ToLoveaLady (34 page)

* * *

Sitting alone at breakfast, Cecily read through Charles’ note again.
My dearest Cecily. Please do me the honor of having dinner with me this evening. Words cannot adequately express my feelings, but I promise to make an attempt. I ask only your patience and understanding.

Not exactly words of love, but encouraging words, nonetheless. She felt a flicker of hope. She would do her part to make this evening a success. Now, what should she wear?

“Good morning, Cecily. You’re certainly looking radiant.”

She looked up and found Reg in the doorway. “Good morning, Reg. Did you sleep well?”

“As well as any condemned man, I suspect.” He helped himself to tea from the pot on the sideboard.

“What is that cryptic remark supposed to mean?”

“Nothing, my dear. Merely that the earl has charged me with taking a run-down ranch and making it a success. I can’t see it’s a task for which I’m particularly well-suited.”

“Then why do it?” She pushed a plate of half-eaten eggs and bacon away from her, too excited to eat.

Reg sat across from her. “You underestimate the earl’s power of persuasion,” he said. “It was either do this, or be cut off without a cent. At least here I’m an ocean away from him. And Charles seems to have done well enough.”

“Yes, I think Texas agrees with Charles.”

“And you. I don’t know when I’ve seen you looking lovelier.”

She laughed. “It must be six years since you’ve seen me. I imagine I’ve grown up a little in that time.”

He shook his head. “It’s not just age that’s improved your looks. There’s a different air about you, a new self-assurance, I think.”

She considered this. “I suppose being out on my own for a little has been good for me.”

“Good for all of us to leave home for a while, I dare say. Gives you a fresh perspective.”

“What are your plans for the day?” she asked.

“I suppose I ought to ride over and take a look at this new place the earl has saddled me with. Would you like to come?”

“Thank you, but no.” She had too much to do before this evening.

He took a bite of toast and chewed thoughtfully. “It’s probably just as well. The state he’s in, Charles is likely to think I’m moving in on his territory.”

What an odd thing to say. “What do you mean?”

He grinned. “I’ve never seen him so besotted with a woman.”

“Really?” The thought pleased her immensely.

“Yes, I can tell because, for the first time in memory, he’s at a loss for words.” He popped the last bite of toast into his mouth, drained his tea cup, and stood. “I’d best be on my way.”

When he was gone, she checked the clock on the mantle. Only a little after nine. Hours before she had to get ready for dinner. Perhaps she should have gone with Reg. How would she occupy herself all day?

She could go for a ride. And she needed some ribbon to trim a gown. She pushed back her chair and headed upstairs to change. Yes, she’d ride into town and go shopping. While she was there, she’d stop at the Academy and see if there was anything she could do to help there.

An hour later, Cecily stood on the threshold of her new classroom at the Fairview Academy. This was to be her room, where she would teach people to read and thus transform their lives. The prospect sent a shiver of anticipation up her spine. She stepped into the room, and trailed her gloved hand along the chair rail along each wall. The smell of new paint stung her nose, and sawdust swirled at her feet and caught in the hem of her trailing gown. In her mind’s eye, however, she saw the room clean and filled with furnishings, and with students. Hattie had shared the exciting news that eight people had already signed up for the class. Just think, eight people in whose lives she could make a difference.

“Excuse me, Lady Cecily?”

The words sounded as if they’d been spoken by a small child, but when she turned and looked toward the doorway, she found Caroline Allen standing there, head down, the picture of dejection. “Miss Allen, is something wrong?”

“Everything!” The girl raised her head to reveal reddened eyes and tear-stained cheeks.

“My dear, what is it?” Cecily hurried to the girl’s side.

Caroline’s lip trembled, and she bit it, as if in an effort to regain control. “It’s Danny,” she said after a minute. “Danny Fells.”

Cecily nodded, recalling all the bad things she had heard about Caroline Allen’s erstwhile beau. “Has Danny done something to hurt you?”

“Oh no!” Caroline shook her head so vigorously that the little silver loops she wore in her ears rattled. “Danny would never hurt me. He. . . he loves me.”

Tears spilled over from Caroline’s brown eyes. Taking pity, Cecily pulled her close. “If he loves you, then of course he wouldn’t hurt you,” she murmured. “A man doesn’t say those words lightly.”

Caroline drew back and dabbed at her eyes with an already sodden handkerchief. “Well, he never actually said the words. But. . . but I know he does.”

“How do you know?” The question popped out before Cecily could stop it. She didn’t mean to badger the child; she merely hoped for a clue that would guide her in her own romantic dilemma.

Caroline ducked her head, redness creeping up her neck to bloom in her cheeks. “He. . . we. . . did things. Love things.”

Cecily put a hand to her throat, thinking of the ‘love things’ she and Charles had done. But Caroline was just a child. She put a hand on the girl’s arm. “You. . . you’re not pregnant, are you dear?”

Caroline’s head came up, her eyes wide. “N. . . no!
 
I mean. . . he. . . he said it couldn’t happen the first time, and we only did it once.”

Cecily gathered the sobbing girl into her arms once more and stroked her head while waiting for the sobs to subside. She was pretty sure one could conceive one’s first time.
 
She’d thought often about the possibility that she was carrying Charles’s child within her, but she hadn’t the slightest idea what she would do if she was.

At last, Caroline’s sobs abated once more and she lifted her head. “Danny’s in trouble,” the girl said. “The sheriff arrested him for stealing cattle.”

Had Charles been right, then? Was Danny the thief? “Does the sheriff have any proof?” she asked.

Caroline ducked her head again. “Sheriff Grady says he caught Danny trying to sell a cow that weren’t his over in Hulltown.”

“That is fairly significant evidence, is it not?”

