Pursuing Miss Hall by Karen Thornell

Chapter Seven

Meg leaned her head back, attempting to allow the sun’s rays past her bonnet brim and onto her face. Servants moved around the table, at which several of the guests sat finishing their meals. Meg attempted to ignore the presence of two servants in particular. One was a footman assigned specifically to watch over her every comfort and see to it she did not over-exert herself. The other was her lady’s maid, who had essentially the same role, but was more understandable to be filling it. She could not begrudge her parents the extra vigilance, but she still wished she were able to fully enjoy her first day out of doors without the excess of fluttering concern about her.

“It is a beautiful day, is it not?” Miss Louisa Evans spoke from beside her. Her voice was as quiet as her frame was small.

“Yes, it has been far too long since . . .” She faltered. Mama had suggested that morning that perhaps Meg ought not to mention her illness to the group. It would not do for her husband to think her weak, a liability. Instead, they had informed the party they simply chose to delay her first Season. “Since I have had a picnic,” she finished.

“Oh, myself as well. Our grounds are not so wooded as these, and it is terribly difficult to find a nice, shaded area for such an outing.” Miss Evans looked around appreciatively, her yellow bonnet framing her face nicely. Most would not call her pretty, and at twenty and four years, she was nearly to the age where she would be deemed a spinster, but there was a softness about the woman that made her appearance appear sweeter. And her teeth were far smaller than her brother’s.

However, Meg disagreed with the woman’s comments. Personally, she was wishing this area was far less shaded. How cruel to be out of doors yet feel only a small amount of sun on her face. But she could not say that, so instead, she nodded and murmured a half-hearted agreement.

With his brow less creased than usual, Mr. Parking came to stand beside their chairs, reaching his hand out to Miss Evans. It would seem he had recognized the inner beauty in the woman as well. “Miss Evans, would you take a stroll through the trees with me?” Miss Evans nodded eagerly, her light-brown curls bouncing against her forehead, and stood to join him.

“And would you care to join us, Miss Hall?” Mr. Parking asked her then, likely out of gentlemanly duty and not a true desire for her company.

“I am quite all right just now, but I thank you.”

He nodded and bowed. Miss Evans bid her farewell.

Meg closed her eyes as they walked away. Blessed solitude.

A shadow crossed the left side of her face.

“Miss Hall, would you join me for a walk?”

Meg looked up to see the viscount blocking what little sun had been filtering down onto her, replacing the light with a bright-yellow waistcoat that, though similar in color, had none of the same pleasurable effect. He stood with all the confidence of a man who had never been refused in his life. She smiled, rather than groaning as she would have liked, and nodded. In truth, she would love a walk. Alone.

Or with Nathan, actually.

Coming to her feet, she took Lord Hatfield’s proffered arm and looked about as they began walking from the table. Where was Nathan? Oh, there he was, in conversation with Mr. Evans. He caught her eye and winked. Meg stumbled.

“Are you quite all right, Miss Hall?”

“Oh yes. I just did not see that . . . root there,” Meg murmured, despite the lack of anything on the ground near them. “Where would you like to walk?”

Lord Hatfield pointed to a copse of trees to their left. “That area seems particularly shaded and cool. Shall we?”

More shade.“Yes, of course.”

“What amusement are our elders enjoying this morning?” Lord Hatfield asked as they entered the trees.

“I believe the ladies are enjoying a quiet morning of embroidery, but I am unsure what my father and Mr. Evans are doing.” Only the younger group had come for the picnic since Mama declared the elder members of the party would object to an afternoon out of doors. Why, Meg couldn’t guess. A light breeze rustled her skirts, and the leaves on the trees swished together soothingly. The sun broke through the canopy in occasional pillars of light, and there was that stillness that only nature could provide. It was glorious. Still, the serene beauty was a direct contrast to the uproar of that morning in her father’s study, determining how to safely allow Meg to be outdoors without her parents. Hence the footman and maid, the latter of which trailed after Meg and Lord Hatfield now. The footman had been called to help pack up the picnic.

“I am glad to hear it. My mother would not have done well on the trek out here, and she is sensitive to sun exposure. It was kind of Lady Hall to have considered that and kept them all indoors.”

