Louise Gouge - A Proper Companion

Somewhere at the edges of her mind, she heard the cry of Job: The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away; blessed be the name of the Lord. She grasped this lifeline like a drowning person. Blessed be the name of the Lord. This would be her hymn, her anthem, no matter what other sorrows befell her.

Friends hovered near. The major sat beside her and patted her hand.

“Dear Miss Newfield—”

“I thank you, sir.” Her own voice sounded far away. “For bringing word.” A tendril of hope threaded through her thoughts. “Missing, you say?”

“Unfortunately, yes.” The officer leaned toward her. “You must know that I had no idea your father had died. I came to bring him word of Newfield and—”

“Missing. That means there is hope he is alive.”

Major Grenville’s expression softened, and he spoke as if addressing a child. “You must understand …” He sat back and shook his head. “Perhaps you need not know of such things.” He returned a warm gaze to her and squeezed her hand. “We will hope, madam. We will hope.”

The strength of his grip surprised Anna, as did the high color now flooding his pale face. He seemed to be making a great effort to console her, and she longed to return the kindness. “Major, the ladies of Blandon have prepared a funeral nuncheon. Will you and your companion partake?”

His brow furrowed, but his companion’s face brightened. “’Twould be good to have a bite before we embark on the rest of our journey, sir.”

The major eyed his aide. “I agree, Matthews. And I thank you, Miss Newfield. Your brother often spoke of your kind nature. I see it was not merely fraternal pride.” His well-formed face, framed by natural chestnut curls, relaxed into a soft smile.

A wave of understanding swept through Anna. Peter had risked his life to save this friend, and that knitted him to her in a way she could not describe.

* * *

Weakness and weariness threatened to fell Edmond. He tried to rise from the chair, but even his cane did not help. Matthews touched his shoulder.

“I’ll fetch you a plate, sir.” The young man left the parlor, but not before he cast a concerned glance over his shoulder.

Good man, Matthews. No officer ever had a better batman to see to his personal matters. Without his tender attention, Edmond would never have survived the illness that overtook him on the voyage from America. When the seas grew violent, Matthews had cushioned Edmond with his own body against the bulkhead—and received a mass of bruises for his efforts. Yet even Matthews’s valiant efforts did not protect Edmond’s left leg, shattered in battle when his horse fell. Now he feared he would never ride again.

Murmured conversation drew his attention back to the gentle soul seated beside him. Poor, lovely Miss Newfield. Her dark brown hair formed a pleasing contrast to her flawless ivory complexion, and her lively green eyes exuded intelligence. Newfield had not exaggerated her beauty and grace. Or her faith. How bravely she bore her losses. Perhaps he could offer some cheering words, the kind of thing he might say to his cavalry unit after a bad sortie.

Before he could frame a thought, a pudgy, frowning man dressed in black approached the lady, followed by a woman wearing an identical scowl. A protective instinct arose within Edmond’s chest.

“Miss Newfield.” The man gave her a fawning bow and oily smile. “I am Danders, Squire Beamish’s solicitor. He sends his condolences.” His face looked anything but sympathetic. “I’m sure you understand that due to the length of your father’s fatal illness, Squire Beamish has been forced to find a new cleric to minister to the good people of Blandon.” He emitted an unpleasant chuckle that made the hair on Edmond’s neck stand on end. Miss Newfield, however, remained serene. “Unfortunately, the new vicar and his family—” the solicitor glanced at the woman behind him “—seven children, wasn’t it, Mrs. Danders? At Squire Beamish’s invitation, they have all left their home in Surrey and even now are housed with us.” His voice rose in pitch to a squeaky tenor. “Seven children. Heh-heh. Seems more like two dozen.” He tugged at his collar. “So you will understand that they require the vicarage as soon as possible.” Another shrill laugh. “Today, if you please.”

Edmond found himself on his feet, leaning toward the solicitor from his own greater height. “What ails you, man, that you would intrude upon Miss Newfield’s grief in this manner?” He struggled not to address this cur with the language of the battlefield.

Danders stared up at him, wide-eyed. Then he straightened his jacket, as if Edmond had given in to the temptation to grab it and shake him senseless. “I beg your pardon, um, Major, but exactly who are you and what business is this of yours?”

“Please, Major Grenville.” Miss Newfield rose and touched his arm. “Do not trouble yourself. Just last week our village seamstress, Mrs. Brown, said I might live with her.” With a nodding glance she indicated a nearby woman, whose face now filled with dismay.

“Oh, my dear.” Mrs. Brown moved closer. “I didn’t want to tell you so soon after dear Mr. Newfield’s demise, but I’ve no room.” She wrung her handkerchief. “My widowed sister has just come with her children, you see, and she needs a place to live.”

Edmond watched with horror and amazement as this latest cannonball struck its target, for surely the young lady would crumble under this siege.

“I understand.” Dry-eyed, Miss Newfield embraced her neighbor and murmured comforting assurances. A strange light shone in her fair brown eyes, and a hint of a smile graced her lips.

Edmond prayed the barrage of bad news had not commenced to drive her mad.

“Well, then,” Mr. Danders said. “My wife will help you to gather your things, and you can be off.”

Mrs. Danders shoved her way in front of Miss Newfield. “And don’t be thinking you can run off with anything that ain’t nailed down. I have a list from Squire Beamish—” she pulled a folded paper from her large reticule “—and I know every candlestick and serviette that belongs to the parish.”

Now the young lady swayed slightly and her eyes lost their focus, as they had when Edmond had so brutishly announced her brother’s death. But he could not help her, for his own head grew light. Rage over his weakness kept him from fainting, and he leveled a glare upon Danders. The man tugged at his collar again.

“Here, sir.” Matthews was suddenly beside him, easing him back into his chair. “I’ve set a plate for you on this side table. Some nice cold meats, rolls, cheeses and pumpkin pie. The local housewives have made quite a feast.”

“Let’s get on with it, Miss Newfield.” Mrs. Danders gripped the young lady’s upper arm and dragged her toward the hallway.

“Yes, yes, of course.” Miss Newfield’s voice wavered. “Please do permit me to…”

The rest of her words were lost in the shuffling of feet as they exited the parlor door.

Edmond tried to rise and follow, but his legs betrayed him.

“Now.” Danders hovered over Edmond and adjusted the spectacles resting on his pudgy nose. “Exactly what is your business with Miss Newfield? Squire Beamish will need to know exactly what has been going on here at the vicarage. If her character is suspect—”

Once again, anger brought Edmond to his feet. “How dare you?” Mrs. Brown’s presence prevented him from speaking as he would to a scavenging mongrel. Good sense informed him that this weasel could do much harm to the young lady’s reputation. Edmond suspected he was dishonest, but had no strength to investigate the matter, at least not yet. The best course was to give Danders the information he sought. “I have just arrived to inform Miss Newfield that her brother perished in America fighting for England.”