Follow the Heart (32 page)

Did Kate suspect . . . ?

The carriage heaved to a stop. Nora waited until Florie and Kate were out before lifting her skirts and climbing down. She immediately made her way to her quarters on the fourth floor of Sir Anthony’s massive Mayfair town house, set her valise on her bed, then went down one floor to Florie’s room.

The chambermaid looked up from unpacking Florie’s trunk. “Miss Florence went down to the sitting room.”

“Thank you.” As suspected, Florie did not need Nora here. Nora went down to the ground floor and stood outside Sir Anthony’s study a moment before knocking.

“Come in.”

Nora slipped in, leaving the door ajar behind her.

Sir Anthony stood from the large chair behind his desk. “Ah, Miss Woodriff. Do have a seat.” He motioned her toward the armchair that faced the desk. “I take it you have come about your holiday?”

She sat on the edge of it. “Yes. I wondered if I might take my leave beginning tomorrow. I would return Friday next.”

“I believe that is the day my nephew plans to come down from Manchester.” Sir Anthony tapped the forefinger of his left hand against his chin. “Yes. Yes, do go home tomorrow. Then you can return Friday, and perhaps you will see Christopher on the train. Though you cannot travel with him, it would be a relief to me to know he is on the same train should anything happen and you need assistance.”

Nora’s breath came in short gasps. “Thank you, sir.”

“While you are gone, I will discover what the best agency in London is, and when you return, we will start looking for another position for you.” His face crumpled into a comically sad expression for a moment. “You have become like part of the family, Miss Woodriff. I know it will be difficult for Florence to part with you.”

“I hope she will not forget me and even consent to write to me from time to time.”

“I am certain she will.” Sir Anthony stood, and Nora rose also. He extended his right hand to her, and Nora shook it. “We will see you in a week.”

“Thank you, Sir Anthony. And if I may, I would like to go down to the telegraph office to wire my parents and let them know to expect me tomorrow night.”

“Yes, yes, of course. Do you want the carriage to take you?”

“Oh, no, sir. It is a pleasant day, and I feel the need to walk.”

He nodded. “I understand. Enjoy your holiday, Miss Woodriff.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Upstairs, Nora tied on her bonnet and made sure she had enough money in her reticule to cover the cost of two telegrams.

Half an hour later, she walked into the telegraph office. While waiting on the three previous customers to complete their business, she studied the train schedule. Fourteen hours on a train made for an arduous day. If Sir Anthony had not insisted Nora accompany Florie on the journey to London, she could have left from Oxford and eliminated nearly three hours from that time. But what did that matter now? She was here, and she had permission to go home for a week. Five days, once she accounted for traveling all day tomorrow and next Friday.

She sent the message to her parents first, telling them to expect her on the late train. Then she pulled out the scrap of paper on which she’d scribbled her carefully worded message for Christopher. After writing down the address of his leased flat on the form, she wrote out the message in clear block letters and handed it to the operator.

Now, to make it through the night without letting anticipation get the better of her.

Andrew pounded the soil around the tussock of ornamental grass. Its feathery fronds waved in the gentle spring breeze, and the long grass blades swayed. He sat on the ground and wiped the sweat from his face with his sleeve. Kate had suggested using
Cortaderia selloana
as a border for the elliptical garden and he had to admit, she was right.

Around him, undergardeners and day laborers worked on the final touches to the area. Once this was finished, Andrew’s work at Wakesdown would be also. And though he wanted Sir Anthony’s approval, he also wanted to wait a few weeks to make sure none of the plants or trees they’d planted over the past weeks would die.

By late afternoon, he’d paid the laborers and sent them home. He and Wakesdown’s gardeners would inspect everything tomorrow and make any last-minute repairs or changes before Andrew left Wakesdown.

In a way, he hated that the job was complete. Now what would he have to occupy his hands and try to keep his mind off of Kate and her engagement to Lord Thynne?

Kate. Engaged to Lord Thynne.

Andrew slammed the front door of his cottage and threw his work gloves across the sitting room. He’d gone to the folly the morning after the ball, something in his gut telling him he should go. But instead of Kate, all he’d found were two wilted jasmine blooms and a piece of ivy on the top step.

She must have been there. Where else would the flowers have come from? But if she’d accepted Lord Thynne’s proposal at the ball, as all the servants said she had, why would she have gone to the folly hours later?

He wanted to believe it was because she regretted her decision, that she wanted to change her mind. But if he allowed himself to believe that, he would have to take responsibility for fighting the urge to go until two hours after he’d first woken up with the idea. If he’d gone when he first awakened, would she have been there, waiting for him? Could he have stopped her from marrying Lord Thynne?

Time rendered speculation pointless. He hadn’t responded to the urge to go until too late. Now she was gone, out of his reach.

Early the next morning, the head gardener pulled up to Andrew’s cottage in the work wagon. Sir Anthony had told Andrew to have the butler order one of the carriages to take him to the railway station, but Andrew did not care for the butler and did not believe the butler had taken too kindly to someone who wasn’t firmly under his command.

He tossed his small trunk and valise into the back of the wagon and climbed up onto the seat beside Tom. Neither spoke as Tom drove through the grounds. What a change eight months had wrought. What was once dry, brown grass was now green and lush. Vignettes and settings created by landscaping made a feast for the eyes and invited one to spend time in each.

“Stop here a moment please, Tom.”

Andrew jumped down from the wagon. He opened a gate in the low stone wall, went through the gate, past a tall wall, and into the main gardens. He jogged down the path that led through the arbor and stopped when he came to his favorite spot in the entire grounds.

