“No.”
“Where is it?”
“In the carriage.”
“But you insisted on carrying it,” Walt reminded her.
“It was too heavy.”
Palmer hid a smile.
“Go ahead, Walt,” his father instructed. “Bring it in, will you?”
Walt accomplished this task in little time and laid a large hamper at Anne’s feet.
“Lydia says she knows you’re busy and might be behind on your baking,” Palmer explained.
“Oh, my,” was all Anne could say as she peeked under the linens to find loaves of bread, scones, biscuits, and muffins. “Really, Palmer, you must tell her it’s too much.”
“She won’t listen,” Palmer said lightly, well pleased with what they’d done. “And you wouldn’t want to get me in trouble by sending any of it back.”
Anne was still shaking her head at him when Walt spoke.
“How is Colonel Gardiner?”
“Thank you for asking, Walt, but I don’t know. I’ve not been back from town too long, and he wasn’t here when I arrived. I assume he’s fine.”
“I like his sword.”
“He would enjoy showing it to you. We’ll have to plan on that some time.”
“Does he polish it each day?”
“Not every day, but often.”
“We have a sword, but it hangs on the wall.”
“I’ve seen the one you mean. It’s very fine.”
“Yes, but we can’t touch it.”
Anne smiled at his obvious regret over this, and at the same time she felt very tired. It had been a long few days. She found herself relieved when Palmer told the children it was time to go home, but her thanks for their visit and the basket were genuine.
“Take care of yourself,” Palmer told Anne, hanging back a moment before climbing in the carriage to join the children.
“I will, Palmer. Thank you.”
“Get some rest.”
Anne had no problem agreeing to that. She had just finished her bath when the Colonel arrived home. He was happy to see her but didn’t remember where she had been. She filled him in, but other than telling her she looked tired, he had little to say.
Anne told him where he could find his dinner and that the tea was still hot, and without guilt she took herself off to bed at an early hour.
Weston was on time Sunday morning and met several parishioners before the service began. He even had a few moments with Palmer, as he’d hoped.
“Have you had any dealings with Vintcent, the architect in the village?”
“Yes, I have. He’s never designed anything for me personally, but we’ve met and he’s done work for James Walker. The man you just met—Jennings—is Walker’s son-in-law. You should talk with him about Vintcent.”
“Could you introduce me to Walker?”
“If he’s here this morning, I’d be happy to.”
The bells began to ring just then, and Palmer said he would find Weston after the service.
“I have a message for you,” Marianne Jennings told Anne as soon as the service ended.
“Have you?” Anne asked but was quite certain she knew who it was from.
“Yes. Lydia wishes for you to come to tea tomorrow morning.”
Anne smiled.
“It didn’t work to send Palmer, so now she’s sending you.”
Marianne smiled but still said quite earnestly, “I know she wishes to see you, Anne. Please go.”
Anne was about to accept, seeing the entreaty in Marianne’s eyes, when she caught sight of Mr Weston. He wasn’t looking her way but was in conversation with several men, including Marianne’s father. Seeing him, she was starkly reminded of how different her life had become.
“Tell her not to expect me tomorrow, Marianne, but I will try to come soon.”
Marianne did not have the heart to press her. With a gentle squeeze to Anne’s arm, Marianne told her she understood. The two women sat talking about the way Marianne was feeling when Jennings found them.
“How are you, Miss Gardiner?”
“I’m well, Mr Jennings. And yourself?”
“Very well, thank you. Did I see the Colonel walking yesterday?”
“You might have. He didn’t get home until evening.”
“I’ve wondered several times,” Jennings admitted, “what he does when you come to church. Has he ever attended with you?”
“Not since he’s been ill. If he’s home when I leave, he asks me to pray for him, but he never wishes to accompany me.”
“Was Marianne inviting you to lunch just now?” Jennings asked, thinking it might be just what she needed.
“No, she was delivering a message from your sister.”
“Well, with that mission accomplished, why don’t you join us for lunch, Miss Gardiner? The children are all home.”
Anne’s eyes reflected longing, but she still began to shake her head.
Marianne answered to rescue her.
“Anne is staying a little closer to home these days, Jennings, but she’ll be out and about soon.”
Anne smiled a thank-you in her direction and wished them a fine day as they took their leave a few moments later.
She watched them walk up the aisle of the church, catching sight of Mr Weston again, still in conference with several men, and wondering for the first time if she was handling her situation well. Making her way toward the side door, she determined to speak to Pastor Hurst and Judith that very week, hoping they could shed some light on her complicated position.
Brown Manor
“A message just arrived from London, sir,” Mansfield told Weston the moment he arrived home. “It wasn’t five minutes ago.”
Weston took the paper from Mansfield’s hand, his heart sinking with dread as his eyes scanned the words.
“My mother is ill,” Weston said quietly. “I must be away directly.”
“Certainly, sir. I’ll ready everything.”
Giving orders as he dressed for the trip, Weston thought nothing of changing all of his plans for the week. His mother meant the world to him. Right now little else mattered.
