A Rumored Engagement Page 8

  She suppressed a snort. Very unlikely. He’d have run away or found some way to disappoint her, for this kind of life—the responsibilities, the duties—was his idea of a nightmare. She trailed her finger along the smooth mahogany table, relishing the satiny feel of the wood. Imagine anyone hating this house. Or this life. Everything at Goodwin spoke of tradition, of safety. She could throw herself into this home and it wouldn’t just catch her—it would support her and nurture her for years to come. Daniel had no idea what he was tossing aside.

  The door to the parlor opened, and Daniel came in. His pallor remained somewhat ashen, and the dark circles beneath his eyes spoke of his all-too-recent illness, but he smiled warmly at them all as he surveyed the room. “How refreshing it is to have three lovely ladies with whom to dine,” he proclaimed with a gallant air, causing Nan and Becky to giggle. “Surely Prince George himself isn’t half as fortunate as I.”

  “Thank you for inviting us,” Becky replied. “Susannah ordered a lovely repast for us. What a treat, to be dining in such a wonderful home.”

  “What did you request, Susannah?” He turned his full attention to her, as though she were the only woman in the world, and her heart skipped a beat.

  Ridiculous nonsense. Daniel had always been a charmer, and at his best when surrounded by ladies. He wasn’t really admiring her. It was just the role he chose to play. “Roast chicken and vegetables. Nothing too fancy. I did want to make sure it was a meal you could stomach after your...illness...this morning.”

  “Thank you.” Frank admiration shone through his gaze. “I declare that your sister can handle any situation with grace and charm,” he informed Nan and Becky.

  The girls murmured kind words of support, and Daniel insisted that only Susannah’s skills as a nurse had kept him alive. Oh, gracious. It was all getting to be too much—too much flattery, too much niceness, too much of being in Daniel’s presence. She must gain control of the situation or risk having her head decidedly turned by his engaging ways—or losing her temper altogether. He didn’t mean any of it seriously, so she must learn to keep matters very much on the surface with him.

  “Yes, well. We thank you for your luncheon invitation. But afterward, we must return home. We missed services this morning and need to have our own prayer meeting.” There. That was a pointed reminder that the whole reason they were here was church—and his insistence from the beginning on conveying them there in his own vehicle.

  “Prayer meeting? That sounds interesting. I should like to join you, if I may,” Daniel replied easily. As though she had invited him to tea, or to a musical recital.

  Wasn’t religion one of the things he had shunned all his life? Why, then, the polite feigned interest?

  “I shouldn’t wish to bore you,” she began, her tone brittle even to her own ears. Her own faith was something she kept close to her heart. Uncle Arthur had been an avowed atheist and mocked her and the girls whenever he caught them praying. And he made sure they’d never attended services at any church while under his care.

  “Nonsense.” He cut her short with a wave of his hand. “’Tis the least I can do, especially after ruining your morning.”

  She opened her mouth to protest but was interrupted by Baxter’s arrival. “Your luncheon is ready, sir.”

  “Excellent. I am famished. Ladies, after you.” With a wave of his hand, Daniel ushered the younger girls out of the room. Then he turned to Susannah, offering her his arm. He said nothing, only gazed at her with an inscrutable expression, the troublemaking glint in his eyes completely extinguished.

  She accepted his arm without a word and allowed him to lead her down the hallway to the dining room. How very odd, this feeling of naturalness at Goodwin Hall. She hadn’t been here since she was a girl, so it was not an ease borne out of familiarity.

  What, then? Why was she so comfortable here? Why had helping Daniel come so easily to her this morning?

  She gave herself a small mental shake. It didn’t matter why, or how. She was in danger of becoming too much like Becky, mooning over every common situation.

  Funny how a little sister could affect one so much. She must be on her guard against such thoughts.

