Page 16 of Estelle’s Ardent Admirer (The Bookshop Belles #1)
CHAPTER 16
A Picnic with Felix
E stelle could not hear precisely what Lord Ferndale and Felix were talking about, but she had a fair idea she was the topic of their conversation, as both of them kept casting furtive glances in her direction. Certainly, neither of them were experts in subtlety… or lying. She did not for one moment believe any of their horses were lame. Not at Ferndale. They had too many good people caring for their livestock and most likely horses to spare even if one was sore. But she couldn’t possibly offend them after they’d gone to such trouble to make sure she was comfortable.
She’d stayed in a room where a Duke had previously slept? No wonder she’d slept so restfully. Thank goodness nobody had been in that room for enough time that the chance of bedbugs was nil.
Felix and Lord Ferndale were standing by the window with their heads together, no doubt plotting a delightful ruse of some kind. She could not be cross with them for seeking a little fun in life. It took a great deal of effort and co-ordination to oversee the estate. If they found ways to create moments of joy along the way, it made life that much more pleasant.
She adored their company, and that of Miss Yates. And she felt completely welcomed by the staff, who were so kind and respectful. Alas, it only served to make her feel more guilty for abandoning her sisters to dealing with the bookshop on their own.
What if more accounts had arrived?
What if Cousin Joshua had?
As if hearing her thoughts, Felix turned his golden head and smiled her way. “Miss Baxter, it appears we’ll be in for another beautiful day. Shall we have the staff prepare us a picnic?”
Estelle couldn’t remember the last time she’d indulged in such a lovely pastime. And when might she get another chance? She shoved down her feelings of guilt.
Just one more day. She’d allow herself that.
“Thank you, that is so thoughtful of you. I’d be delighted.”
Lord Ferndale nudged Felix with his elbow.
What were those men planning?
She found out soon enough when she followed Felix on the delightful walk past garden beds of annuals that extended down to the lake. He carried no picnic basket, which had her wondering if that part had simply been an excuse to walk in this direction?
They arrived at the boathouse and found the staff were setting up an idyll under a willow tree that grew by the lake. Felix directed her to the short jetty, where a rowboat was fitted out with blankets and cushions and a large parasol to keep the sun off her face.
It was superb, and she kept thinking she must be dreaming because it was so perfect.
Felix held out his hand to help her into the boat. Warmth spread through her veins at his kind and gentle touch, and she took her sweet time letting go of it. The boat under them rocked a little, but soon Felix was sitting opposite. He opened the parasol for her as they would soon be moving out into the middle of the lake, where the shade didn’t reach.
Estelle rested into the seat and dangled her hand out the side, the water tickling her fingers. If there was a better definition of bliss, she was yet to find it. She spent the next few moments committing everything to memory. The smell of recently cut grass in the air, the warmth of the day, the handsome, golden-haired gentleman gently rowing them about. As they made their way out into the sun, the parasol did its job. However, Felix and his golden curls were in the full sun. To her delight, he removed his jacket, then rolled up his shirt sleeves to display a set of impressively bronzed forearms. She should not be so fixated, but she had the feeling he was putting himself on display for her, and her alone, as he pulled on the oars and his muscles surged.
She could not stop the grin of happiness creasing her cheeks. The urge to look back to the Hall and see if Lord Ferndale or Miss Yates were watching them was strong, but she resisted, preferring to gaze upon Felix.
“This is delightful, I thank you,” Estelle said. She’d had so few times in her life to truly relax and wallow in little luxuries. She banished all thoughts of the bookshop from her head. Even Crafty was forgotten for a moment.
Felix rowed them to a secluded spot behind some trees, blocking out any sight of Ferndale Hall or the staff assembling their picnic.
He set the oars and they floated for a while in serenity.
Felix then reached for his jacket and Estelle sighed, realising he might cover his arms again and his beautiful display would be over.
He did not. Instead, he fetched something out of the pocket and moved carefully on the boat, keeping balance to stop it rocking too much. Then he positioned himself before her on his knees.
Estelle sat up straight and dropped the parasol. Luckily it fell into the boat and not the water.
The boat rocked a little at her sudden movement, but they soon steadied themselves. If only her heartbeat would settle as quickly! Her pulse filled her ears and blocked out his words. He was saying something very earnest indeed, as he held out a pearl bracelet that looked very old. Like it might be a Ferndale heirloom.
Time slowed. She swallowed and her ears popped. She could hear his words at last and the most important sentence reached her ears.
“... honour of marrying me?”
Her throat turned dry. Her face warmed with delight and embarrassment. He must have made such a pretty speech and she’d barely heard any of it.
“I am hoping this has not come as a complete surprise?” he said, his expression falling.
