The Whisper Of Wings (12 page)

The garden was a stunning display of every flowering bush imaginable, some of which she'd never seen before, and she lingered over every blossom, forbidding Gerald to urge her on until she had taken her fill. He seemed to take pleasure in her enthusiasm, and allowed her as much time as she liked. Michaela took advantage of his patience, and lingered so long in the garden that they had to break for tea before he could show her the rest of the grounds.

With a promise to show her the stables later, they parted company at the top of the stairs and retired to their respective rooms to freshen up for the afternoon repast. As Michaela made her way down the hall, her eyes were drawn to the closed door of the master suite. At the mere thought of Christopher Standeven, she felt a surge of excitement. The feeling was both exhilarating and frightening. She'd been spending too much time thinking about Mr. Standeven lately. She knew it was folly, but she couldn't seem to stop herself from doing so.

She took a deep breath and determined to ignore her feelings. The more she thought about him, the more erratic her emotions became. In the beginning, she had assumed his imposing presence was the reason her pulse raced so dramatically. She'd been his guest long enough that her shyness should have faded. But it hadn't. If anything, her reaction to his nearness had grown worse.

She went into her room and closed the door behind her, resting her back against the hard wood, her thoughts in turmoil. Her future was so uncertain, too uncertain to feel settled, to feel as though she truly did belong here. She must train herself not to think of him anymore. But what an insurmountable prospect. How could she not think of him when she shared the same house, when she dined with him every night?

Never mind her heart's desire. She must concentrate on her future, on what she would do to get herself out of the predicament she had stumbled into. She mustn't think that her future included the Standevens, or even Mrs. Avery. She couldn't stay her forever, no matter how generous and kind they were. She just didn't belong.

Oh, dear. She would miss Mrs. Avery terribly. The woman had become like an aunt to her, a dear, doting aunt. How could she leave all that behind, the love she so fiercely desired? It seemed impossible.

She sighed and pushed herself away from the door. Gerald would be waiting for her. She shouldn't keep him.

She smiled at the thought of him. Gerald was a wonderful human being. She'd always sensed it, even from that very first day. But never had it seemed quite so apparent as now. Perhaps because she was feeling so out of bounds lately, her emotions raw, tumultuous, open to any influence. She was more vulnerable than she'd ever been in her life. She noticed everything, every nuance, mostly Christopher's interest in her. Mr. Standeven.

She frowned. She was being far too sensitive, perhaps even seeing things that did not exist. She would do well to reign in her chaotic emotions and keep a level head about her. She must never forget that she was lying to these people. However unintentional it was, she was trapped in that lie now. And she couldn't disappoint them with a slip of the tongue, one ill-spoken word. She couldn't bear it if she were to lose their trust now.

Shrugging aside her scattered thoughts, she glanced around the room, looking for her luggage. She was surprised to realize that her clothing had already been unpacked. Mrs. Avery, the dear woman, had apparently taken it upon herself to put Michaela's things away.

Feeling pampered, she went into the bathroom to rinse her face and wash her hands before going back downstairs. She seemed to be alone in the big house, though she knew she wasn't. Wondering where the tearoom might be, she peeked into the nearest room off the great hall. Finding it empty, she went a little farther down the hall and found herself in the library.

The moment she entered the room, she was captivated by the portrait over the fireplace. It was the most exquisite painting she'd ever seen, so mesmerizing that she had to step forward and take a closer look. The woman was stunning in an off-the-shoulder ball gown, her eyes so open and cheerful that she almost looked alive, her smile bright and inviting. She looked like she was literally bubbling over with happiness and contentment. The beauty of it went straight to Michaela's heart. If only she could have a small portion of that happiness, that contentment.

"I see you've found the library," Mrs. Avery said from somewhere behind her.

Michaela turned and smiled as Mrs. Avery entered the room.

"I hope I haven't disturbed anything. I was looking for you."

Mrs. Avery smiled. "Oh, it's so nice to be wanted."

