A Refuge at Highland Hall (9 page)

“Thank you, ma'am. This is my sister, Helen Chambers, and her daughter, Emily.” She glanced at Helen. “This is Mrs. Dalton, the housekeeper.”

Helen straightened. “It's good to meet you, ma'am.”

Mrs. Dalton nodded, but a question flickered in her eyes as she looked from Helen to Emily. “This is your daughter?”

“Yes, ma'am.” Helen shot a quick glance at Lydia and then looked back at the housekeeper.

Mrs. Dalton's mouth turned down as she looked at Emily. “No one told me you were bringing a child.”

Helen's face flushed. “Emily's a good girl, no trouble at all. You'll hardly know she's here.”

“But how will you do your work when you have a child to look after?”

Helen's eyes flashed. “We managed well enough in London. I'm sure we can do the same here.”

“And where do you expect her to sleep?” Mrs. Dalton's tone rose to match Helen's.

“Why, in my room, with me, of course.”

Mr. Lawrence strode toward them. “Is there a problem?”

Mrs. Dalton turned to him. “Did you know Helen was bringing her
daughter
with her?”

His eyes widened. “Her daughter?”

Helen lifted her chin. “Yes, sir. This is Emily Rose. She's three years old, and she's a sweet child. There's no cause for you or anyone else to be looking down on her.”

Mr. Lawrence lowered his dark eyebrows. “I do not appreciate your tone, young woman. This is highly irregular. I will have to discuss it with Sir William and Lady Julia.”

“Mrs. Kate is the one you should be talkin' to. She's the one who hired me.”

“All the staff in this house work for Sir William, and they are under my direct supervision.”

Mrs. Dalton cleared her throat.

Mr. Lawrence inclined his head toward her. “Mine and Mrs. Dalton's.”

Helen's face turned a deeper shade of pink.

Lydia bit her lip, praying her sister would hold her tongue and not cause any more trouble.

Helen turned and snatched her bag from the pile Hardy, the chauffeur, and Patrick had stacked on the ground at the back of the wagon. She gripped Emily's hand and started toward the front door.

Lydia pulled in a sharp breath and reached for her sister's arm, but she was too late to stop her.

Mr. Lawrence stepped in front of Helen, his face set like granite. “The
lower
members of the staff enter the house through the doors in the rear courtyard.”

Helen glared up at him, then swung around and marched off along the side of the house, tugging poor little Emily with her.

Lydia turned to Mrs. Dalton. “Please, don't think too poorly of Helen. She's never worked in a big house like this. She doesn't know what's expected.”

Mr. Lawrence lowered his eyebrows at Lydia, as though she were the one who had broken the rules. “Surely she knows maids do not bring their children along with them.”

“Yes, but it's a special arrangement Dr. and Mrs. Foster made for her. They've been very kind, and Helen has worked hard. I hope you'll give her a chance.”

Mr. Lawrence and Mrs. Dalton exchanged serious looks. The butler turned to Lydia. “As I said, we will discuss it with Sir William and Lady Julia.” Then he turned and walked in the front door.

Mrs. Dalton lifted her chin and followed him inside.

Lydia's heart sank. Would Mrs. Kate speak up for Helen and convince Sir William and Lady Julia to keep her on? Since Mrs. Kate had been suffering with morning sickness, Miss Penny had handled most of the day-to-day routine with the children and servants.

Lydia clicked her tongue, then picked up her bag and headed around the side of the house, hoping and praying it would all work out.

“G
ood night, Kate.” Penny leaned closer and kissed her sister's cheek. She stepped back and searched Kate's face, noting the shadows beneath her sister's eyes and the weary slope of her shoulders. It had been a long, exhausting day for both of them, but poor Kate was still dealing with the difficulties of her pregnancy.

They'd been up since six and had spent most of the morning packing their trunks and closing up the house in London. Jon had decided to take a flat near the hospital rather than rattle around in that big house by himself.

Supervising the excited children on the journey to Highland had been a bit of a challenge, but they'd all arrived safely, just after five-thirty in the evening. Dinner had been served an hour later—a rather hectic affair, especially after Rose spilled her glass of water and Jack called Susan a baby for not liking the food.

Penny sighed and shook her head. Poor little weary Rose had broken down in tears and run from the table.

Parenting was not for the fainthearted!

The children had gone up to get ready for bed just after eight, and Lydia, Helen, Kate, and Penny made the rounds to hear their prayers and tuck them in.

Now, at last, it was time for Kate and Penny to get some rest.

