A Heart Revealed (20 page)

“I am not to be your priority any longer,” Amber said with a lump in her throat as Suzanne moved to hang the bonnet on one of the pegs near the door. “I am so sorry you were not there to say good-bye to your mother. If not for me you would have been.”

“I am not holding blame toward you for it,” Suzanne said, smoothing her hair away from her face. “And I have not regretted staying, Miss.”

Amber was surprised to hear it. How could Suzanne
not
regret it? They both had to work so contrary to their inclinations just to have the smallest degree of comfort, and a great deal of their time was centered on the most base and repulsive necessities of self-sufficiency. However, Suzanne’s peace of mind stirred Amber’s awareness of the increasing peace she felt as well. She rarely raged, out loud or in her mind, over the unfairness of her situation or the primitive conditions of the cottage. She no longer pined so strongly for society and fine things. But she had never considered that Suzanne’s feelings may have changed, and she did not entirely trust the possibility as it was exactly what Amber would want to hear.

“I shall never be able to adequately thank you for all you’ve done,” Amber said. “But I renew my sentiment that you should return to your family. You have done more for me than anyone else in my life ever would.” She wiped at her eyes and turned to the fireplace so Suzanne would not see her tears. She turned the pot using the metal hook, embarrassed to have shared such feeling, though a part of her was relieved to be so honest.

“Miss,” Suzanne said softly, causing Amber to turn toward her again. “I have considered all aspects of my circumstance. I have heard tell of the harsh winter we are to expect in this place and had already determined that should Lady Marchent not keep her word regarding her visit, that perhaps God would be telling me I was better suited in the county of Yorkshire than in London.” She gave a small smile. “I shall stay until your future is settled.”

After several seconds of silence, which Amber used to contain her emotions, she cleared her throat. “Thank you,” she whispered.

Suzanne nodded and folded back the sleeves of her dress, preparing to work anew upon the life they had made for themselves.

Amber went about finishing the preparations for dinner. She had saved the eggs from yesterday so as to attempt a Yorkshire pudding. She had tried twice before and failed but hoped tonight would result in success.

After a few minutes had passed, she spoke again. “I wonder if we could have Mr. Dariloo bring someone to move the trunks and things from the other upstairs bedroom and put them in the servant’s quarters. If you shall be staying the winter, you need better accommodation and the upper floors stay quite warm.”

“You would allow me to take the second bedchamber?” Suzanne said, her eyes wide at the prospect.

“I would insist upon it,” Amber said, glad the idea met with Suzanne’s favor and did not make her uncomfortable. “I believe we shall both be in need of every comfort possible these next months. I would be honored if you would take the other room.”

“If that is the case,” Suzanne said, smiling herself, “I would be honored to do so.”

“Thank you for staying with me,” Amber said again, without looking up. The sincerity of her words made her feel both vulnerable and comfortable, as though she’d discovered something new that felt oddly familiar.

Suzanne looked at her for quite some time before Amber looked away, embarrassed though she could not determine exactly why. Suzanne was quiet for a moment before she answered in an equally reverent tone, “You’re very welcome . . . Amber.”

Chapter 20

Thomas had been overseeing the workers in the apple orchards on the east end of what he hoped would soon be his own lands when the rain drove them from the field. Despite feeling frustrated with losing half a day of work, he was pleased with the overall harvest thus far and had talked himself out of a poor mood by the time he reached the back entrance of Peakview Manor, the family estate located nearly equidistant between Northallerton and Romanby where he resided with his brother, Albert, and Albert’s growing family. Since Thomas’s return from London in July he had immersed himself in the management of his land and had never found more contentment in all his days.

Thomas hung his oilskin coat on the hook inside the doorway and then removed his working boots, placing them on the woven mat left beside the door. Lady Fielding had pointed out the mud and wet he brought in from the fields on more than one occasion, and he was determined not to give her more cause to complain against him.

