Read Online To Love and to Cherish by Patricia Gaffney - Free Book Online
Authors: Patricia Gaffney
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the military.”
“Oh, yes. As a captain, I believe?”
“Yes, until he gave up his commission last year due to an illness.”
Honoria waited for her to elaborate. She didn’t. “I believe I heard that he served in Africa,” she went on alter a pause.
“Yes, although that was before we met.”
“And in Burma, I think?”
“Yes. And India, and New Zealand,” she added in a dry tone.
“My goodness! How fortunate we are to have such a
patriotic
Englishman for our new lord,” Honoria smirked. “Do you have family in England, my lady?” she inquired next.
“No, I’ve no family. My father died shortly after Geoffrey and I were married.”
“I’m so sorry. And that was—?”
“Four years ago.”
“Ah, I see. And so, when Geoffrey—his lordship; I
do
beg your pardon—when his lordship was away in India or Africa or wherever it might have been, you stayed in England quite alone?”
The other ladies shifted and cleared their throats, uncomfortable with Honoria’s bold prying. “Quite,” Anne answered, looking at her directly. “I lived in London, by myself, in our house.” The arch of one sleek eyebrow asked as eloquently as words,
Is there anything else you’d like to know?
Honoria colored slightly and closed her lips.
Tea was served. Miss Weedie poured while Tabby, the housemaid the Weedies shared with Miss Pine, passed cups and saucers. “She’s not what you might call a
treasure
,” Christy recalled Miss Weedie confiding in him once, “but she does try.” Lady D’Aubrey was given a tiny table from which to take her tea, while the others made do with plates on their laps. The cream toasts and green pea pie occupied everyone for a few minutes, so that the lulls in the conversation weren’t uncomfortable, but soon afterward the silences grew awkward again. The Weedies and Miss Pine were clearly overwhelmed by the eminence of their guest, and even Mrs. Thoroughgood, normally a hard woman to dissuade from sharing her voluble opinions, seemed too intimidated to initiate a subject. Christy was about to introduce some innocuous topic when Anne herself broke another nerve-wracking pause.
“Tell me about Wyckerley,” she said, aiming the question at her hostess. “Have you lived here always?”
“Oh, yes,” Miss Weedie answered brightly. “I was born in this house, and so was my father. Mother’s the foreigner: she came from Mare’s Head.”
“That’s the next village over,” Mrs. Thoroughgood put in, passing her empty plate to Tabby. “My husband was a foreigner too, from Crediton; that’s on the other side of the moor. He passed away some years ago.”
“I was born here,” Miss Pine worked up the courage to say, “and so were my parents.” She was a small, dark, wrinkled old woman with nervous hands and intense black eyes. She lived in two rooms in her own small cottage and rented the other two out to boarders.
“We’re all great friends,” Mrs. Weedie said unexpectedly from the inglenook. “How long have you and I known each other, Miss Pine?”
“Fifty-one years, Mrs. Weedie. We met the day you came to Wyckerley to marry Mr. Weedie.”
Mrs. Thoroughgood was warming up. “Oh, yes, we’re great friends, all four of us. Jessica’s the baby, we like to say.” Miss Weedie bowed her head in acknowledgment. “We meet in one of our houses at least three afternoons a week, rain or shine, for tea or sewing, or just a nice gossip. I don’t believe we’ve missed a day in ten years.”
“Why, we missed the third and the fifth of February in fifty-two,” Miss Pine corrected timidly. “Don’t you remember? Jessie had the grippe, and we were afraid we’d all catch it.”
The ladies nodded and laughed gently, their affection for each other obvious. What Mrs. Thoroughgood hadn’t mentioned, Christy thought to himself, was that all four of them were as poor as churchmice, getting by on the minuscule livings and stipends left by their various male relatives.
“Oh, yes. As a captain, I believe?”
“Yes, until he gave up his commission last year due to an illness.”
Honoria waited for her to elaborate. She didn’t. “I believe I heard that he served in Africa,” she went on alter a pause.
“Yes, although that was before we met.”
“And in Burma, I think?”
“Yes. And India, and New Zealand,” she added in a dry tone.
“My goodness! How fortunate we are to have such a
patriotic
Englishman for our new lord,” Honoria smirked. “Do you have family in England, my lady?” she inquired next.
“No, I’ve no family. My father died shortly after Geoffrey and I were married.”
“I’m so sorry. And that was—?”
“Four years ago.”
“Ah, I see. And so, when Geoffrey—his lordship; I
do
beg your pardon—when his lordship was away in India or Africa or wherever it might have been, you stayed in England quite alone?”
The other ladies shifted and cleared their throats, uncomfortable with Honoria’s bold prying. “Quite,” Anne answered, looking at her directly. “I lived in London, by myself, in our house.” The arch of one sleek eyebrow asked as eloquently as words,
Is there anything else you’d like to know?
Honoria colored slightly and closed her lips.
Tea was served. Miss Weedie poured while Tabby, the housemaid the Weedies shared with Miss Pine, passed cups and saucers. “She’s not what you might call a
treasure
,” Christy recalled Miss Weedie confiding in him once, “but she does try.” Lady D’Aubrey was given a tiny table from which to take her tea, while the others made do with plates on their laps. The cream toasts and green pea pie occupied everyone for a few minutes, so that the lulls in the conversation weren’t uncomfortable, but soon afterward the silences grew awkward again. The Weedies and Miss Pine were clearly overwhelmed by the eminence of their guest, and even Mrs. Thoroughgood, normally a hard woman to dissuade from sharing her voluble opinions, seemed too intimidated to initiate a subject. Christy was about to introduce some innocuous topic when Anne herself broke another nerve-wracking pause.
“Tell me about Wyckerley,” she said, aiming the question at her hostess. “Have you lived here always?”
“Oh, yes,” Miss Weedie answered brightly. “I was born in this house, and so was my father. Mother’s the foreigner: she came from Mare’s Head.”
“That’s the next village over,” Mrs. Thoroughgood put in, passing her empty plate to Tabby. “My husband was a foreigner too, from Crediton; that’s on the other side of the moor. He passed away some years ago.”
“I was born here,” Miss Pine worked up the courage to say, “and so were my parents.” She was a small, dark, wrinkled old woman with nervous hands and intense black eyes. She lived in two rooms in her own small cottage and rented the other two out to boarders.
“We’re all great friends,” Mrs. Weedie said unexpectedly from the inglenook. “How long have you and I known each other, Miss Pine?”
“Fifty-one years, Mrs. Weedie. We met the day you came to Wyckerley to marry Mr. Weedie.”
Mrs. Thoroughgood was warming up. “Oh, yes, we’re great friends, all four of us. Jessica’s the baby, we like to say.” Miss Weedie bowed her head in acknowledgment. “We meet in one of our houses at least three afternoons a week, rain or shine, for tea or sewing, or just a nice gossip. I don’t believe we’ve missed a day in ten years.”
“Why, we missed the third and the fifth of February in fifty-two,” Miss Pine corrected timidly. “Don’t you remember? Jessie had the grippe, and we were afraid we’d all catch it.”
The ladies nodded and laughed gently, their affection for each other obvious. What Mrs. Thoroughgood hadn’t mentioned, Christy thought to himself, was that all four of them were as poor as churchmice, getting by on the minuscule livings and stipends left by their various male relatives.
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