The Pursuit (18 page)

The boys looked more than a little doubtful, but when Juliana mentioned it to Niki, she looked game.

“I think a romp in the forest sounds lovely.”

“You do?” Richard questioned. “It’s muddy.”

“I think I can survive a bit of mud,” Niki told them, crossing her eyes for good measure.

The twins ended up grinning at her and grew even more excited when Juliana said she would go along as well.

The women let the boys lead, trailing after their laughter and shouts of excitement.

“I’ve made a decision,” Niki quietly told her friend.

“The letter from your Aunt Mary?” Juliana guessed. Niki had already mentioned it.

“Yes. She’s invited us to stay with her.”

“And you’re going?”

“In March.”

For a moment Juliana stopped and faced Niki. She smiled at her friend, even though her heart squeezed in pain. Her first inclination was to look after her own heart, but she knew that wasn’t fair.

“Are you a little afraid?”

“A little. I’ve depended on the two of you for so long now that I’m not sure what I’ll do.”

“Well!” Juliana became all at once logical. “We’re not going anywhere without telling you, so what you’ll do is come right back to us.”

Niki hugged her almost fiercely.

“Tell Gar for me, Jules,” she whispered. “I don’t think I can.”

“I’ll take care of it.”

The women separated and moved after the boys. Both were covered in mud, and very soon the women were not much better. Nevertheless, they laughed and enjoyed themselves. If the laughter was strained at times, no one commented; both knew the recent decision was for the best. Crying wouldn’t change a thing.

Her plans made, Niki sat down that night with paper, quill, and ink. The letter was simply put and gave nothing away.

Dear Aunt Mary,

Thank you for your kind offer. I shall come and bring the boys. We shall arrive in mid-March. We will not stay if this will not work. It’s doubtful you’ll be able to get a letter back to me in time. Once we arrive, do not hesitate to tell me if you’ve changed your mind. Even if we can’t stay, it will be lovely to see you.

Thank you again,
Niki

Collingbourne,
England

Chapter Ten

March 1813

Edward Steele sat comfortably back in the coach as it took him toward Collingbourne. His brother, Henry, had been ready to join him for a brief shopping trip but realized he had some pressing unfinished business on his desk.

None of Edward’s needs were very urgent, but his friend and brother-in-law, Thomas Morland, was soon to have a birthday, and he wanted to look for a gift. Benwick, the local merchant, could always be trusted for his wares, and Edward headed there first. If the trip afforded a stop at Gray’s tearoom before he left town, well, that was only a bonus.

Dressed warmly, since middle March could be on the cool side, Edward kept the curtains down until they arrived in town. He’d told the coachman where he wanted to go, and when he saw that they’d pulled up in front of Benwick’s, he moved toward the door. The coachman beat him to it, holding it wide for him to emerge.

“I think you’d better wait,” Edward requested.

“Yes, sir.”

His hat in place, he stepped toward the door, his mind already wondering what he might find. The chaotic order of the interior never failed to fascinate him. Over the years he’d found the mundane and the unusual and, on occasion, the spectacular. Hoping for just such a find today, he began his search along the shelves.

He hadn’t gone very far when he heard voices. For a moment he couldn’t place their location and then realized they were from far below him. Glancing down and to the end of the aisle, he saw two little boys. They were talking excitedly in a mixture of English and French, and they were studying Edward’s Hessian boots.

Edward watched them for a moment, but they never looked higher than his knees. Not able to resist, he went toward them and hunkered down to their level.

“Hello, boys. How are you?”

“You have Hessian boots,” one of them said, not wasting time with niceties.

“Yes, do you have some?”

As though they’d been waiting to tell someone for years, they began to speak about it to Edward, still in the amusing mixture of French and English.

“We want Hessian boots,” one child said.

“But Mama refuses,” the other filled in.

“She says they’re too expensive.”

“It’s because we’re going to grow.”

Edward nodded a bit, trying to take in the disjointed sentences even as he studied their identical faces with their perfect skin and straight, blond hair. Edward had decided they were beautiful just as they stopped and looked up at him.

“I’m Edward,” he began, putting out his hand. “And you would be?”

“Christopher,” that child supplied, shaking Edward’s hand with a bit of awe.

“Hello, Christopher. And you would be?”

“Richard,” the other boy said with a smile, liking this man who, though younger than Gar, was nevertheless kind as he was.

