Chapter 23

Chapter Twenty-Three

D aniel waited with Mary in front of the house for the stable hand to deliver the horses that would take them to see his father’s tenants. A slight breeze threaded through Mary’s hair, ringlets kissing her cheeks. He envied those curls, though she stood rigid beside him, the conversation he overheard reverberating between them. He shoved his hands into his pockets, his mind a jumble of Mary’s flattering words. He tried to still his fluttering heart. Fluttering heart ? Where did the phrase come from? A Woman Who Loves . He smiled at his foolish adoption of the novel. Yet it was true. When she told of his kindness, his heart stilled and then swelled with each thud against his rib cage. He never deliberated over a compliment before, but he cherished each of her words, memorizing exact phrases. He hoped she was sincere.

While traveling together, entertaining her required little effort. He’d wanted to distract her from their dire quest. Learning how much it meant to her made him want to guess her every wish and present it to her before she knew her own desires. Louisa would appear within a few days, and he had very few ideas on how to convince Mary they were far better suited than he and Louisa. He made a point to spend more time with her—taking her with him when he went out, accompanying her on walks, and keeping her room filled with roses—but was not foolish enough to believe his presence was enough. Her independence, which he admired, demanded little of him. Until he overheard her talking to his mother, he believed her wholly indifferent. Or worse, that she thought of him as her little brother.

Was it possible she cared for him? Beside him, she tilted her face to the sky until the sun breached the shadow of her riding hat. Since receiving news of Louisa’s safety, Mary had become more tranquil but also retreated. The day before, he saw her only at mealtimes. When passing by her door, his tread slowed, and the temptation to find out what she did in her room all day overwhelmed. Of course, he resisted.

“I feel terrible about your landau. Were it not for my niece, you’d be driving it today.”

“Horses are faster. I rarely used the carriage. Tobias Savage is the only person I hold responsible for its demise.”

They slipped into a thick silence.

“Again, thank you for the flowers,” she said.

“Yes. Well, thank you for being so obliging.” He bit his cheek. What an idiotic thing to say. He was no good with words. For being so obliging , as if pretending to be his fiancée was the same as borrowing a book.

“Tell me about your tenants.” Mary smiled at him, sending blossoming pleasure through him. He felt his cheeks lift in answering grin, unable to respond in any other way. From their very first meeting, she had drawn such grins from him. Bath had disinterested him until she arrived.

“Truth be told, I know very little. Since I’ve been away, the steward manages everything. I met with him several weeks ago but have had little opportunity to see with my own eyes how things are going. You are familiar with farming and tenants, running an estate, I understand,” Daniel said, finally able to ask a coherent question. “Who manages your land in Ireland?”

“The steward runs everything.” She gave him a half-smile and looked away. “He does well.”

“But you resurrected the property.”

“It was in my best interest, my livelihood. That is not to diminish the pleasure I felt in fulfilling Lord Allen’s dream.”

Of course, she would mention that angelic man. His hopes of obtaining her regard tumbled. They stared with steadfast intensity into the landscape. It was all Daniel could do not to look at her. Unable or unwilling to share how he admired her, he could think of nothing to say.

“Are you sorry to have left the bank? Did you enjoy your work there?” she asked, squinting up at the sky.

“I was good at it and was fortunate to have a friend who trusted me to do the job. My work and investments in the bank made it possible for my family to remain in the castle.”

“But you did not like it.”

“I feel most at home at Almery.” He turned and gestured to the surrounding property. “Though we have more than enough land to farm, it has not been properly run. As I am certain you’ve noticed, the castle is in disrepair. I want it to continue passing through generations, but it requires constant renovation. My parents don’t care about the state of the house. ‘What is a leaky roof when love abounds?’ my mother would say.”

Mary laughed. “I can hear her voice when you say that. A romantic notion.”

Daniel’s heart quickened. Perhaps she understood. “Exactly. One cannot live off such sentiment. Love is good, but if it causes a person to neglect important things, it can be detrimental.”

Mary’s smile faded and a crease appeared between her brows. “Must one choose? Their actions are more due to their characters than to love.”

The horses arrived. Daniel took Mary’s hand and helped her onto a mounting box, considering her words. Perhaps she was right. He admired Mary, but his feelings would not prevent him from doing what was best for his castle.

During the short ride to the tenant cottages, Mary exclaimed over the beauty of the countryside. “There are so many trees. And so tall. In Cornwall, we have bushes, shrubs, and heather, but not so many lofty trees.”

Daniel pointed out various landmarks, the road to the village, and his favorite places to play when a child. Soon they arrived at a cluster of cottages. They appeared well-kept with everything in order. A young couple, married only a year earlier and expecting a child, told them, “I do worry about space with the young one coming so soon.” Daniel made a note to construct an additional room onto their cottage.