Meg looked up at the viscount, surprised, before nodding in agreement. Silently, she chastised her previous assumptions. Of course Mama had been acting thoughtfully in her actions. She did nothing without thoroughly thinking it through. Meg would do well to follow her example. Perhaps Mama was correct in her thoughts on the match between Meg and Lord Hatfield as well. Meg looked again at the man in question.

“You seem to care a great deal for your mother, Lord Hatfield. It reflects well on you.”

“She is my mother,” he responded, looking far more vulnerable than his confident, flamboyant clothing choices made him seem.

“Yes, but not all men are as considerate as you, even in regards to their own parents.” She stepped over a stick jutting out of the path as she spoke.

“A man who does not care for his parents is no man at all,” he stated.

Meg tilted her head up to regard him curiously. This version of Lord Hatfield was far better than the gentleman who had droned on about his clothing choices and magnificent tailor the night before. Perhaps that was all a facade? Could she come to know him well enough to desire the match that Mama so wished for?

They continued in comfortable conversation for the duration of their walk, perhaps a quarter of an hour, before Lord Hatfield indicated they should return. Meg was surprised to find she had enjoyed herself. As they retraced their steps, Meg studied him surreptitiously. He was an attractive enough man with blond hair and a firm jaw. His build was on the leaner side but of average height. Close to Nathan’s if she had to guess. His nose was crooked, and his eyebrows were rather heavy, but even still, he was certainly a fantastic catch.

She did not feel the toe-curling, stomach-fluttering sensation she had read about in the gothic novels that had entertained her while she was still bedridden, but perhaps the two of them could get on well regardless. It would certainly make her family happy. And she did not dislike him.

They returned to the clearing where the rest of their group was gathered. Meg looked at the conversing couples and groups. Mr. Parking and Miss Evans had returned, and were conversing with Miss Parking. Miss Caroline seemed to be jabbering Mr. Simon Parking’s ear off, and he seemed to be ignoring her as he ate a small sandwich and leaned against a tree, his eyes half closed. A handful of servants milled about, seeing to their charges. Her gaze passed over each of these interactions, seeking one person in particular.

Ah, there.Nathan stood slightly to the side of the gathering, close to the trees, watching their arrival. As soon as Lord Hatfield released her arm and bowed, Nathan started forward. Meg’s heart took up a faster beat.

“Miss Hall, if you are not too fatigued, would you care for a stroll with me?”

Meg curtsied to Lord Hatfield, whose genial expression had darkened somewhat, before turning to Nathan. “That would be delightful, Mr. Blake.” She took his arm, and with a smile, he guided her in the opposite direction, toward the place where the trees thinned and the sun filtered through more easily.

They traversed the ground at an easy speed. Soon, the party disappeared from their view—their forms swallowed up in the trees they had just escaped.

“How did you know I would want to walk in the sun?” Meg said after a minute or two. She lifted her head to the sky, and he slowed his step to allow for her inattention.

“Easy—I know you. Or perhaps it has something to do with you confessing your desire to feel the sun on your face hardly a week ago.” His voice held a note of laughter, and Meg warmed at the sound. Tension from constantly being on her best behavior nearly melted from her shoulders.

“That seems so long ago, does it not? I feel as if my whole life has changed between then and now. I can only imagine how I will feel in a month’s time if Mama has her way.”

“Engaged, you mean?” The lightness in his voice sounded forced this time.

“Yes, of course. That is the point of this party, is it not?”

He didn’t answer for a moment. “Yes, I suppose it is.”

The silence felt less comfortable than usual, as if secrets lay between them. But that was ridiculous; Meg and Nathan had never harbored secrets, even when they were but ten and fourteen. Perhaps he simply did not wish to talk about the party. He had told her often enough of his dislike for large gatherings. She should change the topic.

“But let us not talk of that now. How is your mother?”

“Much better. She should be well enough for tomorrow’s musicale.”

“I am glad to hear it. Mama has certainly planned a great deal of activities for us, has she not?” And just like that, Meg had managed to bring the conversation back to the party. She wrinkled her nose. Perhaps she was not the proficient conversationalist she’d believed. Not that she’d ever needed to worry about what she said to Nathan before now. This whole party was addling her brains.