Oh dear, he thought she was turning him down? “No.”
“Is that ‘no’ because it’s not a surprise or … ‘no’ to the other very important question?” He looked quite anxious as he awaited her answer.
“Give me a moment to catch my breath,” she managed. She wanted this moment to be perfect. The beautiful day, the sparkling light dancing on the lake, the golden man who she’d now seen twice without a shirt on, this incredible estate … and yes, the money and security that came with it. Everything she could possibly want or need in life, now and in the years to come, was being offered to her. Her feelings for Felix were real. They were good feelings, and if not love, she was beginning to think they were getting very close to that destination.
All I need to do is marry this very handsome, lovely, joyful man.
Considering the benefits their marriage would bring to her sisters and how happy it would make everyone - and she included herself in that - it would be selfish and dimwitted if she turned him down.
“Yes,” she said. “Yes, Felix Yates, I will marry you.”
Felix sagged in relief, rocking the boat.
They both laughed together with relief and happiness once the boat steadied again.
Felix was still holding out the bracelet for her and said, “I honestly thought my heart would stop, and I’d read the situation very poorly.”
“Not at all. I simply needed to memorise everything about this moment.”
“I certainly won’t forget it in a hurry,” he said as he looped the bracelet about her wrist and secured the catch. Her skin virtually glowed with it there, the heirloom pearls gleaming. Sunshine filled her. Felix then held her hand in his and kissed her fingers. He looked up at her from under his lashes and her heart flipped.
Carefully, so as not to rock the boat too much, they reached for each other and sealed her acceptance with a kiss.
Warmth bloomed in Estelle at the contact. For as long as she lived, she would never forget this magical moment.
“I do love you so terribly much,” he said with a shaky breath as they ended the kiss. “I shall make it my life’s work to ensure your continued happiness.”
She held his handsome face in her hands and kissed him again for good measure. Their lips fit so perfectly together. Made for each other.
“You have already brought me a great deal of happiness. It will be no hardship at all to be your wife, Felix Yates.”
The picnic passed in a blur of happiness, as the staff had set out everything and then made themselves scarce. They did not eat much, being content to simply spend time with each other and enjoy the bliss of the moment.
And so many more kisses.
They ended the meal early and Felix found a couple of staff on the other side of the small boat shed. He said they should enjoy themselves with what remained.
Estelle held Felix’s hand and they walked together back to the Hall to give Lord Ferndale and Miss Yates their excellent news.
To Estelle’s joy, Lord Ferndale was delighted, and Miss Yates hugged and kissed them both. They even pretended to be surprised at the development, claiming it was “so sudden”, though she was quite certain they’d been well aware of Felix’s plans. Felix had probably had to get that heirloom bracelet out of Lord Ferndale’s safe-chest to present to her.
They celebrated with some wine and sherry from the cellars and Lord Ferndale made a toast to the happy couple.
Lord Ferndale said, “You will make an excellent mistress of Ferndale Hall. And I’m glad Felix saw fit to present you with the bracelet.”
“It is beautiful. I shall treasure it always,” Estelle said.
“That was my grandmother’s bracelet,” Miss Yates said to Estelle. “Lady Elizabeth. That’s her in the portrait there, the golden-haired woman who looks like Felix. He thought it was very fitting that you should have it.”
“I am so honoured, Miss Yates.” Estelle wanted to cry at how much the bracelet symbolised her acceptance into the family.
“Oh please, we are as good as family now. Call me Aunt Florence.”
Estelle thought she might shed real tears of happiness. Her face was aching from smiling so much.
“Come with me,” Aunt Florence said quietly to Estelle as Felix and Lord Ferndale were busy patting each other on the backs. “I have something else for you, my dear.”
Estelle was quite happy to oblige. She followed Miss Yates upstairs to the first floor, and then on up another flight of stairs. Then Miss Yates led her down a narrow corridor and unlocked a door at the end of it which proved to lead to yet more stairs.
It was just as well Estelle had not had too much wine, with so many stairs to climb, and then they’d have to climb back down them.
“Wherever are we going?” Estelle asked curiously as Miss Yates began to ascend.
“The attics. There’s something here I’d like you to have.”
Estelle doubted any room in Ferndale Hall was allowed to get too dusty, but the attics certainly showed signs of not being much used. The air up here felt still and thick with age, the few pieces of furniture covered in Holland cloths, trunks and boxes stacked against the walls.
“Over here.” Miss Yates beckoned Estelle over to a large, leather-bound trunk. “Help me lift the lid, there’s a dear.”
Together they unbuckled the leather straps and lifted the lid, and Miss Yates pulled away a plain length of white linen lying on top of the contents. “There,” the old lady said in a satisfied tone. “Perfectly good.”