"I wanted to thank you for unpacking my bags. Perhaps I can return the favor. Is there anything you need help with?"

For a moment, Mrs. Avery looked confused, but then her brows arched up as the realization dawned on her. "Oh no, dear girl. I didn't unpack for you. Not that I wouldn't have, but.... Well, I'm sure Sadie did that."

"Sadie?" Now Michaela truly was baffled.

"Why, yes. Sadie will be seeing to most of your needs while you are here."

Michaela gave a little shake of her head. "I don't understand."

"Why, she's one of the maids. Anytime you need anything, anything at all, Sadie is the one to ring."

Michaela could only stand there and stare in surprise. Gerald had mentioned that Mr. Standeven might afford her a maid, but she hadn't taken it seriously. Why, as far as anyone knew, she was nothing more than a beggar off the streets, yet here she was being treated like one of the family.

"I didn't expect—"

"Oh no, now don't you worry yourself about it. No one thinks you expect anything. It's just the way of things, and you might as well accept it. If I know Mr. Standeven, he'll not abide a quarrel over something so silly. He's a very proud man, you know. And he does well by his guests."

"Gerald said as much," she murmured.

Mrs. Avery clucked her tongue and went about busying herself with the dust covers that had been draped over the furniture, presumably when the family had left for New Orleans. Michaela followed, eager to make herself useful. The idea of having her own maid made her feel awkward, and she wasn't entirely sure how to deal with it. Somehow, she would have to be gracious, would have to show her appreciation of the gesture. Mrs. Avery had already made it clear that she couldn't refuse, and Michaela didn't want to offend Mr. Standeven.

"Mrs. Avery, who is the woman in the portrait?" she murmured, her eyes going again to the stunning painting.

"That's Mrs. Standeven. Gerald's mother." She paused and glanced at the portrait.

"She's so beautiful."

"Oh, yes. She turned many a head." Mrs. Avery shook her head sadly. "She was such a devoted mother. It's a shame Gerald didn't have more time with her. She died when he was just four."

"How awful for him. It must have been a terrible blow for everyone."

"Yes. Yes, it was." She sighed as she reflected back on the day. "Mr. Standeven was most tender and affectionate to her, right up to the day she died. And then he just seemed to retreat into himself, throwing himself into his business. It was all he had left in the world. All except for Gerald." She smiled sadly. "Mr. Standeven would stand over his crib at night just to watch him sleep. He was so thrilled to have a son. He wanted so desperately to share it with her. But...." She sighed again as she folded the cloth in her hands. "Things were different then."

Michaela studied the older woman for a long time, absorbing some of the grief she was feeling.

"Mr. Standeven doesn't like to talk about it," she said, looking at the portrait. "It was painful to everyone. She was such a wonderful woman." She smiled and gave a little
hmph.
"They were so in love. They married quite young, quite against the mister's wishes. But Mr. Standeven would have moved heaven and earth to have her, even if it meant defying his father. And he did. He did indeed."

She fell silent for a time, remembering, and Michaela felt something twist in her breast, her eyes once again going to the woman in the painting. The very idea of being loved so completely by a man like Christopher Standeven was almost too much to bear. It was something she would never dare to hope for, something her mother had always told her never existed. Yet, it existed here in this household. A love so intense that it had drawn the disapproval of the head of a wealthy family, presumably a man who was as imposing then as his son was now. Michaela was envious. No one had ever defied anyone for her. No one had ever loved her so much that they would give anything to have her. And her own act of mutiny had left her destitute, alone, her future uncertain. She would probably never know love now.

Her spirits drooped a bit in the face of it all. She would probably never smile quite as sincerely as the woman in the portrait. She would never be given the opportunity for such happiness. She would only always be destined for heartache and hardship. She had almost chosen it for herself rather than give in to the archaic notions her father had dictated to her from birth. She had made her choice, and she would have to live with it, like it or not.

"He has never re-married."

