Daisies and Devotion

by Josi S. Kilpack

  “Of course,” Lucy said, patting Maryann’s hand. “I’ll ask one of the other girls to help with your hair tonight.”

  “You are not getting any complaint from the other staff, are you?”

  “Oh, no,” Lucy said, smiling and shaking her head. “I gave the housekeeper a pair of fine silk stockings, and she has given me all the margin I could ever want. No one dares question her.”

  Maryann stood at the window, fiddling with the strings of her reticule as she watched the phaeton come to a stop in front of the house. She had never gone on an open-carriage ride with a gentleman, and though she was excited, she was oddly nervous. There was something silly about riding around town in his carriage where people could see them. As though they were trying to advertise their interest in one another; it had only been a few days since the colonel’s morning visit.

  It also seemed to her as though carriage rides were reserved for the young. And she worried that he had suggested it so he might impress her with his fancy carriage. Not that he shouldn’t want to impress her, she wanted to impress him, but she didn’t want him to think that she was interested in material things. Because she wasn’t.

  Being a woman at times came with too large a capacity to think all the thoughts at once.

  “Relax,” Deborah said from where she sat, still working on Father’s handkerchiefs.

  “I’m trying,” Maryann said. She was a grown woman, so why was she feeling like such an inexperienced girl?

  Perhaps what really had her unsettled was Lucy’s report that had come from a chambermaid hired with the house he’d let for the rest of the season. Apparently, Colonel Berkins was everything he said he was. It was the first report Lucy had ever given that had not revealed some ulterior plan. Maryann was glad for it, but it meant there was no reason not to invest herself in his attention. Was she ready to do so? Was Colonel Berkins the man she’d been waiting for? Her perfect man, even though she did not believe in such things?

  She backed away a step from the window, watching as he hopped down from the high seat of his carriage and came around the front of the horses. He had no tiger—not for a two-person carriage—so he waited for a footman to secure the horses before he came up the walkway, straightening his coat as he did so. His confident stride seemed to tell the world that he was in accord with himself and therefore they may as well be in accord with him too. Timothy held himself in a similar way. Was that why she admired it in Colonel Berkins? Did she like the colonel for his own sake, or because he reminded her of Timothy?

  So many thoughts!

  She heard the knock at the door and placed herself in the center of the room so she could smile when he came in. And he did come in. And she did smile as he crossed the room and bowed over her hand. He wore buff-colored trousers, a black coat, and a simple cravat. “You look lovely, Miss Morrington.”

  “Thank you, Colonel Berkins.”

  They said their goodbyes to Deborah, and then went out into the lovely afternoon of blue skies and just the right amount of breeze to keep the air moving but not plaster her skirts to her legs.

  Maryann startled when Colonel Berkins put his hands on either side of her waist and lifted her completely off the ground so her foot might reach the step, but she went along with it—what else could she do? He winked once she’d found her balance on the seat, and she narrowed her eyes playfully in response, making him laugh. He crossed round to his side and climbed up to his seat. It was a relief to feel her anxiety settling. She was with a man she liked, who was everything he said he was, and they were in a carriage on a fine afternoon. What was there to be so worked up about?

  “Timothy says you hail from Somerset,” Colonel Berkins said once the phaeton had found its pace. Though the carriage was known for speed, he did not seem intent to show off that aspect, which she appreciated. “I imagine that contrasts with London a great deal.”

  “Yes, it is very different here,” she said, adjusting her position. The seat had a back, but no side so she found herself leaning toward Colonel Berkins in order to keep her balance. She felt so far off the ground.

  “I have been to Somerset once, many years ago with a military friend. A little town called Broomfield, do you know it?”

  “I do,” she said, looking at him in surprise. “My sister has a friend who lives in Taunton. We stayed the summer once when my parents were traveling to Wales.”

  They continued to talk of Somerset and the sea; she’d grown up beside it, and he’d come to love it during his time in the army and the years he’d lived in Spain.

  “Lovely country,” he said, nostalgically. “And the people are beautiful and openhearted. Only there is still so much rebuilding to be done there. It was a relief to return to England. The structure of it all—laws and roads and decency.”

  “You will not miss Spain, then?”

  “Oh, I miss the land every day, but I hope to keep the best parts of it here with me.” He put a hand to his chest.

  “Where will you live after your time in London, then? If your land will go to mining, will you need to be there to supervise the work?” It hurt her heart to imagine the rich countryside being destroyed. But mining was the future, everyone said so, even her father, and it was a primary topic in Parliament to make sure too much land did not fall victim.

  “I am unsure, which I realize is an unpopular answer. A man is expected to be certain of all things.”

  She liked that he could be honest with her, and then she had to take hold of his arm as they rounded a corner into Hyde Park. It was a crush of carriages, and they likely could have walked faster than the carriage was moving. Despite the silliness she’d felt earlier, she found it rather exciting to be in the place where so many people went to be seen. She would be seen with Colonel Berkins, who was growing handsomer each time she saw him and who was the only man able to replace a certain other man in her thoughts. She was officially glad she’d accepted the invitation.

