Regina Scott (13 page)

“Sir Nicholas asked me to help him with his work,” Emma explained, rising, as well.

Charlotte shook her head. “Really, Nicholas, must you conscript my staff? What a very good thing that I’ve hired another then.”

For a moment he thought she meant that she’d hired another nanny. This time his stomach dipped, so low that he thought it might reach his knees, if that were possible. But the man following Charlotte through the door could not have been meant to raise children. He was tall, with shoulders that seemed too broad and a neck that seemed too short. With his close-cropped hair and bulging nose, he looked more like a pugilist than a footman. When he gave Nick a hesitant smile, Nick saw that his right incisor was missing, leaving a gap on one side of his mouth.

“This is Mr. Jerym Jones,” Charlotte said to the room at large. “He will be assisting Miss Pyrmont in the nursery. I understand they knew each other in a previous post, so I’m sure they’ll get along quite well.”

Charlotte seemed confident in her pronouncement, as she usually was. For once, his sister-in-law’s timing was perfect. Emma already had too much work seeing to Alice and keeping the nursery, and having some help would allow her to construct his wicks. And if she’d known the man before, his unconventional looks would likely not concern her.

But it was obvious that something about the new footman concerned Emma. Her face had lost nearly all its usual warm color, and she fell back into her seat as if the air was suddenly too thin to breathe.

Why such a reaction?

Immediately his mind began sorting the available data. Charlotte had said Emma had known the man previously, which would have to have been in London. Nick had considered the possibility that Emma had left London after some difficulty. Was this man the problem? Had he offended her, accosted her? If so, Nick would order him from the grounds this very minute.

He felt his shoulders rising, his eyes narrowing at the fellow, whose smile slipped off his face.

Nick turned to Emma. “Is there a problem?” he asked.

Emma’s mouth worked, but no words came out. Nick returned his glower to the new footman.

Jones didn’t quail under it. Indeed, there was almost a challenge in those gray eyes.

“I surely hope there’s no problem, sir,” he said respectfully enough. “My previous employer turned me out without a proper reference. Mrs. Dunworthy was kind to accept my application.”

Charlotte managed a smile, but her gaze now focused on Nick.

“Yes, Mrs. Dunworthy has been considerably kind of late,” Nick replied. That was odd enough. He knew Charlotte peppered each new staff member so thoroughly he wondered how they managed to find anyone willing to serve. Now she’d hired this Jerym Jones without having so much as a reference for his previous work.

“I merely know an exceptional staff member when I see one,” Charlotte said, raising her chin. “But if you need further details, Nicholas, I can provide them.”

“No need,” Emma said, hands suddenly busy with the lid of the tureen. “Mr. Jones always gave good service in our previous post. I’m sure he’ll do as well here.”

The new footman nodded, sandy hair catching the light. “That I will.”

“Excellent,” Charlotte said. “If that’s settled, I need your opinion on a matter, Nicholas. Miss Pyrmont, I leave you to acquaint Jones with the specifics of his post. I’ll be back later to kiss you good-night, Alice. Now come along, Nicholas.”

Another time Nick would have refused. He had never much liked being told how to behave. But he had questions for his sister-in-law, so he let the matter slide. Still, he paused before following her out the door.

Emma’s head remained bowed, her capable hands moving as she tidied up the dinner table and stacked the dirty dishes on the tray. He would have thought it was the most important matter she would undertake all day, but he knew better.

“If you have any trouble, Miss Pyrmont,” he said, “I want you to bring the matter directly to me. Do you understand?”

She glanced up and nodded solemnly. “Yes, Sir Nicholas. And thank you for your kindness. But I can take care of matters myself.”

He could only hope she was right. But he vowed to keep an eye on the new footman, just in case.

Chapter Thirteen

E
mma waited until Nicholas and Mrs. Dunworthy had left the room before turning to her foster brother.

Jerym grinned at her, showing his missing tooth to advantage. “Mr. Fredericks sends his regards.”

Emma felt sick. When she’d first seen Jerym in the doorway, she’d feared this very thing—that, despite his tale of woe to Mrs. Dunworthy, he’d come on behalf of their foster father. Emma wasn’t about to acknowledge that relationship in front of Alice, who was watching them, her eyes large and expectant.

