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“Mother.” Major Grenville bowed and kissed her offered hand. “You look well.”
“Humph. What else would you say to me?” She stepped back and viewed him up and down. “You, on the other hand, do not look well at all.” She reached up and gripped his chin, turning his head one way, then the other, and emitted another disagreeable harrumph. “Still, you will live to serve another day.”
Anna’s heart sank. When Peter returned to her, she would embrace him and shower him with sisterly kisses and loving affirmation. How could this woman be so cold to her wounded son who had sailed across the ocean to fight for England?
Major Grenville gave her a warm smile. “Just so, Mother, if they want a cavalry officer who may not be able to ride as he once did.”
Yet another harrumph from the lady. “Nonsense. They would not dare to turn down Greystone’s brother. I shall see to it.”
Anna’s mind spun as she observed the woman’s attitude. Even Mrs. Brown must be shocked, for she gasped softly.
Lady Greystone’s head whipped around in their direction, and her dark, elegant eyebrows rose. “Who on earth are these creatures? How dare you bring them into my drawing room?” She eyed the major briefly before stepping over to Anna and glaring at her up and down through the single lens of her quizzing glass. “And just what is this one to you?”
The major limped forward, worry creasing his forehead. “Mother, forgive me, but when I read your letter about Miss Peel’s demise, I knew you would be searching for a new companion. This young lady is a vicar’s daughter and—”
“How dare you?” The viscountess turned her quizzing glass toward him with a fierce glare. “Do you think you can just snatch up some dowdy creature from the roadside and bring her through my front door into my drawing room to be my companion?” Her angry stare returned to Anna.
“You.” She sneered as if Anna smelled bad, and stepped back as one would from a victim of the plague. “Take your servant and get out.”
Chapter Four
“Wait.” Edmond leaned on Matthews’s arm and limped after Mother. “Madam, I beg your indulgence. This is no stranger from the side of the road.” He swallowed hard, wondering how much longer he could remain on his feet. “Miss Newfield’s brother saved my life and died in the process.” He glanced at the young woman, who winced at his words. He despised dashing her hopes that her brother might yet live. But Mother would respond better to a brave soldier’s death than to one who simply remained missing. In the corner of his eye, he noticed the outrage on Mrs. Brown’s plump face. If the woman spoke up to her betters, all would be lost.
He hastened to fill in the silence as Mother’s stare continued to rake the young woman up and down through her quizzing glass. “As I said, she is a vicar’s daughter of flawless reputation.”
Mother’s head snapped toward Edmond and then back toward Miss Newfield. “Indeed.”
“Yes, madam.” He sent Miss Newfield and her companion a warning frown indicating that he would speak for them. “And Mrs. Brown is a renowned and much-in-demand seamstress in her town, yet she took time from her work to accompany her friend for propriety’s sake.” At the compliment, Mrs. Brown’s angry flush softened to a pleased blush.
“Hmm.” Mother’s slender eyebrows, always an indicator of her mood, lowered from their aristocratic arch. She tapped her quizzing glass against her chin, then circled Miss Newfield as a man might circle a horse he was appraising. “Hmm,” she repeated. “Do you read, gel?”
Miss Newfield executed a perfect curtsey. “Yes, Lady Greystone. English, French and Latin.” For the first time in their brief acquaintance, Edmond noticed her flawless diction. Where had she learned to speak so well?
Mother’s eyebrows arched again, this time in surprise. “Indeed?” She harrumphed. “Educated by your father, I suppose.”
Ah, yes. Edmond recalled the incident with the vicar’s Bible brought from Oxford, where all Greystone sons had attended school. Another connection with the Newfield family formed in his mind, but he would wait to mention that to Mother.
“Yes, my lady.” Miss Newfield’s demeanor was everything proper in tone and posture, at once both confident and deferential.
Edmond felt a surge of pride, as if she were one of his soldiers who had met the approval of a superior. Pride, and perhaps a hint of affection such as he felt for Matthews.
“Are you a bluestocking?” Mother’s contempt for those women was evident in her haughty tone.
“I—I…” Miss Newfield glanced at Edmond, her head tilted in a pretty, questioning pose.
“Mother, I doubt the Bluestocking Literary Society meets in such a small village as Blandon.”
Understanding filled Miss Newfield’s eyes, and she gave Edmond a grateful smile. A strange feeling filled his chest. Once again he had found a way to help the young lady, and it gave him every bit as much satisfaction as winning a battle.
“Humph.” Mother came close to sneering. “Who are your people?”
Miss Newfield’s poise remained intact. “My lady, my father was the second son of a gentleman whose grandfather was knighted by Her Majesty Queen Anne.”
