Chapter 19

CHAPTER 19

With no expectation of anything to the contrary, Evangeline settled herself back into normal life at Amsbrook with content, hiding away her secret troubles and anxieties for her private moments.

Then the first gift arrived.

At first, Evangeline looked at the parcel with no more than idle curiosity. Had she ordered something and forgotten about it? It would not be the first time something like that had slipped her mind. With the children gathered around her so eagerly, she snipped the string and tore open the brown paper, revealing a slim volume.

" The Housekeeping Book of Susanna Whatman …what?" she said, frowning.

"What do you want a housekeeping book for, Mama?" Gregory asked. "We have Mrs. Griffiths."

"I have not ordered any books from Hollyford, or London." She flipped the book from front to back. "There must be some mistake. "

"May I see it?" Adele asked.

Evangeline handed it over and, as Adele flipped through the pages, wondered where the book should be sent back to. "Susanna Whatman's…" she muttered to herself. An error in the delivery, to be sure.

"Oh, look," Adele said, bending over to pick up a small paper that had fallen out of the book. "It is a note. For you, Mama, it has your name on it."

Evangeline, with her sons peering over her arms, took the paper, folded over with the name Lady Ramsbury scratched in ink. A dread spread through her. "Oh, no. Please, no," she breathed.

Not Mr. Lorne. Anyone but Mr. Lorne.

But all his embarrassing gifts at Fernsby Hall had leaned toward the romantic. Why send her a book on housekeeping? Did he suppose this was the next step in wooing her? She studied the handwriting. Perhaps it was not quite like Mr. Lorne's.

"Who is it from, Mama?" William asked.

Evangeline opened the note with a curling lip as if something might jump out at her. Only a few words were scribbled across the paper in a hand she could not identify.

Thy cheeks so red, plump like tomatoes,

Thou art more excellent than boiled potatoes.

"What?" she mouthed.

Her frown caught the children's attention. "What? What does it say, Mama?" Gregory asked, rising on tiptoe to peer at the note.

She closed it with hasty fingers. "Never mind, darling."

Who could it be but Mr. Lorne? She was not unused to receiving gifts from suitors or self-proclaimed beaus amongst the Tulips of Fashion and Pinks of the Ton, but she could not think of a single man who would send her such a domestic gift and still call himself an admirer.

A day later another parcel came that produced a fan made of delicate chicken skin. Evangeline grimaced as soon as she saw it, for every color associated with being ill had been dyed into it. "I may be daring in the world of fashion, but there are boundaries that even I will not cross," she declared.

The boys insisting they could find a use for it, she handed it over, hoping she would never lay eyes on it again. She opened the note that came with the fan. The words produced an offended gasp.

Of your bright hazel eyes, I've grown fonder than fond.

They remind me of the murkiest pond.

The next day brought to Amsbrook a piece of music coupled with an enormous bouquet of flowers.

"The Three Butchers?" Evangeline exclaimed, studying the music. "I detest this song almost as much as I do these flowers. A more distasteful arrangement I have never seen."

"' ‘Twas your laugh incandescent that first made me fall; like a delicate calf for its mother would bawl.' " Simon said, reading accompanying note. "Is that a good thing, Mama? It does not sound like a good thing."

Mr. Lorne must have taken leave of his senses. She could not entirely think him responsible, but whom else could it be? Whomever it was, they were mad, plain and simple. Or perhaps they were trying to drive her mad.

In the midst of these preposterous gifts, Adele would give Evangeline no rest until she was given leave to host a tea party of her very own. So, with her mother's help, invitations were sent round to little Miss Kendrick and Miss Jones to tea only a few days after Evangeline's return to Amsbrook.

Adele was in raptures over the event and would have spent hours pestering the cook and Mrs. Griffiths with details and preparations if Evangeline had not intervened and suggested she concentrate on which dress to wear.

"And my hair," Adele said, eyes bright. "Mama, I want my hair to have jewels in it like yours does when you go to your balls. May I?"

Evangeline laughed but shook her head. "Tea is not the time for jewels, though you may have a new ribbon if you like."

Adele protested, but on this Evangeline was firm. Adele could not preside over tea in a tiara. Miss Kendrick and Miss Jones were only the daughters of a county gentleman of modest means and a lawyer, respectively. A new ribbon would suffice.

"You may wear my pearl necklace while I dress for dinner," Evangeline offered. This was agreeable to Adele, who went to boast of it to her brothers with little effect.

The tea party preparations, along with the other household duties, readying for her older daughters' arrival, playing with her children, kept Evangeline's thoughts so occupied for the first few days that not even the odd parcels could hold her attention for long. However, after the sun set and the children sent to bed, thoughts of Basil swirled in her head, keeping her awake long into the night.

