What a Spinster Wants Page 17

  “Of course,” Edith said at once. “I do not know the way to your rooms, but…”

  Eloise waved a hand at her. “I am not going to lay down, my dear, only take some tea. We will go to the parlor and share a pot together. I want to hear all about you without this brat of a nephew ruining things.”

  “I beg your pardon?” Graham protested mildly.

  “Continue to beg,” Eloise shot back. “When you deserve my pardon, I daresay I shall give it.” She winked at him, then gestured for Edith to lead her away, passing Graham.

  “I like her,” Eloise whispered, patting his arm as she went by him.

  Edith smiled at Graham but said nothing as she and his aunt proceeded through the garden to return to the house.

  How long Graham stood there after they left, he couldn’t say, but he suddenly felt like playing a very long game of billiards.

  There was entirely too much on his mind.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Intrepid voyagers may meet the most valuable allies. They may also find a heap of trouble. The chances are roughly the same.

  -The Spinster Chronicles, 19 December 1817

  Edith forced a smile for what felt like the fourteenth time that morning, and her face was beginning to ache for it.

  How was she so out of practice?

  Her friends had arrived, saving Prue and Charlotte, as well as the other guests, and it was the other ladies among the party who were to blame for the painful smiles. They were, for the most part, ridiculous.

  The Miss Bradfords, Felicity and Diana, were particularly intriguing. Both stood to inherit a great deal of money, had charming enough looks and manners, but had no real designs for matrimony. They were well-educated, well-spoken, and shockingly well-versed in gossip.

  Adaline Chesney wanted nothing more than to be on Lord Radcliffe’s arm at all times, but she would settle for any eligible man in the room. She lacked tact and attempted to cover the flaw with giggles and fluttering lashes. Every other lady, married or not, was competition, and she left no doubt about it.

  Catherine Tillman barely spoke, but Edith could hardly call her shy. She had a gaze that would leave any person unsettled, and her fortune and breeding were impeccable. The only person she spoke with was Mr. Gaither, and she seemed to do so in only low tones. Edith appeared to trouble her somehow, though they had only barely been introduced.

  At the sound of another of Miss Chesney’s grating laughs, Edith quietly rose and turned to Georgie with a slight smile. “I think I will take some air for a moment or two. Will you make my excuses if I am noticed?”

  Georgie returned her smile, knowing full well what Edith was up to. “Of course.”

  Edith nodded her thanks and walked as sedately as she could, although she was desperate to run out to the terrace and down the steps.

  It was a rather pleasant day, a mixture of sun and clouds in the sky, and with a breeze just chilled enough to keep one from feeling too heated. It was a rarity for England, or Scotland, for that matter, and it seemed a shame to remain indoors rather than take part in it. Besides, being alone was such a delight after being forced into social activity all afternoon, evening, and now this morning.

  On occasion, one simply must be alone.

  Edith chose to go around and beyond the walled garden, lovely though it was, and though she had much to explore still within. The landscape and grounds of Merrifield were quite the glorious spectacle from her bedchamber windows, and she wanted to traipse them all before she returned to London.

  Wildflowers dotted the grass and hedges, some places forming natural canopies of wisteria, and even some honeysuckle. Their fragrances filled the air, a heavenly scent only nature could provide, and with a richness that could not be described adequately. Edith slowed her pace, pleased she hadn’t bothered with a bonnet to shade her from the warmth of the sun or the experience itself.

  She closed her eyes, inhaling and exhaling slowly and deeply, a marvelous cleansing sensation filling and refreshing her.

  There was nothing like Merrifield in all the world, and she was convinced of it.

  A sound disturbed the beauty of the moment then, and Edith frowned at hearing it. A rustling came from off to her right, and it was far too vigorous to be a rabbit or bird. Muffled cries of distress soon accompanied it, not to the extent of tears, but certainly involving effort.

  There were no children in the party at Merrifield, so it had to be a local from the village or a servant, though her first inclination was to declare the person younger than any servants she had seen. She moved around the hedge and saw a small, dark-haired girl trying desperately to untangle herself and her yellow frock from a bunch of brambles on the other side. She was so determined that she was ripping a hole in the garment.