“I'll see you in the morning,” Kate said.

“Yes, bright and early.”

Kate gave a soft groan, then opened the door to her childhood bedroom.

“Oh, Kate,” Penny called, turning back.

Her sister looked out from the doorway. “Yes?”

“Did you settle things with Mrs. Dalton about Helen and Emily?”

Kate nodded. “She obviously doesn't approve, but once I told her Julia and William were informed and had agreed, she accepted it.”

“Good. We need Helen's help, and it would hardly be fair to bring her to Highland and then have Mrs. Dalton turn her away.”

Kate yawned. “Yes, you're right. Good night.” She slipped into her bedroom.

“Sweet dreams.” Penny continued down the hall to her own room, thinking about William's request that they meet at eight to discuss their schedules and responsibilities. With a dozen children in residence at Highland, some things would have to change, though she didn't expect her role would be much different. She planned to continue helping Kate oversee the children, just as she had in London.

They had a comfortable routine there, but without Jon's presence it would be a challenge to maintain the same schedule. Surely William would be as patient and understanding as Jon had been. The children needed a father figure, which meant that role would fall to William…if he would accept it.

She walked into her bedroom, and memories came flooding back. This had been her special sanctuary as long as she could remember. The blaze in the fireplace added welcome warmth to the room. Tomorrow would be June 3, but Highland's thick stone walls kept the house cool year round, except perhaps on the south side on the warmest summer afternoon.

Penny crossed to the window and pushed the drapes aside. She looked down at the padded window seat and smiled. How many books had she read sitting right here, dreaming of the future and taking in the beautiful view out her window?

The sky was dark now, but in the morning she'd see the walled garden with the arched entryway, the long glass greenhouse, and beyond that, flocks of sheep scattered across the emerald-green hills.

She turned and scanned her room once more. When she was sixteen, a fire had gutted it and nearly taken her life. It had burned through almost half the east wing on this floor and the floor above. But expert carpenters had been called in to make repairs and remove all traces of the damage.

Penny sighed and settled on the window seat. Outside, stars glittered overhead and a quarter moon spread silvery light over the parkland and shadowed gardens.

Her thoughts drifted back through the last three days in London, and Alex's image rose in her mind. Had she really seen tenderness in his eyes when they said good-bye? Tenderness…for her? Or was he just reflecting the emotions around him as so many people sent their loved ones off to war?

Had he made it safely back to Upavon? Was he looking up at this same moon tonight…thinking of her?

She blew out a breath and turned away from the window.

In a few weeks Alex would finish his training and probably fly off to France. She crossed her arms, and a chilly shiver traveled down her back. Just the thought of him in one of those little airplanes flying over the English Channel was enough to frighten her. But flying over those rough waters was nothing compared to the danger he would face when he took to the skies over the front lines in France and Belgium.

She clasped her hands and gazed out at the stars again.
Father, please watch over Alex. Protect him. Keep him safe, and bring him home again.

Worrisome questions sent her thoughts swirling away. Why hadn't she said more to him at the station—something encouraging that he could tuck into his heart and recall when times were hard and his spirits were low?

An idea struck, and she rose from the window seat. She might not have his address yet, but there was no reason she couldn't write him a letter tonight. Surely he would keep his word and let her know his address, and when he did she would be ready to mail her reply.

In fact, she could add to her letter each day and fill it with cheerful news, encouraging stories about the children, and descriptions of their life at Highland.

And if his letter was…friendly, she might even repeat her invitation to come and spend his leave with them here at Highland. She supposed she ought to ask William and Julia's permission. It might even be better if the invitation came from them. But if she asked him again…

Would he come?

Her heartbeat picked up speed. Wouldn't it be wonderful to show him around Highland? He seemed to love the outdoors, and there were so many interesting places they could explore together, walking or riding around the estate.

She crossed to her writing table, pulled open the drawer, and took out her stationery and a pen. She would start the letter tonight.

And pray for him as she penned each line.

Alex brought his Morane-Saulnier in steep and fast, barely missing the earthwork surrounding the sandy airfield at St. Pol, France. The plane touched down with a nerve-racking jolt. He blew out a deep breath and taxied toward the hangar, trying to avoid the worst of the bumpy tufts of grass.

Just yesterday, one of the other pilots, James Ross, came in too low, hit the earthwork, and turned turtle, flipping his plane upside down. Ross received only a few cuts and bruises. He was lucky he hadn't killed himself.

Alex turned off the plane's engine and lifted his goggles, thankful one more mission was complete.

