A Mother's Courage (37 page)

Eloise stared down at his fingers banding her
wrist in a grip of steel and she felt her anger
replaced by a mixture of conflicting emotions.
She raised her eyes to his face and the expression
in his eyes compelled her to tell him the truth, in
part at least. 'I am a seafarer's widow, Mr Caine.
My husband was lost at sea and I have no
alternative but to earn my own living.'

'Have you no family or friends to whom you
could turn?'

'No, sir.'

'I'm truly sorry to hear it, but why couldn't you
tell me that in the first place? What else are you
hiding? You can trust me, Ellen. I might even be
able to help you.'

Eloise turned her head away. The desire to
confide in him was almost overwhelming, but
she simply dared not put her trust in this man.
She had a sneaking suspicion that once he knew
the true facts he might agree with her father, and
in common with most men in a position of
authority, he would be convinced that his
opinion was the right one. She could not take the
risk that he might think that Joss would benefit
from the kind of upbringing that the Cribbs
could give him. What did a mere man know
about a mother's love for her children? Caine
might have doted on his beautiful young wife,
and have a deep affection for his only child, but
he would always follow his head and not his
heart.

Eloise met his searching gaze with a stubborn
stare. 'Absolutely nothing, Mr Caine. I am not
hiding anything.'

He released her wrist as if the touch of her flesh
had burnt his fingers. 'I don't believe you, Ellen.'

'I'm sorry, sir.'

'I am sorry too. Trust is the most important
factor in any relationship, whether it is personal
or professional. If you can't trust me enough to
tell me the truth about yourself, I'm afraid I can't
continue to employ you in this institution where
there are vulnerable young children, to say
nothing of my own daughter.'

'I have nothing more to say, sir.'

'Then I have no alternative other than to
terminate your employment. You will leave here
first thing in the morning.'

Eloise rubbed her wrist as if trying to smooth
away the imprint of his fingers, but the warmth
of his touch still lingered on her flesh, and it was
oddly disturbing. She stared at him dazedly for a
moment, as the full impact of his words hit her
with a physical force taking the breath from her
lungs. Despite his angry stance, there was a
puzzled look in his eyes and a flicker of something
that she could not quite understand. It felt
as though he was silently urging her to confess
everything, but she could not. She dared not. She
turned away and walked slowly towards the
door. Each step was difficult, like wading knee deep
in water. Tomorrow morning she would
have to leave the security of the Foundling
Hospital, and no matter what, she would be
taking Joss and Beth with her. But, as she realised
with a deep sense of foreboding, it was not just
the possibility of being homeless again that was
distressing her. She had lost the good opinion of
the man who had come to her aid when all had
seemed lost, and whose approbation meant more
than almost anything to her.

'Ellen. Wait.' Caine moved swiftly to her side.
'I spoke in anger and that was wrong of me. I
don't pretend to understand why you have built
this barrier around yourself, but I must respect
your right to privacy.'

She hesitated, not trusting herself to speak.

'I want you to stay. I need you to stay. You
have established a rapport with Maria where
others have failed miserably. You work hard and
whatever your reasons for keeping silent, I have
no right to pry into your personal affairs.'

'I must get back to the nursery, sir.' Eloise went
to pass him, but he barred her way. Reluctantly
she raised her head to look him in the eyes. 'I
have my reasons for keeping silent, but I promise
you that no harm will come to any of the children
in my care, least of all Maria.'

He opened his mouth to reply but a loud
clattering outside the door made them both
jump, effectively putting an end to the conversation
as Maria clamoured to be admitted. Caine
reached past Eloise to open the door and she was
acutely aware of the heat emanating from his
body and the scent of him filled her nostrils:
cinnamon, cloves and sandalwood mixed with
the heady aroma of a young and virile man. She
was dizzy from the intoxicating smell and it
stirred old longings that she thought were buried
in the past.

Apparently oblivious to the confusion he had
caused, Caine moved forward to take the tea tray
from Maria. 'Well done, Maria, but you should
have asked Jessie to carry it for you.'

'I knew I could do it, Papa. I wanted to show
you that I could.' Maria danced into the room,
glancing up at Eloise with a knowing look.
'What's the matter, Ellen? Has my papa been
nasty to you?'

Eloise forced her dry lips into a smile. 'No,
certainly not. Mr Caine has been most kind and
understanding. Now I really must go.'

'You must stay and take tea with Papa,' Maria
ordered. 'I say so.'

Caine set the tray on the table and his harsh
expression melted into a smile that went straight
to Eloise's heart. 'Won't you stay and have a cup
of tea, Ellen? I'm sure Phoebe can manage on her
own for a little longer.'

