Drawn
as though by the man’s impatience, Edward looked at the time. Nearly 11 a.m. No
more dilly-dallying. He had to work. As he was turning from the window he saw
her. At first he thought his eyes deceived him. Certainly, he only thought he
saw her because she had been so much on his mind since the Earl of Staton’s
funeral, but no, it was her.
Miss
Daphne Meriwether stood near her father, whom Edward recognized from the
funeral. Though she was still in full mourning, she was a vision, her pale skin
set off by the crinkled black crepe that fell in ripples from her waist. Edward
memorized every detail of her—her gold hair pulled back in a simple knot at the
base of her neck, a few strands loose beneath her black bonnet. She wasn’t
wearing a veil, and Edward was able to focus on the heart-shaped face with the
same kind smile as her father, who wore his mourning as a black band around his
arm. As Mr. and Miss Meriwether crossed the street, the cab drivers pulled
their horses to a halt and doffed their hats in the young woman’s direction.
Her father doffed his hat in return, and the Meriwethers crossed unmolested by
man, vehicle, or beast, a near miracle on the busy London streets. As they
walked, Mr. Meriwether gestured toward the building from where Edward watched
them. Edward felt embarrassed suddenly. He wanted to hide, but where? Under his
desk? Should he run up the stairs to the next floor? He couldn’t possibly let
her see him. She would know at a glance that he had been thinking improperly
about her—well, not improperly, perhaps, but not entirely properly either. But
he didn’t run. His feet wouldn’t move. She was too lovely, after all, and who
knew when he would see such a sight again.
As
father and daughter were about to enter the building, a ruddy, plump-cheeked
boy raced across the street, dodging vehicles, horses, and low-flying birds,
causing shouts from annoyed pedestrians. The boy held a small bouquet of yellow
calla lilies toward the golden-haired young woman, and Edward saw the ruddy,
plump-cheeked flower vendor wiping his hands on his apron, laughing at his son.
The boy stopped short, nearly running father and daughter over in his haste to
get to them before they disappeared inside. The boy, shy suddenly and pulling
his slouch cap over his eyes, grinned sheepishly as Miss Meriwether kneeled
next to him, took the bouquet, inhaled deeply as though the flowers smelled of
ambrosia, and kissed the boy’s cheek. The boy clasped his hand to his face as
though he meant to keep the kiss forever. He looked back toward his father and
beamed. He had won his prize. Mr. Meriwether reached into his coat pocket and
handed a few coins to the boy, who was clearly in love. Edward leaned close to
the open window and heard the boy say, “Oh, no, sir. My pa says the flowers are
a gift for the pretty young lady in black. To cheer her from her sadness.”
“That
is a most generous gesture,” Frederick Meriwether said. “Where is your father,
young man?”
“Just
there, sir.” The boy pointed to where his father waited by the flower barrow.
“How
very kind,” Miss Meriwether said. “You see, Papa, people in London can be as
considerate as people in New London.”
Edward
watched as Mr. and Miss Meriwether walked the boy back to his father and
Frederick Meriwether and the flower vendor began talking. The younger brother
of the Earl of Staton speaking to a flower vendor in the street, where anyone
could see? Edward wondered what Mr. Meriwether’s mother, the Countess of
Staton, would have to say about that. He realized too late that Roberts and
Wellesley were beside him.
“Whatever
has your rapt attention, Ellis?” asked Roberts.
“Ahhh...”
Wellesley pointed to where Mr. and Miss Meriwether still chatted with the
flower vendor and his son, who was now partially hidden behind his father while
he stared at the young woman as though she were the goddess Aphrodite come to
earth.
“You
have excellent taste, Ellis,” said Roberts. “The young woman is in mourning.
Perhaps she needs a shoulder to cry on.”
As
Mr. and Miss Meriwether left the flower vendor and his son, the rain picked up
again. Suddenly, as though she sensed someone watching her, Miss Meriwether
looked up and Edward knew he had been seen. Then she smiled. It wasn’t a
perturbed smile, which Edward would have expected from a well-born young
English woman, a “How dare that strange man have the indecency to notice me!”
sort of aggravation. It was a friendly smile, an acknowledgement—hello, I see
you—and it made Edward’s heart stammer. Then he did the unthinkable. He smiled
back.
“I
see you’re acquainted with the young woman,” said Wellesley.
“That’s
Mr. Meriwether and his daughter,” Edward said.
Roberts
looked toward the door. “Here they come.”
Edward
stood. He cursed the fact that bright colors had gone out of fashion because he
suddenly thought his black frock coat and brown waistcoat were too dreary. He
ran his fingers through his hair, brushing it first to the right, then to the
left, then away from his face, then to the right again. He sat at his desk, crossing
his right leg languidly over the left. He leaned back as though this were the
most ordinary thing in the world. He was at work where he belonged and it was a
daily occurrence for beautiful young women to visit there. Why shouldn’t it be?
