The Headmistress of Rosemere (32 page)

“I cannot imagine that anything you have to say to my mother could upset her.”

“Oh, but it is big news, and if I thought she was not pleased with my union with her son, it could be quite disastrous. Perhaps if you give me your opinion, it will help me decide how best to proceed.”

Patience prepared herself to hear her sister-in-law’s news. Heaven knows she’d already heard enough in one day that she should be shocked at nothing. Interest piqued, Patience braced herself. “You may tell me anything.”

Lydia wrung her hands as she stood there, her eyes bright. “I am with child, Patience.”

Patience had been wrong. She had been prepared to hear anything . . . but that.

Patience sank down in the chair, hiding her alarm behind a smile. Suddenly, it made sense. How pale Lydia had been in the morning. Her dizzy spells. The appropriate words seemed to slide from her lips without much intention. “I am so happy for you and Rawdon. How are you feeling?”

Lydia smiled and pressed her hand to her middle, and it was only then that Patience noticed the small bump on her slight figure.
“I am doing well. I was so worried, for my older sister was quite ill, but I have managed to be fine.” Her hand flitted up to her hair, then back down over her midsection. “I have to admit, I feel relieved to have been able to tell you my news.”

Guilt pressed on Patience’s chest. She may have a hard time accepting Rawdon, but her sister-in-law had given her no reason to mistrust or dislike her. “I am glad you told me.”

“Should I tell your mother?” Lydia’s concern was obvious. “It is big news, indeed. And sudden. Of course, she will notice for herself soon enough, but she has dealt with so much in the last couple of weeks. Do you think it will be too much for her? I do so worry for her.”

Patience was skeptical. She wondered how much of Lydia’s concern was fear for her mother and how much was fear of their mother’s disapproval. But either way, it was not her place to make a judgment. There were so many children bustling around Rosemere. But they were other people’s children. She’d always thought that the first infant at Rosemere would be her own.

But it was not to be. She was unmarried. The first child would be Rawdon’s.

Patience chided herself at the foolish tears gathering in her eyes. It was not the time for selfish regret. “My dear Lydia, it would be unfair of her to be anything but excited for this new addition to the family! A baby is always a cause for joy. I think this is the best medicine for Mother.”

Her sister-in-law rushed forward and embraced her. A spark of connectedness shivered through Patience. But her face ached with the effort it took to smile. “Does Rawdon know that you were going to tell me?”

Lydia nodded. “He does. He said he thought you would probably have figured it out, since you are so observant.”

An embarrassed chuckle rattled from her chest. She’d been so
preoccupied with the happenings that she had noticed little. On many fronts. “Well, he was wrong. I had not suspected a thing. But I am glad.”

Lydia smiled. “Good. Then Rawdon and I will tell her later today. Thank you for your advice.”

Patience watched as Lydia hurried from the room in a swish of yellow satin and rose-scented water. But then, as she was about to reach the threshold, she turned. “Oh, how could I have forgotten?” Her expression changed from that of an expectant mother to that of a young schoolgirl in seconds. She hurried back and lowered her voice in a whisper. “I came to speak with you earlier today and saw Mr. O’Connell leaving this room.”

Patience regarded her sister-in-law’s wide eyes and mischievous grin. Questions disguised themselves in her statement, and unsure of what Lydia was about, Patience folded her arms across her chest protectively. “Yes.”

Lydia wrinkled her nose and giggled. “Rawdon told me of your past with Mr. O’Connell. I do hope you do not mind his telling me, but now that we are sisters, I doubt you will. He told me that you parted ways in an abrupt fashion when you were both much younger. It seems as if fate is reuniting you.” Lydia’s eyebrow raised, and a smile parted her lips.

Patience felt uncomfortable under her sister-in-law’s scrutinizing look. She recognized a leading question when she heard one, and no doubt Lydia wanted to know details. Considering what she was already aware of, she likely knew that Ewan meant to propose. Again. Even though Lydia had been so forthcoming with her personal secret did not mean that Patience was ready to do the same. Not yet.

“Yes, he was here.”

Lydia looked at her expectantly. “And? Did he say anything of interest?”

“No.”

“Oh.” Lydia headed for the door but turned back with a teasing smile. “Well, I feel certain he could well have something interesting to say soon.”

And with that she quitted the room.

29

W
illiam watched the gangly, long-legged colt in the stall. Hours old, he was already on wobbly, knob-kneed legs and nursing from his mother.

“All that waiting and now the lad is here,” Lewis said.

William always found it amazing when a new horse was born, but it had been so long since he’d last witnessed a birth that he found it amazing all over again.

He’d expected something to go wrong. For that was his fate of late. He’d expected the horse to be stillborn. To have a deficiency. To have something happen to his mare. But nothing of the sort occurred. The foal was even a male. ’Twould bring a greater amount, and in light of what happened with his textile prospect, he needed money more than ever.

Lewis draped his arms over the stone wall of the stall and looked down at the foal. He scratched his disheveled hair. “Good-looking animal.”

They had moved mother and baby to the stall next to the
birthing stall, and William had been shoveling up the soiled straw. “Let’s hope he takes after his papa.”

Lewis reached over to pat the mother on the neck. “Good girl,” he cooed, and they watched as the foal again began to nurse. “He’ll be strong.”

