Ah, there it was.
Watching him carefully, Thea asked, “And what is it?”
“Would you please do me the great honor of introducing me to this enchanting creature?” he said, turning toward Mina. “I heard your delightful cousin was gracing us with her presence but haven’t had the good fortune to meet her yet.”
Both ladies stiffened and stared at the gentleman, and when Mina sent her a confused twist of her brows, Thea could only blink back at the lady. Not that she thought it odd that someone would wish to make Mina’s acquaintance, but those overdone manners had her wishing she could avoid giving the introduction.
“Miss Ashbrook, may I introduce Mr. Timothy Voss,” said Thea, motioning between them. “He is the younger brother of Mr. Frederick Voss. Though he returned home to be with his family during this difficult time, he resides in Leeds, where he is studying the law.”
Mina curtsied, and the gentleman swept into another low bow, though he glanced up at her whilst still bent over, those bright eyes of his sparkling as he gazed at the lady. Straightening once more, his smile was firmly fixed in place.
“I was hoping you would grace me with your company,” he said, motioning toward the feast.
A spark of surprise flashed in her eyes, and Mina turned her gaze to her cousin with a silent question that Thea couldn’t answer. Was Mr. Timothy serious in his attention? And even if he were, was it a good thing? That she hesitated told her plainly enough how little she trusted his intentions, yet Mina was so rarely pursued in any fashion that a little flirtation might do her some good.
Giving a faint nod, Thea prodded Mina forward, and the lady did so—though she looked at the gentleman as though he were a particularly odd specimen of wildlife. Mr. Timothy offered her his arm, and though Mina didn’t take it, she allowed herself to beled toward the tables as the gentleman asked about her visit, her home, and her family.
Though Mina spoke one word to Mr. Timothy’s twenty, she was speaking, and that must be a good thing. It was good practice, at the very least. Every young lady ought to enjoy the attentions of silly swains from time to time, and Mina’s experience was seriously lacking.
Why did gentlemen ignore the dear creature? How could they not see her value? There was such life in her features. So much heart. When she smiled, Mina did so with her whole soul. Her sweetness shone like a beacon, and her loyalty was as strong as iron. One couldn’t ask for a better friend and confidant.
Thea’s stomach gurgled, and she glanced at the tables, laden with so much food that they looked ready to crumple beneath the weight. Ought she to eat alone? Surely, Frederick wished to join her. He always did. Yet she spied him across the green, deep in conversation with yet another gentleman, seemingly unaware that there was food aplenty and his sweetheart yearned to eat.
Being quite capable of managing on her own, Thea knew she simply ought to do as she pleased—and the thought of eating pleased her very much—yet sharing it with Frederick pleased her even more—
Thea straightened as she spied poor Mrs. Brinn struggling with a babe on her hip and a tin plate in her hand as she tried to herd three other little ones. Though others around her saw the difficulty, they had their own children and plates to balance and were unable to offer the widow any assistance.
Moving without thinking, Thea hurried over with outstretched hands.
Chapter 11
“Please allow me,” said Thea, reaching for the plate. “Or would you prefer that I take Jennie?”
Mrs. Brinn glanced at the others circling her legs. “She’s in a fussy mood. I doubt she will allow anyone else to take her.”
“Plate it is, then,” said Thea, taking hold of it. Glancing at all the little hands reaching for the food, she was grateful the plates were tin, else they would most certainly be cracked and broken with the way they were swinging them about.
“If you manage Jennie and Susan, I can serve Martha and Billy,” said Thea. “Then we will find a place on the green to sit, and once they are settled, I will sit with them whilst you get a plate for yourself.”
“I can do so after the children have eaten—”
Thea gave Mrs. Brinn a sharp shake of her head. If anyone needed to eat, it was the poor widow standing before her. Not waiting for more objections, Thea set to work piling the children’s plates with everything they wished. It was far more than their little stomachs could eat, but it would wrap up nicely for later, and she would gladly go without if need be (though there was food aplenty).
It took quite a feat of juggling to manage both Martha and Billy, though the latter was easier as he only wanted pork pies. Being older, the former was a touch pickier, but Thea had the girl sorted out in a trice and made note of which foods they preferred. Though the charity baskets she brought them were limited by what her kitchen staff had on hand, she would make certain that more sweet buns and pork pies made their way into the hamper in the future.
The next moment, Thea was seated on the green with three of the Brinn children gathered round her, their little hands digging into their food with fervor; before venturing back to fill her own plate, their mother sent her a questioning glance, but Thea shooed her away. Soon, Mrs. Brinn was situated as well, with Jennie gnawing contentedly on a bit of cheese. In the corner of her eye, Thea spied other laborers’ wives waiting, glancing toward their friend and then quickly away when Thea caught sight of them.
Good deed completed, it was time to take her leave.
Mrs. Brinn gave a half-hearted protest when Thea rose to her feet, but the woman’s smile betrayed more relief than disappointment. No doubt the woman’s gratitude was sincere, but Thea’s presence now served only to keep others at bay: as long as a gentleman’s daughter occupied the place, none of them would dare join—as was evidenced by the empty patch around the Brinns.
Charity made for strange bedfellows. Having aided the young woman as the family struggled to find their feet after Mr. Brinn’s passing, Thea knew them quite well. Or felt as though she did. Mrs. Brinn always received her kindly, though with strained composure and stilted conversation that was confined to the children and the weather. For what could a farmer’s widow and a gentleman’s daughter share beyond gratitude and sympathy?
Amongst the working class, friendship was the only thing her neighbors could freely offer, and they did so in abundance. And theirs was preferable to Thea’s. So, with a gentle word and a final smile, she excused herself, and the moment she stepped away, others drew near, their voices rising into boisterous chatter as she distanced herself.
Thea was glad Mrs. Brinn had companionship—and yet she couldn’t help but feel the sting of rejection as she crossed the green. Mrs. Brinn wasn’t much older than Thea. Nor were the women who filled the widow’s social circle. Yet it was as though they were different creatures altogether.
With a sigh, Thea gazed out at the gathering, and Frederick was nowhere to be seen. She was done waiting. Fetching a plate of her own, she placed a few bits of bread and cheese upon it, though little of the once sumptuous feast was appetizing now. Then scouring the tables, Thea searched for a friendly port in which to moor—
