“And he did bring you a gift.”
“Yes, I know. It’s just…”
“And if you had not been such a ninny about it, he would likely have brought you more.”
“Mother!”
“Yes, yes, don’t fuss so. I know you want nothing to do with the helpless fellow.” She grinned. “But Mrs. Fotheringhay does not need to know that. Not yet, anyway. Maybe now she will stop asking about your prospects. At least for a while.”
Verity’s protest was silenced. It had not occurred to her that her mother was trying to protect her. She only wished she did not need protecting.
A stomping sound alerted them to the return of Mr. Lockhart.
Mrs. Lockhart darted from the room, crying, “He will shake the snow all over the floor!”
Verity allowed herself a knowing smile. Her father had a habit of dusting off his hat and coat in the foyer, shedding snowflakes that soon turned to small puddles upon the floor.Nellie and a mop would be sent for, with Mrs. Lockhart complaining that Nellie already had enough to do, and that a more thoughtful husband would have sorted himself before coming inside.
Today, however, Mrs. Lockhart uttered a cry of delight instead.
“Post! And so much of it! Verity, look how many letters,” she called as she came back into the room, waving the stack in her hand. Mr. Lockhart followed, beaming, and took up position nearest the fire.
“Nellie!” cried his wife, to which footsteps hastily responded.
“Yes?” the maid answered, slightly out of breath.
“Bring Mr. Lockhart a hot cup of tea. And those special biscuits.”
“Certainly, ma’am. And would you like me to tend to the foyer?” She cast a glance at Mr. Lockhart, who looked decidedly drier than the foyer surely did.
“Tea first, Nellie.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
While they waited for the refreshments that Mr. Lockhart had earned, his wife sorted through the correspondence.
“Oh, look, here is something from the bishop. Pass this on to your father, Verity. Now, let’s see… What else?”
She stopped and stared at a familiar hand, twisting the letter to better catch the light and see the address.
“Who is it from, Mama?”
“Mrs. Cole.”
The letter was all but torn open, and Verity held her breath while her mother’s eyes raced across the page.
“Oh, my!” was all she said. And then, “Foolish boy!” and some tutting.
“Bad news?” inquired Mr. Lockhart.
His wife lowered the letter into her lap.
“Young William has joined the infantry. Apparently, his uncle helped him acquire a lieutenant’s commission. He left a few days ago for Munro to receive training with his new regiment.”
“He’s gone?” Verity whispered.
“Yes.” Mrs. Lockhart shook her head slowly. “His poor mother. She is beside herself with worry.”
“It seems he has found his purpose at last,” commented Mr. Lockhart.
