Chapter 8 - Vera
The day was cool and clear. The carriage swayed gently as they rounded the last corner that brought Montclare into view.
“What are you most looking forward to?” Vera asked.
“The biscuits.” Benjamin grinned.
She shook her head, smiling. Boys had a close relationship with their stomachs, especially at this age. She remembered how ravenous her brothers had always been, from the age of eight until twenty.
“And seeing Seamus, of course.”
Vera wanted to snort, but refrained. Benjamin was at an uncomplicated age—biscuits and a dog, and he was set to have a marvelous day.
She envied him. The older she got, the more complicated things became.
She would eat the same biscuits as Benjamin, pat Seamus’s massive head, but she wouldn’t derive near the amount of pleasure the boy would from either thing.
“Remember your manners,” Vera said as the carriage stopped in the grand drive. “No running indoors, and follow the lead of your host. Don’t ask for things that aren’t offered.”
“Yes, Miss Vera.”
She was satisfied—Benjamin was a very well-behaved boy, indoors. It was when he was set loose upon the countryside that she began to worry. And there were two of them—a set of diminutive conquerors, seeking to pillage the hedgerows for every scrap of mischief possible.
“Hello, Vera dear!” Candace rushed down the steps to greet her once she alighted from the carriage. “It’s been far too long.”
Vera smiled and agreed on the inside. They hadn’t had a proper visit, just the two of them, since before Candace was married. Now, she wondered if they ever would again. There was either her husband or her new son-by-marriage present whenever they met.
Though she loved both of them in their own way, sometimes Vera longed for the intimacy that she and Candace had once enjoyed—sharing secrets and inner thoughts along with a tea tray.
But life was forever changing, and Vera thought maybe that was part of the lesson: never taking anything for granted, as it might soon be past.
Even this, she thought, reminding herself to be grateful. Who knows how long I’ll still be in the countryside?
As Candace led her and Benjamin into the wide front hall, Vera’s thoughts returned to the letter to Mr. Audel that she’d started only last night. Although she didn’t want to take it, his was the only offer she’d received all these weeks she’d been looking.
With the return of the baron from India, she could feel her time in Devon growing short.
It was as if she stood on the wet sand of a beach, and the tide was coming in.
Even now, she felt the swirl of cold waters around her ankles; if she waited much longer, she’d drown.
The baron was going to ask her to leave soon—she could feel it.
“I thought we’d take a walk through the gardens before luncheon,” Candace said as Arthur stood from the leather sofa and Seamus lumbered up from his position in front of the fireplace, wagging his greeting.
Arthur was about the same age as Benjamin, but his frame was slighter, and he was half a head shorter. Candace had told Vera in confidence that her husband, James, wasn’t concerned in the least—he’d been much the same as a child, only hitting a growth spurt when he arrived at the age of twelve.
“Sounds wonderful.” Vera smiled, thrusting all her uncertainty about the future into a mental box. She’d lock it away for the day so she could enjoy this time with her dear friend.
Their steps moved from marble tiles out onto a flagstone patio, then crunched across gravel in the garden pathways.
The gardens of Montclare were lovely. The late flowers of the season nodded their final farewell atop stems. Leaves were starting to turn—several trees adopting the new colors of orange and yellow first, as if they were adventurous young ladies trying the new fashions from France.
“How are you?” Candace asked, beating Vera to the question. “It truly has been far too long. Adelaide had to be the one to tell me you’d moved to the baroness’s house.”
Because you were too busy to ask me yourself.
Vera squashed the little bit of hurt she felt. Of course her friend was busy—a new husband, a new son, a new household, her brother and expectant sister-by-law returned from Greece. There was much to be going on with; of course Vera had fallen through the cracks a bit.
“I’m well. Helping the baroness with her pets.” Vera smiled widely to cover her own fears and doubts.
“I hear the baron has returned from India. The entire town is talking of nothing else. How do you find him?”
“Between you and me?” Vera arched an eyebrow and Candace nodded. “He’s a terrible grump. I daresay he’s lost all conversational grace while he was away.”
If he had any to begin with, she silently added.
“Shocking, indeed. Once he’s rested from his journey, I’ll invite the entire household over for dinner, so I can examine him myself.”
