Chapter 19
“Now, how about that tour?” Alana declared.
The others expressed their interest, so Gage and I conceded graciously, rising to our feet to join them. Gage took Emma from me so that I could lead them through the house, awkwardly at first and then with more excitement as I explained the changes we’d made.
Stepping out onto the veranda, we showed them the small garden, which I hoped to continue improvements to the following spring.
Then we moved into the adjoining conservatory-type space which we had added to the cottage for my art studio.
It boasted two glass walls and a glass ceiling to provide ample light, as well as a customized ventilation system to rid the space of noxious smells and the toxic fumes that arose from some of my pigments.
Much of the rest of the main floor had required little renovation, though I was perhaps a bit overly pleased to show them the artwork I’d inherited from Gage’s grandfather and finally been able to hang.
If Alfie was at all disgruntled that the late Lord Tavistock had left the paintings to me, he didn’t show it.
But then he readily admitted he didn’t know a thing about the subject.
I elected not to take our party of seven—eight including Emma—traipsing through the servants’ domain, though the kitchen had been given a significant refurbishment.
However, several of the bedchambers had been altered and a water closet had been added as well as a bath with running taps, the water for which was collected in a cistern on the roof.
We ended our tour in the nursery, admiring the new furniture and fresh paint, and the charming view from the windows.
Lorna and Alana expressed more interest in this child’s domain than the men, so we became separated as Gage, Emma, and the others drifted back downstairs.
A short time later, I heard the faint clack of balls, telling me they’d returned to the study where the carom billiard table was located.
Lorna was admiring the tent Bree and I had constructed in one corner from bent rods and gauzy fabric so that the light could filter through. We’d tossed a number of large pillows inside along with a cozy blanket. “It’s enchanting,” she said, bending down to peer inside. “Does Emma like it?”
“It’s her favorite place in the nursery. And mine as well,” I admitted with a laugh. “I may or may not have nearly fallen asleep the last time we were playing ‘bears in a cave.’ ”
“Like I may or may not have once fallen asleep after being taken captive by Malcolm while we were reenacting the Battle of Waterloo,” Alana admitted with a chagrined smile.
“You did?” I gasped. “Oh, I imagine he still hasn’t forgiven you for that.” I turned to Lorna to explain. “He takes his reenactments very seriously. Particularly when they involve Wellington.”
“I was able to convince him I was merely attempting to personify a French soldier worn down by the might of the British troops.” Her smile broadened in the face of our amusement. “In actuality, I was expecting my third child and desperate for a nap.” Her expression turned shrewd. “Are you…?”
Though she didn’t complete the question, I knew what she was asking. My hands lifted involuntarily to press to my abdomen. “No.”
She nodded, but didn’t press for more information, turning instead to examine a simple charcoal sketch I’d made of her children that I’d framed and hung on the wall above Emma’s cradle.
“But perhaps it’s time,” I admitted hesitantly, unsure how to ask the question I wanted to.
“Are you trying?” Lorna inquired.
“We haven’t not been trying.”
Her lips quirked, knowing what that meant. After all, she’d conceived Sherry when Rory was just five months old.
“And Emma is fifteen months old now. Which I suppose makes me wonder…” I didn’t know why I couldn’t utter the rest of the words. Perhaps it was because they were both looking at me with such kindness.
“Why you aren’t with child again?” Alana finished for me.
I bit my lip and nodded.
My sister draped her arm around me, heedless of how it rumpled the wide gigot sleeves of her chartreuse morning dress.
“Oh, dearest. Don’t worry. Certainly not yet.
Sometimes it simply takes the time it takes.
I didn’t conceive Philipa until eighteen months after Malcolm was born, and that wasn’t for wont of trying,” she finished on a chuckle.
“And Philipa was well over three years old before I realized I was expecting Greer.”
I dabbed at the corner of my eye with my finger as relief stole through me. “I hadn’t thought of that.”
“It’s early days,” she declared with a wave of her hand. “It happened readily enough with your first. It will happen again. Just be patient.”
“Alfie and I didn’t even realize it could happen again so quickly,” Lorna confessed.
“You should have seen his face when I told him.” She fluffed her primrose printed skirt.
“And to tell you the truth, I sort of wish we could have waited a little longer.” She flushed as if this might be a shameful admission.
