Chapter Ten
The kitchen of Low Fell Farm was redolent with the sweet smell of blackberries as Mrs. Ewbanks strained the jam she was making through a muslin cloth.
Gwendolyn felt an odd sense of pride and accomplishment that she had contributed to the delicious jam that would be spread on breakfast rolls and scones.
When Gwendolyn had arrived home with her basket full of the sweet juicy fruit, Mrs. Ewbanks had been hard pressed to rescue enough for her jam when the children had grabbed the basket and began devouring the fruit.
They had previously been rather in awe of the beautiful and aloof Gwendolyn but when she had arrived with their beloved Lord Monty and a basketful of berries, they had clambered all over her.
By bedtime, Gwendolyn was firmly entrenched in the family and Gracie had shyly asked her to tie the ribbons in her hair.
She had gone blackberrying again with Mariana and the two elder Ewbanks girls and they had also foraged for the hazelnuts and walnuts Autumn generously produced in its abundant harvest.
Gwendolyn placed a long piece of fern at one side of the flowers she was arranging and stepped back to admire the effect. “There, that will do well, I think. These yellow chrysanthemums will look very cheerful in the corner of the staircase.”
Mariana turned from the lilies and roses she was arranging in a large blue and white vase.
“They do look pretty. Flowers seem to grow more lusciously here than in the garden in London.” The girls didn’t often mention London or the reason they were here in the north of England, except when they received a letter from Freya or Lady Maynard.
Gwendolyn carried her arrangement to the hallway and Mariana turned back to hers.
Gwendolyn returned and watched her cousin complete the arrangement of pink, blue, and white flowers on the table near the window.
A movement outside caught her attention.
“Oh, I wonder who’s coming to visit. I do hope it isn’t someone who would be offended to see me.
I hate having to hide upstairs when the vicar and his wife call. ”
Mariana placed her last rose in the vase and gave Gwendolyn a hug. She said nothing. There was nothing that could be said.
Mrs. Ewbanks entered the living room, wiping flour off her hands.
“You girls do know how to arrange flowers well.” She also noticed the rider arriving and unfastened her apron.
“I wonder what Lord Montgomery needs. He doesn’t usually visit here above once a month or six weeks unless there is a problem. ”
The farmer’s wife eyed Gwendolyn as the girl’s cheeks turned red but Roland Montgomery was knocking at the door and she went to let him in.
He greeted Gwendolyn and Mariana with a neat bow.
“Good afternoon, ladies.” He held out a letter.
“Mrs. Broadhurst at the post office thought this must be for me because it comes from the house of Lord Maynard, the Earl of Trafford. He and I are not in the habit of corresponding and I know that you two are friends with his daughter.” He turned the letter over and grinned.
“It does very clearly say, Low Fell Farm, but Mrs. Broadhurst is very conventional and cannot conceive of a letter from an earl being sent to a farmer, even a prosperous one.”
Gwendolyn took the letter with a shyly murmured thank you. Mrs. Ewbanks, more flustered than Gwendolyn had ever seen her, gestured to a chair. “Would you care to take a seat, my lord? I am sure it wasn’t necessary for you to bring the letter here yourself. One of the footmen could have done so.”
Lord Montgomery smiled. “I could have sent a footman, but then I would have missed out on paying you a visit.” As he spoke, his eyes swept towards Gwendolyn, making his intention clear to any observant onlooker.
He remained standing, however, and Mrs. Ewbanks plumped a cushion on the nearest comfortable chair.
“Ladies,” Roland said, “where were you sitting?”
Responding to his hint, but also wanting to ensure that she would not be sitting too close to the baron, Gwendolyn sat down at the far end of the smaller sofa. Mariana sat beside her, and Mrs. Ewbanks said something about making a pot of tea.
“You are looking well, both of you,” Lord Montgomery said. “Being here in the wide open spaces and fresh air is a balm to one’s soul.”
“I do like it here,” agreed Mariana when Gwendolyn remained silent.
She was a bit confused at Gwendolyn’s taciturnity.
She was usually the one who took the lead in any conversation but she was more tense than Mariana had ever known her to be.
The letter Lord Montgomery had used as an excuse to pay them a visit was clenched so tightly in her hands that it was in danger of being crumpled to a state of illegibility.
