Chapter 6
Chapter Six
The canary had not stayed in Mr. Eastwood’s hat for long.
Upon their return tot he cottage, Juniper sent a maid into the attic, where she had seen an old bird cage covered in dust and webs.
The servant took care to clean it, then presented it to Emily with a curtsy and a curious glance inside the hat.
“I lined it with some old papers the master threw out,” Beth, the maid, said with a proud tilt to her head. “Is the wee bird a boy or a girl bird?”
“I have no idea,” Emily admitted as she carefully caught the little thing and put it through the cage door. It did not seem to mind the enclosure in the least, though it did begin pecking at the newsprint. “Who would be able to tell us?”
“M’brother’s under gardener at Bells Hollow, m’lady. His duties include pigeon keeping, ‘e could tak a look. I doubt pigeons nor canaries are all that different in yon respect.” Beth peered into the cage. “‘e mun know summat to feed the wee thing, too.”
After Emily applied to her brother, he sent word to the neighbor at Bells Hollow to borrow their under gardener, a young man named Tom, who arrived quickly with his cap in hand and a flush on his freckled cheeks.
He was quite respectful as he looked the canary over, beneath Emily’s watchful eye.
Jack stood with her, all of them in Jack’s study.
His careful inspection made, Tom announced, “Yonder’s a lass all right.
I’d laik gamble she’s bin real quiet-like, ain’t she?
The lassie birds dinnae sing as much as yon fellas.
That’s how they attract the ladies.” He reached into his pocket and took out a pouch.
“I brung some seeds an’ dried peas. Reyt wee lot I could find, perfect for ma pigeons.
Jist ye try a bit, see what’n she likes.
Seeds prob’ly enuf to keep her wick—lively I mean, m’lady. Sir.”
“Does she seem healthy?” Emily asked, looking the canary over as she hopped back into the cage and fluttered up to the perch across the middle.
“Aye, Lady Emily, nowt broken. She seems real spritely.” Tom gave a firm nod. “She’ll be a fine pet. And not too loud, neither.”
“Thank you, Tom.” Jack took the pouch of seeds and pressed a coin into the lad’s hand. “I appreciate your coming, and I will be certain to thank Mr. Nelson for the loan of your expertise.”
“It was a pleasure, Mr. Sterling. Lady Emily.” The under gardener bowed and went out the door, where his sister waited to show him out.
Emily bent over the cage, brow furrowed. “I am relieved she is healthy. And to know she’s a female.”
“I suppose you can give her a proper name now,” Jack said, putting the pouch of seeds on his desk beside the cage. “And is is a relief to know she isn’t as loud as her male counterparts.”
“I wonder if that is why she was left at the ruins,” Emily mused, her chest tightening at the thought.
She opened the pouch and sprinkled some of the seeds inside.
The canary went down to peck at them immediately.
“I need to find a dish for feeding her. And a dish for water. And a cover for the cage when she needs to sleep. Do you think we could find a book on keeping a canary?”
“Most likely. We can go into town tomorrow to look for one.” Jack leaned against his desk, and Emily glanced up to see him staring rather hard at her, not at the bird. “Emily. I think we should talk.”
Emily’s hand tightened around the seed pouch. Oh, she did not like the sound of that at all. Jack was always serious, it seemed, but this particular tone sounded far more pointed than normal.
She sprinkled more seeds in. “We are talking. About my canary. Maybe I should name her after a flower. Daisy, perhaps. Or a sort of music. We could call her Sonata.”
“I am certain you will select the perfect name for your new pet,” Jack said with his usual patience. “But I would like to discuss a more serious topic with you. Lord Hartwell.”
“Lord Hartwell?” she echoed, careful to keep her tone light. Likely failing. “What of him? Aside from his habit of leaving his dog’s leash at home, I did not think anything amiss when we saw him today. Though it was certainly kind of him to extend his mother’s invitation to us.”
Jack circled the desk to sit in his chair, a sigh escaping him. A rather long-suffering sigh. “Emily. You must admit, his attention to you, though brief, was pointed.”
“Was it? As you said, the interaction was so brief, I did not notice.” Except she had.
And then immediately hoped she was wrong about it.
Lord Hartwell had been kind to her family since their ascension to the peerage, but that did not mean that she wished to be singled out by him.
Handsome as he was, he was also quite intimidating.
