Lillian left her small cottage early and walked the five or so miles to the hall. She wanted to arrive before Mr. Pennington, not only to fix her appearance from her walk, but also to get a better sense of the hall.
The cold wind buffeted her, and she buried her hands deeper in her muff. Five miles wasn’t a bad walk, but she was unused to doing so in such cold. She’d never been so cold in her life. Lillian sighed and walked faster, hoping to alleviate the biting chill with motion. But the wind lashed along her skirts, teasing through the wool of her stockings.
Before, she had her carriage always at the ready, with a rug to warm her lap. Now she didn’t think she’d ever be warm again.
Winter scented the air, but the sky remained clear, and the sun felt wonderful on her face. Despite the frigid wind and piercing cold now settling in her bones, Lillian enjoyed the walk, the stretch of her legs, the open fields around her, and the empty road. Better, she enjoyed being out of her cottage and grasped this opportunity with both hands.
She opened the hall’s doors and was immediately greeted by a rush of warmer air; it was much warmer inside than out. In the noonday sun, the hall lost its air of festiveness. She saw what Alice Miller spoke of, the general decline apparent when one looked.
Lillian pushed open the door and entered. Her walking boots echoed over the foyer, giving the impression of being much larger than it looked. Curtains were opened to let the sunlight in, and in the distance, she heard people cleaning.
“Mr. Spriggs?” she called.
One of the men in the center of the room turned smartly on his heel. The first thought Lillian had as to Mr. Spriggs was serviceable. He looked very useful, from his practical clothes to his quick, even walk. She wondered if anything surprised him, but doubted he allowed any circumstance to do so.
“Good afternoon,” Spriggs said with a bow. “Miss Norwood, yes?”
She returned the greeting. “Yes.”
“I saw you, ah, the day you arrived at the Millers’, ah, Cottage by the Brook,” he said, and Lillian resisted a smile. Even his tone held a bit of droning functionality. “I’m sorry my, ah, my wife and I have not yet come by to um, to offer our welcome, but Mrs. Spriggs, um, has been under the weather. It seems the, ah, the winter winds started early.”
Offering a gentle smile, she nodded. “Yes, the winter winds are certainly making themselves known. I’d be happy to make a pot of stew for your wife, if you’d like.”
He looked startled. “Oh no, ah, no. Don’t trouble yourself, miss. It’s, ah, no bother. But,” he hastily added, “um, thank you.”
Lillian smiled again and looked around the hall. “May I have a walk about?” she asked, effectively changing the subject. Spriggs started to look nervous.
“Yes, um, yes, of course.” He nodded once and took her coat and gloves. “Please, ah, call if you need anything, miss.”
Lillian nodded and turned from him. With long strides, she crossed to where Alice Miller told her the roof leaked. Looking up, she saw severe water damage. She frowned. Honestly, it should’ve been patched months back — possibly as long as last winter. Doing so now would cost twice as much.
If she were home, back in Essex, she’d know exactly who to call and which carpenter offered the best price for the best work. Here, she knew no one.
But she shook that off. This was her life now. She needed to move forward, not dwell on the past. Lillian breathed deeply and now scented what last night’s crush covered: the mildew and decay, the rotting wood of an old building.
“Mr. Pennington!” Spriggs called.
Surprised he arrived so early, as they were at least a half hour before the appointed time, Lillian turned from her perusal.
“Good afternoon, Spriggs,” Pennington said in that same no-nonsense tone. Lillian watched him as he greeted the porter, but he didn’t so much as glance around the hall.
“I wanted to arrive early,” Pennington continued, his hands once more clasped behind his ramrod straight back, “before the ladies do. Between you and me, we can inspect the old hall and make a list of what truly needs to be done.”
“Mr. Pennington,” Spriggs said, sounding hesitant.
“Mrs. Martins and her ilk may find the hall acceptable for their balls,” Pennington continued. “However, there are quite a number of deficiencies in this building that must be attended to. And we — ”
“Good afternoon, Mr. Pennington,” Lilian interrupted.
She watched his face transform from masculine and take charge to utter surprise, and a little sprig of amused glee took root. It had been far too long since Lillian had the opportunity to surprise anyone, and she’d quite forgotten she enjoyed it, reminding people never to underestimate her.
