, with broad shoulders and thick, light brown hair, and a curious dent right in the middle of his chin. His eyes were grayish blue and his smile the friendliest thing she’d seen in many a moon. “See over there, you can just make out the line of your place,” he said then, pointing much further ahead. Emma’s eyes followed and indeed, there was just the top of the thatched roof of the Daisies Cottage. “Now,” Callum continued, “I’m down the lane, about a half mile or so, so that makes me your closest neighbor. Winn Klein, at the edge of the hill, is closer on the north side. But you come to me if you need anything that ol’ Henry can’t help you with, miss.”
“That is very kind of you, Mr. Mac—Callum,” Emma responded with a smile of her own, while Bethany made a fuss about being able to so clearly see the horses of his rig.
“Just neighborly, miss, that’s all. And what takes you into Perry Green today?”
“If I’m to call you Callum, I insist you call me Emma. Please,” she added when he looked as if he’d refuse. “Bethany and I only look to learn about our little town, I guess. Nothing specific to bring me to Perry Green, though it’s a good excuse to get out of the cottage a bit.”
Her neighbor nodded at this. “When old Mrs. Finch lived there—just before you—she’d tie a bright ribbon on the front porch when she needed something from town, or to get there herself. That way, I’d see it as I got close and either pick her up or run some errands for her.”
“I would hate to be a bother,” Emma demurred. “As it is, I do have family coming in a few weeks.” She smiled prettily at her neighbor.
He appeared rather disappointed by this last news. “Wouldn’t be no bother at all, miss.”
Once in front of the Daisies short drive, Callum deposited Emma and Bethany near the petite gate and inquired whether or not she knew if she’d like a ride the next day.
“You’re very kind, Callum. I haven’t any plans as of yet, and I’m guessing the walking to and fro might aid in my efforts to get this little one to nap.”
He nodded in understanding and tipped his head in farewell before flicking the reins to move the cart again. Emma watched for a moment as he guided the rig further down the narrow road, hoping all her neighbors were as pleasant as Callum MacKenzie.
The very next time Emma saw Callum MacKenzie, it was at the Daisies. She and Bethany were trying to make some semblance of the vegetable garden, or what remained of it. Henry had offered, if she desired, to tackle the project himself, but Emma had declined his intent, claiming that it would give her and Bethany something worthwhile to occupy their time. This had been actually a bit of an understatement, as Emma found herself quite engrossed in the work. The immediate rear yard was conveniently contained by tall hedgerows which aided in keeping Bethany within close proximity. Sadly, her daughter hadn’t much interest in weeding and pruning as Emma might have hoped.
Presently, Emma glanced up, pushing her wide-brimmed hat up off her forehead, and saw that Bethany was safely occupied chasing a small yellow butterfly around the yard. Emma removed one of her heavy cotton gloves, provided by Henry for this task, and wiped at the small beads of sweat beginning to form on her brow. She considered her work as of yet—there remained at least two-thirds of the small tract yet to tackle—and thought it might take many more days to get the garden ready for pla
nting. Apparently, this had been neglected for quite some time.
“Hullo, neighbor,” came a call then from around the side of the cottage.
“Hullo!” Emma called back, recognizing the voice of Callum MacKenzie. He appeared at the gate at the corner of the yard, peeking over the wooden slats before entering. Emma stood to greet him, giving her back a good stretch to work out the small kink from bending for such a length of time.
“Good day, Callum,” she greeted her neighbor, wondering suddenly about his family and farm. Surely a man as handsome and pleasant as Callum MacKenzie, who appeared to be in his thirties, at least, was well-married with children by now.
“Miss Emma,” he said and removed his hat, working it round in his hands. “I’m headed into Perry Green, if you have a need of anything.”
“How very kind of you, Callum,” Emma said, smiling at his thoughtfulness. “I haven’t any pressing need, thank you” she said with a shrug, but then she thought of something her neighbor might be able to help her with. “Callum, I was wondering if you might be able to help me with a small dilemma I have.”
“Anything you need, Miss Emma,” he said, moving his hands with an indicative gesture of openness.
“Well, I’ve taken a job in Perry Green,” she told him. “Next week, I’ll start cleaning Madam Carriere’s modiste after hours. Bethany and I can walk into Perry Green after dinner, but I was worried that my return trip might be too late for both her and me. Is it too much to ask you to fetch us in the evening?” While he did not at all look as if he might refuse, she was quick to explain, “It would only be for a few weeks, at most. Just until...my family arrives. I completely understand if you cannot,” she rushed on, “seems terribly forward of me to presume upon you so soon after meeting.” She rather grimaced at him, awaiting his reply then.
If I Loved You (Regency Rogues: Redemption Book 2) Page 19