The Rescue (9 page)

He set the same standard for the women. They were expected to comport themselves with self-respect. It never took long for word to get out that the female servants in the Weston household were treated well, not just by the Weston family, but by the male servants as well, something many women found desirable.

Mansfield had only just arrived in the small dining room, checking to see that all was in readiness, when Weston joined him.

“Something smells good,” Weston commented as he took a seat.

“Onion soup, sir, and fresh bread. The hour is late, so we kept things light, but there is treacle for pudding.”

“Splendid, Mansfield. You always know just what I need.”

Mansfield inclined his head modestly, but he was pleased.

“I’m going to head into town in the morning and do a bit of shopping. Have you word on the arrival of the furniture?”

“Everything should be here Friday.”

“Good. I’m not going to have work on the conservatory start until we’re a little more settled, but I’m eager to get things underway.”

“Will you hire from London, sir, or locally?”

“I’m going to do a little inquiring when I’m in town tomorrow. I may check with a man I met on Sunday.”

“Very good, sir. More tea?”

“Yes.”

Soon after that, Mansfield left Weston to eat alone, but Weston barely noticed his departure. He was once again mentally walking through the conservatory, his mind taken up with the building, the plant life it would include, and just how long it would take to complete the work.

The meal before him was very good, but Weston ate distractedly. When Mansfield returned he was satisfied to see that Weston had eaten all the soup and bread, but he hadn’t waited for dessert.

Mansfield thought—not for the first time—that the man needed a wife, a loving woman who shared his beliefs and would see to it that he ate properly and gained the proper amount of rest.

Mansfield ordered the table cleared and eventually took himself off to bed, a wife for Mr Weston still on his mind.

Collingbourne

“Oh, Anne,” Lucy panted weakly. “I can’t go on much longer.”

“You’re doing splendidly, Lucy. It won’t be long now,” Anne encouraged as she wiped the other woman’s brow. Anne’s arm was bruised where Lucy had squeezed it, but that was of little consequence. The doctor had not been back for more than an hour, and Anne so wanted this baby to arrive safely.

A shadow passed over the bed just then, and both women looked up to see Lucy’s husband, Billy Digby.

“Oh, Billy.” Lucy was apologetic, her face flushed and hair limp with perspiration. “I’m sorry it’s taking so long. You won’t get a bit of rest tonight, and you have to work in the morning.”

“You silly girl,” he said lovingly as he took a seat on the bed. “You’re all I care about.”

“The baby too?”

“Yes, the baby, but you most of all.”

Anne knew she must be tired when she felt tears coming to her eyes. She ducked her head and blinked rapidly to dispel them but felt more coming on when Billy leaned close and kissed his wife. A pain gripped Lucy a short time later, and Billy fled, but Anne saw her through, praying again that the doctor would check on her soon.

As it was, Dr Smith had a second delivery keeping him up this night and didn’t arrive back until Lucy’s baby had let out her first loud cry. It was a girl, red and wrinkly, with robust lungs announcing to everyone that she had arrived.

After the doctor came on duty, Anne slipped from the bedroom into the kitchen and sat by the stove. Benwick, a grandfather for the second time now, pushed a mug of tea into her hands, and Anne drank gratefully. No one disturbed her or said a word when she fell sound asleep in the chair.

Tommy, up well past his normal bedtime, covered her with a blanket before going in to see his new little niece.

“Would you like some more, Meg?” Anne asked of Lucy and Billy’s daughter, who was spooning porridge into her mouth with a fair amount of accuracy.

“Yes, please,” she said, her little mouth still half full.

Anne did the honors, adding extra sugar to make it special.

“I want Mama,” the little girl said before she was through with the second bowl, and Anne was as honest as she had been the first two times the toddler had requested her mother.

“Mama’s resting. We’ll check on her later.”

“And baby Liz?”

“And baby Liz,” Anne assured her, pleased when she went back to her meal.

There was not a lot of room in the Digby cottage, but well after midnight when Anne had found herself asleep in the kitchen chair, she had slipped into Meg’s room and climbed into bed with her. Lucy had needed her only once in the night, and other than that she’d slept hard until Meg woke and found her company in the morning.

Always happy to see Anne, the little girl had squealed with delight, and Anne had woken to a tight hug around the neck. Now the two breakfasted together—it was still very early—while Lucy found some extra sleep.

This worked until a small cry was heard from the bedroom. Anne made certain that all porridge was washed from Meg’s little face and hands before explaining that they would go in quietly in case Lucy was still asleep.

Meg, her face alight with excitement, agreed to all of this until she saw her mother. The toddler flung herself onto the bed and into Lucy’s arms, who laughed in delight.

