Chapter Ten

CHAPTER TEN

P hee awoke in her bed, Mildred and her nest tucked alongside her. With her sleeping companion still in the land of dreams, Phee sighed. What had started as a harrowing night had turned to ease thanks to Lord Everly and his blanket.

Lord Everly.

Phee pushed up and looked around her room but found it to be empty except for her and the kitten. He must have returned to his room after she had fallen asleep. Except, she had been in the chair the last she remembered. Surely, he hadn’t… No. He could not have possibly moved her to her bed and tucked her in with the kitten, and yet, all signs pointed to yes.

There was no use in ruminating on the meaning behind his kindness for that way led madness, and quite possibly heartbreak. Leaving the bed, Phee performed her ablutions, then returned to check on her companion, who finally decided to join the land of the living. The beast noticed her and stood from her bed, stretching her paws in front of her before pulling her body forward to stretch the backend. Her excited meow as she walked toward Phee was a sudden change from the inconsolable creature of last night.

“You seem pleased with yourself,” Phee said, stroking the white arrow on her head. “I did not appreciate our midnight adventures, Mildred.”

Mildred meowed, brushing up against Phee’s hand, and she could not help but smile at the kitten’s antics. “I’ll forgive you, but only because it was your first night in a new home. Let’s be sure to make a better go of it this evening, yes?”

Readying herself for the day, Phee snatched up the stick with a feather on its end and dragged it across the floor, forcing Mildred to give chase down to the breakfast room. Lord Everly sat at the table, a paper before him, his tea frozen before his face as they entered the room.

“Good morning,” Phee said, setting the kitten down on her chair before heading to the sideboard to make herself a plate.

“You’ve never joined me for breakfast,” Lord Everly said, the words soft.

“Hmm?” Phee asked. “Oh, the smell of kippers tends to upset my stomach, but Mildred seems rather famished after her night of nonsense so I thought it better to bring her directly to the food.”

“You never joined me for breakfast because you don’t like the smell?”

“Yes. I thought it best to remain elsewhere so you could enjoy your breakfast and I could avoid a stomach upset.”

He shook his head, his rakishly brushed back hair falling over his forehead. “I’m happy to adjust the menu so it doesn’t cause you distress if that means having breakfast with you. I enjoy your company.”

“Oh,” Phee said, spoon of potatoes paused over the plate. “I didn’t—That is, I wasn’t sure—”

Looking to a footman, he said, “Please remove the kippers from the room and open a window to clear the smell.” Lord Everly rose and met her at the sideboard. Gently taking the plate and spoon from her hand, he finished the job she had started, his citrus scent masking the odorous kippers.

“I can do that,” she said, eyeing her plate in his hands.

“I know, but I like caring for you. And I like the idea of us eating breakfast together.” He walked along the side board, shooting her a devastating smile, his dimple winking at her. “We know the inconsistencies of blueberries, and the smell from kippers, but what other items should we add or remove from the menu? Bacon? Toast?”

“I quite enjoy those,” Phee said, looking at him, warmth filling her at having someone attend to her needs for their own pleasure rather than treating her as someone incapable of caring for herself. While he appeared his usual put together self, he seemed tired. “Did you sleep well last night?”

“I’m afraid not,” he said. “Our darling Mildred was rather testy regarding my choice of blanket so I attempted several different ones until I found the right combination.”

“I’m terribly sorry. I wish you had woken me so I could have relieved you of your guard duties.”

“No need. You were comfortable.” He chuckled. “Well, as comfortable as one can be in an arm chair. I’m certain there was a moment where it was unclear whether you or Mildred were the most perturbed by your sleeping conditions.”

“Is that why—”

“Why I moved you to your bed? Yes. It started to hurt my own neck watching you sleep like that.” He set her plate down on the table and pulled back the chair for her.

Phee took her seat and began to eat. When a steaming cup of tea was placed before her, she looked up to say her thanks, surprised to find Lord Everly the distributer of the beverage. “Thank you,” she said in a whisper.

His mouth quirked up at one corner in a smile. “Of course,” he said softly, stopping at the chair beside her to tickle Mildred’s chin. “And what would this mischief maker like for breakfast?”

“I’ve been feeding her scraps of chicken that Cook had left over from our supper the other night and a dish of water for drinking.” Lord Everly nodded to a footman who set off quickly to deliver Mildred her breakfast.

Phee sipped at her tea and nearly sighed. The brew was perfect, a touch of milk with a slight sweetness from the sugar. “You made my tea to near perfection.”

Lord Everly smiled. “I’m happy to hear it, however, I shall strive for perfection in the future, my lady.”

“That’s-That’s not what I meant.” His smile paused as his eyes assessed her. “This is the second time you’ve given me a cup of tea exactly how I like it. You’ve remembered how I take my tea.”

He waved away her comment. “That’s nothing.”

“It’s not,” she said, with a small shake of her head “It’s not nothing. Thank you.”

He frowned at her, but nodded just the same before returning to his chair.

Phee had become used to catching others’ notice, of course never for the right reason, but Harrison’s awareness was not like the others. There was a sense of care in the things he noticed, a type of awe as he took in the way she perceived the world around her. That he noticed her, not because of what society would deem a flaw but because of who she was, was a kindness she had only found with her family.

