THE NEXT MORNING, as Ella joined the guests already gathered on the forecourt to prepare for the hunt, cautious optimism flared. The clear blue sky welcomed her, and the goldfinch’s song entranced her. Despite the turmoil of the last few days, a renewed sense of purpose infused her.
Perhaps her interaction with Mr. Rowe the previous night—and the encouraging sense of solidarity she felt with him—had something to do with it.
As she made her way through guests and servants, Ella set her sights on Phoebe and Miss Sutton, who were standing at the east edge of the drive.
“How charming you look this morning!” called Miss Sutton as Ella drew nearer.
Eager to put the perceived disharmony from the previous evening behind them, Ella smiled. “Thank you. As do you both.”
“’Tis the fresh air.” Miss Sutton lifted her face to the sky, closed her eyes, and inhaled deeply. “What wonders it does for the soul.” When she opened her eyes, she used her hand to shield them fromthe sunlight and turned to the forecourt. “And how handsome the gentlemen look in their hunting attire!”
Ella turned as more of the men filtered through the stable yard gate, leading their horses, their riding boots shiny from the morning dew. Hunting dogs raced about them, barking and weaving amongst the horses. The refreshing breeze flapped their riding coats and carried their boisterous laughter, making them seem more like schoolboys than grown men on the verge of a hunt.
“I suppose there could be only one man drawing your attention, Miss Wilde.”
Shocked at Miss Sutton’s odd—and personal—statement, Ella winced. “I’m not sure what you mean.”
“Oh, don’t you?” Miss Sutton’s giggle seemed harmless. “I am, of course, referring to Mr. Abernathy. One could not help but notice his amorous attention toward you last night during the demonstration.”
Fire coursed through Ella. The nerve to comment on something so intimate. To someone she barely knew!
“There, do you not see him?” Miss Sutton nodded in Mr. Abernathy’s direction.
“I fear you’ve misinterpreted the situation, Miss Sutton,” blurted Ella, refusing even to glance at the man in question. “I’ve no interest in anyone.”
“La, isn’t that what we all say?” teased Miss Sutton. “But look.”
Ella’s stomach knotted, and she steeled herself as she turned to see Mr. Abernathy approaching.
Mr. Abernathy was not dressed for a hunt. Instead of breeches, ill-fitting trousers hugged his long legs, and leather pumps, each boasting a bright brass buckle, enclosed his narrow feet. As he drew closer, he lifted his seemingly too-tall beaver hat, and themorning sun highlighted the silver glint of his otherwise brown hair. His bow was ostentatiously low. “Ladies.”
“Do you not intend to hunt today, Mr. Abernathy?” inquired Miss Sutton.
“Indeed, no. I believe the other gentlemen have that task all but covered, and I hope to spend my day in much more pleasant ways.”
“I don’t blame you, sir,” corroborated Miss Sutton. “I agree—it is such a vile way to spend the day when there are such lovely grounds to be explored.”
Ella blinked, astounded. What was happening? Miss Sutton was acting as hostess, and Phoebe’s silence was unprecedented.
When did Ella lose control?
In a sudden change of topic, Mr. Abernathy shifted to face Ella and fully extended his arm toward her. “I was hoping, Miss Wilde, that you would do me the honor of showing me the formal garden. Your father claims that no one is better acquainted with it than you, and I’m exceedingly fond of such things.”
Panic clutched her as she stared at his offered arm. He clearly intended her to take it. From the corner of her eye, she spied Mr. Rowe crossing the yard to the main gate, chatting intently with Mr. Templeton. She wanted to run. She wanted to gather her skirts and race through the meadows to the woodlands and hide among the oaks, just as she had when she was a girl.
But there was no running away from this.
Regardless of her own personal desires, the realities of life were happening all around her. The best she could do in this moment—in any moment—was to try to keep the promises she made to her father and do her duty. Her cheeks ached at the forced smile as she placed her hand atop his arm. “Of course, Mr. Abernathy. I’d be delighted.”
Under normal circumstances, Ella could think of no lovelier way to pass the early morning hours. The dew still clung to the grasses, like diamonds scattered in every direction. Purple-hued aster and delicate rose hydrangeas bent and swayed in the gentle breeze, and bees hummed above them. As much as she tried, however, not even the loveliest thought could negate the fact that she was here alone with Mr. Abernathy.
Compared to Mr. Rowe, Mr. Abernathy seemed lackluster in every way. His words. His appearance. Mr. Rowe made her feel alive in every sense of the word, and Mr. Abernathy’s presence, whether he intended it or not, made her feel like a child, as if she were incapable of forming her own thoughts and opinions.
But she had promised her father that she would try. And try she would.
She’d employ one of the only bits of social advice that her mother had given her, which was simply to ask questions when she didn’t know what to say. “Are you fond of gardening, Mr. Abernathy?”
“Immensely.”