A small boxwood shrub surrounded by purple aster flowers stood in a large stone pot beside the path.

Andrew picked one of the flowers and threaded it into the buttonhole in his lapel. He could not stay long, but he paused a moment longer, eyes closed, remembering.

He ran back to the wagon, cupping his hand over the flower to keep from losing it. He slowed when he saw a man on a horse beside the wagon, talking to Tom.

“Andrew, this man has a wire for you. He went down to the cottages, and you weren’t there. So he was going to the big house—but saw me sitting here and thought he’d ask after you.”

Andrew raised his eyebrows, and he tried not to let his excitement show. She’d changed her mind. She wanted him, not Thynne. He took the missive with trembling hands, and the messenger rode away.

The excitement did not last long. Before reading the message, he scanned down it and found, to his disappointment, that it was from Sir Anthony, not Kate.

“I hope it isn’t bad news.”

Andrew folded the telegram and slid it into his pocket, then mounted the wagon again. “No. Sir Anthony wants me to pay him a visit when I arrive in London.”

“He say what for?” Tom jiggled the reins and the heavy-limbed workhorses trudged down the road.

“No. Maybe he wants to introduce me to someone who needs my services.”

Though grateful for the baronet’s patronage, Andrew could not abide the thought of entering the house where Kate was staying. However, meeting someone else who might want to hire him could be his escape from working for Lord
and Lady
Thynne.

The train to London was more crowded than usual, and most of the passengers talked of the Exhibition and their plan to find accommodations by arriving almost a month early. Andrew did not want to inform them that any place they thought they might get a room had been booked a long time ago. He was grateful for Mr. Paxton’s invitation to stay with him while in town for the opening. Even though Andrew had not been Paxton’s apprentice since before Paxton drew his plans for the Crystal Palace, his mentor wanted him to be there, by his side, on opening day.

Some might think Andrew would be able to enjoy a few weeks of rest until then. But if he knew Joseph Paxton at all, he would be working on drawing plans for all of the visionary projects Paxton could imagine.

Andrew’s first evening in London consisted of a riotous dinner with twelve of Paxton’s closest acquaintances and a few former apprentices, like Andrew. He paid careful attention to who was whom and what connections they had. And when he returned to his room, he wrote down in his journal the names of those who might be helpful to him in the future.

At one o’clock the next day, Andrew knocked on the front door of the Buchanans’ Mayfair town home. He hated cities, with their unadorned blocks of stone and brick facades with little to no vegetation to break up the monotony.

A butler who looked annoyed by Andrew’s existence opened the door. Andrew handed him his calling card. “Andrew Lawton to see Sir Anthony Buchanan.”

The butler let him into the hall. “Wait here.”

The house seemed different than when he and Christopher stayed here. The presence of more household staff and the sound of voices coming from the front parlor probably contributed to that feeling.

Andrew tapped his hat against his leg, knowing each moment he waited could result in an unwanted run-in with Kate. Moments later, though, he entered Sir Anthony’s study without encountering any other member of the family.

“Andrew, do come in. I would ask you to sit, but what I need to talk to you about is best if you see it for yourself.” Sir Anthony led Andrew through the back of the house and out into a courtyard that opened up into a small garden.

“As you can see”—Sir Anthony swept the yard with narrowed eyes—“our garden here is in as much need of your services as those at Wakesdown were. I know I did not contract you for this, but would you be willing to redesign this garden before you move on to your next patron?”

And increase his chances of seeing Kate if he were to come here daily? He hesitated, though Sir Anthony did not seem to notice.

“There is a back gate here. I will get you a key so you can come and go as you please, and so you can let the workers in and lock up behind them when they leave in the evenings.

He would not have to enter the house. And if he did, it would be through the back hallway that led directly past Sir Anthony’s study before it got to any of the public spaces. He would never have to see Kate.

“I will be happy to redesign your garden, Sir Anthony.”

They shook hands, and the baronet led Andrew back into the house, where he wrote up an agreement they both signed.

The butler looked down his nose at Andrew in the front hall, but Andrew did not care. He would have employment, and it would be for someone who liked his work and found very few faults with anything he did. And he would not have to enter through the house.

The front door swung open.

Dorcas Buchanan stepped in, pulling off her gloves. “Why, Mr. Lawton. I did not think we would be seeing any more of you now that we’re in London.”

Andrew was about to lift his hat to her, but remembered just in time that he still had his hat in his hand. He inclined his head instead. “Miss Dorcas. Your father asked me to redesign the back garden here.”

The young woman’s smile showed she could be coy without trying. “That will be lovely, I am certain. Have you seen Kate? She and I are supposed to be going to Hyde Park this afternoon, but my gown fitting ran late.”

Andrew jammed his hat on his head. “No, I have not seen Miss Dearing. Good day, Miss Dorcas.” He skirted around her and exited the house. If God would listen to his prayers this time, he would not see Miss Katharine Dearing again. Ever.

C
HAPTER
T
WENTY-
T
HREE

N
ora, I do not believe I have ever seen you so agitated.”

Nora dropped her spoon and it clattered against the ceramic saucer under her teacup. She looked up, having almost forgotten her mother sat at table with her. “I know. I . . . I am simply overjoyed to be home for the first time in so long.” She reached across the corner of the kitchen table and squeezed her mother’s hand.

After allowing Nora to sleep late this morning, Mama had asked nothing of Nora other than to sit with her and keep her company while she worked on mending some clothing for a few of the bachelors who worked with Father. Now they sat at the kitchen table, indulging in a first cup of tea before Father returned home from the mill expecting the afternoon repast to tide him over until dinner in another couple of hours.