The Rescue (10 page)

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Authors: Lori Wick

BOOK: The Rescue
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“Baby Liz is crying!” Meg announced, running to Anne where she worked at the stove.

“I hear that,” Anne answered calmly. “Shall we check on her?”

This time Anne was able to creep into the room, take the howling Liz from her cradle, and leave Lucy asleep. The night’s work had finally caught up with the new mother, and she was sleeping soundly.

Meg started to cry when Anne changed Liz’s wet clothing. The baby was turning red in an effort to be heard, and Anne laughed at the two of them.

“Well, this sounds interesting.” Billy had come in the door and spoke from behind Anne.

“Oh, Billy,” Anne said on another laugh, “will you comfort Meg and tell her that Liz is fine? She seems to think she needs to commiserate.”

Billy was smiling hugely when he scooped his two-year-old into his arms and let her bawl against his shoulder.

“How’s Lucy?”

“Sleeping soundly,” Anne told him as she transferred the now-dry baby to her shoulder. “I’m going to get a little sugar water into this one and see if I can’t buy Lucy a little more sleep.”

“You’re a treasure, Anne.”

“Do you think?” Anne teased him.

Billy ducked his head, a bit of his old shyness surfacing, before turning to comfort his daughter.

“I saw a kitten today,” he said, attempting to distract her.

Meg turned to look at her father. She sniffed, but the tears were abating. The two sat at the table, Meg on the table surface and Billy in a chair, facing each other so they could talk.

Anne settled Liz by dipping a soft towel into sugar water so she could suck, and when she seemed satisfied, rocked her back to sleep. She put her in a basket nearby and then readied lunch to go on the table.

The simple everyday action caused her to wonder if her father was getting his meals. In the past he’d fared well on his own, but she wasn’t so confident now that he’d hurt his leg.

He always lands on his feet,
Anne reminded herself, knowing it was wrong to worry.

Had Anne’s friends—especially those from the church family—known the direction of her thoughts, they would have advised her as they had in the past: to see to her own needs more often.

Weston went home by way of the church. It wasn’t actually on the way home, but he’d not met Pastor Hurst on Sunday and wanted to rectify that before he attended church again.

Pastor Hurst was in his study and heard the church door opening. He met Weston halfway up the aisle.

“Welcome.”

“Thank you. It’s Pastor Hurst, isn’t it?”

“Yes. Did I see you in the back row last Sunday?”

“Yes, I was here. Robert Weston.”

The men shook hands before Pastor invited Weston to join him in his study. That book-lined room was warm and comfortable, and Weston felt remarkably at ease.

“I’ve just moved onto my grandmother’s estate, Brown Manor,” Weston explained.

“How is your family doing with Mrs Dixon’s passing?”

“Well, thank you. It was not unexpected, and she left her daughter, my mother, well provided for.”

“Through you, Mr Weston, or is there an older son?”

“No, I’m an only child.”

Pastor nodded, hoping that this young man would talk about his first days here but knowing that some type of relationship might need to be established for that.

“My visit today is twofold in purpose,” Weston said. “I didn’t have a chance to meet you on Sunday, something I wanted to do, and I also wanted to ask about someone I believe to be part of your parish.”

“All right.”

“Do you know Anne Gardiner?”

“I do, yes. She is a part of our church family.”

Weston nodded, feeling some relief.

“Miss Gardiner was one of the first people I met when I arrived, but it was under rather trying circumstances. I was hoping you could tell me if she is well.”

“She’s fine, Mr Weston, but I think it only fair to tell you that she informed us of her predicament.”

Weston nodded, his face pained. “It was most unexpected. If I had it to do over again, I hope I would do things differently, but I must admit that it came as quite a surprise.”

“Are
you
all right, Mr Weston?” the kind pastor asked.

Weston laughed a little. “At times I’m still trying to believe this marriage actually happened. It was all rather dreamlike, if you catch my meaning.”

“I do indeed, Mr Weston. The Colonel is not a well man. If you haven’t dealt with him, it can be most alarming.”

“But Miss Gardiner does it every day.”

The pastor smiled before saying, “Miss Gardiner is a very special person. She looks like a stiff wind could carry her away, but she’s actually very strong—on the inside, where it counts.”

“I’m glad to hear she’s well.”

“She tends to be rather protective,” Pastor added next, working to be as subtle as possible. “She tends to put the needs of others above her own, sometimes to a fault.”

Weston nodded, finding that easy to believe. In his short acquaintance with Anne, he saw that she was very kind and unassuming.

“My man dropped her at the manse last week. Is she still staying with you?”

“No, she’s gone home.”

“And her father, is he well?”

“I assume so. I’ve not heard otherwise.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Weston said, making to rise. “Thank you for taking the time to see me.”

“My pleasure. Will we see you on Sunday?”

“I’m planning to be here, yes.”

“We’ll look forward to it.”

Pastor Hurst saw Weston out to his carriage, all the while asking himself if he should have been more blunt. He waved the younger man off, knowing he was completely unaware of the way Anne’s reputation had suffered from the incident, and that Anne herself was protecting him without regard for her own standing in the community.

It was with a prayerful heart—one that fervently asked God to make heads or tails of everything that had happened—that Pastor Hurst returned to his study to work on his upcoming sermon.

Levens Crossing

“Father, are you here?” Anne called to the empty house on Saturday afternoon. She received no answer. The stove in the kitchen was cold, and the rooms had an empty feel to them.

Knowing her father would return in his own good time, Anne began to make the house homey again. She fixed a meal with the stores she found in the pantry and brewed a large pot of tea. She had only just finished with her meal, deciding a bath was in order next, when someone knocked.

“Well, Emma,” Anne said with pleasure. “How nice to see you.”

“We’re all here,” Emma Palmer informed her. “Everyone but mother and Frank.”

“Come in. Come in,” Anne welcomed, glad to have visitors.

“Hello, Anne,” Palmer greeted her. “How are you?”

“I’m well. Please sit down, everyone. Make yourselves comfortable.”

“We heard you were in town with Lucy Digby,” Palmer said from the davenport. “How is she?”

“She’s well, and the baby is precious.”

“What did they name her?”

“Liz.”

“Did you hear that, Lizzy?” He turned to his daughter. “Another Liz!”

“Is she a good baby?” Lizzy wished to know.

“Very good. She slept almost all night last night.”

The children smiled at her, and Anne was reminded of their mother.

“How is your mother?” she asked.

“Tired,” Walt gave this information matter-of-factly.

“Is she getting some extra rest?”

“Father says she must.”

Anne smiled down at Walt and then over at Palmer, who smiled back.

“And tell me, Palmer, how is your sister-in-law faring?”

“Marianne’s well and very calm. Jennings is a bit hen-ish about the whole thing, but Marianne keeps on and he keeps trailing after her. Come and see us, Anne,” Palmer slipped these words in at the last minute.

“As soon as I can, Palmer,” Anne said, her voice soft with conviction.

Palmer’s look told her he wanted it to be today, but with the children sitting among them, he let the matter drop.

“Emma,” Palmer turned to his youngest. “Did you give Anne the basket?”

“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.

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