“Well, I’m not one to refuse an offer of shortbread and assistance in the herb garden.” He offered his arm and Olivia took it, then they returned inside.
*
After tea, Oliviaworked in the herb garden under Baxter’s direction, relishing the feel of the earth beneath her fingers and the burst of woody aromas as she placed each herb plant in the ground. No wonder Charles had relished his time in the herb garden with his mother. Perhaps he might be disposed to smile again when he saw it on his return from London.
As darkness fell, she returned to the house to find Nicola waiting in the parlor, reclined on the sofa. She rose as Olivia entered, then gestured to Olivia’s hands.
“Mr. Baxter has been working you too hard—look how soiled your hands are! I said you should have used those gloves, though I also said you shouldn’t have been gardening.
Olivia stared at her fingernails. “A little dirt won’t cause any harm. Besides, I’ll wash it off before supper. Are you staying for supper? I’ve been trying out a new pie recipe with Mrs. Groves—for when my husband returns.”
“If you wish it, my dear friend. I wish Jacob would join us. He seems to have been avoiding me lately. I don’t know why he prefers to eat with the staff downstairs.”
“I suppose he’s grown used to it,” Olivia said. “I have no objection if you wish to join him.”
“He should be joining me in the dining room. After all, heisa Devereaux.”
Nicola’s voice sliced through the air, sharpening the pain that had settled behind Olivia’s eyes during tea. Olivia rose and held her breath as her stomach rippled with nausea.
“I should dress for dinner,” she said. “Susie will be waiting in my chamber.”
“Shall I help you?” Nicola said.
“N-no, I’ll be fine. Susie’s turned out very capable.”
“Susie’s still a child. I’m yourfriend.”
“Very well,” Olivia said, unable to summon the strength to resist,and she exited the parlor, Nicola at her side.
They passed Colin at the foot of the stairs, peering into the body of the longcase clock in the corner.
“Has Mr. Reynolds entrusted you with winding up the clocks, Colin?” Olivia said.
“Yes, your ladyship. He showed me how to do it last night and said I must not to pull the weights too high. But I’m afraid of causing damage.”
“I’m sure that if Mr. Reynolds has entrusted you to wind the clock unsupervised, you’ll perform the task properly, Colin,” Olivia said, smiling at the young man. “You need to have a little more confidence in your abilities.”
“Yes, ma’am, thank you, ma’am.”
He reached back inside the clock and Olivia climbed the stairs, smiling at the familiar sound of the weights moving on their chains, followed by the deep ticking as Colin set the pendulum moving once more. Was there a sound more soothing than the ticking of a timepiece that had been lovingly crafted over two centuries before? Clocks seemed to take on a life of their own—living, breathing organisms that brought vitality into a building, turning it into a home.
And now, the clock had a distant cousin residing in the garden—a carved stone sundial nestling among the rosebushes that had taken four men to carry across the gardens.
Oh, I do hope Charles likes it!
She closed her eyes, willing herself to recall the expression in her husband’s eyes when he’d smiled at her. Then she took another step up and her foot turned. Pain shot through her ankle, and she slipped sideways.
“Lady Devereaux!” a shrill voice screamed, and Olivia glanced up to see her maid’s ashen face at the top of the stairs. “No!”
She lost her footing and fell on her side, the impact forcing the breath from her lungs. She reached for the banister, but failed to gainpurchase, and slipped downward, bumping on each step. As she gathered speed, she let out a cry, flinging her hands out toward Nicola, but her friend stood, frozen halfway up the stairs, her mouth a wide “O.”
Then a body arrested her fall and a pair of arms wrapped around her waist.
“I’ve got you, ma’am.”
Olivia clung to the arms, shaking, as she was set upright. She placed her weight on her left foot and cried out, and the footman tightened his grip.
“Careful, ma’am—beggin’ your pardon for touching you.”