  * * *

  Who knew that luncheon at Goodwin Hall could be such a delicious and convivial affair? Daniel speared the last of the rosemary-rubbed chicken on his plate. The meal that Susannah had ordered was simple and yet sublime, stabilizing his roiling stomach and clearing his pounding head. The notable lack of wine was rather provoking, but one look at Susannah’s stern expression, her eyebrow delicately arched, was enough to dissuade him from asking for the decanter. Dining with the sisters was a warm and joyful experience. No great, earth-shaking conversation was made, and no new philosophies were discovered, but what a change from getting progressively drunker with Paul, or making do with a slice of bread and butter.

  If only he could give something to them. Something to express his thanks for lifting his loneliness. And Susannah deserved a gift just for coming to his rescue this morning.

  Susannah had mentioned having a prayer meeting. And he had tried to help her go to church this morning. Hang convention—she should be able to ride around in his carriage as much as she wanted, especially if all she wanted to do was attend a Sabbath service. He wasn’t much on religion, of course, but if that’s what made Susannah happy...

  Mother’s chapel. That was it. He hadn’t been in the little cottage in ages, and surely it was a bit run-down, but why shouldn’t Susannah have the use of it?

  “Excuse me. I shall return directly.” He nodded briefly to his guests and rushed from the room, colliding with dignified old Baxter in the hallway.

  “Beg pardon, sir,” Baxter huffed. “I did not see you there.”

  “It does not signify, for I was in search of you. Do you know Mother’s old chapel, on the north end of the estate?”

  “Yes.” Baxter knitted his brows. “I recall it, but I do not think anyone has set foot in it for years.”

  “I want you to send a couple of men out to make it ready to show my guests.” Daniel raked his hand through his hair. “After we finish our meal, I wish to take them out to see the chapel.”

  “But, really, sir. The chapel hasn’t been opened in years. I hardly think it will be in fine enough condition for you to show your guests.” Baxter’s tone conveyed the kind of mild annoyance he usually reserved for Daniel’s drunken orders. What was the use of having servants if none of them paid heed to your needs?

  “Yes, yes, I am aware of that. Just have the men open it up and make sure there are no creatures that have taken up permanent residence there. I know it’s no palace. I just want Sus—Miss Siddons to see it.”

  Was that the trace of a grin on Baxter’s normally dour face? “Very good.”

  “Don’t be cheeky,” Daniel muttered as he turned on his heel. One’s servants could be most annoying. He’d never asked for this life. Really, he hadn’t.

  As he entered the dining room, Susannah rose. “If you want to join us for prayers, Daniel, we should probably do so shortly. I never meant to stay so long. And the girls and I have much to prepare for tomorrow.”

  “Yes, Nan and Susannah are going to Miss Glaspell’s house. She’s ordering enough bonnets for a season!” Becky piped up proudly.

  Daniel turned to Susannah. Already her shop was becoming a success, and she’d only opened it for a day. His mouth turned downward in a rueful grin and he shook his head. Yes, Susannah should have been captain of a ship. Why, with her determination and her desire for success, she would drive the French out of their own homeland.

  “Why am I not surprised? Already you are becoming a success. With gentry clientele, you shall go far, and fast.” He held out his hand to Susannah. “Come, there is something I want to show you. All of you,” he hastened to add.

  Susannah stepped
forward, her brows drawn together. “What for?”

  “I promise ’tis no joke,” he assured her. She drew closer but ignored his outstretched hand.

  Perhaps his touch was too personal. He offered his elbow instead. “I haven’t seen this in years,” he admitted. “I’d like to share it with you.”

  He led Susannah and her sisters out of the house and across the lawn. He breathed in deeply. The smell of drying moor-grass and Susannah’s scent of orange blossom created an exhilarating perfume. The rolling pasture was quite lovely, and as they strolled about it, the old dread of responsibility left him. It was pleasing to share this part of his life with someone else. Someone who might appreciate it and care.

  The woods around Goodwin surrounded the Hall in a sort of half-moon shape, and in the clearing, the little chapel stood—a bit run-down with the passing of time, to be sure, but still gleaming like a jewel against the emerald background of trees.

  Beside him, Susannah stopped, gasping. “It’s lovely. I never knew anything like this was here.”

