Lily George (16 page)

He knew that tone of voice. It was her “I am disappointed, but hiding it” tone of voice. His hackles began to rise, ever so slightly. The little cottage wasn’t as big as his lordship’s home in the Crescent, but it was certainly bigger than Mother’s place in Essex.

Mary, blushing hotly under Macready’s scrutiny, embraced her brother warmly. “J-James, d-darling, how g-good to see you again.”

He nodded, the painful lump in his throat still rendering any attempt at speech impossible. It was good to see Mary again, too. She’d always softened Mother’s sharp edges.

Mother turned to Macready. “How good to see you again, sir.”

He bowed over her hand with extravagant courtesy. “It’s my pleasure, Mrs. Rowland.”

Mother laughed into her fine linen handkerchief, which had been mended a few times over. “Do you know, sir, that you and I are the only ones here who can converse without stammering most dreadfully? I vow, it shall remain our duty to keep the flow of conversation from ebbing.”

And there it was. The iron fist in the velvet glove. He had forgotten how Mother’s barbed comments could flick on a raw wound. Mary uttered a pained little cry beside him, and the sound gave him the courage to speak.

“M-M-Mother.” He stopped to clear his throat. “M-Mary and I shall d-do our p-part as w-well.”

“I’m sure you will try, the pair of you. But honestly, it can take a very long time for you to finish the simplest utterance.” Mother’s voice was soft and her blue eyes grew wide and pleading. As though she were trying to calm a recalcitrant child. “Now, where should we lay our things?”

Frustration welled within him along with the old urge to chuck something breakable against the wall, but he quelled it with some effort. “M-M-Mrs. P-Peyton will show you t-to your rooms.” He rang the bell.

“How fortunate that you have a servant, though it hardly seems necessary in a house as small as this.” Mother waved her hand about the room with a languid smile.

“I think it’s p-pretty,” Mary rejoined stoutly, giving James the old “chin up” look they used to share.

“It’s certainly better than my old flat.” Macready joined in with a hearty laugh. “I don’t even have my own servant. I share one with Lieutenant Cantrill.”

“Ah! Lieutenant Cantrill.” Mother dropped her hand and nodded at Macready. “Now there is a young man who came back from the war horribly disfigured and yet has made quite a bit out of his life despite the unfortunate circumstances.” Mother shot a knowing look at James. “You should follow his example, my son.”

“Well, I don’t know that Cantrill’s family would agree with you.” Macready, always game for a fight, took up the reins with alacrity. “His own mother came here not long ago, begging him to live in a style more suitable to their family’s standards.”

“Well, we mothers worry,” Mother simpered. “It’s hard to understand you boys once you enter the military—how very fundamentally it changes you.”

“And I am thankful for it.” Hot anger singed through James, burning its way through his stammer.

“Why, James—” Mother began, but the door to the parlor creaked open, admitting Mrs. Peyton.

“P-p-please show my g-guests to their rooms,” he murmured, running his hand through his hair. He was tired already, and Mother hadn’t been here more than a few moments.

Mrs. Peyton nodded and beckoned to Mother and Mary to follow her. As the door clicked shut behind them, Macready turned to James, a rueful grin twisting his face. “It’s going to be a long visit.”

“Yes,” James admitted with a sigh. “B-but Lucy is worth it.”

Chapter Sixteen

“I
cannot believe Sophie has gone. I refuse to believe it.” Amelia jumped up from her spot on Lucy’s bed and walked over to the window. “She would never leave without saying goodbye.”

“I’m afraid she had to leave in rather a hurry.” Lucy followed Amelia and laid her palm gently on her charge’s shaking shoulders.

“Why?” Louisa piped up from her spot on Lucy’s settee. “Why did she have to leave so quickly that she couldn’t even say farewell?”

Lucy hesitated a moment. How could she tell Louisa and Amelia that their Sophie had left because their beloved father made an improper proposal to her? A proposal she rejected? No, it was impossible. She must spare their feelings—and their innocence—a bit longer.

