Page 53 of Beneath the Harvest Moon

Bitterness surged within her, but she tamped it down. She had no right to such churlish sentiments. “I will no doubt be the victim of malicious gossip once again.”

“Let them gossip all they want. All that should matter is your happiness.”

“I said we would wait a few days, that is all.”

Jane grumbled. “At least tell Mother Dixon when I am present. I want to see her face when you announce your news.”

She squeezed Jane’s hand. “Once you have recovered enough to leave your bed, I will declare it to the family. I want to tell Violet first, and I shall write to Elijah.”

“You do that. By the way, I feel well enough to get up today. I didn’t linger in bed after the birth of my boys, and I have work to do.”

“Your only work is to rest and take care of my niece. Do not let Mama convince you otherwise.”

The rattle of a carriage below drew their attention. Blythe rose when shouts drifted through the diamond-paned windows.

A familiar black lacquered travelling coach, drawn by a pair of bays, pulled up.

“What is it?” Jane asked.

Blythe returned the babe. The infant squirmed at being roughly handled.

“I must go.”

“Why?”

Without answering, Blythe scurried down the staircase and out of the front door.

Mr Drake glanced up at her childhood home and his lips turned down.

The rude… His gaze roved over her from head to toe.

The man’s vulgarity would not affect her manners. “Good afternoon, Mr Drake. What an unexpected pleasure.” Despite her efforts, she could not withhold a disdainful tone. “What brings you to Midthorpe on this fine day?”

“I would have thought the reason was obvious.” Mr Drake scowled at the chickens that clustered about his polished pumps, then said, “I have come to take you home.”

The presumptuous… Remain calm. “I thank you for your gallant gesture, but I am home.”

Courtesy dictated that she invite him inside, but his obvious contempt only fuelled her desire to ensure he remained for as brief a time as possible.

Mr Drake flicked a foot, causing the hens to scatter, flapping their wings and squawking in outrage. “You cannot intend to remain here. Elijah has returned to school, and Mrs Simmonds is desirous to see Violet again.”

“Mrs Simmonds knows where we are and is more than capable of paying a visit. I shall invite her when I next write. She has been fortunate to enjoy the uninterrupted presence of my children for many years. I am certain she will not refuse to allow my parents the same opportunity.”

“You said you would return after the harvest.”

“I said I would remain until after Michaelmas, which is not until next week, but I fear you have made a wasted journey for I now intend to remain in Midthorpe for the foreseeable future.”

“You cannot do that.” He rapped his cane into the dusty earth.

“I am free to do as I wish without hindrance from anyone.”

“What about my proposal?”

“Forgive me for keeping you waiting. I thank you for the honour of your proposal, but I must decline.”

“But you cannot possibly expect to remain here as a widow. What of your children?”

“Elijah will continue his studies and attend university. In a few years, he will be able to make his own decisions, and I intend to support him.” She held the man’s wide-eyed gaze. “Violet will remain with me under the tutelage of her governess.”