The Mistress of Tall Acre (18 page)

“Touché,” she said in resignation. “We have little wood. Henry is too gout-ridden to manage it, and I’m little help with an ax.”

He reached for his gloves and cocked hat. “What do you Scots say?
Lang may yer lum reek
?”

She laughed. “‘May you never be without fuel for your fire’? Aye.”

“I’ll see to your wood, then, and we’ll be even.”

Together they walked slowly to the front door. Already she was wondering when she would see him again. “I’m missing Lily Cate,” she admitted. “Is she well?”

“Aye, she’s missing you. Her favorite letter is
S.
She writes it over and over.”

“
S
stands for your name too, remember.”

“Oh?” He shot a glance at her and came to a standstill in the foyer. “And what might that be?”

She warmed to his teasing.
This
was the man she was unsure of. Commanding and abrupt one minute, almost playfully sentimental the next.

He smiled down at her, something sad in it. “Nearly everyone calls me
General
or
sir
. ’Twould be a fine thing to hear you say
Seamus
.”

Seamus.
The temptation was nearly too much for her. Oh, to hear him say
Sophie
in turn. Tenderly. From the heart. She held firm. “’Tis rather unconventional, is it not? To be on such familiar terms?”

He shrugged. “Times are changing. Friends and neighbors shouldn’t stand on formalities, aye?” He hesitated as if waiting for her to reconsider. And then, “Good day, Miss Menzies.”

She watched him go, her breath misting the cold glass sidelight as she stood there. He untied his fine chestnut stallion from the hitching post and swung himself effortlessly atop the horse’s broad back, turning down the long oak-laden drive and disappearing from sight.

But not her thoughts.

And certainly not her heart.

14

G
lynnis, ’tis only what’s best for you. The doctor and I agree. Your sister agrees. She’s overjoyed, in fact. You leave in the morning. General Ogilvy has kindly lent his coach for your journey, and all the arrangements have been made. Dr. Spurlock even knows of a physician in Annapolis who treats lung ailments.”

Glynnis sighed and lay back against the bank of pillows in her cramped attic bedchamber. “It may be all right for me, but what about you?”

“I’ll continue to wait for word of Curtis, see what becomes of Three Chimneys.” Sophie smoothed the rumpled counterpane, not wanting to tell her how much she’d be missed lest she start crying and not stop. “When I get fearful about the future, I look back and see how faithful God has been.”

Glynnis twisted her handkerchief. “Despite your father’s forsaking you and your mother’s dying and Curtis not coming home.”

Sophie nodded, refusing to let despair do its dark work. “Despite all that, yes. General Ogilvy has been more than generous, and then there’s Lily Cate . . .” She bit her lip against the rush of emotion she felt whenever she thought of her. Lily Cate had brought life and color into her very monotonous world. Their time together was nearing an end too, but till then she’d savor every second.

“You’ll write to me.” Glynnis’s own eyes shone. “Tell me everything.”

“Oh aye!” She took one of Glynnis’s gnarled hands in her own. “You’ve been devoted to our family for so long. ’Tis time for you to rest and enjoy your sister’s company. I’ll come visit.”

Thankfully, Glynnis put up less of a fuss than she’d expected. Now that she was nearly eighty, her strength was spent. Sophie didn’t know how she’d weather the long trip to Annapolis, but the general had thought of that too, even hiring a nurse to accompany her.

“I owe you,” she whispered to him when the coach came round.

He smiled down at her, but it was edged with concern. He understood her feelings. When the groom opened the door, Lily Cate stepped out, chasing the shadows away. “Papa said I could come play.”

Together they stood and waved as the coach rolled down the drive, all her years with Glynnis along with it. “Well then, shall we have tea? Warm up in the morning room where there’s a fine fire?” Thanks to Seamus, they had wood enough to last through spring.

“All of it!” Lily Cate squeezed her hand, hurrying into the house. “My governess comes on the morrow. I wanted it to be you, but Papa said you’re a lady.”

“Governesses are often ladies too.” Sophie helped remove her cape and hat. “I hope you’ll like Miss Townsend very much.”

Her face held a worried cast. “I don’t want to like her better than you.”

Sophie touched her cheek. “You can like many people all at once. Your governess can have a special place in your heart, same as me.”

“Does Papa have a special place in your heart?”

Did Lily Cate sense her feelings? “Your father is a kind, generous man. He knows how fond I am of you, and so he shares you with me.”

“Don’t you want a little girl of your own? You told me so.” Without waiting for an answer, Lily Cate skipped into the morning room and knelt before the dollhouse. “What? A baby?”

Sophie dropped down beside her. “Henry carved it for you as a Christmas gift.”

Delight filled her pale face. She took the tiny figure from its cradle almost reverently. “We must name him.”

“So ’tis a he?”

Lily Cate nodded. “Boys are better. Aunt Charlotte told me I should have been one, that Papa didn’t want a girl.” The callous comment had obviously lodged like a splinter in Lily Cate’s tender heart.

“But God made you a girl. And God makes no mistakes.” Sophie gestured to the doll in Lily Cate’s palm. “What shall we christen this wee one?”