“There was a personal emergency that required Sophie to leave at once. Because time was so urgent, she did not have a chance to stay and bid an adieu to you two. But she did beg me to tell you both how much she loves you.”

Amelia turned from the window, wiping her eyes with her fingertips. “Of course. I know I shouldn’t be so selfish, but I shall miss her dreadfully.” Lucy handed her a handkerchief from the freshly laundered stack in her chest of drawers. “Thank you, Lucy.” She blew her nose gustily.

Lucy was buffeted on a sea of emotions. Her stable world had changed so much in the past few months. Her days used to be so simple, so predictable. Schoolroom work in the mornings, afternoons for lesson plans, Thursdays and Sundays to herself for reading and sewing. She expected nothing more of the world—for the world had nothing more to offer her. And then, in the space of a few weeks, she’d made and lost a friend in Sophie. She’d started working with the poor children of the veterans’ group. She’d met James and come to care for him more than she should ever allow herself to care for another human being.

“I wish everything weren’t so topsy-turvy,” she sighed and sank onto the settee beside Louisa.

“Are you quite all right, Lucy? It’s not like you to speak so.” Louisa’s brows drew together with concern. “Usually you are so brisk and cheerful.”

“I don’t feel brisk and cheerful. Not anymore.” She pursed her lips. She shouldn’t speak so. The girls were not her confidantes, after all. Everything was just overwhelming at the moment. She’d never even had a chance to tell Sophie about James’s proposal or his mother’s impending visit. And now Sophie had gone home with rather dreadful problems of her own. To whom could she confide?

Never before, not even in the orphanage, had she felt so unbearably alone.

She must snap out of this.

“Shall we go for a walk? Perhaps a stroll near the Circus would help to revive our flagging spirits,” she suggested, rising and stretching her arms.

“No, thank you. I shall stay and write a letter to Sophie,” Amelia demurred. “Will you post it? Do you know her address?”

“She promised to write when she is settled,” Lucy said, opening her closet and rummaging for her bonnet. “But I am sure we can just direct it to her in Tansley village. It’s a small place, and I daresay there’s only one Sophie Handley living there.” She tied her bonnet strings under her chin and drew on her gloves. “Louisa? Are you coming?”

“Yes, I will come with you.” Louisa rose from the settee and walked over to the door. “I’ll meet you outside, Lucy. I need to find my bonnet and pelisse.”

Lucy nodded. After Louisa and Amelia left her room, she hastened downstairs and out the front door. The cool breeze caressed her skin and caused her bonnet strings to dance. The leaves on the trees were beginning to fade from vibrant green to earthy oranges and yellows. Soon, fall would come. And what would it bring? Glad tidings or emptiness? She shivered a little. She should have brought her shawl.

The crunch of boot steps on the brick sidewalk made her glance up. James was fast approaching, his head down, his features obscured by the brim of his hat. Goodness, whatever was he doing here? They weren’t supposed to work on the library until the morrow. She cast a hasty glance up at the house. Louisa had not descended yet.

Lucy scurried down the walkway to meet him. “James?”

He glanced up and halted when he spied her running his way. “Lucy.” As she drew near, he grasped her arm and drew her close to his side, planting a kiss on her cheek that made her toes curl in her boots.

“Whatever’s come over you?” She glanced over her shoulder. If Louisa saw that kiss—

“Mother’s here,” he announced, his emerald green eyes staring down at her with an intensity that made her catch her breath.

Well, of course she was there. She had been due to arrive any day now. After all, James had invited her. And yet, why did the news make Lucy feel as though she’d been knocked from her horse?

“I see,” she gasped.

“I w-want you to d-dine with us. I came to see if you c-could join us. Tonight.” His voice sounded careworn, strained. She searched his face for clues as to his real feelings. His firm lips were tightly drawn, and the darkness under his eyes suggested he hadn’t slept well.

“So soon? I don’t know....” She glanced behind her once more. The girls would be dining with their father tonight. His lordship had canceled all his evening plans in the wake of Sophie’s departure. So she would not be expected to dine
en famille.
There was no reason to say no. She’d have to face Charlotte Rowland sooner or later. ’Twould be better to have things done quickly than to prolong the inevitable.

