Surprised, Wilhelmina set her writing utensils aside. “What sort of delivery?”
Betsy looked uncertain. “I think it might be best if you come and see for yourself.”
Wilhelmina followed her maid outside. She blinked in confusion while gaping at the large item propped against the side of her cottage. Granted, it was in pieces. It had to be in order to fit through the door. But it was…it was…
“That’s a loom,” Wilhelmina blurted while pointing her finger at the most gorgeous piece of craftsmanship she’d ever witnessed.
“Aye. ’Tis that,” said one of the two men who’d brought it.
Wilhelmina turned to him. He scratched the back of his head and squinted through the noonday sun. When he said nothing more, she asked, “Where did it come from?”
She could have kicked herself for the foolish question since there was but one logical answer.
“Mr. Dale told us to bring it over. Said you’d like it.”
Baffled, Wilhelmina kept staring at him until he frowned and began looking slightly unsure of himself. She shook her head in an effort to clear it. “Of course I do. Thank you.”
“So where should we put it?”
“In the parlor I suppose. Just give me a moment. Betsy, please help me prepare a good spot for it.”
“I wager it’ll take up half the room,” Betsy said once they’d chosen to clear a spot near the window so Wilhelmina would have enough light while she worked.
“I’m sure you’re correct. It really ought to have its own room, but since that’s impossible, we’ll have to make do. Grab the other end of the sofa would you? We’ll put it up against that wall.”
Ten minutes later the loom was brought in and one hour after that, it had been fully assembled. The men who’d delivered it left and Wilhelmina allowed herself to fully appreciate what she’d been given. Words could not describe how she felt. James knew she loved to weave. He also knew she’d had to give up her big loom when she’d moved to London. And even though they’d not parted on the best of terms, he’d still purchased a replacement for her. It was beyond thoughtful and most deserving of her thanks.
Until that very moment she’d not realized how grateful she’d be for the chance to see him again. Perhaps he wanted the same and hoped his gift would provide an excuse? A letter would be sufficient, but maybe he would invite her for tea if she stopped by Clarington House. Perhaps then, the two of them might make amends. So much more could be said in person than through writing. Given the lengths he’d gone to on her behalf, he deserved nothing less than for her to call on him directly.
Eager to be on her way before she overthought her decision and changed her mind, Wilhelmina told Betsy where she was going, then grabbed her bonnet and spencer and set off across the fields.
Forty-five minutes later, Wilhelmina strode up the graveled path leading to the grand estate. Her heart drummed a fast rhythm, partly due to exertion but mostly because of excitement. Now that she was here, she could scarcely wait to see James again, to thank him for the gift but also to set things straight between them. He deserved a proper explanation from her and she’d failed to provide that. Instead, she’d let him believe she loved someone else, and although this might make things easier in the long run, it wasn’t right.
Steeling herself for his response to her arrival, she took a deep breath and gave the knocker three resounding raps. It took a while for the butler to arrive.
He stared back at Wilhelmina with a perfectly schooled demeanor. “Yes?”
“I wish to see Mr. Dale. Mr. James Dale, that is,” Wilhelmina hastily added when it occurred to her that James, his father, and Michael, could all be referred to as such.
“Mr. James Dale is no longer in residence. May I ask who’s calling?”
“Oh. Yes of course. Mrs. Lawson.” Honestly, she sounded like a nitwit and would not blame the butler for saying as much before shutting the door in her face.
Instead, he stepped back and opened the door even wider. “Do come in.”
“But I thought…that is to say…if Mr. James Dale isn’t here then—”
“I do believe his parents would like to meet you, Mrs. Lawson.”
Oh God.
Disheartened by the thought of receiving a set down from two people who probably wouldn’t be welcoming of her, Wilhelmina hesitated. She considered the butler who quietly waited for her to make up her mind. He hadn’t treated her with condescension. So maybe there was a chance the master and mistress of the house would not do so either.
She took a step forward. “Thank you.”
The butler dipped his head in acknowledgement. He closed the door and led her into an adjacent parlor, beautifully decorated in ivory tones accented by sage green. Without breaking his stride, the butler continued toward a pair of gaping French doors and led Wilhelmina out to a shaded terrace surrounded by perennials in various stages of bloom. The uneven flagstone paving lent a rustically romantic atmosphere to the oasis.
A round wrought iron table stood in the center of the space. Seated at it were an elderly couple with carefully guarded expressions, though neither looked hostile or the least bit unwelcoming.
“Mrs. Lawson,” the butler said with a gesture in Wilhelmina’s general direction. “I thought you might like a word with her before I let her run off.”
“Certainly,” James’s father, Mr. Dale, said. He stood. “Would you like to take tea with us, Mrs. Lawson?”
Too dazed to speak, Wilhelmina nodded, then promptly managed a faint, “Yes,” and, “thank you.”
“If you could please bring another cup and saucer, Warren,” Mr. Dale said.
“I’ll see to it right away,” Warren said and quickly disappeared inside.
“Please have a seat, Mrs. Lawson,” Mr. Dale said. He swept his hand toward the chair he intended for Wilhelmina to occupy.
She thanked him and followed his suggestion since it gave her something to do besides standing about feeling awkward and unsure of herself. This day was not turning out as she’d expected when she woke that morning.
“I understand your son has returned to London,” Wilhelmina said when silence ensued.
“Yes, and not a moment too soon,” Mrs. Dale said, surprising Wilhelmina with her frankness. “As lovely as it was to have him visit, his brooding manner grew tiresome. Brought a dull mood to every corner of the house.”
“I’m sorry,” Wilhelmina murmured.
“And so you should be,” Mrs. Dale said, though not unkindly. “According to what we were able to draw from our grandson, you are behind James’s gloomy mood.”
Wilhelmina clasped her hands tightly in her lap. She thanked the maid who brought a cup and saucer for her, then thanked her hostess for pouring tea. Back straight and shoulders stiff, she fought the urge to run from what could turn into a very difficult conversation, but she wanted to know what had been said about her. “What exactly did your grandson tell you?”
“Not much of anything really,” Mr. Dale said with one raised brow. “Hopefully you can enlighten us.”
“What I can say is that Michael was very conflicted.” Mrs. Dale took a sip of her tea. Wilhelmina followed suit. “As I understand, he had in his possession the information required to end his father’s turmoil, but he’d made a promise to your daughter and did not wish to betray her trust.”