Chapter Two

“S even, eight, nine, ten—ready or not, here I come!” Arabella Canning pulled her hands away from her eyes and looked about the room. It only took her a moment to find Charlie. He had hidden by the window, making an enormous lump in the curtain. Though most of his body was covered, the toe of one small shoe poked out.

But Arabella knew better than to let on that she knew where her godson had hidden himself. “Where’s Charlie? I don’t see him anywhere!” The shape behind the curtain giggled.

Arabella rose to her feet and tiptoed with exaggerated care across the floor to the sofa. “Is he under the sofa?” The sofa was so low to the ground that Charlie would have to be flattened like a pancake to fit beneath it, but she squatted down and peered beneath the furniture, as if it were a likely hiding place. “No Charlie! Where could he be?”

The giggling grew louder, and Charlie peeked out from behind the curtain. But Arabella pretended not to see him. Instead, she shaded her eyes with one hand and peered around the room. “He must be very good at hiding,” she declared. “ Much better than his godmother.”

Two momentous things happened almost simultaneously. First, Charlie flung the curtain aside and crowed with delight. “I’m right here, Aunt Arabella! And I win again !”

Only a moment later, the butler opened the morning room door and announced, “Mr. Kirkland.”

Arabella whirled around, her brows arched in surprise. Caroline had said nothing about her father coming to visit. In fact, Mr. Kirkland had been very ill just two weeks ago. When Arabella left for her visit, the curate was still handling all the services at St. Mark’s. She could not imagine what exigency could have driven Mr. Kirkland to travel so far while in bad health.

But the man who walked in the door was not the aging vicar of St. Mark’s. It was, instead, a much younger man of moderate height and unassuming appearance. Not the vicar, but the vicar’s only son.

“Belle!” George Kirkland’s broad grin transformed his appearance. There was nothing distinctive or memorable about his features in themselves, but his smile made him downright charming. Maybe that was the effect of his crooked left eyetooth, which somehow added to his appeal.

The sight of that familiar grin automatically put an answering smile on Arabella’s face, too. She was used to that effect, but she did not expect the little flutter of happiness that knocked her heart out of rhythm for a few beats. It had been far too long since she’d seen her old friend.

“I hadn’t realized you were visiting Caro, too. What a pleasant surprise!” George’s face was a little paler than she remembered, and the distinctive splash of freckles across his nose and cheeks had faded. Apart from that, he looked much as he always did.

“Uncle George!” Charlie promptly abandoned Arabella to rush towards his uncle. George, wise to the ways of four-year-olds, caught Charlie and scooped him up before the child could barrel into him. Then he promptly turned the boy upside down and held him by his legs. This elicited both a fit of giggles and a shower of pebbles falling from Charlie’s pockets.

Arabella cringed, thinking of the tidying the housemaid would have to do. That, she supposed, was why some parents preferred to confine their offspring to the nursery or schoolroom. Pebbles and sticks might belong in small boys’ pockets, but not in formal sitting rooms.

“How’s my favorite nephew?” George addressed the child as if there was nothing unusual about him hanging upside down.

“I’m your only nephew!” Charlie gleefully reminded him. “Swing me around, Uncle George!”

Arabella cringed and covered her mouth with her hand, horrified by the suggestion. The morning room at Newton Park was much smaller than the drawing room, and any attempt to swing a child around by his ankles was likely to end in breakage, injury, or both.

“Sorry, Charlie. I don’t think your mother would like that.” George sounded regretful, but when he caught Arabella’s eye, he winked. Then, to her great relief, he turned his nephew upright and set him back on his feet, thereby averting a potential disaster.

“Pick me up again! Again, please!” Charlie lifted his arms up hopefully, but his uncle shook his head.

“I’ve been traveling for hours,” he explained, “and I could really do with a cup of tea.”

Arabella brightened. She could help with that! “I shall ring for it, since Caroline is resting.”

“Resting? At this hour?” He glanced at the mantel clock and arched one eyebrow. It would be time to dress for dinner soon, since the Grays did not keep fashionable hours.

Arabella tightened her lips and tried to signal a warning with her eyes. Unfortunately, she did not have her mother’s talent for conveying silent messages. Either George did not recognize her warning or he chose to ignore it.

“Don’t tell me she’s in the family way again,” George began, “not after what happened last time—”

Arabella’s meaningful glance turned into a fierce glare. She glanced pointedly down at Charlie, then caught his uncle’s eye and shook her head. After the horrific miscarriage Caroline had suffered with her second pregnancy, the family did not want to openly discuss her delicate condition. They would wait until she quickened to share the news.

Caroline had told Arabella the news the moment she arrived, both because they were good friends and because her morning sickness and fatigue would have been difficult to conceal from a houseguest. But no one else outside of the household knew. Caroline and Leland had not even told Charlie yet, as they did not want to get his hopes up.

“I see.” George’s smile faded as he collapsed onto the sofa and stretched his legs out in front of him. “If you ask me, Leland ought to be happy with the child he has instead of risking my sister’s life—”

No one asked you! Arabella did not say the words out loud, but George must have correctly interpreted her expression, as he let his voice trail off rather than finish the sentence.

