Rubbing at his forehead, David worked through the first letter, making notes here and there for him to address. All the while, he glanced at the pocket watch.
The door swung open, and Mother flew through the entrance. “Mrs. Littleworth said you were here, but I could not believe it.”
Lifting his eyes from the missive, David frowned. “As I spend far too much of my time here, I cannot see how it is shocking.”
“Not this afternoon. You cannot go to the Hyatt’s party in such a state,” she said, wringing her hands. Mother gave his crooked cravat and ink-stained hands a narrowed look. “You are hardly fit to be seen, and we must leave if we are to arrive in time. You know I cannot bear to be tardy.”
Setting down his pen, David gave his mother a crooked smile. “I fear that as much as I wish to attend, I cannot escape my work. There is far too much to be done.”
“But your sisters will be so disappointed,” she said, her shoulders falling.
“I thought Father could escort you.”
Mother straightened once more, her brows pulling together. “You didn’t hear? He left this morning.”
Leaning back into his seat, David didn’t wish to ask the next question, for he was well aware of what the answer would likely be, but he couldn’t help it. “Where did he go?”
A handkerchief hung in Mother’s hands as her fingers worried the lace. “He mentioned a race or match or some other bit of nonsense near Liverpool.”
Without bothering to mention when he was expected to return, no doubt. David’s hand rested on the desktop, his fingers drumming at the polished wood. Before he could think how to phrase his next question, Mother answered it.
“We cannot attend unescorted, David. Even if we were to go there and return without an incident befalling the carriage or horses, there is the matter of your sisters.” Mother’s frown deepened as she paced before him. “Mr. Kellen was so overt in his attentions at the masquerade, and though Mr. Gould does seem good and proper, I would feel more at ease if you were there to help me watch over them. For all that I ought to be at ease after seeing Agatha so happily settled, I fear I am growing more anxious by the day that I shan’t do the same for her sisters.”
David’s shoulders felt close to buckling as she talked, his gaze falling to the physical manifestation of his other cares. So many letters. So much to do. So much to consider. And that did not take into account any worries concerning Father’s likely mischief.
But one of the great skills a tradesman must learn was prioritization. Success relied on one’s ability to examine the tasks, weigh their relative importance and merits, and plan accordingly. It was a talent that was sadly lacking in the world as a whole, and having been thrust into this role as unofficial head of the Archer family, David had done much to hone that ability.
As much as the work before him needed attending, a few hours’ delay would not cause as much fuss as Mother’s fretting. He would simply have to finish it all tonight.
Forcing a smile, David rose to his feet. “Ready the carriage, Mother. I will freshen up and be ready in a trice.”
***
Like gardening, berry picking was an activity that yielded wonderful results yet exacted a massive toll on those who attempted it. Though hours at the piano had strengthened Katherine’s back greatly, the constant bending and stretching was wearing on her, and she straightened, stretching those muscles. With a nudge, she set her spectacles back into their proper place, though the perspiration dewing on her skin made it impossible for them to remain there.
With a quick swipe, she wiped her forehead with the back of her hand. Pausing, she lowered it and frowned at the marks marring the skin. For all that work gloves would protect against the stings and scrapes during her battles with the brambles, she was more likely to crush the delicate berries. So, Katherine was left to brave occasional pain to protect her bounty.
Puffing out her cheeks, she let out a heavy sigh whilst rubbing at her neck. Little dots of black amongst leaves taunted her, promising so many delectable treats if she continued. The shrubbery was thick with winding paths throughout, allowing people to pick to their heart’s content, though few people availed themselves of the berry picking.
The brambles stretched out, curving out around a swath of green large enough for several blankets. People gathered together and reclined on pillows, laughing and chattering as they picked at the food the Hyatts provided. The party was a merry one, but Katherine’s gaze drifted over it quickly, hardly noting a bit of it.
No matter how she tried to stop herself, it was as though her eyes couldn’t help themselves. Whenever she appeared in public, they were always scouring for some sign ofhim.
As she’d spent the past two years being Mr. Archer’s friend, surely it should be an easy thing to continue—though Katherine didn’t know why she thought to lie to herself. How could she speak to him whilst knowing what it felt like to be held in his arms? The tenderness of his kisses? How could she think to keep her mind on their conversation when even now, the memory of their intimate embrace replayed in her thoughts?
Her cheeks heated, and Katherine forced her gaze back to the blackberries. Plucking the branches bare, she dropped the fruits into her basket, the dark and shiny mountain growing with each move.
“Good afternoon, dear sister of mine,” called Benjamin.
Katherine’s teeth clenched at the endearment and she straightened, pulling her hand free of the bush as she dropped more berries into her cache. But when she turned to greet him, she found her brother studying her gown with a furrowed brow. It was an expression she knew all too well, though her heart panged at the sight of it on his face.
Her apron was worn and smudged, but what fool picked blackberries without some protection? Granted, as Katherine glanced about her, she realized the pristine gloves and gowns surrounding her were a clear answer. Of course, most didn’t bother with the activity, and those that did never dug deep into the bushes, focusing solely on the surface fruits.
It was clear from their small mounds that berry picking was not the priority for them, but Katherine’s heart lightened at the sight of the quickly filling baskets at her feet. Mrs. Tomkins could do wonders with such a bounty; the cook had quite the talent for blackberry tarts, and Katherine fairly salivated at the thought of the buttery crust slathered with the filling. That perfect balance of sweet and bitter.
Benjamin’s smile faltered as he studied her, and Katherine’s chin jutted up. But he said nothing as another gentleman drew up beside him. Though she knew nothing of the fellow, he seemed a strange companion for her brother.
The gentleman appeared to have a good decade over herself (giving him two over her brother), and it was clear from a glance that he didn’t possess Benjamin’s or Mr. Archer’s easy manners. In a word, he looked stern. His heavy brow was pulled low, and if the gentleman ever smiled, Katherine would eat her bonnet, for he sported not a single wrinkle at the edge of his lips to indicate such a thing—despite boasting a few small ones between his eyebrows.
