Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

F or the most part Carswell’s stay with the Waverlys had been uneventful. They breakfasted in the mornings, spent the day hunting or with some entertainment with neighbors, then dined in the evening.

General Waverly’s nephews came and went as they pleased, the two oldest having homes nearby. But most of their time was spent at Haverton, especially the youngest who more often than not made himself a pest where Miss Julianna was concerned.

However, on their fourth morning in residence, Carswell found himself alone in the breakfast parlor. After three days of noise the quiet was a blessed relief. He took time to savor his food as he stared out the window at the blustery day. Some might consider the dreary weather depressing, but it lifted his spirits considerably. There would be few activities out of doors today. Perhaps he’d make his way to the library and read a book.

“It has been such a delight having you here,” Mrs. Waverly said from the hall. “I only wish your mother could have accompanied you.”

Carswell sighed. It seemed his peace would not last.

Kaye rounded the corner into the room, Mrs. Waverly on his arm. “It is quite the journey from Kettering and she did not wish to be far from my sister as her confinement nears.”

“How are all of your sisters?”

The chatter continued as Kaye relayed all the recent news of his four younger siblings, many of whom were married and settled not far from Bartly Lodge. Carswell listened with half an ear until Mrs. Waverly took over the conversation.

“Now that I have you both here, I want to ask your opinion on something. My Henry has been restless of late and I fear he is very unhappy. He misses the activity of the Royal Army and has even mentioned that he might return.”

“That would be wonderful,” Carswell said. “The army is always in need of men as well trained as the general.”

Mrs. Waverly frowned and Kaye gave a subtle shake of his head.

“Perhaps it would be good for the army,” she said, “but not for me and definitely not for my husband. Perhaps you do not remember, Lord Bingham, but he was injured quite badly at Waterloo and so was relieved of service.”

“I did not.” He'd been in and out of fever for weeks after his own injuries and so sick the surgeons had given up on him, but Kaye had not. He’d stayed with him round the clock making sure he got what he needed to survive.

Kaye speared a piece of kipper. “Lord Bingham suffered his own injury and sickness at Waterloo.”

Mrs. Waverly’s gaze strayed to his hand. No one had said anything, but it did not take people that long to notice his ailment. Thankfully most chose not to speak of it, at least in front of him. They probably babbled incessantly about his unfortunate hand behind closed doors. Slowly he slipped the offending appendage off the table and into his lap.

“Yes… well.” She fidgeted with her napkin. “My husband is getting to an age that he needs to be home. Since we did not have a gathering when he returned due to the time he needed to recover, I would like to have something special now to celebrate him.”

Kaye put down his fork and dabbed at his mouth. “What did you have in mind?”

“My nieces have the most exquisite voices and Beth plays the pianoforte with such finesse. Henry adores listening to them, but it has been years since he’s had the pleasure. I thought we might have a musicale, and I could surprise him by inviting a few men with whom he served. Might I solicit your help in this? I remember a few names, but I thought you both would know far more.”

Carswell glanced at his friend. Kaye shrugged. Why she had chosen the two of them, he could not comprehend. While he’d worked with General Waverly, he’d not paid attention to which officers the man had struck up a friendship. What if there were certain men he’d wish to have at such an event, ones who would lighten his spirits, but whom Carswell did not know?

Mrs. Waverly adjusted her position in her seat. “I have also heard that you both possess admirable vocal talent as well.”

He nearly groaned out loud. Casting Kaye a sidelong glance, he then returned his attention to their hostess. “Not to the level of most.”

Why he had agreed to sing with Kaye the night before battle he still did not completely understand. But after weeks of wheedling, the man had broken him down only to turn and humiliate him. They should have practiced at least once, then he would have known about Kaye’s talent—or the lack thereof.

“Come now, it is not only my husband who insists on your talent, but several of the officer’s wives who were at the Richmonds’ Ball have reported on your splendid voices.”