They ate silently, Mildred the only dining companion to not only devour her food, but have the indecency to clean herself afterward, and Phee chuckled as she watched the dear, happy to see that her night of discomfort had not ruined her experience at the home.

“Are you planning to continue your usual schedule?” Lord Everly asked her.

Phee nodded, but her gaze went to Mildred once more. “I’ll have to keep her inside while I tend the hives. I wouldn’t want her making mischief and upsetting the bees. Or getting lost,” she said, imagining the worst.

“She’ll do just fine for a few hours alone. I’m sure she’ll take a much-needed nap after last night.” Lord Everly smiled at her. “Don’t worry. She’ll be all right.”

“And what of you?”

“Back to the potter’s wheel, I’m afraid. Off to damage more clay in an attempt to create something.”

“Is Mr. Williams planning to return for another lesson?”

“Not today. I shall be on my own this time, forced to control the unwieldy beast and make it into something useful.”

Phee smiled. “What do you have in mind?”

Lord Everly’s brow furrowed. “A bowl, perhaps. That shouldn’t be too hard, right?”

“I have every faith you will accomplish your goal today,” she said, wiping her mouth before pushing back from the table. Leaning down over the chair beside her, she picked up Mildred, cradling the small kitten in her arms. “I wish you immense luck in your battle, my lord,” she said, giving a small bow.

“Thank you, madame. I shall return a conqueror of my latest enemy.”

With a giggle, Phee left the breakfast room, taking Mildred upstairs to her bedroom. After ensuring the dear used her box, and had plenty of water in case she was thirsty, Phee changed into her work dress, an ugly brown thing her mother had fondly called “the dirt collector”, laced up her ankle boots, and grabbed her bee veil, padded coat, and gloves. Bidding farewell to Mildred, who had curled up on the sofa in a sunbeam, Phee headed to the garden to examine the progress the bees had made, all the while, a smile pulled at her lips, no doubt a reminder of the joy she had found at breakfast.

The hive was active, bees coming and going from the frames, their buzzes like a lullaby as they zipped around the garden, tending to their homes and queen. Marigolds and cornflowers surrounded one side the hives, lush and teeming with flowers, while fennel and poppies grew along the other end, luring the bees in with their sweet scent and supple nectar. Planter pots full of tansies stood at each corner of the garden, completing the extensive array of options for the fuzzy pollinators. Later in the fall, dahlias and ivy would ensure the bees stayed well-fed for the winter, but there was still time before then. Phee hummed, sparks of joy dancing in her veins as she watched the hive carry on its daily work. Yes, the other hive was still empty, but it was wonderful just the same.

Being careful not to excite the bees, Phee wandered around the box, searching for signs of rat droppings or ants. In truth, it was less work caring for the bees as it was guarding them from thievery. Yet both tables showed little traces of invaders, and the bees showed no signs of alert, which boded very well for their rat problem. Perhaps the rats had found a new eatery in the neighborhood and Mildred could instead live her life inside the townhome. Phee shook her head, chuckling at the thought. Mildred was a barn cat, with the instincts of a killer. She would never be happy indoors, boredom consuming her as she did nothing but lay about all day. No, as much as Phee wanted to coddle the poor dear, nature would no doubt take its course.

A glance at her pocket watch showed nearly an hour had gone by, and while the garden was a peaceful place to be surrounded by bees and flowers, her brain niggled at her to check on Mildred. Inside, however, she found her bedroom empty, with Mildred nowhere in sight. Checking all the possible hiding places proved fruitless, each empty space filling her with a tinge more panic, and Phee bit her lip as her stomach knotted with anxiety, certain the kitten had been led to her death.

Hurrying from the room, Phee headed to the conservatory. Perhaps Lord Everly had seen her and if not, perhaps she could enlist him to search. Inside the conservatory, the scraping sound of ceramic on metal from the pottery wheel, accompanied by a sloppy wet sound, played as a map to Lord Everly, and as Phee rounded the corner, she pulled to a stop, her franticly racing heart skipping at the sight before her. Lord Everly sat at the potting wheel, a shallow bowl being carefully molded before him, and in the red chair Mr. Williams typically occupied, sat Mildred, her paw raised as she attempted to shape the bowl as well, her swats causing slight curves along the rim.

“Unbelievable,” Phee said, the words sharp.

Lord Everly looked up at her, the wheel slowly rolling to a stop as he pulled his hands back from the piece. “Lady Phoebe, are you all right?”

She scoffed. “No. No, I’m not all right. I thought she was lost. I thought she was dead, and she was here with you the whole time?” She marched toward him, hands on her hips. “Why is she down here?”

Lord Everly stood, rinsing his hands in the bucket of water beside the wheel. Wiping them on the apron he wore over his trousers and shirt, he stepped out from around the wheel. “The footman outside your room alerted me that she was meowing for fifteen minutes before he came to get me. It seems that merely a moment after you left your room, she started working herself into quite a ruckus, crying at the door and trying to get out.” He came to stand before her. “I thought it would be best if she came to sit with me while I worked. I’m sorry to have worried you and will make it a point to tell you my plans next time.”

