It wasn’t difficult to see the connection between his distance tonight and his daughter-in-law’s agitation. If Mr. Baxter knew of the rumors, it was perfectly reasonable that he would do what he could to stymie them. And though Hettie preferred to have an honest explanation, she couldn’t fault him for silently withdrawing, either.
Mr. Baxter was her friend. At least, Hettie believed him to be. Not all friendships were forged in fire or built over long periods of time, and from the very first, Hettie had liked him.
Drawing in a deep breath, she forced herself not to wilt, though her heart made it difficult when it insisted on dredging up memories of their time together and how empty those future interactions would be. Mr. Goswick and Alice were still connected, after all. But then, perhaps his son wouldn’t ask him along on those outings, and Hettie would return to her role as the silent chaperone, following at their heels.
Good gracious, it was getting difficult to hold onto her holiday cheer when considering such thoughts. Turning on her heel, Hettie spied a pianoforte in the far corner (not Mr. Baxter’s hiding place, thankfully). She strode to the instrument and opened the fallboard to reveal the pristine white and black keys. As Hettie was not gifted enough to play by ear, she was pleased to see their hostess had amassed some Christmas music.
Sifting through the sheets, she settled on what looked to be a lovely arrangement of “O, Come All Ye Faithful,” and she took her place at the instrument.
Chapter 8
When people moaned and wrung their hands at the heavens, asking why God allowed terrible things to happen to the virtuous, the answer was simple enough. If doing good was a guarantee of protection and happiness for one’s entire life, it wouldn’t be difficult to do so. Righteousness garnered rewards far greater than immediate gratification or worldly boons, and unfortunately, the twists and turns of the path did not always allow one to see the blessings or their connections to past actions.
And though there were no clear benefits from avoiding Miss Stillwell, Baxter clung to the hope that he might see it one day. Seated at the piano, her fingers ran along the keys, filling the room with even more of the festive spirit, and it was far too easy to imagine pulling up a chair beside hers and passing the rest of the night by her side.
Baxter shifted in place, the back of his neck prickling as Stanley’s words played through his mind again and again.
Their first holiday without Dolores, and he was contemplating how to approach an unmarried lady? One who stirred feelings in his heart that were best left undisturbed. His children were clearly grieving the loss—in addition to the other difficulties lying between them. In short, they were at each other’s throats, and the last thing he ought to do was stir up more trouble by showing an interest in the lady.
Yet of their own accord, his eyes traveled to Miss Stillwell. The candles atop the piano were placed to illuminate the music, and it gave him a clear view of her profile. Her gaze was fixed on the sheets, her elegant fingers moving about the keys with the lightness of grace that seemed synonymous with the lady. Her hair curled at the nape of her neck and temples, drawing the gaze to her creamy complexion, and though her smile was not present, Baxter had seen it enough times to imagine her dimples peeking out.
More than that, Miss Stillwell had a light all her own that belied the darkness of the hour and outshone the myriad of candles the servants had lit—the brightness of her soul forever viewed the good in the world around her, yet without the naivety that so often accompanied such dewy-eyed people. Intelligence and humor were but some of her qualities, and when Baxter’s mind drifted to the present awaiting him in the library, he added kindness and thoughtfulness to the list.
Anyone would be honored to have such a lady as his friend. What was wrong with seeking her out?
Baxter’s brow furrowed, and reasons sprang to his thoughts as to why such a thing was a terrible idea. Firstly, his feelings were far more than the friendly variety. Though he’d ignored them for some time, there was no denying them as his heart pulsed with warmth at the very sight of her. He cared for Miss Stillwell.
But that did not mean he must approach her with the intention of courtship. Baxter was well-versed in keeping his own counsel and setting aside his feelings. How was this situation any different? His brows rose as he considered that.
Besides, he needed to thank her for the gift.
As his seat wasn’t in her line of sight, Baxter was able to draw up quietly behind her. Standing there, he watched her hands move through the happy notes, but his gaze fell to her neck, the line of which was uninterrupted by the ringlets and ribbons so many ladies employed in their coiffure. Her shorn hair lent a grace to the sweep, and he longed to brush a hand along the skin.
But Baxter banished those thoughts. There was no need to venture down that path.
Miss Stillwell shifted, her head turning just enough to see him there, and she gave a start, her fingers tripping only slightly before she turned her attention back to the music.
“Good evening, Mr. Baxter.” Her tone was polite and far warmer than he deserved after having ignored her for the majority of the evening.
“I fear I have been remiss,” he said, moving to stand at the piano’s side. Her gaze flicked to him and then back to the music.
“Is that so?”
“I apologize for not thanking you sooner for the wonderful gift you sent over this afternoon,” he said.
Miss Stillwell nodded. “I hope you will use them. As long as they do not gather dust, I will consider it money well spent.”
“You ought not to have gone to the expense,” he said with a frown.
But she met that with a challenging raise of her brows. “It has been weeks since you first mentioned your love of art, yet every time I’ve broached the subject, you haven’t done a thing about rekindling that passion. So, I thought it prudent to take the initiative. Everyone ought to have pastimes.”
Miss Stillwell paused, her fingers stilling, and though the interruption drew a little attention, she made no move to continue. “I am glad you approached, for I would like to apologize for what I said earlier.”
“Is that so?” he asked, parroting her question.
That drew a faint smile, but she chased it with a sigh. “Your loss still pains you and is likely to for some time. I didn't mean to dredge up difficult subjects or press the issue.”
Baxter’s heart twisted in his chest, but before he could think how to reassure her, she continued.
