British Brides Collection Page 3

  Wishing she could smack him, Helen backed away. “I will walk.” She fell into step beside the tall horse, keeping a wary distance. “I find that the children have few outdoor playthings,” she began.

  “Franklin cares little for sport. Nevertheless, I will find a ball for you, and we can obtain hoops from the cooper. Is this the aid you require?” He sounded disappointed.

  “Cousin Helen!”

  Helen turned to see Avril running up the path. “Look what I found in the kitchen garden!” She held out a rock. “It has gold streaks in it. Guy says it isn’t gold, but how would a gardener know? I want my doll to have it.”

  Helen heard stamping hooves and snorting behind her. Gripping Avril by the shoulders, she hurried the girl toward the gardens. “That would be nice, dear. Now return to Guy—he must wonder what became of you.”

  Avril peered around Helen. “Franklin says he will ride away on Braveheart someday.”

  Squeals and grunts from the horse roused Helen’s curiosity. She turned to find Oliver wrestling with the rearing animal. Hooves, tail, and powerful quarters whirled past her at close range.

  “Off the path!” Oliver ordered.

  Helen pressed against a hedge while Braveheart thundered past. Avril sighed from the shelter of Helen’s arm. “Is he not magnificent?”

  “Aye, and his steed is fine also,” Helen breathed.

  “I beg pardon for Braveheart’s misconduct,” Oliver said while hanging the colt’s bridle upon a hook. “He is but newly broken to ride and finds it arduous to submit his will unto mine.”

  Still somewhat breathless, Helen simply returned his smile. Oliver touched her elbow and escorted her from the stable. “Avril is like unto a different child since your arrival.”

  Helen avoided looking at her companion. “Aye, she has become a veritable magpie. Poor child—how she mourns her hair! I assured her that it will grow as does her strength. The girls enjoy being clean and neat, and they love to learn and hear stories.”

  Oliver noticed an omission. “Has Franklin given you trouble?”

  “I know not how to think of him. He keeps to himself unless provoking one of his sisters. The child never smiles or laughs. He seems unnatural. Does he talk to you?”

  “Seldom. Since Sarah’s death he has retreated into himself. Does he respond to your attentions?”

  “Embracing him is like embracing a stone. And one more thing …”

  “Aye?” Oliver encouraged.

  For once Helen did not feel as if Oliver were inwardly ridiculing her. She stopped and faced him, studying her hands. “I have discovered … problems in the nursery. Once the ropes supporting my bed gave way suddenly. One night there was little water in my pitcher—it was all on the foot of the bed. Once I found my clothing strewn about the room. I hate to suspect one of the maids of such childish tricks, but I also dread to believe that Franklin would be so cruel.”

  “Someone should have warned you. Be aware that Franklin has a knack for finding a weakness and exploiting it. If it helps at all, know that I am on your side in this conflict.”

  Helen smiled and looked up. “You have no idea how much it helps! I have felt alone here, with no one to pray with or talk to except the children.”

  Oliver regarded her for a long moment. His lashes were so thick and dark she could scarcely see his eyes. “You can talk with God.”

  “I do. He is my constant confidant.”

  “I believe you. But have you ever before confided in a man, Helen?”

  “Only my father.”

  Oliver’s lips twitched. “I thought as much. You are as jumpy as a fawn whenever a man approaches. Or is it only me?”

  “I–I don’t know what you mean.” Helen slipped her hand up to finger her neckcloth.

  “Even as you illustrate my point.” Oliver caught her fidgeting fingers. “Do you suspect me of dire intentions? A man tires of being regarded as a ravening wolf.”

  Helen tugged at her hand, her gaze fixed upon the brown hollow at the base of his throat. He allowed her fingers to slip through his grasp. “Why must you make sport of me? I cannot be at ease around someone who thinks ill of me no matter what I do or say!” Helen blurted while backing away.

  She turned and ran toward the house.

  Two days later, a breeze rippled the surface of the lake, sending sparkles of sunlight into Helen’s eyes. Four white swans floated near a stand of cattails and rushes, ignoring the children’s attempts to entice them with bread. Wildflowers carpeting the lakeshore shaded up a knoll into the verdant lawn. New leaves clothed overhanging tree boughs.