She held up one finger to stop Jerym from continuing. “Not another word from you, sir. You have a position, and I expect you to fulfill it.”

He shrugged. “I’m certain we can come to an agreement.”

Did he think she’d be so delighted to see him she’d do his tasks for him? Or that she’d cower before him like she used to cower before Mr. Fredericks? Best to disabuse either notion now. She pointed to Alice’s bedchamber. “No need for an agreement. You are to prepare the fire in Miss Rotherford’s room, bring up fresh water from the kitchen and take back the dinner tray as you go.”

That wiped the smile from his face. “No one said you were to be my supervisor.”

“I’m the nanny, you’re the footman,” Emma replied tartly. “Who do you think orders your day? Now, hop to it!”

As soon as the words left her mouth, she regretted them. They were too much like Mr. Fredericks’s favorite orders. As if her foster brother thought so as well, his shoulders went up and his mouth tightened. Still, he snapped a nod and went about the work she had set him.

She wanted to feel sympathy for him. But truly, the work she’d set out for him was expected of any footman. She couldn’t favor him simply because he was her foster brother. Besides, if he had cut his ties to their foster father, then he should be glad for an honest position and willing to work hard to keep it. And if he was still doing Samuel Fredericks’s bidding, he would get no mercy from her.

“Lady Chamomile doesn’t like him,” Alice announced.

“Lady Chamomile is a very wise person,” Emma replied, returning to her seat. “But we’ll need to become better acquainted with Mr. Jones before we make any decisions on whether we like him.”

She had the opportunity to question her foster brother further after she and Ivy had settled Alice for bed. Jerym was cleaning up the nursery, and the maid kept casting glances at his tall form out the open doorway of Alice’s bedchamber. Emma sent her back to help finish the kitchen work, which earned her a sigh from Ivy.

Emma returned to the nursery to find her foster brother putting away Alice’s toys in ill-disguised annoyance.

“Set those down a moment, and come talk to me,” Emma said, going to sit in the rocking chair by the fire.

“Oh, but I couldn’t shirk such an important duty,” Jerym sneered.

Emma pointed to the chair opposite her, the one Alice usually perched on. “Sit.”

Jerym let the blocks fall with a clatter and bowed. “Yes, your majesty, queen of the nursery.” He took one look at Alice’s padded chair and leaned against the mantel instead, crossing his arms over his chest and stretching the shoulders of his blue coat.

“Why are you here?” Emma asked.

He kept his head high. “My previous master discharged me without a reference. I heard you were working here and thought you might vouch for me.”

Emma applauded quietly. “Excellent recitation. I always thought you’d do well on the stage.”

He snorted, but he dropped his arms. “It’s a poor story. That tight-faced housekeeper must be dim to believe it.”

“Not dim,” Emma assured him, thinking back to her dealings with Mrs. Dunworthy. “But perhaps too willing to trust when something meets her needs in other ways. You and I don’t have that problem. We know trust must be earned. Now, tell me the truth.”

He glanced at the door to Alice’s room and leaned closer. The firelight danced in his smoky gray eyes. “Mr. Fredericks is none too sure of your employer, or you for that matter. He thought you might be telling tales.”

Emma wanted to scoot closer to the fire, anything to remove the chill that came over her. But she refused to let Jerym see the least sign of her distress.

“And what if I were telling people how I’d spent my life before now?” she replied. “I doubt any stories from me would affect him. You know many would say I was the fool for walking away. After all, I had a home, good food, decent clothes and an offer of marriage.”

“Does seem a shame to waste,” Jerym said, glancing around the nursery. He leaned back, nudged the fender a little straighter with one foot. “Wouldn’t you rather be a wife with your own home than a servant in someone else’s?”

“I’d rather be a servant than a slave,” Emma countered. “That’s all I was to Mr. Fredericks, and I can’t believe it would have been any different with the man he ordered me to marry. At least here, I’m paid for my work, and I can leave any time I like.”

“Lucky you,” Jerym muttered, and this time there was no scorn in his voice.