“And your father chose to bury himself in a remote village? Could he not obtain a better living through influential friends?”
“I do not know, my lady. But his people loved him.”
Mrs. Brown mumbled her agreement, but Mother appeared not to hear her and continued to stare at Miss Newfield.
“Well.” She shot a glance at Edmond. “We shall see if she suits.” She turned toward him. “I will forgive you for bringing servants into my drawing room because of these unusual circumstances. This one may help you.” She waved a hand at Matthews. “But only as long as you require his assistance. That one—” a sniff toward Mrs. Brown “—renowned seamstress or not, will remain in the servants’ quarters.” She strode to the bell pull beside the marble hearth and gave it a yank. “You will be in your old chambers. Mrs. Dobbins will assign a room to Miss Newman…Newmarket—”
“Newfield.” Edmond recognized his mother’s method of putting people in their places. That was her way, as if she alone guarded the social order of England. Clearly, she thought the great-granddaughter of a knight, whose descendants received no title or lands, did not warrant any amount of attention or respect.
“Yes,” she drawled. “I shall grant Newfield a time of trial. Should she prove inadequate, she will be sent away. Should she attempt to raise herself above her station, she will be turned out.”
Edmond saw alarm flicker in the young woman’s eyes, followed by a glint of courage as she recovered by force of will. The sight heartened him. She would need that strength in this house. “And her pay?”
Mother sniffed. “Pay? Humph. Her needs will be met. That is sufficient.”
Edmond ground his teeth at her stinginess. Nothing ever changed here. One would think he had gone out the front door just this morning and been in America for only a day.
Miss Newfield, however, curtseyed to his mother again. “Thank you, my lady. I am grateful.”
Mother reached out and lifted Miss Newfield’s chin. “Hmm. Your eyes are clear, your posture acceptable. Perhaps your youthful energies will be a welcome diversion. Peel never had energy. Do you ride, gel?”
“No, my lady.” Her tone held even.
Once again, Edmond’s approval soared. This gentlewoman was not easily intimidated.
“You will learn. Greystone’s groom will teach you,” Mother pronounced, then peered over her shoulder at Edmond.
He gave her his best smile. Unfortunately, it felt more like a grimace.
“Oh, do retire, Edmond, before you drop on my drawing room floor. I shall have supper sent up.”
“If you do not mind, madam, I should like to see Greystone.” Somehow he would manage to hold on if his eldest brother was about the manor house.
“He is out seeing to his tenants. I do not expect him back soon.”
“Permit me, sir.” Matthews nudged Edmond toward the door.
“Very well. In the morning, then.” With more than a little reluctance, Edmond gave his apologies and left Miss Newfield to the care of his mother, Lady Greystone, whom he and his brothers had sometimes referred to as Lady Gorgon when they were boys.
* * *
Anna watched Major Grenville and his batman move toward the drawing room door, her heart sinking lower with his every step. Upon their exit, the room seemed to grow colder. As if she shared the same sensation, Mrs. Brown moved closer, her plump arm cushioning Anna’s trembling one. Anna prayed her friend would not speak up to Lady Greystone, or speak at all, lest she cause an offense.
The people of Blandon had little to do with the aristocracy. Even Squire Beamish, a mere gentleman, rarely visited the village, although he was responsible for its care. Such neglect gave the denizens of the area a sense of independence, which Anna could now see had resulted in a certain ignorance about how to behave around the wellborn.
In truth, she herself knew very little about such manners except what her mother had taught her. But instinct kept her from addressing her new employer, who stood with arms crossed, tapping her foot on the colorful woven carpet that lay in front of the gleaming white marble hearth. Within minutes, a woman of perhaps fifty years entered the room, her footfalls making no sound on the wooden floor.
“Yes, Lady Greystone?” The woman wore a simple black woolen dress, and her greying brown hair was pulled severely into a bun at the nape of her neck. Her posture was rigid, her face an expressionless mask.
“This is Mrs. Dobbins, my housekeeper.” Lady Greystone glanced at Anna. “Mrs. Dobbins, this is Newfield, my new companion. You will give her Peel’s room.”
“Yes, my lady.” Mrs. Dobbins beckoned to Anna. “If you please, miss.” Her slight nod to Mrs. Brown was an order to follow her, as well.
Following the housekeeper, Anna wondered if she should offer some parting words of gratitude to Lady Greystone, but a glance over her shoulder revealed the viscountess making her own exit through a different door, which had been opened by a blue uniformed footman Anna had mistaken for a statue.