  Edith hurried forward. “Here, lass, let me help you.”

  The girl jumped as if she had not known anyone was there, her striking blue eyes widening sharply.

  Edith smiled at her kindly. “It’s all right. I just want to help you out of there. My name is Edith. What is your name?”

  “Molly,” she replied after a moment, still looking at her warily. Then, she rolled her eyes and dipped into a light curtsey among the brambles and thorns. “Lady Molly Hastings, if you please, ma’am.”

  There was nothing to do but grin at her attempt at manners, and Edith responded in kind. “Lady Edith Leveson, at your service, Lady Molly. Now, might I help you?”

  “Yes, please,” she said heavily, forgoing any sort of nerves or shyness. “I’m making a mess of my dress.”

  “Yes, well, that can happen,” Edith conceded as she worked to disentangle the girl. “Particularly with brambles. What were you doing?”

  Molly wrinkled her nose up and pushed some of her dark hair out of her face. “I was so bored and so hungry, I thought I could sneak out and get some berries before anybody discovered I was gone.” She frowned and shook her head. “I got stuck picking some of the berries up high.”

  Edith gave the girl a bemused look, though it likely should have been more disapproving, as she helped her step out of the bushes. “You snuck out of your house? I can understand the desire to on such a day as this, but I’m afraid, my dear Lady Molly, sneaking just isna done.”

  “I know,” she admitted with a sigh too heavy for a child, “and you can call me Molly. I don’t like being called ‘lady’. I much prefer to be a child.” She sighed again and shuffled her feet. “Gray is always telling me to behave like a lady, and I try. But I was so bored…”

  It was said with such longing, Edith had to smile. The memory of childhood was faint, but the same enthusiasm and liveliness was still clear as the day itself.

  “That can happen, I fear. How old are you, Molly? If ye dinna mind me asking.”

  “Almost seven,” she said proudly, “but I am very smart for my age.”

  “Aye, I can see that,” Edith murmured, pulling some small leaves and twigs from her curly locks. They had no doubt looked pretty enough before, but with her running around, they now looked an untidy mess.

  It suited her well, though no doubt her parents wouldn’t agree.

  Then, her name echoed in Edith’s mind again, and her eyes widened. “Did ye say your name was Lady Molly Hastings?”

  Molly gave her a disparaging look. “Yes, Edith, I did.” Then she looked down at her dress, and her expression paled considerably. “Oh, no. My dress! There is a hole in my dress. Oh, I am going to be in so much trouble.” She put her hands over her face and whimpered with what seemed to be real distress, more so than even when she had been stuck.

  “It isna so bad, Molly,” Edith told her as she looked at it. The hole was hardly gaping, though it was rather front and center. Noticeable, yes, but hardly disastrous.

  Again, Molly favored Edith with a look, one that would have terrified anyone of her age. “You don’t know Gray.”

  “That bad?” Edith asked, thinking she had a fair idea of who Gray might be, but fearing to inquire.

&
nbsp; “Worse,” the girl moaned dramatically.

  “Well,” Edith said, biting back a smile, “then I suppose there is just one thing to be done.” Keeping her eyes on Molly, she took hold of her own skirts and began to tear the fabric in exactly the same place.

  Molly stared at it, and Edith, with wide eyes.

  “Edith, what did you do?” she breathed.

  Edith shrugged, fighting the desire to laugh wildly.

  “It’s only a dress, Molly. We can mend them.”

  “Do you want to pick some more berries with me?” Molly asked, beaming. “Then, I promise I’ll go straight back home.”

  Edith laughed and agreed, stepping forward to pick a few berries, and eating quite a few of them as she went.

  Wild blackberries had never been part of Edith’s childhood experience, but they added perfectly to her present circumstances. Molly talked her through the process of finding perfect ones, and her knowledge of it all was really quite impressive, considering her age.