Something tightened inside her. They’d all been orphans once, abandoned in the foundling home with no one willing to raise them. Samuel Fredericks with his ample girth, broad smile and friendly voice had seemed a Godsend. And even if they had known his true nature, they couldn’t have refused. Orphaned children didn’t get to pick and choose who adopted them, where they went to live.

But adults did.

“You don’t have to obey his orders,” Emma said. “You can break away, start your own life.”

Jerym waved around the nursery. “Be king of all this, you mean? Fetch and carry and scrape and bow for pennies and what, a half day off once a month? The kick out the door if I’m old or injured? No, thank you. I’ll take my chances with Mr. Fredericks.”

“Then you might as well leave now,” Emma scolded. “I haven’t said anything that would embarrass him. You have nothing to report.”

Jerym straightened away from the fire to tower over her. “That’s not his concern. He wants to know what you told Rotherford about his studies.”

His glower was meant to intimidate her. It had worked on the younger boys once. Then they’d all learned there was someone far more powerful they had to fear.

Now Emma rose as well, gaze meeting Jerym’s in challenge. “
His
studies? I promise you, there is nothing he’s doing that is so very innovative. Sir Nicholas is miles ahead of him.”

“Is he now?” She could hear the calculation in her foster brother’s voice. “What line is he pursuing?”

“Nothing that need concern you,” Emma said, hands on her hips. “Or Mr. Fredericks. Leave now, Jerym. You’ll only make trouble for yourself if you stay.”

He narrowed his eyes and lowered his head to meet her gaze. “It’s you who should worry about making trouble, Emma. I could tell Mrs. Dunworthy all about you.”

Oh, but he’d learned well. Fortunately, so had she.

“She already knows,” Emma retorted. “I told her about my connection to Mr. Fredericks when I took the job. She knows about me running away from an unwanted marriage, about being an orphan. You have nothing to hold over me, Jerym.”

He frowned, straightening. “If she knows all that, why would she accept my Banbury tale about us working together at another house?”

“Perhaps she assumed you meant Mr. Fredericks’s,” Emma said, dropping her hands. “I told her I’d worked there overseeing the children. It was only the truth. I might not have been paid, but I took care of his daughters.”

“And us, too,” Jerym agreed. He smiled then, his first true smile since he’d walked in the door. “We’ve missed you, Emma. Little Mother, Frank used to call you. I wasn’t sure Barty would ever let go of your hand. He sends his love.”

Emma couldn’t help smiling, too, remembering her youngest foster brother. He’d been Alice’s age when they’d all gone to live with the Frederickses. Of any of them, he’d seemed to need love and assurance the most. If her actions had given him that, she was glad.

“And Frank?” she asked.

Jerym’s gaze fell. “He’s not up to talking right now. There was another accident in the laboratory.”

Emma felt the familiar tightening in her stomach. “Bad?”

Jerym shrugged. “He mistook a direction and ended up splashed with some chemicals.”

Mistook a direction. That was Jerym’s way of saying Frank hadn’t followed Mr. Fredericks’s instructions fast enough or accurately enough and had been doused with the mixture as a punishment. Her scar ached as she remembered.

“Hands or feet this time?” she asked, almost afraid to know the answer.

“Neither.” Jerym’s voice was tight. “Peeled the skin right off his face, and I’m none too sure about his right eye.”

Anger surged up inside her. “You see! You have to leave him, Jerym, all three of you. He doesn’t care about you. He’ll kill you all!”

“Hush!” Jerym grabbed her arms and held her still as if even the movement of her hand would bring their foster father down upon them. “It’s food and clothes, a roof over our heads and easy work, most days. Who else would take us on?”

“Mrs. Dunworthy,” Emma protested. “She hired you with no more reference than a word from her nanny. There must be others like her, willing to overlook our circumstances. Good people, kind people, ready to give us a chance.”

Jerym released her. “Good old Emma, always the dreamer. You seem to have found a nice place here, but don’t think it will be the same for the rest of us.” He tweaked her cheek, and she jerked away. “We don’t have pale gold hair and a winsome smile. Barty’s got a hump in his back from carrying things when he was too young. Frank won’t be turning any heads after this accident, unless it’s to look away in revulsion. No house will hire us to mind the babies or do anything else for that matter.”