He’d left his top boots by the door that morning and began to pull on the right boot before his foot encountered something inside the leather. He extracted his foot quickly, then turned the boot upside down, smiling when a far smaller shoe fell to the stone floor. He picked up the small black lace-up shoe, which most certainly belonged to his niece, then turned his attention to the other boot, which contained a similar treasure.

Thomas had always found Lizabeth endearing but had increased the time he spent with her in hopes of quieting some of her more
spirited
moods that had begun when her little brother—the next Lord Fielding—had been born.

The Dowager Lady Fielding, Thomas’s mother, had assured the other adults that it was a normal phase when a new baby usurped the position of the reigning youngest child in a household, but suggested privately to Thomas that perhaps a bit more attention toward Lizabeth would help remind her she had not been replaced. It was not a difficult task to fulfill, and Thomas enjoyed seeking out his young niece on the evenings he came in before she’d been put to bed. He would indulge her with whatever game or story or adventure she requested of him, and he felt his own cares soften in response. Apparently, today, she had escaped her nursemaid long enough to start their games early. Lizabeth was already showing a disposition more similar to her father than her mother, something which concerned Lady Fielding quite a lot.

After pulling on his shoe-free boots, Thomas took the dainty shoes and made the rounds to the drawing rooms and breakfast room on the main floor. Lady Fielding had fresh flowers placed in the rooms twice a week, and if Thomas was careful, he could remove a bloom or two from each arrangement unnoticed.

Once he had adequately gathered his ammunition, he went into the study long enough to write a note, which he then took with him to the third level, where the nursery was located. Lizabeth had reading time following luncheon each day, and although he feared he would get into trouble for interrupting, he arranged the shoes, now filled with chrysanthemums and rosebuds, in front of the door, then placed the note in front of the display. He knocked quickly, then ran several feet down the hall to a recessed window where he pulled himself tight against the wall so as not to be seen.

The door opened, and he bit his lip to keep from laughing at Lizabeth’s exclamation of delight. “What does it say?” she asked, surely addressing her nanny regarding the note.

“It says that if you are a good girl, your uncle shall join you for tea this afternoon.”

More squeals and hand clapping and then a reminder from the nursemaid that she would have to finish her lessons. Pray, what type of lessons was a three-year-old child to learn? The door closed, and Thomas removed himself from his hiding place, quite pleased with his quick answer to her game and wondering how she had gotten away from her attendant long enough to hide her shoes in the first place. A scamp indeed. Only time would tell if her baby brother inherited his father’s free-spirited disposition. Whatever would Lady Fielding do if he had?

As Thomas made his way to the family rooms on the second level, his mind moved from shoe bouquets to how he would spend his afternoon. Coming in from the fields early allowed him more time to work on organizing the estate records.

After Thomas’s return from London, he had taken upon himself the task of gathering the documents necessary for the transfer of land from the Fielding estate holdings to Thomas himself. Albert, busy with matters of his own, hadn’t attended to it over the summer, so Thomas had undertaken the task of setting in order nearly two hundred years’ worth of ledgers and documents which had been stored in numerous places throughout the manor.

When Thomas entered the library, Albert was at the desk looking over some papers with a quizzing glass held to his eye. As the second son, Albert had not been raised to take over for their father and never been studious toward the requirements of
being
Lord Fielding. Only when their older brother, Charles, died following a debilitating bout of pneumonia did anyone consider whether or not Albert was capable of the position. Only two years later their father had passed too, giving Albert the title and the responsibility at the age of twenty-four—the age Thomas was now.

Albert had been sent immediately to London for a wife—it was their mother’s belief that only marriage would settle his mind to his responsibility. Despite the mourning period, Albert married Miss Diane Broadbank in a private ceremony and set to work getting an heir of his own, which had been accomplished this summer. He’d done what was expected of him, but had been a bit of a bear those first years. Thomas had been at Oxford during that time but heard of his brother’s struggles through correspondence from their mother, who worried greatly. However, in the end her wisdom had been proven. Albert had risen to his position and performed his responsibilities admirably.