  When they had finished, Edith took Molly’s hand. “Come on, lass. Let’s get ourselves back to Merrifield. I’ll walk with ye at least part of the way.”

  “I like your accent, Edith,” Molly told her with a smile as she took her hand and began to skip. “It’s fun. It sounds like dancing.”

  “I have never heard it described that way,” Edith replied, “but it may be my favorite description yet.”

  Molly giggled, then looked at the path ahead of them, her expression falling at once.

  Edith looked as well and swallowed.

  Lord Radcliffe was storming towards them, his expression tight, his gaze fixed on the small girl next to her.

  “Oh, dear,” Molly sighed, tucking some hair behind her ear. “Gray.”

  Crivvens. Edith looked down at her. “He looks upset.”

  She nodded and scooted a little closer to her. “He’s my uncle.”

  Edith looked heavenward, afraid this was not going to go well at all. Eloise might have given her the freedom to go where she wished, but that likely had not extended to interacting with Molly. There had to be a reason why her existence was so little known. If Lord Radcliffe were the overbearing, overprotective guardian she imagined, he would not take kindly to this particular introduction.

  Was Edith going to unearth all the secrets of Merrifield? Or simply the ones Lord Radcliffe felt particular about?

  But there was nothing for it.

  “Where have you been?” Lord Radcliffe asked when he was close enough. “I have been looking everywhere for you!”

  Molly looked appropriately apologetic. “I’m sorry, Gray.”

  He sighed and folded his arms, his eyes still fixed on her with the same intensity he used with everyone. “Answer the question, please.”

  “I was picking berries,” Molly replied obediently, “and eating them.”

  Edith clamped down on her lips to keep from giggling at the girl’s openness and honesty.

  Lord Radcliffe’s gaze flicked to Edith’s without emotion, then back to his niece. “And?” he prodded.

  Molly sighed heavily. “And I didn’t tell Nanny Florence where I was going, and as punishment, I got stuck in the bush.” She scowled and shuffled her feet again. “If I were taller, or able to wear breeches, this wouldn’t be a problem.”

  Edith had to close her eyes for a moment, ready to lose all composure.

  “And you, Lady Edith?” Lord Radcliffe asked, sounding nearly as severe, though a good deal more amused.

  Edith’s eyes popped open, and she looked at him as innocently as possible. “Yes, my lord?”

  His lips quirked. “What part do you play here?”

  “None, my lord,” she replied. “I was walking the grounds, found her in distress, and freed her from it.” She let herself smile ruefully and tilted her head rather as Molly did. “And then I ate some berries, as well.”

  He stared at Edith for a long moment, his mouth tightening as if he were not sure if he were angry or amused. Then, he looked back down at Molly.

  “I don’t know what to do with you,” he sighed, unfolding his arms and setting his hands at his waist. “I am supposed to be hosting this nonsense, but instead, I’m out here hunting for you.”

  Molly started to pout a little, looking down at her stained slippers, shifting uncomfortably where she stood.

  Edith felt for the girl and put a hand on her back.

  “If I may, my lord,” she murmured as gently as she could.

  Lord Radcliffe looked at Edith again, one brow raised in silent query.

  “I suggest that you return to your guests and host as you must,” Edith proposed, “and I will return the child home. I’ll sneak her back in before anyone can see anything.”

  He snorted softly and gave her a bemused look. “You don’t know how to sneak through my house.”

  “No,” she said simply. Then she indicated his niece beside her. “But she does.”

  He looked down at Molly, his face softening, then back at the house with a bit of reluctance. “Point taken.” He hesitated, then exhaled roughly. “All right,” he finally agreed, turning back to look at Molly, “but we will discuss this later, young lady.”

  Molly took Edith’s hand. “That means I’m in trouble,” she whispered loudly.

  Edith bit back a grin and looked at her uncle. “Does it?”

  He looked at her quickly, then back at Molly, his brow furrowing.

  “Edith will protect me, Gray,” Molly said staunchly.

  “Will she now?” he asked, again looking at Edith.

  There was something in his gaze now that caused the strangest tingling in Edith’s toes, and a slow burning began in her cheeks.

