The Rescue (11 page)

“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.

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.”