They stopped by the shepherd’s home and visited the bailey. There were few complaints and no problem that could not be easily mended. Before leaving for home, Daniel wanted to see Old Mother Spencer, the woman who’d given him treats when he was a boy. He’d not seen her since leaving home.

He knocked on the cottage door. There was shuffling inside before the top half of the Dutch door opened. Mrs. Spencer was as hunched and white as she had been years earlier.

“Daniel? Have you come home?” Her gnarled hand reached out and patted his cheek.

“I have, Mother Spencer.”

“Come in, then. And who is this? ’Tis about time you brought your lady love.” Daniel turned to Mary, her cheeks tinted pink, but she smiled and took the older woman’s hand in greeting. Mother Spencer pulled her in to kiss and pat her cheek.

“Sit down, sit down.” She waved them toward the table and began bustling around the hearth. Daniel pulled out half a fruit cake from his satchel while the old woman made tea.

“This boy was full of light and mischief in equal measure. No one could be angry at him when he scattered the sheep or trampled fresh-planted barley because his countenance was always as bright as the sun.” She went on to embarrass him with stories of his youth.

Mary leaned forward, absorbing each word. Was this out of politeness to Mrs. Spencer or honest interest? Mary broke into laughter, folding in half, then slapping Daniels thigh. Entirely absorbed in watching his companion, he had not caught the joke. Her nose crinkled, and she placed her hand over her stomach and leaned back, unafraid of hearty laughter. Tittering was not for Mary. At least, not in this moment. He could watch this all day.

On their journey back to Almery, Mary said, “There is an easy solution to your problem, Daniel.”

His breath caught. The only problem he could think of was his bachelor state. “Which problem is that?”

“Mother Spencer’s cottage is too large for her. She struggles to keep up with it. So, move her into the smaller house and give the larger one to the young couple.”

“Why should you think Mother Spencer cannot care for her space?”

“She keeps only one window clean, and it was sparkling. The upper shelves were dusty and empty. Her pots and pans, though tidy, were piled in one corner rather than hung on nails. The hearth is too large for her needs.”

“So long as she is amenable to the change.”

“Yes, you would not want to disrupt her if she does not wish it, but tenants often do not ask for what is best for them. We must notice for them.”

“You are very wise.”

“It comes with age.”

He grinned at her, and when she smiled in return, his back straightened, and he imagined leaning over and thanking her with a kiss. Perhaps a kiss would persuade her to become his wife.

T hat evening, Daniel and Mary sat with his mother. Conversation stalled and started with Daniel regretting that he subjected Mary to all the impertinence of his mother, who persisted in questioning Mary on everything from her favorite color to the intimate details of her first marriage. Daniel tried to persuade her to retire for the evening, but she declined.

“Mary, what made you decide to remarry? I could never do such a thing myself, having been so happy with Robert.” Mary stiffened, Daniel cringed, but his mother went on as if they were speaking of the weather. “It appears you are financially secure. Is it loneliness?”

After blinking several times, Mary coughed a little. “Like you, my marriage brought me such felicity that I never imagined wishing for a second marriage. I live close to my sister and my brother and spend time with my nieces and nephews.” It seemed Mary would not answer the question.

Daniel’s mother leaned toward Mary. “Why marry? Please, I am curious.”

Mary took a deep breath. “I am astonished at your question. As the mother of such a man, you are well-acquainted with his charms.”

“Daniel convinced you, then?” His mother sat back, her eyelids lowered in an air of indifference, but Daniel knew better. She was suspicious, dissatisfied with the praises she pried out of them earlier. Perhaps they needed to work harder to prove they were indeed in love. His mother made it no secret that she believed Mary was too old. Perhaps she searched for a reason to oppose the match.

“How could any woman resist?” Mary smiled and patted Daniel on the arm as she might an obedient dog. His mother took in the gesture. It would not do. They must show her. But how?

“Did you know our Daniel used to play the pianoforte so charmingly? And sing, too.”

Daniel groaned.

“Yes,” Mary said. “I have heard him sing and play.”

His mother’s eyes flew open. “That is something.” For the first time that evening, her smile was sincere. Turning to her son, she said, “You have not played since…well, for a very long time.”

Daniel knew exactly the moment he’d stopped playing, and so did his mother. It was right after he discovered the amount of money his father had lost in his investments. From that time on, he’d dedicated himself to stabilizing the family fortunes.

“Play for us now, dear,” his mother urged.

Daniel obliged, if only to remove himself from the conversation.

“I shall turn the pages for you.” Mary stood and walked with Daniel to the pianoforte.

“What is happening?” Mary whispered. “She seems to doubt us.”

“We must try harder.” He took her arm in his and held her as close to him as he dared for the remaining steps to the instrument.

