“No need to concern yourself, old fellow.” Nicholas patted his shoulder as he passed. “I haven’t lost my mind.”
And he must be on guard that he didn’t.
***
After dinner, Carrie searched for a book of Keats’s poetry in the library. She lay in bed flicking through it while considering where to begin. What poem might capture his interest? Although Nicholas didn’t appear to enjoy poetry, he was scholarly. Unlike any of the gentlemen she’d met at assemblies. But occasionally, she caught a twinkle in his eyes, which made her suspect she amused him. Did he think her young? She hated the idea and wondered how she might change his opinion. Keats’s newly published workEndymionmight be a good poem to begin with.A thing of beauty is a joy foreverclearly stated Keats’s intention and underlined her point.
She closed the compendium and blew out her candle, then lay back on the pillows. When Bella told her earlier how happy she was to live here, it warmed Carrie’s heart. Tomorrow, they would count the hours until Jeremy arrived. Would he be content to spend the school holidays here? It would make her debut in Society so much easier if she did not have to worry about them both. She would be free to choose the right man for them all. Growing sleepy, she dwelt on what a husband might be like. Honorable and thoughtful, gentle and true. She envisioned him here, lying beside her. When Nicholas’s face appeared in her mind with that charming quirk of his lips, it roused her with a jolt.
She knew a thing or two about the act. What husbands and wives did together to make babies. Thanks to her married friend, Mary Woolridge. Mary had explained it all in lurid detail until Carrie begged her to stop.
She closed her eyes, but an image remained: Nicholas, the easy, confident way he walked, how his gray eyes drifted over her face as if she pleased him.
But how bleak he looked sometimes. Naturally, he mourned the loss of his father and brother but was there was something more. When his eyes took on that haunted look, she wanted to hug him. Her father had referred to a tragedy in Nicholas’s past without giving her any details. Papa would never betray a confidence. She’d been curious, but now she wanted to know. Who would tell her? Not Nicholas, but perhaps Gwen might when she got to know her better.
In London, she would meet many gentlemen as cultivated as Nicholas, she supposed. She frowned. But would any be as attractive? Would their eyes brim with warmth the way Nicholas’s did? She frowned again. Nicholas found her attractive and was drawn to her, but what of that? It seemed clear he didn’t intend to marry, and she must look to her future.
Perhaps tomorrow, he would do or say something else she disapproved of. It was a sure way of keeping him at a distance, where he must remain in her thoughts. It was a satisfactory plan. She yawned and sleepily pulled the covers over her shoulders, closing her eyes.
Carrie awoke to birds singing outside the window. Bright daylight sneaked through a gap in the curtains. A knock on the door brought Anna with her chocolate. Carrie stretched and yawned. It was Sunday. They would go to church, and this afternoon, Jeremy would be here.
After breakfast, they walked to church in the fresh spring air. Bright, new leaves unfurled on the trees, the air sweet with greenery. A fawn appeared, then vanished into the woods. Bella skipped ahead along the road with Scotty trailing after her.
“I have decided we’ll begin withEndymion,” she said with a sideways glance at the man walking beside her.
“I shall be sure to read it,” Nicholas promised. “But the beauty of nature is all around us, Carrie. Life is so much more alive and real than poetry.”
“One enriches the other.”
He smiled at her, his eyes speculative. “Quite so.”
They reached the small gray stone church where the vicar waited. Nicholas introduced Carrie, Bella, and Scotty to him.
“What a blessing it is to our small society to have more young people amongst us,” Mr. Braithwaite said. “I trust you will enjoy my sermon.”
“I’m sure it will be most efficacious as usual.” Nicholas escorted them inside, where the sun, shining down through the stained-glass windows, colored the interior with pretty lights. He seated them in his family’s pew.
Carrie looked around. Penningtons were baptized and buried here. She intended to wander in the graveyard and learn more about those whose portraits she had inspected in the long gallery.
From the pulpit, the vicar cleared his throat and began.
Sometime later, they emerged blinking into the sunlight. Carrie stood as Nicholas shook the vicar’s hand. “A good sermon,” he said. “We shall gain much from it.”
Mr. Braithwaitelooked pleased.
“I enjoyed how you drew your sermon from John 3:16, Mr. Braithwaite,” Carrie said. “I am always inspired byGod has a plan for you.”
“Thank you, Miss Leeming.” The vicar flushed with pleasure and was about to elaborate on his theme when a lady came to his elbow and interrupted him.
Nicholas drew Carrie away. He introduced them to the parishioners milling outside the church. A gray-haired, late-middle-aged lady pushed through the group to reach them. A determined smile on her long face.
“My lord, how delightful to have those two children entrusted to your care,” she said. The look she cast Carrie seemed speculative. “If there is everanythingI can do to assist, please ask me. I have little enough to do these days except to look after Mother.”
“Thank you, Miss Carswell. That is very kind but entirely unnecessary. I wouldn’t dream of taking you away from your duties.” Nicholas replaced his hat. “Please give my regards to your mother.”
He offered Carrie his arm, and they walked back along the road, Bella and Scotty strolling ahead.
Carrie withdrew her hand when those ahead were out of earshot. “That was not kind, Nicholas.”
