Chapter Nine #2
When they climbed into the Linfield carriage, Kitty was disappointed to find that they were alone.
Arabella must have noticed her looking around the carriage because she spoke.
“One advantage of being a married woman is that I am now considered an acceptable chaperone.” She smiled wryly. “Heaven only knows why.”
Kitty laughed as she sat back against the bench seat. “Care to tell me where we are going shopping that requires sturdy shoes?”
“We have a few stops planned today,” Arabella replied with a conspiratorial smile.
Within a few minutes, the carriage pulled up in front of a vaguely familiar street of storefronts.
Their first stop was a haberdashery, where Arabella purchased two ribbons without even looking at them and handed one to Kitty.
They then went into an apothecary, where Kitty selected a peppermint and Arabella purchased a small bag of lemon drops.
Less than a quarter hour after arriving, they returned to the carriage, armed with a basket of pastries they’d purchased from a bakery.
The third stop had actually taken them the longest. It was the strangest, and shortest, shopping trip Kitty had ever experienced.
After tapping on the roof to signal the driver, Arabella smiled. “Now that I have fulfilled my promise to take you shopping, we can continue with the rest of our plans.”
Kitty positively burned with curiosity. “Which are?”
“All in good time,” Arabella replied before popping a lemon drop into her mouth.
Confident her friend would not answer any pointed questions, Kitty instead asked her about how she had ended up married to her vicar husband.
She sat and listened to the story, sometimes humorous, sometimes heartbreaking, as the carriage rolled through the streets of London.
After several turns, Kitty’s surroundings became less familiar.
At last, they pulled up in front of a modest stone townhouse. The houses were smaller than in her neighborhood, and decidedly less grand than Lady Sampson’s townhouse, but they were neat and clean. They were obviously not in the rookeries.
“Where are we?” Kitty asked as they pulled up in front of a townhouse.
“The home of Mr. and Mrs. Hazelwood, Nat Towne’s mother and stepfather.”
The door opened the moment the knocker sounded, and a kindly-looking woman with silver hair and blue eyes greeted Arabella.
After a quick introduction, Mrs. Hazelwood took the basket of pastries and ushered them into a large back garden that appeared to be shared with all the other houses on the block.
Two nearly identical-looking men stood on the edge of the lawn, both dressed in worn trousers, shirt sleeves, and simple waistcoats. Though attired similarly, she had no trouble telling them apart when Tim stepped forward and kissed his wife on the cheek. “Thank you for retrieving our guest.”
Kitty’s stomach did a flip when Oliver welcomed her with a warm smile. “We are glad you could join us.”
Kitty pursed her lips as she studied him.
The expression on his handsome face reminded her of a young lad who was up to no good, and proud of it.
“Join you for what?” He stepped to the side and waved his arms toward where two young men, perhaps fourteen and sixteen years of age, were standing.
They each held a bat, with the familiar shape of a three-pegged wicket at their feet. “Cricket?”
“Cricket,” Oliver confirmed. “Do the ladies wish to watch or play?”
Kitty looked at Arabella, who lifted her skirts just enough to reveal sturdy half-boots. “I plan to play if you’ll join me.”
Meeting Oliver’s eye, Kitty felt a wave of emotion.
He’d planned this for her. He’d arranged for her mother to be elsewhere and borrowed a back garden so that she could play a game of cricket.
Not only did he not appear to judge the adventurous side of her, he supported it. Like nobody else since her father died.
But could she really play cricket? In London? She looked around at the smiling faces. They would never tell. They were co-conspirators, after all. She felt the vibration of excitement building as she turned back to Oliver. “I just have one question.”
“Which is?” Oliver asked, holding her gaze.
Kitty all but whispered her response. “Am I bowling or batting?”
“Whatever you prefer,” Oliver replied.
A slow smile spread across Kitty’s face. “Bowling.”
After introducing Kitty to the two young men, neighbors who had agreed to join them, they set up for an informal match.
Even if the garden had been large enough for a full cricket pitch, which it wasn’t even close to being, they did not have enough people to split into full teams. Instead, they planned to simply take turns as the two batters, with everyone else in the field.