“Miss Norwood,” he greeted with a quick bow. “I had not expected you here so promptly.”
Lillian purposely curved her lips into a soft smile. She took a moment to examine him, and Mrs. Primsby’s words from last night echoed through her. Pennington was still tall and handsome, but now she noticed how his eyes focused on her, how he turned toward her when he spoke.
She wondered if he gave everyone that impression, that they were the only person he saw, but set that question aside. His mouth softened into a warmer grin, no longer the stiff politeness she witnessed last night.
“Is it customary for appointments to be tardy?” she asked, unable to quell the hint of amusement in her tone.
His grin warmed further, and his blue eyes danced with surprised mirth. “The women of this village tend to keep to their own special time.”
“I see,” she intoned with a grave nod. Her lips ticked up in another quick smile. “I assure you, I abide to the clock tower’s time.”
His eyebrow quirked up, but he nodded. Taking off his greatcoat and handing it to Spriggs, Pennington said solemnly, “An attribute I sincerely appreciate.”
She gestured behind her to the roof and dilapidated corner she previously examined, and used it as a smooth change in subject. “There are several blemishes to the building we should address. Is this something we take to Mrs. Martins?”
“No.” Pennington shook his head. “I will not wait for Mrs. Martins to find the capital in the assembly hall’s coffers to finance these repairs. I shall finance them myself.” He gestured for her to precede him. “Please, show me what you’ve discovered.”
Lillian nodded and wished she’d kept her gloves. The draft truly was obvious now that they were the only two people in the hall, and the fireplace had not been lighted. Clasping her hands over her skirts, she rubbed her fingers in a vain attempt to warm them.
“This roof should’ve been repaired months ago,” she said and pointed to the water damage. “It’ll cost much more now.”
He hummed in agreement, and she continued.
“The paint is fading and the floor sagging beneath the water damage. However,” she said briskly, “I suggest we see to the roof first and the damaged window, if both are not too costly. The rest, for now, can be hidden by strategic décor.” She looked down at the floor and decided it was not so far gone as yet. “However, the floor will need to be replaced no later than spring.”
“No, let us attend to all of it at once,” he insisted. He grimaced at the roof and stepped back, away from the damage. “I want this place to be at its best for the feast.”
Lillian nodded. That was for the best, but in her experience, people rarely wished to expend the coin to see to it. Before she said anything, however, Pennington looked at his pocket watch and frowned.
Fascinated by the deep V between his brows, she almost missed his words.
“It seems we are the most reliable of our group,” he said, and the frown disappeared, as if it were never there. “Therefore, we should enjoy our work.”
He took another step away from the damage and gestured to the wall. “What do you think of a wall coloring? Something more cheerful than a dark color?”
Lillian tilted her head, still rubbing her fingers together. She longed to step away from the draughty window; however, Pennington seemed impervious to the cold November wind sneaking in through the broken panes. He moved from the water damage but not the cold. Interesting man.
“It would certainly elevate the hall,” she agreed.
He offered another quick smile, and once more Lillian felt as if only the two of them existed in this hall. She blinked and shook away the outrageous thought. But Camilla Primsby’s words refused to leave her, and Lillian couldn’t help but wonder if taking her life with both hands included Mr. Pennington.
“Shall we travel to Hyde Heath, then, to choose a wall covering?” he asked.
Lillian blinked. Surprised at the question, she looked around for a chaperone. The hall remained quite empty. Tempted as she was to simply agree, Lillian stepped back instead. She’d do nothing to ruin her reputation. Not when it was the only thing left to her.
“What of the others?” she asked warily.
“They are too late to catch the worm,” he said.
She laughed. Shocked by his words, his efficient attitude, and his seeming complete lack of care as to a proper chaperone, Lillian couldn’t help the startled laugh.
“I’m afraid, Mr. Pennington, I cannot ride with you unattended.”
“Of course not,” Pennington said, but he looked as startled at her words as she felt at his.
“Spriggs!” Pennington called. “Miss Norwood and I are heading to Hyde Heath. Would your wife be amenable to journey with us?”