  “You are among friends here, Colonel Berkins,” she said once their pace and position were constant. “And if anyone can appreciate your uncertainty it is I. I am meant to make a match here in a city I’ve never been in before and then to live at the whim of my husband. At least you know what your choices are.” Sometimes when she thought of not living in Orchard House again, she could barely breathe. Especially lately as the blush had faded from London.

  He laughed. “I hadn’t thought of that, Miss Morrington. Perhaps you and I are not so different, then. I suppose I have choices to make, but I still feel at the whim of things.”

  “So, what are your choices of where you might live?” Maryann asked. “What have you considered?”

  They spent the rest of the ride nodding to acquaintances—hers, mostly, since he was so new back to England, let alone London—and talking of his possibilities while the horses kept a steady pace.

  Colonel Berkins explained that he had a house on the far end of his land, away from the mining operations, but it was small and currently occupied by a steward he was hesitant to turn out—the man had five children. Or he’d considered keeping a house in London where much of the business side of the industry would take place.

  “I could set up residence nearly anywhere, so long as my wife was patient with my necessary absences, which I fear shall be the case regardless of where I decide to settle. I shall simply have to find ways to make it up to her, I suppose.”

  He bumped her with his shoulder, just as Timothy often did. This comradery with promise was something she could learn to like very much. “Perhaps you could even live in Somerset,” she said in as casual a tone as she could manage even though she feared her meaning was entirely transparent.

  “I don’t see why that shouldn’t be a consideration,” he said. “In fact, as I shall be traveling and managing business no matter where we live, I don’t know why I would be the one to make the decision at all. I imagine if a man m
arries a sensible woman, he ought to consider her wishes as important as his own, don’t you think?”

  Oh, Deborah, if you could only hear this! “What a very modern and reasonable man you are, Colonel.”

  “I should hope so,” he said. “The world is changing, and I don’t know why people resist changing with it. Far easier to adapt to new ways and ideas, says I.”

  Maryann would have been sad to see the ride come to an end if not for the fact that the constant bouncing had dislodged one of the hatpins holding her bonnet in place and it was now stabbing her in the back of the head. Every bump since leaving the park further convinced her that the pin had drawn blood.

  It was a relief when Colonel Berkins finally came to a stop in front of her house. She was prepared for him to lift her from the carriage this time, and she put her hands on his shoulders, letting them linger once her feet were on the ground. He was not quite as tall as Timothy, but tall enough that she had to look up into his face. He kept his hands on her waist a few moments and then surprised her by kissing her quickly on the cheek.

  “Colonel Berkins!” she said in sincere surprise when he straightened and released her. She did not hold back her smile, though, nor regret the way the kiss shivered through her most pleasantly.

  “Forgive me,” he said. “I could not help myself after such a thoroughly enjoyable afternoon.”

  “Well, I can’t argue that,” she said, then leaned in and dropped her voice. “But the next time you choose to show your thanks, perhaps select a location that does not afford my family a front row seat.”

  She looked past him to Deborah, framed in the front window, and gave her a finger wave. Deborah raised her eyebrows and stepped away.

  Colonel Berkins looked over his shoulder in time to see the retreat, then looked at Maryann and cringed. “Forgive me, Miss Morrington. Your sister will think me a cad. I did make sure the street was clear.”

  “More likely she will think me a wanton woman for not slapping you.” But she smiled as she said it because the kiss felt as genuine as he professed it to be.

  They shared their farewells on the small porch, and then she closed the door behind her. She was surprised Deborah was not waiting in the entry with her arms folded and her toe tapping.

  Then Maryann entered the drawing room.

  Deborah sat on the settee facing the door, with Lucas beside her and Timothy standing at the mantel. What was he doing here? All of them looked at her with such equally expectant expressions that she laughed. She did not miss Timothy’s slight tightening of his jaw when she did so. So be it. She had laughed out loud three different times with Colonel Berkins, and he had laughed along with her.

  “Don’t the three of you look like a trio of broody hens.”

  “What on earth are you thinking, letting him kiss you like that?” Deborah said. “And on the street!”

  Maryann undid the ribbons of her bonnet, eager to pluck the offending pin from her scalp. “First, he did not ask permission. He just kissed me so I had no opportunity to ask him not to.” She pulled out the two long, sharp pins holding the bonnet in place as well as the pointed culprit—the six-inch pearled pin. “Second, there was no one on the street.” She removed the bonnet and wished she could take out all the hairpins keeping her bun in place, but of course she couldn’t let her hair down with Timothy and Lucas in the room. “And third, it was a lovely gesture.”

  “It was not a lovely gesture,” Deborah said. “It was a liberty, and beyond his right.”

  “Well, if you count a kiss on the cheek as a liberty then it is about time someone took one.”

  Lucas groaned. Maryann looked at Timothy for support. He would find that funny, wouldn’t he? But his expression was blank, and his stare was hard.

  “Goodness, what is wrong with the three of you?”

  “He put his hands on you,” Timothy said.

