In Good Company (19 page)

Dorothy blinked. “Why in the world would you have aimed a croquet ball at Caroline’s head? She’s a completely lovely soul.”

“She wants to send me and my brother and sister off to boarding school so that she won’t have to fuss with us anymore.”

Dorothy blinked again right before she arched a brow at Everett. “Is that true—does Caroline want to see them sent off to boarding school?”

“I don’t think now is the best time to discuss this, Mother.”

Dorothy glanced to the children before she nodded. “Very well, but do know that we
will
discuss it.”

She turned and smiled at Elizabeth. “You, dear girl, were always getting into mischief, even when you were little. However,
you’re quickly turning into a lovely young lady, which means that it’s time for you to manage that mischief. That means no future instances of aiming croquet balls at anyone.”

“How do you know I’ve always been prone to mischief?” Elizabeth asked.

“Mr. Mulberry and I, along with Everett, used to spend part of our summers holidaying in Saratoga Springs,” Dorothy said. “We specifically went there in order to visit with your parents, since your father, Fred, was a frequent and much loved guest in our house while he was growing up.” Dorothy smiled. “He, you’ll be pleased to learn, was quite the mischief-maker in his youth, so I was thrilled to find out that you possessed that very same trait. Why, one only had to look at the impish grin on your face to know you’d get your way in the end, even if it entailed staying in the mineral springs for hours at a time.”

Everett’s breath caught in his throat as pain took him by surprise and left him reeling. He’d been so agitated since he’d been given the children that he’d not allowed himself to revisit the fond memories he had of Fred, or of the many times they’d vacationed together even after Fred and Violet had their children.

He’d also never taken more than a brief moment to mourn, something that sent shame mixing in with the pain.

“You used to go on holiday with my family?” Elizabeth demanded, her hand no longer in his.

Everett summoned up a smile, one he hoped would mask the turmoil that was spinning through him. “Your father and I did grow up together, Elizabeth, and we went on holiday together every year throughout our youth, and even after we went off to college. Then, he met your mother and they got married, but I still met up with him often, traveling to Saratoga Springs, or visiting all of you at your home in Boston.”

He shook his head. “When you were about four, and the
twins were just babies, your parents started taking you sailing all over the world, and that’s when our annual holidays stopped, although I’d always hoped that after life settled down a bit for me and for your father, we’d once again have time to spend with each other.”

Elizabeth considered him for a long moment. “When you were in Saratoga Springs with us, did you throw me up high while we were in the water and then laugh when Daddy claimed you were giving him heart palpitations?”

“I must admit that I did.”

A little ghost of a smile played around the corners of her lips. “I remember that.”

Dorothy stepped closer to the fountain and cleared her throat. “I remember that you always enjoyed a good game of splashing, dear.” She dashed a hand over her eyes, cleared her throat again, and then smiled at Elizabeth. “It was not well done of Everett to douse me with that bucket of water, so . . . do promise to put your heart into soundly drenching him.”

With that, Dorothy sent Everett a nod, smiled at the children, looked Millie over as if she still didn’t know what to make of her, and then turned and strolled away without speaking another word.

“I like her,” Elizabeth proclaimed when Dorothy was almost to the cottage. “She changed her mind about dismissing Miss Millie, and that shows she’s a smart lady.”

Glancing to Millie, Everett found
her
dashing a hand across her eyes, much like his mother had recently done. Not understanding in the least what had caused her to break into tears, he opened his mouth but was interrupted by Elizabeth.

“You don’t mind if I call you Miss Millie, do you?”

The reasoning behind the tears was immediate, and Everett couldn’t help feeling incredibly proud of Millie once again. She
was already helping the children return to the adorable imps he’d once known, even if he’d forgotten how adorable they’d—

“Of course you may call me Miss Millie, Elizabeth,” Millie said. “But, before we forget the request Mrs. Mulberry left you, I say . . . get the bucket, and get it now.”

Before he could voice a single protest, Millie and Elizabeth jumped his way, and with renewed shouts of laughter, water began splashing once again, even as a sense that the world as he knew it had changed forever took root inside him.

9

E
njoying a rare moment of peace and quiet, Millie settled into the chair on the back terrace of Seaview, appreciating the serene beauty that surrounded her. To her right, the ocean sparkled in the bright morning light, and to her left, a peacock strutted before her, fanning out his tail feathers even though Millie didn’t see any peahens around to appreciate his efforts. Picking up the cup of coffee Mrs. O’Connor had very kindly made her, she took a sip and allowed her thoughts to wander.

She was rapidly coming to the conclusion that her world was turning rather topsy-turvy.

The children, bless their little hearts, were no longer trying to do her in.

Everett was spending time with those children while being far too charming to her in the process, and Mrs. Mulberry had taken to watching her . . . at every turn.

To say it was all very confusing was an understatement.

“Ah, Miss Longfellow, I’ve been looking for you,” Dorothy exclaimed as she stepped through the French doors and immediately headed Millie’s way. “I went up to your room to check
on you, but . . . good heavens, it’s no wonder I didn’t find you in there, what with the horrendous décor and all.”

She pulled out a chair beside Millie and sat down. “I do hope you won’t mind, but I took the liberty of instructing Mr. Macon to have those drab drapes taken away from your room. What Everett’s decorator was thinking using all that brown, well, I really couldn’t hazard a guess, but . . . would it offend you if I took to calling you Mille instead of Miss Longfellow?”

Barely blinking an eye over that rapid change of topics, probably because she’d been around Abigail so often of late, Millie set aside her coffee. “Forgive me, but . . . why would you want to do that? If you’ve forgotten, I’m the . . . nanny.”

