Was he telling the truth? Sincerity fairly blazed from Lord Forthhurst’s green eyes as he said the words to her. How could she doubt him?
“To lose your esteem, especially based upon misunderstandings, would crush me,” he added.
She could see him retreating a little bit, pulling back into himself even before he turned and began to pace once again. Why did men find it so difficult to speak what was in their hearts? She reached a hand out toward him. “I am glad to hear your explanations. I am sorry for shutting you out and refusing to hear them sooner. It appears I owe you an apology for doubting.”
He stopped at one end of the looped path he’d been making and lifted his head to look at her again. “Perhaps we could call it even? I am certain I owe you an apology, for something, or many things. For failing to tell you sooner, and for making a muddle of asking to court you.”
She looked down at the tablecloth. “I think ‘even’ is a good place to begin again. You have certainly given me a great deal to think about.”
He approached the table and stood at the edge of it, as close to her as he could come in accordance with the conditions she had set. “Will you consider again my request to court you?”
“I will,” she said, nodding. “But I think you should speak with my father. He deserves to know the whole truth about everything.” Haste and passion had led to disaster the first time. She would not make that mistake again. “If he agrees to it, then so will I.”
Lord Forthhurst let out a whoosh of breath, not quite a whistle. “That is a tall order. I think your father hates me.”
“Would you want to marry without his blessing? I would not.”
“You are right, of course.” He paused for a moment. “I assume he knows that Mr. Pratt has already asked for your hand?”
“He does, and he also knows I have since refused it.”
“I thank God for that.” He ran a hand through his hair, riffling it in a way she would have liked to do. “When I discovered you had left and I learned what had happened at the ball, I was afraid you might run right into his arms. I could not have withstood that. You deserve someone so much better than he is. You deserve someone better than I. But although I tried, I found I could not bear to give you up, and no one seemed to measure up to the standard I felt you deserve.”
He was being so serious, and it seemed, truly honest. If he could be honest. She did not want to hurt his feelings, but she could not stop a small chuckle from escaping. “I fear you have a highly elevated opinion of me, Lord Forthhurst. You may be doomed to disappointment if we resume our brief courtship.”
He gazed at her so intently she knew she had been right to set conditions on their talk. She was trying hard to maintain boundaries between them. If he had been able to touch her right now, she would have melted in his arms, all resolutions shattered, despite her doubts.
He smiled. When he did that, resistance seemed nearly impossible. But she suspected he knew that.
“If you insist, I shall attempt to lower my opinion of you, Miss Tamworth. At the same time, I hope your estimation of my character may rise. Perhaps we may meet somewhere in the middle?”
That did seem a thought worth smiling about.
Adam called at the vicarage the next morning. He asked to speak with Miss Tamworth’s father, and while he waited in the entryway, he could hear her voice in the parlor. She was teaching her class. He realized he had been simply lucky when he had looked for them in the church the previous day. It made sense to hold the sessions here in the smaller, warmer space.
The young footman who had admitted him returned. “Parson Tamworth says he is about to go out on visitations. This is not a good time.”
There probably would never be a “good” time as far as the Reverend Tamworth was concerned. “Please ask if I may accompany him. What I wish to discuss is a matter of importance and some urgency.”
The servant left him again, and Adam spent several minutes listening to the enchanting lilt of Miss Tamworth’s voice as she read to the children and asked them questions. He was surprised to realize that he was able to identify quite a few of them by the sounds of their young voices. The younger Salsby children were easy to recognize, but he also noted several of the Burdick children, and others. When had he come to know this village so well?
He was gratified when the reverend himself came out to the entry a few minutes later, clad in his black cassock and his black wool cloak over it. “Very well, Lord Forthhurst. I cannot prevent you from walking along with me on my rounds if that is what you wish. It makes no difference to me.”
Adam had not expected a gracious welcome. Indifference was better than animosity, was it not? The vicar was putting on his hat–his ordinary hat. The words to remind him that today was “Silly Hat Day” were on the tip of Adam’s tongue, but he bit them back. They would not help his case. Offering to exempt the man by declaring his four-cornered minister’s hat to be silly enough also seemed unwise. Oh, the devil was trying to come out in Adam this morning.