Kaye grinned. “Do not mind Lord Bingham. He is far too humble in his acceptance of praise. We would love to sing for you.”

Carswell shot him a quailing look, but Kaye ignored him.

“Excellent.” The plump little lady clapped her hands. “Now remember, this is to be a surprise. Well, not the musicale, but the guests and your own number. I will need to let Waverly know not to schedule anything.”

“Very good, Mrs. Waverly. And what day can we expect to perform?”

Carswell wanted to knock Kaye upside the head. He knew how much Carswell disliked public displays.

“Shall we have it the afternoon before the masquerade and make it a full day of entertainment? That way our guests might listen to marvelous music before making preparations for the ball.”

Kaye rose from his chair. “Excellent. Bingham and I will compile names for your invitations and prepare a piece to sing.”

“Thank you.”

Kaye bid them farewell and Carswell could do nothing but stare after his retreating figure.

“Such an affable fellow,” Mrs. Waverly said, “and so helpful too.”

“Indeed,” Carswell said. Daniel Kaye was so helpful he just might help him over a cliff one day.

Carswell smiled politely across the table at the young woman who looked like she had something caught in her eyes. The incessant batting of her lashes was completely ridiculous, but he could not be rude to his host and hostess’s guests. He was grateful that the woman and her two older sisters were not part of the house party.

Not that there were many others. Mr. and Mrs. Papworth, the elderly cousins of Mrs. Waverly, spent the majority of their days sitting in the parlor reading by the fire. In truth, they seemed wholly unaware of most of the goings on at Haverton, only interested in the most sedate pursuits that Mrs. Waverly had to offer them.

Kaye’s promise of other military men was a hollow one, something Carswell should have expected. Nothing had been as he’d expected since his arrival.

A high-pitched titter caught his attention and he glanced again at the girl across from him. While Mr. and Mrs. Crane were decent people, and he was sure were fine neighbors to the Waverlys, Carswell had no desire to get to know any of their daughters. But the moment they all heard he held a title, they’d each taken their turn at making fools of themselves in an effort to get his attention.

“Is the veal to your liking?” One side of Miss Haynes’s mouth twitched.

She was not hiding her amusement very well, but Carswell was relieved that she was his dinner companion and not one of the Crane women.

“It is awfully young and a bit brazen.”

She choked on her sip of wine and he handed her his serviette. When she’d gained control over her coughing, she cast him a mock glare.

“My apologies,” he whispered. But he was not completely sorry. That she had understood his remark at all was a testament to her wit and intelligence, but to find the humor in it—well, he needed no further proof that Miss Haynes was truly unique. But the last few days had already proven that time and again.

He’d observed her with a multitude of people, from parishioners, to neighbors, and even with her cousins. She was polite to all, but she did not fall for any of their traps—especially those set by her sister.

Down the table Miss Julianna sat with the eldest Mr. Waverly. He’d not missed her various attempts to leave her sister alone with him. However, he’d also not minded the times she’d distracted Mrs. Barker so he could speak with Miss Haynes alone, something she was apparently adept at, especially when she had help.

On the other side of the table, Kaye hardly listened to the middle Miss Crane. The woman droned on in a voice far too loud for a dinner party about her talent in painting screens, but Kaye’s attention was decidedly focused on his plate. When he glanced up, a scowl marred his handsome features.

Carswell leaned close to Miss Haynes’s ear, relishing the scent of roses before he whispered, “Methinks Mr. Kaye is a bit taken with your sister.”

Her head snapped up and she observed the other end of the table. Instead of smiling, she frowned. “He does not look pleased.”

“No, because Mr. Waverly is keeping her highly entertained at the moment. I know jealousy when I see it.”

“I suppose that could be the case.”

“I must warn you though, he’s a bit flighty.”

“So is Julianna. Flighty and far too quick to think highly of people.”

Carswell frowned. Miss Haynes apparently held a bit of a cynical streak that he’d not seen before. “I think we should all think highly of others until they have proven us wrong, do you not?”