“I believe your mother has finally found her calling,” Nathan responded, the barely suppressed entertainment blessedly having returned to his voice.

“Oh? And what is that?”

“Party planning, of course. She seems to thrive on the chaos of it.”

Meg could not help laughing. “You are likely correct. She has seemed happier this past week than I have seen her in months. At first, I flattered myself it must be my improved health and the prospect of me marrying . . . but no, I believe you are correct. It is only the party.” Meg laughed again but broke off when Nathan pulled her to a stop, tilting his head to look at her seriously.

“You cannot truly believe that.”

“Believe what?”

“That her happiness does not stem from your health and wellbeing and your potential happiness.”

“Oh.” Meg untwined her arm from Nathan’s, walking ahead a few paces. The trees were few here, and the hills rolled beautifully ahead of them. A stream trickled somewhere nearby. It had been far too long since she had explored their property.

“Meg?”

Her shoulders tensed, and she sighed.

“It ought to be ‘Miss Hall,’ you know. During the party, I mean.”

“No one is here, Meg. It is just us. Well, and your maid, but Sarah likes me.” He gestured behind them to where Sarah was ambling along at a slow pace.

Meg laughed, but it felt hollow. “No. I was trying to answer your question. Poorly, it would seem.” She turned to face him again.

His handsome face twisted in apparent confusion or potentially from the sunlight blocking his view.

Meg sighed. “I am unsure what brings my mother happiness just now. All I know is what she tells me. To her, it is important that I am viewed with the utmost propriety during the party. Nothing can be out of place, not a hair nor a character trait. She asked me not to inform the party of my illness, you know, or my talent with numbers.”

Nathan blinked, then scoffed. “You must be joking. Why would she do that?”

“I suppose because they are flaws, Nathan. I only ever saw them as part of me, much as I wish my sickness this last year was not. But I never saw them as flaws.” She shrugged, taking another step away and averting her eyes once more.

“That is because they are not!” Nathan strode to her, and when she did not immediately look up, he put his hand under her chin and gently forced her gaze to meet his. She was surprised at the fire she saw there. “Meg, you are the least flawed person I know. Your mother simply has her priorities confused. I believe she loves you so much that she is stumbling along haphazardly in her attempts to make you happy. But that does not mean your sickness or your quick mind or any of your other wonderful traits are flaws. Someone else’s judgments will always reflect more on them than on you. And in this instance, your mother’s misplaced words show only her complete dearth of prudence. Nothing else.”

His chest heaved as he spoke, and his gray eyes searched hers, as if he seemed to think he could force her to believe his words if only he spoke passionately enough. She nearly did believe him. It was hard to, though, when her mind was so confused with her mother’s requests, the dozen new people that had overrun her house, and the something she felt between her and Nathan just now.

She became keenly aware of his hand still cradling her face and his close, close proximity to her. Heat rose up her neck, and she took a step back. His hand fell to his side.

“Thank you, Nathan. It is kind of you to say.”

“Yes. Well, I am a kind person.”

She tried to smile at him, but it fell flat. What was happening to her comfortable, consistent life? A week ago, she would have given nearly anything to be outside in the sun like this. But now? Now she just wanted to be in her father’s study, tallying up the dependable numbers that never caused her to question herself or her emotions.

“Come.” Nathan’s words urged her thoughts to the present. Any awkwardness had been wiped from his person, and he grinned at her expectantly. “We should return soon, but I wish to show you something and do not know when I will next have the chance.” He encased her hand in his, sending warmth tingling up to her elbow, and pulled her along.

Sarah followed behind them some paces back. Within a minute, they had crested a small hill.

“The stream!”

“Yes,” Nathan said, smiling as he assisted her down the incline toward the small but quickly moving mass of water. “Someone built a footbridge a few months ago, and if you follow the path for a couple minutes, it leads to the most beautiful view of your father’s estate.”

Meg followed him, smiling. “Do you remember when we played pirates on this stream? I swear it was far larger then than it is now.”

“Well it does grow impressively with rain, but I imagine that your recollection of its magnitude had more to do with our size than its.”