“I may find that our purposes march well together this morning, Reverend Tamworth,” Adam finally chose to say. “I have forfeit assignments to deliver to many of the villagers.” After he and Cassie had rejoined them last night, Lady Anne and the squire had helped him to sort through his lists and not only decide on assignments but also helped identify where various people lived in the village.
A grunt was the only response to this sally.
“As we walk along, there are some matters I would like to discuss with you. Important matters.”
“Important to whom?”
This was not going to be easy. Adam hoped the reverend’s first stop was not too nearby. “To me, but also to you and to Miss Tamworth.”
“You have my attention for the moment.”
Adam decided to begin with the ball at Blakehill since the vicar had not stood in the way of it. “I would like to ask why you allowed Miss Tamworth to attend the New Year’s ball at my parents’ home. I had not expected you to agree without Lady Anne having to convince you.”
Unexpectedly, the parson chuckled. “That is a fair question. Surprised you there, did I not?” He stopped and turned to Adam, his smile disappearing. His stance became adversarial. “I wanted her to see the truth in everything I’ve taught her all her life–that your kind are not to be trusted and are only caught up in your own self-interests.”
Adam swallowed, holding in his pride and frustration. “That is a frank answer, sir. I appreciate your candor. Do you feel that the lesson was successful?”
“Hmph. No.” Reverend Tamworth turned and began walking again. They had gone as far as Church Street and now were headed down the hill toward the heart of the village. “She met her cousins there, the Earl of Brinton and one of his sisters. It seems they quite won her over, most astonishingly.”
“I doubt my opinion has any value to you, but I offer it anyway. I know Lord Brinton, and he is a good, honorable man, serving our country in the war effort.”
The reverend waved his hand, brushing Adam’s words aside. “It was clear to me that something else happened at that ball that upset her, but she has not confided in me. She wants me to go with her to visit her cousins.”
“Will you?”
“I am considering it.”
That sounded as though the man’s wall of bitterness had developed cracks. That was a good thing for Miss Tamworth, and perhaps even for Adam. “I believe she is willing for me to inform you of the other things that happened Saturday evening. You are correct that she was upset when she returned home, and some of that was my doing.”
Adam launched into a confession that outlined his part in what had occurred, and added the additional complications that had arisen during the ball supper. He even explained his agony at the thought of losing Miss Tamworth forever.
“I love your daughter, sir. Believe me, I tried not to. The irony is not lost on me that, given all the women in England who would overlook my considerable flaws in order to marry me for my rank, the one woman I desire is the one who holds that very thing against me.
“She finally agreed to hear me out last night up at Highfield.” He paused, pulling in a deep breath of cold air and letting it out again in a cloud. The air smelled as if more snow might be coming.
“I understand from Lady Anne that your own marriage was a love match.” Surely a man who had married for love must have some sympathy for his daughter wanting the same joy?
“Hmph. That woman talks entirely too much.” The reverend kept walking. They had reached the main street of the village, but had turned right at the corner and were now walking away from the inn towards the village green and the frozen pond. A wide variety of snow sculptures still decorated those places.
Adam waited, keeping pace silently.
Finally Reverend Tamworth relented, although he did not slow his steps. “My marriage was a love match, Lord Forthhurst. I thought I was the luckiest man alive. But in the end, that was the source of all our trouble, and I blame her family for her death, even though her final illness happened years later. She was never well after they turned her off. Yes, turned her off simply because she married beneath her! They broke her heart, and all of my love, and even all of Cassie’s, was never enough to mend it. Do you understand why I am bitter?”
Adam nodded. “I do. And I’m sorry. Yet I must say, the actions of one family do not characterize an entire class of people.”
“Yes, they do. It is a system. It was their devotion to keeping their status that led to their actions.”
“The land must be protected, but not all families are slaves to rank. You are a minister of the church. Would you not agree that human nature is nothing if not varied? Can you ever predict with certainty that any two people–even those with similar backgrounds–will always make the same choices? As I understand it, Lady Anne’s family did not react the same way when she chose to marry beneath her station.”
“Pah. They had five daughters to marry off. It was understandable.”
“But does that not illustrate my point? A different family, different circumstances, yes, but the same class and system, as you call it. Different results. I beg you not to paint us all with the same brush. You should go with your daughter to visit her cousins. They are not the same people who cast off your wife.”
