Page 32 of The Duke Who Loved a Widow
“Of course. We’re nearly at the village. He’ll probably be waiting for us on the green.”
“I believe I’m starting to overreact. I know there were spies at Farrington Hall. Well, that sounds extreme, but I know Mr Christopher Farrington must have been paying some of the servants for information. When Henry climbed the old apple tree in the garden and fell out, badly bruising his body, I received a letter from Christopher remonstrating about my lack of oversight.”
“That isn’t going to happen here,” assured Emma. “All our household has been at Horton Hall for a long time.”
“I know, you’re right. It’s just that after the Duke of Montbury nearly collided with Henry that day, I’ve been on tenterhooks that Christopher will find out and use it against me.”
Arabella listened for Henry but could only hear the birds singing in the trees. The face of the duke floated into her thoughts. She didn’t push it away and realized with surprise that she had been savouring her memory of his features, especially those piercing blue eyes.
“I’ll be glad when we find him again,” Arabella said, shivering despite the warm day.
As they came to the village, they could see Henry with Freddy Rathby on the green, throwing sticks for Dash to chase … and the spaniel certainly knew how to dash across the green at high speed.
Henry looked happy and relaxed with his new friend. She had made the right decision, moving them to live with her family in the North Riding of Yorkshire.
And there he was again. The ever-present Reverend Nathaniel Colbrooke, standing outside the vicarage talking to one of his parishioners.
Emma’s face brightened, and she nudged Arabella. “Look Nathaniel — sorry, the Reverend Colbrooke — is over there. As soon as we’ve been in the haberdasher’s, I’ll get a word. He may want me to go up to the castle with him to prepare the lessons.”
“Of course. I might take Henry to the Beehive Tavern for a treat. We can follow you up to the castle later.”
Arabella reflected that this might be true love between Emma and the clergyman as Emma seemed on the verge of abandoning the haberdashers to talk to him.
“Let’s go and choose some ribbon for that old bonnet that your mother wants to renovate, it won’t take long, and then we can find the Reverend Colbrooke,” Arabella suggested to Emma.
I like it here, she thought. There is always someone talking to an acquaintance on the village green. The Beehive Tavern is a central place for people to meet and talk. The landlord makes everyone welcome, and so many posting inns are unpleasant places.
The door and windows of the haberdashery were painted a lovely shade of sage green. She wondered how such an establishment made a profit in such a small village, but Aunt Grace had told her that all the fine families in the area came to Mrs Cribbage’s shop. It was far more convenient than a trip to York or Harrogate.
The bell jangled to alert Mrs Cribbage as they entered the shop. Arabella relaxed as soon as she saw the welcoming face. Mrs Cribbage recognized Emma with delight.
“Miss Emma. I’m so glad you called in. The new sprig muslin has arrived. I’ve got it in several colours.”
Emma’s face lit up, and she moved quickly to look at the bolts of cloth that Mrs Cribbage brought to the counter.
This was exactly the type of shop Arabella loved. Bolts of muslin and silk in new colours as well as traditional patterns, were on display. One of the walls was lined with ribbon and lace. She had time now to renovate her clothes, though less money than before for fripperies.
“Look Arabella,” Emma called. “This shade would suit your complexion perfectly.”
Arabella smiled at Mrs Cribbage and came to examine the cloth. She nudged Emma gently. “My dear, you need to introduce me.”
“Oh, Arabella. I totally overlooked that. How will I manage in a London season if I can’t remember my manners here at Montbury?”
Arabella laughed. “It comes with practice. You will be introduced to so many people in London that it will happen without your thinking.”
“Very well. Mrs Cribbage, I’d like to introduce you to Lady Arabella Farrington, who is living with us at Horton Hall.”
After the introductions, Arabella enjoyed looking at the silks, velvets, and muslin, and now that there was peace in Europe, the range of lace had extended greatly.
“This one is from Venice, and this is from Belgium. We haven’t got the French lace back yet, but my supplier tells me it will be here for next season,” Mrs Cribbage told them.
“Can you save this light blue muslin and this dusky pink for my mother to look at?” asked Emma. “I think we shall buy both. I’ll ensure that Mama calls in the next few days.”
“Of course, Miss Emma,” assured the haberdasher.
As they left the shop, with assurances to return soon, Emma made her way to speak to the Reverend Colbrooke, and after waving at the vicar, Arabella went in the direction she had last seen Henry and Freddy.
“Henry,” she called and, as always, breathed a sigh of relief when he emerged from the tavern courtyard with Freddy close on his heels.
