Chapter 18
CHAPTER 18
S everal days passed, and everything for the ball was coming together nicely. Ewart helped the men erect tents and build the different booths, including Rebecca’s, something he wished he hadn’t been dragged into. But he was a gentleman, after all, and couldn’t turn his back on the woman just because she was, well, Rebecca. Once her booth was put together, however, he made himself scarce and avoided her as best he could.
Abbey had been busy helping Chastity, Holly, and Hattie with their ball gowns, taking measurements and working with the dressmaker. Adelia kept herself busy overseeing it all, and Ewart was impressed by the way she elegantly gave orders, spoke with the men working on the booths, and kept everyone well-fed and happy. The house was certainly abuzz, and he had to dodge the extra help dashing down the hall to the French doors leading outside, arms full of decorations and other things needed for the ball. Chairs now lined the hall leading to the French doors in case the night of the ball got chilly. Everyone prayed the weather would hold and it didn’t rain.
A knock sounded at the front door. As Ewart was currently the only one nearby, he went to answer it. A messenger stood on the threshold. “Hello. I’m here to deliver this to a Mr. Ewart Bailey.”
Ewart’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh, well, that’s me.” He smiled and held out his hand.
The messenger handed him an envelope, and Ewart immediately recognized the handwriting. “Oh dear.”
“Something wrong, sir?” the messenger asked.
Ewart tore his gaze from the envelope. “No, no, not at all,” he said, a hint of strain in his voice. He handed the boy a coin and closed the door.
He turned the envelope over in his hands a few times and swallowed hard. The familiar crest had been pressed deep into the paper like a brand. “Father, what do you want?” he muttered.
He tapped the envelope against his other hand. Maybe if he delayed opening it, whatever was inside would change to something more pleasant. Unfortunately, he already knew what the letter would say. It was the same argument they’d been having for months.
“Ewart, who was at the door?” Mr. Tugs asked, shuffling up alongside him.
“Oh, just a letter for me. Mrs. Thorndyke at my old boardinghouse must have had it sent over.”
“Oh dear,” Mr. Tugs said. “All your mail’s not coming here yet?”
Ewart smiled at the old butler. “Apparently not.” He looked at the envelope again and tried not to cringe.
“Well,” Tugs said. “Aren’t you going to open it?”
Ewart let out a long sigh, nodded, and broke the seal. As he pulled out the letter, Mr. Tugs hovered nearby. Ewart gave him a nod and strode toward the drawing room. This was his business and his alone.
When he finally started reading, he had to sit down. The first line struck him like a punch to the gut:
Marriage is not a matter to be put off, my boy. Your mother and I have done what we can and have been patient with you. But enough is enough. Ewart, we want you to come home...
He lowered the letter and cringed.
His parents had been badgering him to marry for over a year. It was one of the reasons he’d come to America. To have one last great adventure before tying himself to matrimony. Unfortunately, his parents weren’t just insisting he marry, and they were intent on arranging it. They wanted an advantageous match.
He wanted love. But that wasn’t how things were done at home.
Ewart looked at the letter again, reading it twice, then a third time. After that, he simply stared until the words blurred together on the page.
England. The estates. All those expectations…
He closed his eyes a moment. Abbey…
Her face flashed before him. He imagined her pretty blue eyes wide with adoration. He hadn’t seen the look quite yet, but she’d come close a few times. He hoped she was developing at leastsome feelings for him. He wanted to give her time. Let their friendship grow.
For him, though, it was already more than friendship. If his parents ever found out he’d developed feelings for a housemaid, they might disown him. Maybe that wouldn’t be such a bad thing.
Abbey was pure. Real. There was nothing false about her. She spoke her mind. When she looked at him, there was no pretense. She didn’t see the son of a baron. She sawEwart Bailey, the writer and a fellow employee. He longed for more.
Just as he let out a long, frustrated sigh, Adelia entered the drawing room. “There you are. I was wondering where I might find you.”
He looked up, smiled faintly, then glanced at the letter in his hands.
“What’s that?” she asked.
“Something from my parents.” He held up the envelope and let it fall into his lap.
Adelia crossed the room to her chair. “Ewart,” she said, settling in. “You don’t look yourself. Either you’re about to faint from all the work you’ve done this morning, or something has managed to have you shaking in your boots. Pray tell, what’s on your mind?”
He looked up after realizing his gaze had fallen to the floor. “It’s nothing. It doesn’t matter.” He left the sofa.
“Nonsense,” Adelia said with a wave of her hand. “Goodness’ sakes. You look like someone who’s just seen a ghost. What sort of news was in that letter, if you don’t mind my asking?”
He gave her a tight smile. “It’s a letter from my father, if you must know.”
“Oh,” she said, raising an eyebrow.
“I need to go back to England. They plan to marry me off. They’re making arrangements now.”
She perched her diamond-studded monocle over one eye. “Come, let’s have it.” She held out her hand.
At this point, he didn’t care. He handed it over.
She skimmed the letter quickly, then passed it back. “My, my. Well, thisisa predicament, especially since I don’t see you leaving my employ so soon.”
He let out something that sounded like a strangled chuckle. “I don’t want to leave. I like it here.”
“Then don’t,” she said with a shrug.
“Yes, but how do I break it to my father?” he murmured.