A laugh escaped Meg. Yes, they had been quite young. She couldn’t have been more than six or seven. However had she convinced her nursemaid to allow her out of the house when she was meant to be playing quietly in the nursery, not gallivanting about her father’s lands? Nathan had likely sweet-talked the old lady.

A smile grew on her lips as she walked with Nathan, his hand loosely holding her own in that comfortable way they had. It was relieving that they’d at last returned to this ease of companionship after the awkwardness of before. They should return to the party though. Clouds were creeping across the sky and stealing the sunshine anyway. But what was another five minutes?

The footbridge, really just a few slats of wood nailed together, was hardly large enough for one person. So Nathan crossed first, then leaned across to help Meg. She had to take a couple steps before reaching his hand, but as soon as she grasped it, he pulled her across firmly, causing her to stumble into him.

“Oops.” He grinned as she leaned heavily against his chest, attempting to regain her balance. “I think I am a little too excited about this view. It’s likely not even as spectacular as I remember; I just recall thinking you would enjoy it.”

Meg grinned back at him, righting herself and shaking out her skirt. “It is no problem. We must be near the Smithson family cottage too. I wish there was time to stop and check on them. Mrs. Smithson had just had her second baby when last I saw them. That child must be nearing three-quarters of a year now.”

“I know a few handy ways of getting in and out of your house if you ever wish to pay them a visit.” He waggled his eyebrows.

Meg laughed.

“No, thank you. I have no desire to climb out any windows anytime soon. Can you imagine how my parents would worry if I did?”

“True. Very well, we shall simply have to make do with viewing the cottage briefly, then I will return you to your suitors.”

“Suddenly the window doesn’t sound half bad,” Meg grumbled, picking her way up the steepest part of the hill.

Nathan’s smile grew. “I cannot tell you how good it is to hear you say that.”

“What do you—oh.”

They had reached the view, and it was truly breathtaking.

Hertfordshire could not boast many large hills, but it had small ones aplenty, and the one they stood on was just high enough that they could see for miles. The Smithson cottage was nestled not far below them, into a hill neighboring the one on which they stood, and other cottages dotted the hills and plains within their view. More wooded areas speckled the landscape, and sheep were grazing near one such area to the north. The sun was not nearly so strong as it had been even a half hour ago, and the wind blew its cooling air around them. It was peaceful. Comfortable. She leaned slightly against Nathan’s arm when he settled beside her.

“So, you like it?”

“It is beautiful. I cannot believe I have not been here before.”

“It is thanks to that footbridge. The stream may be small, but it is too large to pass in a leap, even for me, and this spot is fairly far from the main road into your father’s estate. It would have been incredible luck to stumble on it without crossing the stream.”

“Well, I love it. Thank you for showing me, Nathan. But . . .” She gazed across the landscape wistfully, then turned to face him. “We really ought to return. Someone may come looking for us shortly.”

Something splashed on the top of Meg’s bonnet. She looked up and was instantly hit in the eye with a raindrop. The clouds that had been gathering were, apparently, rain clouds.

Nathan looked down at her, alarmed. “No matter. We will simply have to hurry back. I am sure—”

And then, with an enormous crack of thunder that felt as if it pierced her very stomach with its rumbling blast, the heavens broke loose. A dousing in a lake likely would have left Meg drier than she was not ten seconds later.

Nathan looked around frantically, and Sarah rushed closer to them. “We have to get her inside, Sarah!” he bellowed above the tumult.

Meg’s heart began to pound as her gaze swung between Sarah and Nathan. The doctor had said her severe case of croup, far worse than any case even he had seen before, would easily flare up should she come down with another cold. Her breath seized in her throat as she remembered the pain, fear, and fog of semi-consciousness that had plagued her for two months. How close to leaving this world she had been.

“The Smithson’s, Mr. Blake! Go—run! I will follow!”

Nathan did not hesitate but pulled Meg’s hand and began to run. Startled, she stumbled along behind him for several seconds before he skidded to a stop, staring at her discerningly through sheets of water. As if making a sudden decision, he stepped closer and lifted her into his arms with ease. Then he took off running down the hill again.

