Mary Blayney (48 page)

34

G
OOD MORNING!
Miss Hope!” Olivia opened the door and leaned in as she called out her hello. Big Sam settled on the bench by the front door. “Miss Hope! I have a basket with me,” she announced as the elderly lady came out of the parlor nearest the door much more quickly than usual.

“Oh deary, I saw you coming up the path and thought I might meet you at the door. It does not smell like a cinnamon bun.”

“I brought you all a salmon pie. You remember the recipe from the cookery book, the one you gave me as a gift at least five years ago?”

“Not really, Olivia. My memory…” Her words trailed off as though she had already forgotten what she was going to say.

“All right. I will remember for both of us.” She took Miss Hope’s arm and led her back into the sitting room. “Is the reverend working on his sermon?”

“Yes, and I am working on the songs.” She sat at the pianoforte and stared at the keys.

“I will leave you and take this to the kitchen.”

Miss Hope may or may not have heard her. Olivia had no idea what she was hearing in her head but Olivia was sure it would not be the hymns they sang on Sunday.

Within five minutes she and Annie were settled in the housekeeper’s rooms with a cup of tea and biscuits that were going a trifle stale. She would have to make more for them soon. Maybe the gingerbread cakes that were Miss Hope’s favorites, “because they smelled so nice.”

“Lollie.”

Annie’s gentle voice called her back to the moment. It was not nearly as pleasant a place as her imagination.

“The truth is, dearest, that people will think what they want to think,” Annie began in that gentle voice that so reminded Olivia of Annie’s mother.

“Nothing you can say will disabuse them of it. For example, that awful, awful woman who whores when she needs money tells me to let her know when the duke is bored with me and she will find some other man I can service.”

“Annie! That is disgusting. No one believes you are having an affair with Lynford.”

“In her head there is no other explanation for why I am allowed to stay here in the vicar’s house when I am divorced and disgraced.”

“Because you are as much a victim as I am? Why can no one understand that?”

“I am not as innocent as you are.” She looked down at the knitting in her lap. “I am not sure anyone is.”

“Go ahead and laugh at my naïveté.” Olivia saw her try to hide a smile. “
That
I am used to.”

“And your joy in the world is one of the loveliest things about you.” Annie sobered. “I am so sorry that it has been compromised.”

“It has not! I am safe and am sure that I will continue to be safe. I must think of something that will make people forget.”

“Let me know when you concoct that recipe. It will not happen until something more titillating comes along.” Annie considered the knitting that she had picked up but not started. “The truth is that no matter what you do, the incident is now part of the family lore.”

“No matter what I do?” She searched her mind for something impossibly amazing. “Even if I am the first female chef for the king?”

“One is as unlikely as the other.” Annie reached over and patted her hand. “I am content here, you know. My divorce was the oddity that we call a blessing in disguise. The vicar and his sister are so grateful for everything I do for them, and your brother is the most generous of employers.”

“So you say, Annie.” Olivia had often thought that if Lyn was that generous he would have settled money on Annie and let her create her own life, instead of making her stay here where there were constant reminders of her past.

“So,” Olivia mused, “if I were to take a lover no one would be surprised.” It was more than an idle thought.

“Olivia! I never said that.”

“You said that it does not matter what I do now. People will think what they want to think.”

“Yes, but that is not permission to live a life of debauchery.”

Now Olivia laughed. “I am not going to have a hundred lovers. But if I am never to marry I should like to know what sex is like.”

“Who says you will never marry?”

“No one, but I am not going to London again, not when the gossip is likely to follow me. And who marries a woman thought to be ruined?”

“Lollie.” Annie leaned forward, her ball of yarn falling to the floor. “Do you have someone in mind for the role of lover?”

Olivia smiled.

“Olivia.” Now she sounded exactly like Olivia’s governess, or her mother. “You will not seduce Mr. Garrett.”

“Never,” she said, trying to make her expression as frank as she could even as she thought,
Oh, yes, I will.

Annie wrung her hands. “I should have lied to you. I should have told you what you wished was the truth.”

“Never lie to me, Annie. You are my most loyal friend and I count on you to be the realist.” She kissed her friend on the cheek and rose to leave. “Do not worry. He has refused me once, maybe even twice before. I am not sure he even likes me.”

It seemed to be small comfort to Annie. Olivia could almost see her friend bow her head in prayer as she closed the door behind her.

Olivia walked home as briskly as her dainty shoes would allow.

“If you are in a hurry, Miss Lollie, I can carry you and run.” Big Sam was earnest in his offer. “We would reach home more faster.”

“Thank you, Big Sam. It is only that I have this amazing idea and I cannot wait to test it.” She sped up. “I can walk more quickly if you are concerned about my safety.” For her own part she did feel vaguely uncomfortable in the open even though there was no one else about.

When they reached the castle she hurried up to her room, telling Sam that she would meet him in the kitchen and asking him to tell Cook to have someone prepare a basket of chicken soup and the cheese rolls she had made for the first time that morning.

Olivia went up to her room and surprised Kendall napping on the small bed in the dressing room.

“I am so sorry, Kendall.”

“Do not be foolish, my lady. Napping is not what I am paid for. Tell me you want a fresh dress and your hair combed and I will be happy for a week.”

“That is exactly what I want.” Olivia smiled and wrinkled her noise.

“You do?” Kendall raised a hand to her heart as if palpitations were making her uncomfortable. “How wonderful. You so rarely care.”

It took much longer than Olivia had anticipated. Kendall thought the pink dress with the white and pink flounces was too dressy for the time of day and the white dress not at all appropriate for the cool weather even if it was almost June. She finally allowed that the lovely winter white with the green stripes was perfect. She insisted that Olivia carry a moss green Paisley shawl and wear the beige leather slippers and that she “not walk on the grass.”