  “Altogether lovely!” Helen breathed deeply. “This is my favorite artwork—God’s masterpiece of creation.”

  “You smile a lot, Cousin Helen,” Avril observed. “Do you find everything comical?”

  Helen couldn’t restrain a chuckle. “Not everything. But I do find joy and amusement in many things. The Bible tells us to ‘rejoice evermore.’ God wants His children to be joyful.”

  “He must be pleased with you,” Patsy said, bouncing in Helen’s lap. “Except that you’re not a children.”

  Helen hugged the little girl. “In God’s eyes, I will always be a child.”

  “I guess He’s pretty old,” Patsy stated.

  Helen lay back on the grass and laughed aloud. “Patsy, dearest, you’re a treasure.”

  Franklin knelt on the lakeshore, poking with a stick at something down in the water like any other nine-year-old boy might. But, unlike a normal boy, he did not join the conversation.

  “Cousin Helen, are you going to marry our father? He said he would find us another mother.”

  Helen answered the challenge in Avril’s eyes. “Your father asked me to come because you children need someone to care for you. I came because I need a family to love since my parents died and left me alone. The Lord provided for everyone’s needs at once. If your father does choose another wife, I’m sure he will marry a woman who will love his children.”

  “If he marries again, will you have to go away?”

  “Let’s not worry about the future, Avril.”

  “Father doesn’t like us since Mother died. Uncle Oliver plays with us sometimes, though,” Patsy announced. “He throwed the ball to me yesterday, and I catched it bunches of times. Franklin said I never could.”

  Pleased that the subject of Oliver had arisen, Helen tried to question delicately. “Why do you call Oliver ‘Uncle’?”

  “He is our uncle,” Avril said. “Our mother was his sister.”

  “He is your—” Helen was too surprised to continue. No wonder Oliver was so obviously a gentleman. No wonder “Kirby” sounded familiar—it had been Sarah Biddlesham’s maiden name. From everything Helen could recall hearing, Cousin Cyril had married into a propertied family of good repute. She longed to ask why Oliver now worked as horseman for his brother-in-law.

  “May we wade in the lake?” Franklin asked abruptly. His knees were damp, and mud smeared his jerkin. “I want to catch tadpoles.”

  Helen hated to disappoint the boy the first time he requested anything of her, but …

  “What’s the matter, Cousin Helen? Don’t you like tadpoles? They grow up into frogs.” Patsy patted Helen’s hand. “Franklin likes to catch frogs and toads and newts.”

  Helen struggled to turn her grimace into a smile. “How interesting! However, I fear it is too cold for wading as yet.” Casting about for an alternative, she brightened. “You could climb these marvelous oaks.” She plopped Patsy upon the grass and leaped to her feet, brushing grass clippings from her skirts and peeling off her gloves.

  The children stared as Helen patted a sprawling oak’s lowest branch. “Come,” she coaxed. “Have you never climbed a tree? I often climbed trees during my childhood. From the branches of this one, I’m sure you could touch the sky!”

  Helen helped Patsy find a secure place on one of the tree’s massive support branches, while Franklin and Avril headed for a nearby oak. “Is this not en
joyable?”

  Patsy grinned. “I’m a squirrel.” She wrapped both legs around the limb.

  “You’re a bright-eyed red squirrel with tufted ears.” Helen patted the child’s knee and savored Patsy’s adoring smile.

  “Cousin Helen, look at me!” A call came from the next tree.

  Helen shaded her eyes and gazed at Avril. “My, but you’re high like a bird on the wing!” she said. The girl smiled in satisfaction from a perch no more than ten feet from the ground.

  Franklin appeared determined to out-daring-do his sister. Helen saw his foot slip and gasped inwardly, but the boy caught his balance and continued upward.

  “Franklin, that is high enough. Can you touch the clouds from there?” Helen tried to keep alarm from her voice. “Franklin, please stop climbing now. Franklin?”

  The boy ignored her. At last he settled into a fork between branches and hollered down, “Look at me!”