Roberts
grinned. “You’re prettying yourself up for the daughter of the brother of the
Earl of Staton?”
“I
am not prettying myself up.”
The door opened and there were Mr. and Miss
Meriwether. The office went silent. Mr. Meriwether smiled in a fatherly manner
at the scrutinizing faces, though the young men brightened considerably when
they noticed Miss Meriwether. Randall Tewson hurried from his desk as quickly
as his short legs would carry him and he nearly prostrated himself in front of
the new editor as though Mr. Meriwether were the Duke of Somewhereorother. In
Mr. Meriwether Edward saw a tall, straight-backed man with the upright stature
of an aristocrat and the manner of a friend. Mr. Meriwether’s chestnut-colored
hair was graying at the temples, and he was clean-shaven, as Edward was—a
contrast to the style of the day since only men and very old women could grow
beards properly. Though on another man his small blue eyes and refined features
might look cold, Mr. Meriwether didn’t appear disagreeable at all. With introductions
led by Tewson, Mr. Meriwether made his way around meeting the men who would
work for him. Edward noticed the way Mr. Meriwether looked everyone in the eye
and asked everyone’s name and their responsibilities at the paper. Yes, he
spoke in the swanky tones of the aristocracy, but otherwise he could have been
anyone from anywhere. If Edward didn’t know better he would never have guessed
that Mr. Meriwether was reared in the ancient halls of Hembry Castle. Then
Frederick Meriwether stood before Edward as Tewson introduced them.
“I
can’t believe we haven’t met before, all things considered,” Mr. Meriwether
said. Edward struggled to keep his eyes on the father, and he succeeded in
looking at the daughter only twice. “I believe you know Mitchell Chattaway?”
“I
do,” Edward said. “I worked for him at the beginning of my career.”
“He’s
a good man to know if you’re in the newspaper business. My daughter and I dined
with Chattaway and his family when we first arrived in England. Allow me to
introduce my daughter. Daphne, this is Edward Ellis, the young man I’ve heard
so much about. Mr. Ellis, my daughter Miss Meriwether. I’ve been telling
everyone in my family about you, young man.
Mr. Barden told me of your talents as a reporter as well as an editor,
and he showed me some of the short pieces you’ve had published. I must admit,
I’m rather impressed.”
Miss
Meriwether smiled, and Edward forgot why he was standing there. Mr. Meriwether
had just said something nice about him—he was sure of it—but he couldn’t say
what and he couldn’t guess how to respond. He nodded until Miss Meriwether
rescued him.
“Is
it true you’re the fastest shorthand transcriber here? And the most accurate?”
“That’s
what Mr. Barden has been saying about him,” said Mr. Meriwether. “Mr. Ellis,
you’ll be running this place before long if I have anything to say about it.”
“Thank
you, Mr. Meriwether.”
Frederick
allowed Tewson to escort him to the men he hadn’t been introduced to yet. With
Mr. Meriwether gone, Edward was at a loss. He tried to look everywhere but at
Miss Meriwether, though he could feel her watching him. She wasn’t being
indiscreet, staring like a coquette at men she didn’t know. She was curious,
and she was, after all, American. No well-born young English woman would dare
be caught in a place where people performed work. To be associated with a
trade? Never! Yet here was Miss Meriwether, unembarrassed, curious, and her
father didn’t appear concerned with exposing her to something as common as a
newspaper office.
When
Edward could no longer ignore the fact that Miss Meriwether’s full attention
was on him, he had to resist the urge to hide in the supply closet. Though his
left foot was turned toward the door, his right foot stayed stubbornly in
place. He realized, after some thought, that he needed to either stay where he
was or trip over himself in his haste to get away, looking even more ridiculous
in Miss Meriwether’s eyes than he was sure he already did. He decided to stand
strong, so he scanned himself—trousers fastened, boots on the correct feet,
waistcoat right side out. Was his hair a mess? He wanted to run a hand through
it again, but he didn’t want to seem vain so he resisted.
“I
saw you looking out the window,” Miss Meriwether said.
“I
saw the flower boy give you that bouquet.” Edward gestured to the yellow calla
lilies she held in her black-gloved hand. Her eyes were so blue they appeared
violet, and those violet eyes watched him like two amethysts.
“He
was a sweet little boy.” Miss Meriwether watched her father speaking to several
men across the room. “You needn’t worry, Mr. Ellis. You’re in good hands with
my father. You won’t find a fairer employer anywhere, and he already thinks
you’re so talented.”
“That’s
good to know.” Edward wanted to say something bright, something witty to make
her laugh, but, as it always happens in moments when you most want to sound
impressive, his grasp of the English language eluded him. Finally, seeing her
mourning dress, complete sentences formed and he even managed to speak them
aloud.