Finally Kendall did her hair, winding a winter white satin ribbon through the curls. It made her look like a schoolgirl, but Olivia said thank you and did not pull it out until she left the room.

Like the perfect maid she was, Kendall never once asked for whom Olivia was dressing so carefully. If her maid knew, her heart palpitations would not be an affectation.

Olivia found Big Sam waiting for her in the almost-empty kitchen. She took the smaller of the two baskets from him as they walked toward the gatehouse.

“We are taking supper to Mr. Garrett. You can carry the big basket with the soup tureen.”

“If that is what you wish, Miss Lollie, but tell me if the one you are carrying is too heavy.”

She agreed with a smile and turned her attention to the sky. The sun was doing its best to shine, but she was glad that she had worn the shawl.

Olivia hoped that Michael Garrett did not think this year was typical of Derbyshire spring weather. She would have to explain what Gabriel had told them, though it was hard to believe that a volcano erupting on the other side of the world could ruin their summer.

“Miss Lollie!” Big Sam stopped and pushed her behind him as a man on horseback cantered down the path from the castle.

“It’s quite all right, Sam.” She waved to the rider who saluted her with a hand to his cap. “That’s the courier, on his way to London. Though he is leaving unusually late today. It’s almost four, is it not? He usually leaves after breakfast.”

Sam waved at the back of the courier and shrugged off the late departure. “He’s the one who brings us poetry from the duchess.”

And newspapers for the duke and recipe books for her. His return was one of the high points of her week.

Not a minute later Big Sam suggested that they take a route they had never used before.

“If we do that, Sam, we will have wet feet, and Kendall insisted that I not allow my shoes to touch the wet. Besides, if our feet were wet it would be an invitation to illness.” Olivia could never understand why Mary could annoy her so easily and she had endless patience with Big Sam.

“Oh, yes, milady.”

On and on. Sam had to be talked out of myriad unrealistic threats to her well-being. By the time they reached the end of the drive and the gatehouse, Olivia wondered if Big Sam was becoming a trifle overprotective.

He knocked on the gatehouse door with all the force of a father coming to confront a wayward beau. Sam’s knock was answered promptly by Mr. Garrett. It was, after all, four o’clock and even if he needed sleep she had calculated that he would be awake and dressed by now.

He was wearing different clothes from the ones he had worn last night—a fresh shirt and a waistcoat that was as conservative as his haircut—and had a clean-shaven face. His boots were polished so that, though old, they looked perfectly respectable. She was happy to see him looking so well.

“Good day to you, Mr. Garrett.” His smile made her smile back at him, and confusion quickly followed it. She came into his parlor without an invitation, and stumbled, almost dropping the basket.

Garrett grabbed her around the waist and rescued the basket from her. “I’m delighted to see you too,” he whispered and proved it by missing the table and letting the basket plop hard on the floor.

They both began laughing as though it was the funniest thing that had ever happened to them.

It might have been. How much cause had they had to laugh about anything until this moment? Olivia was so happy that she turned in his arms to hug him. He dropped his arms from her waist and stepped back.

“My lady.” He bowed as formally as if they had met in a ballroom. She gave him a small curtsy and sobered as fast as she had started laughing, more embarrassed than disappointed.

Garrett turned from her and held out his hand to Big Sam. “Samuelson.”

Big Sam’s confusion was genuine. Most people ignored him, as if pretending he did not exist was possible with a man close to seven feet tall and as white as a ghost.

Big Sam took the hand offered him and smiled when Mr. Garrett gave it a firm shake.

Mr. Garrett pointed at the basket. “I assume that is for me.”

“You sleep through dinner most days so I thought I would bring you something. Some of my truly restorative chicken soup and the newest of my attempts at savory rolls. There is also some ale with which to wash it down, and strawberries and cream.”

Stop babbling, Olivia,
she commanded herself.

“May I go upstairs?” Big Sam’s question was perfunctory as he was already on the first step.

“He wants to be sure that I am safe and that no one is waiting to attack me.” She spoke in a normal voice but gave Garrett a look that dared him to refuse the request.

When Big Sam disappeared around the corner of the staircase, Mr. Garrett approached her. For a moment Olivia thought he was going to sweep her into his arms, but instead he took her hand and spoke with some urgency. “While he is gone, Lord David and I discussed something a few nights ago that we both think we should ask you about.”

She did her best to ignore the way his eyes crinkled at the corners when he was smiling and focus on what he was saying. Now was not the time for flirting.

He led her to the chair opposite his at the table, apparently unmoved by the feel of her hand in his.

Garrett detailed his plan to promote Samuelson, as he insisted on calling him, to the position of night guard, “second only to the night porter for security of the castle after dark.”

“Do you truly think he is ready for such a responsibility?” Olivia folded her hands in front of her on the table and tried to think of more pertinent questions. He was asking her opinion. Amazing.

“I do think he’s ready, yes. He will be scrupulous, which is what I want until the miscreants who are responsible for your kidnapping are no longer a threat.”

“Why would you think they are still a threat? It has been weeks.”

“Admit that you are still nervous when you walk to the vicarage.”

He must have seen the surprise on her face at his ability to read her mind because he pressed his advantage.

“Think how much safer you will feel if Samuelson is on patrol and your brother or I go with you when you leave Pennford.”

“All right.” She nodded and realized that he was right. The very thought that David or Mr. Garrett would be with her made her feel strong enough to do it. Was it that she had lost confidence in Big Sam? No, not really. It was just that David and Mr. Garrett were cast from the same mold. Men who had faced the worst life could bombard them with, and lived.