Page 25 of The Heart of Bennet Hollow
Callum leaned into the opportunity as he lowered his napkin to the table. “We’ll send for another pot of tea. In the meantime, would you like to see the books now, Jayne? I can show you to the study.”
Jayne hesitated.
Was that disinterest or caution in her delayed response?
“Certainly.” She rose and while William had a sense that Callum meant for a private stroll to the other end of the car, he could do nothing about the younger girls who shot up from their seats, murmuring at once as they followed in a chorus of ribbons and gingham.
Only he and Lizbeth remained seated. Lizbeth folded her hands, glancing from the lingering treats to the artwork on the walls. Her thumbs fiddled together nervously.
Not wanting to hold her back here alone, William set his napkin aside. “Shall we?”
She rose.
He motioned to the undiscovered end of the car where a second hallway led from the dining room to his study. “After you.” He followed behind her.
Together, they passed his private stateroom—his world, currently—hidden behind a solid door. She studied its grandeur in passing. What was it that she saw? Of this place... and of him?
He trailed her past his room and then the guest berth where Callum dwelled a number of weeks out of the year.
“This place is beautiful,” Lizbeth said over her shoulder. “You must enjoy your time here very much.”
“I do, thank you. It’s different than home, but I enjoy seeing new places.”
She touched the ornate wall molding, and he watched, enchanted, scarcely hearing her ask, “The kitchen? Is it at the other end?”
William cleared his throat. “Yes, it’s back the other way. If you’d allow me, I’d like to ask Cook to box up some of the remaining fare for you to take.”
“Oh, we couldn’t possibly...”
Such manners, and from someone who would have grown up rationing sugar and flour to make ends meet. “Consider it a token for your mother since she was unable to come. I’d hate for any of it to go to waste.”
Lizbeth’s eyes widened and she gave a small nod. “She’d be honored, I’m sure.”
It was settled then.
As they entered his study, her face tilted to the ceiling once more. Here, the second observation dome let in the warm glow of sunshine from above.
“Lady Light,” Lizbeth breathed softly. The whisper so faint that he nearly missed it.
Somehow her pleasure amplified his own. William had met people impressed with his wealth before, but this was different. Lizbeth didn’t seem in awe of his pocketbook, but instead, of the things that mattered most to him. The things that brought him joy. They seemed to bring her joy as well.
William slowed to a stop, trying to comprehend what to do with that.
What could he do? He’d known women who matched him in status, even in property, but never in sincere interests.
What did a man do when he encountered a woman who seemed to mirror him in such ways?
Especially when she came from a vastly different world.
He forced himself to study the floor instead of her face. What was happening to him?
William was grateful when the chatter of the others shook him to his senses.
Jayne and Callum sat in the reading chairs near the window while the others perused the study, admiring everything from the drapes to his desk where inside the center drawer lived a dozen telegrams from Miss Brydolf—urging him to remember his purpose back in Vermont.
His life. She wrote of the parties calling his name.
Employees and staff. Responsibility for him to make a sensible match with a good fortune. A woman like Miss Brydolf herself.
All missives that William regretted having not disposed of. He would soon.
Here at the very back of the car, he pulled the door open so the Bennets might venture out onto the balcony.
When Lizbeth glanced his way, William gestured to the bookshelf. “As promised.”
She soaked in the sight of his vast collection. “These are all yours?”
“All that I have with me when I travel.” He had hundreds more back home if he were honest. “I’ve collected them over the years. Some I inherited. Do you have a favorite genre?”
“Oh, just about anything.” She approached the nearest bookcase.
He motioned to the lower shelves. “These are all novels. Some classics. A few mysteries. A romance or two but none that I’ve read myself.”
She smirked. “I’d like to see one of those.” Lizbeth crouched and gently perused the titles with the tips of her fingers. “You have a copy of Jane Eyre ?” she asked in surprise.
“Do I?” When she chuckled again, he knelt to see what she saw. “I suppose I do.” He tugged the updated volume from its resting spot. “I have the original three volumes back home. I’d forgotten about this version.”
“You have the first editions?”
“Have you read the story?”
“No, but I’ve always wanted to.”
“Then please. Please take this one with you.”
“You’re lendin’ it to me?” There it was: more surprise.
Quite frankly, he wanted to give it to her, but feared shocking her further. “It’s been left unopened for far too long. Please.” He held it out.
With a slow breath, Lizbeth took the book and turned it in her hands. “I’d be honored. And I promise to take care of it.” Her copper-brown eyes lifted to his. “How long do you plan on stayin’ in New River?” She gulped. “Just so I know how quickly I ought to read.”
“Oh, well...” And all at once, he saw the map of New River in his mind. The borders of the land dispute that he’d yet to resolve—including her farm. The place she called home. The place where her mules lived and where she’d been born and raised.
A place on the brink of change.
Suddenly, one of the girls rushed out onto the balcony. “Oh, why hello, West!” Lacey hollered.
“Lacey, it’s not polite to shout,” Jayne said.
“But it’s West,” Lacey countered. “The man we met at the company store. He was awful friendly. No harm bein’ friendly in return.”
William moved to the door of the balcony as the man crossed the tracks.
Westgard waved to the ladies. “Good afternoon. We meet again!” Then to William, he touched the brim of his hat coolly.
William made no response. Especially when Lizbeth moved to his side.
Westgard halted and gave a chivalrous bow.
Without acknowledging him, William turned away.
He’d check on that second pot of tea. Perhaps Cook needed help clearing the table.
At his back, he could hear the cheerful words of Westgard and the ladies.
He searched the sounds for Lizbeth’s voice but heard only the excited croons and giggles of her sister Lacey.
Then Westgard murmured something, and William glanced back just long enough to see. Long enough to watch the way Lizbeth’s hand rested on the edge of the balcony as with deft movements, Westgard tied a piece of lace around her wrist.
Stomach tightening, William turned away and walked back down the hallway.
He’d just tucked the last of Lizbeth’s hand pies safely away when she returned to the dining room.
“Thank you again for the loan,” she said cautiously as though sensing his shifting mood. She worked to unravel the piece of lace from her wrist. Her cheeks were pink and he knew it was from more than just cold autumn air.
William fought the thunderclouds in his mind and forced a weak smile.
“And I’m sorry...” Lizbeth tucked the lace into her skirt pocket. “We didn’t get a chance to finish our conversation. How long until you’ll need the book back?”
Reality crashing down, William fought for the words. “A few more weeks, at most.” What had he been doing entertaining romantic ideas? He needed to clear his senses.
He’d come here for business. Nothing more. He’d do well to remember that.
They crossed the room in unison as Lizbeth said, “I’ll have it finished and returned to you by then. Thank you, Mr. Drake.”
He couldn’t tell if that was regret in her voice.
Or if it was his own sensibilities protesting the knowledge that a continued interaction between him and this young woman wouldn’t make sense for either of them.
She would one day be a memory of his past. Men like Westgard understood the kind of life she led and would long to lead.
One of home and hearth and more familiar things than his world of empty marble hallways and a dozen fireplaces needing to be lit each day.
William excused himself to find Cook. It was easier than being in a room alone with Lizbeth.
He sensed himself in for a sleepless night. Since he’d met this young woman, it would be one of many. All because of this riddle he couldn’t seem to solve. One sparked by the growing longing that she would stop thinking of him as Mr. Drake... and begin seeing him as William.