Chapter Twenty-Two
Tuesday morning, Frederick waited for Miss Kendall at the Greek temple for their drawing lesson.
Would she even show up? Now, quite positive that his brother was her intended romantic object, he even questioned whether her interest in him was simply a ploy to get closer to Robert.
Having achieved her goal, why should she bother with me any longer?
As he paced, he thought back to dinner that Sunday after learning of his brother’s intentions toward Miss Kendall.
Robert had returned from Haverstone in a cheerful mood, and it had taken all of Frederick’s self control not to ask if things were now settled for good and all between him and Miss Kendall.
He had merely inquired if Robert’s visit to the neighboring estate had been pleasant.
To his surprise, Robert laughed and replied that he should more accurately call it “promising,” or even “profitable.” When Frederick pressed him to explain himself, his brother just laughed again and said that things were proceeding exactly as he had hoped.
Frederick looked up from his brooding to see Charlotte approaching, accompanied by a young girl. She broke into a smile when she caught his eye and waved as the two climbed to the top of the hill.
“Gracious,” she exclaimed, entering the temple.
“I should not have walked so quickly—I have quite winded myself.” She smiled at the girl, then said, “Mr. Morton, may I please present my niece, Miss Lucy Gillingham? Lucy, I do not think you have formally met my good friend, the reverend Mr. Frederick Morton. He is going to give me a drawing lesson while you play.”
Obviously impressed to be presented to such a gentleman and trying to be as grownup as possible, Lucy curtseyed and said, “Good morning, sir.”
Frederick bowed and said, “My very great pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Gillingham.”
Charlotte patted her niece’s back with approval. “Now, run along, but stay within shouting distance, please. We shall fetch you later so that we may be back home in time for breakfast.”
The girl eagerly ran down one side of the hill toward a wooded area where she knew a stream ran. “I am going to look for crawdads!” she cried.
When she was gone, Charlotte smiled apologetically.
“I am sorry to impose my niece on you. For some reason, she was up and dressed early this morning and caught me as I was leaving the house to join you. She insisted on coming and so we left word with the governess and, well, here we are. I have sworn her to secrecy, however, as to your presence. I hope that is agreeable.”
“It is perfectly fine, Miss Kendall. Actually, it makes our meetings more innocent. I should hate to damage your reputation if word of our private lessons were to become public knowledge. Especially now that…” His voice trailed off a moment.
“Now that what, Mr. Morton?” Charlotte asked.
“Nothing—I do not know what I was going to say. Forgive me.” He gave a nervous laugh and looked away a moment, before continuing, “Well. I thought today we might work on a landscape. The prospect of Haverstone grounds from the temple is an admirable one but also difficult to render due to the perspective. Still, I thought it might be an enjoyable challenge for you to try. Are you willing to attempt it?”
“Yes, although I think I shall require a lot of guidance from my instructor,” Charlotte said, grinning. She unpacked her drawing supplies, as he did the same.
For the next hour they sketched side by side, Frederick making some suggestions to help Charlotte accurately render the illusion of distance.
“I think you are catching on quite well, Miss Kendall,” he said, nodding in approval. “You seem to have improved even since our last lesson. Tell me, have you been practicing?”
Charlotte gave a sheepish smile. “I confess I have—at least as much as I can by sneaking away from my sister. You see, I am very aware of the demands I make upon you for these lessons. Therefore, I have made an effort to practice what you have shown me. I should hate for you to think your time was wasted.” She added a few more pencil strokes on her paper to create shadows in the clouds.
He paused before saying softly, “No time spent with you could ever be thought a waste, Miss Kendall, I assure you.”
At his comments, she sharply turned her face from her work to him, and he saw her countenance was filled with surprise and something else—sorrow?
Confusion? He held her gaze a long while before returning his attention to drawing and mumbling, “After all, I have little to fill my days just now. I shan’t give another sermon for two weeks, and my curate duties are light enough. ”
“Well, I still appreciate it so much. I find drawing is a favorite escape for me. As I said, Dorothea schedules so much for me every day.” She giggled.
“I should not tell you this, but the other day when we were visiting Brentwood and I played for you after dinner—oh, please do not tell anyone I said this, but my sister had me practicing three hours a day leading up to our visit in order for me to have those pieces memorized.”
Frederick laughed. “And here I thought you were simply extraordinarily accomplished at the pianoforte.”
“Well, I am not, believe me. But, if I fooled you and Mr. Morton into thinking so, then my sister’s aims were accomplished.” Her face turned serious. “I do enjoy the pianoforte, but more so if I can play just for myself and not an audience.”
“Your audience did indeed take great pleasure in it, however. That must be some consolation to you.”
“You are so kind.” She smiled shyly at him, before continuing to work on her sketch.
They worked silently a while before Frederick ventured, “I hear my brother paid Haverstone a visit Sunday afternoon and that you walked the gardens with him. Did he by chance ask you anything in…particular?” He hated himself for such an obvious ploy, but he was aching to know if she had promised her hand to Robert.
He held his breath and watched her set her lap easel aside and stare off before replying.
“He did.”
She said no more, and Frederick felt his heart thudding hard his chest. He knew he should let the matter drop, but he could not. He had to know.
“And…will you share with me what he asked you? Tell me, am I to wish you both joy?”
