Chapter 8
Disembarking from the carriage, Victoria couldn’t help but feel that Elias was somehow in the lead, and it was her duty to get back on top again.
“Do you spend much time in church?” she asked him, out of her mother’s earshot.
“I spend my time as I please,” he replied. A smile spread across his lips. “And the church does not please me. Though I am sure it will occupy much of your time. Those sewing circle women can be quite beastly about membership to their little club.”
Victoria’s nostrils flared in annoyance. “Perhaps I can offer to host some of the meetings at Edenbridge Hall? Wouldn’t it be lovely to have all the women over to the house? Surely, your uncle will insist that I invite them to dinner regularly.”
Elias faltered, wondering if Cook would let him eat in the kitchen… “It wouldn’t bother me,” he answered just to needle Victoria. “I spend so little time inside. My preference is for exploring the woods.”
“I’m sure you think you own them…” Victoria muttered.
“Where shall we visit first?” Charlotte sang. “The flower market? The church? Are either of you hungry? Elias, where do you dine in Winstonshire?”
The two women looked up at him. Charlotte, with honest delight, and Victoria, with an air of challenge. He responded to the latter. “I say we go straight to the church. Nothing will bring greater joy to my day than committing Miss Victoria to Winstonshire’s Sewing Circle.”
He offered her his arm, and she whispered, “I’d rather be committed to the asylum in Ashford.”
“If only all our hopes and dreams could come true,” Elias shot back.
All the while, Charlotte was oblivious to their contention. She was looking up and down the road, happily taking in the sights. “What a lovely village this is! Is the weather always so temperate?”
“Very often it is, but we do have powerful rainstorms at times.”
Charlotte made a cry of disgust, and a shiver ran down her. “I hate rainstorms. I can’t stand the thought of them since my George was lost.”
Elias gave her an inquiring look, though probing into people’s business was not his nature.
“My late husband, Victoria’s father, was lost at sea three years ago. There was a terrible storm,” she said in explanation. “Victoria was there. Every time it rains, I think of the misery of that day. By the grace of the gods, my girl was protected. It makes me ill to think of how easily I could have lost them both.” She shivered again. “At least she is on solid ground,” Charlotte said to herself, as if confirming her daughter’s safety.
As they passed the villagers of Winstonshire, Elias was hardly aware of the stares he received. His thoughts were on Victoria. What a strange upbringing for a lady of means. Raised by sailors and witness to her father’s demise… He had to wonder about that. The storm must have been a bad one. And where was Victoria? He couldn’t imagine her cowering in a cabin beneath the deck. So, instead, he pictured her in the driving rain, waves of chaos surrounding her, and no one to fight but the Gods themselves. How she must have hated that. How she must have raged.
In him, there flickered a spark of kinship, but he was drawn from his thoughts by two women coming out of the bakery. Their eyes went first to Elias—and they filled with something between fear and disgust. This was why Elias hated coming to the village. His imposing size, his scars, his ugliness. People would gape. They would cross the street to avoid him. Children would cry. Elias wasn’t like other men—a fact that he knew full well, and the townspeople wouldn’t let him forget.
Charlotte cleared her throat, pulling the attention of the ladies. They softened upon seeing her, a woman of beauty and class.
“Hello there,” the ladies chimed.
“Charlotte and Victoria Fairfax, allow me to introduce Miss Lydia Pritchard and Miss Agnes Pembroke. They are members of the sewing circle I was telling you about,” Elias offered. His tone was flat, and his eyes went to the street. Anything would be more interesting to him than these terrible women.
“What fantastic luck!” Charlotte said cheerfully, taking their hands. “We were en route to the church to inquire about the sewing circle now!”
“That is luck, indeed,” Lydia replied with calculated warmth. She was a tall, gaunt woman with a long face and mouse-brown hair. Agnes was distinctly shorter than her friend and had her blonde locks styled in an overly complicated coif. It was her attempt at sophistication, but there was something difficult to define about the styling that missed its intended mark. Their dresses were modest, worn high around the neck, but they were as elegant as a village seamstress could manage. Still, they paled in comparison to Charlotte’s slightly dated attire. Even though the older woman’s dresses weren’t of the current season, they were from the capital—making her seem exotic and regal as she stood across from Lydia and Agnes. While comparing these country women in style to Charlotte was hardly fair, comparing them to Victoria was cruel. Nor would it be fair to compare the young ladies in beauty, Elias noticed.
Victoria stood out amongst them all. Her clothes were the pinnacle of fashion—current, expensive, and luxuriously elegant. The village women’s eyes raked over her hungrily, and the look in them seemed to beg, who are these impressive strangers, and why are they walking with Elias of all people?