“Pull your chair closer.” He told her, hoping his eyes spoke an apology. She did. And not only that. Her shoulder leaned against his arm, and her rose perfume captivated him. He chose a familiar song. Though he had not played for years, other than at the inn, his fingers remembered where to go.

“I think it is working,” Mary said. “She is smiling.”

“Do you play?”

“Only the basic requirement for a lady. When my mother tried to teach me, I hid. I was rather wild as a girl, without patience for practice. With two older siblings, it took a great deal of effort to keep up with them. I had little time for music or drawing.”

Daniel warmed at the picture she conjured of a little girl, chestnut curls flying into the woods as her mother called for her to practice her lessons.

“I daresay your time was better spent.”

“I have no regrets.” She turned another page of music, her nearness intoxicating. He played with increased passion, praying his song would distract him from the thoughts that urged him closer to her, that yearned to hold her rather than merely sit next to her.

“My dear boy, I have never heard you play with such feeling,” Mrs. Fletcher said.

L ater that night, he entered his father’s room. From a chair near the bed, he watched the rise and fall of his father’s breathing. Daniel could not sleep. Thoughts of Mary invaded his mind and kept him from rest. With each passing moment, his dread for her departure increased.

“Daniel.” He had not seen his mother resting in her favorite chaise lounge. “You are thinking of Mary and cannot sleep?”

How are mothers so adept? “Something like that.”

“Do you know she is the one who settled the squabbling below stairs? She is capable and independent, but far too old.”

He far preferred a capable woman to an unequal miss.

“I can already see that without her you would be lost, but there is something uncertain in your behavior—and hers. So,” her voice cracked, “you’d better tell her you love her. You never know when she might be taken from you.” She dabbed at her eyes.

Her apt assessment made him uneasy and led him to think his admiration for Mary might develop into the same sort of blind love his parents had. “Father is improving. The two of you will have many years yet to worship each other.” He’d meant to make his tone light but could taste the bitterness that slipped into the words.

“You think it is folly to love as your father and I do. We are not without our faults, but loving deeply is not one of them. The delight I have in your father is the deepest treasure of my life. I won’t deny we’ve made mistakes.” She adjusted a blanket that wrapped around her. “Perhaps you are right to hold a grudge against us for what you saw as neglect, but we did everything out of affection for our children and for one another. The best gift we gave you and your sister was the love we have for each other.” Her voice became lower, more serious. “That same joy can be yours. She is down the hall. While I’ve mentioned only her gift for practicality, she is a romantic pining for adoration. She sighs when you read aloud. Her hand rests on her heart when you play the piano, and she even wipes a tear when you sing. Don’t allow your silly notions about love get in the way of the one thing that matters. Much as it pains me to have no grandchildren from you.”

She was right. If he wanted Mary to stay, he must be open about his feelings. Flowers in her room were not a confession. He wished his mother good night and stepped into the hall. With a pounding heart, he slipped out of his boots and walked to Mary’s door, though he had no clear idea of his intention.

Soft light came from under her door. He leaned against the wall trying to imagine what she was doing. What feelings had his mother’s words evoked? Dare he become a fool who loved so deeply it suffocated him? A person who sacrificed his own best interest for another’s happiness?

A soft scratching sounded through the door. She was writing. He could see her in his mind’s eye, quill in hand, a thick braid coiled and shining over her shoulder, her lips pressed together in a kissable pucker, the way she did when she was thinking.

He closed his eyes, listened to the scraping of her pen, and thought of her face, soft in candlelight. If she asked him to leave home in search of Louisa, he would do it. If she pined after a particular bonnet she fancied in a Bath millinery, he would fetch it for her. If she spent a night in tears and sorrow, he did not want the person at her side to be anyone other than himself. If she wanted a telescope and the price was an endless winter of potatoes and dried pork, he would get her the telescope.

He loved her.

And it was nothing like what he’d felt for Miss Jensen, a love rooted in the idea that having his own family would offer the comfort and security he sometimes lacked with his parents. His feelings for Mary were not so selfish.

He craved that fool’s errand and wanted her to need something that only he could give. A tiny smile tickled the corners of Daniel’s mouth. His heart thudded out an anthem to his adored, a booming and joyous song that he never imagined himself capable of. He, of all men, had found his match. And what a treasure she was. She was not a burden or an obligation forced upon him by his parents. Dynamic and intelligent, beautiful, and clever, Mary elevated him.

He watched candlelight flicker across the hall, his hands and feet growing cold. A patter of feet sounded from inside her bedroom, followed by the rustling paper. The light from beneath the door was snuffed, leaving Daniel to wonder over his intentions. Though he wanted to open the door and express all he felt, to enter the room of a lady whilst she was abed was not to be thought of. At least one tried not to think of such things. Without a sound, he went to his own room, taking his boots and a heart and mind full of Mary.