Chapter 5
H enry had a mind to ask the Chumleys to excuse him so that he might walk beside Miss Fernside and tease her again.
He wanted to bring out that lovely blush he’d witnessed earlier across her high cheekbones.
But when he looked back at her over his shoulder through the Chumleys’ corridors, spotting her cheeks pinking instantly, he faced forward again with a satisfied smile.
He supposed a look was all it took, then.
It was just as well. Thanks to the Chumleys’ carriage arrangements, he would have all the time he needed to get to know the woman better.
He followed the Chumleys as they led the party through the entryway and out the front doors held open by a footman standing at attention.
Henry drew in a deep breath of the cool weather.
The air was smokier here compared to the West Indies—at least where he’d done most of his observations—but it was far crisper than Lord Blackstone’s office.
And while he wasn’t used to living again in the smoke and bustle of London, far preferring the countryside, he had to admit the city had a charm of its own.
The streets were already filled with carriages rumbling and rattling their ways across the cobblestones, and the pavement was constantly marked with passersby—couples meandering from their fine townhouses, mothers and daughters skittering toward newly opened shops, and friends whispering to one another of whatever the latest gossip was amidst the ton .
The energy here was contagious, but he could not deny how he longed for the peace he’d grown used to in nature—the peace he craved more than anything now. As such, his attention was soon arrested by the sight of the six large coaches lined up before and beyond the Chumleys’ home.
Each privately hired equipage was of the finest caliber with black leather tops and polished wooden bases, pulled by matching pairs of dashing, black horses.
The trunks and bags of each attendee were already secured behind each coach, and the help stood by in their finest livery, ready to accompany the party within the final three carriages all the way to Yorkshire.
The sight was grand, indeed, and more than a few spectators paused to glance curiously at the twelve individuals gathered on the pavement with smiles and excited chatter.
Henry, too, felt that initial hum of excitement that always appeared at the beginning of an excursion.
In truth, he hadn’t expected the feeling for this trip, so he was more than pleasantly surprised as his level of enthusiasm matched the others.
He was grateful he’d powered through his initial inhibitions and kept his commitment.
This already had the promise of being quite the memorable experience.
“Mr. Branok,” Mr. Chumley said, pulling Henry from his thoughts, “would you mind waiting a moment? I’d like a quick word if we can manage it.”
“Of course,” Henry immediately agreed, standing near the edge of the pavement and away from the carriages to allow others to pass him by.
Mr. Chumley nodded his gratitude, then redirected his attention to the rest of his party, maneuvering through the busy crowds as he moved from person to person to show them which carriage was theirs and which ones belonged to the servants.
Henry watched him for a moment before catching sight of Miss Fernside. She walked behind Mr. and Mrs. Haskett, heading in the direction of the third coach—theirs and Henry’s—before she paused and looked at the grand plane trees across the street.
Her aunt and uncle carried on, but Miss Fernside remained still, opening a leatherbound book and scribbling away at the paper with a small pencil.
Henry glanced up to see what had caught her eye, discovering a house sparrow chirping away within the trees, its brown and grey feathers barely visible through the thick green foliage.
Miss Fernside appeared very excited about the sighting, continuing with what he could only assume was a sketch as she remained entirely unaware of her aunt and uncle moving toward their carriage.
Henry could not stop his smile. The bird was nothing special—more common than anything. Yet, still, she found it necessary to make note of it. It was all rather endearing. Just as it was when she’d mistaken him for the bald gentleman in front of them.
He grinned at the thought of her words.
“I will save you and I both the time and embarrassment by informing you that I intend to never have a husband.”
And then, “I should hate to upset him more due to the incessant whispering of a gentleman who clearly does not take bird observing very seriously.”
Never had he known a woman to speak so plainly. It was refreshing. And the fact that she was an unmarried, female—and clearly enthusiastic—bird observer? She certainly was unique, not to mention stunning in her physical features, as well.
He couldn’t help but wonder more about her—why her aunt and uncle accompanied her instead of her parents, why she’d chosen to remain unmarried, and how much she truly knew about bird observation.
