Page 54 of The Summer Country

“Not at all,” said Emily, taking his hand. The sun still shone, but the day felt darker than it had been before.

They rode back in silence broken only by comments about the weather. There was a new constraint about his manner as Mr. Davenant helped Emily down from her mount in the stable yard. And who could blame him? Emily suspected her pity showed on her face, and she hated herself for it.

“Miss Dawson,” he said as he handed her down.

“Hadn’t you better call me Emily?” Emily blurted out, in an attempt to make amends. “It seems silly to stand on formality.”

“Emily,” he said, looking down at her hand in his as though surprised to see it there. He released it and stepped back. “Then you must call me George. I’ve overstayed my time. I’d best see to my work, or my grandmother will have my head.”

Emily watched him go with a frown, feeling that she’d thoroughly put her foot in it. She hadn’t asked him to confide in her. Well, perhaps she had, just a little. But she had never imagined that there might be such unhappiness beneath Mr. Davenant’s easy air.

It made her feel a little sick to think of the baby he had been, being left behind. No wonder he wouldn’t leave his grandmother. She was the only one who had stood by him, even if standing by him did seem to mean nudging and guiding him.

Emily looped up the skirt of her habit as she climbed the steps to the bedroom floor. She would go in and tell Laura about the Old Mill, she decided. It might be just the thing to get Laura moving again. Not today, of course. But tomorrow, in the cool of the morning, perhaps she might persuade Laura to ride out with her. Mr. Davenant—George—could do without her for one day; they could both use some time apart after today. She felt silly for complaining about Hester when George had real sorrows with which to contend.

Before Emily could knock, Laura’s door opened, and Adam came out, stopping short at the sight of her. He closed the door behind him, but not before Emily heard the sound of retching.

“You reek of the stables,” he commented.

“And so would you if you had been riding. Is Laura ill again?”

Emily made to go past him, but Adam stopped her. “Just a touch of heat. Don’t fuss at her, Emily. She wants to be let alone.”

“She’s been ill since we arrived. Don’t tell me it’s just the heat.” Emily glanced back at the door. “If you won’t let me look at her, perhaps a doctor ought to be called.”

Adam made a face at her. “MacAndrews?”

“That’s not funny,” said Emily sharply. MacAndrews came to supper once a week, on Wednesdays, and it didn’t take a doctor to diagnose his shaking hands and yellowed skin. “I wouldn’t trust a cat to his care. I thought Mr. Turner might make a recommendation.”

“His nephew, for one?” said Adam, as though it were a great joke.

“Why not? He’s better trained than most doctors here.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Taking her by the arm, Adam turned Emily and marched her away from Laura’s door. “There’s nothing wrong with Laura that a bit of rest and some tea won’t cure.”

“Yes, but—” Emily twisted back, but Adam held fast.

“Hadn’t you better look to your own affairs?” he demanded. Seeing a passing servant carrying linens, he lowered his voice, tilting his head toward hers. “The old dragon had me to tea today while you were off gallivanting with young Davenant.”

Emily suppressed the urge to point out that Mr. Davenant was at least as old as Adam and possibly a year or two more besides. “Yes? That’s hardly surprising under the circumstances.”

Adam stopped at the landing, raising his brows at her in an infuriating way. “But don’t you want to know why?” Without waiting for Emily to answer, he said, with some relish, “She quizzed me about your mother. Where was she born, when was she born, what was she like, who did she favor. . . . It was, I would have you know, a most pointed inquisition.”

“She knew Grandfather.” Even if she hadn’t liked him. “I’m not surprised she wants to know about his children.”

“Not his children. Child. She couldn’t have been less interested in Father. What do you imagine that means?”

“That she was making conversation with a guest and thought it a topic of mutual interest?”

“And all of those morning rides with young Davenant?”

“Do stop calling him that. I expect she thinks I’ll get discouraged if I see how much work it all is and sell Peverills to her cheap.”

Just as those endless teas were a campaign to show her how little she belonged, how little she understood their traditions and family ties.

It was a lowering thought. Emily rather liked Mrs. Davenant, because of—not despite—her toughness, and she thought Mrs. Davenant felt the same. But she should know, after all those years with her grandfather, how little weight liking held when there was money at issue.

Adam folded his arms across his chest, leaning back against an old mahogany chest. “Why do that when she can get it for free?”