A Dangerous Melody, page 7
“But Miss Elizabeth’s lessons,” Miss Brown said. “Her routine.”
“She will be fine for a day or two,” Mr. Thorne said. “Won’t you, Elizabeth?”
Miss Elizabeth’s eyes were focused on Miss Brown. “Are you going to be well, Miss Brown?” she asked.
“Of course, dear,” Miss Brown said, kneeling before Miss Elizabeth. “I am quite all right. I do not even think I need to—”
“Miss Brown,” Mr. Thorne said with a hint of amusement.
“Yes,” Miss Brown said, rising to her feet. She looked over at me. “I suppose I shall leave her lessons to you for the day,” she said. “If that’s all right with you?”
“Oh,” I said, my cheeks coloring. “I suppose I could…”
“Very well,” Miss Brown said. “But not a day more than I need.” She turned and headed toward the door, stopping just as she was to step outside. “And thank you, Mr. Thorne, for your kindness.”
“You are quite welcome,” Mr. Thorne said.
As Miss Brown headed down the hall, we heard her sneeze, as well as moan with relief.
“Well,” Mr. Thorne said, turning to Miss Elizabeth and me. “I know that we should keep up with your lessons, my dear, but the weather is far too nice to pass up today. What say you to a walk in the gardens?”
“Oh, yes please, Father,” Miss Elizabeth said, nearly jumping on the balls of her feet, her skirts bouncing. “I would so very much like to be outside.”
“It is settled then,” he said, looking up at me. “And of course you will join us, right, Miss Honeyfield?”
My eyes widened as I stared at him. “Oh, you wish for me to join?” I asked.
“Oh, please, Miss Honeyfield,” she said, grabbing onto my hands and squeezing them. “It is such a lovely day. We mustn’t miss it.”
“Are you sure?” I asked. “You do not wish to spend the time with your father?”
“We can all be together,” Miss Elizabeth said.
I supposed I had no choice but to agree.
The weather truly was lovely as we stepped outside, and at once I was glad I had gone with them. It felt wonderful to stretch my legs. I could not remember the last time I was out of doors.
Miss Elizabeth was all too pleased to have a chance to run and play. Miss Brown always encouraged her to act like the young lady she was, even when she was outside, but I appreciated that she still recognized that Miss Elizabeth was a child and certainly needed time to allow her imagination to take over.
She ran along the path ahead of Mr. Thorne and me, leaving the two of us walking side by side in the morning sunlight.
As much as I had attempted to convince myself that the rumors about Mr. Thorne’s brother were not true, it was incredibly difficult to truly believe that now that he was standing beside me, walking along with me as if nothing had changed.
To him, nothing had changed, but it certainly made me wonder if he had heard the rumors that everyone was spreading about him.
“Miss Honeyfield,” Mr. Thorne said, startling me.
“Yes?” I asked, perhaps a bit too quickly.
“Do you believe that Miss Elizabeth’s lessons are progressing?” he asked, his hands clasped behind his back.
“Oh, yes,” I said. “Indeed, I do, sir. She has been doing very well. Every day when she comes to sit at the bench, she seems eager to learn and has been quite attentive.”
“That’s very good,” Mr. Thorne said. “And her behavior?”
“She has been the image of perfection,” I said. “Courteous, respectful, and even quite encouraging. She is frustrated when she makes mistakes, but it has been quite amazing to see that she then strives to correct those errors and always wishes to improve herself. It’s quite impressive.”
“That is wonderful news,” Mr. Thorne said. “I’m glad to hear that she has been maturing under the tutelage of you and Miss Brown.”
“Oh, I cannot claim to have done very much, Mr. Thorne,” I said. “Miss Brown truly is the one who has given Miss Elizabeth all she has learned.”
“Yes, but do you know the name I hear most often at night when she and I are seated in the drawing room together?” Mr. Thorne asks, a twinkle in his eye.
My eyes widened.
“Yours,” Mr. Thorne said. “It has been quite a long time since I have seen her quite as excited about something in such a long time.”
We came around a rather large tree with low hanging boughs. The shade was lovely, despite the fact that I was relishing the sunshine.
