Chapter 9
Cloudy mornings were meant for lolling about beneath a downy counterpane, surrendering to heavy eyelids and the cozy softness of a feather bed …
especially when true sleep hadn’t arrived until just before dawn.
Juliet yawned as she trod the corridor, feeling a little guilty that Charity and Henry would likely be finishing up their tea and toast by now.
But after last night’s fruitless ride, she’d stared up at the lacy bed curtains, puzzling over the figure she’d barely caught a glimpse of.
There was no way to identify who it had been, but circumstantially, Mr. Dankworth’s land did neighbour Bedford Manor in that particular corner of the estate.
Maybe a visit to the hermit was in order—especially since the last nameless bouquet of flowers left on the manor’s front stoop had been a collection of wildflowers.
Flowers she knew grew on the man’s grounds.
Stifling one more yawn, she entered the breakfast room, then stopped, surprised to see another lady seated next to Charity.
And what a lady. Her rich brown hair twisted into a lovely coil atop her head.
Her skin was flawless on her heart-shaped face, highlighting dainty rose-red lips and eyes the blue of which could occupy a poet for years.
Maybe decades. She was the kind of woman whose beauty might invite envy, a perfection that could easily spark rivalry amongst other ladies.
Henry stood. “Good morning, Miss Finch.” He dipped his head. “May I introduce a dear family friend, Miss Clara Whitmore. Clara, meet our houseguest, Miss Juliet Finch.”
Juliet dipped a curtsey. “Pleased to meet you, Miss Whitmore.”
“You as well, Miss Finch.” The woman nodded her greeting and then turned to Henry. “You are full of surprises, Henry. I wasn’t aware you were hosting a houseguest, especially now with Charity potentially traveling to Italy.”
He waited until Juliet sank into her seat, then reached for another piece of toast before he sat as well. “Miss Finch’s visit is rather unplanned, though her presence has been a great help to me.”
Clara’s eyebrows arched ever so slightly, though to her credit, her tone remained light. “How intriguing. You’ve never mentioned her before.”
Henry’s gaze flickered to Juliet, his face unreadable. “Miss Finch has been kind enough to lend her assistance in a … delicate matter involving the estate—one in which she is well versed.”
“Mmm.” Clara tilted her head as if deep in thought.
“Between overseeing the estate and watching out for your sister’s well-being, I wager you’ll barely have a moment to yourself.
Then again, you’ve always been rather adept at juggling multiple responsibilities.
” She took a slow sip, her gaze sliding to Juliet with pointed interest. “But I admit it does make me wonder what could possibly demand so much of your attention that you’ve called in reinforcements. ”
Juliet fought the urge to squirm on her chair. The woman’s unspoken question hung in the air like a noose waiting for a neck.
Time to steer the conversation onto safer ground. “I must say, Miss Whitmore, the view from Bedford Manor is quite stunning this time of year. You are blessed indeed to have such friends. It must be wonderful to visit whenever you like.”
“Yes, I’ve always loved coming here.” She sipped her tea. “There’s a peace to this place, the sort that makes one feel they belong here.”
Charity patted Clara’s arm. “Of course you do. Our families have been intertwined for generations.”
“And hopefully for many more generations to come.” She lifted her cup high. “To good friends.”
“Hear, hear!” Henry grinned, the clink of his cup along with Charity’s and Clara’s a cheerful sound for such a dreary morning.
It was an intimate exchange, wholly natural of course, and yet a bittersweet pang sank deep in Juliet’s chest. This was something she couldn’t be a part of. Could never be part of again. She busied herself with buttering a piece of toast, hoping to ease the uncomfortable knot in her stomach.
Clara set down her cup. “So, Miss Finch, have you been enjoying your stay?”
“Very much.” She smiled, astonished at the truth in her words. Though she’d been here little more than a week—and she missed her aunt—somehow she’d settled right into manor life, albeit not in a role she would have chosen.
“I would expect as much.” Clara dabbed her lips with the corner of a linen serviette. “It is serene here, tucked away in the countryside. I find there’s something about these quieter places that soothes the soul, don’t you think?”
“I could not agree more.” And she couldn’t. Life at Bedford Manor was much less stressful than scrapping about for her next meal in the dark of night.
“I always breathe a little easier when I come for a visit. Oh, Charity, your cup is empty, dearest.” Clara reached for the teapot and poured some of the tepid brew, then turned back to Juliet.