“I do not. It is imperative that we hold others on level ground until they prove that they deserve a higher place in our regard. That way if they fall, it will not be a far drop, and if they rise they will not have to step up so far.”

He studied her, pondering the logic of her statement. That sort of rationale stemmed from a place of hurt, but he did not wish to disagree with her.

“I suppose that is a sensible approach.” He glanced down at his plate. As of yet he had not cut into his meat, choosing instead to eat the potatoes which he could spear easily. Before tonight, their meat had been easily broken with a fork which he knew appeared strange as he ate with the wrong hand, but the veal needed the work of a knife.

He glanced up to find Miss Haynes peering at him. Without a word she quickly switched their plates, placing her perfectly cut meat in front of him. He stared at her a moment, but she did not lift her head as she set to work cutting the meat. After a moment she placed a piece in her mouth, and he took his cue.

A shy smile graced her lips when he took the first bite off her plate. The veal was far better than he’d ever tasted. Was it possible for food to taste better simply because a beautiful woman had cut it? Or perhaps it was the kindness that made it more flavorful? Whichever it was, he was grateful.

Mrs. Waverly clapped her hands once everyone was seated in the drawing room.

“I have a very important announcement. My dear husband has agreed that this year we should have a musicale and what better time to hold it then when my two beautiful and talented nieces are in residence?”

Miss Julianna glanced at her sister, but Miss Haynes chose instead to inspect her gloves. Odd. He knew her to be a bit reserved, but the way she avoided her sister and aunt’s gaze indicated discomfort.

“We will hold it the afternoon of Twelfth Night, and we should like to invite all of you to participate,” Mrs. Waverly continued. “We will, of course, invite many of the gentry here about, but we wanted you to be the first to know.”

The Crane sisters began chattering in delight and Mrs. Waverly appeared pleased with herself. No one seemed to notice the silent conversation going on between the Haynes sisters as their eyes met and Miss Haynes shook her head at Miss Julianna. The concern etched on Miss Julianna’s face intrigued him.

Someone stepped into his line of sight and Carswell tried to peer around him, but Mr. Caleb Waverly blocked his view.

Kaye rose from a chair across the room and approached the settee where Miss Julianna sat. When he disappeared behind the youngest Waverly, Carswell thought he might need to intervene. His friend had become increasingly surly toward the apprentice barrister the last few days due to his continued insistence on remaining so close to Miss Julianna.

“Caleb,” the general called from the other end of the room, “come hear what Mr. Crane has to say about that piece of property you have had an interest in.”

Mr. Caleb Waverly glanced at his uncle, irritation evident in the set of his shoulders and the slant of his eyebrows. But he smoothed it away, good breeding winning out.

Grateful for the general’s intervention, Carswell crossed the room to Miss Haynes.

“Care to take a turn about the room?” he asked when he reached her.

“I would, thank you.” Miss Haynes’s fingers fluttered at her throat a moment before settling back in her lap.

It was an odd idiosyncrasy that he’d witnessed multiple times since they’d arrived and he wondered at its significance. Was she nervous?

The oldest Miss Crane sitting nearest her glanced between them and frowned. Carswell tried to ignore her, but the way she peered at Miss Haynes made him uneasy. Was she the competitive type that made things miserable for other ladies if her gentleman of choice preferred company other than hers?

A subtle move from that quarter as Miss Haynes rose answered the question, but Carswell was ready, deftly catching her when her skirt snagged on the foot that had accidentally landed on it. For the second time in less than a week he found himself staring into her pretty blue eyes.

“Thank you again, Lord Bingham,” she said with a smile. “You are a handy person to have about. I only wish I did not find myself in so many situations where you had to play the rescuer.”

His lips tipped up. “And deprive me of the chance to be a knight on a white horse?” He made certain she had her footing, then let go.

Her eyes danced. “Do you aspire to knighthood? I would think it a step down from a baron.”

