[Previously: Lavinia hoped to have had word from her mysterious rescuer, but none has been forthcoming. Nor was she able to detect him among the various visitors who have stopped by to welcome her and her father to the neighborhood. Will she ever see him again?]
* *
Of Cedric they had seen very little. He was occupied about the estate, for this was harvest time and there was much to do. Mostly he was out during the day, returning in the evenings but sometimes not until late; too late, usually, to join them for dinner. Once he excused himself because of a severe headache. Finally, a little more than a sennight into their stay Lavinia saw him in the stable yard as he was preparing to depart for an extended visit to the outlying farms.
At first he wasn't aware of her presence. He was chatting with a couple of the grooms, and it was clear that they liked him. One of them said something to make them all laugh and, even though she was too far away to hear the joke, she couldn't help but smile upon hearing the sound of Cedric's laughter. It pulled an unconscious response from her which, now that she felt it, she realized she'd had it before. But there was no time to analyse it because the Earl caught up with her at that moment, calling her name and asking if she were ready for their ride. The group in the yard heard his voice and instantly the mood of the place changed.
The change in Cedric was the most marked. Gone was the relaxed, happy young man she'd seen just a moment before. Once again she was confronted with the formal, awkward Cedric whom she'd first met, and she wondered if the Earl was a harsher relative and employer than he appeared. There was no real evidence to support this notion, however, so she said nothing about it, merely wishing Cedric a good journey as he mounted his horse. He thanked her cordially, a shy smile on his face, but there was something in his expression that she could not quite identify even while it tugged, inexplicably, at her heart. He turned his horse, to draw abreast of the baggage-ladened gig and the servant who was waiting to accompany him, and the moment passed, too brief to hold an active place in her memory, especially since she didn't see Cedric again until the evening of the Earl's dinner party.
She was looking forward to this event, although with somewhat less enthusiasm than when it had first been proposed to her. Of the Avenger, or his possible true persona, there had been no sign, so Lavinia did not hold out much hope of his suddenly revealing himself at the Earl's dinner party. A little hurt not to have heard anything at all from him, she yet held fond memories of their brief ride together and, if only given the chance, would have been delighted to further her acquaintance with him.
As the days of her visit passed, however, it seemed less and less likely that she would ever see him again. She heard about him, of course, since Jeanne conveyed to her any news which reached the servants' quarters through the country gossip chain. It pleased her to know that he was safe and still protecting Kentham and its people, but not even that knowledge could totally relieve her sense of loss.
* * *
Suppressing a weary sigh he quietly let himself in through his bedroom window. He'd been out longer than he'd hoped. The house was dark and quiet. Soundlessly he laid down his sword and took off his boots before venturing further into the room. He moved towards the door and stood, listening intently. Nothing ... good.
The fire having died down to embers some time ago, he began to undress quickly, wincing a bit at the soreness he felt across his right shoulder blade. That one robber had nearly had him!
"I wonder where he learned that trick," he mused to himself. He wasn't used to these common lawbreakers knowing any subtleties of hand-fighting. Most of them seemed content to rely upon sheer, brute strength.
Dressed only in his breeches and socks now, he kindled a taper from the embers in the fireplace and lit one candle. Bringing it over to the mirror, and turning slightly, he tried to examine the damage to his back.
"Not too bad," he muttered, looking at the bruises. "I've had worse." Cautiously he rotated his right arm--his sword arm--testing it and decided there had been no serious damage. He fetched and applied the arnica as best he could, rotating the shoulder again, noting that the soreness seemed less. A bit of rest and he'd be fine.
He was beginning to shiver now, so he turned his back on the mirror and carried the candle to his bedside. He finished undressing and put on his nightdress, carefully folding the clothing he'd removed and placing his mask on the top of the bundle. Tired as he was he still took the time to hide the bundle of clothes along with anything else that might raise suspicions or cause awkward questions to be asked. He knew his life depended on keeping this side of himself a secret.
Finally pulling back the blankets, he blew out the candle and prepared to get into his cold bed. As he waited for the bedclothes to absorb his own warmth and return it back to him, he reviewed the evening's work. Two more robbers in the hands of the law; two fewer thieves who could threaten and steal. The poor old souls he'd rescued this night had been touchingly grateful! But, as the bed finally began to feel warm, and as his tired, aching muscles began to relax, his thoughts were no longer centered on this night's rescue, but rather upon an earlier, very different one.
His hand reached under his pillow and immediately found what he sought. The delicately-made square of fine linen and lace still held, faintly, her lovely scent. Bringing it to his lips again, as he did each night, he kissed it.