She didn’t want him to be right. Outer beauty wasn’t what was important. It was a person’s heart that mattered. And she knew their hearts—Barty with his shy laugh and clever hands, always trying to please; Frank with his quick calculations, ready to get the job done; even Jerym, looking for the easiest, fastest way to reach a goal. They were men with potential, with capabilities. Someone besides her had to see that!

You must see it, Lord. You made them. Surely there’s a place in this world for them better than with Samuel Fredericks!

“I think you’re wrong,” Emma told him. “You may not like being servants, but there’s honest work to be done. Better than what you have now.”

“Maybe,” he said, but she could see he didn’t believe her.

“So what will you do?” Emma challenged. “I won’t have you spying on Sir Nicholas.”

Jerym raised his thin brows. “Won’t? That’s a strong word, Miss Pyrmont.”

Emma held her ground. “Won’t, Mr. Jones. I’ll tell Mrs. Dunworthy why you’re here. I’ll tell Sir Nicholas.”

He puffed out a sigh. “Mr. Fredericks won’t like that.”

Emma patted his arm. “Ah, but he’ll be angry with me, and I’ll be over a hundred miles away.”

“Won’t stop him from taking it out on those closest.”

She nearly shuddered. He was right there. She had to give him something to report that wouldn’t get him into trouble.

“Just tell him the truth,” she advised. “Sir Nicholas is examining the problem from a material perspective and seems to have exhausted his knowledge for now. He is no closer to a solution than Mr. Fredericks was when I helped with his research. That should satisfy our foster father for the moment.”

Jerym nodded and went to retrieve the building blocks. “I’ll be gone in the morning, then. And I wish you luck, Emma. It would be nice to think that you at least found a place to call home.”

Emma went to put a hand on his arm, heart hurting. “You could, too, Jerym. I know it. Think about what I said.”

“I will.” He shot her a smile. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, Miss Pyrmont, I really should see to my duties. It’s the least I can do after all you’ve done for me.”

* * *

Nick strode back to the nursery later that night. Charlotte’s questions had been no more pressing than his preference for beef or lamb at dinner. It was almost as if she wanted to leave Emma alone with this new footman. Nick knew he couldn’t rest until he was certain all was well in the nursery.

But when he entered, he found the space empty. A quick glance in his daughter’s room showed her sleeping soundly, Lady Chamomile pressed against her. Emma must have gone to bed, as well.

For a moment, he considered confirming that hypothesis, but peeking into her bedchamber, even to ensure her safety, seemed wrong. Instead, he located Charles, who was putting out the corridor lamps for the night.

“Watch the new footman,” he ordered. “Tell me if you see anything of concern.”

Charles snapped a nod. “Very good, Sir Nicholas.”

Hoping he’d done enough to protect Emma, Nick retired for the night. He woke the next morning determined to put his calculations to the test. All he needed were those wicks from Emma. If the new footman did his job well, surely she would find time to create the wicks to his specifications. He shaved and dressed and went to the kitchen to forestall the delivery of his breakfast.

“I intend to eat with Alice this morning,” he told Mrs. Jennings, who beamed at him so broadly he could only wonder how wide a person’s face would stretch. Was it a matter of emotion or muscle? Another question for his colleague studying anatomy.

Alice was equally delighted to see him, if the squeal she uttered was any indication. Had anyone determined the exact pitch that would shatter crystal? Alice had very nearly reached it, he thought, and he was rather proud of his daughter.

Emma seemed nearly as pleased to see him, further assuaging his concerns about the new footman. She was dressed in the blue gown again this morning, the one that made her eyes match the color of the sky over the peaks on a summer’s day like today. He felt his spirits lifting just by looking at her. But then she lifted the lid on the porcelain bowl in front of her where she sat at the nursery table, and he was dismayed to see the familiar gray and lumpy material inside.

“Porridge,” she explained as if she’d noticed his look.

“It’s yummy, Papa,” Alice assured him. “Lady Chamomile loves it.”