brothers. “Greystone. Richard.” Much backslapping and many endearing insults ensued while the brothers reestablished the bond that had been their lifeline since they were boys. Separated by mere fourteen-month intervals, they now appeared very near the same age, or so it seemed to Edmond.
“So, Greystone, what news from Parliament? Have you saved the country from the French yet?”
The viscount waved away the question. “You first. You must tell us about the war in America.”
“Only after I congratulate Richard for his ordination.” With the hope that no one would ask him about the war again, at least not in Miss Newfield’s company, Edmond clapped a hand on his middle brother’s shoulder. “Do you have a living yet?”
Richard glanced in Mother’s direction. “Um, well—”
“Never mind,” Edmond murmured. No doubt Mother was directing Richard’s appointments as she did his own. “You can tell me later.”
“Yes, well.” Greystone gripped Edmond’s arm. “Richard, you must present our baby brother to our new sister.”
“Ah, I’d heard that you married.” Edmond followed Richard to the table, where a pretty and very expectant young lady stood, a light blush coloring her pale cheeks. “Mary, may I present my brother Edmond of His Majesty’s Royal Dragoons.”
“Mrs. Grenville.” Edmond bent over her offered hand, while she dipped an unsteady curtsey and then leaned against Richard. The tender look that passed between them sent a strange longing through Edmond, even as he rejoiced in his brother’s happiness. “What a lovely addition to our family. Welcome.”
“Thank you, Major. You must call me Mary.”
“And I am Edmond.” He glanced at Mother, who sat observing the melee with her usual imperious facade. Was she pleased at the prospect of her first grandchild? He walked around the table and kissed her cheek. “Good morning, madam.”
“Humph.” While she did not rebuff him, she also did not return his kiss. “Sit down and eat. The sooner you regain your strength, the sooner you can return to duty.”
Not if he could sell his commission and resume his study of law. “Yes, madam.” As he moved toward his assigned seat where he had eaten many a meal while growing up, he noticed Miss Newfield still standing by the door. Remembering Mother’s neglect, he started to invite the young lady to the table.
“Come, come, Newfield.” Mother whipped her hand in the air, summoning her and indicating her place adjacent to the foot of the table in one gesture. “Here beside me.”
“Yes, my lady.” Miss Newfield’s voice was strong and confident. With a grace worthy of an aristocrat, she sat in the chair pulled out by the footman. Once again Edmond experienced no shame for bringing the lady to his mother, for she had not cowered in the midst of the family chaos. Seated beside her, he offered a smile, to which she responded in kind.
When a footman brought serving dishes, Edmond saw the hesitation in the lady’s eyes. Directing the man with a tilt of his head, he demonstrated how to serve his own plate. She followed suit, smiling her appreciation of the silent lesson. During their journey he had learned of her limited experience with servants, so he must look for opportunities to inform her of how to accept their service.
“This is my new companion,” Mother said amidst the flurry of breakfast being distributed around the table. “Her name is Newfield.” She took a sip of coffee. “Now, today I should like—”
The door opened and Johnson brought in the mail on a silver tray. He paused and glanced between Mother and Greystone, then carried the tray to the viscount. Edmond guessed the senior servants were often confused when Greystone was in residence, for Mother had ruled the house since Father had died some twenty-three years ago. When Greystone reached his majority six years ago, other than his entering Parliament, nothing changed. But then, Edmond’s eldest brother had always been an agreeable fellow, taking Mother’s dominance in stride.
When Johnson delivered the tray to Greystone, Edmond experienced a hint of satisfaction. Then a hint of shame. Scripture instructed a man to honor his parents, but it was rarely an easy task with Mother.
“Ah, good news.” Greystone held up a letter. “Uncle Grenville is coming for a visit. Should arrive the first week in November.”
“What?” Mother set down her coffee cup with a clink. “How dare he invite himself—”
“Not at all.” Greystone raised a hand to stop her. “I invited him.”
“You invited him?” Mother breathed out an angry sigh. “Well, then, I suppose I have no say in the matter.”
Edmond seized a bite of bread to keep from cheering. Perhaps Greystone was at last taking his rightful place as head of the family.
Greystone did not respond, but Richard, ever the peacemaker, leaned toward Mother. “You began to tell us your plans for the day. Is there any way Mary and I may help?”
Mother answered with one of her impatient “harrumphs,” and everyone fell to eating with no further comments.
Edmond’s thoughts darted here and there with unreasoning emotion not far behind. Perhaps Uncle Grenville’s visit was an answered prayer, if one could call a man’s fervent hopes a prayer. Father’s younger brother was a London barrister, Edmond’s desired profession. He had begun his law studies at Oxford until Mother insisted upon his joining the dragoons. How little she knew about her youngest son, for he would far rather face courtroom battles than the military sort. But the prospect of gaining his uncle’s patronage sent hope bubbling up in Edmond’s chest, and he coughed to clear his throat rather than choke on a bite of sausage.
Eyebrows lifted, Miss Newfield glanced his way as if trying to discern his distress. He returned a small shrug to dismiss her concern, adding a slight grin to show his appreciation. In every way this young woman exuded kindness, and he prayed Mother would not destroy her gentle spirit.
* * *
“Newfield.” Lady Greystone’s sharp tone cut into the silence that had descended upon the breakfast table. “Your mourning attire is incomplete.”
Anna glanced down at her dull black bombazine gown, but resisted touching her hair to see if any strands had escaped their pins. “Forgive me, my lady. I will be happy to—”
“Your black bonnet will do for out of doors, but when you are indoors you must wear a black lace or crepe scarf.” Lady Greystone eyed her briefly before returning to her eggs. “I shall have Hudson find something for you.”
Anna had yet to meet Hudson, but she knew her to be Lady Greystone’s lady’s maid. “I thank you—”
“This afternoon we will make our rounds of the village. Wear your walking shoes.” Her perpetual frown deepened. “You do have walking shoes?”
“Yes, my lady.” Anna’s heart lifted. Perhaps she would find people to whom she could minister in the village, as she had in Blandon.
“Edmond, you will accompany us.” The viscountess eyed her son as if daring him to decline.
The major did not respond immediately, but at last said, “It will