“I’ll come tonight,” she agreed.

“Thank you,” he replied and touched her cheek with his gloved hand. The softness of his touch was in direct contrast with the taut tone of his voice. “I know Mother and Mary will adore you. Is eight o’clock all right? I c-can c-come by and walk you to our new home.”

Our new home. He was so certain, so absolutely sure that everything would work out all right. Her eyes welled with sudden tears and she blinked them back rapidly. He mustn’t see how this affected her, for then they’d argue about it again...

Footsteps sounded behind Lucy, and she sprang away from James’s touch.

“Lucy?” Louisa called as she bustled toward them.

“I must go,” Lucy murmured, hastily wiping her eyes and composing her features into a semblance of blandness. For if Louisa knew that Lucy were about to meet her potential mother-in-law, there would be no end to the questions and suppositions.

James nodded and squeezed her hand. “Eight o’ c-c-clock.”

“I shall be ready.”

Louisa drew near, and James touched the brim of his hat. “Miss L-Louisa, how g-good t-t-to see you again.”

“Ensign Rowland,” Louisa replied, a smile lighting her face. “Have you come to finish the library? I am so excited about it. Papa is anxious to see the final results of your hard work.”

“We’ll be finished within the f-fortnight. There are still a f-few m-minor d-details that the workmen must see t-t-to,” James replied with a grin. He seemed to enjoy Louisa’s company and never grew impatient or affronted with her many questions.

Lucy tilted her chin, slanting her gaze up at him. He would be a good father someday. Her cheeks grew hot at that thought—but it was true. Some men had the gifts of nurturing and patience; others did not.

“Oh, very well then.” Louisa’s wide brown eyes narrowed, and she shifted her gaze from Lucy to James as though sizing up just why the two of them had met on the sidewalk. “Papa will be that much more surprised when he does get to see it.” She threaded her arm through Lucy’s. “We were just going on a walk over to the Circus. Won’t you join us?”

“No, thank you. I will go inside and m-make sure the w-workmen are fitting the m-moldings in as they should—it’s a t-tricky b-business.” James bowed to them both. “It was g-good to see you b-both again.”

They made their curtsies and continued down the sidewalk toward the Circus. As soon as they were out of earshot, Louisa spoke up. “I saw him kiss you.”

Lucy halted in her tracks. If Lord Bradbury found out that she had been kissed out in public, she’d lose her position for certain. Why, if he had even an inkling of a suspicion that Lucy was nearly engaged, he’d start looking for another governess. She turned to Louisa, her heart beating a rapid tattoo in her chest. “Please don’t tell anyone. It was perfectly innocent, I assure you.”

“Oh, Lucy, why must you keep pretending that I don’t know about you and Ensign Rowland? I can tell he adores you just by the way he looks at you. And I can tell that you adore him, too.” Louisa twirled her bonnet strings, a happy little smile quivering about her mouth. “Has he asked you to marry him?”

Lucy closed her eyes for a moment. Whatever should she do next? Louisa guessed at the truth, and she was becoming less and less adept at skirting the matter. “If your father finds out, I could well lose my position as governess in your house,” Lucy finally admitted. Perhaps if Louisa knew the gravity of what Lucy faced, she would cease her teasing ways.

Louisa shook her head. “Papa would never sack you,” she responded, “but I won’t tell a soul. So he has proposed? And did you say yes?”

“James has proposed.” Lucy sighed. “But I cannot say yes. Not until his mother and sister meet me and I earn their approval.” She took Louisa’s arm once more, and they continued their progress, dodging a flower cart that gave off a dizzying mélange of scents—roses, gardenias, violets.

“Well, of course they shall love you,” Louisa avowed stoutly. “Everyone does.”

“I wish I could be so certain,” Lucy murmured. “Remember, the Rowland family is of a much better background than mine. Few mothers would welcome a penniless orphan for their son.”

“Then we shall change their minds. When do you meet them?”

