A Proper Companion. Louise Gouge M.
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Chapter Five
Edmond awoke to the midday sun streaming through the double glass doors leading to his balcony. He had slept long and well for the first time in years. No narrow army cots in tents that failed to keep out wind and rain. No ships’ berths on rolling seas. No lumpy mattresses in wayside inns. Amazing what one night of good rest could do for a man.
Across the room Matthews dozed in a chair, his uniform in surprisingly tidy condition. Had he risen early and made himself presentable in anticipation of Edmond’s needs?
As if his thoughts had sent out a signal, Matthews jerked awake and rubbed his eyes. “’Morning, sir.” He stood, tugged at his red jacket and lifted his eyebrows expectantly. “Good sleep?”
“Good, indeed.” Edmond stretched and yawned. “I suppose Greystone’s already had his morning ride.” He still was not certain he could ride, but he would attempt it to spend time with his brother away from the house.
Matthews chuckled. “Aye, sir. Twice.”
“Huh?” Edmond threw his legs over the side of the bed and snatched up his dressing gown. “What do you mean?” A few odd aches reminded him of his injuries, but not nearly as painfully as on the long trip home.
“You’ve slept since we arrived evening before last, sir.”
“What?” Edmond surrendered to the news by plopping back on the bed with a hearty laugh. Just as quickly, he shot to his feet, swaying a bit as he regained his balance. “What news of Miss Newfield?” More precisely, how had Mother treated her?
“Not much, sir. Below stairs says Lady Greystone hasn’t summoned her yet, so she’s kept to her room.”
“Uh-oh. Not good.” Edmond ran his hands over his face. “Let’s get me presentable so I can go find out what’s what.”
While Matthews called for water and laid out fresh clothing, Edmond opened the doors and stepped out onto the narrow balcony. The familiar meadows and distant woods dappled with autumn colors sent a vague pang of longing through him. He inhaled a deep breath of the crisp October air to bring his thoughts more into focus. Despite Mother’s sternness, she was not a beast. Nor was she forgetful. So why would she leave Miss Newfield in her room all this time? Old Miss Peel had been permitted to wander the house and grounds at will when Mother had no need of her companionship. Perhaps the young lady did not understand her privileges. Edmond slapped his forehead. He had indeed failed her by not informing her of what would be expected.
His gaze strayed toward the east wing of the L-shaped manor house, and something jolted in his chest. There stood Miss Newfield on her balcony, her black mourning weeds blowing about her in the mild wind. Across the distance he could not quite make out the expression on her fair face, but her straight posture gave no indication of misery. Considering what he had witnessed of her character so far, he should have had more faith in her ability to cope, no matter what the circumstances.
She turned his way and lifted a hand to wave at him. Now he could make out a smile, and he waved back. Admiration and satisfaction filled him. She was faring well in spite of her solitude. He could ask for nothing more.
* * *
Anna wondered whether she had erred by waving first, but in her happiness at seeing Major Grenville, her hand seemed to lift of its own accord. Apparently he did not find her greeting inappropriate, for his broad smile reflected her own. Then, noticing that his dark red clothing was not his uniform but a dressing gown, heat rushed to her cheeks. Perhaps aristocrats had different customs regarding what was appropriate to wear out of doors. She offered a tentative parting wave and returned to her bedchamber.
Her foolishness struck her immediately, for her balcony seemed an extension of this room. No doubt the major felt the same way about his childhood quarters, so of course he would step outside upon waking. Had she not done the same thing these two mornings? She prayed his smile was an indicator that his health was already improving.
Taking a seat in the upholstered wingchair beside the bed, she picked up Papá’s Bible and resumed a search she had begun the day before. Surely some scriptural example could help her discover how to be useful in this household, but until she understood her employer, she could not be certain her actions would be appropriate. Lady Greystone had not sent for her, and Mrs. Dobbins had made it clear she was not to leave until summoned. Thus she had remained in the room, reading her Bible and praying for Lady Greystone, Lord Greystone, kind Major Grenville and all of the dear people she had left behind. And of course Peter, healing somewhere in the vast wilderness called America.
“Miss Newfield?” The call through her door was followed by a scratch, and she set aside her Bible to cross the chamber and open the door.
“Good morning, Johnson.” Anna gave the butler a welcoming smile. Other than the little chambermaid who brought hot water each morning, he was the only person she had seen, and only when he brought her meals. But this time he brought no tray, and Anna’s stomach rumbled a quiet protest.
“Lady Greystone requires your presence in the breakfast room.” The man’s formal facade never wavered. “If you would follow me, please.”
“Oh, yes.” Excitement, gratitude…and a hint of fear…swept through Anna. At last she would learn about her duties. “Thank you.” She felt a mad impulse to ask the butler whether her appearance was acceptable, but refrained.
Johnson started down the hallway, but uncertainty drew Anna to the long mirror on her wardrobe door for a quick inspection. She touched the high collar of her black bombazine gown and checked the tidiness of her hair, which was pulled into a soft bun a little less severe than Mrs. Dobbins’s. Mamá’s silver and sapphire pin was her only adornment, but at the last moment she removed it and stored it in the drawer of her dressing table, lest it be considered improper for mourning.
She hurried out of her room, but the butler had vanished. Walking in the direction he had gone, she hoped memory served correctly and she would find the front stairway around the corner. Her weariness two nights ago had prevented her from making sufficient mental notes about her surroundings, which would be humorous under other circumstances. But she certainly did not wish to get lost in this great house.
She turned the corner and entered a broad space that indeed led to the stairs. Relieved, she strode across the patterned runner, hoping to see the butler descending the staircase.
“Miss Newfield.”
The call came from her left. She turned to see Major Grenville walking slowly toward her, cane in hand and Matthews at his side. The major’s color had greatly improved, as had his posture. His uniform of a red jacket and white breeches appeared spotless. Morning light shone through tall windows across from the landing and glinted off his black boots, which were polished to a brilliant sheen. As he came near, she was reminded of his height, and her awe increased. What a fine-looking soldier. With some difficulty, she tamped down the giddiness stirring within her as he approached.
“Major Grenville, how well you look.”
“As do you.” His smile gladdened her heart. “What do you think of the Lodge? Has anyone taken you out to see the gardens and the park yet?”
“I, um…” As they walked side by side to the wide staircase and began their descent, Anna searched for a response that would not cast aspersions on his mother. “Lady Greystone has just now sent for me and—”
“So it’s true?” He stopped suddenly and seemed about to pitch forward.
“Easy, sir.” Matthews was beside him, ready to assist.
Anna stopped, too, and heat rushed to her cheeks. But what else could she have said?
The major leaned toward her, frowning. “I heard you haven’t been summoned from your room since we arrived.” Standing two steps above her, he seemed even more formidable. “That’s outrageous.”
Under his scrutiny, Anna drew in a bracing breath and somehow