Perhaps he would do a bit of digging on their journey over the next three days. Although, with how readily she’d distributed the information he already did know, perhaps digging wouldn’t even be necessary.
“I do apologize for keeping you waiting, Mr. Branok,” Mr. Chumley said, coming up to stand directly in Henry’s line of sight.
“I was happy to wait,” Henry responded.
He shifted an inch to the right to better see Miss Fernside, who had wandered closer to the carriages, half-hidden behind the open door of the first coach.
Mr. Chumley had walked right by without noticing her.
And what of the Hasketts? Were they aware of their niece’s absence, or were they used to her doing such things?
Mr. Chumley spoke again. “I wanted you to wait so that I might ask your feelings on the carriage arrangements.”
“Oh, of course I am happy to travel in whatever carriage you allot me.”
Blast. Was the man attempting to alter the arrangements? Henry had been looking forward to being with Miss Fernside.
He glanced at the woman, her eyes shifting from the bird to the book, then back again. Could she hear their conversation? Or was she too transfixed with the house sparrow?
“Are you certain?” Mr. Chumley pressed. “I would not wish for you to feel as if you were an afterthought in the last carriage. I assure you, a great deal of care was given to the arrangements, but, to put it frankly, Miss Fernside’s presence has complicated matters to the highest degree.”
At the mention of her name, Miss Fernside snapped her hazel eyes to Mr. Chumley’s, peering at him coolly from around the carriage door. When she noticed Henry observing her in return, however, she blushed and swiftly restored her attention to her book.
He anticipated her departure, but she remained planted to her spot. Did she wish to remain there in case she needed to jump to her own defense? Or was she really that determined to finish her recording of the house sparrow?
“You see,” Mr. Chumley continued in a level tone, so clearly taken with his own concerns that he did not seem to notice Henry’s roving eyes, “I could not separate the Kay brothers, and Mr. Dunn and Mr. Gibbon have struck up a recent friendship, so they requested to sit with one another. My wife”—he broke off with a sigh—“she has need of riding with her dear friend Mrs. Shepherd, who must be with Mr. Shepherd. And with Miss Fernside needing to be with her chaperones, that left only a single spot more…”
He trailed off, clearly troubled with the whole affair as he wiped small beads of sweat from beneath the curls pressed against his brow.
“I tell you, the next excursion I conduct shall only include gentlemen. Women have no place on these sorts of things. They only complicate matters in the most infuriating manner—my wife more so than anyone.”
With another flick of his gaze, Henry found Miss Fernside’s frown growing, this time her lips parting in indignation as she glowered at Mr. Chumley. With another look at Henry, she stared again at her book.
Henry could only imagine the great deal of restraint she had to be practicing to not blast Mr. Chumley right then and there.
Honestly, Henry supposed he ought to say something himself in response to the man’s obvious frustrations, but with the look of ire across Miss Fernside’s features—her petite nose wrinkling in disgust and almond-shaped eyes narrowed—he quite forgot to respond at all.
“I swear, Mr. Branok,” Mr. Chumley continued, straightening his waistcoat, “you are the wisest man I know simply due to your decision to remain single.”
How Henry longed to look at Miss Fernside now . But he kept his eyes on Mr. Chumley, not wishing for the gentleman to discover the eavesdropper. Not only would Mr. Chumley question Henry for not warning him of her presence—but Henry wasn’t entirely sure he had an answer to satisfy him.
He supposed he kept her presence to himself because he was merely curious to see what the woman might do next.
“At any rate,” Mr. Chumley finally finished, “please tell me if any issue arises with your riding with the Hasketts and Miss Fernside. I have been assured that she shall be veritably imperceptible, but…” He glanced from left to right—omitting looking backward toward Miss Fernside.
“I do fear, as she is unmarried, that she may begin to conduct herself as other young ladies do around amiable gentlemen such as yourself. Silly and flirtatious, you know. If this occurs, do alert me, and I shall deal with the matter straightaway.”
Henry had thought the entire situation mildly humorous before. Now? He had to stop himself from laughing at Miss Fernside’s mouth fully dropping open in utter astonishment.