  Helen forced admiration into her voice. “Franklin, you must be higher than the church tower! Can you see all the way to Cambridge?”

  He laughed. “I can see all the way to France.”

  Studying his position, Helen nibbled a fingernail. “Maybe you’d better come down now. Let’s explore the maze.”

  Avril obediently slid toward the tree’s trunk. A gust of wind made the trees groan and sway, leaves aflutter. Helen heard Franklin give a yelp. “Are you all right up there?”

  Not a word in reply.

  “Franklin, do you need help getting down?” Helen lifted Patsy from her perch and, with the child on her hip, trotted toward the other oak.

  Avril scooted down the trunk and landed with a thump on her backside. Hopping up, she brushed herself off and joined Helen. Her cheeks and eyes glowed. “What else may we do, Cousin Helen?”

  “We must wait for your brother before we try anything else,” Helen said. She peered upward, shading her eyes. The topmost branches swayed back and forth. “Franklin?” Moving to the other side of the tree, she caught sight of his face. His eyes were squeezed shut. Both arms and legs gripped the tree. “Can you hear me?”

  No response. The sisters echoed her call. Their shrill voices filled the air. “Come down, Franklin!”

  “You girls stay here with your brother while I go for help,” Helen ordered quietly.

  Franklin had sharp ears. “No! Don’t leave me!” he screeched.

  “I saw Guy, the gardener, mowing the grass only a short distance from here,” Helen tried to assure him.

  Franklin shook his head. “You can’t go; I’ll fall. You must come and catch me.”

  “But someone must get help. I cannot climb a tree!” Helen protested.

  “Help me!”

  The panic in his voice prevailed over fear and propriety. “Avril, find someone to help.”

  Avril nodded. “Do you want me to take Patsy?”

  “Aye.” Catching hold of a stout branch, Helen swung into the tree and began to work her way upward. “Hurry, girls!” Tree-climbing was not as easy as she remembered. Her shoes slipped on the rough bark. Her cumbersome skirts snagged on twigs and bark.

  A stout branch beneath Franklin’s perch supported Helen’s weight. Gripping another branch with one hand, she stood on tiptoe and touched the boy’s ankle. “You could slide into my arms, Franklin. I am here to catch you.”

  Freckles looked dark upon his white cheeks. His face scrunched into a mass of wrinkles. “You’re too small. You would drop me!”

  “I am stronger than I look,” Helen said.

  “Helen?” A deep voice inquired from below.

  Helen looked down. The world tilted. Oliver Kirby’s upturned face appeared distant, and the girls’ faces were small dots.

  “I’m coming up.”

  Helen tried to focus on a distant hill, but that one downward glance had destroyed her equilibrium. No wonder poor Franklin was afraid to move! “Dear Lord God, please strengthen our fainting hearts and bring us safely back to earth,” she prayed aloud. “Thank You for sending Oliver to our aid.”

  Closing her eyes, she slithered her feet along the branch until she could hug the main bough. Another gust of wind made the tree wave and groan. Helen’s groan followed shortly thereafter.

  “I’m right beneath you.” Oliver said. “Can you move to that fork in the branch there? Otherwise I must climb around you to reach Franklin.”

  “I can move.” Helen extended one shaky foot and tried to release her death-grip on the bough. Oliver guided her foot to a safe place, then shinnied up far enough to hold her waist while she shifted her weight to the other branches. He held her arm even after she was securely seated.

  “I will be all right now. Please help Franklin.”

  “You are certain?” His fingers squeezed gently. Today he wore no gloves. His sleeves were rolled up, revealing hairy forearms. Resisting the urge to grab hold around his neck, Helen nodded.

  Through a haze of dread, Helen watched Oliver coax Franklin into his arms. With the boy hanging like a sack on his back, Oliver climbed down the tree. Although Helen could not distinguish Oliver’s words, his kindly voice gave her comfort.

  “Come down, Cousin Helen. Franklin is safe now.” Avril’s shout penetrated Helen’s fears.

  Four faces looked pale against the green grass far below. Helen felt a tear spill over and hated herself. “I can’t!” she whispered.