Phee looked to where Mildred sat, her heart racing. “Is it even safe for her to be in here? There are so many things that she could get into or hurt herself on, she could have gotten out.”

Lord Everly touched her chin, turning her gaze to him and her heart kept up its errant pace. “I kept the door closed and my eye on her the entire time. She’s shown a bit of interest in the wheel but I made sure she stayed on the chair while it was spinning.”

Phee shook her head. “I thought I’d lost her. I thought she had escaped the house and gotten out into the yard. My mind raced with so many scenarios where she had perished.” She was shaking, fear and worry filling her veins as she squeezed her hands, her nails biting into her palms.

“Lady Phoebe,” Lord Everly said, but Phee could not control the onslaught her body wrought at the potential disaster. “Phoebe,” Lord Everly said once more, pulling her into his arms. His arms tightened around her as she shook, her breathing sharp against the front of his shirt as she rocked her forehead back and forth, trying to calm herself. Lord Everly whispered against her ear, soothing words as he held her, one hand stroking her hair while the other remained tight, a coil of strength that she clung to with every fiber. “It’s all right, Phoebe. Everything is all right. Mildred is safe,” he said. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I’m sorry I made you worry.”

She stood that way for some time, Harrison holding her close, his arms tight, a comforting embrace that surrounded her until the storm slowed to nothing but a calm sky.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

She nodded, her forehead sliding against the soft cotton of his shirt. “I’m sorry.”

He sighed, pulling her in closer as his head rested on hers. “You have nothing to apologize for. I should have told you I had her. I’m sorry, Phoebe.”

Phee scowled into his shirt, her name on his lips something she had never expected to hear, and hadn’t realized, until that moment, how much she wanted to hear it. They were accomplices. Two individuals who had entered into a mutually satisfying agreement, and yet…

And yet they talked and laughed just as friends did. They took interest in one another’s activities like friends, and they both cared for Mildred, no matter how poorly it was done. Stepping back, Phee looked at him, his hands messy from the clay that still sat on the wheel, awaiting its form, and yet, he stopped to help her. To comfort her in a way no mere friend ever had. No one outside of her family. “You called me Phoebe.” There was a touch of awe to her words.

His brow raised. “Did I?”

“Mm.” She took a step forward, her hand raising to brush at a smudge of clay at his jaw and she paused as she touched his warm skin, her gaze meeting his.

“Is it all right that I do?” He angled his head, a warm smile on his lips, his dimple playing peekaboo.

“Yes,” she said. “What would you like me to call you?”

He paused for a moment at her question before answering, “You can call me Harrison.”

“Do you think—” She took a breath. “Do you think we are truly friends?”

He chuckled. “I’m starting to think we are.”

“I am as well,” she said, a frown tugging at her brow.

“You seem perturbed by that notion.” He looked down at himself and brushed at the bits of clay that marred his apparel. “Am I that disappointing?”

She shook her head and smiled. “No. It’s only that I’ve never had a friend before.”

“Surely that cannot be—” he said, but stopped as Sterns appeared, a silver salver in his hands.

“I beg pardon, my lord,” he said before turning to Phee. “My lady, a letter from your mother has arrived.”

“Oh,” Phee said, taking the note and opening it. “It’s an invitation. It would appear my mother is planning to host her yearly ball in three months’ time and she has requested that we attend to show familial affection.” Phee’s stomach knotted at the thought of her mother’s yearly ball, the attention that would once again be placed on her. The crush of bodies and veiled conversations. She swallowed and looked at Harrison. “I should respond to this.”

“Your mouth is pinched,” he said, stepping closer. “Is everything all right?”

Phee looked to Sterns, then back to Harrison. “Everything is fine. Please excuse me.” Picking up a sleepy Mildred, Phee left the conservatory, kitten and letter clutched in hand. Mildred made a mew of protest at the tightness of her grip and Phee loosened it. “I’m sorry, pet.”

In her room, Phee set Mildred down on the floor after closing the door, ensuring she would not disappear again. Sitting at the small writing desk, she removed a sheet of paper and taking up her quill, opened her ink canister and dipped the metal nib in the pot. Yet, the words for her reply never came as she stared at the blank sheet, ink dripping, forming black dots of death, a sure sign of how she truly felt at her mother’s request.

It was time once again for her mother’s yearly ball, and not only was it a ball, but a familial one. One where she and her brother, along with their spouses, would be paraded and critiqued by society. One where, given her quick nuptials, the ton would pay sharp attention to her behavior and the behavior of her husband. One where she would have to mask every impulse in a setting where her senses would be overwhelmed.

Heart racing in her ears, Phee shook her head and set down the quill, her hand shaking at the mere notion of what was to come. The exact definition of hell, that was what. No amount of practice, no amount of deep breathing could contain what was always a rather immense stimulation that could be called her mother’s ball, and although the event was three months away, her every nerve jingled like it was to happen that very instant.

She sighed as her head fell into her hands, her heartbeat racing in her ears, a resounding drumming, a crescendo that did very little to help her anxiety for what was to come. This was why she only surrounded herself with bees.