Louise M. Gouge (9 page)

Edmond stared at Mother, mouth agape, expecting her to quash the plan.

Instead, she gave him one of her imperious nods. “It is our duty to oversee the celebration.”

“But why not Richard?” Edmond had never coveted his eldest brother’s position, nor would he supplant Greystone’s heir presumptive.

Mother blew out a cross breath. “He refuses to leave Mary’s side.”

Nor should he, of course. “Very well. I will do my best.” Pleased at the prospect of enjoying some much-needed gaiety, he turned to leave.

“And, Edmond—” Greystone coughed again, but it sounded like his congestion had broken up, a good sign that he was mending “—unless Mother requires Miss Newfield’s presence, you must take her along with you to help distribute the candy to the children.”

The smirk on his haggard face doused a large portion of Edmond’s enthusiasm and goodwill. Greystone’s earlier “your Miss Newfield” had not escaped his notice. At the first opportunity, he would advise his brother in no uncertain terms that he must stop these misbegotten jests. Why could Greystone not comprehend the threat to Miss Newfield, should Mother actually
hear
those jests and decide there was some truth behind them? Why, she would not have the slightest compunction against tossing the dear girl out in the snow. In the dead of night. Without a farthing.

At all costs, Edmond must not permit that to happen.

Chapter Fourteen

I
n the fading twilight Anna walked beside Major Grenville toward the village, following a footman who carried a lantern to light the path. Anna savored the aroma of the treacle sweetmeats and gingerbread in the basket on her arm. In the distance she could see the villagers piling dry branches on the pyre in the square. Behind her the hushed, hurried voices of two other footmen revealed their excitement over the coming revels. Or perhaps they were eager to taste the cakes in the boxes they carried.

“You must instruct me in my duties, Major. I have little experience with Guy Fawkes Day.” Anna’s pulse pounded in cautious anticipation. “
Papá
disapproved of the celebration, although as a churchman he did appreciate the sentiments behind it.”

“So there were no festivities in Blandon?” A basket on one arm, he used the opposite hand to grip his cane. His halting gait suggested he found each step a struggle, but he did not complain.

If he could ignore his pain, Anna would follow suit, but how she wished he was resting after their vigil with Lord Greystone instead of making this journey. “Oh, yes. Squire Beamish would have nothing to do with the day, but the villagers made much of it. Unfortunately, without supervision, the young men often engaged in riotous actions beyond burning Guy Fawkes in effigy.”

“I can imagine.” The major gave her a knowing nod. “That’s just the sort of thing the first Viscount Greystone hoped to prevent by organizing these celebrations. Each subsequent Lord Greystone has also given his people a holiday so they won’t see any need to burn the manor house down.”

Anna drew in a sharp breath. “Oh, dear. Would they do that?”

“One would hope not.” He chuckled. “I would not alarm you, but with the riots up north and the Luddites’ mischief, even Mother has seen the wisdom of continuing the revels. With Halloween given no sanction in Greystone Village, people need some sort of excitement after harvest and before winter sets in. This event seems to appease our villagers.”

“Ah. I see.” In truth, she did not see. Like
Papá,
she had never experienced the restlessness that afflicted many people. If Peter had not been so restless, he might still be close by her instead of a world away. Instead of—but she would not permit the thought to go further. “So now you must tell me what to do when we arrive at the bonfire.” With only some fifty yards to go, she hoped his instructions would not be complicated.

“Very simply, you must take Mother’s accustomed place and hand out the sweets.” He stumbled briefly as the path dipped, but recovered his balance before she could comment. “Actually, I must first report to the people on Greystone’s condition and offer his apologies. Then the effigy will be brought forth, I will read His Lordship’s customary speech about the significance of the day, the effigy goes over the pyre, and the fire is set. Dancing and revelry ensue.” He gave her a sidelong glance. “Of course we could set the sweets out for children to help themselves, but that would invite nothing short of chaos.” His face creased comically, and he rolled his eyes in an expression all the more clownish in the flickering lantern light.

Anna laughed to ward off her unaccountably giddy feelings. Like her brother, this man was handsome even in his absurdity. “I do believe I can manage the task.” Memories of her visit to the classroom assured her that these children were not entirely untamed. It was more than she could say for her heart, which was now wildly tripping over itself.

