Louise M. Gouge Read Online Free

Miss Newfield in conversation. What topic might a vicar’s daughter find interesting? In fact, what might any young lady wish to discuss? Edmond had never perfected the art. As a younger son, he had met with young ladies’ turned backs more often than the friendly faces they offered his titled eldest brother. That painful memory dampened his spirits. Like any man, he wished to marry one day, but until he established himself in a lucrative profession, no Society lady would welcome his attentions. And he could hardly blame them. Why, even a poor gentlewoman like Miss Newfield deserved a husband who could adequately support her. Had no such gentleman resided in Blandon? Surely someone had aspired to win the hand of such a fair prize. Were they of like social rank, he might be tempted to court her himself after he regained his health.
    * * *
    Anna’s prior experiences in wheeled conveyances were limited to clattering dog carts and bumpy hay wagons. In contrast, the viscount’s roomy carriage had cushioned velvet seats and large wheels on springs that rolled over the rutted highway more smoothly than she ever imagined. It swayed almost like a cradle, lulling her toward the solace of sleep, for she was weary in body and numbed by her many losses. But sleeping might be considered rude. In an effort to shake off her drowsiness, she took deep breaths and peered through the wide windows to view the changing scenery from fields to forests to villages and back to fields again. Harvest was underway in all parts of Shropshire, and the scents of apples and newly mown hay filled the brisk autumn air all along the route.
    Mrs. Brown sat beside Anna, her knitting needles clicking softly in time with the rumbling wheels. Across from them, Matthews slumbered against the padded carriage wall. Beside him, Major Grenville grimaced from time to time, then schooled his face into a milder expression. At these brave attempts to mask his pain, Anna’s heart went out to him. Perhaps she could distract him from his misery by engaging him in conversation.
    What did one say to an army officer, an aristocratic gentleman whose titled brother sat in Parliament? Should she even begin a conversation with someone of his rank? In fact, the thought of meeting such an august person as the viscount set her nerves on edge. That was nonsense, of course. Did not the scriptures teach that all were equal in Christ? But while she might believe it, she had often heard that the aristocracy and, even more, the nobility considered themselves far above other mortals. She would soon find out whether Lord Greystone and his mother, the viscountess, held that opinion. Furthermore, Anna could not guess what being a lady’s companion entailed. She hesitated to ask the major, lest such questions be deemed improper.
    One subject did come to mind that she would venture to address.
    “Major, would you mind—”
    “Miss Newfield, are you—”
    They spoke at the same time, each stopping midsentence.
    “Pray continue, Miss Newfield.” He smiled and waved his hand for her to proceed.
    “I thank you, sir.” Anna’s cheeks warmed at his courtesy. “I wonder if you could tell me more about my brother. He is not one to write home, although we did hear from him just after he arrived in Detroit last year.”
    Instantly she regretted her question, for the major frowned and gazed out the window as if he had not heard her. After a moment, he turned back, his eyes filled with kindness.
    “I met Lieutenant Newfield upon his arrival. He was a charming lad, full of good humor and laughter. You must have grown up in a merry and loving household, madam, for he always made light of any difficulty.” Pain, which she sensed was more emotional than physical, shot across his features.
    “That’s our Master Peter.” Mrs. Brown looked up from her knitting, her eyes misty. “The whole village loved him in spite of his boyish pranks. The mischief was never wicked, you understand, just meant to