Lily George (14 page)

She closed her beautiful eyes, and tears spilled forth, tracing paths down her pale cheeks. “I wish I could believe it.”

He was so close to happiness. It was like a leaf dancing on a chill autumn wind. He kept drawing closer, trying to grasp it, and another fickle breeze would blow it just out of reach. “Will you c-c-come home with m-me and m-meet m-my family?”

“I can’t leave here. Not with Sophie gone to Brightgate.” She gave a little hiccupping sob. “The girls are relying upon me.”

“Then I shall write to Mother and Mary and ask them to join me here for a visit.” He withdrew his handkerchief from his pocket and gently scrubbed away the paths of her tears. “Once they meet you I am certain they will adore you.”

“I wish I could be so sure.” Her lips trembled into a shadow of a smile.

“You c-c-can be.” Again, happiness just flitted out of grasp. He was ready to seize it—to make it his. “L-Lucy, d-d-do you
want
to m-marry m-me?”

“I...I do. But I cannot make any promise to you. Not until I meet your family and gain their acceptance and approval.” Her lovely face had settled into lines of determination. She was a stubborn one. He admired her for it, and at the same time, exasperation threatened to overtake him completely. He was ready to sweep her into his arms and kiss her until she consented to become his wife and gave up this silly nonsense about family connections.

But as a solider, he had to know when to make a strategic retreat. He had not given up, but he knew that victory would not be won today. At least he knew she cared. That little flicker of hope would keep him going. And once Mother and Mary came and met Lucy, the matter would be settled. They would be married, and he would have his adorable Lucy forevermore. He need only be patient a bit longer.

He stroked her soft cheek with the pad of his thumb. “B-but I shall ask again s-s-soon. I h-hope to hear a happier answer then. And in the m-meantime, I shall c-c-court you with a v-v-vengeance.” When she opened her mouth to protest, he laid his finger across her lips. “Just s-s-say yes to that, L-Lucy,” he breathed, willing her to understand the depths of his emotion.

Lucy looked at him, her dark eyes still bright with tears. She gave a trembling sigh. Then—“Yes.”

Chapter Fourteen

L
ucy stuffed another schoolbook into her bag. The children of the veterans’ group would wait no longer. As of today, she would start spending her off days up at Saint Swithin’s, holding an impromptu school. ’Twas something she’d meant to do for weeks, before Sophie’s departure and Amelia’s debut made it necessary for her to put it aside.

But if she were to be honest with herself, the idea of a school was a good distraction that she needed now more than ever. She had not seen James for three days now, not since the day he proposed to her in the music room. And she had not breathed a word of their conversation to anyone. When Sophie returned home the day before, Lucy kept her counsel, immersing herself into Sophie’s problems with Lieutenant Cantrill. She’d certainly not said a word to Louisa. Besides being highly improper, such a course of action would open Lucy to an onslaught of Louisa’s romantic notions, and she was not strong enough to endure more of that nonsense.

She laced up the leather satchel, which now bulged with books, slates and slate pencils. She’d done such a fine job of convincing herself that James’s proposal was meaningless—hopeless, in fact—that sometimes she wondered if it had really transpired. Perhaps she’d dreamed the whole thing. And that thought made her heart ache. She wanted it to be true, even though the marriage he’d said he wanted could never, ever come to fruition.

She struck out for Saint Swithin’s alone. Sophie had broken off her engagement with Lieutenant Cantrill and would no longer be attending any veterans’ group meetings. The lieutenant was probably still home in Brightgate, so he wouldn’t be there. It promised to be a rather small crowd with no familiar faces. She infinitely preferred the familiar. At the mere thought of confronting a lot of strangers, Lucy began twirling a lock of her dark hair with her fingers. But then, it was either this or sit at home where she would have the option of listening to Sophie wail or sitting at her window seat and stare at the walls, replaying her conversation with James in her mind over and over. Action was definitely preferable to moping about the house.

The weather was gray, and storm clouds gathered menacingly on the horizon. It was going to be a wet walk home, quite likely. She scanned the skies with an anxious glance. Perhaps she could stay in the church until the storm passed this afternoon. It would be horrid to get soaked to the bone, and the books would likely be ruined, as well.

She mounted the stone steps leading to Saint Swithin’s as hastily as ladylike behavior would allow. Bother. The satchel with the books was so dreadfully heavy. Why had she brought so many? She’d have to start a lending library and leave the books in the chapel. She’d ask Reverend Stephens if that would be a welcome thing. It would certainly save her back and shoulders to do so.

A familiar figure stood at the top of the stairs.

James.

Her heart leaped as he spied her and began descending the stairs, his face creased with a sudden smile of welcome. James grasped the satchel and lifted it onto his shoulders, stealing a quick peck on her cheek as he did so. She darted a warning glance at him as she surrendered her burden.