* * *

In the glow of the lantern Edmond could see the merry sparkle in Miss Newfield’s eyes, and his heart lifted considerably. With her by his side, he could face the villagers and say all the proper things on his brother’s behalf. In fact, with her encouragement, he sensed he could accomplish anything he set his mind to. If they had a private moment with no gossiping footmen nearby, he would ask her opinion of his ambitions to sell his commission and become a barrister. Until Uncle Grenville arrived, he longed for a confidante. He could think of no one who would listen as impartially as Miss Newfield.

They arrived at the torch-lit village square to much acclaim and cheering. It was the uniform, of course. At his every appearance among these good people, they made much ado, calling him a hero and pushing forward to greet him. Nothing he could say diminished their praise.

Wending his way through the lively crowd, he led Miss Newfield to the small platform prepared for Greystone and Mother, then helped her up the single step and onto the bench provided for them. In the back of the mob he noticed several youths consorting together, so he quietly ordered his footmen to make certain they planned no mischief. Their disappointment obvious, the footmen set down their treasured boxes and mingled with the throng, but not before Edmond promised to save them a goodly portion of the cakes as a reward for their efforts.

Surrendering his basket to Miss Newfield, he stood and raised his hands. The villagers and farmers, dressed in their finest clothes, grew quiet, and all eyes were on him and his companion. A few people gave them knowing glances and nudged each other, sending misgivings threading through him. Did the sight of him and Miss Newfield together hint at impropriety? Edmond renewed his vow to treat the young lady circumspectly so no suspicion would taint her name.

“Good people of Greystone, I bring you a happy report of His Lordship. He is resting well and sends his apologies for missing his favorite celebration.”

A hearty cheer arose for several moments.

“Now let us begin. Bring out the villain!”

Cheering of a different sort rose up to echo throughout the village square and no doubt beyond it as the people surrendered to their merriment. If the denizens of Greystone Lodge could not hear the din, they were surely deaf. Two hardy farmers strode in with the effigy held high on a pole. They hung it on the flimsy scaffold above the pyre.

Edmond pulled a vellum sheet from his inside jacket pocket and unfolded it. Parents shushed their children and everyone listened attentively as he read the story with his best theatrical flair. By the time he reached the end, he felt a burst of English pride equal to that of any man in the crowd. “And when Guy Fawkes was discovered guarding the explosives beneath the House of Lords, our good King James I was delivered from certain death by the hand of Divine Providence. The Gunpowder Plot had failed.”

Another cheer burst forth from the crowd, along with cries of “Death to Guy Fawkes,” “Death to the plotters” and “God save the king.” Torches were taken from their stands and tossed into the pyre. Soon flames roared up and lapped at the figure’s tattered linen gown.

In spite of the noise, Edmond heard a gasp beside him and turned to see dismay written across Miss Newfield’s lovely face. She stared at him wide-eyed, then quickly looked down at her folded hands.

Edmond sat beside her and touched her shoulder, resisting the sudden urge to embrace her. “What is it, dear lady?”

She shook her head. “Please, pay no attention to me.”

Before he could insist upon an answer, fireworks began to explode on the far side of the square. Rockets shot up into the sky, bursting into showers of red and yellow stars that rained back down to the earth. Edmond hadn’t had time to inspect the safety of the fireworks, but Greystone had assured him that the blacksmith was competent. For several minutes, the crowd shouted their approval and celebratory songs rang out. Then, from his vantage point on the platform, Edmond watched with horror as a thin grey thread of smoke rose from the thatched roof of the schoolhouse down the lane.

“Fire!” His experience in the heat of battle triumphed over his alarm. “Form a bucket line.”

The chaotic scene of a moment before quickly transformed into an organized brigade. The farmers who had been in their cups snapped out of their merriment to form a line to the well. Mothers whisked their frightened children away from the area, while the youths who had seemed up to no good now became men.

“John!” Edmond called to one of the footmen, who hurried to the platform. “Take Miss Newfield to the manor house.”

“Aye, sir.”

Assured she was in good hands, Edmond thrust aside his cane and took his place in the bucket line. To ward off the crippling effects of his pain, he marked the leaders among the villagers, heroes all, who knew how to combat the fire. He must inform Greystone of his tenants’ courage.

