Ellen returned to Bigfield House not long afterward. That morning, Louisa had driven over in the manor’s gig, and later, Ellen had followed Louisa back to the manor in the Bigfield House gig so she could return in good time in case she was needed over anything to do with running the estate or household.
She drove straight to the stable and, while walking to the house, encountered Hopper crossing the yard in the opposite direction. In response to her query, the estate manager was quick to reassure her that all was running “nice and smoothly.”
Well and good. Quietly pleased that her recent absences appeared to have created the right opportunity at the right time for Robbie to step into their uncle’s shoes, she parted from Hopper and entered the house through the kitchen door.
In the large kitchen, she came upon Partridge, waiting while Mrs. Swanley, the housekeeper, organized a tea tray.
Ellen eyed the tray, which seemed rather more elaborate than usual for just Emma and herself. “How is everything, Partridge? Any problems?”
“No, indeed, miss. Sir Humphrey was asking for you earlier, but Mrs. Fitzwilliam told him you were visiting at the manor, and that settled him down.” With his head, Partridge indicated the tray. “And now we have a caller.”
“Who?” Ellen had no wish to be captured by Mrs. Carstairs or Mrs. Folliwell.
“It’s Miss Kirkpatrick, miss—Miss Julia. She walked across the fields and arrived about ten minutes ago.”
“I see.” Now that is interesting—I wonder why Julia’s here? A possible reason struck her. “Does my brother know Miss Kirkpatrick has called?”
“Yes, miss. Mrs. Fitzwilliam sent me to let him know, and the young master joined the ladies in the drawing room straightaway. He’s there now.”
Ellen smiled. “Excellent. I believe I’ll join them as well.”
“If you would, miss, please tell Mrs. Fitzwilliam I’ll bring in the tray momentarily—we’re just waiting on some fresh scones.”
Intrigued on several counts, Ellen headed for the drawing room. She stopped in the front hall to remove her bonnet, with its silly ribbon knobs adorning the crown. She paused with the bonnet in her hands, her gaze snagged on the ribbons; the laughter of the gypsy children rang in her ears, and she looked up at her reflection in the hall mirror—at the ribbons wound around the knot of her hair, their trailing ends dangling to either side of her face, bobbing about her ears.
She wondered if Emma would notice if she left off some of the ribbons and bows. She didn’t like to think of the picture she must present when standing beside Louisa, the sartorial epitome of the severely elegant. How she looked—how she appeared to others—had never really mattered before, but now…
She grimaced at her reflection, then a light laugh from the drawing room reminded her of her quest, and she set the bonnet on the hall table and walked on.
As she opened the drawing room door, from the corner of her eye, she saw Partridge enter the hall, carrying the laden tea tray. With a bright smile, she swept into the room. “Good afternoon, everyone.” Emma was on the chaise with Julia, and Robbie sat in an armchair facing the pair; all three wore easy expressions and, clearly, had been enjoying each other’s company. Walking forward, Ellen waved at the open doorway. “Here’s Partridge with the tray, so I’m just in time to join you for tea.”
All three welcomed her. She shook hands with Julia, then sank into the armchair beside Robbie’s.
“Dear Julia walked over to see us.” As Partridge set the tray on a low table he stationed before Emma, Emma signaled Ellen with her eyes. “Isn’t that a delightful surprise?”
Comprehending that Emma wanted her to encourage Julia, Ellen was only too happy to oblige. “It is, indeed. It’s very kind of you to call, Julia—we are, after all, neighbors of sorts.”
Julia smiled somewhat tentatively and accepted a cup and saucer from Emma. “It isn’t all that far over the fields—and of course, I brought Peggy, my maid, with me. I didn’t walk alone.”
Accepting her own cup and saucer, Ellen nodded approvingly. “Very wise.” Regardless, she was curious as to why Julia had come, especially without her stepmother. Finding no other way to broach the point, finally, she baldly asked, “Has Mrs. Kirkpatrick gone to London, then?” Is that why you came without her?
To Ellen’s surprise, Julia blushed faintly. She sipped her tea, then lowered the cup and met Ellen’s gaze, hesitated, then her chin firmed, and she said, “My stepmother—and her cousin, Tilly—are of the opinion that our neighbors here, in the country, are provincials and therefore not worth cultivating. I disagree, so”—with her free hand, she gestured—“as I’m now of an age to go about by myself, albeit with a maid, here I am.”
“And very happy we are to have you call, my dear,” Emma promptly reassured her.
“Heavens, yes!” Robbie grinned, encouraging for all he was worth. “You don’t need your stepmother or her cousin to call on us.”
“No, indeed,” Ellen added. “Do feel free to call whenever you like.”
Julia’s careful nod to propriety notwithstanding, it had taken courage to call on her own.
The next half hour went in easy conversation while Ellen, Emma, and Robbie sought to ease any awkwardness Julia might feel and mounted a concerted mutual effort to ensure she would call again.
Ellen wondered if her and Emma’s efforts to further Robbie’s cause were as obvious to Julia as they seemed to Ellen, but if so, Julia gave no sign. Instead, gradually, she relaxed and even bloomed, eventually laughing unreservedly at one of Robbie’s sallies.
That her brother was captivated was apparent to any who knew him. He barely took his eyes off Julia, not even when tempted by the last scone.
When she smiled, Julia was a very pretty girl, and Robbie could do a lot worse for himself than fix his eye on such a quiet and apparently sensible young lady.
Thinking to further the pair’s interaction, Ellen asked, “Do you ride, Julia?”
“I used to, but I haven’t for a while.” She glanced briefly at Robbie, then looked back at Ellen. “My stepmother and Tilly don’t ride, and Papa never has time anymore, so the only one who rides out at present is Nigel.” Julia faintly grimaced. “I haven’t felt inspired to ride recently.”
Ellen caught Robbie’s eager eye. “Perhaps,” she said, “after church one Sunday, Robbie could ask your father’s permission to accompany you on a ride about the lanes, then you could fetch up here for luncheon.”
“By Jove, yes!” Robbie looked at Julia with hope in his eyes. “And I would, of course, escort you home later.”
Julia looked from him to Ellen to Emma. “That would be…a very kind invitation.” She glanced back at Robbie and shyly admitted, “I do love to ride.”
“That’s settled, then,” Emma declared. “We’ll consult with you and your father after church this Sunday and see what we can organize.” Emma looked at Ellen. “If the weather holds, we might even try for a picnic, and we could invite the folk from the manor as well.”
Julia rose to leave soon after. Ellen walked out with Julia and Robbie as far as the entrance to the rose garden, then made her farewells to Julia and let the pair walk on; still chatting, occasionally laughing, they ambled along the path between the fields that would eventually lead to the rear boundary of the Goffard Hall gardens, with Julia’s complacent maid trailing a few yards behind.