Lead mechanic George Meddis ran toward the plane, his face red. “Goodwin, where have you been? You were due back over an hour ago!”

Alex unhooked his restraint, vaulted over the side, then jumped to the ground. “I had a bit of trouble over Ostend.”

“What kind of trouble?”

“Ground fire.” He wiped his hand down his dusty face.

“I hope you steered a zigzag course and headed out to sea.”

Alex glanced away and rubbed the back of his neck. That was what he'd been trained to do, but this was his first coastal reconnaissance flight on his own without an observer, and he didn't want to turn tail and head home at the first sign of trouble. He gave his head a slight shake. “I kept going and made it through to Zeebrugge.”

“Well, it shouldn't have taken you this long to fly up to Zeebrugge and back.”

Alex gave a slight shrug. “I spotted a German Taube just past Ostend, and I chased him back to his base at De Haan.”

Meddis groaned and shook his head. “There can't be more than a pint of petrol left in your tank. You were probably flying on fumes. Did you think about that?”

“I watched the gauge.”

The mechanic pointed at the bullet-riddled fuselage. “How'd that happen?”

“The German in the Taube shot at me with his rifle.”

Meddis rubbed his forehead and muttered under his breath.

“Don't worry,” Alex grinned. “I shot back with my revolver, and his plane looks a lot worse than mine.”

The mechanic ran his hand over the bullet holes. “Do you know how long it's going to take me to fix this?” His tone was scolding, but Alex could tell Meddis was concerned about him as well as the plane.

“It's not that bad.” He clapped Meddis on the shoulder. “I'm sure you'll have her repaired and ready to fly in no time.”

“It will take me at least two days, if not longer, and that means you'll be grounded until the work is done.”

Footsteps crunched on the grass behind Alex. “Goodwin.”

Alex pulled in a sharp breath and turned. Wing Commander Randal Longmore stood behind him, frowning at the plane.

Alex whipped his arm up in a quick salute. “Sir.”

“At ease.” Longmore scanned the plane's fuselage. “What happened?”

“I spotted a German Taube on my way up the coast and gave chase. We exchanged fire, and I forced him back to his base at De Haan.”

Longmore clasped his hands behind his back and studied Alex for a few seconds.

Alex's neck warmed, and he shifted his weight to the other foot. Longmore was a strict disciplinarian, a traditional Navy man. He expected his men to stick with the mission and obey orders.

When Alex arrived two weeks ago, Longmore called him into his office and warned him he would be watching him closely. The crash-landing during training was a black mark on his record. His flight instructor at Upavon had written in Alex's file that he was brave and intelligent, but could also be impetuous and reckless. That obviously worried Longmore.

Since that talk, Alex had done his best to keep his head down and do as he was told. Had his decision to chase the Taube today destroyed the trust he had tried to build with his commander?

Longmore finally spoke. “I've ordered another Morane. It should arrive by the end of next week.”

Alex lifted his eyebrows. “You ordered another plane…for me?”

Longmore gave a curt nod. “That way you'll have one to fly while the other is being repaired.” He sent him a serious look. “I want to keep you in the air, Goodwin.”

Alex's chest expanded. “Thank you, sir.”

“Don't thank me, and don't get puffed up about it. Overconfidence and recklessness are a deadly combination.” Longmore glanced at the bullet holes. “Taking risks may be necessary, but know your limits. Remember your training. If you do, you might stay in the sky long enough to do some damage to the enemy. If you don't, you won't live long enough to make a difference.” Longmore paused, his gaze riveting. “Do you understand, Goodwin?”

Alex straightened. “Yes, sir.”

“Keep your wits about you. Take care of yourself and your plane…or planes, I should say.”

A smile pulled up one side of Alex's mouth. “I'll do my best, sir.”

“I'm counting on it. Now, go get something to eat, then report to my office. I want to hear exactly what happened on your flight today.” The commander turned and strode back across the airfield without waiting for his reply.

Meddis turned to Alex. “You don't see that often.”

“What?”

“Longmore handing out compliments. Or ordering extra planes.”

“That's true.” Alex glanced at the Morane again. She could be temperamental, but she was quick and light at the controls, and that suited Alex just fine. All the other planes in the squadron were biplanes, but the Morane had a single, high wing above the cockpit. That made it ideal for artillery spotting and aerial photography. The wood-framed fuselage was 22 feet long and the wingspan was 36 feet, giving her good stability in the air. She had an 80-horsepower Gnome engine that accounted for more than a third of her total weight. She was a real beauty…and now she'd have a sister.