A Most Unconventional Match (16 page)

Perhaps it was just that her body, after slumbering for months in grief and distress, was suddenly awakening. She'd had no physical intimacy since Everitt's death, of course, and very little in the six months preceding it.

But the prospect of intimacy, the way she felt when near Everitt, had never elicited the strength and violence of the response she'd experienced today. Could it be that, older and more experienced now than the timid virgin she'd been upon her marriage, she felt physical desire more strongly?

How she wished Sarah was here. She'd always been able to ask her wise older sister's advice on everything. Though, to be honest, she wasn't sure she could ask even Sarah about this.

Thinking about Mr Waterman made her feel at once protected, safe, secure, and jittery, impatient…and attracted. She wasn't sure whether it would be wise to see more of him, to discover if these odd, contradictory sensations would abate, or avoid him.

But she didn't want to avoid him. Nor, with him not yet finished the paperwork of Everitt's estate, would that be practical.

Thinking about her attraction no longer made her feel as guilty as it first had. She'd loved Everitt with all her heart, still missed his smile, his wry humour, his gentle touch. He and David had been the entire focus of her world.

But she was beginning to see that in cherishing her, he'd also kept her sheltered from the world, dependent upon him by bonds of affection that were none the less tethers. Handling every worldly detail for her, he'd shielded her from grief and distress, but also from responsibility, excitement and opportunity. Though he'd known her since she was a child, watched the progress of her skill as a painter for many years, never once had he suggested that her talent deserved a broader, more public exposure.

He'd never even taken her to visit the exhibition at the Royal Academy, something Mr Waterman had realised after a mere ten days of acquaintance would thrill her to the very core.

She thought again of the financial tangles in which Everitt had left the estate, his not appointing a solicitor competent to manage his affairs. Of course, he'd not thought having such a solicitor would be so soon a necessity. The fact that he'd apparently borrowed money against David's inheritance to fund his passion for collecting didn't lessen her affection for him, but it did make her realise that he was not the infallible judge of everything she'd long thought him.

It also made her just a bit impatient and more than a little curious to explore the world outside the cocoon in which she'd been living.

After the proper interval, she also wanted to explore more fully the novel feelings Hal Waterman inspired. She knew beyond doubt that, whatever his faults, Everitt had loved her deeply. He would neither expect nor want her to shut herself away in his house, making it a mausoleum to his memory. When the time for mourning was done, he would want her to survive, endure and go on.

With Hal Waterman as her guide into the world beyond grief, she thought, looking up at the framed pastel sketch of her son that hung over her mantel, forging a new life was beginning to seem more and more possible.

Did she have the talent to succeed as an artist? Could she get her work accepted for showing by the Royal Academy? A swell of pride and enthusiasm filled her at the idea of being recognised, even earning money, for doing what she loved. There were women artists in the Academy exhibition, Hal had told her. Could she be one of them?

Despite her excitement, she wasn't at all sure she could. But in the afterglow of this wonderful afternoon, with the reassurance of not having to part yet with David, for the first time in her life, Elizabeth Lowery felt she just might be capable of such a challenge.

I
nspired by her Royal Academy visit, Elizabeth went to her workroom even earlier the next morning, eager to explore in her own study of the swirling mist some of the translucent technique she'd observed in Mr Turner's painting of the storm clouds.

She also hoped by beginning early to have finished her work for the day before nuncheon so she might stop by the library and catch Hal Waterman before he departed. After the closeness and camaraderie of yesterday's excursion, perhaps this time if she pressed him to stay and eat with them, he might accept.

She had just finished mixing her oils when an insistent knocking at the study door pulled her out of her contemplation of the unfinished composition. Annoyed at the interruption, she looked up to see Sands striding in.

‘What is it?' she asked, trying to keep the impatience from her voice.

‘It's your maid, Gibbons. I discovered her skulking around my quarters. I've not yet done a complete inspection, so cannot be sure if anything is missing.'

The concept of how she would proceed with her brush dissolved as she stared in consternation at the butler. ‘You think Gibbons meant to steal something from you?'

‘I cannot imagine what other object she might have for lingering by my room. There's no reason for any female servants to be there.' Sands shook his head. ‘I warned you when you brought her from the country that it would have been better to let me hire someone from an agency.'

‘Gibbons is the younger sister of a maid at Wellingford Manor,' Elizabeth protested. Knowing after her marriage she would live mostly in London, she'd wanted to bring with her someone as fond of her country home as she was, rather than employ a city girl who might scorn Elizabeth's unfashionable rural preferences. ‘My sister Meredyth would not tolerate a thief in her employ.'

‘Perhaps the sister is more honest. But I would strongly recommend that you dismiss the girl and let me engage someone whose references can be checked.'

Theft in a household was a serious offence. On the other hand, there was as yet no proof a theft had occurred, nor did Elizabeth wish to dismiss someone who had served her for seven years as competently and cheerfully as Gibbons simply on Sands's suspicion. She should at least hear her maid's side of the story.