Mr. Thorne’s footsteps slowed to a stop, and I stopped as well.
Miss Elizabeth was standing before a carved stone statue in the middle of a beautiful garden that I had never seen before. The hedges surrounding it were perfectly manicured, and a large stone fountain was situated behind it, bubbling merrily in the sunlight.
I stared at the statue and realized it was the likeness of a woman. Or maybe, perhaps an angel. She stood in a very elegant, subdued manner, her eyes looking upward toward the heavens.
Miss Elizabeth was looking up at the statue, her arms hanging at her sides.
“I suppose I should have expected she would run here,” Mr. Thorne said in a subdued voice.
It was a quiet sort of place where one might come to walk and enjoy some peace. I would imagine sitting on the stone bench along the hedgerows with a book in hand, whiling away the afternoon.
“It is quite lovely,” I said.
“Lovely, perhaps,” Mr. Thorne said. “Yet a place of great sorrow, as well.”
I looked more closely at Miss Elizabeth, who was staring up at the statue. Her small frame was perfectly still, and I understood what Mr. Thorne meant. Miss Elizabeth’s joy could not be contained when she felt it; she would move and dance and sing.
To look at her now, though, it was as if she were experiencing some deep, long endured pain that I could only attempt to understand.
The statue, the garden, the overall feeling of reverence…
My heart fluttered.
“Is this, perhaps… where Mrs. Thorne was laid to rest?” I asked.
Silence greeted my question, and the only sounds I heard were the wind through the trees and the trickle of the fountain’s water.
“Yes,” said Mr. Thorne. “Before she passed, she requested to be buried here, at Northington Park. This was her home, her greatest joy.”
I turned to look at him, and I was startled by the hurt I saw so plain in his eyes.
“She said she wished to remain close to Elizabeth and me, so that we would always remember her love for us,” he said.
Miss Elizabeth’s face turned back toward us, her eyes wide yet not stained with tears like I had expected.
“I am ashamed to admit that it has been some time since we have come to pay our respects,” he said and began to walk slowly toward the statue.
I was uncertain about whether or not I should follow after. It was a rather intimate moment between father and daughter that I felt I might be intruding upon.
For several moments, I stood alongside the tree with the low-hanging boughs, the wind rustling through the leaves, watching Mr. Thorne and Miss Elizabeth.
Mr. Thorne laid his hand on Miss Elizabeth’s shoulder, and they stood together at the foot of the statue, as if having a moment as a family that had been long overdue.
“Miss Honeyfield!”
I looked down, hearing Miss Elizabeth’s voice calling out to me.
She waved me down toward them.
I hesitated, and it wasn’t until I saw Mr. Thorne turn and smile at me that I knew it was fine.
“This is my mother, Miss Honeyfield,” Miss Elizabeth said, pointing up at the poised carved woman in the stone. “She looks just like I remember.”
“She was very lovely,” I said.
She peered up at me. “Father says that no one would ever replace Mother, but he did say that one day I may have another woman who could take care of me like Mother would have.”
“I think that would be wonderful,” I said.
“Perhaps she will even love music like you do,” Miss Elizabeth said. “Or maybe she will share tea with me like you do, Miss Honeyfield. And I hope that she will smile at me and be patient with me like you are, Miss Honeyfield.”
I looked down at her, and my heart swelled with affection for the young girl. I smiled down at her. “Whoever she may be, I know that she will love you unconditionally.”
Miss Elizabeth seemed quite pleased by this, swinging on her father’s arm. “Father, let us continue on our walk. Mother always loved walks.”
“Indeed she did,” Mr. Thorne said.
Miss Elizabeth began to hum and skip along the path, further into the gardens.
Mr. Thorne watched after her, a steady look in his eyes.
“It must be terribly difficult for a girl as young as she is to lose her mother,” I said.
“It was,” Mr. Thorne said. “As I have said, I am not certain that she ever truly recovered. Part of her behavior may be easily traced back to Mrs. Thorne’s death.”
“How long ago did it happen?” I asked.
“Eight months,” Mr. Thorne said. “Though she was sick for much longer than that.”
