The Rescue (8 page)

“Is it that bad, Palmer?”

“Yes. Pastor even addressed the issue before the congregation,” Palmer said, before giving her a brief account.

Lydia looked crestfallen.

“Does she think that we—” Lydia began, but Palmer shook his head.

“No, but she’s being protective of us and would not be swayed.”

“What are we to do?”

“We’re going to go on praying for her and keep befriending her. Maybe the children and I should stop by Levens Crossing and pay a visit this week.”

“She’s not at the manse?”

“Not after today. Her father was staying in town, but he’s going home tomorrow and she’ll go and be with him.”

“Did the Colonel remember?”

“Not a thing.”

Lydia shook her head, still a little amazed by Anne’s eccentric father.

“We had a visitor this morning, a Mr Weston. He came in rather late and sat in the rear.”

“You met him?”

“Yes, he’s Alice Dixon’s grandson. He’s moved into Brown Manor.”

Lydia was opening her mouth to ask another question but stopped. Palmer watched her.

“What exactly do we know about the man Anne was forced to marry? Did any further information come out this morning?”

“No.”

Lydia looked at her husband.

“Would a man who’d been through that sort of ordeal actually come to church in this community without a qualm?”

“That all depends on the circumstances, and we don’t know those.”

“But you wondered about it as well, didn’t you, Palmer?”

“I admit I did, but only for Anne’s sake.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that Anne has been very closemouthed about this, which leads me to believe she’s protecting someone. I’m not sure she would do that if the man in question was passing through. Now Mr Weston moves into the area just after the occurrence. You and I are doing our speculating behind closed doors; others will not be so discreet. They will think they’ve figured it out and be very vocal about it…”

“And Anne’s reputation will suffer all the more,” Lydia finished for him.

Palmer only nodded, his face grim. The couple was quiet for a few moments before Palmer suggested they pray. Before they had a chance, however, the children came to check on their mother.

The Manse

“Here, John,” Anne offered the youngest Hurst child. “Let me hold that bowl for you.”

“Thank you,” the five-year-old answered politely while he scooped some potatoes onto his plate.

“I understand you have some good news,” Anne prompted.

The little boy nodded, a smile coming to his face.

“Margaret is coming home on Wednesday. Jane too!”

Anne smiled at his enthusiasm. Margaret was eight and Jane was 11, and clearly the little boy had missed his sisters terribly.

“And what of Jeffrey?” Anne asked of the Hursts’ oldest, who was 13.

“Next week, I think.”

“That’s right,” Judith put in. “But the best part will come in the fall. All the children will remain home for their schooling.”

Anne looked surprised, so Pastor explained.

“Jennings wanted to give it a try with his children, and Palmer liked the idea too, so we’ve joined them. The children will go to Thornton Hall for history and geography with Jennings, to Tipton for mathematics with Palmer, and I’ll be tackling English studies here at the manse.”

“That sounds marvelous. Will they be at each home each day?”

“No. A day with each subject and then Friday mornings for study time. Friday afternoons will be for outings and individual learning sessions.”

“Where do I sign up?” Anne asked, clearly impressed with the idea.

“It does sound fun, doesn’t it?” Judith agreed.

“Indeed. Will you be doing some schoolwork also, John?”

“Some. So will Lizzy Palmer.”

Anne smiled into his soft brown eyes, her heart melting a bit when he smiled back.

“Are you going to stay with us until Margaret comes?” John asked.

“No, John. I’m going home tomorrow.”

“Are you about finished, John?” Pastor Hurst asked of his young son, seeing that his plate was nearly clean.

“Almost,” John said, not having caught on to the fact that his father wanted some time for private conversation. The little boy calmly spooned the last bites into his mouth and reached for his glass of water as though he had all the time in the world.

Anne put a napkin to her mouth to keep from laughing, but he was so delightfully charming it was almost impossible.

“Miss Anne,” John asked suddenly, “will you play a game with me?”

“I will, John, but not just yet. I’ll find you later, and we’ll play whatever you like.”

“All right.”

“All done, John?” his mother prompted, and the little boy nodded. Judith saw him on his way and returned to the table shaking her head.

“To be young and unaware; sometimes I envy him.”

The adults were silent for a moment. Phoebe came and filled teacups before Pastor leaned back in his chair and looked to Anne.

“How do you think it went this morning?”

“Very well. Several folks checked on me, and they were all quite gracious.”

“Did anyone come to you, Frederick?” Judith asked her spouse.

“Yes, and, as with Anne, they were all very positive. Some had heard rumors and others needed clarification, but all were very confident of Anne’s innocence.”

“I’m glad to hear that.”

“Did you get to the rear of the church at all this morning, Anne?”

“No, I came and went through the side door down front.”

“We had a visitor.”

Both women stared at the pastor.

“I thought you were going to postpone your words if someone visited today,” Judith mentioned, trying not to panic.