“Moses. Last night Papa read the story to me about baby Moses in the bulrushes.”

Surprised, Sophie tried to picture it—Seamus reading, Lily Cate listening, both washed in firelight. Her heart twisted anew. Despite the obstacles, he was trying to be a good father. He
was
a good father.

Lily Cate gathered all the dolls up. “They shall be a happy family.”

A happy family, something Lily Cate longed for. Was she even aware of the trouble in Williamsburg? She’d said no more about the strange man watching her window. The mere thought raised goose bumps. Perhaps the trouble had blown over.

But some nagging, unwelcome presentiment told Sophie it had only just begun.

He’d expected a governess. He just hadn’t expected one so young. Or so comely. Weren’t governesses supposed to be older and matronly and staid? Not fair and voluptuous and fashion conscious? For a moment Seamus felt Sophie had played a trick on him. Indulged in some secret matchmaking in hopes of winning a mother for Lily Cate. He was glad he was leaving on business and Sophie was coming to stay. By the time he returned, Lily Cate, Sophie, and the governess would have everything in hand.

“Your quarters are to your satisfaction, I trust.” He nearly winced at sounding so gruff. As if he was speaking to a junior officer, not a governess. “I suppose I should say your rooms.”

Miss Townsend smiled at him as if she found his slip amusing. “Oh yes, the adjoining sitting area is lovely, and I’m glad of the river view.”

“And your supplies? Everything in order for schooling?”

“There is one small matter, General. Will you allow for a dancing master in future?”

“Isn’t my daughter a little young for dancing?”

“She’s nearly six, is she not?”

“Nearly. Well, in August, aye.” Or was she almost seven? Out of his depth regarding dates, he cast about for something else to say as he took stock of the woman before him. “I suppose ’tis never too early to learn to be a lady.”

“Well said, General.” She looked about the room as if taking Tall Acre’s measure. “With your consent, the dancing master will lodge here for a few days to teach the local children. He’ll be making the rounds to neighboring plantations, and it would give Lily Cate an opportunity to be with others her age. He’s well known to Miss Menzies.”

Seamus let go of the paperweight he was fingering and met her gray eyes. “Well known?” Was she implying some intimacy? Might this be Sophie’s love interest? Why did he feel on tenterhooks when Miss Townsend hesitated?

“Yes. Master Parks was Miss Menzies’s dancing master at Mrs. Hallam’s, and mine as well. He’s quite proficient if rather old.”

Seamus relaxed. He liked old. Old was good.

“I must say I’m glad to have civility resume at war’s end.” She sighed, wistfulness in the words. “’Tis truly a crime what the war has done, sweeping all gentility away. But for your benevolence I don’t know where I’d be.”

Probably in some wealthy lord’s drawing room. Miss Townsend was, sadly, too highborn for a governess, and far too lovely. He lapsed into silence, wishing Sophie would come in and he could make ready to leave. He glanced at the mantel clock and felt the tick of anticipation. “Miss Menzies should join us shortly.”

“Miss Menzies . . . here?” Her confusion underscored the strangeness of his and Sophie’s relationship.

“Miss Menzies is a favorite of my daughter. She’ll be staying at Tall Acre while I’m gone.”

Her smile returned. “’Twill be like old times, then. I haven’t seen her in years.”

Turning toward the largest window, Seamus sent his gaze down the alley of cherry trees, relieved to see someone coming up the drive on foot. He would have sent a coach round, but the independent-minded Sophie wouldn’t hear of it.

Miss Townsend joined him at the glass, a surprised catch in her voice. “Oh my, she’s much changed. I hardly recognize her.” Her gaze slid down his coat sleeve to his maimed hand, which he’d forgotten to hold behind his back. “But the war has brought irreparable changes to us all.”

The mid-January day was cold, ice imprisoning each branch and bush. Tall Acre was beautiful in any season, but winter seemed to give it a special polish, highlighting every elegant brick and frosty pane. Sophie stepped lightly in her boots, passing beyond Tall Acre’s open gates with anticipation. Later Henry would bring her valise once she found out how long she was to stay.

A maid let her in, showing her to an unfamiliar parlor where a fire crackled noisily in the grate. For a moment Sophie stood on the threshold and held her breath. Cream and azure brocade covered the lavishly carved walls rather than simple paper. Beneath a glistening glass chandelier, a tea table was agleam with crested china and silver. She took a breath, savoring the moment. The stillness. The sheer perfection of the room.

Where was Seamus? She shooed the thought of him away, then took it back. No matter what she did or didn’t do, nothing toppled his standing in her head and heart. He’d even overtaken Curtis in thought.

“Sophie?”

The almost forgotten voice pulled her back to the doorway. “Amity?”

They stood looking at one another for a few appraising seconds, then embraced. The scent of violet water wrapped round Sophie, unleashing a host of lost memories. Amity Townsend was alarmingly pretty, fair-headed and lush of figure, and wearing a decidedly ungoverness-like gown of lilac silk.

“I must thank you without delay for my position here,” she said as Sophie linked arms with her and they passed into the room.