Chapter Five
William dismounted atthe gate. For the first time, he was looking forward to his visit with the Lockharts.
Removing the carefully wrapped package from his saddlebag, he patted the suede cloth that protected it and beamed boyishly. It was one of his prouder moments. William had written to the Entomological Society in Munro with a very specific request, and they had more than met his expectations. Miss Lockhart was in for a big surprise.
It had cost a pretty penny. Not much of his allowance remained for an evening of cards with the lads. But it would be worth it to see her face when she received her gift.
He straightened his cravat and ran his fingers through his hair. His throat was a little dry, and he swallowed to moisten it. When he knocked on the door, his heart pounded along with the sound.
The stout, young maidservant let him in, her attention at once on the mysterious item in his possession.
“Shall I take your coat, sir?” She accepted it from him, her focus lingering on his hands and what they held.
The maid led him to the parlor, then left to return to her duties. William sat down, placing the parcel on the seat next to him, but stood again immediately as the family arrived in the cozy room.
The parcel received curious glances. However, they were all too polite to inquire after the contents. Instead, Mrs. Lockhart called for tea, and Miss Lockhart resumed the embroidery she had left on the chair.
“It is so good to have you visit with us again,” Mrs. Lockhart began. “Mr. Lockhart has benefitted immensely from having the company of a gentleman for a change, especially when it has not required his attention on some parish matter. A hearty conversation is always invigorating, is it not?”
“Certainly,” William agreed, though he did wonder if the vicar’s few quietly spoken sentences over the past several weeks qualified as conversation. Of course, he was not complaining. He had expected lectures regarding the life of a clergyman and the responsibilities he might come to expect if he entered the church. But Mr. Lockhart had not re-introduced the topic that William had expressed such doubts over. Maybe he could see what his wife could not. Or, perhaps, he simply couldn’t get a word in edgeways.
Mrs. Lockhart pressed on. “We did not see you in church this past Sunday. I hope you were not ill.”
“I was a little under the weather, but it was nothing serious.”
William remembered that headache all too well. It had been the result of a bottle of poor brandy and a very late night, or rather, an early morning. His father had been furious when William’s valet could not rouse him and had only paused in his admonishment to attend the service himself. The only good that had come of it was an exasperated comment that perhaps, after all, the military life would teach him discipline.
William looked across at Miss Lockhart. Had she noticed his absence too? Had she wanted to share a knowing smile that they were both thoroughly bored by the second hour of the sermon?
She was strangely quiet today. In truth, it was hard to be chatty when Mrs. Lockhart offered such strong competition. Buther mother usually drew her into the conversation, and she always complied. Today, however, Miss Lockhart was focused entirely on her embroidery. It was currently on a circular frame, though what its ultimate purpose would be, William could not guess. The domestic activities of ladies were something of a mystery to him. Be that as it may, Miss Lockhart gave all of her attention to the careful stitches she made and none at all to him.
Normally, William would find a way to coax a young lady’s focus to be trained on him. He might comment on her handiwork, then compliment her skill, his eyes lingering on her fingers as he praised her fine touch. Soon, he would draw a delicate blush from her cheeks, and she would be thinking only of him and his subtle cues.
He was considering whether Miss Lockhart would permit such playfulness or view it as inappropriate, when he noticed the pattern she was stitching. It had started as a series of leaves, their curves winding along the edge of the small hoop. But two of the leaves were now side by side like wings, and sprouting between them was the unmistakable segmented form of an antenna.
Too late, he found himself staring.
Mrs. Lockhart noticed at once.
“Oh, you see what a talent our daughter has with a needle, Mr. Cole. She really has quite the gift for…”
She spied the design.
“Ah… aha ha… I see you are creating leaves on atwig, dearest,” she declared, though her flustered manner suggested she knew it was no floral scene, but a beetle being brought forth. “How… original,” she concluded weakly.
The clattering of cups on a tray signaled the arrival of Nellie with the tea. While the men looked up at the plate of biscuits, an urgent scuffle ensued among the women. William only justnoticed Miss Lockhart’s embroidery disappearing behind her mother’s pillow.
“Mr. Cole,” came the flustered voice of his hostess, “will you take sugar?”
Out of the corner of his eye, William could see her daughter quietly fuming. But, as always, she kept her thoughts to herself.
He knew that feeling. He understood it. He wanted Miss Lockhart to see he understood.
“I won’t take tea just yet, thank you.” He turned to pick up the package. “With your permission, there is something I would like to give Miss Lockhart.”
Mrs. Lockhart’s raised eyebrows met his request.
“That is very kind of you,” Mrs. Lockhart said with a slightly worried smile, turning uncertainly to her husband. “I don’t know if…”