Michaela glanced at Mrs. Avery again. She had spoken so softly, yet Michaela could detect a slight hint of sadness tinged with disapproval in the other woman's voice. But then Mrs. Avery was turning away to assess the remaining dust covers that were still draped over the furniture, silently dismissing any further discussion, and Michaela wasn't brave enough to voice the question that burned in her mind.

"Perhaps that's why he wanted to redecorate a bit. Maybe he finally intends to clean the closets of those ghosts that haunt him. I think New Orleans was good for him. I think...." She turned to look at Michaela, who had followed her through the room helping her take up the dust covers.

"I think you are good for him," she finished. Sighing, she turned her gaze back to the dust cover in her hands. "Well, there's work to be done. I see Rebecca has been very careful about keeping everything clean, but I should have a meeting with the servants this afternoon. Cook has to be informed about the meals, and another maid needs to be taken in to pick up the slack now that the family has returned."

Out of the corner of her eye, Agnes caught Michaela looking at her, and smiled. On a whim, she closed the distance between them and took Michaela in her arms for a brief, hard hug.

"Oh, I'm so glad you decided to stay with us."

Agnes gave her another squeeze. "I'm so proud of your progress. You've gained some weight, you're not as withdrawn, and you even smile on occasion. Everyone loves that smile so." She shook her head and released the girl, her eyes a bit teary. "I'm just so happy. Promise you won't ever leave here, Michaela. Don't ever run away from us. You've added so much to this household. You'll never know how much. Some of us are actually happy again."

Michaela smiled. For the first time in a very long time, she really smiled. She liked hearing that she was wanted.

"Oh, Mrs. Avery, I don't ever want to leave," she whispered.

Smiling, Mrs. Avery patted Michaela's cheek.

"Well, well," a voice came from the doorway. "It was certainly well worth the journey just to see such a pretty vision as Michaela's smile."

They both turned in unison to find Christopher leaning in the doorway. Michaela's smile slipped, and she felt something odd leap within her breast at the sight of him, a strange mixture of uncertainty and happiness. He was so very arresting, even when he wasn't doing anything.

"Oh, now." He pretended to frown. "It's gone. How can we get it back?"

He stepped further into the room, his eyes almost smoldering as they beheld her. "You should smile more often, Michaela. It brightens the dullest of days."

Michaela obligingly gave him a faltering smile. She would do anything to please him.

Just when it looked like he would say something more, Gerald popped into the library.

"Michaela, I've been looking for you everywhere. Come, and I'll show you my favorite room in the house. It's where we always have tea."

She was almost disappointed by his interruption. She'd wanted to stay in Mr. Standeven's presence a little longer, to bask in the warmth of his gaze for as long as he desired to look upon her, and she hesitated to leave that presence.

Mrs. Avery obviously mistook her reluctance for something else and was quick to offer her reassurance. "Go on, dearie. I'll introduce you to everyone later."

Michaela was indeed impressed by the room Gerald led her to, but she was rather absent, her mind preoccupied with thoughts of Christopher Standeven. He didn't appear to be joining them for tea.

"You will learn that the commanding Christopher Alan Standeven rarely relaxes," Gerald explained when she was bold enough to ask. "Now that he's home from his trip, there are a million things to be done. And he feels it necessary to oversee each one."

Despite her disappointment over the absence of the head of the household, Michaela giggled at the way Gerald mimicked his father's ramrod posture and British accent. Gerald could always make her laugh. He had the wonderful ability to make her forget all about her plight, if only for a short time, and the tea ended up being a pleasant affair, even without Mr. Standeven's presence.

Afterwards, she enthusiastically followed Gerald through the rest of his tour of the grounds. By far the most thrilling discovery for her was the stables. Ecstatic, she ran from stall to stall. She couldn't believe how big the stable was, how many horses the family owned. Mr. Standeven's mansion was a paradise for horse lovers, and she was not immune to the sharp stab of envy at seeing such a fabulous holding. Her happiest times back home had been on the trail with her favorite horse. But that was only a memory now, a memory she wasn't even supposed to have.