“I hope you’ve had the chance to enjoy the grounds.
I find a good walk through the gardens or a ride across the fields is so invigorating. ”
Juliet took a bite of her toast, hardly tasting the creaminess of the butter. It had been so long since she had been able to stroll through manicured gardens without a care or ride a horse simply for the pleasure of it.
She set down her toast, appetite fleeing. “I have not had the time yet, but I should like to.”
“I am afraid I have kept Miss Finch quite busy,” Henry cut in.
Clara’s gaze bounced between them, finally landing on Juliet. “Well, if you ever tire of Henry’s company and Charity is unavailable, do let me know. I’m always happy to take a stroll with new friends.”
New friends. The words struck a chord inside more deeply than they should have. How long had it been since someone had spoken to her with such kindness, as though she was someone worth knowing? And just how quickly would that sentiment change if this woman learned the truth of her situation?
“That’s very generous of you, Miss Whitmore,” she murmured.
Clara waved a hand dismissively, the gold bracelet on her wrist catching the light of the oil lamps. “Oh, please, do call me Clara. I daresay we’ll all be on first-name terms soon enough.”
Her throat closed. Juliet couldn’t help but miss the ease with which women of means like Clara moved through life, their days filled with tea and companionship.
The type of life that had been snatched away from her thanks to her father.
And it was moments like these that brought that loss into sharp focus.
“How long will you be staying, Miss Finch?” Clara asked.
She fought the urge to glance at Henry. Doing so would be a dead giveaway that her presence relied solely on his command. “It is hard to say, but I do not think it will be very long.”
Clara smiled. “Very practical of you. As my mother always says, houseguests and fish are best enjoyed while still fresh. Anything longer leaves a bad smell instead of good memories.” She laughed merrily, then engaged Henry in a conversation about some mutual friend on a neighbouring estate.
She drew both her and Charity into the conversation every now and then with a comment or a question.
And the tightness in Juliet’s throat turned into an ache.
How lovely it was to relive her former life, if only for a few fleeting moments.
How kind it was of Clara to include her.
Charity leaned close to Juliet and whispered, “She would make a fine sister-in-law, wouldn’t she?”
Juliet’s heart twisted painfully. Clara had warmth, charm, connections. As Juliet studied the easy rapport between them, she could only agree.
“Yes,” she whispered back, the word catching just slightly. “She would.”
Yet in that moment, she couldn’t help but wonder what her life would have been like if her circumstances had been different. Once upon a time, she might have had a chance to marry a gentleman like Henry. A sigh leaked out of her. That was not her life anymore.
Clara turned back to them. “Charity, are you ready for our ride?”
Henry’s jaw hardened. “I regret to say your ride has been postponed … indefinitely.”
“Oh?” Clara’s smile faltered. “Why? Is something amiss?”
He flashed a smile of his own. “Nothing to concern you.”
“Too late.” She frowned. “I am already concerned.”
Oh dear. It wouldn’t do to have this woman know about the trapline that’d thrown Henry from his horse. Juliet forced a light laugh. “You know men. Always fretting about some small thing. Would you not agree, Charity?”
“My brother is rather overprotective.” She shrugged one slim shoulder.
“There is no question that you are his pet, darling.” Clara leaned back in her chair, cocking her head at Henry. “But as I have come all the way here, I think it only fair to know why I am to be deprived of riding with your sister.”
A muscle near his eye twitched as he exchanged a glance with Juliet.
She gave him a subtle shake of her head, trying to warn him of the dangers of giving too much information.
A seemingly innocent conversation could turn into an unintentional weapon in circles where gossip and curiosity were constant companions.
Even so, he pressed on. “There was an incident in the woods last night. Something spooked my horse.”
Clara’s eyes widened. “What do you mean?”
Juliet’s stomach clenched. He should not have said anything. Revealing such a thing might cause more problems than it solved.
“Nothing to be overly troubled about.” He stretched out his legs, crossing one ankle over the other as if he hadn’t a care in the world. “But I think it best to avoid the woods for now.”
Clara’s porcelain brow furrowed, and Juliet could see the wheels turning behind those brilliant blue eyes. “Well then, if we cannot ride, perhaps a walk in the garden instead?” She turned to Juliet. “And naturally you must join us, Miss Finch.”