“What?” He laughed with triumph. “I p-promised you I would c-court you. You c-can’t b-blame a fellow for t-trying.” He tucked her arm into his elbow and led her up the rest of the stairs. “What’s in the b-bag?”

“Books for the children,” she murmured. “I want to start teaching here at the veterans’ group meetings.” She looked up at him, her brows drawing together in confusion. “Why are you here? Aren’t you working most mornings now?”

“F-Felton has g-given me leave to attend the m-meetings. I’ve m-missed them. And it’s a g-good opportunity to s-see you.” He grinned like a mischievous boy, an endearing grin that made her smile back. “A school, you s-say? That’s a g-good idea.”

Warmth glowed through her at his approval. It was nice to be able to confide in him. Why, if they were married, they could meet just like this, walk home in the evenings, share their trials and troubles over dinner in a cozy flat. The mere thought of it filled her with longing. Perhaps—perhaps—he was right. Maybe everything could work out, and they could marry. She briefly explained her idea of a school to him, and he nodded in approval.

“I think it’s s-something the children n-need. And what’s m-more, you’re a g-gifted t-teacher. You should use your g-gift to help others.” Instead of leading her inside, however, he steered her over to the willow tree in the side courtyard. “We’ll join them in a m-moment,” he muttered, pulling her close. “B-but I wanted to let you know I wrote to my family. I am sure M-Mother and M-Mary will join me within a fortnight.”

“A fortnight?” It seemed so soon and yet so long to endure. She allowed herself to rest her head on his shoulder, breathing deeply. The fine linen of his shirtfront rubbed against her cheek, and she closed her eyes. He smelled of shaving soap, a citrusy scent that made her think of the tartness of limeade. Sitting here like this, she could almost believe they would be wed.

“And I have m-more p-plans.” He rubbed his chin against the crown of her hair. “Lord B-Bradbury’s already recommended m-me to some of his c-cronies. I have garnered t-two more c-commissions in the past three days. F-Felton’s given me his approval to keep going with these jobs. So I am m-making inquiries to find a home. Our home.”

She drew back, staring up at him with widened eyes. “Our home?”

“I c-can’t have M-Mother and M-Mary stay with me and Macready anyway,” he teased in a light tone. “B-but it’s something I’ve b-been thinking of for a long t-time. A nice little house of our own. W-will you help me choose one?”

“I don’t know.” She braced herself against his shoulder. First, she was allowing him to court her. Now, he was asking for her help in choosing a home? If she helped him to select a place to live, would she be opening herself up to more heartache later when his mother disapproved? Very likely so, no matter what James said. No, it was better not to even involve herself in the search for a new house.

She stole a glance up at James’s strong profile. He was determined, and he was stubborn. If she said no, flatly, then it would anger him or even hurt him. So it was better to find a different, truthful answer to give him now until this inevitable farce played to the bitter end.

“I’d rather it be a surprise,” she murmured.

He looked down at her, a flicker of amusement in his dark green eyes. She’d forgotten that James was also very, very smart. He said nothing, but a wry grin twisted the corner of his mouth.

“Very well, a s-surprise it shall b-be.” He patted her shoulder. “We’d b-better go in. It looks like rain.”

She pulled away from him and rose, shaking out her skirts. “I did want to say congratulations on your commissions,” she admitted, tucking her hand into his elbow. “I knew you would do splendid work at Felton’s. I peeked into the library yesterday, and I must say it’s looking quite wonderful. Those barrister bookcases are so elegant.”

James smiled. “I would never have g-gotten started without your help.”

She said nothing, but it was hard to tamp down the happiness that welled within her. Even if they never married—even if she never saw him again—James was going to be fine. He had come so far from the lanky young man who couldn’t speak two words to most people. Now, he spoke to almost everyone, with merely the hint of a stammer. He was gaining acclaim for his work with Felton. He was moving out of the flat he shared with Macready.

He was going to make some girl very happy some day. Even if the girl in question wasn’t Lucy Williams.

* * *

It felt good to be part of the veterans’ group again. James had never been active in the group and had kept to the outskirts of the meetings whenever he’d shown up before, certain that the other veterans scorned him for his lack of courage under fire. And yet, as he entered the narthex today, several of them called out to him in greeting. His work with Felton was the talk of the men, many of whom were looking for work themselves.

“It does me good to hear that another bloke is doing well,” a grizzled old veteran laughed, slapping James on the back. “It gives me hope for the future.”

Cantrill was nowhere to be found, which was too bad. He must be in Brightgate visiting his family still. James missed the lieutenant, who, along with Macready and Lucy, had been among the few who cared enough to help break down his defenses and try to help him.

He settled into a pew, giving a brief backward glance to the group of women and children settled near the back of the chapel. Lucy had gathered a group of children off to one side and was reading aloud to them. Judging by their rapt expressions, she had them completely enamored. He couldn’t suppress a grin at the reminder of how smitten
he
had been when she met him under the willow tree and read from the book of poetry.