“How old are you, Christopher and Richard?”

“Five,” they said together.

“Five is pretty old, but I’ll tell you boys something: I didn’t have Hessian boots when I was five either.”

“You didn’t?” They looked as stricken by this as they were by their own plight.

“No. I was older before I got my first pair.”

“How old?” Richard wished to know.

“I can’t remember exactly, but older than five.”

Edward watched as the two adorable faces turned to each other, exchanging a glance of exasperation and camaraderie. Edward wanted to laugh as he watched them. He was just getting ready to question them again when he realized he was being watched. He glanced up to find James Walker looking at him, a huge smile on his face. Edward pushed to a standing position, his knees creaking a bit.

“Hello, Walker. Are these yours?”

“No, but Christopher and Richard are staying with us for a while.”

“Grandchildren?”

“No. Mrs Walker’s niece is also with us.”

“Well,” he said, looking back down to the boys, who were studying his feet again. “You’re sure to have fun.”

“Indeed,” Walker agreed. “Mrs Walker always wanted twins and can’t get enough of these two. We’ll see you later, Edward. Come along, boys,” Walker instructed. Edward waved when they looked his way. He smiled as they stole a last glance at his boots.

Edward went back to his search for a gift and found what he was looking for, but he wanted to laugh every time he remembered Christopher and Richard.

Pembroke

Alexander Tate told his wife, Cassandra, sister to Edward Steele, that he had a headache. A fall from a horse a little more than a year before had brought to Tate a time of blindness. For this reason Cassandra was always a little concerned when his head pained him.

“Shall I read to you?” she asked solicitously, coming near the sofa where he lay in the music room and taking his hand.

“No, I don’t think so.”

“A cool cloth?”

“No.” His voice was quiet, and Cassandra stood in indecision.

“I know it’s not your favorite, Cassie,” Tate suggested, “but maybe if you played softly on the piano…”

“Of course I will,” she told him without hesitation, heading to that instrument just seconds later and getting situated before the keys.

Tate settled himself a little more comfortably and waited for the music to begin. Cassandra chose a soft piece, a lullaby, because she thought Tate might wish to drop off to sleep. Playing the piano was not her favorite pastime—she didn’t care for her level of skill—but she made an effort to please her husband.

About halfway though the piece, Cassandra glanced at the man prone on the davenport and noticed that although his eyes were closed, his smile was huge. Wondering how he could look so pleased when he was in such pain, she continued to watch him. She looked to the music from time to time, but her eyes searched her husband steadily. For this reason Cassandra knew the exact moment he caught himself and schooled his features.

Seeing it, Cassandra had a smile of her own. Ever so gently and softly she finished the piece, her fingers as light as she could make them.

“Something else, dear?” she asked gently.

“Please,” Tate murmured, well satisfied with himself on hearing the rustle of pages.

Without warning, Cassandra pounded the keys with a boisterous piece, not worrying about missed notes, timing, or tempo. As she watched, her husband shot into a sitting position on the sofa and turned to gawk at her. Cassandra’s look was sweetness itself, and Tate knew he’d been found out.

Laughing at his own little joke, Tate came to his feet to approach her, but Cassandra had other ideas. She came off the piano bench in a flash and put the piano between them.

“
I know it’s not your favorite, Cassie, but play something softly on the piano,”
she mimicked him, her eyes flashing with something between humor and vexation.

“Come now, Cassie,” Tate coaxed, laughter filling his voice as he tried to get close to her. “You have to admit that it was a little bit funny.”

Cassandra bit her lip to keep from laughing and said, “I thought the funny part was your sitting up in surprise.”

“What gave me away?” Tate asked, hoping she wouldn’t notice the way he moved relentlessly after her.

“I saw that huge smile when you didn’t think I was looking. And don’t you come near me, Alexander Tate!”

“We can’t have that.” He was still chuckling. “I think this constitutes a fight. We’ve got to kiss and get over it.”

“Absolutely not! I thought you actually had a headache. That was a terrible thing to do.”

“I might get one if you don’t kiss me.”

“If you get one, you deserve it.”

Tate was done stalking her. They had circled the piano during the entire conversation, and now he was through. He rushed at Cassandra, whose legs were much shorter, but she dashed around the davenport to avoid him. Tate stood in front of it, his eyes telling Cassandra he was up to the challenge.