The Rescue (5 page)

The first mirror Anne polished in the downstairs hall looked spectacular, until she dropped her eyes to her own reflection and winced with regret. Time in front of the mirror had not been a high priority in the last few days. Anne knew that it would be obvious to anyone who looked at her.

“Oh, well, keep going,” she said quietly to herself, and moved to the next gilt frame. She was half done with it when movement in the glass told her someone had come up behind her. In the mirror she met the gaze of the man she’d “married.” Her heart plummeting to her toes, she turned, keeping her back to the wall as she balled the cleaning rag in her fist.

Weston came a bit closer but saw the uncertainty in her eyes and kept some distance between them.

“I stopped at your home but found it empty.”

“Did you?” Anne asked, her voice a little breathless.

“Miss?”

“Gardiner.”

“Miss Gardiner,” Weston started kindly, “I can’t tell you how sorry I am to have left you here the way I did. Truly, I never wished for you to work. I deeply regret my words and actions.”

“Please, Mr Weston,” Anne cut in, “it is I who owe you such a great apology. I’m so sorry for all you had to go through. Father is not a well man, and I feared you would be harmed. I wish I could have presented another way, but he was most determined.”

Weston nodded, not certain what to say next. The woman before him looked exhausted. He had not taken time to look around when he’d dropped her off, but if she’d been cleaning since he left, she was quite naturally spent.

“Mansfield tells me you’ve been working.”

Anne looked away.

“I felt it was the least I could do.”

“I’m sorry I placed that burden on you. Please allow me to take you home, Miss Gardiner.”

“Weston?” a soft feminine voice floated to the couple from around the corner, coming from the entryway that led to the front door.

“Henrietta,” Weston breathed softly, the woman before him forgotten. Without a glance in Anne’s direction, he moved toward the voice.

“Weston!” the woman cried in delight.

“Henrietta! What are you doing here?”

“I’ve missed you so.”

That was all Anne stayed for. Slipping down the hallway and finding the stairs, she set her cleaning supplies on a table in the kitchen. Mansfield was nowhere to be seen, but that didn’t stop her. She went to the door, skirted the large manor house, and started up the driveway that led to the road. It was time to go home.

“Weston?” Henrietta asked cautiously, realizing she was hugging him but not being hugged in return.

“How are you, Henrietta?” Weston asked with more calm than he felt, his hands still at his sides.

“I’m well. I missed you. Did you not miss me?”

Weston hesitated. He had only just remembered the way he’d left Anne in the hallway, and for a moment was bereft of words.

“It’s nice of you to stop by,” Weston finally managed, sounding inane even to his own ears.

“Stop by?” Henrietta said on a laugh. “I’m here for a visit. Surely you didn’t think otherwise.”

“That’s impossible, Henrietta.” Weston felt he had to be direct. “The house is not ready for guests, and on top of that, I’m here alone.”

Henrietta’s look turned playful. She walked around her host, her eyes taking in every detail of Brown Manor.

“Things don’t look needy in the least, Weston,” Henrietta said as she walked away from him. “Why don’t you ring for tea and invite me to join you?”

Weston trailed in Henrietta’s wake, knowing that for the moment he would simply do as she asked. His head turned in all directions for a glimpse of Anne, but he didn’t spot her.

Once in the square salon, Weston rang for Mansfield. That man found him less than two minutes later, and Weston requested tea.

“Mansfield bringing the tea? When you have a guest? You
are
alone here.”

Weston didn’t answer. Henrietta pretended not to notice and began to study the room.

“I remember visiting here with you when we were children, Weston. I was so thrilled to hear you were moving to Brown Manor.”

“I heard you had moved to France.”

“That’s true,” Henrietta said, some of the pleasure missing from her voice. “I didn’t expect to miss London as I do.”

Silence fell thick and uncomfortable between them. Henrietta had pictured Weston nothing like this, and Weston remembered her as being quite different.

“Why have you come, Henrietta?” Weston put it on the line as soon as Mansfield had served them and vacated the room.

Henrietta put her cup aside. She stood and moved to the window. She spoke with her eyes on the prospect beyond.

“Andre has asked me to marry him. I wanted to say yes, but you kept coming to mind.” Henrietta looked back at Weston. “I began to doubt my reasons for breaking off with you. I wanted to see you so badly. I told Andre that I couldn’t marry him until I was sure.”

“And are you certain now?”

Henrietta shook her head miserably.

“You’re not the same, Weston. You were supposed to still love me.”

“It’s been a year, Henrietta,” he said reasonably. “And you were the one who left me. I have no wish to be cruel, but how could I trust you to know your feelings from this time forward? You’re seeing this Andre chap now, but after you left me I heard that Perry was pursuing you and that you were not running.”

Henrietta looked guilty and miserable at the same time.

“I’ll always care, Henrietta,” Weston said quietly. “But I can’t trust my heart in your hands—they’re much too careless.”

The woman across from him bit her lip and turned back to the window to compose herself. Weston had not wanted to hurt her, but he felt he must be honest.

“I think I must go,” Henrietta said after some moments of quiet. She turned to look at Weston now, seeming to be in control once again. “I believe I’ll go on to Bath for a few weeks. My aunt is still there and wrote me recently.”

