7
To sayhe'd slept comfortably on the narrow sofa that was roughly a foot shorter than his body would be a lie, but he did stay warm and he did wake up with the most delightful memory of Miss Clemens's flustered response to his state of undress the night before.
He grinned as he recalled the shock in her eyes when she'd realized he was naked beneath the blanket. Her entire face had turned red. But there had been interest too, a flare of curiosity she'd valiantly tried to hide by affecting a serious tone.
Ah, but he longed to discover the depth of her passion, to be the man who stoked her desire. But then he'd have to marry her because that was what she deserved. So he had to ask himself if he were really prepared for that. Did he know her well enough? She certainly didn't know him, and if she ever did, would she accept him for who he was?
He had no answers but he knew one thing: His parents had married for practical reasons, for duty and convenience, and they'd been mostly estranged from each other. Caleb didn't want that for himself. When he married,ifhe married, he wanted it to be to a woman who would be his friend, companion, and lover.
An image of Miss Clemens stole into his mind, and he immediately stood, eager to get on with the day, assess the damage the storm had caused, and perhaps catch a glimpse of the woman who’d somehow managed to possess his every thought.
When he discovered she'd not yet risen, he went outside to check on his horse. Apollo whinnied when he saw him approach and greedily accepted the carrots Caleb offered. Untying Apollo, he led him to a grassy patch so the horse could enjoy a good breakfast while Caleb inspected potential damage to the house.
To his relief, it was minimal. A couple of tiles had blown off the roof, but he'd been planning to remove them anyway. And a shutter had been torn off its hinges. Caleb found it some distance away on the ground and with both of its hinges missing.
By the time he finished fixing it, he learned that Miss Clemens had risen, eaten her breakfast, and gone for a walk. Since she'd not come to greet him, he could only surmise that she wished to avoid him right now.
“I need to ride into the village,” he told Miss Howard, who was giving the children handwriting lessons. “Is there anything you need?”
“Not really. The butcher will be stopping by tomorrow with our weekly supplies, but Miss Clemens does enjoy the strawberry tarts from Wilson's Bakery. If you were to purchase one for her, I believe she'd be very grateful.”
Caleb grinned on account of the woman's transparency and promised to keep that in mind. But he'd have to be careful how he went about the purchase since offering gifts to a woman was not deemed appropriate unless it constituted flowers. And even then it would be assumed that intentions were being announced.
In the end, he solved the problem by buying strawberry tarts for everyone even if it did seem like an extravagant gesture for a mere laborer, but he wanted to please the children as well, just as much as Miss Clemens in fact, which was something of a curious thought.
Carrying the box of pastries with him, he visited the tailor next. With only four days until Mr. Townsend's blasted dinner, he had to put in an order for a proper pair of trousers with shirt, vest and jacket to match.
“I'll take this charcoal-colored wool,” he told the tailor, deliberately selecting a fabric that wasn't too costly or cheap. “And this black satin for the lining.”
“That will be twenty pounds, sir,” the tailor said after taking Caleb's measurements.
Caleb promptly produced the necessary sum. “It's a good thing I just got paid then, isn't it,” he said to avoid any gossip about a laborer with enough blunt to splurge on a brand new outfit. That was the last thing he needed if he wanted to maintain anonymity. Which he did since the alternative was to have the world intrude upon his privacy with the exact same problems he'd come here to escape.
The strawberry tartswere well received by everyone. Caleb laughed at the sight of the children’s eyes as they took in the treats and at their custard-covered mouths once they’d each had a bite. Miss Clemens, he noted, smiled with pleasure as she consumed her tart as if it were the most delicious thing she’d ever tasted.
“I also like going for long leisurely walks,” he told her later that day when he found her alone in the garden. She was adding fir branches around the base of the rosebushes next to the house in preparation for winter. Hearing him, she looked up from her crouched position, her expression slightly tense as if she weren’t sure whether to stay where she was or run. “Being out in the middle of nature comforts my soul.”
“Why are you telling me this?” she quietly asked.
“Because you inquired about my interests, and I only mentioned history. But I enjoy a variety of different things, like chess and whist, provided I have a decent opponent, Gothic novels, especially those written by Ann Radcliffe, and gardening to some extent. In France I had a small vegetable and herb box outside my kitchen door. I used to love taking care of the plants and watching them grow.”
“Forgive me,” she said as she straightened herself and peered up at him, “but did you just say that your interests include Ann Radcliffe?”
“I’m a complex man, Miss Clemens,” he said with a shrug.
He added a smile and she laughed as expected, her entire face glowing with unrestrained humor. “Indeed it would seem that you are,” she said. “How very unexpected.”
“Because I’m a man?”
“Well…yes…I suppose so, though I hate to admit it. After all, Mrs. Radcliffe’s novels are romantic in nature, and her female characters do tend to dominate her stories, taking on the primary roles traditionally held by male characters.”
“Yes. But I enjoy her novels because of the psychological suspense, the supernatural elements, and fast-paced action. She’s an excellent author. My only regret is the limited number of novels she’s written, for I have read them all numerous times.”
She bit her lip and hesitated briefly before saying, “I must confess I rather enjoyedThe Mysteries of Udolpho. That castle gave me chills and had me looking over my shoulder a few times while reading.”
Caleb grinned. “I know. There’s the bolted door that somehow opens in the middle of the night, strange voices, and even a ghostly apparition. I couldn’t put the book down the first time I read it.”
“There are similar elements inNorthanger Abbey.”