“How might the church’s sewing circle be of service to you, Mrs. Fairfax?” Lydia inquired in an overly warm tone. She leaned toward them, desperate for information.
“My daughter and I are new to Winstonshire.”
“They are in residence at Edenbridge Hall,” Elias told them.
Agnes and Lydia shared a look of surprise. “How exciting!”
“It is very exciting, indeed!” Charlotte’s charming voice seemed to sing. “I have to make a trip back to the capital before we settle in, and I loathe the idea of leaving my daughter without female companionship.”
Their eager eyes shot to Victoria, who wanted nothing more than to disappear behind Elias’s muscular frame. However, she stood her ground.
“Yes, I understand that sentiment very well. Are we to assume that you and your daughter will be settling in for long?” Agnes asked.
Charlotte smiled, deflecting the question. The engagement had yet to be announced formally. “Wouldn’t it be lovely! This is the most enchanting countryside, and I spent much time here in my girlhood. You simply can’t comprehend the joy it brings me to have my Victoria experiencing such a place—a place that I have always considered my home.”
The women approved of such a glowing review of their hamlet. “Well!” Their smiles beamed. “We would be delighted to welcome you both to Winstonshire and into our sewing circle. If there is anything we can do?—”
“Oh, Miss Victoria, you will be so popular among the ladies!” Agnes exclaimed. “We don’t get many visitors from the capital. Everyone will be dying to learn more about you.”
Victoria inwardly cringed.
Charlotte clasped her hands. “I’ve got a lovely idea! Why don’t you two come to tea tomorrow afternoon?”
“At Edenbridge Hall?” They were amazed at their luck. The ladies’ jaws dropped.
“Yes,” Charlotte confirmed. “I will be leaving early for the capital, and it would settle my nerves to know that someone was coming to check in on my darling daughter.”
“We would be delighted!”
“Honored!” Agnes added breathily.
“And thenyou ladies can share in some of that popularity.”
Their eyes widened, and they leaned in, wondering how they might acquire such a desired social position.
“As everybody knows,” Charlotte explained, “the burden of spreading news is great.” Then, lowering her voice, “And Victoria has some very exciting news to share…if you would be so willing to assist.”
Agnes and Lydia gaped.
“It would indeed be our honor to be trusted so!” the taller of the two stammered, and Agnes bobbed her head so vigorously that one of her elaborate curls came loose and slapped her in the face.
Victoria thought the offer of such juicy gossip might be too much for the ladies; they seemed ready to swoon.
Elias found himself filled with remorse. Lydia Pritchard and Agnes Pembroke were soon-to-be guests at Edenbridge Hall. Had it been worth it to force the company of these women on Victoria? Now, they would be in his home, sniffing around for gossip. He could hardly stand the thought of it. Still, he reasoned, it would be Victoria’s burden and not his own…and it would keep her from the woods.
“It is all settled then,” Charlotte said, resting her hand on her heart. “I am at ease. I can travel with the comfort of knowing that my daughter is in the presence of friends.”
Lydia’s eyes shot accusingly to Elias, and she gave a sharp nod as if catching some hidden meaning in Charlotte’s words. “Your daughter will be safe,” she asserted. “We will watch over her.” Lydia held her chin high as if ready to rebut a claim to the contrary.
“Indeed we will,” Agnes confirmed. She, too, shot a look of warning to Elias.
What in the world did these women have against Elias, she wondered. Victoria bit back a smile. Perhaps she might find some fun in the company of Lydia and Agnes, if only to bother Elias. Thus far, he was the only thing about her new life that gave her any sort of pleasure—even if that pleasure was of a malicious nature. Something about the man…she did like to see him ruffled.
“Now,” Charlotte went on. “Perhaps you could assist me further. I am in the market for flowers. Would you be able to direct me to someone who might be able to fill a very large order? I know I have Elias here, but women really understand what one is looking for in terms of floral arrangements, don’t you think?”
Their cheeks flushed. “Allow us, Mrs. Fairfax,” they said, practically tripping one another to take up her arms in theirs. Promptly, they began to pull Charlotte in the opposite direction.
“Will this be for some special event or occasion?” Lydia pressed.
“Victoria, Elias, are you coming?” Charlotte paused to address them.
“I see a shop that has caught my eye, Mother. Elias and I will be with you shortly.”
“Have fun!” she called and immediately gave in to the fawning of Lydia and Agnes.
Victoria’s eyes went serenely to Elias. “Well played, sir.”
“There is no game between us.”
“Isn’t there?”
“No, there is not,” he answered firmly.