The vicar stopped walking in front of a small village house that faced the green. “This is my first call, Mary Meadows,” he said. “So, you are in love with my daughter. What do you propose to do about that?”
Adam had forfeits for Mary Meadows but they could wait. Hope kicked his heart into a faster beat. “I would like your permission to court Miss Tamworth. She has said she will agree to it if you will.”
“Hmph. You had better do it quickly, then. Mr. Pratt my curate is not ready to take her ‘no’ for an answer. He plans to ask her again tomorrow night at the Twelfth Night celebration.”
Adam caught the reverend’s quick glance. Was there a hint of a smile?
“Her class ends at half-past ten. This afternoon she rehearses the children for the pageant.”
Adam’s heart soared. He wanted to shake the man’s hand. Blazes, he could have hugged him! But he thought better of it. Instead he touched his hat brim and executed a slight bow. “Thank you, sir. I have faith you will never regret this!”
Checking his pocket watch, he turned right about and headed back to the vicarage.
Cassie was aware that Lord Forthhurst had gone out with her father and then returned again. She had ears, and she had recognized the deep tones of his voice speaking to Jonathan who had twice admitted him. Apparently he was waiting for her now. What did it mean?
She tried to keep her focus on the children while they finished today’s lesson, but she could not suppress her anticipation. Anticipation. Would that combination of awareness and expectancy forever be connected in her mind with Lord Forthhurst?
She checked the small watch pinned to the bodice of her dress and saw that it said half past ten. “All right, Willy, you read that very well. That is enough for today, children. Go find your parents, and I’ll see you at the Four Feathers in thirty minutes. Even though we already know that today is Silly Hat Day, the Lord of Misrule no doubt has additional announcements to share with us.”
The children quickly relinquished the materials they had been using and scrambled to put on their outerwear. Coats, cloaks, hats and mittens were parceled out to their small owners. “Please form a line to go out,” Cassie told them, since a dozen small missiles could not possibly fit through the entryway all at once. She followed as they filed out, and closed the door behind the last one.
“Their energy is palpable,” Lord Forthhurst said behind her. “I don’t know how you do it.”
She turned around, surprised to see him there instead of the footman. She had assumed the viscount would be waiting for her to come to him, warming his heels in her father’s study.
Her surprise must have shown on her face, for he added, “I was waiting, but I enjoy seeing the children.”
And that was a difference between him and David Pratt, right there. Mr. Pratt found the children annoying, and never even tried to hide the fact.
“How do I do what?” she asked.
“How do you have the energy and patience and kindness to teach them day after day?”
“That is simple. I love doing it. I love them. I love helping to make their futures brighter by what I can do to enlighten their minds.”
He shook his head, as if trying to make sense of it. “I admire that greatly.”
What was he doing here? Her pulse had quickened merely from standing in the entryway with him. “Were you waiting to see me?”
His intense green gaze fastened on her. “Yes.”
Oh, heaven save her, how could so little make her knees weak? “Well, um, perhaps we can sit in the parlor? Please come in.” She gestured into the room she had just left.
He didn’t move. “I need to be at the inn in less than half an hour, but I have news. Your father has granted permission for me to court you. I thought perhaps we could walk down together.’
“Oh. I–why yes, of course. We could do that.” She could hardly believe what she’d heard. “My father did?”
Lord Forthhurst grinned. “Yes, he did. I can see you are surprised.”
“Indeed, I am.” Surprised, but so much else, including a little bit terrified. This man who with a look or a single word could turn her inside out wanted to court and possibly marry her. This man she hardly knew, this man who was the heir to an earl.
“The first thing I would like to ask you is if we could, please, begin to use our given names, at least in private, Miss Tamworth?”
It was a big step towards intimacy, but if they were courting, it made sense. She nodded. “All right.” She supposed her agreement to this also signified her agreement to courting.
He took a step toward her, the first time he had moved since their conversation had begun. He held out his hand, palm upwards. “Cassandra. Cassie. You’ve no idea how long I have wanted to be able to say that. Please call me Adam.”
She responded by moving towards him, without any conscious decision to do so. She reached her hand out and he took it, enfolding it comfortably in his warm fingers. The tingle started up immediately and ran right up her arm. The now-familiar candle flame inside her spurted to life. There could not be the slightest doubt that her body wanted this, wanted him. But her mind wanted time–time to know him before committing to his company for an entire lifetime.