In a surprisingly short time the schoolhouse was saved from destruction and order restored. The men called for the women and children to return to the square. And called again. But not one woman, girl or male below the age of twelve put in an appearance.

* * *

Anna ached with exhaustion but she forced her fingers over the keys of the small church organ. With the help of Mrs. Billings and John the footman, she had gathered the women and children into the church to pray for the men fighting the fire. When the smallest children began to cry, Anna offered to play so they could sing. Brave Mrs. Billings led the songs, even though her house was in danger of being destroyed.

Even as she played, she still shuddered at the memory of the burning effigy. Or, rather, the frayed linen gown that burned so quickly, for it brought back a tragic scene. A dear woman in Blandon had burned to death after her chemise caught fire as she stirred a pot over her hearth. Anna had to help prepare the body for burial while
Papá
tried to comfort the grief-stricken husband and child. To imagine someone dying by fire brought her no pleasure, no matter how wicked Guy Fawkes and his fellow conspirators had been to plot the king’s murder.

The church door flew open and a gust of cold wind blew into the stone sanctuary. A soot-covered Major Grenville marched in, followed by Mr. Partridge and all the men of the village. Anna ceased her playing and unbidden emotion welled up within her. As though it were a Sunday morning service, the men found their families and filed into their customary pews. The major moved into the front row where his family always sat. When his gaze met hers, he sent her a warm smile, and heat rose up in her face to rival the earlier conflagration at the schoolhouse.

After Mr. Partridge informed a much-relieved Mrs. Billings that her home was saved, he took his place behind the pulpit, but not before he gave Anna an approving nod. To her relief, nothing in his demeanor indicated any feeling toward her beyond his position as her pastor.

“Thank you, Miss Newfield, Mrs. Billings, for helping these mothers keep the children out of danger and happily occupied. The fire is out, and Will Thatcher says the roof can be easily repaired. We have much to be thankful for. Let us pray.”

Uncertain about what she should do, Anna remained on the organ bench with head bowed while the vicar offered up thanks. After his “amen,” he dismissed the congregation, and she hurried to embrace Mrs. Billings. To her surprise, Mr. Partridge then claimed the teacher’s attention. From his tender expression, it appeared the lady would be the next object of his interest.

“You did not obey orders, Miss Newfield.” Major Grenville leaned on his cane and loomed over her. “You were to go to the manor house with John the footman, whom I must also charge with disobeying orders.” His obvious effort to look menacing was thoroughly ruined by the twinkle in his eyes and the grin he could not hide.

“Ah, but you gave no order to me, Major.” She crossed her arms and glowered up at him. “As for John, he still can escort me back to the Lodge now that I am prepared to go.” A mischievous smile tugged at her lips. She could no more keep her own joy at bay than he could. They gazed at each other for a space of time she could not measure until each seemed to recall they were not alone. Anna inhaled a deep breath, filling her lungs with cold, refreshing air. “God is merciful and kind.”

“Indeed He is.” The humor in his expression faded into tranquillity. “Shall we go?”

“But I have not yet discharged my duty.” Anna nodded toward the boxes and baskets at the front of the church.

The major chuckled. “That would be the cause of much disappointment amongst the children.”

“And no doubt among the adults as well.”

After a word to Mr. Partridge about their plans, they moved to the door of the church and dispensed the sweetmeats and gingerbread as the parishioners left the building.

By the time every man, woman and child had received a tasty treat, weariness had drawn deep lines around the major’s eyes. Anna imagined her own face must appear just as weary. As if comprehending her longing for rest, he summoned the three footmen, and they began their walk back to the manor. She noticed the severity of his limp and longed to offer her shoulder as support. But even if such contact were not improper, she feared her offer might injure his pride.

At last they arrived at the Lodge, where the silence and dimly lit interior suggested everyone had gone to bed. The footmen dismissed, Anna and the major trudged up the front stairs to the landing.

“Get some sleep, dear lady.” He grasped her hand and kissed it. “You have done well this night.”

“And you performed heroically, sir.”
In spite of your pain.
Anna wondered how he could remain on his feet.

Once again, they gazed at each other without speaking for uncounted seconds, or perhaps minutes.

The sound of coughing came from the direction of Lord Greystone’s room, and they both stepped back.

“He sounds better.” Anna felt warm in spite of the hallway draft.