The clock on the mantelshelf struck six, bringing
Eloise back to the present with a start. Phoebe
would be putting the babies down to sleep and
Eloise could not bear the thought of Beth lying in
her cot without her mother to give her a goodnight
kiss. She shook her head. 'I wish I could
stay for tea, but I can't let Phoebe down. I will be
here again tomorrow afternoon, Maria. That's a
promise.'

Later that evening, when Eloise had climbed the
last flight of stairs to the top floor of the hospital,
she was bone weary and mentally exhausted. As
she opened the door to the room she shared with
Tibbie and Becky, a cloud of tobacco smoke
caught her in the back of her throat causing her
to cough. They were wearing their nightgowns
and sitting cross-legged on their narrow beds,
smoking hand-rolled cigarettes.

'Shut the door,' Becky cried, exhaling a cloud
of blue smoke into the rafters. 'Matron will kill us
if she finds out we're smoking.'

Tibbie held out a tobacco tin. 'Want to make
one, Ellen? You look as though you could do
with a smoke. It clears your head and it don't
stain like snuff.'

'No, thank you,' Eloise went to sit on her bed
and began unbuttoning her boots. 'I'm really
tired and all I want is to sleep.'

'So how did you get on with the guv?' Tibbie
demanded.

'I hardly saw him. I was with Maria all afternoon.
We went to the British Museum.'

'Hmm. It's all right for some.' Becky flicked ash
from her cigarette into the chamber pot. 'But you
must have seen Mr Caine. He's got his eye on
you, girl. Play your cards right and you could
end up sitting pretty.'

'Lying flat on her back pretty, you mean,'
Tibbie added, chuckling.

Eloise turned her head away to hide her
blushes. 'I don't know what you're talking about.'

'Aw, come on, ducks,' Becky said, reaching
across the narrow gap between the beds to
nudge Eloise in the ribs. 'Why else would the
guv pick you out above all the rest of us, if he
didn't fancy you something rotten? The poor
bloke's been on his own for six years and he's
only human, or so I hear tell.' She dissolved in a
fit of the giggles.

Tibbie ground out the remains of her cigarette
in the tobacco-tin lid. 'Don't take no notice of her,
Ellen. She's a vulgar cow. But she's got a point,
ducks. Our Mr Caine has been a widower for a
long time and so far as we know, and there ain't
much that goes unnoticed round here, he's not
had a lady friend since his wife died.'

'Well, I wouldn't kick him out of me bed,'
Becky said, sliding beneath the covers and
folding her arms behind her head. 'He's a good looking
bloke and he can't be a day older than
thirty. Next thing you know, Ellen, he'll have
you moving into the spare room in his house.
Then he'll be paying you a visit in the middle of
the night. Lucky cow.'

'Shut up and go to sleep, Becky.' Tibbie leaned
over the side of her bed to blow out the candle. 'If
he offers, you take it, Ellen. Girls like us don't get
chances like that every day of the week.'

'Nor once a year in your case,' Becky
sniggered.

Tibbie tossed a shoe at her, but it missed its
target and hit the wall. On the other side someone
thumped the thin partition with a few choice
expletives, and then there was silence.

Eloise lay on her back, staring into the darkness
and listening to the gradual onset of slow
breathing as Tibbie and Becky drifted off to
sleep. Their ribald remarks had disturbed her
almost as much as the realisation that she was
deeply attracted to her employer. Her initial
dislike of him had changed so subtly that she had
not even noticed the warning signs. She might
find him aloof and autocratic, but she had also
seen a hint of tenderness and humour lurking
beneath the frosty façade. He was undoubtedly a
complicated man, but she had also sensed a
loneliness of spirit in him that was so akin to her
own that it was frightening. The physical
attraction must have been there all along, but she
had been in denial. She had thought that Ronnie
was the love of her life and that she could never
feel the same way about another man. Hadn't
she said as much to Reggie when she spurned his
offer of marriage? She had believed it then, but
she knew now that it was untrue. Barton Caine
had stirred up emotions and longings that she
had thought were a thing of the past, and that
made him a dangerous person to be near. He had
shown her a degree of partiality, but that did not
mean that he harboured tender feelings for her.
Perhaps what the girls said was nearer the mark.
Caine was a man who had lost the wife he
adored six years ago, and he was either looking
for a surrogate mother for Maria, or a willing
woman who would warm his bed and expect
nothing in return. She, Eloise Monkham-Cribb,
was neither of those things and her first priority
was, and always would be, her children. Her
heart and mind might cry out for love and the
companionship of a man, but she was also painfully
aware that she had a duty to her parents.
Mama would probably understand, but her
father would never speak to her again if she lived
with Caine as his mistress. When they returned
to England she wanted to meet both her parents
with her head held high and her reputation
intact.

