Bobby did his bidding as Perkins saw to the last trunk. “Did you bring much from London?” he asked, hope in his voice.
Tom guffawed as they made their way to the back door of the country house. “Plenty. I was with her ladyship when she went shopping. She is a most generous woman.”
“Well, that’s good to hear,” Bobby said, opening the door. He allowed Tom to step through before following him in. “’Cuz his lordship didn’t seem to bring anything with him but his clothes.”
This last was said with a hint of disgust, and Tom caught the tone. “Careful, boy. You don’t know what was in his trunks,” he warned.
Although he had worked for the earl for nearly twenty years before remaining in London to drive the countess for the past decade, Tom had paid witness to the earl and countess’ life, first as a young couple in love, then as parents of four children, and now as older people who no longer spent much time in each other’s company.
Having been married to one of the cooks at the townhouse in London and then widowed years ago, Tom knew the joy and heartbreak of marriage. He had mourned the loss of Mariel for several years and never thought to remarry, but when Lady Ritchfield had last traveled to the country estate for Christmas, he had become acquainted with Anne Salisbury.
The day after the Twelfth Night celebration when he had finished loading her ladyship’s trunks onto the back of thetraveling coach and his own onto the top, Anne had joined him outside.
With only a shawl wrapped about her shoulders against the winter chill, she had asked if she might write to him.
The simple query had him flustered at first. No one outside of his immediate family ever wrote letters to him, and those were few and far between.
He agreed, of course, and before he quite knew what was happening, Anne had stood on tiptoes and kissed him on the corner of his mouth.
He remembered blinking. Remembered her look of uncertainty. Remembered smiling. And finally he remembered gathering her into his arms and kissing her on the lips.
Although it had been hard to part from her after that, he didn’t remember anything but that kiss for the entire trip back to London, his thoughts only on her. In the intervening year, he continued to think of her nearly every day, and more often on the days when the post would bring him a letter from her. He did his best in responding, his ability to write hampered by his limited writing skills.
The notes were short, a single page, and sometimes tucked into the missives from Graves directed to Lady Ritchfield. Anne’s letters, chaste until the last sentence, where she would mention how much she looked forward to his return to Ritchfield Park, detailed life at the country estate and her thoughts of what she might do next in life.
At no point in any of her letters had Anne mentioned Bobby marrying Christina. Which is why, before they stepped into the kitchen, Tom said, “Does Miss Salisbury know you’re married?”
Bobby glanced up at him with a look of confusion. “I should hope so. She was one of the witnesses at our wedding.”
Tom furrowed a brow. “Huh,” he responded before turninghis attention to Clara. He gave her a tentative grin, afraid she might scold him for the puddles he feared were being formed around his boots. “Miss Clara, it’s good to see you again. I hear you have coffee.”
The rosy-cheeked woman grinned and held out a mug in his direction. “I do indeed, Mr. Walker. I’ve also got some cheese and bread for you, since you’re probably starvin’ from the cold,” she said, hurrying from the stove. “Why, you look positively frozen.”
Tom thanked her and set his trunk on the nearby table before taking the proffered drink. Holding the cup between his hands to warm them, he motioned to where Perkins had left the two trunks he had brought in. “Her ladyship went shopping for you,” he said.
“Aye, and I’ll be unpacking them both shortly, young man, but first you’re going to tell me all the gossip from London.” She patted a chair at the table and took the one adjacent to it.
Snorting at hearing Clara refer to Tom as a young man, Bobby gave him a grin and said, “I’ll take your trunk upstairs, old man.”
Directing a beseeching look at the groom, Tom realized it would be some time before he could reunite with Anne.