I looked over at him. “What happened?”
He and I began up the path after Miss Elizabeth, away from the beautiful statue of Mrs. Thorne. “She was always a sickly sort of creature. Even when she was young and we were betrothed, it was uncommon for me to see her, as she had to be kept in her room. Her parents knew that our match would be advantageous, especially for her, and the choice had been made before I was even old enough to speak. She was always very kind, and as she grew, she became stronger. Soon, she was able to spend time out of doors, which was unheard of when she was a child. So when we were married and she was with child, all of the doctors were surprised. Some expected her to have difficulty. They were thrilled, and so were we. When she lost two others afterward, though, we began to worry that her health was taking another turn for the worse. Ultimately, that ended up being the truth.”
The sun was dipping lower toward the trees in the distance, and as we came around the front of the house, the light danced across the surface of the pond, causing it to shimmer.
“It is rather unfortunate, though, as deaths seems to be following my family these last few years,” Mr. Thorne said as we walked.
I felt a small twinge of worry as he said those words. “What do you mean by that?” I asked.
“I lost my brother a few years ago as well,” he said. “He was older than I and was to inherit Northington Park himself.”
I waited for him to supply more information, and when he didn’t, I frowned. “I’m very sorry, Mr. Thorne,” I said.
He gave me a tight smile. “You have nothing to apologize for.” He took a deep breath, straightening his shoulders. “What’s done is done, and there is nothing to be done about it.”
I looked away. The whispers of the servants filled my mind, the accusations that Mr. Thorne had been the one to end his own brother’s life out of jealousness.
It was hard to believe, hearing the way he so fondly spoke of his late wife, yet was it possible he wished to provide a better life for his sickly wife? It was not that preposterous to imagine, was it?
“Father!” Miss Elizabeth was standing in the drive, pointing excitedly behind her at the carriage that had appeared.
“I wonder who that could be,” Mr. Thorne said, taking longer strides toward the house.
We entered the foyer and were greeted by Mr. Gibbs. “Good morning, Mr. Thorne. Your guests are waiting for you in the drawing room.”
“Very good,” Mr. Thorne said, removing his gloves.
“And they requested the presence of Miss Honeyfield, as well,” said Mr. Gibbs.
My heart was once more like a bird trapped in a cage. I looked over at Mr. Thorne.
He smiled at me. “I believe that can be arranged.”
9
We climbed the stairs to the first floor, my heart in my throat. Who were these people that had come to call upon Mr. Thorne? And why were they asking me to join them?
I felt a small hand close around my own as we reached the landing. I glanced down to see Miss Elizabeth walking along beside me, her hand in mine.
“Do not be afraid, Miss Honeyfield,” she said with a smile. “I shall stay with you so you do not feel alone.”
I squeezed her hand. “Thank you, Miss Elizabeth. That makes me feel much better already.”
Mr. Thorne was speaking with Mr. Gibbs, too far ahead for me to hear clearly what they spoke of. Miss Elizabeth seemed all too happy to walk along with me. Perhaps that walk out of doors was all she needed to put her in a brighter mood.
We made it to the drawing room, and Mr. Thorne stepped inside just after Mr. Gibbs. I heard Mr. Gibbs announce Mr. Thorne’s arrival.
“And Miss Elizabeth,” said Mr. Gibbs as Miss Elizabeth entered the room.
I stepped up to the door, and Mr. Gibbs smiled at me. “And Miss Honeyfield.”
I don’t believe I was ever formally announced to a room, especially not so soon after the master of the house or his daughter.
I was just about to curtsey when my eyes fell on the couple who were already in the room.
“Lady Hayward,” I said, my eyes growing wide.
Aunt Patience smiled up at me from the armchair she sat in, and her husband, my Uncle Charles, nodded at me from behind the chair.
“Oh, there is my dear,” Aunt Patience said, holding out her hand to me. “It is so wonderful to see your face again.”
I was stunned to silence.
“Miss Honeyfield, you know Lady Hayward?” Miss Elizabeth asked.
“Yes, my dear. She is Miss Honeyfield’s aunt,” Mr. Thorne said.
