Page 24 of The Heart of Bennet Hollow

William owed Cook a kiss on the cheek for the wonder she’d woven in the galley.

The woman helped throw grand parties and balls back home, but with staff beneath her command.

How she pulled off such a spread, and alone at that, he didn’t know, but she’d laid out a miraculous offering as though Marie Antoinette were among their numbers.

William gladly waited as the Bennet girls stood awestruck by the sight, his attention catching on Lizbeth.

He forced himself to divert his gaze from her awed face to where Cook had placed fluffy meringue rosettes, dyed a pale pink and baked to a delicate crisp.

She’d unboxed the chocolates he’d ordered from New York and tucked truffles and colorful marzipan in between her own baked goods.

To witness the splendor through the eyes of his company was a reward that William had never quite experienced before.

He admired their faces—in particular, Lizbeth’s.

That’s when he noticed the basket she clutched in nervous-looking hands.

“May I help you find somewhere to set that?” He asked, unsure how to begin.

Lizbeth blushed. “We brought hand pies.”

The span of his chest warmed at the endearing way she said that. As though it were a confession and not a gift.

“Allow us to add them to the table.”

The color in her cheeks deepened as she handed over the willow basket. Cook entered and, seeing the predicament, made room at the edge of the table, but William stopped her.

“Perhaps here,” he whispered, touching the center cake stand where a toffee layer cake brimmed with gold leaf and trimmings.

Cook nodded. “Of course.” With deft hands, the dear woman swapped out the place of honor for Lizbeth’s own pastries.

William watched Cook display each hand-cut pie with care. The rustic edges were shaped with the tongs of a fork and one or two had a drip of dried blackberry sauce oozing from the center. William admired the homey sight, already knowing which dessert he would enjoy first.

Finished, Cook placed her own cake at the table’s edge with a wink and vanished. Now Lizbeth’s cheeks were redder.

Had he done the wrong thing?

“I trust you’ve all brought an appetite,” Callum blurted.

William closed his eyes.

One of the younger girls giggled and William looked up to see that all the sisters were smiling. Even Lizbeth’s ease returned. Callum chuckled and William’s brow loosened. The man knew how to ease the tension after all.

“Please, have a seat,” Callum said. “We’re so grateful you could join us today.

” He pulled out the chair nearest him for Jayne, who sat.

The other girls followed suit along with William.

Relieved—and needing something to do with his hands—he lifted a tray of finger sandwiches, which were each tied with a strand of chives like tiny presents.

He handed the tray to the girl beside him. “I’m afraid I don’t know each of your names.”

The giggling girl touched fingertips to her mouth. “I’m Lacey.” She took the offering and, using her elbow, indicated the sister beside her. “This here’s Kit.”

“And I’m Maryanne,” a girl declared from across the table. She appeared to be the most plain and practical of the group.

“And of course you’ve met Jayne.” Lacey—the outspoken one—passed the tray to her sister who sat the closest to Callum. “And that’s Lizzy.” Lacey tossed a nod to the young woman whose name and face William had already memorized.

“Lizzy,” he repeated softly. A nickname. Yet one more stanza in the poem of her upbringing. A poem he wanted to know more about.

Needing to busy his hands, he removed the lid on a small silver pot of clotted cream. “And I’m William.” He noticed Callum straighten in surprise. Yes, it seemed high time they use their given names. The formality of Mr. Drake and Mr. Brydolf didn’t fit the day.

“Right. I’m Callum.” The man’s attention landed on Jayne again. “I do hope you’ll all call me that.”

Jayne smiled softly. “Certainly.”

Beside her, Lizbeth looked pleased at their exchange. But was Jayne intrigued by Callum to the same degree? Could it be shyness William saw in her slight glimpses to the man at her side? Or aloofness? Rather difficult to discern, but for his friend’s sake, William meant to try.

From across the table, one of the younger sisters—Lacey, he recalled—stared up at his Aunt Catherine’s ornate portrait.

“I assure you, she’s quite harmless,” William promised. “Especially at a distance.”

The girl smiled.

The tray of sandwiches went around the table as each young woman politely took a single one.

Cook had prepared a luncheon fit for a palace, so William forced himself to speak again.

“Please don’t be shy. We’d hate for any of this to go to waste.

” He reached for a ripe strawberry and piled several onto his plate to second the point.

Lizbeth exchanged a glance with Jayne, along with the others.

All at once, their joy brightened the room and they perused the table with all the excitement he had hoped for.

