For unlike any other day, Kenneth found himself oddly distracted. The image of Lady Ruth as she appeared in his dream, kept surfacing in front of his mind’s eyes. He could not stop thinking of her and the way she so intrigued him.
Yes, he had to admit it to himself if to nobody else. Something about her had captivated him and he couldn’t help but think that there was something about her. Something that was, despite the scar – entirely beautiful.
Chapter 15
Ruth stood outside the old chapel in awe. When Lord Rotham told her of a chapel on the grounds of Goldclaw estate, she’d imagined a small, old wooden structure. This building was made entirely of stone and it was large enough to serve not just the family, but perhaps a small parish as well.
Adjacent to the building was a small private cemetery with moss-covered headstones and a rusted fence. She shuddered as she always did near a cemetery and headed toward the heavy oak door, nestled in an archway.
The coachman had stepped off the box seat and was seated with his back against a tree, a snuff box in hand, while Charlotte hovered near the barouche, waiting for Ruth to enter.
Ruth stepped inside the chapel, pulling her pale-blue pelisse closer against her the moment she entered. It was cool out today and cooler still within the walls of the small stone structure.
She glanced around, taking in the space. There were eight rows of pews on either side. Beautifully embroidered seat cushions lined the benches and matching kneelers were placed with them. They were of a royal blue background with floral displays and designs stitched upon them. Ruth stepped to the pew nearest to her and picked up one, running her hand over it.
“I made that one,” Charlotte said behind her. Ruth turned, having almost forgotten she was not alone.
“You did?”
She nodded and pointed at the seams. “You can see where it was made by someone unskilled. I’m no seamstress, which is why the housekeeper does not task me with any of the mending in the manor. I don’t do a good enough job.” She shrugged and shook her head.
“Have you made all of these?”
“Heaven forwent, no!” Charlotte exclaimed. “Her Grace had the grand idea of establishing a church on the grounds, for the tenants and servants. She had the idea of installing a vicar and had us all make cushions and kneelers in anticipation. That is when she had the organ installed.”
“Anyhow, this all happened during the London Season while His Grace was in London. Upon his return, he swiftly did away with the idea, given the parish already had a vicar with a living wage bestowed upon him.”
Ruth frowned. “I wonder what gave her the idea.” She walked along the aisle between the pews and admired the beautiful stained-glass windows.
“I swear ‘pon my soul it was because she took a visit to her sister’s estate in Devon and she had a parsonage on her estate. Thus, Her Grace aspired to the same. Alas, His Grace was not content at having this chapel for only the families’ personal worship. It was quite the point of contention between them.”
Ruth smiled as she looked back at the young girl. She’d not heard Charlotte talk quite so much before.
“Listen to me, aren’t I the gabster? I am sorry, my lady. I ought not to talk to you in such a manner. It is quite uncouth. Forgive me.”
“Nothing to forgive, my dear.” A scent of wet wood, musty and unpleasant, clung in the air.
“Would you mind if I light a candle? For my father,” Charlotte asked. She pointed toward a candle stand at the front, near the altar.
Ruth nodded and watched as the maid walked to the opposite side of the chapel.
She found herself unable to look away while Charlotte picked up the tinderbox from the stand. Ruth stared as Charlotte removed the lid, extracted the steel piece, and struck the flint against the steel, holding it over the tinder until the sparks ignited the tinder. Charlotte leaned over the box, gently blowing on the tinder until a match could be applied to it in order to light the candle. It wasn’t until the candle was lit and both match and tinder were extinguished that Ruth relaxed.
Only then did she make her way toward the opposite side of the chapel, where the object of her journey was located: The organ.
It was a simple instrument made of oak. Unlike the organ at her parish church, it was unadorned and much smaller. The bench before it was made of a different material, standing out against the instrument. She stepped up to it and examined the pipes before lifting the cover over the keys. She slid into the seat and placed her fingers on the black and white keys. Closing her eyes, she started to play a melody, bracing herself against the harsh tones she expected it would produce when –
“Goodness, it plays rather well.”
Ruth nodded as she continued to play. It would need tuning, there was no doubt about it, but the condition of the instrument was not half as bad as she’d expected. In fact, she found herself getting lost in the tune as she played. The same peace she experienced at her chapel at home settled over her.
As she played, all the upset, anger, and disappointment of the day fell away from her. It wasn’t until she felt Charlotte’s small hand on her shoulder that she opened her eyes again and realized how much time had passed. Through the open chapel door, she saw how dark the sky was. The wind had blown fallen leaves and small branches across the chapel’s portico.
“My lady,” Charlotte said quietly. “It will be raining soon. If we do not depart now, we may have to remain here for some time before the weather clears again.”
Ruth swallowed. The thought of returning to Goldclaw Manor filled her with dread. She did not want to be around the unpleasant Lord Cragshade, nor did she want to be stuck in her chamber all afternoon with nothing at all to do.
Sophia had departed with the Duchess, and with the weather turning unpleasant, the two were sure to remain at the home of Lord Havers for some time.