  Oliver gathered the children around. Helen opened her eyes in time to see her three charges dash across the lawn, giggling and shouting. Patsy tripped over her dress and fell but she hopped up without a cry and chased the others.

  Oliver scrambled up the tree. “I sent the children to gather wildflowers,” he confessed while still several branches beneath her. She noticed how he avoided glancing upward lest he inadvertently look up her skirts. “I thought you might find it easier to descend without an audience. Are you injured, Helen?”

  “No.” A sob escaped. “I am a fool.”

  “I suspected as much,” he said in that bantering tone she despised. “How do you come to acknowledge it?” He panted slightly as he pulled himself to her level. His hands each gripped a branch, one on either side of her legs. His hair glistened with strands of gold and silver where sunbeams touched it. Deep lines framed his mouth.

  Helen wiped away a tear. “I did well until I looked down.”

  He chuckled, showing white teeth. “You will notice that I avoid looking down. Such height would frighten any person of sense. Franklin chose the largest tree in the park for his first attempt at climbing.”

  “The fault is mine. I encouraged them to climb. I thought it would be good exercise.” Knowing that sooner or later Oliver would have to touch her, Helen felt her heart rate increasing. His kindness was more unnerving than his derision.

  “And so it is. You are the best thing to come to this manor in many a long year, Helen.”

  Doubting his sincerity, Helen looked into his eyes. They were blue, she realized. How dark they had seemed beneath his thick brows! Beautiful eyes in an otherwise hawkish face.

  Releasing her grip on the branches, she reached a hand toward him. His palm was warm and rough. One of her feet slipped, but Oliver caught her by the elbow. “Take care. If you fall, I am here to catch you.”

  Oliver coaxed her to follow his lead. His arms and legs were like a safety net around her. He seldom touched her, but she felt his body heat at all times, he was so close. Helen frequently clutched at his arms and found herself leaning in order to feel his solid chest against her back.

  “Hold to the tree, Helen. It is stronger than I,” he reminded her more than once. Helen began to wonder if she were dreaming.

  At last Oliver hopped to the ground and reached both arms toward her. Interpreting this as an invitation to jump, she let go of the tree and dropped. Oliver managed to break her fall, but her impetus landed him flat upon the grass. Locked together, they rolled over like a log and came to rest side by side. Helen stared into his eyes. “I beg your pardon!”


  Oliver stared back. Silence stretched long until Helen felt her face grow hot. She attempted to get up, but Oliver’s encircling arms restrained her as if she were a butterfly, using just enough force to keep her from fluttering away. She placed both hands against his chest, yet she did not push. His heart pounded against her palms.

  Then he released her and quickly stood, facing away from her with his arms crossed. “Here come the children. I must warn you that Franklin will not like your knowing about his fear.”

  “And I am not pleased that he knows about my fear,” Helen admitted shakily. “I hope this is not something he can use against me.”

  Laughing and chattering, two little girls trotted across the green lawn. “We brought you flowers, Cousin Helen!”

  Avril dropped daisies into Helen’s lap. Patsy showered her with dandelions and tiny blue flowers that had already wilted beyond recognition. Franklin approached more slowly, wearing a smirk that should have put Helen on her guard.

  “Let’s make daisy chains,” Helen suggested. Crossing her legs to make a table of her lap, she began to sort through the flowers. She hoped the children had not witnessed that embrace. Did it really happen or did I dream it?

  Oliver turned. “I must return to work. I am pleased to see you and the children enjoying these gardens. I have often lamented the fact that only Diocletian and I appeared to appreciate their beauty. The gardeners work hard to keep this place up.”

  Helen scanned her surroundings and slowly shook her head—the brilliant hues of spring bulbs, the pale green of new leaves like a mist upon every tree, the smooth lawns. “ ‘Enjoying’ scarcely begins to express how such beauty affects me. This place is a tiny foretaste of heaven.”

  Looking up at Oliver, she added, “Many thanks for your aid, and God be with you, Oliver Kirby.” His name was pleasant upon her lips.

  “And with you, Helen Walker. Helping you affords me unparalleled diversion.” His eyes twinkled, but this time Helen did not mind.

  “Did Avril run all the way to the stables to find you?” she suddenly thought to ask.