Chapter Six
London
“I’ve never been so weak,” Lenore Weston whispered to her son, many days after he arrived to find her very unwell.
“I’m only glad you’re here at all,” he commented from the chair at her bedside. “I’ve never seen anyone so ill.”
“I still have a headache.”
“The doctor said that would last a few days longer.”
Lenore’s eyes began to close, so she forced them open.
“You didn’t come all this way to watch me sleep.”
Weston laughed softly.
“Go to sleep, Mother. I’ll be here.”
“You mustn’t stay on, Robert,” she urged him, even though her heart wanted him to remain. “Go back to Brown Manor and continue with your work on the conservatory.”
“Shhh,” he hushed her, with no plans to do as he was told. “Brown Manor and everything else in Collingbourne are doing just fine without me.”
Lenore sighed.
“You’ll be here?”
“I’ll be here,” he assured her, leaning forward to kiss her pale cheek and smiling when she closed her eyes to let sleep overtake her.
Collingbourne
It’s occurred to me that the whole town knowing that it was Robert Weston who was involved wouldn’t solve a thing, Anne. And in light of that, I don’t know what you could do differently. The ones who know you and love you understand. We’ll comfort ourselves with the fact that these things usually blow over. We will just hope this time that will be the case sooner rather than later.
Pastor’s words to Anne rang in her ears a full three weeks after he said them, but they were of little comfort. Each time she went to town it seemed to be worse. She was always welcomed at her regular shops—they were owned by kind people—but many of the townsfolk had become distinctly cold in her presence.
&
nbsp; She had stopped going into Gray’s tearoom, no matter how famished she felt, and she avoided the apothecary shop altogether. That proprietor’s wife all but glared at her when she dared to show her face. While these businesses were not a part of her regular routine, being made to feel uncomfortable anywhere in town was altogether new to her.
She loved Collingbourne, and for that reason her heart was heavy with its rejection of her. These days she gained the necessities on her list and departed from town as soon as she was able, but the situation as it stood lay heavy on her heart. Since her father’s illness, she had been considered something of a curiosity, a way of life she was used to. In more recent years—since her father’s inability to manage their estate had caused them to lose their home and lands—their lack of income had forced her into situations that were not fitting of her station, but even those townspeople of the most snobbish nature had seemed to understand.
Anne couldn’t help but wonder if things might have gone easier on her had she told all, but she was not going to satisfy the gossipmongers in town for any reason.
A feeling of dread had begun to settle all around her, and Anne fought it. Years ago, when her father had still been comatose, a friend had urged her to ask God for His very best. Her advice had been, Never expect to only survive, Anne. God wants you to thrive. The words had been lifechanging. Anne had patterned her prayer life and time in the Word with that very thought in mind, and she believed God had blessed her puny efforts. Not until now, when she felt like an outcast in her own hometown, did Anne’s heart begin to falter.
Making her way home, her small list filled and the basket hanging on her arm, Anne asked God to help her remember all His goodness. She asked Him to examine her own heart for pride or anything that would hinder her fellowship with Him. And she also asked God to help her critics have compassion toward her. Anne couldn’t think of anything else that might restore her good standing in the community.
“Welcome back to Collingbourne, Mr Weston,” Pastor Hurst greeted Weston at the end of the sermon on the last Sunday of the month; he hadn’t seen the man for several weeks. “How is your mother?”
“Much improved, thank you.”
“Your man got word to us, and we’ve been praying.”
“Thank you. I’m happy to report she is on her feet, and though she is still rather weak, she is gaining strength every day.”
“Excellent.”
The word was no more out of Pastor Hurst’s mouth when Weston glanced over the other man’s shoulder and spotted Anne Gardiner. She was on her way out through the side door, so it was a view of her back, but he was certain it was she.
“Was that Miss Gardiner just leaving?”
“It probably was,” Pastor Hurst said with a glance in that direction. “I believe she and Judith were visiting.”
“How is she?”
“Getting along,” Pastor Hurst said, his voice sobering a bit.
“I’m glad to hear it,” Weston said, not catching the tone or Pastor’s troubled gaze.
“Do you have plans for lunch, Mr Weston?” Pastor suddenly offered, realizing he didn’t know this young man very well. “Can you join my family?”
“I’d be happy to dine with you, Pastor. Thank you very much.”
“Good, good. I’ll just close up and we’ll head over to the manse.”
Weston stood quietly as Pastor Hurst shut the front doors and then followed him out the side door, near the front of the church, and across the grass to a sprawling stone house. The men entered through the kitchen door, their voices traveling ahead of them.
The Manse
Having planned to stay only a moment, Anne stood in the kitchen with Judith, discussing a recipe Anne had shared with her. Judith was repeating the ingredients back to her when Anne suddenly gripped her friend’s arm.
“That’s Mr Weston’s voice!” Anne whispered.
“No!”
“Yes, it is.”
“Frederick wouldn’t bring him this way.”
“It’s he, I’m sure. I must go!”
“But why, Anne?” Judith said to her friend’s rapidly disappearing back.