  “My mother had it built,” he explained. “Crich was so far for her to attend services. And when her health began to fail, she wanted still to be able to worship.” Funny, he hadn’t spoken of Mother in years, and as he recalled her last few days—her ebbing health, her weakness, her frailty—he found it difficult to swallow.

  He must pull himself together. He had been nothing but vulnerable all day. Susannah had helped him walk in his own study, for pity’s sake. He must stop this nonsense and be a man. He cleared his throat.

  “I can’t believe it. What a beautiful little chapel.” She pulled away from him and took a step closer. Nan and Becky made twin murmurs of admiration, their hands clasped. “May I go in?”

  “Yes, of course. I had the servants open it up and make things presentable enough.” He brushed past her and stood on the threshold. The windows were so coated in grime that the afternoon sunlight filtered through in grayish-yellow beams, and cobwebs softened the corners of the ceiling. “It needs a great deal of work, though. If you’d like the use of it, I would be happy to have it cleared out for you.”

  “I don’t know,” Susannah murmured. She ran her fingertips over the arched door frame. “Though I should hate for it to simply rot away.”

  “Then it’s settled. When you can’t go to prayer meetings in Crich, the Siddons sisters may have their own prayer meeting here, in Goodwin Chapel. I’ll have my servants start the heavy cleaning tomorrow.” The thought of having a purpose, a goal, filled him with a sense of satisfaction. He had no idea how to run a farm, but he could order his servants to clean this little building.

  “I think it’s beautiful. Thank you, Daniel.” Becky glanced at him over her shoulder, her bonnet dangling by its strings down her back.

  “Yes, thank you, Daniel. Uncle never did let us worship, so this is a relief.” Nan twisted a long lock of hair around her finger as Susannah cast her a sharp, quelling glance.

  So Uncle Arthur had a problem with religion, too? Was there anything that man didn’t ruin? He himself was not particularly religious, but just because he didn’t choose to worship didn’t mean he’d keep others from doing so.

  “I think now is as good a time as any—and certainly the best place—for us to have our little prayer meeting.” Susannah was back in charge, her voice and demeanor changing from wonderment to practicality in the blink of an eye. “Daniel, join us?”

  “I should like to. How does one do it?” He was fearfully ignorant of any matter relating to God, but surely Susannah would lead the way.

  She gave an embarrassed laugh. “Let us join hands.”

  They stood together in the old chapel, hands joined, heads bowed, as Susannah offered her prayer. “Dear Lord, thank You for all You have given us. Words cannot express how grateful we are to You—for friends, for family and for Your bounty.”

  “And for Your grace and Your goodness,” Becky chimed in.

  “And for good food,” Nan supplied. Daniel suppressed a chuckle as Susannah glowered at her younger sister from under her bonnet.

  “And for the kindness and solicitude of a dear friend,” Daniel added. He kept his eyes stubbornly fixed on his boots. ’Twas the only way he could properly thank Susannah, and he’d be hanged if he’d allow her to fix him with one of her baleful glares.

  As they said their amens, Daniel took the opportunity to squeeze Susannah’s hand briefly before he let go.

  He was grateful for her help. If only she would ever allow him to show it.

  Chapter Nine

  The crunch of wheels on the gravel drive outside the shop heralded the arrival of Miss Glaspell’s carriage. She was as good as her word. Susannah flicked a glance at the mantel clock—one o’clock to the second.

  “Nan,” she called up the stairs. “Do hurry. We must go. The carriage has arrived.”

  “I’m coming,” Nan called, her footsteps thumping across the floor, echoing above Susannah’s head.

  “Now, do I have everything?” Susannah combed through her parcels. “Ribbons, lace, sketches. Paper and pencils to take notes and make drawings.” She glanced up as Nan rushed into the room. “Here, you take these.” She piled paper-wrapped packages into Nan’s outstretched arms. “Becky, we are going. Will you be all right here?”

  “Of course I shall.” Becky glanced up from her work with a dreamy smile. “Embroidering my cherry blossoms in reality, while strolling through fields of summer flowers in imagination.”

