Underestimating Miss Cecilia Page 8

  Heat stole across her cheeks. “I know it was not the proper thing to do, but I felt it only right that you should know.”

  “Given your concern, I wonder—I hope—you will approve my next action also.”

  Further chance for conversation was cut off by the reentrance of Mrs. Cherry. As Cecy nibbled on another delicious scone, her mind gnawed on his words. Did he mean her concern for him? Oh, did he know her feelings? Awareness that he might caused her to wince, to lower her gaze, even as her heart trembled with hope that he might express something of the same.

  “These are delicious,” Ned said, finishing his first scone and starting on his second, much to Mrs. Cherry’s obvious pleasure.

  Cecy nodded her agreement, embarrassment keeping her lips closed.

  “Mrs. Cherry, considering our earlier conversation, I feel it only right to tell you that I have persuaded the magistrate to drop the charges against the fellow accused of attacking me.”

  Mrs. Cherry gasped. “What?”

  Cecy met his gaze, her brows raised, as Mrs. Cherry continued her expostulations.

  He nodded slightly, lips twisted to one side in a wry gesture. “I know that as a Christian woman you would be keen to see justice served, and I cannot think it right for an innocent man to hang for what he did not do.”

  “But he attacked you!”

  “He did not,” Ned said firmly. “He was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

  “But they say he is a mute!”

  “Which surely does not make one more prone to violent crime, does it? Come now, Mrs. Cherry. Did you not often speak to us when we were children of the importance of loving one’s neighbor?”

  Cecy bit her lip. Oh, if only he might follow such advice.

  “I am sure Miss Cecilia agrees.” His eyes held warmth, but not for her.

  “Y-yes,” she said, gaze lowering again. She was indeed a fool. Emotion collected behind her nose, behind her eyes. But she would not betray herself. Daughters of Aynsley did not do such things.

  “But one cannot love persons of that class!”

  “One should care for those who are sick, who are poor. Is that not what our Lord commanded?”

  “Well …”

  “Miss Hatherleigh? Do you not agree?”

  “I … of course.”

  “Miss Cecilia?” Mrs. Cherry looked at her closely. “You appear unwell.”

  “I …” want to leave. She drew herself up, fashioned a smile from her trembling lips. “Forgive me. Yes, I do believe it is important we care for those who are on the margins of society.”

  “It is the Christian thing to do,” Ned agreed.

  The approval in his voice engendered courage to continue. “I … I certainly would not like to be treated the way the travelers have, and can understand why, when they meet with such prejudice, that they would perhaps feel helpless, when their good behavior is disregarded.” Well she knew what it was like to feel overlooked and underestimated. Still refusing to look at him she said, “I would not want to be characterized as being a certain way simply because of certain actions in my past. I’m sure most people would like to think others would offer a second chance.”

  “Well said, Miss Hatherleigh,” Ned commended, forcing her to peek briefly at him. Did he think she talked about him? No matter she referred to the frequent epithets concerning her propensity to shyness.

  She placed her teacup and saucer on the table and rose. “Mrs. Cherry, I hope you’ll be so good as to excuse me. I should return. I’m sure Mother is wondering where I am.”

  “Of course.”

  Cecy managed a curtsy, managed to flick Ned a smile, then tied on her bonnet and gathered her wrap and parasol for the return walk.

  The garden gate had just clanked behind her when the hurried steps of Mr. Amherst drew her attention.

  “Miss Hatherleigh, Cecilia, please wait.”

  “I have been too long already.” She moved to go. She could not linger in his company, much as she might wish to. Spending time with him only fueled dreams that could never be. For he would only ever think of her as a type of friend. Friends. That was all.

  “Then may I walk you home?”

  She shook her head, conscious Mrs. Cherry could still see them from the window. “It would not be proper.”

  “But it is proper for you to walk home unescorted? What strange ideas about propriety you possess, Miss Cecilia.”

  Heat stole along her cheeks, and she managed to say with difficulty, “I have walked this path many times without escort, I assure you.”

  “You may assure as much as you like, but you have not let matters of propriety stop you before. Please, I wanted to speak to you.”

  The ashes of her hopes kindled to life again. He wished to speak to her? How could she deny him? She swallowed, anticipation fluttering against her chest. “Very well.”

  Within a few minutes they were crossing the small bridge that led to the Aynsley parkland, Ned leading his horse as they strolled under the great oaks and stands of silver birch.

  “I’m so pleased to have the chance to speak with you.”

  He was? Her spirits soared. Oh, surely he would now admit his feelings, speak of his heart!

  “I gathered from dear Cherry’s words she would not have been enamored with what I wished to say, but I trust you will understand.”

  She peered past the primrose ribbon lining her bonnet brim. “I am so glad you were able to help him. He did not seem the type of man to engage in hostile behavior. He seemed quite pitiful, not dangerous.”

  “I knew you would understand. He—that is, Mr. Drako—is to be pitied, not feared.”

  “You know his name?”

  “I have spent some time with him in recent days. He … he and his wife have moved to a small cottage on the far side of the Franklin Park estate.”

  She stopped. “You are not serious.”