But, oh, how she hated dealing with disputes! Miss Lowery had always handled disagreements among the staff, Everitt stepping in to make a final decision if necessary.

For an instant Elizabeth considered asking Amelia to assist her. But with her health so fragile, Everitt's cousin did not need to have her still-uncertain recovery disrupted by this, particularly as it might make her feel she must leave her sickbed prematurely to resume management of a household Elizabeth did not wish to handle.

Acutely conscious of her painting time ticking away, Elizabeth said, ‘Have you spoken with her about this?'

‘To what purpose? She would certainly deny it.'

‘That may be true, but I would like to hear what she has to say.'

The butler nodded stiffly. ‘I had hoped, ma'am, that you would assume I make the well being of this household my first concern. My late master certainly did. However, if you insist upon speaking with Gibbons, I shall summon her.'

Sighing, Elizabeth watched him walk out. By not immediately following the butler's recommendation, she'd apparently offended him. Since, as the senior servant in the house, his disgruntlement could affect all the others, she would have to find some way to appease him. But surely Gibbons was entitled to speak on her own behalf?

If she dismissed the girl, she would have to tolerate having someone new and unfamiliar inhabiting her private rooms. If she did not dismiss the maid, Sands would clearly be unhappy.

Regardless of what she decided, there was likely to be some lingering perturbation in the household.

While she worried over how to satisfactorily resolve the squabble, a knock at the door announced that the moment to attempt that feat had arrived. Trying to put aside her distaste for dealing with the matter and assume a confident manner she was far from feeling, she bade them enter.

Under Sands's cold glare, Gibbons walked in and curtsied. ‘I be so very sorry to disturb you, ma'am. But, Mrs Lowery, you know I would never steal from nobody!'

‘I don't think you would. But why were you lingering near Sands's room?'

Her eyes studying Elizabeth's face, Gibbons opened her mouth, then closed it. After casting a glance at Sands, she finally said, ‘I never meant no harm. Just wanting to watch out for you and the young master…no matter what someone else might think.'

‘And that is all you have to say?' From the girl's manner, Elizabeth suspected there must be more that, for whatever reason, Gibbons seemed reluctant to share.

‘Yes, ma'am.'

‘Then you may go. I'll speak with you later.'

After bobbing another curtsy, Gibbons walked out, carefully avoiding the butler's hostile gaze. Once the door had closed behind her, Elizabeth asked Sands, ‘Have you determined whether or not anything is missing?'

‘Nothing that I could tell…yet,' he conceded.

‘Then I cannot see how, in fairness, I can dismiss Gibbons. Perhaps she has her eye on one of the footman and was lingering below stairs hoping to meet him.'

‘Immorality is no more acceptable in a female than thievery,' Sands said repressively. ‘I still urge you to consider replacing her at once.'

‘But in her years with this household, Gibbons has not been proven to possess either fault. Much as I respect your opinion, I cannot feel it proper to take any further action against her now. Of course, I shall watch her closely, as I am sure you will continue to do. I assure you, I do value everything you do for this family.'

Sands's stiff bow of acknowledgement told her he wasn't mollified. ‘Very well, madam. I hope nothing untoward comes of your indulgence. By the way, Miss Lowery asked if she might have a word with you.'

For a moment, Elizabeth closed her eyes in frustration. Everything seemed to be conspiring against her accomplishing what she intended at her easel this morning. But despite her eagerness to get to her work, she would never keep the gentle Amelia waiting. ‘Tell her I will come up at once.'

Wondering what Everitt's cousin wished to say that could not wait until the tea they normally shared in the afternoon, Elizabeth took off her apron and mounted the stairs to Miss Lowery's room.

She walked in to find Miss Lowery sitting in a chair, her eyes alert and her colour much improved. ‘Good morning, dear Amelia. How wonderful to see the roses finally returned to your cheeks!' Elizabeth exclaimed, heartened to see her looking so well. ‘You are better, I see.'

‘Oh, yes,' the thin, grey-haired lady replied. ‘Improving every day. I did miss our tea yesterday. Did you enjoy your outing?'

Was Amelia feeling neglected? Elizabeth wondered with a little pang of guilt. ‘Yes, it was wonderful! I'm sorry we returned too late for tea. Oh, I wish you could have seen how David enjoyed himself at Astley's! Afterwards, Mr Waterman suggested we stop by the Royal Academy to view their permanent collection, which was magnificent—and so inspiring. By then David was hungry, so we stopped for meat pies before coming home.'

‘David has already visited me this morning, still in raptures over the trip and the wonderful Mr Waterman.' Amelia looked down, fidgeting with the robe covering her lap. ‘You may think it's not my place to say so, and you might well be right, but I can't help feeling it isn't wise for you to…to be keeping company with a gentleman so soon after Everitt's passing.'