He had become something more than he had been. He was no longer a friend, but neither was he a lover, exactly. She found herself missing him. Wishing he were nearby to make her laugh. Despite her efforts to stay occupied, she found herself smiling at the memory of a funny anecdote he had told, or a look he would pull at her from across the table when someone said something that reminded them of a joke that was only between themselves.

But it would be months before she saw him again, when they returned to London for the Season. While she longed for his company, she thought this a good test for herself. If her feelings for him lasted through the rest of the year and into the following spring, when she would see him again, she would know her affections were of a serious nature. If not, then it was just as well, perhaps better. For he could not love her children, that much had been made plain when Adele had come into his orbit, and Evangeline could not, would not love a man who could not be near her children. If that proved to be the case, she would overcome any heartache or disappointment that followed. She loved her life at present. Had been content with it for years now. Nothing had to change.

The day of the tea party arrived. As Evangeline sipped her chocolate in bed that morning, she was informed that Adele had been up before the sun and that Haney had had a time keeping her in the nursery instead of letting her bounce all over the house.

"Hurry with my dress," Evangeline told Dobbs. "I shall take her for a long walk. That will calm her nerves."

The only thing the outing gave Adele was more room to worry and fret that she would be late in receiving her guests if they did not return to the house after ten minutes, and indeed, Evangeline's usually long-suffering patience was near its end.

"We shall stay out until you have found your manners again, my dear," Evangeline said. She knelt down and looked at Adele with stern eyes. "A hostess must be patient and conduct herself with grace and good breeding before her guests come, as well as when they are here. Otherwise, she may not have another chance to host a tea party until she is eight years old."

Adele's eyes grew wide. "Eight years old? But I am only six. "

Evangeline bent a meaningful look toward her.

Adele nodded her head. "I wish to be a good hostess. I wish to make everyone who comes to our house happy and make them tea. But I think I will burst, I cannot wait until they come!"

"Adele, mind your words. A lady does not say ‘burst.'"

But Adele suddenly pointed to something behind Evangeline. "Who is that? Is that Emma's papa? What if he says she cannot come?"

Evangeline turned. A horse and rider were on the main road to Hollyford a few hundred yards below them. She squinted her eyes. "No. I do not know who he is. He is too far away. But Mr. Jones does not ride, my dear. He only has his gig. Remember when he took you and Emma for a ride in it?"

"Would he like to come to my tea party?" Adele asked.

"Mr. Jones?"

"No, him," she said, pointing to the stranger. "He might be hungry."

Evangeline laughed. "Whoever he is, he has other business to see to, I am sure. What a generous hostess you are, ma petite . But you cannot invite just anyone to tea. You must know who they are first."

Adele nodded, but this piece of wisdom flew out of her head as they turned for home. She asked several times if the people they saw and passed (a carriage, a man with a donkey cart, and an old washer woman) should not like to be invited to her party as well. The outing did not do as much good in calming her daughter as Evangeline had hoped, but at least some time had passed.

At last, the carriage was sent to pick up the little guests and their mothers. The boys were banished to the garden with plenty of biscuits and sweetmeats to keep them occupied before Simon took his younger brothers to the stream to fish.

It was clear the girls delighted over having their own party with no adults telling them what to do. Adele reigned over the event like a little queen, deepening her voice with importance while the other girls followed suit. After a weak tea was drunk and several tarts and biscuits eaten, Adele declared that each of them should sing a song to entertain themselves before the carriage was brought round to take her guests home.

Once the little hostess saw them off, Evangeline and Adele returned to the drawing room, where Adele reminisced over her event until she fell asleep on Evangeline's lap as they sat on the sofa. Content to stay, Evangeline leaned her head back and closed her eyes too. She would ring for Haney to take Adele away in a few minutes…

The loud clicking of the door latch jolted her awake. She blinked the sleep out of her eyes as Stevens came into the room. A quick glance at the clock on the mantlepiece and Adele's deep, even breathing told her she had been here longer than she had planned.

"I beg your pardon, your ladyship. There is a Mr. Morley here who wishes to see you. I have put him in the small parlor."

All traces of sleep vanished. Mr. Morley? Basil? Here?

"I will say you are not receiving anyone at present, if you wish."

"No—yes—ah?—"

Adele stirred and showed signs of waking. Evangeline could not think. What was Basil doing here? What did he want? She could find out the answer to that in a trice, but she could not receive him like this.

"Yes, my lady?" Stevens said, awaiting orders .

"I will—I will see him. Put him in the small parlor?—"

"I have already done so, your ladyship."

"Hallo, E."

Evangeline started at Basil's voice. She looked to the door, and there he was, striding into the room as if he had done so for years.