That is what courting is for, she told herself. We have not been acquainted even twelve days. Her body might want him, but who could gainsay that might happen whether the man was devil or angel? There was much she still needed to learn about him.
“Adam.” She looked up as she said his name and saw him smiling down at her. She felt the urge to move closer and put her arms around him. Wouldn’t that have shocked him? She looked away quickly before she could do such an improper act, knowing he would more likely have been delighted. “I have never found ‘proper’ to be my preferred choice,” he had said the first time they met.
Yes, quite the opposite of David Pratt. Maybe she did know him, more than she thought.
“Let me go to put on my pelisse and bonnet, and then I will walk down to the inn with you.” She slipped her hand out of his, then headed toward the stairway, smiling.
In her room, she donned her blue velvet pelisse. After buttoning up the front she arranged her white wool shawl over her shoulders and then added the “silly hat” she had created that morning before the children had arrived for class. Using an old out-of-fashion straw bonnet as a base, she had pinned to it every hair ribbon and narrow sash she had in her wardrobe. Festooned with a multitude of colors, widths and lengths of streamers hanging off it, the bonnet looked very silly indeed.
Her reflection in the cheval glass told her the look was perfect–perfectly silly. She made a silly face at the looking glass to go with it, then headed back downstairs, feeling curiously light-hearted.
Adam’s face lit up when he saw her, and that reaction triggered a twist of pleasure inside her.
“Cassie. Your silly hat is magnificent! I shall be especially proud to escort you down to the Four Feathers.”
Jonathan appeared bearing Adam’s belled and beribboned Lord of Misrule hat and his gloves. As Adam put them on he added, “We present quite the pair with all our ribbons, do we not?”
She smiled and nodded, suddenly feeling a little shy. Given the times she had already walked with him and danced with him, even been kissed by him, the reaction was silly, too, except they had not been officially courting at any of those times.
She sniffed the air as they stepped outside. ‘It smells like more snow. Is that possible? We have had such an unusual amount already.”
He tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow and smiled. “I think the fact that we are here walking together proves that anything is possible.”
Possibilities. It was almost a whisper in her ear, as if the magic had returned. Maybe it wasn’t magic exactly. Perhaps the power of believing in happy endings? Perhaps they could find one together, after all.
She had so many questions to ask him. Start with something easy. “What is your favorite memory of Christmas?”
He frowned, as if sifting through a wealth of unpleasant memories searching for one that was happy.
His hesitation reminded her not to take his experiences for granted. She knew so little of his life. “I am sorry if you haven’t one. Should I not ask?”
They had nearly reached the corner of Church Street, but now he stopped walking and turned to her, his expression serious. “I don’t want you to ever think you cannot ask me something, Cassie. I promise I will never hide or hold back anything from you.”
She nodded, understanding the importance of such a promise. She had been the one who had made assumptions instead of asking, who had judged him without knowing full facts. Her thinking had been colored by the prejudice her father had taught her, but she hoped her eyes were open now.
He started walking again, drawing her along with him. “In truth, my childhood was a struggle, but I do have a favorite Christmas memory. It was simply long buried. The Christmas when I was six years old, my parents gave me a toy horse. Dobbin, I named him. I doted on him! He was nearly as tall as I, a handsome fellow carved out of wood, painted dapple gray and mounted on red wheels. I dragged him with me everywhere. Looking back, I can see he also represented something important to me–my parents esteem.”
His voice hardened a little. “I believe that was the last Christmas I enjoyed having such a precious gift. By the time I was seven, my mother had decided I was her “devil child” and I began to try to live up to that label.”
Cassie heard pain beneath his words, and her heart ached for him. “Why would she decide that? That is a terrible label to put on anyone at any age, but especially a child.”
He slowed their pace as they started down Church Street, as the going was slippery.
“I was a wild child, I’ll grant you–to my mother’s despair and my older brother’s delight. I was prone to mischief, and Richard encouraged me. In truth, he often led me into it.
“I worshipped him in my early years, probably because I could earn approval from him that my parents would never give. I admired his creativity. However, as I became older, I eventually saw that the reason I was so often caught in my mischief was because Richard arranged it. He was the one who alerted my parents most of the time. He found it highly amusing every time I was punished.”
