Chapter Fifteen
Mr. Fielding took his place next to Cynthia, who kept her eyes firmly on her prayerbook.
Then at some unseen signal, the congregation rose to its feet as the vicar processed in, preceded by an acolyte holding aloft a bible.
Cynthia finally lifted her head and stood up, along with Mr. Fielding, who whispered, “Good morning, Miss Rowley.”
She turned and he smiled at her, adding, “May I say how well you are looking? The blue ribbon on your bonnet is very becoming.”
Cynthia blushed and turned away. Over the heads of the people standing in front of her, Harriet saw the gentleman smile and say a word to her friend, but she didn’t see the blush.
When Cynthia turned away, she simply concluded that the poor thing didn’t appreciate a handsome man smiling at her.
She spent the rest of the service plotting about how she would get to know him better.
When the Go in Peace to Love and Serve the Lord was finally uttered, she made her way quickly to Cynthia’s pew and boldly held out her hand to Mr. Fielding.
“You must be the mysterious gentleman one has heard so much about,” she said.
“Cynthia and I are old friends. Well, not old in the sense of age, of course, at least, not for me. I’m sure you are very comfortable lodging with her.
She is an admirable housekeeper. I’m afraid I’m hopeless at that sort of thing myself.
” She fluttered her eyelashes up at him.
“My poor dead husband used to say I was made to be an ornament, not to work.”
“This is Harriet Witherill, Mr. Fielding,” said Cynthia, performing belated introductions. “She has been poorly, that’s why you haven’t seen her before.”
“Oh, tush, Cynthia!” said Harriet. “You make me out to be an invalid. It was a mild indisposition, nothing more. I’m fit as a fiddle!”
“I’m glad to hear it, Mrs. Witherill,” said Andrew Fielding. “Having been quite unwell myself, I know how unpleasant it is. I can only hope you had as good a nurse as I did.”
“Well, as to that…,” Harriet sought for words that would underline her fragility but make her seem brave. “As to that, I don’t like to quack myself, you know. I find if I go to bed with a warm drink and a hot brick at my feet, I am right as rain in no time.”
Since this was the exact opposite of her friend’s approach to any indisposition, no matter how minor, Cynthia looked down to hide a smile. When she raised her head, Mr. Fielding caught her eye and gave a slight wink. She knew they understood each other perfectly.
Harriet engineered the exit from her pew so that Mr. Fielding walked next to her as they left the church.
Yes, he’s perfect, she said to herself, casting sideways glances at his tall, slim figure.
In her mind’s eye she saw herself walking with her hand on his arm into all sorts of smart venues.
As a couple, she was persuaded, they would be invited everywhere.
When she realized that he had walked to church, she saw her chance.
“You must allow me to drive you home,” she said. “You are but recently recovered from a serious illness. My gig is over there.” She pointed to a smart new vehicle with shiny yellow wheels.
“Thank you, Mrs. Witherill,” said Mr. Fielding, “but I enjoy the walk. The weather is so fine and I need the exercise.”
He lifted his cap and walked away to where Will was waiting for him. Cynthia had already left with Ruby, who was anxious about the pie she had made for their dinner getting over baked.
“Yer want t’ watch that one,” said Will, as they walked away. “She’s been on the look-out fer a man ever since ’er ’usband died. Gobble you up, she will!”
Andrew Fielding chuckled at that. “Like you,” he said to his companion, “I prefer a plate of peas.”
And as Harriet drove past them, she heard them laughing.
Not one to let grass grow under her feet, and considering the threat to her complexion well worth it, she put on her best bonnet and drove her gig over to Cynthia’s that very afternoon.
It was fine and warm, so it wasn’t unusual to see the front door standing open, but when she peeped in and saw no one in the parlor, she was surprised.
She knew Cynthia had been brought up not to do any mending or other housework on Sunday, but expected to see her bent over some embroidery, which, said her friend, could not be considered work, because she enjoyed doing it.
Where could she and the handsome young man be?
Puzzled, she walked around the house and then heard voices. She found her friend reading aloud to her lodger in the shade of the old cherry tree. Mr. Fielding was sketching on a large white pad.
“Oh, there you are, Cynthia!” she said. “I brought you some of that chutney my Mary makes. I know how much you like it. When I found the front door wide open and you gone, I thought perhaps the gypsies had carried you off, though I believe they usually go for younger women.” She trilled a laugh, handing Cynthia a dark-looking jar from her bag.
“Hello, Harriet,” replied Cynthia, “How kind of you.” In fact, she had no memory of ever eating chutney at Harriet’s. “No, I felt the warm air would do Mr. Fielding good after the church. It’s so damp in there.”
“Do you think so?” said Harriet. “Of course, when one gets older, one does feel the cold more. I don’t find it damp.”
Now, this was a bold-faced lie. Harriet frequently complained about the atmosphere in the church. In fact, one attendance at Sunday services usually led to two weeks in bed. But Cynthia merely nodded.
“Mr. Fielding is trying to catch a good likeness of Teacup,” she said. “But it’s difficult, as she never keeps still.”
“Except when she’s lying on my chest,” laughed Mr. Fielding, but I can’t sketch in that position.”
“And I’m trying to bore them both to sleep by reading to them,” said Cynthia, “I’m convinced Mr. Fielding still needs to rest. But that isn’t working either. In fact, why don’t I make us some tea.”
Harriet was younger and prettier than herself, and, like everyone else, Cynthia knew she was on the lookout for a new husband.
As much as her heart contracted at the idea of losing Mr. Fielding to her friend, she told herself that if they married, at least he would stay in the neighborhood and she would still see him.
So with a smile that hid the pang in her heart, she left them together and went to make the tea.