“Tonight. That’s why James came to call. I am to have dinner with his family this evening. His mother and sister came from Essex just to meet me.” Even saying the words was difficult. The thought of meeting Charlotte Rowland, of having to carry on an intelligent conversation with her, of having to eat with her—made her throat tighten. So much of her happiness lay in what James’s mother thought of her.

“Goodness. That doesn’t leave us much time to plan, but we shall persevere. Now, what did you plan to wear this evening?”

“I hadn’t really thought about it. I only just learned about the dinner a few moments ago,” Lucy admitted. “But I suppose I shall wear my gray silk. It’s the best dress I own.”

“Gray silk? For dinner with your prospective mother-in-law? I should think not. We must find something more festive.” Louisa paused at a milliner’s shop window, staring with grave intensity at a bonnet festooned with ostrich plumes. “Haven’t you anything more alluring than that gray silk?”

“Hardly.” Lucy’s defenses began to rise. It was never her place to look or be anything but serviceable and plain. She was a governess after all. Not a debutante...but then, there was that chest full of dresses that Sophie had left behind. “But Sophie left a few gowns for me. Perhaps I could rummage among them.”

“Yes, that’s much more what I was thinking of,” Louisa pronounced, turning from the window. “We shall go through Sophie’s things and find something elegant and beautiful. And we shall try a new way of dressing your hair. Perhaps in the Grecian manner, with part of it up, and the rest of it loose and flowing about your shoulders?”

“That’s quite enough,” Lucy interrupted crisply. “I’m just going for dinner with James’s mother and sister. I am not going to doll myself up as though I am headed to Vauxhall Gardens. I’ll find a suitably pretty gown, but I draw the line at fantastical hairstyles.” She tilted her head, eyeing her charge closely. “And why, pray tell, are you so eager to marry me off? With Sophie gone, one would think you might be eager to keep me about. Do I mean so little to you and your sister?”

“Oh, Lucy. You mean the world to us both.” Louisa flung her arms around Lucy and smothered her in a tight embrace. “But I cannot help myself. I am such a romantic. I want everyone to have a chance at their fairy-tale ending.”

* * *

James sat in the rented hackney for a moment, breathing deeply. He must go in and announce himself to Lucy, but first he must prepare himself. This evening was, in many respects, the culmination of his life since leaving the army. He was hosting a dinner in his own home. His mother and sister were ready to meet the woman of his dreams. And the woman of his dreams had consented to marry him if his mother gave her approval. When he lay praying for death in the rye field at La Sainte Haye, the prospect of an evening such as this would have seemed the product of a fevered hallucination. He was now, after years of being a boy, a man in his own right.

He opened the door—and nearly tumbled over Lucy who stood waiting on the mounting block.

“Are you all right?” he gasped. What in the world was she doing out here?

“Yes, I am quite fine. Let’s go now. Before his lordship can see.” She grasped his hand and pulled herself into the carriage, landing on the squabs with a thud. He closed the door and rapped on the window, signaling to the coachman that they were ready to return home.

Lucy pulled herself into a sitting position, arranging her pale yellow skirts around her ankles. “Why did you bring a hack? It made things so much more difficult for me to sneak away. I thought you were walking up.”

“Sneak away?” Something wasn’t right. Was she trying to hide being seen with him? Was she ashamed of him? “I d-don’t c-catch your meaning. I thought hiring a hack was the p-proper thing to do on a night like this. A sight better than w-walking.”

“Oh, James, don’t get angry. If his lordship realizes that I am meeting a young man, my very position as a governess in his home could be called into question.” She sat back on the cushions and drew her wrap about her more tightly. “I had to creep out and wait for you in the shadows like a footpad.”

“You cc-c-an t-tell his lordship t-tonight that we are t-t-to be m-married,” he protested, wishing that the words rang true. But somehow, they felt hollow. A niggling feeling of anger and despair roiled within him. He was going to lose her, somehow. He couldn’t hang on to her—she was too fine, too beautiful. She’d slip away like a leaf tossed on the wind.

“Don’t count your chickens before they’re hatched,” Lucy retorted crisply. “I still haven’t garnered your mother’s approval.”