  “Yes,” Molly insisted with a nod. “She’s my friend.”

  Lord Radcliffe smiled at the girl before raising a brow. “And does your friend think sneaking out of the house is a good idea?”

  Molly looked up at Edith, and Edith gave her a knowing look in return. Then she pouted. “No, and she said as much when she found me.”

  Edith squeezed her hand and winked at her, then looked up to find Lord Radcliffe watching her with interest. “She did, did she? Seems to me you were lucky to have Edith be the one to find you, Molly.”

  “I think so, too, Gray,” Molly told her uncle with sageness beyond her years.

  Lord Radcliffe chuckled, the deep sound giving Edith a falling sensation. He ruffled his niece’s hair, stroked her cheek, and said, “All right, back to the house. I’ll come see you later.”

  “Yes, Gray,” she said, smiling despite her previous attempts to pout.

  He looked at Edith once more, and she could see gratitude expressed in his eyes.

  She smiled in return and nodded once.

  His smile lingered, something he saw clearly amusing him, then he turned back for the house.

  “Whew,” Molly exhaled heavily, and with some relief. “That could have been so much worse. Come on!”

  With a tug on Edith’s hand, Molly resumed her skipping towards the house, and Edith, not to be outdone, joined in, though skipping had never been one of her more accomplished talents.

  Molly surprised her by taking a small door just off the kitchens to reenter the house, pulling Edith past the pantry without disturbing the kitchen staff in the slightest. They moved down a long, narrow corridor, surprisingly well lit, and then up a particularly narrow set of stairs.

  Edith stumbled once on the hem of her skirt, snorting a laugh to herself at the thought of tearing another hole in her gown, this time unintentionally.

  It would be only too perfect a picture for Lady Edith Leveson, who sought connection and protection at this very house party she was at present avoiding.

  Her intrepid guide opened a door that Edith would have completely passed, letting them both into the gallery. The walls were filled nearly from floor to ceiling with grand portraits and sweeping landscapes depicting soldiers in battle and fine horses running wild on the land.

  “
Heavenly days,” Edith breathed, looking around at them all.

  Molly, however, was far less impressed. “Come on, Edith! We’re nearly there!”

  Edith found herself tugged along again, moving down one corridor, then another, then somehow still another before ultimately reaching a quaint, comfortable nursery.

  Molly finally released her hand as they entered the room, twirling a little in the center of the space. “Gray says I can change the furnishings for my next birthday! I want everything to be blue. No, green.” She frowned, her lips twisting. “Blue and green, perhaps. And gold. Things that sparkle, too.”

  “Sounds marvelous, lass.” Edith smiled at the child, still so full of energy. “Now, let us change your frock before your nanny or a maid sees you. That way, it will be our secret.”

  Quickly, they switched her gown to a checkered green with a simple pinafore over the top.

  “There, Lady Molly,” Edith praised with a teasing wink. “Much more presentable, and none the wiser.”

  Molly curtseyed. “Thank you, Lady Edith.”

  “I must change my own frock, lassie,” Edith sighed, “and return to your uncle’s party.”

  “Oh, must you?” Molly pouted without shame. “I never get to go to parties. Gray has never had one, either.”

  Edith smiled sadly. “I am sure ye have lessons to attend to, and I have tasks myself. I dinna much care for parties, but it is the polite thing to do, and so I must.” She made a face to indicate how she truly felt about it.

  The girl giggled at the expression. “Could you come and see me later? After I’ve finished my lessons?”

  “Ye’ll have to ask your uncle, Molly, lass,” Edith told her. “But if he agrees, I would be delighted to.”

  Molly grinned at her and nodded. “I’ll ask him! I’ll ask him as soon as he comes! Thank you, Edith!” She dashed over and hugged Edith tightly around the waist.

  Suddenly awash in emotion, Edith patted the girl’s back, swallowing with difficulty. “There’s a good lass. Now fetch a book and sit yourself by the window for Nanny. I daresay she’ll come ’round soon enough and be surprised to find ye here.”