Chapter Six #2
Her sisters swarmed around her, just as she had known they would.
To irritate them, Merry purposely remained silent as she handed her cloak and gloves to Fipps.
She wished she could disappear into her room and savor the thrill of being so bold as to kiss Duncan on the cheek.
My goodness, but it had made her breathless and all warm and tingly inside.
Her sisters, however, would never let her be.
She’d spied them watching from the window.
Deciding to goad them even more, she started for the staircase.
“Where do you think you are going?” Grace blocked her way, and Felicity joined her.
“To the nursery to visit with the children before everyone leaves. It will be unbearably quiet once all of you go.”
“We saw you kiss Lord Kirkston on the cheek,” Serendipity said. “I was under the impression you had dismissed him as a possibility?”
“I had dismissed him until he showed up on our doorstep.” Merry decided not to mention the return of her reticule or her giving him her favorite handkerchief. Good gracious, her sisters would be beside themselves picking that one apart.
“Would you be happy living in Scotland?” Blessing asked, cringing as if the place were on the other side of the world.
“Galkirk is in the Lowlands. A little northwest of Gretna Green. Duncan showed me on the map in the library.”
Fortuity held up her thumb and forefinger with a tiny space pinched between them. “You do realize that this far on a map is, in reality, many, many miles? Absolute hours of travel by carriage.”
“Since when do we weigh a man’s eligibility for marriage by miles or hours in a carriage?
None of you behaved this way when you were considering your husbands.
Do stop circling like carrion birds.” Merry angled around her siblings and took refuge in the parlor to keep from being cornered in the hallway.
“And he is coming to London for the Season,” she said, as they gathered around her.
“He is certain to be elected to one of the Scottish seats in the House of Lords. If he does well, I cannot imagine his not retaining that seat for additional sessions.”
Serendipity plopped down beside her on the settee. The other five drew in close, perching on chairs and footstools.
“Chance gave him his blessing,” Serendipity said. “He told me.”
A heady mixture of excitement and dread made Merry catch her breath. “Did Duncan ask for Chance’s blessing?”
“The way Chance told it,” Joy said, “our meddling brother volunteered it because he felt you approved of Lord Kirkston.”
“A rarity for you,” Grace said. “You’ve eluded suitors longer than the rest of us by either hiding in the nursery or simply telling them to go away.”
Merry couldn’t very well argue with that, so she remained silent.
“I have heard no unsavory rumors about the man,” Fortuity said. “Have you, Seri?”
“None.” Serendipity reached over and gave Merry’s hand a reassuring pat. “And while he appears a bit on the somber side, he does seem very protective of our dear sister. After all, he did save our lives.”
“Mightn’t it be wise for you to keep your options open?
” Grace clicked her fingers for the nearest hound to join her on the other settee.
“With the new Season upon us, and his admitting to rarely visiting London, we should observe how well he adapts to the pressures of the ton. You know how unpleasant their nefarious ways can be.”
“He is not a stray dog being taught to heel, Gracie.” While Merry didn’t mind being the center of her sisters’ attention, she didn’t want them joining forces to pick apart Duncan’s behavior. “I like Duncan. Leave him alone.”
“She likes him.” Serendipity swept a pointed look across her sisters. “We shall leave her be. Agreed, sisters?”
Walters appeared in the doorway, slightly weaving back and forth as if about to fall asleep where he stood.
Concerned when his silence seemed even more prolonged than usual, Merry hurried over to him. “Walters? Are you all right?” When he didn’t respond, she took hold of his arm to keep him upright and slipped around him into the hallway. “Fipps! Come quickly.”
The younger butler careened around the corner at the end of the hall and hurried to join them. “Forgive me, Lady Merry. He slipped away. Mr. Walters is not himself today. Not himself at all.”
“Have Gerald or George help you get him to his room,” Serendipity said, “and have one of them stay with him.”
“I do not like his coloring.” Merry didn’t want to compare his shade to the grayish tint of death that had overtaken Papa at his life’s end, but she couldn’t keep from it. “We should send for the surgeon.”