  Susannah gave an exasperated shake of her head. “As long as you are happy. But do be careful. I worry about leaving you alone.”

  “Don’t be. I am perfectly capable of managing a store without you for a few hours.”

  Susannah hesitated. Becky, at eighteen, was a grown woman in her own right. But so romantic and so dreamy. Surely leaving her alone, in the charge of a business, would be all right for a little while? Unless, of course, a knight rode up on a stately steed to sweep her off her feet...

  Laughter and worry struggled within her, and she had to force herself to walk over to the door. “Very well,” she answered lightly. “We shall return from Miss Glaspell’s as soon as we can.”

  They stepped over the threshold, and the bright sunlight dazzled Susannah’s eyes. She put her hand up to block the sun’s piercing rays. Bother. Half her parcels slid from her grasp, collecting in a pile at her feet. A servant rushed forward to help her, and the footman beckoned both girls to climb in. As he closed the door, Nan lolled against the cushions. “More comfortable than our beds! Oh, to have a carriage this fine,” she murmured.

  Susannah settled in, her back resting comfortably against the squabs. The carriage was quite nice, beautifully appointed with cunning little gold lanterns, and so well-sprung she could hardly feel the bumps as they drove through the village and turned on the main road out across the moors.

  “Susannah, how far is it to Kelwedge Hall?” Nan asked, fingering the lace curtain at the carriage window.

  “Oh, I don’t know. My memories of Tansley are vague, more so than they should be. I suppose the manor houses are a good distance from here. Let us just enjoy the ride, shall we?”

  “I’m a little nervous,” Nan admitted, looking over at Susannah, her bright blue eyes abashed. “Are you?”

  She could pronounce her usual “stuff and nonsense” and give a bracing talk about the need to be brave in the face of new changes, but all the fire was extinguished within her. She was nervous. Terrified, in fact. If this visit went well, then her little shop just might take flight. But if it didn’t, there was no telling how long it would take them to get a solid business going.

  “I’m a little nervous, too,” she admitted, her voice quiet and subdued. “But we must have faith that this is the right path to follow.”

  Nan fell silent for a moment. Nan’s si
lences were different from Becky’s. Becky might be close beside you in person, but her mind would be a hundred miles away. Nan’s silences were little pauses, during which she refreshed herself with new questions or observations. More questions were coming. Susannah could feel it in her bones.

  “Sue—Daniel certainly has a nice home.”

  And there it was. How best to respond? She had no wish to revisit the past—it had no bearing on her present goals. Not now, not when so much was riding on her future.

  “Yes, Goodwin Hall has always been quite nice. A grand old house.” There, noncommittal but pleasant. Perhaps Nan’s curiosity would be satisfied and she could turn her mind toward Miss Glaspell and her bonnets.

  “I was thinking that Daniel seems like such a nice fellow. So funny. And generous, too. Sharing his mother’s chapel with us is a very kind thing to do. He doesn’t have to, you know.” Nan stared out the window as though she found the cows and the sheep dotting the moors quite fascinating, only the curve of her cheek and a waterfall of mahogany-colored curls visible.

  “I agree. Daniel has always been generous.” A surge of her old anger and frustration welled within. “But then, he’s always had so much. It’s easy for him to share. It wouldn’t mean anything to him.”

  “I think this did mean something to him.” Nan turned from the window, her blue eyes shadowed. She looked older than her sixteen years and more like Mama than Susannah had ever noticed before. “The expression on his face when we entered the chapel—well, he looked stunned. As though someone had slapped him. And he stopped joking about.”

  Susannah considered this in silence. What Nan said had a bit of truth to it. She hadn’t spent much time studying Daniel’s face yesterday. Doing so seemed to invite that grin of his, that sly, humorous grin as though they both shared a secret. And watching him when he didn’t see her—well, that was difficult, too. It was hard not to imagine him as the young lad who’d kissed her cheek and told her not to cry—that he would take care of everything—as he tied a string around her finger in lieu of a proper ring.