Victoria began to pull him up the road. “You lie to yourself. I know very well what you were doing there—forcing those awful women upon me. But I will laugh last, Elias. You underestimate my endurance. I can deal with a pair of stupid women for an afternoon, for an evening, for a dinner…but can you?”
“I might have to make myself scarce when you are enjoying their company.”
“You will have to come home to eat sometime, and when you do, my dearest friends Lydia and Agnes will be there waiting.”
Elias grimaced.
“Come on, you will have to tell me why they don’t like you,” Victoria said, leading Elias to the tavern”s door.
He came to a halt. “You cannot go in there,” he said.
“What? Why?”
“It is not a place for ladies. There is a café behind the bakery. If you are hungry, I can take you there.”
“I am not hungry. I am thirsty.”
“The café serves wine.”
“I wish for ale.”
He scoffed, and Victoria all but growled.
“I hate this village. I hate this whole damned country. A woman can’t be free. She can’t walk, she can’t drink. What is left?”
“Sewing circles,” Elias supplied.
Now, she did growl.
“You really were raised on a ship then? By sailors?”
“Aye, if you can believe it.”
“I can. It makes sense.”
“What does?”
“Why your manners are so terrible.”
“And yours are so great?” She laughed, but her eyes traveled woefully to the tavern.
“Come one, the café won’t be so bad. I’ve never met a sailor—man or woman—who would deny themselves a fresh, buttery croissant.”
“I do believe I am the first sailor you have ever met.”
“That’s true,” Elias admitted. “Is that what one would call you? Is there not a feminine version of the term sailor.”
“If you ever wish for evidence of your sexism, you can find it in that sentence there.”
Elias laughed. “I am not a sexist. I am unfamiliar is all. Educate me.”
“Gladly, if you are so kind as to educate me on why Miss Lydia and Miss Agnes looked at you with such disdain.”
“Isn’t that obvious?” Elias asked dryly.
“No. Not to me, it isn’t.”
They had paused on the path.
“Look around,” Elias offered.
Victoria obliged. At first, nothing came to her attention. But slowly…
A mother with her baby in arms looked at Elias with trepidation and crossed to the other side of the path. Children gaped openly. Men and women stared but hurriedly looked away when Victoria caught their eyes. There were whispers. Women, young and old, looked at Elias with unabashed scorn.
“They all seem to hate you,” Victoria noticed. “Why? What have you done?”
“I am the richest bachelor for 20 miles,” Elias explained. “And I had the audacity to be ugly.”
Victoria cocked her head, assessing either him or his words. After a moment or two, she laughed.
“That’s it. No croissant for you,” Elias declared. “Let’s find Lydia and Agnes and put your endurance to the test.”
Victoria dug her heels in. “What are you angry about now?” she asked.
“I get enough laughter from these people. I don’t need any more from you?—”
“I am not laughing at you, Elias. I am laughing at the absurdity.”
“The absurdity of my looks?”
She laughed harder now. “You are so vain! I am amazed by it! Why in the world do you care if these people find you attractive or not?”
“That is a very easy question for a woman looking as you do.”
Victoria grinned and leaned in closer to Elias. “And how do I look?”
“You look the way people wish to look. Well-dressed, well-manicured?—”
Victoria looked pointedly at the suit Elias had donned that morning. “Well-dressed, well-manicured…”
“Even without the trappings,” he insisted. “You are…”
“I won’t make you say it. I’m beautiful. My long lashes, my rosy cheeks, my pert little nose.”
“You’re teasing me.”
“Of course I am. Elias, don’t be a fool. There is nothing displeasing about the way you look.” For a moment, he thought Victoria really meant it. Then, a small child of perhaps two or three years pointed up at him and began to cry. His mother scooped him up and hurried away from Elias as quickly as her legs could carry her.
Victoria looked at him. “I suppose there is no accounting for taste.”
“Why in the world would I even discuss this with a woman on the verge of marrying an 86-year-old man? You care more for money than you do looks.”
“Indeed I do,” Victoria said unapologetically. “It is money that will save my mother from poverty. It is money that will return me to the sea. Looks aren’t worth a damn, Elias, but sadly, that is all I have to my name.”
Elias could not fathom how she could be so brazen about her priorities. Indeed, all she cared about was money. She didn’t love Lord Reginald. “I cannot begin to imagine what my uncle sees in you or how you managed to seduce him.”
Victoria laughed again. “Elias, what do you say we go spend some of your rich uncle’s coin on buttery croissants and wine?”
This time, Elias led the way, practically stomping as he strode through the village. “I take you only because I would never deny a woman sustenance, not because I condone your attitude or behavior.”
Victoria had those teasing eyes again. “My mother was right; you are a gentleman.”
Elias’s face was hard. If Victoria only knew how far that was from the truth…