Feminine hands reached for tarts and pastries, cookies and candies.

The porcelain plates centered in front of each cane chair were soon filled with delicacies, and William found it easier to settle in and relax.

He broke one of Lizbeth’s hand pies in half. Indeed worthy of the first bite—it melted in his mouth. Sweet, buttery, and comforting. Like a walk through the woods in summer. He sensed Lizbeth’s attention from the corner of his eye and didn’t dare look her way.

Instead, he pondered yet another line of the poem that was taking shape.

Amid the chatter and delights, Callum launched a conversation about horses of all things. “Do any of you enjoy riding?” he asked.

“We don’t have horses anymore,” Lacey announced. “But we used to. Pa sold ’em along with some mules a few years back to make ends meet.”

Jayne nervously brushed fingertips over her forehead, and judging by Lacey’s sudden jolt, someone had poked her under the table.

“But we’ve got a couple of mules still,” Lacey blurted, steering the conversation away from finances. “Well, just two now.”

A shadow crossed over Lizbeth’s face but before William could make sense of it, Kit piped in.

“Pa and Lizzy used to raise ’em and Pa sold most of ’em to the mine. Remember that, Lizzy?”

The very woman nodded somberly.

Kit pressed on. “All’s left are Sassafras and Eugene. They’re awful stubborn creatures and Eugene can’t hear half the time, but Lizzy does most of the work.”

“Does she?” William had to fight the urge to look at her again.

Already, he’d memorized the thoughtful tilt of her face beneath the brilliance of the observation dome and the crown of braids that she must have spent some time on.

Her dress was the same as the night they’d danced, except now it wasn’t his hand to her waist, but instead, his hand to his knee where he fidgeted with his napkin.

She was no stranger now. While he didn’t know her well, there lingered a familiarity about her that was working its way into his awareness. Burrowing in deep. He didn’t know what to do about that.

“And what of your horses?” Lacey asked Callum.

“Sadly my stables sit too empty these days,” Callum confessed. “It’s my friend here who is the true aficionado. Tell them, William.”

William shifted in his chair. “I’ve got around a dozen horses on my estate in Vermont.

Lovely animals. Easy to work with and a pleasure to ride.

” He broke his determination and caught sight of Lizbeth’s face just as it lifted in wonder.

“And I have a thoroughbred. A racehorse,” he continued.

“Sired by a horse named Fortuitous. My aunt’s prized stallion.

My own horse is three years old. Rarely wins, but she’s a sight to behold. ”

“Why doesn’t she win?” Lacey asked.

“She’s much too taken with napping on the lawn. The mare, that is... not my aunt.”

The girls all giggled.

“And I employ a jockey with a soft heart.”

“May we ask the filly’s name?” Lizbeth reached for the teapot that her younger sister set aside.

William moved it nearer for her, and their fingers nearly touched. “Lady Light.”

Lizbeth’s expression stayed soft. “She sounds lovely.”

“She is rather. But please don’t make any bets on her.” He pulled his hand back into his lap. “You’d do better with a straight bet on anyone else.”

This sent laughter around the dining room and William’s mouth tipped up in a slight smile. He didn’t make jokes often, and probably wouldn’t attempt any for the rest of the day, so the effect was pleasant.

Lizbeth’s eyes were still laughing and her tone sweet as she said, “I’ll remember that the next time I’m at the races.”

William knew full well they’d never witness a derby race in these parts, and she, a loyal lover of such animals. “I hope one day you’ll see her for yourself.”

He didn’t know why he said it. Nor had he reasoned with the implication.

Her surprised gaze lingered on his own. “I’d like that.”

William cleared his throat as this strange and growing sentiment threatened to distract him further. He reached for the pot of tea himself and filled his cup.

Lacey plucked bright green fruit from a tray. “Are these what I think they are?” She popped one in her mouth.

“Grapes.” Callum gleaned several as well. “We had them brought in from California.”

“Truly?” Lizbeth whispered. She reached for one and this time, William didn’t hide his gaze as he witnessed her enjoy the fruit, perhaps for the first time in all her life.

Lizbeth closed her eyes for the briefest of moments.

“Oh, they’re splendid!” Lacey plucked several more from the vine.

“Everything is,” Jayne seconded softly. “And the tiny cakes are so delicious.”

William nodded his appreciation. “I’ll pass your compliments on to Cook. She outdid herself.”

“Please do.” Jayne admired the spread that was still so abundant, they could each eat for days.