If only he could openly approach her, thank her for this gift that he treasured, assure her of his regard for her ...! But, that was not possible. He had accepted the responsibility he now carried and he would not put it down, not while the reason for his secret role still existed.
Returning her handkerchief to its hiding place under his pillow, the for-the-moment-unmasked Avenger settled himself for sleep, remembering every moment of their short time together.
Sadly, though, the only way he could get close to the woman of his dreams, was in his dreams.
* * *
The dinner party was scheduled for a fortnight after the Le Mersurers' arrival at Kentham. The weather continued chilly but rather mild for the time of year, and only once had rain interfered with Lucius' and Lavinia's daily ride. Evenings were usually spent quietly with just the three of them to keep each other company, but occasionally a guest or two would be invited to dine and play cards. Twice Lavinia and her father were included in invitations for the Earl to dine at his neighbours' homes.
Everyone had been exceedingly kind, Lavinia knew, and in the peacefulness of the English countryside, she found some balm for her wounded spirit. Her father was so pleased with the riches he continued to discover in the Earl's library, and with the progress of his studies that he had recovered his usual tranquil demeanour; no longer haunted by the events surrounding their flight. A few days into their visit, Lavinia had stopped preparing an herbal tea to help him sleep.
Kentham had worked its magic on her as well, she had to admit. The exercise of the daily rides had renewed her energy, and the quiet nights had done much to restore her own peace of mind. It made her realize just how deeply she'd been affected by the dirt and racket of London's streets. Yet, even while she could draw strength from this pastoral setting, sometimes it also served to remind her of all that she'd left behind in France.
She tried not to let those sad thoughts linger, however, and mostly she succeeded. The days followed one another, and she found herself slipping into a routine: riding and strolling with the Earl, visiting or being visited by one of the ladies in the neighbourhood, assisting her father in the library and finding time to indulge in some reading of her own.
They couldn't trespass on the Earl's hospitality indefinitely, though, and Lavinia wondered how she and her father would support themselves, as she knew they eventually would have to do. No one, she believed, would consider hiring a woman to be a steward, such as Cedric was, although to Lavinia's mind that was unfair. Considering all that she'd done with her own estate, she was certainly qualified. As for her father, he had always been better at study and research than teaching, so it was unlikely that he'd be able to retain a position at a school, even if he could acquire one in the first place.
It flitted through her mind that if she were married to Lucius, they could stay at Kentham for the rest of their lives, but she quickly dismissed that notion. She was growing to love Kentham but, although the Earl was becoming more particular in his attentions, she wasn't at all sure that she would be able to love him. For the moment, it was easy to keep him at a distance, and he seemed content to allow her whatever time and space she needed, for which she was grateful. She longed for the counsel of Pere Michel, her confessor for many years, but it occurred to her that she might find in Cedric an alternate and helpful confidant. He had seemed like a sensible person, the little she'd seen of him, and he was due to return to Kentham around the time of Lucius' dinner party. Since his skills apparently closely matched her own, he might have some suggestions for her.
As the time for the party drew near, Lucius shared with her nearly daily updates on the progress of the plans. Always a witty companion, he applied his clever tongue with such skill in describing those personages available to attend, that Lavinia and her father were sometimes left in doubt as to whether or not Lucius considered himself above such a provincial gathering. His cook, however, he assured them, an exceedingly charming smile taking any possible sting out of his words, was fully capable of making up for any deficiencies of conversation, and "we may be able indulge in some impromptu dancing afterwards, for those who do not enjoy cards."
* * *
Cedric was fully occupied also: visiting the Earl's tenants on the various farms, checking on the progress of the harvests, and seeing to any needed improvements. His days were so full that when he fell into bed each night he should have been able to drop off to sleep immediately. More often than not, though, he found himself lying awake at least part of each night as memories of Lavinia replayed in his mind: her smile, her singing, the way she had entered the breakfast parlour that first morning, the way she had laughed at his uncle's witticisms ... the way she had seemed to encourage Lucius' attentions.
There had been too few opportunities to truly observe her. As each day of his trip passed he wondered if Lavinia and his uncle were growing closer, or if she had yet begun to see how cruel Lucius could be. Would she be fooled by his charming ways, or would she be able to discern the true Lucius?
Cedric wanted to believe that she was too intelligent to be taken in for long. Perhaps this was just wishful thinking but he couldn't bring himself to see Lavinia as Lucius' future countess. A woman like her would want more than mere charm in a husband, surely! Wouldn't she want kindness, thoughtfulness ... wouldn't she want love? Lucius couldn't give her those; he didn't have them to give.
Since he wouldn't see them together again until after his uncle's planned dinner party, he could only hope that he was right about her.