“Rory had barely turned one and then Sherry was born. And you know how much of your time and vigor a newborn consumes, even with a nursemaid. I fear I’m missing out on so much with Rory.
And then when I’m thinking about Rory while I’m caring for Sherry, I fear I’m missing out on my youngest as well! ”
Alana stepped away from me to embrace Lorna.
“I guess there is no perfect timing,” I confessed, never having considered Lorna’s perspective. “Not that we have much control over the matter in the first place.”
“Oh, wouldn’t that be a comfort!” Alana proclaimed longingly.
I knew she was thinking of her own difficulties.
She’d almost died giving birth to Greer and had been warned that another pregnancy could be dangerous.
But in spite of all of her and Philip’s precautions, she’d gotten with child again.
I remembered the anxiety of those months, the worry that she might not survive the birth of her fourth child.
Providentially, she and wee Jamie had both lived, though there had been a few terrifying hours when that had been uncertain.
I knew that she and Philip were doubly cautious now, but at the back of their minds, they must always be aware that no precautions were foolproof.
She shook off the thought, refocusing on Lorna. “But Rory knows you love him. Sherry, too.”
I nodded eagerly in agreement. “You can see it in their faces when you walk in the room.”
“Really?” she asked, blinking back tears.
“Yes,” I said with quiet conviction, sensing she needed it. Honestly, I wondered that she couldn’t see it and then wondered if my sister couldn’t either. I turned to her. “It’s the same with Alana’s children. They’ve always adored her.”
Alana’s mouth opened and closed without making a sound, though I caught sight of a suspicious glimmer in her eyes. I supposed we were to all take our turns being emotional.
“Thank you, Kiera,” she finally managed to murmur.
I clasped my hands together and glanced at the door. “I suppose we should rejoin the men.”
But before I could take a step toward the door, I was unceremoniously hauled backward into an embrace by both women.
Alana smelled of the French perfume our mother had always favored, while Lorna’s scent hinted of thyme, rosemary, and lilacs.
I melted into them, absorbing their warmth and reflecting it back to them.
But I also couldn’t help remarking, “This would be much easier if you weren’t both so enamored with these gargantuan sleeves. ”
Lorna laughed while Alana scolded me affectionately. “Kiera.”
“What?” I protested, batting at her sleeve now that they’d released me and I could breathe again. “It’s rather like being smothered by a buckram cloud.”
Alana shook her head, but she couldn’t hide her smile.
—
I’m not sure what I’d expected, but when Gage and I emerged from the forest path into the parterre garden a short time later with Emma, there were no irritated guests waiting for us.
Even when we stepped through the French doors into the red saloon, there were no angry glares or accusations.
Rather, everything seemed to be carrying on as usual.
I could hear ladies’ voices coming from the left in the mauve drawing room and male voices coming from the right in the green drawing room.
The tension I’d been holding in my neck and shoulders released as we crossed the saloon toward the great hall. There we were intercepted by Bowcott.
“Mr. and Mrs. Gage,” he declared, sounding a trifle winded. “I’m glad I’ve found you.” He took a moment to regain his normally unflappable composure, lowering his voice so as not to be overheard. “Your maid and your valet are looking for you.”
Gage and I shared a look of misgiving, for if they were looking for us, and Bowcott was this ruffled, it must be something important.
My fears instantly centered on Mr. Birnam.
Had there been another attempt on his life?
But the second after I entertained this thought, I dismissed it.
If Birnam had been attacked, surely the other guests would be at sixes and sevens.
Whatever had happened had been kept quiet. So far.
“They are requesting that you join them in Mrs. Taylor’s sitting room,” the butler explained.
“Of course,” Gage replied, but halted mid-step, realizing he still held Emma, who was asleep on his shoulder.
I glanced behind us to see if my sister or Lorna, or even Trevor had entered behind us, but true to their resolve, they’d lagged behind, so that it wouldn’t seem we had been together.
“I can take Miss Gage up to her nanny, if you’d like,” Bowcott offered.
“If it’s not too much trouble,” I said.
“Not at all,” he assured me, and some of the merry twinkle returned to his eyes.
Gage carefully transferred Emma’s sleeping frame to the butler. She snuffled softly but then fell back asleep.