“Judith,” her husband called as he entered the room, Mr Weston at his heels.
“Oh, Frederick, I must see if I can catch—” The sight of Weston stopped the words in her mouth. “Hello, Mr Weston. Please forgive our informality.”
“Not at all, Mrs Hurst. I hope my presence won’t inconvenience you.”
“Not in the least.”
“What were you saying, dear?” the unsuspecting pastor questioned his wife. He received only an odd look from her.
“Where are you going?” Margaret, the eight-year-old, was heard to ask rather loudly from the direction of the dining room.
“Where is who going?” Pastor Hurst now asked, still not understanding his wife’s demeanor.
Judith didn’t reply.
“Anne?” Margaret was now calling, and Weston suddenly found himself all ears, something the Hursts did not miss.
“Is Miss Gardiner here?” he asked.
“Actually,” Judith answered as tactfully as possible, “she was just leaving.”
“Did you need to speak with her, Mr Weston?” Pastor asked, his face giving nothing away.
“As a matter of fact I had hoped to talk with her, but if she’s busy, it can wait.”
“I’m sure she has time,” the pastor replied expansively, drawing a look of disbelief from his wife. “Come along this way,” he directed. “We’ll catch her before she goes.”
This wouldn’t have been possible if Anne had not stopped to quietly explain to Margaret that she had to get home, but as it was, she was just arriving at the front door. She had the portal partially open when the pastor called her name.
“Anne, can you wait a moment?”
“Certainly,” she managed gracefully, even when she saw that her pastor had brought his visitor along.
“Can you remain for lunch?”
“Thank you so much, Pastor, but I must get home,” Anne said with a smile that encompassed both men.
“Well, then, I’ll let Mr Weston speak with you as he wished to do.”
Anne watched as the pastor moved away with Margaret. Surprised by this action, she realized that she herself was being studied. She forced her eyes to meet those of Mr Weston.
“Frederick,” his wife said to him in whispering tones the moment he stepped into the dining room. Margaret had been asked to check on her brother. “What are you about? She didn’t want to see him!”
“I suspected as much.”
“Then why did you push the point?”
“Because here it’s private. If their first meeting were in town or even at church, it would be much more awkward than if it occurred in our foyer.”
Judith nodded with understanding, glad that there was nothing more to it, but then she glanced back into her husband’s face and reconsidered that thought.
“There’s more, isn’t there?”
The pastor looked at the woman he cherished with all of his heart, knowing he could tell her anything, but also knowing that his impressions on this subject were new and needed more time.
“Yes, there is more, but I’m still thinking on it.”
Judith nodded. Thoughts of pushing the point never even entered her mind. She knew Frederick would discuss the matter with her when he was ready.
For the moment, however, Anne was still in a tight spot. Judith went to check on Phoebe and lunch preparations, praying for Anne all the while.
“Hello, Miss Gardiner.”
“Hello, Mr Weston.”
The two bowed in acknowledgment before Weston looked up and stared at her again.
When he remained quiet, Anne found his manner very confusing but still offered, “We heard about your mother. How is she feeling?”
“She is much improved, thank you,” he answered, feeling as if he’d been thrown a lifeline. Every word he’d planned to say had flown from hi
s head. They were slow in returning. “Your father, Miss Gardiner—how is he?”
“He’s very well, thank you.”
“Has it worked for you to be home?”
Anne’s mind cleared with understanding.
“Yes, it’s fine. I hope you have not been overly concerned, Mr Weston. Father hasn’t remembered any of the events surrounding your visit.”
But you remember every detail, Weston couldn’t help but think. And you’re embarrassed in my presence as though you did something wrong. None of these thoughts could be expressed. However, the owner of Brown Manor felt almost desperate to keep this woman talking.
“Do you think that if your father saw me again, he would remember me?”
“That’s hard to say,” Anne said with a small smile. “As you might guess, he’s most unpredictable.”
Weston smiled back at her, a smile full of gleaming white teeth. Anne found herself distracted and suddenly awkward.
“I really must go,” Anne said, her hand reaching for the door again.
“Let me get the door,” the gentleman offered, even walking Anne to the front yard.
“Goodbye,” she said as she began to move on her way.
Weston didn’t answer. He was busy looking for her carriage when he realized she didn’t have one.
“You’re walking, Miss Gardiner?” he called after her, moving to cover the distance between them.
“Yes, it’s not far,” Anne explained, turning slightly but continuing toward the road.
“My coach and man are right at the church. I’ll just go along and find him. He can give you a ride.”
“There’s no need, Mr Weston, thank you anyway,” Anne said over her shoulder, still in motion.
“I insist, Miss Gardiner. Please wait here.”
“No!”
She had stopped, faced him, and spoke more firmly than she intended. His shocked face caused her own cheeks to flame with color. With a calming breath she went on more quietly.
“Your kindness is not unnoticed, Mr Weston, but you’ve been in the area some weeks now and your coach will be more recognizable. Thank you, but I really must decline. Goodbye, Mr Weston.”