  “Why?” His brow creased. “Do you not approve?”

  “I am simply astonished that your father would agree to such a scheme. That your brother would agree is even more of a surprise.”

  “My father was able to see reason.”

  “And your brother?”

  “Does not need to be consulted. Franklin Park is my concern, not his.”

  “Oh, of course.”

  “Well, Miss Hatherleigh? Do you approve my scheme?”

  “I’m very glad for your sake, and for poor—Mr. Drako, you said?” He nodded, falling into step with her as she resumed walking. “That was his wife he wanted me to see. A poor and sickly creature. Dr. Hawking was half inclined to not tend her before Father reminded him of his obligations, so we are hopeful she will make a full recovery.”

  She peeked at him again. How different he sounded, how full of purpose he appeared.

  “What is it? You study me like you have not seen me before.”

  Her cheeks heated and she lengthened her stride. “I am glad you have been able to help.”

  “I am also. It was a shame to think of the cottages sitting empty when it is in my power to assist.”

  The cottages on the small estate that adjoined the back corner of the Rovingham lands. She knew Franklin Park had been entrusted to him; the small manor a legacy often gifted to the earldom’s second son. It had been occupied for some time by an elderly aunt, whose demise last year had followed that of her husband, the earl’s brother, two years before. For all its apparent nearness—only three miles away, adjoining Aynsley’s lands at the back—she had yet to see it. But from others’ accounts, it was as neat and tidy a manor as one could hope to see. She smiled at herself. Such was the knowledge derived from the local neighborhood’s interest in their more highly titled neighbors.

  Tree shadows flickered over his face, his expression now pensive.

  Was he worried? What could she say to boost his spirits? “You are very good.”

  He flushed, his eyes averting to study the upright stones atop the low wall bounding the Aynsley manor gro
unds. “Clearly you do not know me well. For it is something I would not have been able to do if it hadn’t been for—Miss Hatherleigh, are you truly in such a rush? It appears you have no wish to hear me speak.”

  She stopped. “I’m sorry.”

  He chuckled, all pensiveness gone. “I would not wish for you to think me elsewhere. Not when I still have to thank you.”

  “Thank me?”

  “I would never have discovered my future purpose if it hadn’t been for you.”

  Warmth kindled in his eyes, igniting the hope in her heart once more. Oh, that he would say something about having her in his future! She licked suddenly dry lips. “You mentioned your future purpose. What … what is it you are thinking?”

  He turned to face her, picked up her hand. Sparks tingled through her gloved fingertips. Fire danced along her arm. Oh! He would speak of his love! He would say—

  “I am going to London.”

  “What?”

  He grinned. “I know it seems sudden, but you have inspired me.”

  To leave? It was suddenly hard to breathe.

  “I would never have thought of this, and to be honest, London holds little in the way of good memories for me, but I am now determined to see if my life can be used for something more than this—” He let go to wave his hand. “Something that will make a difference in the lives of others, those who are poor and unable to fight for themselves. People like the travelers, the Irish, and so on.”

  But such efforts meant forgoing making a difference in her life. She swallowed the pain, the chagrin of knowing the depths of her self-deception, the degree of her self-interest. She must instead concentrate on the good. “I … I am glad.”

  “You are?” He shot her a quick glance, forcing her to produce a shield of a smile.

  “It sounds like something our Lord would have us do.”

  “And that is what I appreciate about you. You are always so quick to remind me of God’s purposes. Sometimes, Miss Hatherleigh, I feel like you are the best little chum a man could have.”

  Her eyes filled, hastening her steps once again. He thought her but a little chum? Oh, what misery she lived in!

  “Are you not pleased for me?”

  “I …” She cleared her throat to sound less like a strangled cat. “I am very happy for you.”

  And she was. But also very unhappy for what his actions would mean for her. She would be alone. Virtually friendless. Her sisters would both be away, married or at school. No one with whom she shared the bond of sympathetic understanding. Without him, how would she find sunshine in her days?

  “I’m glad. I haven’t dared yet break the news to Mama. I fear she will not be happy, especially given my relatively recent return.”

  “She …” and I, she swallowed, “missed you very much last year.”

  “I know. I should never have taken that path, but I was younger, and foolish, thinking a university degree and my father’s name and money made me invincible.” His brow furrowed. “I never spoke to you of that time, did I?”

  “No.”

  “It was a bad time, a bad time. Gambling, drinking. Well, I shall not soil your ears with tales of my ungentlemanly pursuits.” His cheeks reddened. “I see now just what a coil I wove for myself, trying to be someone I was not.”

  What was it Caro had said? That he’d tried to act “like a Lothario.” He coughed. “Is that what people thought?”

  Her cheeks flamed. How like Verity she was behaving! “Forgive me. I didn’t mean to say—”

  “I would not think you to even know the meaning of the word, let alone speak it.”

  “I’m sorry.” She moved to leave.

  “No, no. Don’t go. It is one of the things I appreciate about you. You are not afraid to speak honestly when so many others seem content to hide behind half-truths.”

  His words about appreciation could not revive her foolish hope, now lying limply in her soul.

  “I hope you do not consider this untoward, but I do think of you as a friend. You do not mind that, do you?”