“It is a rather personal decision, after all.” Arabella struggled to keep her voice steady and calm instead of stammering. It felt awkward to have a conversation about childbearing with a young gentleman, even one she had known all her life. There was only one way Caroline could have fallen pregnant, and it involved a subject not fit for discussion in mixed company.

But George did not take the hint. “I suppose so, but Leland has a perfectly good heir already—”

As if he realized that he was under discussion, Charlie bounded across the room, climbed onto the sofa, and pounced on his uncle. “Uncle George, did you bring me a present? Last time you forgot!”

This time, when Arabella put a hand over her mouth, she did so to hide a smile. “It’s not good manners to beg for a present the moment you see a relative,” she reminded Charlie. He had said something very similar to her when she arrived last week, hadn’t he? Fortunately, she had come bearing a children’s paint box as a present to her godson.

“Isn’t my presence gift enough?” George suggested. “I’ll wager you didn’t expect to see me today. Now, did you?” He arched his eyebrows theatrically.

“Nooo,” Charlie admitted. “But I still want a present.” His lower lip hung down in a pout. “But I’m a big boy and I won’t cry even if you didn’t bring me anything.”

“Hmm, a big boy, are you? I suppose big boys are old enough to buy their own present, if they have the money. If only I had a shilling to give you!” George dug about in his coat pocket. “Alas, my pockets are to let!”

“That’s all right, Uncle George,” Charlie began to say, but his uncle interrupted him.

“Wait! What’s this?” With a flourish, he pulled a shiny silver coin out of his pocket. “For my favorite and as-yet-only nephew.”

Charlie shrieked with delight and grabbed the coin. “Hurray! I’m so glad you came to visit, Uncle George!”

George grinned and ruffled his nephew’s hair. “So am I,” he agreed. “Now, why don’t you go put that in a safe place?” They both watched Charlie scamper off, probably bound for the nursery. Then George turned back towards Arabella and sighed. “Being an uncle is exhausting.”

“You have made Charlie very happy.” Arabella sank down into an armchair. George was right: playing with small children was quite tiring. She had not realized until she sat down just how weary she had grown after an afternoon of playing hide-and-seek.

She wished she could lounge comfortably, leaning against the back of the chair, as George did. But that would be unladylike. According to her old governess, a lady always sat up straight. Arabella had left the school room years ago, but she still heard Miss Trafford’s voice in the back of her head, correcting her posture any time she slumped.

“Well, at least some good will have come from my visit.” Unwonted bitterness laced George’s usually cheerful voice.

Arabella studied him for a moment. In addition to looking paler than usual, he had shadows under his eyes, ink stains on his fingers, and scruffs on his boots. “Is something wrong?”

“Not really.” He shifted position and rolled his neck from side to side. “Too many hours in a crowded stagecoach today, that’s all.”

“Did you leave London this morning?” she guessed.

He shook his head. “I didn’t come from London. I was in Bath, visiting my uncle. A matter of family business.” The frown on his face made her wonder what sort of business had taken him all the way to Bath. “I just stopped here as it was on the way home, and... I thought I could use Caro’s advice.”

Parker entered the room, preventing George from saying more. “Very sorry about the delay, Miss Canning, Mr. Kirkland. Is there something I can do for you?”

“We should like tea, if you please, Parker.” Arabella spoke so softly that Parker had to put a hand to his ear to catch her words. She flushed, embarrassed by this betrayal of her shyness. She had been at Newton Park for a week, but she still hesitated to give orders to the servants. They were not, after all, her servants. She was only a guest here.

Arabella wondered if she had been remiss in not waking Caroline from her nap the moment George arrived. Was it even proper for an unmarried lady to be alone for so long with a young man? To be sure, he was related to her hostess, so perhaps they were not violating any rules by meeting together. She hoped so. Even country society could be very unforgiving of young ladies who broke the rules of propriety.

Now that she felt all the awkwardness of sitting alone with a young man, Arabella could think of nothing to say to break the silence. When Charlie had been here, he made a natural focal point for their attention. He was George’s nephew and Arabella’s godson, and they both loved him. With him gone, Arabella was left to sit in increasingly painful silence, wondering why it was taking so long for the butler to bring their tea.

“Is something wrong, Belle?” George spoke quietly, but in the hushed room, his soft baritone might as well have been a gunshot.

Arabella blinked. “What do you mean?”

“I know you are a quiet girl,” he explained, “but you were not used to be so shy with me .”

She dropped her gaze, feeling embarrassed. Implicit in his gentle voice, she heard all the old complaints. She spoke too softly. She said too little. She should be more gregarious. She should smile more. She should not hide in corners “like a frightened mouse”—to use her father’s phrasing.

Arabella clasped her hands together anxiously. “I am sorry.” George was right, of course. There had been a time when she could have talked to him as easily as with her own brother. But though they had grown up as neighbors, she rarely saw George now. It would have been an exaggeration to say that he had become a stranger to her, but the easy camaraderie of childhood had faded over the years.

