Sheloved Penshurst. She had always loved Bowden more than any other place she had ever been, even Elm Court, where she had been born and had lived for her first fourteen years. She had always felt that Bowden would feel like her home for the rest of her life. But Penshurst, even before she had made a full exploration of either the house or the park, left her with a strange feeling somewhere in the pit of her stomach. A feeling of almost painful longing.
Perhaps, she thought, it was because Penshurst was his. Ashley’s.
They all went outside later in the morning, after breakfast, when the air was warm. At first they strolled with the children about the more cultivated part of the park and Ashley pointed out various features—a lime grove, a small artificial lake, views over the surrounding countryside. But soon enough the children demanded more by way of entertainment, and Luke and Ashley played ball with them while Emily sat with Anna on the lawn and Harry sat too and bounced his palms on the grass. Then Ashley was galloping about with a delighted James on his back and Luke was raising his eyebrows and telling his brother that he would have warned him if he had been given a chance. And so poor Ashley found himself having to gallop George and Joy about too. He collapsed onto the grass afterward in mock exhaustion while Joy and James simultaneously wrestled with Luke.
George had come running over to his mother. “Mama,” he said, “I want to go and play with the little boy.” He pointed off in the direction of the village.
“The little boy?” Anna frowned. “At the cottage, do you mean? Eric? But perhaps he is busy, George. Or perhaps his mama has taken him somewhere.”
“I want to go and see,” George announced.
“Heisa sweet-looking child,” Anna said. “But Papa and Uncle Ashley are looking after Joy and James”—James had just jumped onto Ashley’s stomach and was being rolled in the grass—“and Harry is going to be hungry soon. I will have to take him inside. You cannot go alone. Perhaps this afternoon.”
But George was in no way daunted. “Aunt Emily can take me,” he said.
Emily smiled and nodded. She would enjoy the walk. And if Eric Smith lived alone with his mother and grandfather, perhaps he would enjoy having a new playmate. She got to her feet and brushed the grass off her petticoat.
“You are too good, Emmy,” Anna said. “You will be sure he does not outstay his welcome? Children know woefully little about etiquette.”
George ran on ahead when they were close to the park gates. He could see Eric swinging on the garden gate outside the cottage. The two of them were in earnest conversation by the time Emily came up to them. She smiled at Eric.
“George has come to play,” he told her. “I am four years old. What is your name?” He transferred his attention to George and then looked back at her. “Oh,” he said, “you cannot hear or speak? Can you understand me?”
Emily nodded. But Mrs. Smith had appeared in the doorway. She was wiping her hands on a white apron.
“Mama,” Eric called, keeping his face turned toward Emily, “George has come from the house to play with me. This lady cannot hear and cannot speak. But she can understand. You have to look at her, though.”
Mrs. Smith looked embarrassed. She beckoned Emily. “Please come in,” she said, mouthing the words clearly.
And Emily suddenly felt embarrassed too. She had been used to wandering about Bowden, where people knew her and made allowances for her. These people would be dreadfully put out. And so would she. What if they talked and she could not understand? What if they didnottalk and looked very uncomfortable? But it was too late to think of such things now.
Mrs. Smith smiled when Emily came through the gate and approached the cottage door. “You are Lady Emily Marlowe? Have I remembered your name correctly? How kind of you to bring the little boy—he is the duke’s eldest son?—to play with Eric. He is frequently lonely, but he has a wonderful imagination.” She flushed. She had been speaking very slowly. “Do you really read lips?”
Emily nodded and smiled.
The cottage was plainly but neatly furnished. Mr. Binchley was coming downstairs as Emily stepped inside. He was clearly a gentleman, as his daughter was clearly a lady, though Emily guessed that they were by no means wealthy. He made her a bow and smiled warmly.
“This is an honor, my lady,” he said. “And how do you like Penshurst?” He turned away and appeared to be offering her a chair. He was not easy to understand. And then he turned toward his daughter, appearing startled, and finally looked at Emily. “Really?” he said. He seemed acutely embarrassed.
Emily smiled at him.
Mrs. Smith disappeared into the kitchen, perhaps to make tea.
Emily sat with Mr. Binchley, who looked about as uncomfortable as a man could possibly look. There was no one to break the silence—and Emily knew that people who could hear were always distressed by silence. She could sayyesand break it, she thought, but though the idea amused her, she was not feeling comfortable. Far from it.
Mr. Binchley caught her eye and they smiled weakly at each other. His hands fidgeted in his lap. Emily lifted hers and beckoned with her fingers. When he looked at them, she made flapping gestures and beckoned again.Speak to me.She felt remarkably foolish.
“I never knew of any deaf-mute reading lips,” he said.
She smiled with genuine amusement and tapped her chest.I can,she was telling him, and then laughed.
The laugh must have done it. He visibly relaxed and started to talk, a little more slowly than he had at first. She found to her relief that she could understand much of what he said. He told her about Penshurst and the neighborhood, and about how pleased everyone was to have the new owner living at the house at last. He had been steward at Penshurst for many years, he was telling her when his daughter returned with the tea tray, until his retirement after the death of Mr. Gregory Kersey, Sir Alexander Kersey’s son.
But Katherine Smith looked up at him tight-lipped and Emily turned her head in time to read her lips. “Must you always keep alive that myth, Papa?” she said. “You did not retire. You were replaced.”
“This is neither the time nor the place, Katherine,” he said. He got to his feet and bowed to Emily again. “I will leave you ladies alone.” He smiled kindly at her. “Thank you for calling, Lady Emily, and for bringing the child. He is the Marquess of Craydon?”
Emily nodded.