Miss Elizabeth’s eyes widened. “I had no idea.”
“Sir Hayward, I am honored to receive you, especially on such a lovely day,” Mr. Thorne said with a bow. “What can a humble man like me do for you?”
“Well, we made a promise to my wife’s dear sister’s husband that we would go see his eldest daughter and ensure she was well,” Sir Hayward said with a smile in my direction. “We have received all of her letters, and it has given Lady Hayward much joy to hear about all that she and Miss Brown have been doing.”
“Yes, poor Miss Brown is feeling quite under the weather this morning, or I would introduce you,” Mt. Thorne said. “Though I can say with certainty that Miss Honeyfield has been paramount in my daughter’s education and happiness.”
“Well, isn’t that wonderful to hear?” Aunt Patience said with a glint in her eye.
I imagined she was quite pleased to hear that the arrangements she had made for me were working out as well as they were. I could tell from the way she glanced back and forth between Mr. Thorne and me.
“Miss Elizabeth, why don’t you tell Lady Hayward how much you are enjoying your music lessons?” Mr. Thorne said, laying a hand on his daughter’s shoulder.
Miss Elizabeth smiled and took a step toward my aunt. “Miss Honeyfield is teaching me how to be better player. I have learned so very much from her. She plays wonderfully, and I hope that I can play as well as she can one day.” She turned her smiling face toward me, and I recognized the playfulness in her eyes.
I smiled back at her. She meant to tease me, didn’t she?
“How wonderful,” Sir Hayward said. “I really must thank you again, Mr. Thorne, for taking Miss Honeyfield in. While her father and sisters miss her dearly, his burdens have been lighter, and he knows that she is doing her very best here to take care of her stead and make a difference.”
“It was no trouble at all,” Mr. Thorne said. “To be quite frank, I am not certain that my house would be the same without her any longer.”
Aunt Patience gave a girlish laugh. “Oh, Mr. Thorne, you must be careful, or Miss Honeyfield shall think that you were trying to win her heart.”
Mr. Thorne looked over at me, his eyes growing wide.
What a thing for Aunt Patience to say! Of all the forward, impudent, selfish things to say…
I expected to see frustration on his face, or disgrace. I even thought there might be anger toward me, as if he imagined I was the one who orchestrated this whole scenario just for her to say the very thing she just did.
And yet… I saw nothing like that. In fact, I saw a smile. A small smile, yet a smile, nevertheless.
“Mr. Thorne, I hope you do not think that we have come to disrupt your day for nothing more than seeking after the well-being of our niece, though that is of great importance, of course,” Sir Hayward said with a smile in my direction.
“Well, Sir, you and Lady Hayward are always welcome in my home, you know that,” he said.
“We appreciate it greatly, Mr. Thorne, but we came to discuss the ball that you spoke of earlier this summer,” Aunt Patience said.
Miss Elizabeth let out a small gasp. “A ball? Father, you did not tell me you meant to have a ball.”
Mr. Thorne nodded. “I do recall saying something about a ball,” he said. “Though this summer was so busy that I must admit, I had quite forgotten.”
“Oh, Father, we must have a ball before the winter comes,” Miss Elizabeth said, grabbing onto her father’s arm, gazing up into his eyes. “It will be the cheeriest way to prepare for Christmas, will it not?”
“I daresay it would be,” Mr. Thone said.
“And of course, you must invite Miss Honeyfield and her sisters, all of whom are unmarried,” Lady Hayward said, lifting her chin into the air ever so slightly. The look she gave Mr. Thorne was somewhat cool look.
I stared at her. How could she ask such a thing of Mr. Thorne? I was nothing more than a tutor. It wasn’t as if I was a young woman of a reputable home with any sort of connections to speak of.
“Well, of course,” Mr. Thorne said. “I should like to meet Miss Honeyfield’s sisters, and her father, as well. I would never deny my Lady the chance to invite her own family.” He gave her a bow.
“Wonderful,” Aunt Patience said. “When shall we have the ball?”
“I should think a weekend in October would be preferable. What say you, Lady Hayward?” Mr. Thorne asked.