He sighed, deep in his memories.
She had opened this gate, but his words were enlightening. “You must have felt betrayed when you made that discovery. I trust you no longer worshipped him?”
“He certainly had no need of my devotion, since my parents worshipped him. As the first-born he could do no wrong in my parents’ eyes. He just wanted to make certain that I could not compete for their affection, and he achieved that aim thoroughly.”
“Did your mother never perceive what he was doing?”
“She might have, eventually. But I adopted my role as the family devil, once I decided that she never would see through him. It at least brought me some form of attention.”
“You never tried to tell your parents?”
“They would not have believed me, as enamored as they were of Richard. I would have more likely been punished for trying to lay some of the blame on him, which would have added to his delight.”
“What sort of mischief did you do?”
“One time I granted freedom to the neighboring farmer’s pigs, and they went straight to my mother’s formal garden. I painted the faces of the marble statues in the hall.” He chuckled now. “They seemed vastly improved to me–no more blind staring eyes. One time I collected ashes from the fireplaces and filled the boots of the suit of armor in the entry hall.”
She chuckled too, despite the seriousness of the conversation. “Those seem fairly creative to me.”
“I thank you, madam!” He bowed, magnifying her chuckle into outright laughter. “I am afraid that I caused our servants no end of extra work. Astonishingly, most of them were my friends.”
“Perhaps they took pity on a young boy who could not gain his parents’ love.” She brought her right hand up to meet the hand already tucked into his elbow, taking possession of his arm and moving a little closer. “I am glad someone cared for you in those days.”
He smiled, gazing down at their footing in the snow. They had almost reached the main street of the village. “My sister also cared for me. Every time I landed in trouble, Emma despaired. But as she was even younger than I, she could not see what Richard was doing, either, until she was older. We both stood in his shadow, but we handled it differently.”
He spoke a little faster, no doubt aware that their conversation must end with other people around them. “When I acted out, at least my parents noticed me. Then I’m afraid mischief just became a habit. At school, it earned me notoriety and respect from the other boys. And in London it has had nearly the same effect among my circles, although some of my exploits there have been greatly exaggerated by gossip and rumor.”
“We should talk of this further.” Cassie looked up at him. She still had scores of questions.
“Yes. I promise we shall.” As they turned the corner and approached the inn, he tipped his hat in greeting to several people.
A crowd was already gathering in front of the Four Feathers. Numerous people already sported silly hats, to Cassie’s relief. She noted Mr. Cutts, the singing master, had glued playing cards all around the crown of his hat. Several of the children wore inverted cooking pots on their heads, and Mr. Shawcroft’s wife wore a low-crowned man’s hat with a bird’s nest affixed to the top. Mrs. Cargill had tied a loaf of bread to her head. Others apparently were not quite ready for the day’s assignment yet.
Adam chuckled. “I’m quite certain I’ve seen that bird’s nest treatment on a fashionable bonnet in London,” he whispered, bending to her. Straightening again, he added, “We had best find your father, since I must abandon you for the moment. My duty calls me.”
Reluctantly, she relinquished his arm. “You go ahead. He may not be here yet. I will find him.”
“If you are certain?”
She nodded and with a slight bow, he left her.
Admiring his fine form, she watched him make his way toward the inn steps, politely engaging with people who were in his path. Already she thought she understood him better. She wanted to know what other mischief he had done in London, what rumors were circulated about him. If they were to wed, she would need to be prepared to meet such nonsense head-on.
“I see you still have eyes only for him, even though he has left you unattended.” David Pratt’s reproving voice sounded close to her.
Where had he come from? She had not been paying attention, it was true. She glanced around the crowd, looking for her father, or Sally Hepston, or Lady Anne and Squire. Anyone, really, to whom she might attach herself and avoid conversing with Mr. Pratt. She noted that he was not wearing any sort of silly hat. No surprise there, since as far as she could tell, he had not participated in any of the Christmastide activities.
“He has a duty to perform,” she said defensively. “Furthermore, he knows I am perfectly fine here among all of our friends. My father should be here momentarily.”