“You owe me no apologies,” he said at once. “I only wondered if something had upset you. Had you rather I left you alone?”

“Oh no!” She could not eject him from his own sister’s morning room. She had no authority to do so, even if she’d wanted to. And she did not want to. She merely wished she could think of something to say to him. Something polite and unexceptionable. Something more meaningful than a comment about the weather.

But all she could think to say was, “I hope you had fair weather for your travels.”

“So-so.” He pulled a face. “We had a touch of rain, but not enough to make the roads impassable. At least we’ve not seen as much rain as we had last summer!”

“Yes, it is nice to see the sun now and again! I am sure the farmers are happy, too.” Last year’s unseasonably cool weather had ruined crops in some parts of England, leaving people hungry. Everyone was glad that 1817 seemed to be a warmer, dryer year, but Arabella could think of nothing new to say about it.

George cast his eyes around the room, looking as if he had no clue what to talk about either. Then his face brightened. “I say, do you still collect those little china figurines?”

Now, there was a topic she could discuss! Her nervous fingers relaxed. “Not as often as I used to.” She wrinkled her nose and grinned at George, remembering the days when she spent her pocket money on any pretty bit of porcelain that crossed her path. Her younger brother, who typically spent his allowance on candy or adventure novels, did not understand her taste at all.

“Really?” George looked surprised. “You used to love those things!”

“My mother kept complaining that my room had been overtaken by porcelain shepherdesses, and I finally admitted she was right. I decided to focus only on the fairy tale figurines, since those are my favorite. I gave away some of the others. Now I only buy figurines in keeping with that theme.”

Parting with some of her collection had been hard, but Arabella could not deny that her curio cabinet looked much better now that it was no longer cluttered with too many figurines of different styles and themes. She loved porcelain and bone china. They were beautiful, and thinning out her collection allowed the beauty of each individual piece to shine more brightly.

Someday, maybe, if she had a home of her own, she could set up displays of china throughout the house, rather than confining her entire collection to a single cabinet. But who knew if that would ever happen? Arabella had already spent too much time watching as friends and cousins her own age married and set up their nurseries.

“Do you still have the ‘Little Bo Peep’ figurine, then? The one you bought in Hillchester?” George pulled his pocket watch out of his pocket and played with it idly.

The corners of her mouth lifted up in pleasure at that memory. “I’m surprised you remember that! That must have been a dozen years ago.” Little Bo Peep had been her very first porcelain figure. She stumbled across it in a curiosity shop, and being short of pocket money that day, had borrowed from both Caroline and George in order to buy it.

“How could I forget how anxious you were all the way home? You wouldn’t let anyone else hold your parcel, for fear they’d drop it.” He looked as if he had more to say, but he never got around to saying it, as his pocket watch slipped from his grip and landed on the floor. He scrambled to pick it up and return it to the safety of his pocket.

Before Arabella could say anything more about her porcelain collection, Parker returned with the tea tray. Having to make the tea and then serve it kept her too busy for conversation. Then there was a blessed pause in which she nibbled a slice of lemon seed cake while listening to George’s complaints about the fare at the inn he’d stopped at on the journey down to Bath.

Before they finished with the tea, Caroline came down from her chambers, her face wreathed in smiles. “George! You ARE here! I thought Charlie might have been bamming me when he said you had come for a visit.”

“No jest!” George rose to his feet and embraced his younger sister. The two siblings were nearly of a height, though Caroline took her darker coloring from their mother. “I am here, alive and well, albeit rather the worse for travel. But what’s this I hear about you being indisposed, Caro?”

That, Arabella decided, was her cue to exit so the siblings could discuss family matters. “If you will excuse me, I believe I shall go rest before dinner.” She rose to her feet and turned towards the door.

“You need not make yourself scarce on my account, Belle,” George assured her. “You are quite one of the family here.”

Arabella shook her head. “I am sure you would like to have a word with your sister alone. And I do need rest.” That much was true, if by “rest” she meant “a chance to be alone.” After such an eventful afternoon, she needed a moment to herself.

George’s arrival threw off the easy comfort she’d settled into. If there were rules for how to treat an old friend when you and he were both houseguests at his sister’s estate, she did not know those rules. That made every interaction fraught with the risk of a social faux pas.

George furrowed his brow thoughtfully. “I would like to have a chat with Caro. I had an odd visit with my Uncle William in Bath, but I needn’t bore you with the details, Belle.”

Arabella suppressed a sigh of relief at this clear dismissal. “I shall see you at dinner, then.”

She tried to gracefully glide across the floor and out the door with all the poise that proper ladies like her mother (or Caroline, for that matter) displayed. Instead, she stumbled over nothing and let the door shut behind her with a bang. A passing housemaid stared at her in surprise.

Arabella flushed with embarrassment. Three and twenty, and still stumbling about like a gawky schoolgirl , she chided herself. Not that it mattered, since there was no one here to impress. Her friends did not care whether she was graceful. Even so, it would be a relief to spend a quiet hour alone in her room with a pencil, her sketchbook, and no one around to observe her blunders.