Macready limped in and settled onto the bench beside him. “Well, I found a place for you to let. Not that I’m eager to run you off. But as I was on my way over, I turned down a side street and there it was. A charming little house on York Street. The sign in the window read, ‘to let.’ So I knocked on the door and obtained the information for you in case you are interested.”

“Well d-done.” He unfolded the scrap of foolscap Macready handed him and scanned its contents. “S-sizable rooms, s-serviceable k-k-kitchen. D-does it have a g-garden?”

“Yes, a very pretty one in front with flowers and what looked to be a vegetable garden behind. I hate to lose you as a roommate, but I was tempted to take it myself. It’s made of stone, nice sturdy slate roof, as pleasant a little home as you can imagine. I think even your mother would find it suitable.” Macready laughed and waggled his eyebrows.

“You should just b-be happy that I am leaving so you d-don’t have to endure my relatives,” he rejoined crisply, mostly joking. True, Mother could be hard to take. But Mary? His sister was a sweet soul, always had been. “You will c-c-come and c-c-call while they’re here, w-won’t you? B-but you must p-p-promise you’ll at least b-be kind to Mary. She’s a g-good g-girl. Like m-me, she stammers. Her m-marriage p-p-prospects because of it aren’t very h-hopeful.”

“I promise not to be a bore,” Macready replied, solemnly crossing his heart. “The place is furnished except for a few bits and pieces. I told the agent you’d probably stop by this afternoon.”

Thunder rumbled, dulled by the thickness of the church walls, joined soon thereafter by the patter of raindrops against the windowpanes. “I’ll g-go, but I must g-get a hackney. And we’ll t-take Lucy home, t-too. She walked here with a satchel full of b-books. I don’t want her to g-get soaked.”

Macready nodded his assent, and they both turned their attention to the meeting. Reverend Stephens conducted the gathering, leading the men in prayer. When the meeting drew to a close, the reverend beckoned James over, a kind smile on his face.

“I am so glad to see you again, Ensign. Did Felton let you have the morning off?”

“He d-did. He feels the g-group d-does fine things for the c-community, and so he insisted I return to the m-meetings.” James shook the reverend’s hand. “And I owe you a d-debt of g-gratitude, as well. Our c-conversation the other d-day was a turning point for m-me. I am b-becoming a new m-man.”

The reverend nodded. “Well, there was nothing wrong with the old one except a tendency not to forgive.”

“Thank y-you again.” With those words, James bowed to the reverend and went to the back of the church to collect Lucy. Perhaps the reverend would be officiating at their wedding before long.

Several of the children clustered around Lucy, pulling at her long skirts with grubby hands. She smiled at each one of them so lovingly, so patiently, where other women would have been politely horrified at the damage to their gowns. “I promise we will continue our lessons every week,” she told them firmly in that musical voice of hers. “Now that I know how many of you there are and what you like to read and learn, next week will be even better. I promise.”

She glanced up, her brown eyes twinkling as James approached.

“It l-looks like your s-s-school is a s-s-success,” he stammered. How pretty Lucy was when she was confident and happy. When she wasn’t deliberately walling herself off from other people. He would spend the rest of his life trying to keep that delighted expression on her face.

“Yes, it is.” The children’s parents clustered around, gathering up their progeny and thanking Lucy for her help. He helped her to gather her books in her worn leather satchel until the church was finally emptied of the families who ventured out into the pouring rain.

“Macready and I are r-renting a hackney. C-come, let us escort you home,” he said when they finally had a moment to themselves.

“A hack? Oh, goodness, how kind you are. I did not relish the prospect of walking home in this downpour,” she replied with a happy chuckle.

Macready joined them in the vestibule. “I’ve already called for the hack,” he replied, indicating his damp clothes with a wave of his hand. “As you can see—even just waiting outside for one was a bit of a soak.”

“M-Macready, d-don’t think you’ve m-m-met Miss Williams.” James set about making the introductions as calmly as he could. Macready and his gift of Irish gab—he’d have to be careful and not allow his comrade to say too much. Lucy was so easily embarrassed and so determined not to be thought of as anyone but a governess. Certainly not James’s sweetheart.

“I apologize, I didn’t catch your rank,” Lucy replied sweetly, curtsying before Macready. “I want to make sure I address you correctly. I know how important that is to military men.”

Macready’s thin face broke into a wide grin. “Oh, tosh, Miss Williams. You may call me plain old Macready. It’s how all of my friends address me.”

“Very well then. How do you do, Macready?” Lucy smiled. A dart of jealousy shot through James. He wasn’t entirely comfortable with the way Macready was looking at Lucy. As though she were a sweet, ripe apple and he was hungry for a bite. James offered her his elbow, asserting his place once more.

“Shall we g-go?” Blast his stammer. He was learning to live with it, but surely as the sun set in the west, it would pop up at the worst times. And standing next to Macready, with his fluent speech and his gift of complimenting the ladies, made James’s deficiencies stand out in bold relief.