Anger and a fierce resentment boiled up, surprising in its intensity. Struggling to master it, she said stiffly, ‘I am not “keeping company” with Mr Waterman. Neither David nor I have been anywhere since the funeral. David is just a child, and, though he misses his father keenly, he cannot be cooped up indoors for ever, so when Mr Waterman was kind enough to suggest the excursion, I had no reservations about accepting. I hope you are not suggesting—'

‘Oh, no!' Amelia said quickly. ‘I know how much you loved Everitt.' Her eyes welled up and she dabbed at them with a handkerchief. ‘How I still miss him!'

Elizabeth's anger softened. ‘I miss him, too,' she said quietly.

Amelia nodded. ‘I know, it's silly of me to worry. But when Sands told me you wouldn't be back for tea, and that when you did finally return, Mr Waterman accompanied you into your studio, the two of you lingering there alone for some time, and darkness falling…Well, it did concern me. I wouldn't wish you to place yourself in a situation that might cause talk among the servants.'

Since when was it Sands's business to carry tales? Elizabeth thought, her anger reviving. ‘You may remember that Mr Waterman is the dearest friend of Lord Englemere, my sister's husband. Acting in Englemere's stead, he has been of great help in sorting through estate papers, which, I have to say, Everitt had left in some disarray. There is no impropriety in his “lingering”, as you put it, or even staying to dine with David and me, though he has declined to do so until you are well enough to accompany us. Thereby, I believe, showing an utmost respect for proper behaviour.'

‘I am relieved to hear it.' Anxiously Amelia patted Elizabeth's hand. ‘Please don't be displeased with me! But we both have so little experience of the world. I don't want you, in your innocence, to allow Mr Waterman to press you into a closer acquaintance that society at large might take amiss.'

The boot was rather on the other foot, Elizabeth thought. If Miss Lowery had any inkling of the exceedingly
improper
feelings Elizabeth had been entertaining towards Hal Waterman, she would faint dead away.

Guilt scoured her anew, along with a furious resentment. She had grieved and she still mourned. The outing yesterday and, yes, even her turbulent feelings for Mr Waterman had inspired her for the first time since her husband's death with a sense of excitement and anticipation, a hope that the future might offer new opportunities, fulfilment…even love.

Though she would not, until the proper time, explore or act upon the unprecedented sensations that drew her to Hal Waterman, neither did she intend to avoid his company. Regardless of the apparent disapproval of her husband's butler or mutterings among the staff.

‘You aren't angry with me for speaking of this, are you?' Amelia asked, recalling Elizabeth's attention.

She forced a smile. As attached as Amelia had been to the cousin who had given her a home and a sense of purpose, Miss Lowery would probably never look favourably upon any man who seemed to be intruding upon the place Everitt had held in David's life—or her own. In Amelia's situation, she conceded, she would probably react the same.

‘No, of course not. I know you speak out of love.' Though that didn't make her advice any more palatable.

‘Well, I expect you'll be wanting to get back to your work. You will come by later for tea? I'll look forward to visiting with you then.'

After giving Miss Lowery a hug, Elizabeth proceeded back towards her studio. Though the anticipation and excitement she'd felt earlier had by now dissipated, perhaps she could still accomplish something useful.

She paused by the library door, a little thrill passing through her at the thought that Mr Waterman might even now be seated behind the desk. Before she could succumb to the urge to peep inside and see, a footman trotted up and handed her a message.

Her heart leapt again at the bold, masculine scrawl in which her name had been penned on the outside. She tore open the seal, her anticipation fading as she read the short note in which, begging her pardon for the short notice, Mr Waterman wrote that unexpected business had arisen that would prevent his calling upon them today.

The titillation of holding in her hand something that had been penned by his was offset by the disappointment of knowing she would not see him after all. With a sigh, she refolded the note and proceeded toward her studio.

No need now to rush to her easel. Which was just as well, as the enthusiasm that had energised her when she mixed her paints an hour ago had wholly deserted her.

She'd just reached the studio door when Mrs Graham, the housekeeper, approached at a brisk pace. ‘I'm glad I caught you!' she said, dropping a curtsy. ‘There's been quite a commotion in the laundry. That…animal of young Master David's got into the back garden and ran after the sheets hanging on the line, tearing several to shreds! Being that we was short on linens anyway, I'll need you to give Sands some coin to purchase more material at once.'

Closing her eyes with a sigh, Elizabeth wondered what else could go wrong. As far as her work was concerned, this day that had begun with such anticipation was looking to become a complete loss.

With resignation, she led Mrs Graham to the bookroom and retrieved Everitt's strongbox, then counted out the staggering sum the housekeeper said would be required to purchase the new linens. Her small remaining stock was nearly exhausted. She knew little about wills beyond the fact that they often took months to probate. In that case, she probably should ask Mr Waterman to begin selling some of Everitt's statues, lest they run out of cash altogether.