Sarah sent her a smile and wave, and when Hannah arrived at her side, she clutched her arm. “Is it not the most perfect day to go visit a folly? Though, now that I think of it,” her smile fell and her brow puckered, “wouldn’t a gloomy day be more fitting? Dark and Gothic and spooky . . .”
Hannah laughed. “While I admire your imagination and spirit, I think you were correct with your first thought. The sunshine will give us a beautiful day for a walk.”
“I suppose.” Miss Baxton sighed. “Though one day it would be most grand to return when fog is creeping across the ground.” She narrowed her eyes, staring off into the distance. “Perhaps we shall hear screams from the ghost of a woman who had once been trapped in a tower long ago—”
“Goodness,” Hannah said with another laugh. “Is that true?”
“What?” Sarah jerked her head back toward Hannah.
“That a young woman had been held captive in a tower there. At the folly.”
“Oh, no.” Sarah waved a hand. “The building is not an authentic ruin, of course. That is only something I like to pretend to make it more exciting. Otherwise we shall only be walking about the grass. Which seems a tad uneventful, really. Though, with you in attendance, I am sure our walk will be much more riveting.”
This caught both mothers’ attention, both of whom had previously been chatting with one another. Mrs. Gibbons’s brow crinkled.
“What are you girls talking about?” Mrs. Baxton asked, her mouth forming a curious smile.
Sarah spun toward her. “Just about the walk today and how Hannah will make it much more exciting.”
“And,” Hannah’s mother began, “exactly how will her presence make the day more exciting?”
Hannah’s chest burned with worry as she glanced between her mother and Sarah.
“She just has a way about her,” Sarah said. “And I adore it. Today would likely be quite boring otherwise.”
“As long as there are no bees about, is that not right, Miss Gibbons?” Mrs. Baxton smiled, completely unaware of the ramifications her words could have. The poor woman was only trying to join in on the girls’ conversation. But she had done so much more . . .
“What’s this about bees?” Mrs. Gibbons asked, turning toward Mrs. Baxton.
“I did not see the incident,” Mrs. Baxton went on, smiling and completely oblivious to Hannah’s warning gaze. “But it seems your daughter is not fond of bees.”
“No, she is not.” Mrs. Gibbons’s words were hesitant—searching.
“It provided Sarah with quite the laugh,” Mrs. Baxton went on. “What a delight Miss Gibbons will be to have along with us today.”
“I am sure Lord Noah will protect you, if need be,” Sarah said, giggling. “Though, I am surprised your squeals are not enough to scare the insects away in the first place.”
Hannah slowly turned her head toward her mother, her neck strained. When Hannah met her mother’s eyes, they were exactly as she had feared. Narrowed. Censorious. Warning. Hannah tried to swallow, but her throat had gone dry.
“You will behave yourself today, Hannah.”
Hannah quickly nodded. “Of course.”
“Oh, posh.” Mrs. Baxton waved her hand. “We shall have the grandest of times. And I shall make sure everyone behaves.”
“I should hope so,” Mrs. Gibbons said. “My daughter’s reputation is quite important, as I’m sure you can understand.”
Mrs. Baxton’s smile dimmed. “Of course. We care very much about our children. But it is not wrong to have a bit of frivolous fun every now and again.” Mrs. Baxton put a hand to each of the girls’ backs. “Now let’s move along. We cannot allow the day to get away from us, and we have several others awaiting us in the carriages.” Mrs. Baxton waved at Hannah’s mother without looking back. “Your daughter is in good hands, Mrs. Gibbons. Do not fret.”
Hannah braved one last look at her mother, but instantly wished she hadn’t. Her eyes were hard and unmoving—and Hannah was caught in their crosshairs.
She walked to the waiting carriage, but her feet were sluggish, almost as if she were trudging through muck and mire instead of stepping across a neatly groomed drive. She tried to take slow breaths, but her mind was in a whir of thoughts.
Would her mother make them leave over so little a thing as a bee? Hannah hoped that Mrs. Baxton’s pragmatic response would help, but if Hannah’s mother heard something from someone else with a less positive view of the situation, it could cause talk of moving again. And Hannah could not bear it. Not when she was making friends and settling in. But perhaps her thoughts were too hasty. It wasn’t as if she had thrown herself on a man in her attempt to get away from the bee.
“Miss Gibbons,” a familiar male voice called out.
Hannah lifted her head, trying to leave thoughts of her mother behind so she could enjoy her day. Noah sat in a carriage waving at her, and she did her best to summon a smile. He stepped down and helped Sarah and her up into their seats before reclaiming his own directly across from Hannah.
