Chapter 8 #2
The street felt cooler after the crowded shop. William guided them toward the carriage, and they took their places just as before. The horses started forward, and the village slipped behind them.
The ride back was quiet at first. Mrs. Shaw rested her hands in her lap, the remedy safe with the maid. William kept his eyes on the road ahead.
After a moment, he spoke. “I had forgotten how crowded that shop becomes. I very rarely go, but the last time I went in, the shelves were being rearranged. I reached for a jar and nearly knocked over an entire row.”
Mrs. Shaw looked over at him. “Did you?”
“Yes. The clerk caught it before it fell. He did not say anything, but he looked at me as if I had nearly ruined his whole afternoon.”
A small, quiet chuckle escaped her. “I imagine he did.”
“He moved the jars himself after that,” William said. “I have not stepped inside since.”
Mrs. Shaw nodded once, her expression gentler than before. “It is a very narrow room.”
“It is,” William said.
The carriage continued along the lane. Mrs. Shaw glanced out the window, then back toward William.
“Lady Vane will be relieved,” she said. “She dislikes waiting when she is unwell.”
“She will have what she needs,” William replied.
For a time, they rode in comfortable silence, the carriage moving steadily along the lane. When William glanced over, he noticed a small smile she had not seemed aware of.
“Mrs. Shaw,” he said, “you look as though something has amused you.”
She straightened slightly, still smiling. Your story about the apothecary reminded me of something similar from years ago.”
William’s curiosity made him smile. “May I hear it?”
Mrs. Shaw nodded. “I was sixteen, and I had gone to the grocer for a small tin of lavender salve. I reached for it too quickly, and my sleeve caught a stack of little jars of sugar. They toppled everywhere. The grocer was kind about it, but I was mortified. I remember kneeling on the floor, trying to gather them while apologizing over and over.”
William looked at her fully then, taken in by the animated way she told the story, and the way her eyes twinkled at the memory.
“I can imagine it,” he said quietly. “You must have been determined to set everything right.”
She laughed softly. “I was. And now to this day I still avoid reaching for anything too quickly.”
William chuckled, and the rest of the ride passed in easy silence, neither strained nor formal.
The carriage turned into the drive, and the house came into view. Once they arrived, William stepped down first and offered his hand. Mrs. Shaw accepted it, her fingers closing around his as she descended. The maid followed with the remedy box held carefully in her hands.
They walked toward the entrance together. The gravel was dry, and the gray sky held without breaking.
Mrs. Shaw glanced upward. “I thought it would start before we returned.”
“So did I,” William said. “We were fortunate.”
“It will come soon,” she said.
Their steps matched easily as they crossed the last stretch of gravel. Mrs. Shaw adjusted her shawl, and William held the door for her. She thanked him quietly, and they stepped inside.
Mrs. Shaw looked toward the corridor, ready to bring the remedy to Lady Vane. Before William could speak, Henry came running down the corridor.
“Papa,” he said, stopping just short of him. Clara followed, holding a small sheet of paper with careful strokes of paint across it.
Clara looked up at her mother. “I made this while you were gone.”
Mrs. Shaw smiled. “May I see it?”
Clara handed it to her. It was a small garden scene with simple colors and uneven lines. Mrs. Shaw studied it with quiet attention.
“It is lovely,” she said. “You worked very hard.”
Clara nodded. “I did,” she said, seriously. “Lady Spencer said it was very bold.”
Henry frowned. “She said bold means messy.”
Clara looked down at her shoes, a look of disappointment crossing her face.
Mrs. Shaw kept her voice gentle. “It shows imagination. That matters.”
William glanced toward the drawing room, surprised to hear Lady Spencer’s voice. He had not expected her to still be in the house.
Henry noticed his look. “She said she had to stay with me until you came back.”
William’s posture shifted. “Did she?”
Henry nodded.
A movement near the doorway drew William’s attention. Lady Spencer stepped into view, her hands clasped neatly. Her eyes moved from William to Mrs. Shaw, then to the children. No one spoke, but the change in the room was immediate.
William gave a short nod. “Aunt.”
“William,” she said. “I trust your errand was completed.”
“It was,” he said.
She looked briefly at Clara’s painting, then at Mrs. Shaw, then back at William. The silence held.
William turned to Henry. “We are leaving for Roxburghe.”
Henry straightened. “Now?”
“Yes.”
He looked to Clara. “Thank you for showing me your painting.”
Clara nodded.
He lifted his head to Mrs. Shaw. “Good afternoon.”
She returned the gesture softly.
He gave Lady Vane a brief acknowledgment as she appeared at the end of the corridor, then turned to Lady Spencer. “Aunt.”
Lady Vane lifted her chin. “Safe travels.”
William placed a hand on Henry’s shoulder and guided him toward the door, ending the moment before anything further could form.