After their greetings, her father issued an invitation to Guy, which caused an unattractive scowl on Frederick’s face.
While they waited for two tables to be joined and the seating arrangements to be organized, Guy bent his head to her and spoke in an undertone. “Eustace has told the shopkeeper that he plans to remain here.”
“Do you mind?”
“No. The house is big enough, I just wish things were better between us.”
“Have you discussed your misgivings about his running of the estate?”
“I’ve not been able to talk to him. He’s returned to his sickbed.”
Hetty inhaled. “Is he very ill?”
Guy looked frustrated, his lips thinning. “I suspect it’s a means to avoid me.”
“You cannot be sure of that.” She thought Guy unsympathetic. “I shall call on him when he rises from his bed.”
“Have you two forgotten your manners?” Her father tapped her shoulder. “Look who’s arrived.”
Fanny, Lady Kemble, and Mrs. Illingworth entered the room. Mrs. Crimpton, who ran the establishment with her husband, promised them currant cake and gingerbread before rushing off to the kitchen.
Frederick held out a chair for Hetty and took the one beside her. “I have been hoping for a chance to talk to you, Miss Cavendish,” he said with an earnest expression. “I have had remarkable success developing a new variety of squash. It is far bigger and a finer green than any I have seen. I intend to enter it in the village fair. The flesh is whiter…” Hetty caught Guy’s eye over Frederick’s shoulder. An enigmatic smile played on his lips before he turned his attention to Fanny.
Hetty set her teeth in frustration. She wanted to discuss Guy’s problem with Eustace further, to try to help matters between them. It might be quite a while before she could visit Eustace, and the rift might widen and became impossible to mend. Especially, after Guy left for London.
It was an entirely unsatisfactory afternoon. Frederick discussed his successes in his garden in detail while Fanny giggled at Guy’s droll remarks. Her father talked to the widow, Mrs. Illingworth. He spoke warmly of the lady’s sound, good sense in the carriage on their way home. She’d invited him to visit the following afternoon to advise her on her investments.
If she hadn’t been so distracted, Hetty would have shown more interest in this latest development. Was it possible this new friendship could lead to marriage? She had taken immediately to Mrs. Illingworth, a calm, fair-haired lady of some forty-five years, who always seemed to measure her words before speaking.
Hetty arrived home with a throbbing head.
The next afternoon, her father dressed in his best coat. He was quite effusive as he said goodbye. A fledgling hope sparked in Hetty’s breast. She would write to Aunt Emily at once. If an invitation arrived, her father might agree to allow her to go to London while his attention was caught by Mrs. Illingworth.
In the library, Hetty sat at her father’s desk. She drew a sheet of vellum from the drawer and trimmed a pen. Then, dipping the pen in the inkwell, she began,Dear Aunt Emily, then paused, thinking of her conversation with Guy about Eustace. She would not wait to hear if Eustace had risen from his sickbed. The letter forgotten, she went down to the kitchen to ask Cook for some treats to tempt Eustace’s appetite. She would visit him tomorrow.
*
Guy walked backto the house from the stables. He’d spent the morning making himself known to his tenants, ensuring they had a plentiful supply of coal. He was disturbed by their primitive living conditions and promised to effect immediate improvements. Their children were thin and undernourished, their livestock in poor condition, and some of their roofs needed rethatching. The peasants were starving in France, but he had expected more from Rosecroft Hall. The estate manager had painted a grim picture, blaming the high price of bread on the Corn Laws last year. He’d complained about the decline of English trade owing to the war and Napoleon’s Continental System, high unemployment, and high taxes. Despite the overwhelming obstacles, Guy remained determined to put all to rights here at Rosecroft. He would employ more staff as soon as possible, even if it meant traveling to London to find them.
He stood admiring the architecture of the old house when a vehicle rattled its way up the carriage drive. As it grew closer, he saw it was Simon driving a gig with Hetty seated beside him.
Guy helped her down. Hetty wore a green pelisse with a fur collar the color of her hair, and a pretty bonnet lined with amber silk. The breeze toyed with the hem of her skirts, revealing a slim ankle, as he considered what delights might lie beneath.
“Good day, Simon,” Guy said with a smile. “I’m sure Williams will be glad of a chinwag.”
“As will I. Thank you, my lord.” With a bow, Simon slapped the reins and drove toward the stables.
“How ravishing you look today.” Pleased to see her in a pretty dress, Guy took her basket and carried it. “What have you here?”
She nodded her thanks. “Cook has made some afternoon tea for Eustace. Is he still in bed?”
It wasn’t the warmest of greetings. “No, he seeks the sun in the conservatory.”
“That is good news.”
“I hope you find him more talkative than I.” Guy followed Hetty indoors, waiting while Hammond took her coat and bonnet.
She patted her hair into place, her big expressive eyes filled with doubt. “Perhaps he’s not happy here.”