“He said he was selling it for a friend.” Caroline jutted out her lower lip in a pout.

Cecily put her hand under the girl’s chin and nudged it up until they were looking into each other’s eyes. “Do you believe him? Tell the truth, now.”

Tears puddled anew, spilling over and sliding down to dampen Cecily’s glove. “I don’t know what to believe anymore,” Caroline whispered.

Cecily released her and patted her back, then handed her a fresh handkerchief. “Danny has done what he has done and must suffer the consequences,” she said. “Now you must decide what you will do. Why did you come here, to see me?”

“I. . .I’m so confused.” Caroline blotted her eyes and shook her head. “The day I met you, you were so kind and. . . and you gave me good advice, I thought. I didn’t know where else to turn.”

“What about your father?”

“No!” The panicked look returned to Caroline’s eyes. “He never liked Danny. Sometimes. . . sometimes I think he doesn’t even like me anymore.”

“That’s not true.” Cecily brushed a stray lock of hair out of Caroline’s eyes. “Your father loves you very much. You’ve worried him, but if you can be woman enough to admit your error in judgment, he would like nothing better than to help you.”

Caroline hesitated, then nodded. “How could I have been so wrong? I thought Danny. . . I never thought he was a thief! I don’t want anything to do with men, ever again!”

The girl’s voice rose to a tremulous whine and Cecily feared another flood of tears. She grabbed the girl’s wrist and shook her. “You must be strong, Caroline. And you mustn’t let one man’s wrongdoing sour you on all men. There are good, kind men in this world, and one day you will find one of them who will love you for the worthy young woman you are.”

“But how will I know he really loves me? How will I know I love him?”

The answer came to Cecily as a gift; not just an answer for Caroline, but the solution to he own dilemma as well. “Your heart will tell you what your head cannot.”

Caroline closed her eyes, her lips moving silently as she repeated this advice. “I. . . I’ll try to remember. But what do I do in the meantime?”

Cecily patted your hand. “Go to your father. Remember that he does love you. No matter what.”

“All right. I will.” She stepped back, then leaned forward and planted a kiss on Cecily’s cheek. “Thank you,” she whispered, then fled, her feet making soft tapping noises on the wood floor as she ran.

Cecily listened until only silence echoed in her ears, then folded her arms and hugged herself. “Your heart will tell you what your head cannot,” she repeated. Which begged the question, what was her heart trying to tell her?

* * *

Charles was leaving the sheriff’s office when Mr. Perkins scurried up to him, waving a yellowed sheet of paper. “Telegram for you, Mr. Worthington,” he announced, so loudly that everyone on the sidewalk turned to stare.

Charles frowned. “A telegram? From whom?”

“It’s all the way from England!” Perkins spoke as if the message had arrived from the moon.

Charles took the folded paper and stared at it. He was tempted to throw it away, unread. No doubt, it was full of more demands for him to return home at once.

Then he saw the name scrawled next to the word
sender:
Camden Worthington. A chill knifed through him. Why was his youngest brother, a vicar in Sussex, sending him a telegram?

He tore open the envelope and scanned the message:

Father taken ill. Situation grave. He asks for you.

Reg’s words of the night before came back to haunt him. Their father, always fierce and robust, was an old man now. Frail, even. He read the few words of the message again. It was just like Cam not to ask Charles to come, only to report that the earl asked for him. “When is the next train for the coast?” he asked Perkins.

“Two o’clock, sir.” He glanced at the paper in Charles’s hand. “Is it bad news?”

“My father has taken ill.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, sir. Is there anything I can do?”

“No thank you, Mr. Perkins.” He folded the telegram and tucked it into his coat. “I must get back to the ranch and tell Cecily and Reg.”

“Lady Cecily was just in my store.”

“She was?”

“Yes sir. She bought some ribbon. Said she was headed over to the Academy to see if she could help any with setting up the classrooms.”

“Thank you, Mr. Perkins.” He touched his hat brim in farewell, then mounted his horse and rode over to the Academy. The exterior complete, workmen were busy putting the finishing touches on the inside. As Charles passed through the open front door, the smells of fresh paint and sawdust filled his head. He negotiated a maze of plasterers and painters and found Cecily in a back room, measuring windows.

She turned toward him, smiling. “Isn’t it wonderful, Charles? This is to be my classroom.”

He stepped over a bucket of paint and moved into the room. “You got the job, then?”

“Yes. And eight students have already enrolled for adult education classes.” She turned and gestured toward the back of the room. “I think I’ll put the students here and have my desk here, and bookshelves over here. . .”

He looked at her, not listening so much as memorizing her every sigh and gesture. He had never seen her so animated, so alive. She was beautiful as only a woman in love could be. But Cecily was in love with the idea of teaching. The thought was a heavy weight in his gut. What would she say now if he asked her to return to England with him, to give up her dream for an uncertain future with him?

“I’m so excited, I’m quite beside myself.” She laughed. “I could run on for hours and never let you get a word in. Did you need me for anything?”

He hesitated. “About dinner tonight. . . “

Her expression softened. “Thank you for the flowers, and the note. I. . . I’m looking forward to tonight.”

“I’m sorry, Cecily, but I won’t be able to keep our date.” Not wanting to see her disappointment, he avoided looking at her, and took the telegram from his pocket. “I just received this.”

She took the telegram and read it, her former gaiety replaced by concern. “Oh Charles. I’m so sorry. Did Reg mention anything about your father being ill?”

He shook his head. “Only that he seemed frail when he saw him last.”

“When will you be leaving?”

“There’s a train to the coast at two. From there I can book passage on a ship to London. With luck, I’ll be home in a week or so.”

She returned the telegram to him, her face grave. “Will you be returning to Texas?”

“I don’t know. I hope so, once my father is on the mend.”