William thought about his brief prayer. Had God heard him? Perhaps. But he could not breathe easy. Not yet. “I am going to write Bley to let him know the horse has been delivered and is here. Give him the opportunity to speak for him before he is weaned. I’ll take the letter to town. There should be time to get it posted today.”

“Are you sure you don’t want me to take it to town?”

“No, you finish up here. Been a long day. I could use a ride.”

The men worked in silence until William finished with the stall, then he hurried to the library. How many times he had sat here to pen a missive, but never had it seemed more crucial. To Bley, it would probably seem like just a courtesy note. But to William, it signified much more. If Bley would endorse him as a breeder, find success with one of Slaten’s offspring, his plans stood a chance.

William rode to town, but instead of taking the shortcut over Wainslow Peak, he rode out to the main road. After posting his letter in Darbury’s main square, he’d planned to head straight back to Eastmore Hall. But a flash of pink and green caught his eye.

Lydia Creighton was on the opposite side of the street, peering in the window of the milliner’s shop, looking more suited to the streets of London than the sleepy town of Darbury. A pink gown hung from beneath her dark green, velvet pelisse, and a jaunty red feather plumed from her black cap. True to fashion, she was not out alone but with her maid, who was carrying a brown package beneath each arm.

He thought he’d be able to turn down the alley next to Griffin’s
End and escape without being seen, but she turned, and when she did, a smile lit her face.

He’d been seen.

She waved her gloved hand in the air. “Mr. Sterling! Oh, Mr. Sterling!”

He froze. It was too late. To leave now would be rude, and if he expected to raise Emma, he not only needed to be on good terms with Mr. Rawdon Creighton but with his wife as well.

He walked across the street and bowed. “Mrs. Creighton. Pleasure to see you.”

“Mr. Sterling. Just the man I was hoping to see.”

He looked past her. “I am surprised to see you without your sister-in-law.”

“Oh, I am sure you know Patience. So busy with the school, she barely has time for herself. So I thought I would treat her to a new bonnet. What do you think?” She surprised him by opening one of the boxes there in the street and holding a straw bonnet with an emerald green bow. “Should be becoming with her dark hair and green eyes, do you not agree?”

He was hardly an expert on women’s hats, but he supposed the straw bonnet with a wide brim was nice enough. He allowed his mind to imagine what Miss Creighton would look like, her black hair and full lips.

Without giving him an opportunity to respond, she tucked the bonnet away. “In fact, I am pleased that I have met you here. You see, I am hosting a dinner tomorrow at Rosemere, just a small gathering, and Mr. Creighton and I would be honored if you would attend.”

His interest was piqued. Miss Creighton would be there, surely. He could talk to her about Emma. And about . . . other things. “I’d be delighted, Mrs. Creighton.”

“Good.” She rewarded him with a good-natured smile and
returned the hat box to the solemn-faced maid. “You shall be in attendance, and I have invited the Hammonds and, of course, Mr. O’Connell will be there.”

William thanked her for the invitation, tipped his hat, and walked back across the road to Angus. He shifted and adjusted his collar to guard against the wind. With the twinkle in her eye and the coy smile on her lips, he was certain Mrs. Lydia Creighton was up to something. He could prove nothing, and he knew little of her other than her talent for drawing silhouettes, but there was a motive behind her innocent invitation to dinner.

William retrieved his horse, mounted, and guided Angus back down the main road. He paused only slightly as he passed the main gate to Rosemere, with its formidable stone walls, intricate iron gate, and bits of ivy. His daughter was in there. He needed a plan. He’d formulate one tonight and then reveal all tomorrow.

Patience wove through the rows of easels as the girls stood in the library, looking out to the frozen moors. How she had loved painting as a young girl. She’d never had much talent for it, but she had enjoyed studying the details of nature and trying to capture the beauty.

She placed her hand on Ivy’s shoulder as she passed. “Lovely,” she exclaimed. But as she turned, a sharp cry echoed from in the house, a door slammed, and something crashed to the floor. The girls gasped and looked toward Patience, then a whisper circled among the students. Patience brushed past one of the other teachers, giving her instructions to oversee the children, then hurried from the room.

She entered the main hall, and Rawdon, face flushed and hair disheveled, was running down the stairs, taking them two at a time. His lips were pinched together in a fine line. When his eyes landed
on Patience, he pointed his finger at her. “Of all of the unreasonable women,” he sputtered, “she is the most ridiculous.”

He stomped down the main hall, and for a moment Patience only stared after him, stunned at the emotional display. She wondered about following him. Their conversations since he had returned to Rosemere had been short. Terse. But regardless of what had transpired, he was still her brother.

Her only brother.

She decided to follow him and found him in the library, by the sideboard, pouring himself a glass of brandy. He shot it down his throat and poured another.

Patience slipped quietly into the room. She wondered if he was referring to their mother or his bride, but she didn’t have to wait long to learn the answer to her question.

“I thought that she of all people would be pleased to learn she would be a grandmother.”

Patience sat on the settee and folded her hands on her lap. It appeared as if he had finally realized the change in their mother’s personality in a most personal way. “What happened?”

He replaced the decanter stopper and paced the room. “I still cannot figure it out. Lydia told you our news, and we went to tell Mother. I don’t know what happened. Mother flew into a rage and accused Lydia of trapping me—as if Lydia could be capable of such a thing. I tried to speak reason to her, but she would not listen. The next thing, Lydia locked herself in our room and is refusing to come out or let me in.”