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Chapter Six
After eating a late breakfast the next morning, Charles went out for a short walk in Tiverwell’s gardens. He would be cooped up inside, working for the rest of the day, and wanted to take advantage of the fresh air while the sun was just making its way into the sky.
He walked through the flowers, wondering which was which. He had never lived anywhere with a flower-garden before. It was lovely. The smell was heavenly. He wondered if the back-yard of his own London home would support it. He figured not—it was more of a place of necessity. Mrs. Osbourne, his housekeeper, was the one who needed the space.
He saw Lady Arabella before she noticed him. Thankfully, she was accompanied by her lady’s maid. The girl regarded him coolly, with eyes so dark they were almost black. She wore a neat gray frock, and a starched white pinafore. Beside the bright auburn color of Lady Arabella’s dress, she seemed austere.
“Do you often walk out here?” he asked. Lady Arabella turned to face him.
“Of course,” she replied. “There’s nothing more calming than a good walk out in nature.”
“What don’t you do, My Lady?” he wondered.
“Well, I’m not much interested in embroidery,” she replied.
He laughed. “I daresay not.”
“Come. Walk with me,” she said, reaching out to take his arm. “As you can see, we are chaperoned by Annette.”
“I’d be happy to, My Lady,” he replied.
They walked in silence for a few moments. He was happy to have run into her like this. Her lady’s maid followed them, silent as a shadow. At the same time, he recalled the Duke’s comments the night before.
He tried to think of a proper subject to bring up. He had never had any lady pay much attention to him, like this. Usually, they studiously ignored him, only paying him polite attention, when necessitated. Lady Arabella gravitated toward him. He didn’t know what to think of it.
“So, Mr. Conolly,” Lady Arabella said. “What made you want to be a barrister?”
“I don’t talk about it much,” he told her. It was true—he didn’t. None of his clients knew. Only his good friend and fellow barrister, Arthur Hinkley, whom he had known since they were at university. “Can you keep a secret?”
“I most certainly can,” she replied.
“When I was ten, my father was arrested for a crime that he did not commit.”
“Oh?”
“Murder,” he said.
“Oh, my.”
He kept his gaze on the stone path upon which they were walking. “He was found innocent, only a few days after he’d been executed for it.”
“Oh, Mr. Conolly—that’s dreadful.” She was gripping his arm, tightly.
“It was then that I determined to become a barrister—so that I could fight for those who were unable to defend themselves.”
“But…you work with gentlemen to settle their affairs,” she pointed out.
“Touché, My Lady.” He cleared his throat. “Life doesn’t always go according to plan. I helped Lord Danbury resolve an estate matter about four years ago. On the strength of his recommendation, I have been assisting the ton with their affairs ever since.”
“Do you like it?” she asked.
“I do. I really do. I’ve been fortunate, while my father was not. The Constabulary gave my mother funds to ensure that I was properly brought up and educated, despite not having a father.”
“I’m so sorry,” she said, her fingers squeezing his arm. Before he really thought of it, he placed his hand on top of hers.
“Thank you, My Lady.”
Their eyes met. She smiled up at him. It wasn’t with pity, as was the usual reaction. It was as though they’d shared a moment, one which had put her, instead, on his side, just like when he’d shared the same information with Arthur.