Albert looked up from the ledgers and quickly hid the quizzing glass. Thomas did not comment on it, as he knew Albert did not want to draw attention to the fact he could not properly see the figures without his instrument.

“Did our fine weather drive you indoors?” Albert asked with a smile, seemingly pleased at the interruption.

“Much to my displeasure,” Thomas said, looking out the large window behind his brother’s head at the expansive grounds where the trees were just beginning to change color. “If I could have three fine days together I could finish the harvest.”

“Three fine days together?” Albert repeated. “Does such a thing happen in England this time of year?”

Thomas smiled. “One can certainly hope, can he not?” He looked toward the crates of files, loose papers, and ledgers stacked in one corner. They had gathered records from all over the house and stored them here for Thomas to attend to as he could. They could easily have set the task to Albert’s secretary, but both men were of a mind to have a better understanding of the estate and this proved to be a good way to become educated. “At least there is plenty to occupy me indoors.”

“You say that with such—dare I say it?—affection.”

Thomas smiled. “Despite how it troubles you to hear it, I find establishing order quite satisfying. Each of the Barons had a different system—or no system at all—and putting the records together will create a far more manageable system for future use. I find it an exciting prospect.”

“You are a queer man,” Albert said with an exaggerated expression of concern.

“Better a queer man than a blind one.”

Albert laughed, and they returned insults and disparagements while Thomas chose which crate of papers to start with.

“Enough of that,” Thomas said after Albert called him a bird-witted nincompoop. “Now you’re just repeating yourself. Have you not reports to go over?” He waved toward the papers in front of Albert, then turned his back and ignored his brother’s mumbling. It was all in good fun, as it had always been between them.

Thomas pulled a crate in front of one of the leather chairs near the fire and picked up the stack of papers resting on top. It took nearly an hour to sort the papers into time periods, then he took one portion at a time to a set of shelves in the back of the library that they had cleared for the purpose of organizing the records. He tried not to be discouraged by the fact that despite the hours of sorting he had already completed, he had yet to find two of the documents necessary for the transfer of title he’d hoped would have been finalized by now. He and Albert were running their lands separately, even if the legalities were not yet in place. Still, Thomas wanted a deed of his own. He wanted to feel like his own man.

Thomas finished the first crate and moved onto the next.

“Did you hear me, brother?”

Thomas broke away from his focus on the papers and looked at his brother. “Forgive my distraction,” he said. “Do repeat yourself.”

“I asked if you ought not make your way to the Dower House about now.”

“I’m sure I have no reason to call today,” Thomas said, returning his attention to the paperwork. He visited with his mother a few times every week, and she joined them at Peakview for dinner more nights than not. “I had planned to be in the fields until sunset, though now I have a date to take tea with The Honourable Lizabeth Richards. I shan’t live it down if I were to stand her up.”

“I told you not an hour ago that Mama wanted you to visit
her
for tea this afternoon, and you nodded your agreement,” Albert said with a laugh.

“I did?” Thomas had a tendency to become so absorbed in his tasks that he was all but unreachable, so it was not beyond belief that Albert was right. Thomas enjoyed his mother’s company but hated interrupting his work. It could be weeks before he would have the free time again, and they were running out of season to finish the harvest, till the ground, and plant the new trees in the central portion to replace those older trees that had not produced well this year.

“Yes,” Albert said with a laugh. “You are to present yourself at three o’clock. I shall have Lizabeth readied to accompany you.” He stood and moved to the bellpull that would call a footman.

Thomas lifted the timepiece pinned inside his vest, then jumped to his feet. “It is nearly a quarter to three now.”

Albert smiled. “Then you should get to it.”

Thomas turned immediately, ever the attentive son, then stilled as he remembered the pattern of invitations his mother had created since his return from London. She had been quite disappointed that he had come home without an engagement and instantly set herself about the task of remedying the circumstance. She had instructed him to find a woman of his equal in London, and that he had not done so seemed to have convinced his mother he should have no requirements at all in a wife.