When Tim tossed Kitty the cricket ball, she rolled it between her hands, feeling the familiar weight. It had been years, but she could still do this. She could play cricket.
Oliver swung the bat, and missed, allowing the ball to knock the bail off the top of the wicket.
Yet again. He looked at Kitty to find her sporting an expression of supreme smugness.
She’d earned it. After a few unsteady bowls to start their game, she’d gained her confidence and outmatched each of them in turn.
He’d never seen such a talented bowler outside of official clubs.
And he’d certainly never played against one.
Oliver walked towards her and held out a bat. “Now that you’ve humbled the lot of us, I would love to see you bat.”
Kitty lifted her chin. “Will you be bowling?”
In truth, Tim was the better bowler. But Oliver could not resist her challenge. “I believe I will.”
Kitty accepted the bat and then lined up in front of the wicket.
On Oliver’s first bowl, she swung with all her might.
The ball went flying over his head, past Arabella in the field, and towards the townhouse behind them.
For one horrible moment, Oliver thought it would go clean through the window on the first floor.
Instead, it hit perhaps a hand width to the side and bounced off.
Everyone else started cheering, but Kitty stood frozen. She’d not even tried to run to the opposite wicket. After crossing the distance between them, Oliver placed a hand on her arm. “Are you well?”
She looked up at him with wide eyes. “I almost broke a window.”
“But you did not.” Oliver attempted to comfort her.
After looking at the window and then back at him, she rambled, “but what if I had? I would need to pay for it. My mother would have to be told. And then she’d know I was playing cricket. In London.”
Her words came out in a panicked rush, her voice getting higher with each syllable. Unsure what else to do, he pulled her against him and wrapped his arms around her back. “I planned this.” He spoke into her ear. “If anyone here causes any damage, I will apologize and take responsibility.”
He felt the tension drain from her as she relaxed into his chest. After a long moment, she spoke. “You would take credit for my hit?”
With a chuckle, he stepped back and released her, his arms feeling bereft at her absence. “It was a very fine hit.”
“We gonna keep playing?” The younger of the two brothers called out.
“Do you want to?” Oliver addressed Kitty. “We can be done if you prefer.”
Kitty glanced at the nearly broken window. “I want to keep going, but I’ll be more careful.”
They lined up again and resumed the game. With Oliver bowling instead of Kitty, the batters hit as often as not. That truth may have dinged his pride somewhat, but it made for a far more exciting game.
Sometime later, Mrs. Hazelwood stepped into the gardens with a pitcher of lemonade and a few cups. She set them down on a small table and disappeared back into the house before returning with a basket of pastries.
“I believe that is our signal that our time is up,” Tim called out before linking arms with his wife and strolling to the patio.
They all gathered around the table to enjoy the refreshments. After Oliver enjoyed three cups of lemonade and an apple tart, Arabella ruined the fun. “If everyone is to be home and cleaned up before their mothers’ return, we had best be going.”
Kitty looked around, as if suddenly noticing something. “Where is Lady Diana?”
“At the same meeting as your mother,” Oliver admitted. He’d asked Lady Sampson to help distract both women, and she’d come through beautifully. She’d only required that he promise not to do anything that would hurt Kitty or cause a true scandal.
Kitty’s face drained of color. “Does she know how we’ve spent our afternoon?”
“Only that I planned to take you shopping,” Arabella provided. “After raising these two,” she gestured between her husband and his twin, “she may suspect something else is afoot. But she didn’t ask questions.”
Since arriving in London, Oliver had suspected that the cold persona Kitty donned in society was a product of her mother.
But the relief in her expression proved it.
She honestly feared her mother’s reaction to their activities.
Part of him felt guilty for putting her in a position that she must lie to the woman.
But then he remembered the broad grin on Kitty’s face as she’d snagged a hit mid bounce and gotten Tim out at the wicket.
He realized society would frown on young ladies playing cricket in Hyde Park. But what kind of mother would completely forbid harmless fun that brought her daughter pleasure?