  What could she say but “No.”

  “Good. Well, this may prove to be farewell. I have hopes to call on your parents tomorrow to take my leave, and best go now to attend to my packing. Thank you, again.”

  She found a smile, managed to whisper, “Goodbye.”

  He swung up on his horse and lifted a hand. “Goodbye, my friend.”

  Friend.

  Her eyes filled with tears.

  How strange that a small dab of a girl could have burrowed into his heart to such an extent he now considered her one of his good friends. Mercury’s hooves thundered as he rode up the path to the Rovingham estate. He did not know what it was about her that led him to speak so openly. It probably was not quite the gentlemanly thing to do. But he’d found himself quite unable not to share his heart, even as he knew he would need to break the news of his departure to his mother.

  His lips twisted. Mother would not be best pleased. His prodigal-like return last Christmas had seen him clasped to her chest for many minutes as their tears mingled. He hadn’t realized until that moment just how precariously his life had hung in the balance, the gunshot wound he’d sustained leading to an infection that made him so weak the doctors had despaired and Father had implored his mother to remain in Somerset, sure she would not wish to see him so ill. The past months of resting had helped, but he would never again own the physicality of John, or that he could see possessed by Caroline’s new husband.

  No, working at a desk might be best for him. Even if Mother did not approve, he had prayed about his future, and couldn’t help but feel this decision had God’s approval.

  Ned cantered up the long path to the house he had grown up in, up to the stables, and soon he had passed Mercury off to a groom. Minutes later he was inside the house seeking out his mother. She was in her drawing room, with his brother. His heart sank. Trying to explain his plans to his mother was one thing; trying to explain himself to his brother was quite another.

  “Ah, Edward,” she said. “I’m glad you have returned. John tells me you went out for a ride.”

  “I did,” he said. “To see Cherry.”

  “Oh, and how is she?”

  “Quite well. I, er, need to speak to you about something.” He glanced at his brother, relieved when John pushed to his feet, murmured an excuse to his mother, and left.

  “Now, what is it you wish to say?”

  “Mother, I do not know if you are aware of the recent action concerning the travelers.”

  “Your father mentioned something.”

  “And has he mentioned Mr. Drako is now living with his wife in one of the cottages at Franklin Park?”

  “Truly? Well, this I did not know.” Her brow knit. “Do you think it wise?”

  “I have taken measures to ensure nobody will know or disturb them.”

  She bit her lip. “But if you were found out?”

  “They will be safe, and so will I. Please, Mother, do not worry.”

  She slowly nodded, her reluctance obvious. “I can understand why you think these measures necessary.”

  He exhaled. “I’m so glad. It did not seem right, it still is not right that such people are forced to endure the suffering so often inflicted upon them simply because they are different.”

  “Fear often drives such things.”

  “Exactly. And that is why I believe God has led me to this new path.”

  “What new path?”

  “Mama, I feel like God has ignited something new within me. I know you were so happy to see me return, and expressed the wish that I would not return to London, but I sense God is prompting me to resume my training and assist those who have no voice to be protected in some way. In short, I hope to take up law again.”

  “But your uncle said he would not have you work with him again.”

  “His is not the only practice in London.”

  Her eyes held worry. “This seems a very sudden decision.”
>
  “I know. But I have for some time been praying for guidance as to what to do, and I really feel that this is an answer to prayer.”

  His mother sighed. “When one says such things, it makes it very hard to argue.”

  “Then I hope you shan’t feel the need to argue.”

  A smile tweaked her lips, evidence of the good humor he knew her for. “I cannot like it, but I suppose I cannot stop you.”

  “You could if you just said the word.”

  She shook her head. “What kind of mother would I be to dictate my son’s life in that manner?”

  “A caring one.”

  “One who cares more about herself than she does about her son’s welfare, perhaps.” She squeezed his hand. “I gather John does not yet know?”

  “Not yet.”

  “So only your father does?”

  “And Miss Hatherleigh.”

  “Cecilia?”

  “Yes. I have just come from speaking with her.”

  “Oh! And … and how did she take the news?”

  “She said she was happy for me.”

  “Well.” His mother grew thoughtful. “She is a good girl.”

  “That she is.”

  She gave him a searching look. “You have no thought of her?”

  “Mother! No.” Not in any sense that she meant anyway. “She is a friend, that is all.”

  She pursed her lips, but continued to study him gently. “You know she cares for you.”

  “As a friend.”

  Mother shook her head but said nothing more.

  Her words dug into his soul. Had he somehow misled poor Cecy? He suddenly saw just how his actions might have been construed. The secret notes. The meetings at Cherry’s house. The way she seemed to light up when he spoke to her. He groaned. Dear God. He had behaved in a way most imprudent. Yet another reason he should leave as soon as possible.

  “I will see the Aynsleys tomorrow and say goodbye.”

  “That sounds wise.”

  He eyed his mother uncertainly. “I feel like there is something you’re not saying.”

  “And I feel that, were I to say anything, you would be like your brother and do the opposite.”

  “That is harsh.” But possibly true. He forced a smile. “Probably best not to say anything, then.”