Vera nodded, wondering if she’d still be in Devon when said dinner party took place. “We had a small gathering of our own yesterday evening. The baroness invited your brother’s secretary to dine with us.”
“Hamish?” Candace’s eyes went wide. “What an interesting development. Do you think he and the baroness…”
She trailed off delicately.
Vera smiled. “I’m not sure about that, but I don’t find the idea as shocking as some might. If Jacqueline were to settle down again, I don’t really see her choosing someone regular, do you?”
Candace pursed her lips and looked toward the distance as if studying the birds winging through the sky over the far pasture.
“I see what you mean,” she said finally. “I think you’re right—if she does decide to dip her toe into the pool of romance, I can hardly see her in a London ballroom. She would prefer a different sort of hunting ground.”
“Knowing her, she might find a match while hunting,” Vera quipped.
Candace laughed, a wonderful tinkling of bells that Vera had always envied.
Vera’s own laugh sounded more like a low grinding.
One of her brothers had uncharitably compared it to a carriage that had lost a wheel.
Vera privately thought it was more like an elderly woman who’d smoked four pipes a day for nigh on thirty years.
“She has an excellent mind and she knows herself well,” Candace said. “Wherever she finds someone, I daresay they’ll be very lucky.”
“Indeed. What man wouldn’t enjoy a hunting partner as beautiful as she?”
They rounded the bend and caught a brief glimpse of the boys before they plowed through a hedge and scampered off.
“Poor Seamus.” Candace reached down and patted the large dog on the head. “He doesn’t even try and keep up when those two boys are running about like that.”
“He stays in their general vicinity, though. That counts for something.”
“It does. He’s a very loyal dog.”
“Has he tried swimming lately?”
The mastiff and Arthur had to be fished out of a lake only months earlier. The dog possessed fewer swimming skills than Vera did, which was saying something.
“No, thank goodness. We’ve kept him well clear of all water deep enough to drown in.”
“Probably for the best. How is James?”
“Wonderful, as always. I am the luckiest of women.” Candace snuggled deeper into her fine shawl and smiled.
“I’ve never heard of a better match. I’m so happy for you both.”
She was, truly. James and Candace were meant for each other.
Still, Vera ignored the little pang in her heart.
It wasn’t jealousy—at least, not the way she understood it.
She didn’t begrudge them for having found each other, and she certainly hadn’t wanted to marry James.
But she did want someone who fit her as well as James fit Candace—someone who was hers and hers alone.
That was a well-worn hope, a coin that had been tossed into a wishing fountain years ago and left to tarnish, forgotten.
“How is Adelaide feeling?” Vera asked, to draw her own attention away.
Candace looked heavenward. “I daresay she’d be feeling a lot better if my brother would calm down. He’s far more nervous about the business than she is.”
“A matter of personality, I suppose.”
“He’s always been a bit high-strung.”
“They say that redheads often are,” Vera said lightly.
Candace pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes. “Statements like that simply aren’t fair. Now if I respond with anything other than perfect grace, I’ll only be proving your point.”
“That is the joke.”
“What of the baron? Does he share his mother’s hair color?”
Vera nodded, though she was perplexed at the conversation’s return to Stephen. Though she supposed it was natural—the countryside only offered so many topics, and a newcomer would be high on the list for weeks.
Candace gave a sly smile. “Do you remember when we first arrived in Devon?”
Vera couldn’t imagine what on earth had made her friend look so smug, but she knew better than to trust the expression.
“Are you referring to your brief, passionate affair with the gin?” Vera offered, trying to distract her from whatever mischief her mind had conceived. “Because I do remember that, yes.”
She waved a hand covered in delicate white lace. “Not that. I’m speaking of that silly game I made you play—the one where you answered a series of questions about what you wanted your life to look like.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Candace. And don’t get any ideas into your head, I mean it.”
For Vera did remember. Candace had pressed her into playing, guilted her into answering what kind of man she’d prefer to marry.
“You said he’d have dark hair and live in the country,” Candace insisted.
“And you claimed you’d marry a blonde who lived in the city. We all know how accurate that turned out to be.”
Candace just laughed—as a happily married woman, she was far past the point of injury when it came to previous speculation.