The trunk was made of cedar, and smelled a little of camphor, obviously used to keep moths at bay. Estelle blinked down at the contents for a moment, before she realised what she was seeing.
“Is that silk , Miss Yates?” Folded lengths of silk, in more than a dozen colours and shades, some plain, some figured or embroidered, all very, very expensive in Estelle’s estimation.
“Indeed it is. Fifty years old, this year, but never used.” Miss Yates lifted out a length of emerald-green silk and unfolded it, showing that there must be at least eight yards of the fine fabric. It rippled and shone in the sunlight pouring in through the attic window and illuminating a path of dust motes.
“Wherever did it come from?” Estelle asked.
“It was meant for my trousseau.” Miss Yates smiled a little sadly, before reaching out to wrap the emerald silk around Estelle, draping it in the semblance of a gown.
“Oh.” Estelle didn’t want to pry, but Miss Yates told her anyway.
“I was engaged once. A lovely young man I met in London. He asked me to marry him on a bright summer’s day, very much like this one. We planned to marry at Michaelmas and my mother took me to London; we bought this silk on that day and brought it home, planning to make up new gowns for my life as a married woman. But before we even had the chance to begin cutting it up, the news came; my Henry fell from his horse at the first hunt of the season and… passed.”
“I’m so sorry,” Estelle said softly. Life could be so cruel, no matter how much comfort a person was born into.
Miss Yates picked up another length of silk, this one a golden yellow, and held it against her. Her faded blue eyes were far away, lost in memories of another time.
“I could have married another,” she said, and her tone was one of reassurance rather than bragging. “I had opportunities and proposals, but none of the gentlemen made my heart beat fast the way my Henry did.” Miss Yates draped the golden silk around her shoulders and smiled, and in the curve of her lips and the high arch of her cheekbones Estelle could see the great beauty Florence Yates must have been, fifty years ago.
“My brother never pressed me, and he and dear Emily, God rest her soul, never made me feel as though I should have to leave Ferndale. I have had a good life, Miss Baxter, don’t feel sorry for me. But this silk has been lying unused long enough. I want you to have it, else it will only moulder away in here for another fifty years!”
There was no possible way Estelle could decline, not after that poignant story. Instead, she stepped forward, opening her arms, and Miss Yates accepted the embrace, resting her head on Estelle’s shoulder. They stood there, hugging tightly in their wrapped yards of silk, until a cleared throat at the stairwell made Estelle smile.
“Did you really follow us up here, Felix?” she asked.
“I can barely stand to have you out of my sight for more than a few minutes,” he admitted cheerfully. His words had her grinning so much she would ache for a week.
Felix stepped closer, gazing at them wide-eyed, and asked, “Whatever is all this?”
“My wedding gift to your bride,” Miss Yates said briskly, letting go of Estelle. Estelle pretended she didn’t see the older woman wiping at her eyes. “Doesn’t she look absolutely marvellous in that green, Felix? Brings out the green in her eyes.”
“I adore Estelle in green,” he agreed, “though I admit I have never seen her look less than beautiful in any colour. I do believe she could even successfully pull off wearing a burlap sack.”
“Burlap, indeed!” Miss Yates huffed, smiling fondly at him. “Nothing but the finest for the future Lady Ferndale, you cheeky wretch!”
“It certainly looks like it,” Felix agreed, taking a look inside the trunk. His eyebrows flew up, and his gaze slid sideways to Estelle. She could see him mentally calculating the value of what was in that trunk.
It was tempting - oh so tempting - to think about selling the silk, or at least some of it. She could pay the eighty pounds to the bank straight away if she did, but Estelle would not insult Miss Yates so. The gift wasn’t meant for that.
“There must be enough silk for twenty gowns here,” she said thoughtfully. “Would it be all right with you, Miss Yates, if I had a gown or two made for each of my sisters as well?”
Miss Yates made a funny tisking sound, as if the question was silly. “Of course you may, my dear; what a delightful thought! And you will need cotton and muslin enough for petticoats and linings too; purchase it at the drapery and I will send them a note that the account is to be given to me.”
Estelle tried to demur, but every thing she said only seemed to inspire Aunt Florence and Felix to further generosity. The more she tried to steady them into being sensible, the more the two of them became more determined to heap largesse on her.She had to keep pinching herself to avoid becoming caught up in this new world of pretty things, when her reality in Hatfield was anything but.
By the time they had descended the attic stairs again and Felix had sent two footmen up to bring down the trunk, Miss Yates had somehow also declared that she was purchasing as many new shoes, gloves and hats as Estelle might possibly need to go with her new gowns, and enough for her sisters too.