“I’m
sorry about your grandfather. I’ve had the privilege of meeting him on more
than one occasion, and I know he was a kind man, a magnanimous man, respected
by everyone who knew him. I was at his funeral, covering it for the paper.
That’s where I saw you the first time.” Edward pictured himself with his pen
running a delete line through that last sentence.
Miss
Meriwether was about to respond when Mr. Meriwether called her to join him and
Mr. Tewson at his desk. Edward tried to work for the third time that day, but
now his thoughts were consumed by wishes for a glimpse of the golden-haired,
violet-eyed beauty. Whenever he looked in her direction all he saw was the
backside of Randall Tewson.
“Look!”
cried Wellesley. “He keeps looking in Miss Meriwether’s direction. Ellis is in
love.”
“Don’t
be daft,” said Edward. “I’m thinking of my article and how little time I have
to finish it.”
“And
longing for a glimpse of the radiant Miss Meriwether.”
Edward
grimaced at Wellesley before fastening his eyes onto the notes with the dots
and doodles. He picked up his quill, filled it with ink, and began working. All
around him were the manic scrapes of feather tips on paper as others scrambled
to meet their deadlines. Edward thought of the beautiful young woman on the
other side of the room as he translated those dots and doodles into English.
Finally,
as Edward readied his copy, he heard snickering. He was about to say something
rude to Wellesley and Roberts, but he realized Mr. Meriwether was standing near
his desk and caught himself in time.
“Is
your piece ready to go?” Mr. Meriwether asked. Edward handed the editor his
work, which somehow he managed to finish. Mr. Meriwether scanned the piece.
“This looks quite good.”
“Thank
you, Mr. Meriwether.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Publication Date: January 28, 2016
Copperfield Press
Paperback & eBook; 465 Pages
Series: The Hembry Castle Chronicles (Book 1)
Genre: Historical Fiction/Literary
From Meredith Allard, author of the bestselling Loving Husband Trilogy, comes When It Rained at Hembry Castle, a lush historical novel set in Victorian England. Perfect for fans of Downton Abbey, it’s the story of an aristocratic family, a mysterious death, secrets that dare not be told, and the wonder of falling in love.
When the 8th Earl of Staton dies, his eldest son, the unreliable Richard, inherits the title and the family’s home—Hembry Castle. The Earl’s niece, the American-born Daphne, is intrigued by Edward Ellis, a rising author with a first-hand knowledge of Hembry Castle—from the servants’ hall. And Edward, though captivated by the lovely Daphne, has his own hurdles he must overcome. Can Richard come to terms with his title before bringing ruin on his family? Will Edward and Daphne find their way to each other despite the obstacles of life at Hembry Castle?
When It Rained at Hembry Castle is a page-turning, romantic novel with vivid characters and an engrossing story that will keep you guessing until the end.
About the Author
Meredith Allard is the author of the bestselling novels The Loving Husband Trilogy, That You Are Here, Victory Garden, Woman of Stones, and My Brother’s Battle. Her newest release, the historical
novel When It Rained at Hembry Castle, is a great read for fans of Downton Abbey.
Visit Meredith online at
www.meredithallard.com. You can also connect with her on
Facebook,
Twitter,
Google+,
Pinterest, and
Goodreads.
Buy the Book
Giveaway Time!!!
I am so excited to be able to offer one copy of
When It Rained at Hembry Castle up for giveaway, winners choice of either paperback or eBook copy (please note that the paperback version is open to US only, but the eBook is international)!! All you have to do is enter your name and email address on the giveaway form
HERE. Please be sure to leave both your name and your email on the form so I can contact you if you are my winner (no email address, no entry!). For extra entries you can follow the blog in various ways (all links are on the right hand sidebar) and leave the name/email you follow with on the form. That's it!
I'll use a random number generator to pick a winner on May 2nd, 2016 and will announce the winner here as well as email the winner for their mailing address and whether they want a paperback or eBook copy. The winner will have 48 hours to respond to my email before I have to pick another winner. If you have already won this giveaway on another site please let me know so I can pick a new winner and give someone else a chance to win a copy of this great book.
Good Luck!!
When It Rained at Hembry Castle Blog Tour Schedule
Thursday, April 14
Interview at
Books and Benches Giveaway at
Passages to the Past
Friday, April 15
Excerpt at
The Lit Bitch Interview at
The Book Connection
Monday, April 18
Review at
Book Nerd
Tuesday, April 19
Review at
History From a Woman’s Perspective Excerpt & Giveaway at
CelticLady’s Review
Wednesday, April 20
Review & Giveaway at
A Holland Reads
Friday, April 22
Excerpt at
Historical Fiction Addicts
Saturday, April 23
Guest Post & Giveaway at
Brooke Blogs
Sunday, April 24
Review at
One Book Shy of a Full Shelf
Monday, April 25
Review at
Luxury Reading Review at
To Read, Or Not to Read Excerpt & Giveaway at
A Literary Vacation