“I wonder what Freya has written about. I do enjoy her letters and she’s the only one of our little group who has written to us since we left London,” Mariana said, not sure if her words would alleviate or add to the tension Gwendolyn was feeling.
“Why don’t you open it?” prompted Lord Montgomery. “I won’t mind if you read it now.”
Gwendolyn turned the letter over and carefully slid her finger under the seal. She unfolded the letter and smoothed it with her fingers, unaware of how Roland was hungrily watching the movements.
Dear Gwendolyn and Mariana, Gwendolyn began reading. Conscious that Lord Montgomery’s eyes were on her and not wishing to do anything that might earn his censure, the words stuck a little in her throat and she had to begin again.
Dear Gwendolyn and Mariana,
We finally left London last Tuesday, and I can’t say I was sad to leave.
Popsy has been missing me, and I was very excited to see that she has had puppies while we were away from home.
There are six babies, and they are so delightfully playful.
Two are black, three are golden like her and the last one is both black and white.
This morning, one of the golden puppies decided to climb out of the box but she got caught in the edge of a blanket and was all tangled up.
It took ages to get her out because I was laughing so much.
Gwendolyn paused and looked at Mariana, her own face lit up with laughter. “That’s just like Freya, giving all the news about her dogs before she mentions any people.” She continued reading.
Mama sends her best love and is glad that you are both doing well. She has written to Mrs. Ewbanks about a doctor and a midwife she recommends for when the time for the baby comes.
Gwendolyn squirmed and bit her lip, studiously avoiding looking at Lord Montgomery. If she had looked at him, she would have been startled to see the compassion in his eyes and the softness of his expression. Mariana eased the letter out of Gwendolyn’s hand and carried on reading.
London was dreadfully dull for the last few weeks.
Isadore sailed on the sixteenth of August. I miss her very much.
Although we all only met at the beginning of the Season, we became so well acquainted that I feel quite abandoned and desolate, with you in the north and Isadore on her way to Africa.
Mrs. Blythe has taken Grace and Bonnie to Dorset.
The doctor recommends sea air for all of them.
Gwendolyn stiffened and a half-sob caught in her throat.
Mariana cast the letter aside and slipped her arm around her cousin’s shoulders.
Conscious of the baron and of Mrs. Ewbanks, who had returned with a tea tray just as Mariana read the last paragraph, Gwendolyn fought to bring her emotions under control.
Roland wasn’t aware that he had stood up and crossed the room until he leaned over Gwendolyn, taking one of her hands in his. It felt so right there, fitting perfectly into his, that for a moment, he simply held it, almost forgetting why he was acting in a way so out of character.
“Miss Burroughs, you are not well. Let me fetch a glass of wine for you.”
Gwendolyn looked up at him with a watery smile, her eyes slightly red-rimmed and her face flushed. Her cheeks were wet with the silent tears that had fallen while Mariana was reading the letter. “Thank you, I am well, only upset by how my actions have ruined the lives of so many people.”
“A cup of tea will do her far more good than wine or spirits,” Mrs. Ewbanks said as she carried a large wooden tea tray across the room.
Roland reluctantly let go of Gwendolyn’s hand and nodded. “You are right, of course. Tea is a great panacea.” He walked across the room. “Here, let me help you with that. It is heavy.”
Mrs. Ewbanks half-scoffed, half-demurred like a schoolgirl being offered a dance at her first assembly.
“Nonsense, my lord. I’m used to carrying much heavier things than this.
” She placed the tray on the big round table at the side of the room.
“Mr. Ewbanks will be joining us in a minute. He is just changing his shoes and washing his hands.”
Before her sentence was complete the burly farmer entered. “Lord Montgomery, how good of you to call.” The gentlemen seated themselves and Mrs. Ewbanks, assisted by Mariana, served the tea and seed cake.
Gwendolyn took her cup of tea and added two spoons of sugar but refused a slice of the cake. Her stomach was in knots and she felt slightly ill, although the constant nausea of the early months of her pregnancy had long passed.
“My steward, Mr. Grafton, is pleased with the yield of wheat this year. The quality is excellent, too,” Lord Montgomery said.
“Oh, aye,” agreed the farmer. “Crop rotation makes the soil healthier and these new machines make the work more efficient, giving a larger crop and healthier harvest.”
“I hope other farmers on the estate and in the area in general will be motivated to implement up-to-date methods over the next few years. It will bring prosperity to the whole district.”