I believe you may safely put down your treasures. I will make certain they are not…misplaced.”
Warmth crept into her cheeks. “Oh. Yes. Of course.” She set the Bible and teapot on the occasional table and returned to his side. “I am deeply grieved to hear of your mother’s loss. Is there anything I can do to help?”
A note of sadness colored his soft chuckle. “What an interesting young lady you are. In the midst of your own grief, you are concerned about someone you do not even know.” His intense gaze brought more heat to her face, and she could think of no response. “Mother does not like to be alone. I would be pleased to recommend you for her new companion.”
“Yes.” Mrs. Pitcher inserted herself into the conversation. “That’s just the thing.”
“Indeed it is.” Mrs. Brown appeared at her former adversary’s elbow. “But you cannot travel alone with this gentleman.” She glanced over her shoulder toward the solicitor. “That one seems the sort who would speak ill of you just for spite.”
The major nodded his agreement. “Perhaps one of you could accompany us to Greystone Lodge. You could return by the post on the morrow. At my expense, of course.”
“Ah, ’twould be grand to see inside a viscount’s manor house.” Mrs. Pitcher sighed. “Alas, my husband cannot do without me at the bakery. Gladys, you’ll have to go.”
Mrs. Brown’s face became a progressive comedy: Surprise, skepticism, comprehension, then utter joy danced across her countenance. “Why, I can’t think of a single hindrance.”
Major Grenville smiled. Grinned, actually. “What say you, Miss Newfield?”
Anna placed a hand over her mouth as hot tears flooded her cheeks. All she could manage was a trembling nod. How good the Lord was to her. Before she called upon Him, He had already answered. Before she had known of her own need, He had already prepared a place for her. She lifted a silent prayer for the dearly departed old companion, gone to her reward.
“And now—” Mrs. Pitcher raised her voice, and all heads turned her way. “Gladys and I will help you pack, m’dear.” She glared at the solicitor. “And may the good Lord help anybody who tries to interfere.”
The two women made decisions about what to bring, for Anna could not put together a single coherent thought. They packed the wooden chest, which the major insisted belonged to her, working quickly so the travelers could reach Greystone Lodge before nightfall. All too soon the major’s carriage rumbled out of Blandon, and Anna left behind the only life she had ever known. It was all she could do not to weep aloud, even as tears blurred her vision.
No, she must not break down. Instead, she would cling to the precious promise that one day all of these trials would seem as nothing. One day she would behold the Lord, just as Papá now did…and Mamá, gone these four years…and every trial would disappear. As for Peter, she would hold out hope that he was simply missing, perhaps a prisoner of the Americans. She prayed he would be treated with kindness, just as he would treat someone kindly who was under his charge.
The Lord had left her alone for some reason. During Papá’s illness, she came to realize she must find an occupation, never mind the social prejudice against a woman of the gentry engaging in work. It would be irresponsible for her to starve to death when she could support herself and perhaps do some good in the process. If the major’s mother did not approve of her as a companion, the Lord would give her some other employment. She simply must discover what it was.
Chapter Three
Despite the carriage’s cushioned upholstery and excellent springs, Edmond felt every bump on the road to Greystone Lodge. But at least the rutted highway held none of the surprises that plagued ocean travel: sudden plunges into watery troughs or massive swells that almost capsized the ship. How good it felt to be back on land and on his way home, if he might still consider the Lodge home. Lord Greystone had always been generous to his two younger brothers and would never turn them out. But a man must establish his own residence, his own occupation. Edmond longed to return to his Oxford law studies and become a barrister, but whether or not he could do so remained to be seen. After fighting on the Continent and in America for five years, he desired peace and rest, no matter what work he must set his hands to. Surely even Mother would see he was not fit to return to war.
Ah, well, time enough to ponder those matters while he healed. For now, he must play host to the other occupants of the carriage, particularly Miss Newfield, who seemed to be struggling to contain her tears. Brave girl. For once in his life, he felt as if the hand of the Almighty had directed him. On the monthlong voyage home, he had made up his mind to deliver the news of Newfield’s heroic death in person rather than by letter. But when he came upon the vicar’s funeral and subsequent harassment of the poor young lady, he felt certain his plan had been God’s doing. Perhaps this was the first step in his quest to discover his purpose on this earth.
On the other hand, now that they were on the way to the Lodge, he was reconsidering the wisdom of bringing her home with him. Yet what else could he have done? Like a desperate act executed amidst the chaos of battle, Edmond’s offer had been the only weapon he could grasp to save Miss Newfield. And however weak a defender he might be, he could not, would not abandon her.
Of course, he must consider Mother’s reaction, but he would not think about that now. Instead, he cast about in his mind how he might engage Miss Newfield in conversation. What topic might a vicar’s daughter find interesting? In fact, what might any young lady wish to discuss? Edmond had never perfected the art. As a younger son, he had met with young ladies’ turned backs more often than the friendly faces they offered his titled eldest brother. That painful memory dampened his spirits. Like any man, he wished to marry one day, but until he established himself in a lucrative profession, no Society lady would welcome his attentions. And he could hardly blame them. Why, even a poor gentlewoman like Miss Newfield deserved a husband who could adequately support her. Had no such gentleman resided in Blandon? Surely someone had aspired to win the hand of such a fair prize. Were they of like social rank, he might be tempted to court her himself after he regained his health.
* * *
Anna’s prior experiences in wheeled conveyances were limited to clattering dog carts and bumpy hay wagons. In contrast, the viscount’s roomy carriage had cushioned velvet seats and large wheels on springs that rolled over the rutted highway more smoothly than she ever imagined. It swayed almost like a cradle, lulling her toward the solace of sleep, for she was weary in body and numbed by her many losses. But sleeping might be considered rude. In an effort to shake off her drowsiness, she took deep breaths and peered through the wide windows to view the changing scenery from fields to forests to villages and back to fields again. Harvest was underway in all parts of Shropshire, and the scents of apples and newly mown hay filled the brisk autumn air all along the route.
Mrs. Brown sat beside Anna, her knitting needles clicking softly in time with the rumbling wheels. Across from them, Matthews slumbered against the padded carriage wall. Beside him, Major Grenville grimaced from time to time, then schooled his face into a milder expression. At these brave attempts to mask his pain, Anna’s heart went out to him. Perhaps she could distract him from his misery by engaging him in conversation.
What did one say to an army officer, an aristocratic gentleman whose titled brother sat in Parliament? Should she even begin a conversation with someone of his rank? In fact, the thought of meeting such an august person as the viscount set her nerves on edge. That was nonsense, of course. Did not the scriptures teach that all were equal in Christ? But while she might believe it, she had often heard that the aristocracy and, even more, the nobility considered themselves