In the manor house’s front entryway, Mrs. Dobbins’s rigid posture relaxed considerably even as she retained a dignified carriage. So even the most powerful servant in the house feared Lady Greystone. Anna would not try to guess what challenges lay ahead. She prayed only that she would not disappoint Major Grenville and that his kindness to her would not cause a problem between him and his mother.
“Oh, Anna dear.” Mrs. Brown gazed around the large, dimly lit chamber. “Such a grand house, but there don’t seem to be much happiness here.”
“If you please.” Mrs. Dobbins gave Mrs. Brown a scorching look. “Servants do not speak unless addressed.”
“I ain’t no servant—”
Anna set a hand on her friend’s arm. “Thank you, Mrs. Dobbins. I am certain we have much to learn.”
“Just so, miss.” The woman began her ascent up the gracefully curved marble staircase. Her gnarled hands gripped the dark oak banister, and she pulled herself up each step.
Anna’s heart went out to the woman. It appeared her knees gave her much pain, as Father’s had toward the end of his life. Had Major Grenville experienced as much difficulty climbing this staircase with his wounded leg? Perhaps both would benefit from willow bark.
At the top of the stairs, Mrs. Dobbins indicated a long hallway on the right. “Do not enter that wing. Lord Greystone’s chambers are there, as are his brothers’. Follow me.” She marched stiffly down another hall, stopping at a wide white door. “This is Lady Greystone’s suite. You must not enter unless summoned.” Continuing on, she came to a smaller door across the hall. “Here is your room, miss.”
She led them inside where Anna gazed around in wonder. The chamber was half again larger than her old room at the vicarage. The furnishings were elegant but not lavish, with everything she would require to be comfortable: a four-poster bed covered with a green counterpane, a mahogany wardrobe and a wingchair. In addition, a tall window—or perhaps it was a door—promised sunny mornings, for she guessed it to be on the east side of the house. What more could she ask for?
“I will have your baggage brought up,” Mrs. Dobbins said. “If Lady Greystone wishes you to dine with the family tonight, she will send word. I shall send up supper if she does not ask for you.” She listed more rules of the house and imparted other essential information, while Anna wondered how she would remember it all.
After a tearful embrace, Anna said goodbye to Mrs. Brown. The dear lady would depart by early post the next morning, leaving Anna bereft of all she had ever known.
No, not bereft. In the scriptures, the Lord said He would never leave her nor forsake her. She would rest in that promise. And perhaps if she could see Major Grenville’s friendly smile from time to time, it would give her the strength to carry on in her new life.
Chapter Five
Edmond awoke to the midday sun streaming through the double glass doors leading to his balcony. He had slept long and well for the first time in years. No narrow army cots in tents that failed to keep out wind and rain. No ships’ berths on rolling seas. No lumpy mattresses in wayside inns. Amazing what one night of good rest could do for a man.
Across the room Matthews dozed in a chair, his uniform in surprisingly tidy condition. Had he risen early and made himself presentable in anticipation of Edmond’s needs?
As if his thoughts had sent out a signal, Matthews jerked awake and rubbed his eyes. “’Morning, sir.” He stood, tugged at his red jacket and lifted his eyebrows expectantly. “Good sleep?”
“Good, indeed.” Edmond stretched and yawned. “I suppose Greystone’s already had his morning ride.” He still was not certain he could ride, but he would attempt it to spend time with his brother away from the house.
Matthews chuckled. “Aye, sir. Twice.”
“Huh?” Edmond threw his legs over the side of the bed and snatched up his dressing gown. “What do you mean?” A few odd aches reminded him of his injuries, but not nearly as painfully as on the long trip home.
“You’ve slept since we arrived evening before last, sir.”
“What?” Edmond surrendered to the news by plopping back on the bed with a hearty laugh. Just as quickly, he shot to his feet, swaying a bit as he regained his balance. “What news of Miss Newfield?” More precisely, how had Mother treated her?
“Not much, sir. Below stairs says Lady Greystone hasn’t summoned her yet, so she’s kept to her room.”
“Uh-oh. Not good.” Edmond ran his hands over his face. “Let’s get me presentable so I can go find out what’s what.”
While Matthews called for water and laid out fresh clothing, Edmond opened the doors and stepped out onto the narrow balcony. The familiar meadows and distant woods dappled with autumn colors sent a vague pang of longing through him. He inhaled a deep breath of the crisp October air to bring his thoughts more into focus. Despite Mother’s sternness, she was not a beast. Nor was she forgetful. So why would she leave Miss Newfield in her room all this time? Old Miss Peel had been permitted to wander the house and grounds at will when Mother had no need of her companionship. Perhaps the young lady did not understand her privileges. Edmond slapped his forehead. He had indeed failed her by not informing her of what would be expected.