She was not sure if it was his heavy breathing, thunder and rain tearing through the air, or her own fear pulsing in her veins, but she could hardly hear anything above a continuous drone of sound. At some point, she imagined he yelled down to her, but her shock and the rain falling like hammers around them made focusing impossible. His footing slipped, but he regained his balance, and Meg tightened her arms around his neck, burying her face in his already soaked cravat. Vaguely, she noticed her bonnet had fallen off, taken by the storm and her loosening of it during their walk. It made her feel even more exposed, and she gripped Nathan tighter. She held on as if he alone could keep the threat of sickness away from her.

In only a few minutes—or perhaps it was longer—Nathan was pounding on the wooden door of the cottage. It flew open, and he pushed his way inside, not awaiting a greeting.

Warmth surrounded them, but still, Meg did not let go of Nathan. Did not even look up.

He was safe. If she stayed right here, she would remain safe. Her breathing came fast, but his was faster. His arms constricted around her while voices sounded in the room. Her wet clothes were heavy, pulling against her legs. Water fell in rivulets from the top of her head and down her jaw. Everything was so wet. Her very bones must be sodden. And she could not stop the sudden shaking that had started at some point.

“Mr. Blake? That isn’t . . . Miss Hall? Oh dear—Samuel! Samuel, come quick!”

Footsteps pounded from the back of the house as the front door opened and closed again. Sarah murmured something, and Nathan began walking again.

Still, Meg couldn’t bring herself to pull away from Nathan’s arms. A shiver racked her body.

If she simply did not move, remaining safe in Nathan’s embrace, then death could not come back for her, could not breathe down her neck yet again. Another shiver sped through her.

At least, she hoped it would not.

***

The musicale was pushed back a day, allowing for the guests to rest and recuperate from the events of the day before. The picnickers had been caught in the deluge as well, but being closer to the house, they had been able to return fairly unscathed.

Meg, Nathan, and Sarah, on the other hand, had been stuck at the Smithsons’ for the better half of the afternoon. The Smithsons had fed them and provided dry clothes, but no amount of kind conversation or good food could shake the feeling of tense melancholy that seemed to surround the group. Even Nathan had been subdued, not sharing one jest and hardly even smiling when Meg caught him surveying her. At one point, Nathan and Mr. Smithson had attempted to leave the house to determine if they could get a message back to the Halls, but the stream had been unpassable, and the roads had practically become rivers themselves.

By the time the rain had ceased, the sun had begun its trek down the sky to nighttime. Nathan had walked home and returned with Meg’s father, numerous heavy cloaks, and horses for Meg and Sarah to ride back to the estate. The roads had been too muddy for a carriage.

And now, after a full thirty-six hours in bed and three visits from the physician, Meg had been declared incredibly lucky. And safe.

“I believe you must thank Mr. Blake and your daughter’s maid, Lady Hall. Without their quick thinking and actions, we could be having a far different conversation just now,” the physician had said before packing his bag for the final time and slipping from the house without the other guests’ knowledge. Mama had collapsed into sobs, hugging Meg, who’d patted her back consolingly.

Meg felt similar relief. The fear had been overwhelming: fear of what could have happened, fear of sitting at death’s door begging to remain with her family for another minute, another hour, another day. Even now, as she dressed for the musicale, she still shivered to think on it. Every tickle of her throat led her to stop and internally check that she still felt well.

It was silly, but she could not help it.

“Right lucky Mr. Blake was there, miss,” Sarah remarked as she twisted Meg’s hair up and pinned it in place. “I don’t believe I’ve ever seen a man so scared as he was. Excepting maybe your father during those few weeks this winter when things were especially bad for you, miss.”

“Yes,” Meg murmured. “I was incredibly lucky he was there. Have you seen him since, Sarah?”

Sarah’s lips twisted slyly, and she adjusted a curl that swept down over Meg’s shoulders. “Only about five times, miss. Though I’ve no clue how he got in each time since it wasn’t through the front door.”

Meg laughed. That was Nathan all right. He had probably intended to surprise her into good spirits. Too bad he had been caught.

“Made me swear you were truly healthy before he would leave the last time. Still scared out of his mind, I think.”

Meg stilled. Had he truly been worried and not simply attempting to lighten her fear?

Of course he was worried.They were friends. It only made sense.

What didn’t make sense, however, was the tight burning in her chest that warmed when she thought of his concern.