“Well,” she said, “what are the reasons you want to stay?”
He ran a hand through his hair. “I’ve found something here, Adelia. A life. One that I enjoy. I’m finding purpose working for you and writing on the side. The last thing I want is to be folded up like a piece of paper so I’ll fit neatly into my father’s plans.”
Adelia’s face softened, and she gave him a warm smile. “When Xavier and I married, we had nothing. He was a miner, you know. And when he struck it rich, it didn’t change our love for each other. Whether he became wealthy or not, I would’ve been his wife to the end. We didn’t let money or anything else change us.”
She moved aside some swatches of fabric left by the dressmaker and sat back in her chair. “If this is who you like being, Ewart, then don’t let anyone or anything change you either. You can make a good life here, whether you’re working for me or not. Follow your heart. Find yourself a wife, raise a family, and be a writer.”
Ewart turned toward the sofa and sat down. “Yes... and I can also starve. Taking on my father’s title would provide well for a wife and family.” He ran a hand through his hair again. “Simply being in England would do it.”
“Is that what you want?” she asked, her tone frank.
“Truthfully?” He sighed. “I’m not sure.”
Adelia left her chair and sat beside him on the sofa, patting one of his hands. “You have to be true to you, Ewart.”
He nodded, the tension in his shoulders easing enough to make him realize just how tightly he’d been holding everything in. This was the one thorn in his side that he’d endured since arriving in America, and he needed to pull it.
“Do you want to get married?” she asked.
He stood and started to pace. “Of course I do.”
She gave him another warm smile. “And has anyone caught your eye here in America?”
He stopped in front of her, smiled, and chuckled. “You are a wily one, Adelia. What makes you think there’s anyone?”
She shrugged one shoulder. “Oh, I don’t know. But I do have eyes. And I do watch.”
He swallowed hard. Had she noticed the way he’d been looking at Abbey? Probably. But no matter. Let her look. He wasn’t one to hide his affections.
“May I tell you something?” she asked.
“Of course.”
Adelia smiled. “Don’t wait too long to say something. I believe a certain young lady would be more apt to let her heart free if you were to voice some of your affections.” She arched an eyebrow at him, then smiled again.
So, she had figured it out. He gave her a curt nod. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
“You do that,” she said. “And then see how far it takes you.” She gave him one last smile, stood, and left the room.
Ewart drew in a breath and let it out slowly. He was going to have to write his parents back and tell them to hold off. He had things to consider, and it wasn’t just about returning to England.
But now was not the time. He had work to do. And he’d better get to it.
Beyond the entrance to the drawing room, tucked behind a large fern, Rebecca held her breath. She hadn’t meant to eavesdrop, but the moment she spotted Mrs. Pettigrew heading into the drawing room and heard Ewart’s voice, she couldn’t help herself. She peeked through the greenery and caught a glimpse of Ewart’s troubled expression. What could be wrong?
She should go back outside, but curiosity got the better of her, so she stayed. Mrs. Pettigrew’s voice drifted out, followed by Ewart’s. He sounded upset. Then she heard the words marriage , England , arrangements . Good heavens! What was he talking about? Had she finally caught his eye?
A small, victorious smile began to spread across her face. Soon it broadened, and a tingle went up her spine. True, Ewart had been distant of late. In fact, she thought he was avoiding her. Still, he’d helped her with her booth, and to be fair, he didn’t have to. He could have made an excuse or pawned the task off on someone else. But being the thoughtful gentleman he was, he stuck it out to the end. And now she had her beautiful booth ready to go.
All she had to do was find someone dumb enough to man it. She certainly wasn’t going to.
She heard Adelia’s voice again. Did she know what Ewart had been thinking? Would she say anything toher? Rebecca nearly giggled at the thought. This could only mean one thing.
Ewart must be working up the nerve to propose!
She stifled a tiny gasp, smoothed her skirt, and stepped out from behind the fern. She’d best hightail it back outside before someone spotted her.
She’d just reached the French doors when she heard the sharp click of Mrs. Pettigrew’s heels on the marble floor. Rebecca turned innocently and looked toward her.
“Rebecca, there you are,” Mrs. Pettigrew said.
Rebecca smiled. “I just came inside to take a break.”
Mrs. Pettigrew studied her a moment. “Well then, there are plenty of chairs in the hallway. Have a seat.”
Rebecca gave her a shy smile and sat in the nearest chair. “Is Mr. Bailey inside the house?” she asked, as innocently as she could manage.
“Yes. He’s in the drawing room. I believe he’s preparing to get back to work. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must see to some things.” Mrs. Pettigrew stepped through the double French doors leading outside and closed them behind her.
As soon as she was gone, Mr. Bailey stepped out of the drawing room and started her way. Rebecca plastered on her prettiest smile and stood, casually blocking his path to the doors. “I was just taking a break,” she said. “Would you care to take one with me?”
He gulped and shook his head. “I’m afraid I can’t, Miss Harrington. I have too much work to see to.” He placed his hands gently on her arms, moved her out of the way, and went outside without another word.
Rebecca trembled with excitement. “Oh, this is going to be such fun!” she whispered. “I have no doubt he’ll propose to me at the ball.”
She clapped her hands, giggled, and followed him.