Page 50 of A Well-Trained Lady

With one last look at me, Ruth latched onto Sarah, and they made for the kitchen.

“You look ill at ease.” Augustus hadn’t moved, his eyes still on me. “Are you certain you wish to speak with him alone?”

I thought of Mr. Leavitt’s loose tongue, and I knew I needed to assure Augustus all was well. He could not discover Mother’s ignorance of my whereabouts. At least, not yet. “Mr. Leavitt is the dearest of men and is perfectly harmless.”

“Very well.” Augustus walked to the door where the butler still awaited direction. “Show Mr. Leavitt in.”

Without a word, the man bowed and left the room.

Augustus paused at the threshold. “I shall be back to check on you shortly.”

“Thank you,” I whispered as he, too, disappeared out into the corridor.

The sound of men’s voices greeting one another echoed through the doorway before Mr. Leavitt waddled in behind the butler, catching sight of me and gesturing with an extended thumb behind him. “Well, Mr. Brundage seems a most agreeable gentleman.”

“He certainly is.”

Mr. Leavitt scanned my rigid posture. “And have you enjoyed your stay here in Dorset?”

Realizing his concern for me, I brightened as much as I was able. “I certainly have.”

“Good. Good.” The jolly man’s full cheeks pulled into a smile, obviously settled by my relaxed countenance. “Well, do come over here and give me a proper welcome.” He reached a hand toward me, gesturing me forward. “I haven’t come all this way to be treated as a mere acquaintance.”

Obediently, I hurried to his side, placing a kiss upon his cheek. Mother despised Mr. Leavitt’s tactless behavior, but I had always had a fondness for the man. “Do you care to have a seat?”

“I’ve been sitting all morning, so unless you prefer otherwise, a moment to get my blood flowing would be most advantageous.”

“Of course.” I paused. “I see Mrs. Leavitt did not accompany you. Is she well?”

He heaved a long, drawn-out sigh, his big belly lowering at the effort. “I fear her health is not optimal, though whether it is a condition of the mind or the body is less certain.” His brow furrowed. “She has been brought quite low since the marriage of our Amelia and has refused to travel these past few months because of it, though she would deny the causation.”

I well knew I should comment on her grievous trial, but found myself unable to push aside my curiosity. “She is still in London then?”

Mr. Leavitt shook his head. “No. We were not in London this Season.”

“But I …” My words trailed off as I tried to make sense of Mr. Leavitt’s declaration. I was certain Papa had mentioned they were in Town, for if they had already been home in Dorset, why would they have claimed Mrs. Leavitt’s inability to travel as a reason for postponing their invitation?

“Do not fret, Arabella,” Mr. Leavitt said, reclaiming my drifting thoughts. “She is not in dire straits. I intend to convince her to go with me to Brighton, and I daresay she shall be herself again in no time. Salt air does wonders for an ailing person’s constitution.”

I gave an absent nod, allowing the silence to overwhelm the room.

Mr. Leavitt cleared his throat. “I did not mean to dampen your spirits with such news. Why don’t we move along to the purpose for my visit?”

My heart dropped, and I was certain I did not wish to hear it. “May I offer you tea and cakes first?”

“No. I fear I must hurry back to Mrs. Leavitt.” He rubbed his stomach, as though consoling it over the thought of missing out on cake. “She does not like to be long without me in her current state, and, unfortunately, the man I just saw about repairs for my stables had much to say regarding his thoughts on … well, everything, really. I’m now running behind schedule, so I must be brief.”

I stilled, preparing myself emotionally for the news of my immediate removal from Fairhaven.

Mr. Leavitt reached into his pocket and pulled out two letters. “I received a letter for you several days ago with your mother’s seal.” He appraised my expression. “I thought it a very strange occurrence, indeed, and wrote your father to see what it was about.”

“Mother had already left for her sister’s when”—I paused, uncertain how to word the Leavitts’ failing to follow through with their invitation in a way to not give offense—“the Brundages offered to let me stay here. I suppose that is where the confusion came in.”

Mr. Leavitt gave a tentative nod, though he appeared far from convinced. “I suppose that is similar to what your father has declared, though he mentioned giving your mother the wrong directions, or something or other, and here I am, hand delivering your missives like a regular post boy.” He held out both letters and pointed at the top one with his other hand. “A second one arrived this very morning.”

My gaze moved from the letters to him. “And is this the only reason you have come all this way?”

“Well, that and to see your pretty face.”