A Soldier’s Heart(24)

At one home a young girl sat on a low bench in the yard with several even younger children clustered about her. Serena was astounded to see she was reading from a book in her lap. She ordered the driver to stop.

“Where could the child have learned to read?” she inquired of an equally mystified Cecily.

By this time the cottage door opened, a woman, obviously in an interesting condition, standing in the doorway. “Children,” she commanded. Immediately they sprang forward to offer their curtsies and bows.

“I’m Mrs. Brown, my lady. Would you and Lady Cecily care for a cool drink?”

“That would be most kind, Mrs. Brown.” Serena stepped out of the carriage and turned toward the eldest child. “And what would your name be?”

Shyly the girl looked up, still clutching the book as if it were precious. “Polly, my lady.”

“You were reading to the younger children?”

The child blushed. “No, ma’am. Just tellin’ stories to fit the pictures. The vicar’s wife gave me the book.”

Mrs. Brown bustled forward with two glasses of water. “My daughter’s the clever one,” she said proudly. “Mrs. Morton keeps saying she should learn her letters.”

Serena smiled at the little group. “Perhaps one day I can come back and hear a story, too. Thank you for the drink, Mrs. Brown. Is there anything you or Mr. Brown need for the coming winter?”

“Thank you, your ladyship. We’ll do just fine. Polly will help when the new babe comes.”

Polly seemed young to have that kind of responsibility, but Serena didn’t comment. On the way home in the landau she was silent, ordering her thoughts. As they reached the front door, abruptly she announced, “The vicar and his wife, the Mortons? They should come to tea directly.”

She presented her list to Mr. Stockton the next morning. After only the briefest of hesitations, he bowed. “As you wish, my lady. I shall see to it immediately.”

She waited until he left the room before collapsing into a deep wing chair in the library in thought. She’d once told Buckle she was fearful of the changes going on inside her. Could she have turned so completely from dutiful to demanding? What she required was necessary, though. If Blackwood were here, he would agree. Wouldn’t he?

Leaping to her feet, she shook off such feelings. She was simply following the path Blackwood and the Duchess of Avalon opened before her.

That path would have been most idyllic were it not for her fears for Blackwood in the next weeks as she and Cecily explored the Sussex Coast. Longford came and went as he pleased, going often to London and returning with news from the Peninsula, which was more often than not frightening. Even more upsetting was the absence of a letter.

Longford did not intrude on their pursuits, but occasionally joined them at dinner, and once attended service in the village with them.

The evening Serena invited the Reverend Morton and his hopeful family for an informal supper, Longford thrilled the three sons by showing them his horseflesh. Serena and Mrs. Morton reached an immediate understanding, and thereafter she became a great ally and a pipeline to the village.

As the autumn wore on, Serena and Cecily continued their visits to the tenants. Twice Serena kept her promise and returned to the Browns to participate in the storytelling. She learned to go slow with changes, allowing the people some time to accept her ideas.

That no further letters from Blackwood arrived was a constant dull ache. All she did for the estate and its people made her feel closer to him, but she yearned for more. The two messages she had received were already dog-eared from her constant rereading. She got into the habit of keeping a journal, thinking perhaps she would send it to him so he could see how her days were full of happiness and work.

Cecily was true to her word, staying until the chrysanthemum plant bore deep red blooms.

On the morning of her departure she hugged Serena tightly, tears standing in the dark chocolate eyes. “I shall miss you so! But before you know it, you’ll be at Avalon Hall for the holidays. Will you not be lonely without us?” she asked, with a frown marring her usual sunny countenance.

“Father and Buckle will arrive soon and stay until we journey together to Avalon Hall for Christmas. Besides, I still have decorating in the house and the redesigning of the gardens to complete.”

Cecily’s light, musical laughter caused Serena to smile. “Wait until Matt sees the wonderful changes you’ve made here. When next you write, please give him my love. And send my regards to Lord Kendall,” she added with a pert grin before disappearing into the carriage.

Serena looked up at Longford astride his stallion, waiting silently beside the carriage. He gave her that same enigmatic smile.