A baron. Of course, her father’s new rank was higher, but she still knew so little about being an earl’s daughter.
She felt more at home among the gentry. Titles still fit like garments she wore for others’ comfort rather than her own.
“He made a point of telling you he looked forward to speaking with you at the dinner party,” Jack pointed out, posture as soldier-straight as ever.
“And Hartwell is not known to be particularly sociable. If the Duke of Montfort hadn’t brought us to Hartwell’s attention at the beginning of the Season, I doubt he would have paid us any mind, let alone danced with you. ”
Though such a statement might sting another woman’s pride, Emily had no illusions as to her ability to stand out in a crowd of equally pretty women. But she wondered, and then brushed away the question quickly, if Lyness Eastwood would have noticed her without the duke’s interference.
Crossing her arms, Emily met Jack’s gaze evenly. “Lord Hartwell hardly seems like the sort of man who should host dinner parties, then, if he is so unsociable.”
“Emily.”
“Jack.”
He chuckled. “You will not be influenced, then? Not in the least? Even if I tell you that Lord Hartwell expressed concern for you from the beginning? He and his brother were both quick to dance with you, to offer warning about unsavory gentlemen, and to wish you well during your first Season.”
“Both of them?” she asked, a small flicker of interest kindling in her mind.
“Oh. I suppose that makes them good friends. To you. I hardly know either of them.” Though she had enjoyed speaking to Lyness every time they had met.
Which was only a handful of times. And the longest they had spoken in private was that morning at the ruins.
Yet those moments remained at the forefront of her mind as the most pleasant conversation she had carried on with another in a long time.
“Then the dinner invitation will serve to give you ample opportunity to amend that circumstance,” Jack said, the slightest of smiles on his usually stern face. “Lady Hartwell rarely entertains—”
“Perhaps the family’s general standoffishness is hereditary,” Emily said with a wider grin, unable to help herself.
Jack narrowed his eyes at her. “Perhaps. But the point, dearest little sister, is that going to dinner at their home is an honor, infrequently bestowed, and that Lord Hartwell is a suitable match for the daughter of an earl. In addition to that, I find him to be honorable and a worthy friend. You ought to consider him an option if he asks to court you.”
Why did Jack always have to be so direct?
She knew what a match to a respectable, old family would mean to her father and siblings.
It would be good for everyone, and then none of them would have to worry about her anymore, either.
She would have a husband, and with him, a place that was no longer provisional.
A household to keep her busy. They could turn their energies to matters more important than whether she behaved herself in public.
Her father and eldest brother could continue to focus on building the family’s reputation and seeing to the estate, her second oldest brother could turn his attention to his daughters—now with dowries of their own and approaching the age to come out in Society.
Both of her already married sisters were happily ignoring everything to do with the family’s elevation, except when it came to hiring more help in their own homes.
None of them had heard from the third eldest brother, Arthur, but they all knew he would turn up eventually.
Emily was the family member flapping about like a loose ribbon, likely causing all of them anxiety when they wondered what would become of her.
With a sigh, she voiced her agreement. “Yes, Jack. I will consider it.”
But would such an arrangement make her happy? The question pressed in, and she set it aside.
“That is all I ask,” Jack said at last. “Now. Put it from your mind. Enjoy your songbird. Tomorrow, we will visit the bookshop. If they have nothing of use, we will check the subscription library. My membership was approved last week.” The touch of pride in his voice did not go unnoticed.
“What excellent news! That must make you feel like a true citizen of York, then.”
“It does, indeed.” He unfolded his arms and rose to open the door for her. “Off with you, Emily. Juniper will want to help you come up with names for your canary.”
She picked up the cage carefully. “Thank you, Jack.”
Once in the little corridor, she released a soft sigh. Then walked slowly through to the sitting room on the first floor of the cottage. Juniper sat there, near the window, reading a book with a dark cover. Whatever it was, it made Juniper’s expression rather pale.
“Juniper?”
Emily’s sister-in-law snapped the book closed, jolting as she did so. “Oh. I did not notice you coming in. The ghost in the hollow is bellowing, you see.” She held the book up. “The poor heroine is frozen with fear, standing at the edge of the cemetery.”
“Ah. It is no wonder you were not attuned to our world, given the troubles in the book’s.” Emily put the canary’s cage on a table near the window.