“And what if you are not ‘perfectly fine” here among our friends? Are any of them paying the slightest attention? Besides me, that is.”
He reached for her hand and placed it in the crook of his elbow before she realized what he was doing. When she tried to slip it out, he pulled his elbow in so tightly against his side, she could not move–at least, not without causing a scene.
“What are you doing?” she hissed.
“Keeping you out of trouble, my dear. Even if you pine for him, I still want you to be my wife. You will forget him in time.”
She tried again to pull her hand out, to no avail. Somehow she had never considered that mild-mannered Mr. Pratt was a strong young man. His action seemed uncharacteristically aggressive. Had refusing his proposal turned the curate somewhat desperate?
She glanced around once more, feeling a little desperate herself. Maybe even alarmed.
She spoke in a low voice. “You need to know that Lord Forthhurst is courting me. He asked for permission and received it.”
Mr. Pratt tightened his elbow even more. “Your father would never countenance such a thing. Your infatuation has made you delusional.” He sounded perfectly confident.
Where was everyone? The whole village was gathering, yet Cassie did not see her particular allies. A random conversation with any villagers standing near her would not serve to change anything. Lord Forthhurst was consulting with Mr. Salsby on the steps of the inn, but she did not want to call his attention to her situation. That could escalate awkwardness into disaster.
“Mr. Pratt, I’ll have you know that my father did approve. You may ask him once he arrives. In the meantime, I insist that you release my hand. You are hurting me. I don’t believe either of us wishes to make a public scene.”
“The consternation such a scene would stir up might be a reasonable price to pay if I thought it would release you from Forthhurst’s spell.”
She was losing patience. “I am not under any spell, Mr. Pratt! And if I were, a scene would not cure me.”
Fortunately, at that moment Cassie spied Sally Hepston and her husband joining the gathering. Rising onto her toes, she waved madly with her free hand until Sally waved back and turned to speak to her husband. They started to thread their way through the crowd.
“What would it take to cure you, then?” Mr. Pratt was looking at her with a most peculiar and intense expression.
Cassie bit her lip. Not one of the responses that sprang first into her mind were acceptable to say to him publicly, or perhaps even privately. She answered him in clipped tones. “There is no spell, sir, and I am not delusional. Speak with my father if you think I am not telling you the truth. Release me so I may go and speak with my friends.”
Sally and her husband reached them just then and Mr. Pratt did release her hand. Sally had an inverted basket on her head decorated with a huge bow. Tom appeared to be wearing a turban made of twisted and interlaced stockings.
“Cassie! I have not seen you in more than a week. I have such news!” Sally was effusive. She took Cassie by the arm Mr. Pratt had just released and pulled her a few steps away. Cassie could not have been more grateful.
“My goodness, Sally. What can have happened in so few days?” But as soon as the words left her lips she realized how much had occurred in her own life during the same interval of time. She laughed. “I say that, and yet, I have news to share with you also. Tell me yours, before you burst.”
“I had better not burst. Tom and I are celebrating. I am in a family way!”
“Oh, Sally! I am so excited for you. Congratulations.” Hugs were in order. “You are positively glowing.”
Her friend laughed. “That’s from the joy. I cannot describe it.”
They spoke about the expectations Sally and Tom had for their future family, and then Sally asked about Cassie’s news. “Is it about you and Mr. Pratt?”
Cassie lowered her voice. “You might think so, the way he was behaving just now, but no. You will like this news far better. Lord Forthhurst is courting me.”
Cassie could see a squeal coming from the way Sally’s face lit up. “Sh-h,” she cautioned her friend. “Our agreement has only started this morning, and no one knows about it yet, not even Lady Anne.”
Sally held her clasped hands against her heart. “That is so romantic! Oh, I knew he was interested in you, Cassie. You see? I was right.”
But so much had happened that Sally knew nothing about. “Please do not make any assumptions. We must wait and see how things progress.”
Sally just smiled, but at that moment the Lord of Misrule called everyone’s attention, ending the conversation.
“Good people of Little Macclow, pay heed! We will assemble this afternoon at four o’clock inside the inn, to view the silly hats you will all be wearing, and to receive a few forfeits. Mr Salsby and I have also determined, if it isn’t snowing again by this evening, we shall have a bonfire on the village green, so bring what kindling or other burnable items you can spare.