  “When he lifted me from the carriage? Yes, he did. I would like very much to see you in skirts and petticoats get yourself down from a perch such as that.” She gestured toward the window as though the high-seated carriage was still outside for reference.

  “He should have provided you a ladder,” Lucas explained oh so helpfully.

  Maryann put her hands on her hips and glowered at both men in turn. “As if navigating a ladder is any easier in skirts and petticoats.”

  “Maryann,” Deborah said in a tone that quivered on the edge of calm. “That display on the street was very brazen and will make you the center of gossip.”

  “Only if the three of you wag your tongues. No one else was about.”

  “If you are willing to allow him such . . . familiarity on the street, then you will likely allow more of the same in public, and that will be the ruin of your reputation,” Lucas said.

  Deborah nodded. “There are girls who never recover from such things.”

  Timothy added his opinion to the fray. “And no true gentleman would treat a young woman as Colonel Berkins just treated you because he would understand all of those things.”

  Maryann narrowed her eyes at him. “And who are you to chastise me on this, Timothy Mayfield? You are not my father nor my brother.”

  That extinguished some of the flame in his eyes but did not douse it completely. “I am your friend—and a member of the same circles you are moving in. I don’t want to see you hurt.”

  “Oh, you don’t?” She opened her mouth to tell him that no one could hurt her the way he had, but luckily, she did not let her tongue run away with the words. Instead, she closed her mouth and lowered her hands from her hips. Someone had to diffuse this and it may as well be her because she was certainly the most uncomfortable.

  “I had a lovely ride with Colonel Berkins, and I suspect that, as he is newly back to England, he is less familiar with the constraints of polite society. His kiss was only a reflection of how much we enjoyed one another’s company, and I would ask the three of you to give me more credit. I would never stand for anything such as that in a public setting. But I will not apologize for enjoying the attention of a good man after so many months of having nothing of the sort.”

  She deliberately did not look at Timothy just then. “I am very tired and pray you will excuse me. Good afternoon.”

  She turned to leave, then remembered her bonnet and came back to the room to retrieve it and her pins.

  “I’m sorry, Maryann,” Timothy said quietly as she passed by him. “You are right. I have no position in which to reprimand you.”

  She looked at him and felt her insides soften. She hoped such sensations would soon fade as Colonel Berkins took priority. She let out a breath. “Of course, I forgive you, Timothy.” She looked toward her sister and brother-in-law. “I am sorry for upsetting all of you. I will be more circumspect if you will not treat me like a child.”

  “That will be easier to do when you do not act—” Lucas said, but stopped when Deborah put her hand on his knee. Apparently, it was all right when a married woman did so to her husband.

  “We trust you,” Deborah said in that motherly voice again. “And we apologize for our reaction. Perhaps we can all retain whatever wisdom has come from this exchange and then carry on as though it did not happen.”

  She looked pointedly at her husband, who nodded, though his expression was still tight. Timothy nodded as well, but Maryann no longer wanted to look him in the eye.

  “Thank you,” Maryann said. “If you’ll excuse me.”

  She left the room, knowing that as soon as the door closed behind her they would be discussing her actions. Was it so inappropriate?

  She reached her bedchamber and tossed her bonnet onto a chair and her pins onto her vanity before falling face first on the bed. It was not fair that their reactions should ruin such an enjoyable afternoon. None of them knew how difficult it was for her to watch Timothy with every other woman but herself.

 
; And why had Timothy reacted so strongly? She ascribed the heat in her chest partly to embarrassment for him having seen the display, but mostly to anger that he thought he had any place to reprimand her for it. She knew he had stolen his share of kisses from the debutantes in town. How would he feel if she had told him what was whispered about him? And how it made her want to cover her ears each time she heard it.

  But then . . . he hadn’t only been worried for her reputation. He’d been angry. Even jealous?

  She sat up on the bed and shook her head. What would he have to be jealous of? He must simply be feeling protective. She knew he’d often told people he regarded her as a younger sister. She’d rolled her eyes when she first heard that, and she rolled them again now remembering it.

  There was a knock at the door, and Lucy poked her head in. “It is time to get ready for the opera,” she said.

  Was it? Maryann sighed and stood up. “Yes, I suppose it is.”

  Lucy held a royal-blue velvet gown over both arms. Maryann wondered how she’d managed to knock and then open the door. The gown was new from the seamstress that morning and freshly pressed. It was the perfect distraction for Maryann’s mood. At the final fitting last week, it had none of the beading on the bodice or piping along the seams. She especially loved the white fur trim at the neckline; it would be like wearing a cloud.

  Deborah felt sure she could manage attending tonight. Maryann was glad for that. She hoped the shared excitement of the event would help them overcome the disagreeable afternoon.

  Lucy laid the dress reverently across the bench, and Maryann ran her finger down the fabric as soft as kitten fur. “It is magnificent,” she said in a church whisper. Too bad Timothy would not be attending with them. She shook the thought out of her head. Too bad Colonel Berkins would not be attending with them. His was the opinion that needed to matter to her now.