“Give her my greetings,” Weston said, wanting to set their relationship back on a kind footing, but even as he said this, something came to mind, something that Henrietta had said to him when she’d broken off the relationship.

“Have you found a good church in France, Henrietta?”

In the front hall and nearly to the door, she stopped, looking surprised.

“I haven’t looked. Why do you ask?”

“I just recall something you said to me many months ago. I’d not thought of it until this moment, but now I’m wondering what you meant when you said it would never work between us since I took religion more seriously than you did. I barely heard you at the time, but now I do wonder what you meant.”

“It’s not complex, Weston,” she told him, a bit of irritation showing. “Your very question just now proves my point. Of all the things you could ask me, you speak of religion!”

“Not religion, Henrietta, but of being involved and a part of a church body. How else is one to grow and change to be like Christ?”

This statement, although said kindly, seemed to agitate Henrietta in a way that Weston had never seen before. He watched as her chin went in the air and her eyes raked him.

“I can see now that you think yourself somehow superior to me. I never noticed that about you before, Weston, but I’m very glad I saw it in time.”

“That’s enough, Henrietta,” Weston said, his voice still quiet and calm. “We both know that this is between you and God. Do not start hurling accusations at me to make yourself feel better.”

Henrietta had the good grace to look shamed.

“I’m going now, Weston,” she said, all fire gone, her eyes not meeting his. “I wish it could have been different between us, but I can see now that it would never work.”

“Please take care of yourself, Henrietta, and know you’re in my prayers.”

This was too much. Henrietta bit her lip and dashed for the door. Weston’s heart broke over her upset, but he couldn’t see any way around it. She was still so lovely, but she was not the woman for him. That was only too obvious now.

“You rescued me, Lord,” Weston stood in his place in the entryway and prayed in wonder and awe. “I ached for Henrietta when she left, fully believing she loved You as I do, but You knew. You took her away with her fickle heart and saved me heartbreak. Thank You, Father. I still hurt. I still care for her. But she doesn’t love You, not as she needs to, and a union between us would have been a disaster.”

Weston’s hand went to the back of his neck. Relieved as he was, he suddenly realized he was tired. He leaned against the wall, starting to wonder if moving to Brown Manor had been a good idea. That thought only lasted a moment. He had a townhouse in London, but this was the first time he’d ever lived in a home of his own.

Weston began to walk slowly down the hall. The detail and layout of this house were favorites of his. The hallways were low-ceilinged, making the first step into high-ceilinged rooms all the grander. The carpets were intricately patterned and still in fine shape. He suspected that the last tenants had done some painting, and he planned right then to continue wherever there was a need. His own furnishings would be coming as soon as he sent for them, but there would also be plenty of time to shop and add things to his liking.

And everything was so clean! Mansfield had certainly been busy. Weston wondered if he’d found help from the village. The thought stopped the owner of Brown Manor in his tracks. Anne! Where had she gone? Had she done all of this cleaning on her own? He must find Mansfield and gain some answers.

“Mansfield!” Weston called, finally running him to earth in the kitchen.

“Did you ring for me, sir?” that servant asked plainly, not having ever heard Weston shouting for him.

“Where is Anne? I mean, Miss Gardiner?”

“I believe she may have left, sir.”

“Are you sure of this?”

“I am not. I was unwilling to search for her while you still had a guest.”

“Miss Rooke has left. Let us ascertain whether Miss Gardiner is still on the premises and then go after her if she is not.”

“Very well. I shall ready the carriage and prepare something for her to eat and drink.”

“Did she not eat today?”

“Not since breakfast early this morning.”

Weston forced himself to remain calm as he looked around, calling Anne’s name from time to time. When he gained the kitchen again ten minutes later, he saw what Mansfield had seen some time earlier: Anne’s polish and cleaning rag had been left on the table.

“Are you ready?” Weston asked of Mansfield, clearly eager to be off.

Mansfield was not one to keep his master waiting. They left just moments later.

Chapter Three

Anne was off the road and sitting in the shade of a tree when Weston and Mansfield went past in Weston’s large, open carriage. It was disheartening to say the least, but she had resigned herself to walking and would continue to do so as soon as the sun dropped a bit more. She would barely make it home before dark and would have no choice but to stay there overnight, but hopefully her father would have forgotten the events of the last week.

Anne thought about lying down but suddenly heard another carriage, this time from the direction of town. When she saw that it was Weston again, she stood but remained under the tree. As she watched, the carriage pulled off and both men alighted. Weston started toward her, and Mansfield came as soon as he had gathered a hamper and blanket.

“Hello, Miss Gardiner. Are you well?”

“Yes, thank you.”

“May I join you?”

“Certainly.”

“This is a fine spot,” Weston proclaimed, his head tipping back to see the trees just as Mansfield began to lay out the blanket.

“Are you having a picnic?” Anne asked of him, stepping aside so the blanket could be smoothed at the corner; it had been literally laid at her feet.

“
We,
Miss Gardiner,
we
are having a picnic. Mansfield tells me you have not eaten recently, and my last meal is but a memory, so we shall partake. Then I will deliver you in the carriage to wherever you wish to go.”

“That’s very kind of you, Mr Weston, but you didn’t have to bother.”