Page 44 of Heartbreaker of the Ton
“This is Mrs. Ward,” Andrew said, gesturing toward Etty. “She very much wanted to meet you today.”
“Oh.” Distress and shame lined Loveday’s features. “Oh, ma’am. I-if I’d known you were comin’, I’d have…”
“There’s no need to do anything, Mrs. Smith,” Etty said, glancing about the chamber. “We’re not in need of tea.”
Andrew flinched inwardly. What must she think of the place? Would she deign to spend an afternoon here, or would she turn her pretty nose up at the filth and restrict herself to thecharitable efforts Lady Fulford favored, such as tossing a coin or two at the needy without sullying her hands?
He placed a hand on her shoulder, and she turned and met his gaze. The compassion in her eyes stirred his heart.
We’reguestshere,he mouthed.
Etty glanced from Loveday to Andrew, and understanding flickered in her gaze. She drew up a chair beside Loveday, sat, and pulled a package out of the basket.
“I trust it’s not too much of an imposition, Mrs. Smith,” she said. “I’ve been looking forward to spending an afternoon with you. Do you like fruitcake?”
Loveday eyed the package. “I-I had some once,” she said. “Leftovers, from one of Lady Fulford’s garden parties.” She winced, and Andrew’s heart ached at the fear in her eyes.
“Well, this one’s for you,” Etty said.
“Oh no, ma’am—I couldn’t possibly take it.”
“It’s only fair that I bring you a gift if I’m a guest in your home, Mrs. Smith, particularly if you’ve invited us for tea. Frances baked it.”
“Frannie Gadd?” Loveday asked.
“Yes—all by herself!” Etty laughed. “I’m hopeless in the kitchen, I’m afraid. I do my best, but I know when to concede defeat in the presence of a more accomplished cook. Frances sends you her best wishes, Mrs. Smith.”
“Oh, ma’am!” Loveday cried. “I’m quite overcome—I don’t know what to say…”
“There’s nothing to say,” Etty said, placing a light hand on her arm. A flicker of pain crossed Loveday’s expression. “May I look at your hand, Mrs. Smith?”
Loveday glanced at Andrew and shook her head.
“Mr. Staines,” Etty said, “might you perhaps assist Florence with the tea? I know how men dislike listening to ladies prattlingon, and I’d like to get to know Mrs. Smith better, if you’d be so kind?”
Andrew glanced at Etty, at the compassion in her eyes and the tender way she cradled Loveday’s hand in hers.
Loveday was, perhaps, in safer hands today than she had ever been. He nodded, then ushered Florence out of the chamber.
*
By the timeAndrew returned, the sun was well past its zenith. He should have been back at the vicarage hours ago—that sermon wasn’t going to write itself. He would have already been home had Etty not insisted on prolonging each of their visits today. She’d taken the plight of his flock to her heart—young Matthew and Kitty Dodd, who’d struggled to make ends meet ever since Matthew’s accident at Whittington Farm, and old Mrs. Penfold, who was determined to retain her home and her independence, but who suffered with the pains in her hands and feet. Mrs. Penfold was known in Sandcombe for her irascibility, but Etty had ignored her short-tempered jibes, rewarded her frowns with smiles, and even joined ranks with the old widow in her lamentations about the inequalities of the world and the faults of men—including Andrew himself, after which Mrs. Penfold regaled Etty with tales of her late husband’s mishaps.
And now, laughter could be heard in Loveday Smith’s house. Holding the tea tray in his hands, he followed Florence inside to find Loveday sitting upright in her chair, her eyes sparkling with mirth, and Etty standing in the center of the room, holding the baby in her arms.
“Florrie, love, would you see to Anna?” Loveday asked. “It’s time for your walk.”
“There’s no need to remove the child on my account, Mrs. Smith,” Etty said, then she cooed to the baby. “You’re such a sweet girl, aren’t you?”
“I always take Anna for a walk in the afternoon, ma’am,” Florence said, holding out her arms. “She likes to see the sea.”
“Then perhaps you can all join me for a picnic by the sea,” Etty said, handing the baby to the girl. “I’m taking Frances, and I’m sure she’d like the company. She speaks of you often, Mrs. Smith.”
“A picnic?” Loveday’s eyes shone with delight. Then she shook her head. “I can’t possibly. My Ralph wouldn’t permit it.”
“I fail to see why not—the fresh air would be good for you, and there’s much to be said about the benefits of sea bathing.”
“I…” Loveday began, then flinched as a door opened and slammed shut downstairs. The baby in Florence’s arms began to wail. “Florrie, love, take Anna outside, there’s a good girl.”