“Well, of course you’re the nanny, dear. That certainly isn’t in dispute. As for the other matter, well, I think it would be beneficial to the children if we provided them with a more relaxed atmosphere. That means you’ll need to call me Dorothy.”

Dorothy leaned forward, poured herself a cup of coffee from the silver pot Mrs. O’Connor had left on the table, took a sip, and then turned her gaze to the vast expanse of green lawn. “May I assume Everett and Fletcher are still off searching for bugs with the children?”

“They are, which is why I decided to take my coffee in this particular spot, in case they find themselves in need of some professional assistance. But returning to me calling you by—”

“Very wise of you, my dear, to make yourself available to Everett and Fletcher,” Dorothy interrupted before Millie could finish her point. “I have to tell you, I’ve been watching you with the children for the past day and a half, as well as watching you interact with my son, and . . . I have to admit I’m finding myself, surprisingly enough, very impressed with you.” She beamed Millie’s way right as her eyes began to sparkle almost exactly like Abigail’s did when she was . . . scheming.

Stuffing a large portion of a scone in her mouth in order to give her some much needed time to think, Millie proceeded to chew that scone for a rather long stretch of time. Finally, having no choice but to swallow it, she summoned up a smile. “I thought you weren’t really impressed with my skills as a nanny.”

Dorothy gave an airy wave of her hand. “That’s all water under the bridge, my dear, and you can’t actually blame me for my first misimpression, given the condition I found the children in. But, again, I’ve changed my mind about you, and not just about your abilities as a nanny.” Dorothy beamed another bright smile Millie’s way.

Pushing aside the thought that Dorothy was scheming, especially since Millie knew perfectly well that society mothers never schemed with regard to the staff, Millie wiped her lips with a napkin, having no idea what to say next. Luckily, Dorothy didn’t seem to be experiencing that particular problem.

“I found the dinner we shared last night to be simply delightful,” Dorothy continued. “I especially enjoyed the discussion you and Everett shared regarding books. Why, I had no idea Everett doesn’t particularly care for Shakespeare’s writing, but I was tickled to death to learn that you were a big supporter of the Bard’s work.”

“I don’t know if I’d go so far as to claim I’m a big supporter,” Millie corrected. “If you’ll recall, I did mention that I’m not always certain what Shakespeare is actually saying.”

“You might not understand all of his work, dear, but it’s still impressive that you’re giving Shakespeare a go in the first place.” Dorothy took a sip of coffee. “It was unfortunate that Caroline made the decision not to join us last night, especially after Everett sent her a note, telling her Fletcher and I had come to Newport.”

“Ah . . . well . . . I’m sure she probably had a prior engagement she couldn’t neglect.”

Dorothy lifted her chin. “Perhaps, but . . . one would think she’d . . .” Dorothy stopped speaking midsentence and sent another smile Millie’s way. “I shouldn’t be burdening you with such talk, so . . . tell me more about how Abigail’s been doing of late. I thought for certain
she
would come to dinner last night.”

Millie shifted in her chair. “I fear I was probably the reason for her claiming to be indisposed, Mrs. Mulberry.”

Dorothy nodded. “Ah, you sent her a note telling her I was originally put out with what I thought were unacceptable shenanigans on her part, didn’t you.”

Millie frowned. “No, although now that you mention that, I probably
should
have sent her a note of warning, since she is my friend. However, I think she made herself scarce last night because I was a little put out with her over my unexpected acquiring of an entirely new wardrobe, while experiencing an unexpected loss of my normal clothes.”

“But you look completely charming this morning, as you did last night, so there’s really no need for you to be annoyed with Abigail.”

The pesky notion of scheming ladies flickered once again through Millie’s thoughts, a notion she quickly shoved aside. “I know Abigail means well, but I can’t properly run after three children in garments that are better suited to being at my leisure than doing anything of a strenuous nature.”

“Since you’re currently at your leisure, you’re dressed exactly as you should be dressed.”

“But because your son is paying me to look after the children, I’m sure you’ll understand why I’m going to change back into the only skirt and blouse I have left just as soon as they come back from being laundered.”

“If you’ll excuse me, I need to see about having another pot of coffee brewed.” With that, Dorothy rose from her chair and practically bolted for the house.

Having no idea what to make of that, and knowing she wouldn’t be able to figure it out anyway, Millie picked up the copy of
Emma
she’d brought outside with her and flipped to the page she’d marked.

She read all of three pages before the squeak of the French doors drew her attention, and she found none other than Caroline Dixon walking her way.

“I was hoping to find you gone,” Caroline said as she came to a stop in front of the table.

Setting aside the book, Millie rose to her feet, wincing when she noticed a bruise on Caroline’s head, one that just happened to be formed in a perfect circle, quite like a circle a tennis ball would make. “It certainly is nice to see you today, Miss Dixon, especially since I’ve wanted to apologize again for . . .” She waved to Caroline’s head, earning a sniff in response.

“Apology not accepted, Miss Longfellow, but . . .” Caroline’s eyes narrowed as she looked Millie up and down. “What in the world are you wearing, and why are you out here on the terrace, sipping coffee and reading . . . Is that a Jane Austen book?”

“It is.
Emma,
in fact. One of my favorites, if you—”

“Where are your nanny clothes?” Caroline interrupted.

“If you can believe this, most of them have mysteriously disappeared.”

Caroline’s face began to darken. “Did Abigail Hart have something to do with the mysterious disappearance of your clothing?”

“As to that, ah . . .”

Drawing herself up, Caroline’s nostrils flared. “I told Everett yesterday I won’t stand for this nonsense. If you think, for one
minute, that I’m simply going to stand by and watch as Mrs. Hart tries her hand once again at inappropriate matchmaking, well, you’re sadly mistaken. I am Miss Caroline Dixon, and as such . . .”