After he was done dressing, Harry left his rooms and went to his study. He would not be having supper with his family so did not join them for the customary sherry before they would be called to the dining room.
As he was surveying his desk, his eye was caught by Anna’s drawings. He picked several up and studied them. It was excellent work. She was a fine draftsman and it gave him the idea of going over to visit her with the excuse of discussing the well house. He knew it was not the appropriate time to do that, but he would feign excitement over her work and plead the excuse of not wanting to wait until after the memorial service. He was certain she would forgive him as the project meant so much to her.
However, what was really troubling him was his altercation with Percy over Anna. As much as he knew that Anna cared for Percy, he could not help but be troubled by Percy’s character—his deception of caring for Anna when he really loved Maria, troubled Harry greatly. He was tempted to ride over immediately and tell her all about Percy’s true intentions, but there was no time. He needed to leave for his dinner engagement in less than an hour.
* * *
Harry arrived at the Fitzwalker estate just a few minutes late. The gardener had put together a bouquet for him to take to Miss Nora.
“Ah, Lord Creassey, welcome. So happy you agreed to attend my little supper,” Miss Nora said as Harry was shown into her sitting room.
“Most gracious of you to invite me,” he said and handed her the bouquet.
“Oh, how lovely and thoughtful. Thank you.” She handed the flowers to the butler. “Come,” she said. She picked up a glass and handed it to him. “I thought a little champagne before dinner would be refreshing. And the view of the sunset from the terrace is most pleasing.”
Harry followed her through the French doors onto the terrace and up against the balustrade where she sat her champagne glass and studied the view. He stood next to her, took a sip from his glass, and said, “I see you are no longer limping. I hope you have healed completely from your fall.”
She turned to him and smiled. “I have. Thanks to your expert help and kind care.”
He wagged his head. “It was but little effort on my part.”
They turned together and watched in silence as the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky and the few clouds with deep reds, oranges, and purple and revealing the first bright points of starlight.
Miss Nora shivered and Harry suggested, “Shall we go back inside. It is remarkable how quickly the evening starts to cool once the sun has set.”
“Yes, a most excellent idea,” she said and led the way back to her chambers.
The butler was at hand to pour them another glass of champagne, and then stepped away.
It was obvious to Harry that this sitting room was a part of a group of rooms that made up Miss Nora’s personal chambers. He was puzzled why they were having drinks here instead of in one of the common, public rooms.
“Your Lordship…” she started, but then added, “Oh, that is so very formal. Might I call you Harry now? It seems so much friendlier, think you not?” She then reclined into a comfortable chair and gestured for him to sit as well. “And after all we have been through together, with my little plunge in the stream, it seems we can allow ourselves to be less formal now.”
“You may. I find that in the country many of us are less obsessed with the use of titles than in London.”
“And that is why I am so enamored of county living. I so enjoy my summers with my grandparents. It brings back memories of lazy, carefree days as a child—despite the inevitable bullying of my obnoxious brothers.” She giggled and held her glass out for the butler to top her off again.
They continued forward with innocuous talk of London life which Harry knew little about. She described the opera scene, expounded on the fashionable restaurants, and raved about her dearest friends who entertained weekly.
Presently she turned to the butler and said, “You may serve the dinner now.” Then she addressed Harry, “I have become quite famished. I believe there is a little nip in the air this evening—it seems to whet the appetite. Think you not?”
“Well, as for me, it is hard work with the cattle that makes me hungry. But then I seem to be hungry all the time. So, I am certainly ready to eat if you are, Miss Nora.”
“Ah, Harry, call me Nora, please?”
“Nora. I stand corrected.”
The butler wheeled in a table set for dinner and then returned with another cart with the dinner that was to be served.
“I hope you do not mind. I did not feel like a fancy, fussy sit-down dinner in the cavernous dining hall. This is so much more cozy and comfortable. Come. Let us sit.”
She stood and offered her hand to Harry. He arose and took it and she led him to the dinner table where they sat.
First, the butler topped off the champagne glasses again, and then he proceeded to serve a dinner of cold chicken in aspic with a mayonnaise sauce.
“That will be all, thank you,” Nora said, and the butler departed. “So much nicer to enjoy supper without all the fuss. I hope you like the chicken. It is one of my favorite dishes from home. I had the cook make it for me especially.”
Harry had to admit the dish was delicious, but he was becoming increasingly uncomfortable. A supper served in a lady’s chambers when there were no other guests nor family present in the house seemed to be inappropriate. But at the same time, he did not want to offend this charming lady.