The next day, after her work in the nursery was
done, Eloise waited until Phoebe's back was
turned before she gave Joss and Beth a last
cuddle and a whispered promise that she would
return later that day. Despite his continued
silence, she knew that Joss understood what she
was saying and she kissed him on the tip of his
button nose, just as she had always done, and
was rewarded by a sunny smile. 'Be a good boy,
sweetheart, and look after Beth while Mama is
away.' She thought that Joss nodded but Phoebe
had turned to ask her a question and Eloise
moved hastily away from their cots.

Having assured Phoebe that she would be back
in time to help settle the babies for the night,
Eloise put on her bonnet and shawl ready for the
short walk to the governor's house. A calm
September had given way to a cool and blustery
October, and the wind whipped strands of hair
from beneath the brim of her bonnet. She could
feel her cheeks glowing with colour as she
rapped on the door knocker and waited for
someone to answer her summons. When the
door opened it was Caine himself who greeted
her. It was just a coincidence, of course, but it
almost seemed as though he had been awaiting
her arrival. He thrust a single red rose into her
hand. 'A peace offering, Ellen. I was too harsh
with you yesterday, and I remembered how you
love roses.'

It might have been a theatrical gesture, but his
embarrassed and almost shy smile made him
look ridiculously young and quite unlike the
austere, self-contained man whom she had first
met. Eloise felt the blood rush to her cheeks and
she bent her head to sniff the fragrance, but the
perfect flower was unscented. 'Thank you, sir,'
she murmured. 'It was kind of you.'

'It was nothing. I had business near Covent
Garden and I saw these in the market.' He stood
aside to allow her to pass. 'I'm afraid that hothouse
blooms have no scent. They are beautiful
but they haven't the honesty and fragrance of a
garden flower.' His tone was dismissive as he led
the way to the drawing room, holding the door
open for her. They have that in common with
some people.'

There was a bitter note in his voice and as
Eloise followed his gaze she realised with a sense
of shock that he was staring at the portrait of his
late wife. 'She was a beautiful woman, sir. You
must miss her terribly.'

He turned his head to give her a piercing look.
'Do you still mourn for your husband, Ellen?'

'He has been dead less than a year, but I try to
remember the happy times we shared.'

'That sounds as though you have unhappy
memories also.'

'Nothing is perfect,' Eloise said, gazing down
at the rose. 'Even this flower. It is so beautiful but
it has no fragrance.'

'No, and that makes it a false bloom to my way
of thinking. I cannot stand subterfuge, Ellen. Lies
and duplicity kill affection and destroy relationships.'
His voice cracked with emotion, but as if
he realised that he had revealed too much of his
innermost self, he made a valiant attempt at a
smile. 'Next summer I will see that the house is
filled with honest to goodness garden roses.'

'I hope I will be here to enjoy them, sir.'

'Don't worry on that score, Ellen. Now that
Maria and I have found you, we will do our best
to make you stay.'

Although his smile was warm, Eloise felt as
though a chill breeze had swept through the
room. His apparent kindness and concern for her
were, as she had feared, just a ploy to persuade
her to stay on and look after his child. For a
moment, when he had given her the rose, it had
seemed that they were about to enter into a more
personal relationship. Now they were back on
master and servant terms and she had to struggle
to hide her disappointment. 'I will do my best for
Maria, sir.'

'Yes, I know that,' Caine said abruptly. 'I'll tell
Jessie to send Maria to you, but I have a meeting
to attend and I must leave now.' He left the room
without a backward glance.

Eloise looked up at the portrait on the wall and
a shiver ran down her spine. There was a touch
of self-assurance in Rosamund Caine's expression
and a hint of mockery in her lovely smile, as
if she were daring Eloise to vie for her husband's
affections. It felt as though Caine's dead wife was
speaking to her from the grave and issuing a
challenge. 'You don't have to worry,' Eloise
murmured. 'I know I cannot compete with you.'

'Who are you talking to, Ellen?'

Maria's childish voice made Eloise spin round.
She had not realised that she had spoken her
thoughts out loud. She covered her confusion by
changing the subject. 'Why, Maria, that is a really
pretty bonnet. Is it new?'

Maria did a twirl, holding out the full skirt of
her scarlet merino coat and tilting her head at an
angle. 'Yes, it is. Papa bought it for me this
morning. We went in a hansom cab all the way to
Oxford Street to a new emporium; I think it was
called D. H. Evans, or something. Anyway, it is
very grand and he should really take you there
and buy you some new clothes, for yours are horribly
shabby, if you don't mind my saying so.'

Eloise let this pass. She glanced ruefully down
at her drab serge skirt and the frayed cuffs of her
white cotton blouse. It was true, of course, she
did look like a drudge, and in truth that was
what she had become. No wonder Barton Caine
had barely given her a second glance. Compared
to Rosamund in her blue silk gown trimmed
lavishly with Brussels lace, Ellen Monk must
appear like a scarecrow. She stifled a sigh. 'You
look extremely fine, Maria. Where would you
like to go this afternoon? That is if you don't
mind being seen out with this shabby person.'