“We tried to be quiet,” Anne explained, having gone to the cradle to scoop the tiny infant girl into her arms.

“It’s all right,” Lucy said wearily. “That kind of welcome is always worth waking up for.”

“How are you?” Anne asked, gentling bouncing a still crying Liz.

“I’m lying here worrying about seeing to both Meg and Liz. Can you stay a few days, Anne?”

Making it sound like the simplest task in the world, Anne said, “Of course I can.”

Lucy smiled and said, “Then to answer your question, my friend, I’m fine—very fine indeed.”

Chapter Five

Weston started his morning in Collingbourne at the office of Mr Vintcent, an architect. He explained what he was looking for, even going so far as to show the man his rough sketch, and was encouraged when the architect became animated with ideas. Weston knew he would not agree to anything today, even if the man offered references, but in an hour’s time, Weston was certain that Mr Vintcent knew exactly what he was looking for.

“I can come out later this week to ascertain the exact location. Once I have that, I can put an estimate on paper for you.”

“Excellent. I’ll plan on that.”

“Brown Manor, you said?” Mr Vintcent took notes as he asked.

“Yes. Friday morning would be good for my schedule. May I expect you then?”

“Eight o’clock?”

“Perfect.”

The men parted company, Weston well pleased with the meeting. He was finished earlier than he’d planned, and the moment he walked from the architect’s office, he knew he wasn’t ready to head home. He hadn’t been in Collingbourne for any length of time in years and had a sudden yearning to explore.

Not bothering to climb back into his carriage, he told his driver to meet him at the other end of town and began walking down the street. He had no particular plan in mind, but as soon as he saw Benwick’s, he remembered Mansfield mentioning he’d been there. Weston made directly for the door, stepping inside to the soft chime of a bell.

Things were quiet—the bell didn’t appear to rouse anyone—and Weston began a slow tour. He hadn’t been in the first aisle two minutes when the chime sounded again, but he was too busy with the contents of Benwick’s shelves to give it much notice.

Just moments later a female voice floated over to Weston’s aisle. “What are you looking at?”

“Oh, nothing, really,” a second voice answered, sounding distracted. “I just spotted this bit of tapestry and thought it pretty.”

“It is pretty, but finish your story first.”

“Well,” the woman launched back in without further prompting, her voice growing dramatic. “She was gone for
days
and isn’t saying where she was or
whom
she was with.”

The first woman sighed. “She won’t be showing her face around town very soon.”

“That’s just it. She’s in town! Lucy Digby’s just had a baby, and she’s here helping her.”

“A gentleman’s daughter—a military man no less—acting as a midwife for Lucy! And shopkeeper’s daughter or not, we both know that Lucy married below herself. If they aren’t two of a kind, I don’t know who is!”

“Good morning, ladies.” Having come from his back room, Mr Benwick himself cut into the conversation, not having any idea what they’d been speaking about. “May I help you with something?”

Still in the next aisle when he heard the other man’s voice, Weston realized he’d been standing there listening. He gave himself a little shake at his own stupidity and returned to browsing. He was vaguely aware that the threesome was speaking across the way, but he’d spotted a slim volume that held some of the more popular works of Shakespeare and thought his mother might enjoy it. Her birthday was months away, but that didn’t matter. He had plucked it from the shelf and was studying the pages when Benwick found him.

“Are you finding everything, sir?”

“I am, yes.”

“If you need anything wrapped, we can do that at the counter.”

“Thank you.”

Benwick left Weston on his own, turning to check on a woman who had just entered the store. She was a handful, wanting items he didn’t stock and would have to order from London, but the shop owner was patient, as were some of his other customers. When he had the woman settled, packed up, and out the door at last, he found Weston at the counter. Weston had selected the book of Shakespeare, an intricate German-made clock, and some of the finest linen handkerchiefs the store carried.

“Did you find everything you needed, sir?

“Yes, thank you.”

“Do you want these wrapped or delivered?”

“Just wrapped. I’ll be taking everything with me.”

Benwick, an old hand at the task, had Weston out the door in little time, wishing him a fine day and inwardly hoping he would shop there often.

“Who was that man, Mr Benwick?” one of the gossiping women asked the moment Weston left.

“I don’t know, Mrs Stanhope. He didn’t give his name.”

The women, who had been doing more visiting than shopping, exchanged glances, neither one the least bit ashamed of her unnecessary interest. Benwick was used to such behavior and took it in stride. He truly didn’t know who the man was, but even if he had, he would have been very closemouthed to Mrs Stanhope and her companion.