His gaze strayed toward the east wing of the L-shaped manor house, and something jolted in his chest. There stood Miss Newfield on her balcony, her black mourning weeds blowing about her in the mild wind. Across the distance he could not quite make out the expression on her fair face, but her straight posture gave no indication of misery. Considering what he had witnessed of her character so far, he should have had more faith in her ability to cope, no matter what the circumstances.
She turned his way and lifted a hand to wave at him. Now he could make out a smile, and he waved back. Admiration and satisfaction filled him. She was faring well in spite of her solitude. He could ask for nothing more.
* * *
Anna wondered whether she had erred by waving first, but in her happiness at seeing Major Grenville, her hand seemed to lift of its own accord. Apparently he did not find her greeting inappropriate, for his broad smile reflected her own. Then, noticing that his dark red clothing was not his uniform but a dressing gown, heat rushed to her cheeks. Perhaps aristocrats had different customs regarding what was appropriate to wear out of doors. She offered a tentative parting wave and returned to her bedchamber.
Her foolishness struck her immediately, for her balcony seemed an extension of this room. No doubt the major felt the same way about his childhood quarters, so of course he would step outside upon waking. Had she not done the same thing these two mornings? She prayed his smile was an indicator that his health was already improving.
Taking a seat in the upholstered wingchair beside the bed, she picked up Papá’s Bible and resumed a search she had begun the day before. Surely some scriptural example could help her discover how to be useful in this household, but until she understood her employer, she could not be certain her actions would be appropriate. Lady Greystone had not sent for her, and Mrs. Dobbins had made it clear she was not to leave until summoned. Thus she had remained in the room, reading her Bible and praying for Lady Greystone, Lord Greystone, kind Major Grenville and all of the dear people she had left behind. And of course Peter, healing somewhere in the vast wilderness called America.
“Miss Newfield?” The call through her door was followed by a scratch, and she set aside her Bible to cross the chamber and open the door.
“Good morning, Johnson.” Anna gave the butler a welcoming smile. Other than the little chambermaid who brought hot water each morning, he was the only person she had seen, and only when he brought her meals. But this time he brought no tray, and Anna’s stomach rumbled a quiet protest.
“Lady Greystone requires your presence in the breakfast room.” The man’s formal facade never wavered. “If you would follow me, please.”
“Oh, yes.” Excitement, gratitude…and a hint of fear…swept through Anna. At last she would learn about her duties. “Thank you.” She felt a mad impulse to ask the butler whether her appearance was acceptable, but refrained.
Johnson started down the hallway, but uncertainty drew Anna to the long mirror on her wardrobe door for a quick inspection. She touched the high collar of her black bombazine gown and checked the tidiness of her hair, which was pulled into a soft bun a little less severe than Mrs. Dobbins’s. Mamá’s silver and sapphire pin was her only adornment, but at the last moment she removed it and stored it in the drawer of her dressing table, lest it be considered improper for mourning.
She hurried out of her room, but the butler had vanished. Walking in the direction he had gone, she hoped memory served correctly and she would find the front stairway around the corner. Her weariness two nights ago had prevented her from making sufficient mental notes about her surroundings, which would be humorous under other circumstances. But she certainly did not wish to get lost in this great house.
She turned the corner and entered a broad space that indeed led to the stairs. Relieved, she strode across the patterned runner, hoping to see the butler descending the staircase.
“Miss Newfield.”
The call came from her left. She turned to see Major Grenville walking slowly toward her, cane in hand and Matthews at his side. The major’s color had greatly improved, as had his posture. His uniform of a red jacket and white breeches appeared spotless. Morning light shone through tall windows across from the landing and glinted off his black boots, which were polished to a brilliant sheen. As he came near, she was reminded of his height, and her awe increased. What a fine-looking soldier. With some difficulty, she tamped down the giddiness stirring within her as he approached.
“Major Grenville, how well you look.”
“As do you.” His smile gladdened her heart. “What do you think of the Lodge? Has anyone taken you out to see the gardens and the park yet?”
“I, um…” As they walked side by side to the wide staircase and began their descent, Anna searched for a response that would not cast aspersions on his mother. “Lady Greystone has just now sent for me and—”
“So it’s true?” He stopped suddenly and seemed about to pitch forward.
“Easy, sir.” Matthews was beside him, ready to assist.
Anna stopped, too, and heat rushed to her cheeks. But what else could she have said?