“Yes, but far more romantic. Why else would so many writers and poets immortalize them in their work?”

“I had not taken you for a romantic.”

They began a slow circuit. Truthfully, he was not, but having a woman around as intriguing as Miss Haynes made him think more on the comfort of a wife than he ever had before.

“I suppose I am as inclined as the next person to adopt the fanciful dream of love.”

“A dream? Do you not hold love as a fact?”

“It is hard to view an emotion as concrete when one has little experience with it.”

Miss Haynes pursed her lips. “Have you not felt the love of a parent or sibling?”

He nearly snorted in derision. “My mother passed away when I was young and my father could hardly be bothered with a second son. As for my older brother, we were never close in age or ideals. I do have a younger sister of whom I am fond.”

“And you do not consider that love?”

How had they gotten onto such a frank discussion of his personal life? He was supposed to be asking her about her dislike of the musicale.

“Perhaps, but it holds none of the attributes of the type of love written about in books.”

“To be sure, but it is a start. Love is not a dream, Lord Bingham, but a reality.” She pushed a blonde curl out of her face and muttered something.

He swore he heard her say “ sometimes a painful one ” but that could not be right. Certainly such a firm believer in love as she would ascribe to the idyllic imagery of eternal happiness and joy.

“I will have to take your word on the subject until I have my own experience.” He glanced around at the room's occupants before returning his focus to her.

Her cheeks flushed. “Forgive me. This is hardly an appropriate discussion for a drawing room where so many might overhear and possibly misunderstand.”

“There is nothing to forgive. But I understand, perhaps we should speak of other things.”

Silence settled between them. He’d not meant to make her uncomfortable. They passed the large stone hearth, the warmth of the blaze a little too overwhelming when he got this close. Near the windows he finally gathered his courage to ask about her distressed expression from earlier.

“What are your thoughts on Mrs. Waverly’s musicale?”

“I should have liked to have been informed before she announced such an undertaking to the others.”

“She did not approach you about performing?”

“No. If she had, I would have let her know that I have not sung in years and have no intention to do so any time in the future.”

Miss Haynes stared out the window. While she may have stayed by him physically, her thoughts appeared to be far away. What memory was she visiting?

“I know it is none of my affair, but might I inquire why you have refrained from using what others are lauding as a glorious talent?”

She gave him a sideways glance. “Are you always this impertinent?”

He ducked his head, embarrassed that he’d even asked.

“I stopped singing after my intended broke our understanding.”

His head shot up, surprised and honored that she’d chosen to trust him. “You were engaged?”

“No, not exactly. Edward and I grew up together. Everyone expected us to wed one day; I expected it… but apparently he changed his mind. He is happy now, though. The proud father of two sons from what I understand.”

The offhanded way she spoke of her former beau did not deceive him. She stood as still as the statue on the nearby table and pain was etched in the lines of her face.

Carswell lowered his voice. “He is a fool.”

“No, I am… for thinking he actually loved me.” She turned to face him. “But in turn I learned that love is far more than a dream. It is a reality, both beautiful and painful. And while I would not want anyone to learn about love as I did, I could never wish the experience away from them.”

Carswell searched her earnest face. Who was this strong woman who, in spite of her pain, still clung to the hope of love?

“Then,” he said, placing a hand on her shoulder, “you should sing.”

She sputtered a laugh. “How did you derive such an interpretation from what I have shared?”

He loved the way her eyes crinkled when she smiled. “Because this Edward, unworthy as he may be, already walked away with your heart. Why give him your voice as well?”

She blinked several times, opening and closing her mouth as if she wished to dispute his words.

“There you are,” Miss Julianna said, taking hold of her sister's arm. A flick of her eyes made Carswell turn. Mr. Caleb Waverly followed not far behind.

He sighed. It seemed his discussion with Miss Haynes would have to wait. He needed to play the role of knight in shining armor yet again.