“No surgeon,” Walters said, shaking his head so hard that he nearly lost his footing.
“It will be all right, Mr. Walters.” Fipps wrapped his arm around the rail-thin man and gently eased him down the hallway. “It is time to rest.”
“Rest,” Walters repeated, his shuffle painfully slower than normal.
“Find Chance,” Merry told Blessing. “You know he will wish to know.”
With an understanding nod, Blessing darted off in the direction of the library just as Walters collapsed.
Fipps held up a hand to keep them back, then sadly bowed his head and whispered, “He is gone.”
Leaning against the doorframe, Merry crumpled to the floor.
How could Walters be gone? He had always been there for them.
Always taken the very best care of them.
Her heart hurt so badly that tears welled and overflowed, burning down her cheeks.
Walters was family, family who would be sorely missed.
Chance charged out of the library, then slowed as he took in the scene. Haltingly, he moved to Walters’s side and knelt beside the ever-faithful servant. He bowed his head and wept.
One by one, the rest of the household staff appeared in the hallway as if the walls had told them about the sudden loss of one of their own.
“Your Grace.” The housekeeper, Mrs. Flackney, eased a step forward. “If he could be helped to his bed, we will take care of him.”
Chance nodded and whispered, “Of course.”
“Did he have any family?” Merry asked, never remembering a single day without the loyal man seeing over the household. He’d never taken time off.
With a tremulous smile, Mrs. Flackney shook her head. “Only this one, my lady.”
“Then he shall be buried in the family cemetery,” Chance said. “With a fine headstone attesting to the man that he was. He has more than earned it.”
Mrs. Flackney dabbed at her eyes with the corner of her apron. “He would be most grateful for that, Your Grace. Most grateful, indeed.”
Chance rose from the floor, went to Merry, and helped her to her feet. “We will see to it that he is taken care of, just as we did while he lived. I swear it.”
Unable to hold herself back, Merry hugged her brother, who had matured so very much since their parents had died. “You are a good man, Chance,” she said. “Mama and Papa would be so proud—are so very proud. I am sure they are smiling down at you at this very moment.”
“If not for old Walters, I wouldn’t be here.” He hugged her back, turning her so she couldn’t see as Fipps and the footmen gathered Walters up and took him away. “Remember how he saved me from the pond? Didn’t hesitate to jump in and drag my sorry arse out.”
“And you and he fell ill from that terrible dunking. Mama made sure there was enough goose fat and poultices for you both.”
Chance snorted. “Awful stuff. Stank as badly as the scum at the shallow end of the pond.” He coughed and snorted again, then released her with a sad smile. “We will see him properly laid to rest before we leave for London.”
“Laid to rest.” Merry wiped her eyes and struggled for composure. Walters had lived a long life and not been discarded or made to feel unnecessary—at least, not by them. “The good and faithful servant has finally found his well-earned rest.”
Chance and her sisters seemed to agree as they milled about in the hallway, at a loss about what to do now.
She wandered back into the parlor, noting with a sinking feeling that the house felt emptier…
colder now. It would truly be unbearable once her sisters and their families were gone.
She hated the silence where nothing could be heard but the ticking of the clock on the mantel.
It was as though one could hear the years of one’s life slipping away.
Staring out the window at the snowy meadow, she promised herself to fill her own home with so many children that she would never be alone.
Duncan likes to be alone entered her thoughts and made her heart hurt even more.
Malcolm had said so, and poor Duncan had struggled with the chaos of her birthday party.
She chewed on her bottom lip and idly scraped the frost off the window with her fingernail. The two of them were so different. Opposites. But she liked him, liked him a great deal, maybe even loved him if she ever found the courage to admit it to herself.
She pulled in a deep breath and wiped her eyes again. Yes, she loved him. But as different as they were, would they end up hating each other? She couldn’t imagine sharing a life with someone she grew to hate.
“No,” she whispered to the snow. “I could never hate Duncan.”
But the question was, would he someday come to hate her?