Page 18 of Finding Harmony (Trade Wind 2)

Chapter Five

The late summer sun glinted off the glass and white-painted metal of the square conservatory, causing Molly and Frederick to pause and admire the view.

“It’s lovely,” she breathed. They’d yet to enter the Waterlily House, but their time together at Kew Gardens had already brought her such joy. Walking along the paths surrounded by the botanic delights, she could pretend that she was an ordinary woman living an ordinary life—conversing pleasantly with her suitor, exchanging heated glances until she blushed.

No matter that she wasn’t a girl of sixteen…or even six-and-twenty; no matter that her escort’s face also had lines fanning from his eyes. She forgot to wonder whether onlookers spying them would notice that she was more advanced in age than her beau.

Today she was Molly—a woman not only a maid, daughter, or sister. She wore the only gown she owned besides her uniform, a simple, fawn-colored dress that complemented her eyes.

Frederick was also in good spirits, gazing warmly at her delight over the blooms that lingered late in the season. He laughed along with her at the antics of two boys who naughtily led their governess on a merry chase through the hedges.

“The structure is a wonder, yes,” Frederick agreed, though he’d turned his attention to her instead of the Waterlily House ahead. “But I’ve enjoyed all the sights here. I’ve visited only once before, not long after it opened to the public. It has to have been a decade!” Before the Crown transferred the pleasure grounds to the government, the gardens had been reserved for royal enjoyment. “But Molly, in truth,youare what makes this outing remarkable. Thank you for sharing the idea. I won’t ever forget this day.”

“Nor shall I.”

Two birds swooped past their heads, chittering angrily, and landed on the grass to compete over some breadcrumbs some nearby patrons had tossed.

Laughing, Molly couldn’t help but remember her outings with Lady Clara and her beloved aunt to watch and feed birds. Her ladyship, recently orphaned then, had moved to London from the family estate to live with Aunt Violet; Molly herself had been in town less than a year. They both greatly enjoyed the constitutions in the parks, needing that time in nature.

After she shared those fond memories with Frederick, he looked pleased for her. “Your and Lady Clara’s affection for each other is clear.”

“I couldn’t ask for a better situation. It terrified me to come to London, and I knew straight away how fortunate I was to work in that household. When Lady Clara joined us and I became her lady’s maid, I…” Molly smiled even as she swallowed past the lump in her throat. “I was even more fortunate. Even as a girl, one who’d just lost her parents, her ladyship was kind and understanding. She knows me well and has always valued my service.”

Well…until now, she thought sadly, recalling the image of the Robertsons’ carriage leaving for Anterleigh. Without thinking, she sought comfort from her distress by tapping her thumb and forefinger together.One. Two. Three. One. Two. Three.

Frederick reached for her hand, the man missing nothing, and she froze in horror at being caught soothing herself with her odd behaviors. His large hand enveloped hers slowly, with the exquisite care he would employ with the most fragile and valuable of instruments.

The warmth from his hand and also in his eyes erased her half-formed excuses for her strange ways. She held his in return, shocked when he squeezed three times in a row, and after pausing, repeated the rhythm.

Staring into her eyes, he continued the pattern until she was breathing deeply, calmness and contentedness spreading within her.

“How—how did you know?”

He smiled. “How could I not? Only now are we becoming better acquainted, but I’ve had the pleasure of knowing you for a few years now. Of spending time with you.” His gaze dropped to their joined hands. “Did it help?”

“Yes! I thank you.” Swallowing, she wondered at his surprising calmness. Lady Clara and the others in the household were well aware of her foibles, and while tolerant and empathetic, her ladyship never mentioned them openly.Could he possibly understand? “Three—it’s important to me. It always has been.”It always will be.

“I’ve noticed.” He smiled. “It’s important in music, too. A fine number indeed to admire. There is triple meter. Chords that are triads. Herr Mozart favored the number three, did you know?The Magic Fluteis in E-flat major, a key with three flats. That opera is replete with three-part harmony and characters in threes. Three ladies. Three child-spirits. Concertos have a three-movement structure. Why—“

Tears glazed Molly’s eyes, and she blinked them away, listening in awe to Frederick. Not only was his knowledge as impressive as ever, his enthusiasm for the subject keen—his ready acceptance of her lifted her heart.

When he finished speaking, he smiled sheepishly, and after a last squeeze, offered his elbow. They continued their walk toward the Waterlily House, but Molly’s mind remained on the revelation that Frederick was more aware of the dents in her armor than she’d realized.

Spying more birds and thinking again of Lady Clara and her aunt, Molly wondered if her ladyship’s beneficent manipulations involved more than Frederick. She smiled and shook her head, voicing her suspicions. “She usually had me accompany her on her excursions out of doors, even when she had plans with friends. I had time to myself to wander and enjoy. I insisted I had work to do at the house.”

“But she knew how beneficial the constitutionals were to your spirits.”

“Yes. They truly are restorative, despite all the dust. The disorder! Just look at that hedge there, so carefully shaped by the gardener’s trusty shears, yet uncontrollable all the same. See the twig that’s already grown past the others nearby. How more berries grow more on the side that takes in the morning sun?” She shook her head and giggled. “I ought to despise being out of doors, what with thedisarray. But I love it.”

He laughed in return, though he also reflected carefully on her words, pausing outside the remarkable structure they’d come to visit. “All astute observations. I myself require order in my workshop. Precision in my work. Yet I accept there is no controlling the direction of the wind or predicting how a cat’s tail will flicker next. Somehow nature is more tolerable, isn’t it? Most noises are bothersome to me—except out here.” He tilted his head, listening to the rustle of the breeze through the leaves and the tweets of the birds.

“What about pianos? Aren’t they noisy?”

“Oh, they don’t makenoise.”

She raised her eyebrows in surprise, imagining how many notes he had to listen to in a day. The loud sounds were constant!

He smiled. “Very well. It might be noise, but the most pleasant sort. The rest is all a cacophony these ears can scarcely bear—horse's hooves, carriage wheels, hammering.” His face sobered. “It’s difficult at the best of times. When a megrim seizes me…”

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