“No. Not yet,” she whispered, still not looking at him. “He…he asked me to promise him three sets at the upcoming ball my sister and brother are holding. The first, third, and fourth.”
“Three sets. I see. And, did you grant them?” He stared at her lovely face, which he had drawn once in real life and three times since then from memory, wishing he might reach out and cup her chin in his hand to pull her to him and kiss her.
But, he sat, stoic, his hands clenched and holding his breath as he waited for her answer.
“I did. However, I should so wish to ask if—oh, I know it is very unseemly for me to speak thus, but I fear you might be reluctant to ask me yourself,” she spoke in a rush, avoiding his gaze, “and Dorothea will quickly fill every available dance with other gentlemen the night of the ball, so pray forgive my boldness in asking if you…if you would consider being my partner on the fifth set?” She covered her face with her hands, waiting. How could she have spoken so?
Frederick swallowed hard before trusting his voice. “I should be honored, Miss Kendall. And, pray, do not feel ashamed of speaking in such an open and frank manner with me.” He forced a laugh. “Like our lessons, it is just one more secret between us I shall always keep.”
The greatest secret of all, however, is my utter and complete love for you. Words he so wished to speak aloud, but knew he could not.
Charlotte peeked at him between her fingers, then lowered her hands and smiled.
“Thank you. I shall look forward to it with as much anticipation as any other partner I shall have that night.” She rose and collected her art materials.
“We should go. Let us find my niece. Lucy!” she called loudly.
Waiting, she heard nothing in reply. “Lucy!” Again, no response.
Suddenly anxious, she reached out to grip Frederick’s arm.
“Where could she be? Oh, Mr. Morton, help me find her at once.”
“She last went in this direction, did she not?” Frederick said, grabbing his and Charlotte’s art cases. “Come, she cannot be far.”
The two hurried down the hill, both calling Lucy’s name repeatedly as they entered the woods. Looking frantically around her, Charlotte could see no sign of her niece.
“Should we split up? We could cover more ground that way,” she said.
“No, I think it best we stay together. If she is injured in some way, you will need my assistance.”
“Lucy! Lucy!” called Charlotte. “Where are you?” Tears sprang to her eyes. “Oh, Mr. Morton—how shall I ever forgive myself if she…she…”
“Now, now, do not anticipate the worst, Miss Kendall. I am certain she is well. She said she was going to hunt for crawdads, did she not? Let us go find the stream.”
As quickly as they could manage, the two continued their search, pausing now and then to call for Lucy, and to listen for any sound. As they neared the stream, Charlotte halted abruptly.
“Wait—I think I hear something.”
They paused to listen and in the distance caught the sound of running water and someone crying.
“Lucy!” Charlotte ran toward the sound, heedless of the branches snagging at her dress. After a few moments, she saw the girl on the bank on the far side of the stream. Her weeping niece sat in a wet dress, clearly distressed. “Oh, my dear girl. Are you injured?” Charlotte asked.
“Auntie Charlotte!” the girl cried. “I was reaching for a crawdad when I slipped on a wet rock and turned my ankle. It hurts terribly to walk. I have been waiting and waiting for you.”
“I am so sorry, dearest. I am here now.” Charlotte bent to remove her shoes to fetch Lucy, but Frederick pulled her back.
“Allow me, Miss Kendall. I have boots more suitable to the task.” He splashed across the stream and reached the sniffling child. “Now, Miss Gillingham, I am going to lift you in my arms and take us both back to your dear auntie. Is that all right?”
The girl nodded and held her arms up to him. He lifted her easily and carried her back across the stream where he gently set her down upon a log. Charlotte knelt to examine Lucy’s ankle. It was swollen and looked tender.
“Oh, Lucy, I am so sorry. I ought not have let you go off by yourself. What will your mother say?”
“We must get her home at once,” Frederick said. “That damp dress might cause a chill, even in the summer weather. If you bring our art supplies, I shall carry Miss Gillingham back to Haverstone.”
“Oh, but then—” Charlotte broke off and covered her mouth, her eyes wide.
Frederick nodded. “I know what you are thinking—that for me to carry the girl to Haverstone would expose our private art lessons to all. But, there is nothing else for it. You cannot manage by yourself.” He lifted Lucy up carefully, to protect her ankle from being jostled.
“We shall simply have to face their reaction, whatever it may be.”
“Dorothea will be most unhappy that I have risked compromising myself by meeting with you alone, innocent as our meetings are.”
Lucy spoke up. “Well, Auntie Charlotte, you should just say you and Mr. Morton met this one time by accident. And then, tell them I was naughty and did not want to go home, so I ran off by myself into the woods and fell. If you tell them that story, you will not get into trouble.”
Charlotte and Frederick stared at Lucy, then at each other.
“Your niece is too clever by half, Miss Kendall,” Frederick said. “But, it is a sound alibi. What do you say?”
“I agree it might be accepted as a plausible story,” she answered slowly. “Lucy, I hate to ask you to lie for my sake. Why would you suggest it?”
“I like Mr. Morton,” she said simply. “If he gets into trouble, then he might not come visit any more. Besides, this way, he gets to be the hero.”
Charlotte leaned in and kissed her niece’s forehead. “You dear, sweet girl. When you are all healed, I shall take you into the village and buy you all the candies you can possibly eat.”
She picked up the art cases and the three slowly made their way back to Haverstone, practicing their story along the way.