“He was late. He didn’t come in until the first song.”

“He?” Anne questioned while an odd feeling started around her heart.

“Yes. I didn’t get to meet him, but he seems familiar to me. I can’t help wondering if it wasn’t Mr Weston.”

“Well, if it was, then I’m extra glad Father has forgotten everything. The Crofts have been silent concerning the whole affair, and although I’m under scrutiny in town, there’s been no mention of Mr Weston.”

More concerned for Anne than anyone else, both Hursts kept silent. It was like Anne to think of others first, and they knew her visit to town the day before had been very hard, but Pastor and Judith feared that when all was said and done, it might not prove to be so simple.

Anne caught no undercurrent of this. Some minutes later she remembered that John had wanted to play a game, so she dismissed herself and went on her way. For more years than anyone could remember, life had never been anything but difficult for Anne Gardiner. She expected little else.

Levens Crossing

“How is he doing, Anne?” Dr Smith asked on Wednesday morning, his carriage parked before the house.

“He’s willing to stay off his feet, but he’s been rather quiet.”

“Well, I’ll have a look. He wasn’t at all feverish when he left, but I want to keep an eye on him.”

“Thank you.”

“You look tired,” the doctor stated plainly. Anne only smiled at him.

The man grunted before going on his way, Anne following slowly. She had been home for only two days, but as the doctor had read on her face, they had been weary hours.

Her father had been off his feet and little trouble, but the rain had come through the roof at a steady rate, and mold had started to spread in one corner of the dining room. The leak she had been trying to fix when she found herself in Mr Weston’s arms was now repaired, but getting things dry and clean indoors had been a tougher task. A small table and some linens had been ruined.

Anne went to the kitchen to make a pot of tea for the doctor and her father, and made the mistake of sitting down. In less than a minute she was sound asleep. She had no idea how long she’d been out when the doctor was there, touching her shoulder and calling her name.

“You can’t go on like this, Anne,” he said.

Anne blinked as he put a cup of tea in front of her and sat down across the table, his own cup in hand.

“Did I fall asleep?”

“Of course you did!” he said brusquely to cover his deeper emotions; her tired, confused face tore at his heart. “You can’t push yourself this way.”

“Well, it won’t stay like this, Dr Smith. I’ve gotten a lot done, and things won’t be so busy now.”

“Only until he does it again, Anne,” the doctor said more quietly. “Only until your father runs foul again and gets it into his head to marry you off.”

Anne sipped her tea and tried to think clearly. The doctor was probably right, but what else was she to do?

A noise at the door made her forget her immediate problems. The sound of metal on wood prompted her to look up and see that her father had used his sword for a cane.

“My ankle’s better,” he stated. “I’ll have my tea in here.”

And as steady as though he’d never ailed a day in his life, the Colonel joined the twosome at the kitchen table, his teacup in hand.

They had only just settled in for a visit—the Colonel quite lucid as he asked the doctor about a difficult case—when they heard a horse outside.

“Is the doctor here?” a voice yelled as the front door burst open.

What followed in the next few minutes was an excited Tommy Benwick, whose sister was in labor, pleading with Dr Smith to attend her. The doctor had gone on his way, Tommy having already ridden ahead, when the Colonel spoke.

“You better go on, Anne.”

Anne stared at her father.

“It’s your friend, Lucy, isn’t it?”

“Yes, Father, it is.”

“Well, go on. I’ve food enough to last me out. Go and stay as long as she needs you.”

“It could be several days,” Anne said, speaking from experience.

“Go.”

“You’ll stay here?”

“Certainly,” the Colonel answered as though nothing else had ever occurred to him.

Lucy Digby was a good friend, and Anne did want to be there. She put a hand on his arm, a gesture of thanks, and went to pack a bag. It would have been nice to sleep in her own bed another night, but Lucy was too dear to ignore. Satchel in hand, Anne left for Collingbourne not 15 minutes later.

Brown Manor

“Cook has a meal hot and ready for you, sir,” Mansfield informed Weston late in the day on Wednesday, his voice firm with resolve. Weston had been working all day in his study, and Mansfield was starting to fret.

Weston looked up and felt for the first time that his neck had become stiff. His grandmother had always dreamed and talked of adding a conservatory to Brown Manor, and Weston had determined to do it now. He’d been drawing and poring over plans all day, barely touching the tea and plates of food that had been offered.

“I could use a meal,” Weston said. “I’ll be along shortly.”

Mansfield hated to take his word for it, but did. He closed the study door quietly and started toward the dining room, passing one of the new maids in the hall. She was a pretty little thing, managing to turn the heads of several coachmen, but Mansfield knew she was also a good girl and would brook no disrespect from any of the men.

A certain amount of interaction was to be expected among the servants in any household, but Mr Weston had high standards and would be very hard on any of the men who didn’t hold with his view that, while a part of his household, interactions of a more personal nature were for marriage alone.