“My, um, my wife,” Spriggs said with a quick nod, “is just a few doors down at the baker’s. She’s recovered sufficiently to manage a short ride. Um, perhaps she can, indeed, accompany you — ah, both of you — to, ah, Hyde Heath?”
Spriggs nodded quickly, a short movement, though his eyebrows raised high on his forehead. She couldn’t read the smile on his face, the quirk of his upturned lips; however, Lillian caught Spriggs’s glance between her and Mr. Pennington.
“Excellent.” Pennington nodded. “Now, I have a list for you,” he continued to the attentive Spriggs. “Do find Mr. Laurie and let him know his services are required here at the hall. I’d like to meet him promptly at eight tomorrow morning to discuss the repairs.”
Spriggs nodded again and motioned to a worker. Without a word between them, the other man disappeared. Lillian blinked, impressed. She thought Chesham a sleepy little village, but it continued to surprise her with the efficiency of its people.
“When the other ladies arrive,” Pennington continued, “simply inform them Miss Norwood and I have everything well in hand.”
“Uh, yes, sir,” Spriggs agreed. “I’ll, ah, I’ll find Mrs. Spriggs immediately.”
The worker returned with their coats, and Lillian gratefully reached for hers. Her fingers truly were frigid.
Lillian didn’t watch the porter leave. Pennington turned stiffly to her and looked grave when he met her gaze.
“My apologies,” he said softly. “My enthusiasm for a new project blinded me to the need for a chaperone.”
She bit back a disappointed sigh. He saw her as no more than a… a business partner. Not a woman, or at least not a woman he found attractive.
“It’s all right,” she told him softly. “Mrs. Spriggs will be here momentarily, and we’ll be off to Hyde Heath.”
Pennington looked around the nearly deserted hall. “Perhaps I shouldn’t have sent him off in such haste, as we are now on our own here.”
Lillian smiled and stepped from him, closer to the center of the hall and farther from the broken window. “We are in a public assembly hall attending to a meeting. All proprieties are intact.”
Those penetrating eyes once more caught hers. “Do forgive me,” he said and closed the distance between them. “I am more accustomed to dealing with soldiers and men of work with such projects.”
Lillian shook her head and resumed her previous relaxing tone. “I can appreciate such efficiency.”
“As can I. Too many whittle away the time, and nothing is accomplished.”
“Yes,” she softly agreed. “Time is whittled away with unnecessary distractions.”
And was that not how she wished to change her life? She hadn’t done enough when she believed Edmund was going to marry her and she need only wait for him. But now she had her own life and vowed to see to her own needs.
“There’s never enough time to do all that needs to be done.” He swept his gaze over the hall with the swift look of a commander on the field. “Unless,” he continued and met her gaze again, “one is orderly.”
“I am certain you were orderly as a captain with the Horse Guards,” she said frankly.
“It was my duty,” he agreed. “And I take duty very seriously as, I see, you do as well.”
Lillian tilted her head and wondered if he saw more than she wished. Or did he simply mean arriving here early and agreeing with his own assessment of work to be done? The efficient persona she showed to the outside world.
“I do my best to honor my commitments,” Lillian replied and tried to wipe all inflection from her tone. She was not certain how successful she was.
Lillian wished she knew more about engaging a man in conversation not related to business. Unfortunately she never had the time to perfect that skill, the frivolity of such chatter.
That way other women seemed to have in attracting a man. It surprised Lillian how much she wanted to attract Mr. William Pennington. How she wished him to notice more about her than efficiency and duty.
She licked her lips and wondered how to go about that. How to let down her walls and show him her true self. The woman she hid, the woman she’d nearly forgotten.
“An admirable quality,” Pennington said.
But his gaze flicked to her mouth. Suddenly she noticed a change in how he looked at her. That spark of interest she thought she saw upon his arrival now blazed, for a brief bright moment, in his blue gaze.
The interest that had her hoping Mr. Pennington saw her as more.
She blinked as warmth spread through her. But did she read too much into a single look? Time would tell, she supposed and smiled slightly. And perhaps Mrs. Primsby was, indeed, correct about looking into what was directly in front of her.