Winter Is Past (5 page)

“Oh, very good, miss.” Mrs. Coates stood as soon as Althea did, her face troubled. “You don't think he'll mind that we moved Lady Stanton-Lewis, do you?”

“Don't trouble yourself about it. I'm sure he'll understand that we had no choice in the matter, with a duke outranking a baron. If he has any objections, tell him to see me about it. Now, have you had a chance to review the menu?”

“No, miss. But, if you have a moment, perhaps we could go down now and consult with Cook?”

“Let me see if Rebecca is awake. I shall join you in the kitchen momentarily.”

“Yes, miss.”

The two exited the sitting room together, with Althea heading up to see Rebecca. When she told her about the dinner party arrangements, Rebecca wanted to know the names of the guests who had accepted. Promising to tell her upon her return, as well as to describe the dishes to be served, Althea went back downstairs to review the menu.

Mrs. Bentwood, the cook, was showing Mrs. Coates the menu when Althea joined them. Although she had been talking with the housekeeper, the moment Althea entered she fell silent. Mrs. Coates handed Althea the list. Althea took it from her without a word and began reading: Clear Consommé, Salmon with Shrimp Sauce, Dover Sole, Chicken Fricassee, Giblet Pie, Roast Pheasant with Egg Sauce, Haunch of Venison, Peas, Potatoes, Cauliflower, Kidney Pudding, Preserves, Tongue with Red Currant Sauce, Lobster Bisque with Champagne, Pastry Basket, Fresh Fruit, Syllabub.

The menu sounded appropriate. Althea had watched her family's cook prepare many such menus in the cavernous kitchen at the estate where she spent her childhood. She had probably spent more time in their cook's company than with her own family. Althea knew well the army of kitchen maids needed to successfully prepare such an array of dishes. She looked up at the cook, thinking of the overcooked meats, cold potatoes and dry puddings that had been her fare since coming to this household.

“This is quite an ambitious menu. Mrs. Coates tells me the master has not entertained in quite some years. Will you need any extra help—”

Mrs. Bentwood pulled herself up to her full height, crossing her arms beneath her bosom. “I'll 'ave you know I've worked in the finest 'ouses of London. Many's the menu I've planned.”

“Yes, of course. Has everything been ordered?”

“Hit's all being taken care of.”

“Very well. The menu looks very good. I wish you the best success with it. Let me know if I may be of any help.” She turned toward Mrs. Coates. “I will go up to Rebecca, if you should need me.”

“M
iss Althea, what did you do before you came here?”

Althea looked up from studying the puzzle pieces on the lap table between them. She had soon discovered that Rebecca quickly tired of whatever activity she found for them to do and preferred to spend her time chatting.

“I worked with children, many your age.” She smiled across at the girl lying back against her voluminous pillows. “But none quite like you.”

Rebecca smiled in return. “What did you do with them? The same as with me?”

Althea straightened, easing the muscles in her shoulders. “Not quite the same thing. You see, these children don't live as you do here. Many have no home.”

Rebecca's dark eyes widened into pools of wonder. “They don't? Where do they live, then?”

“Wherever they can. Some find shelter in a doorway at night, or inside a crate. Some band together and live in an abandoned building. Some find a sort of protection with an adult. Unfortu
nately that protection comes at a price.” She answered Rebecca's look of bewilderment. “The adult obliges them to work for them. It usually involves dishonest work, such as stealing.”

“Stealing?”

Althea nodded. “Children are quicker than adults. They can be trained to steal someone's pocketbook or watch.”

“Doesn't the person know it?”

“No. The children are so quick and light-handed, the victim doesn't feel a thing. 'Tis only later, when they reach for their purse to pay for something, or need to take a look at their watch to see the hour, that they realize these items are gone. By then the children are far away.”

“What do the children do with the things they steal?”

“They have to give everything to their protector. That person sells everything to another person. One who doesn't care that the items are stolen.”

Rebecca mulled over this information for a few minutes. “What do you do with the children, Miss Althea?”

Althea laid down the piece she had been trying to fit in the puzzle. “I work with a small group of people who want to help these children. We have a place we call a mission. It's a building where all people, not just children, can come if they need a home. We give food to those who haven't enough to eat. We provide schooling for the children who haven't any school to go to. We have a small infirmary for those who are sick and haven't anyone to care for them.”

“Did you do all those things?”

Althea laughed. “No, not by myself. I do a little bit of everything. I work wherever I'm needed—sometimes in the school, sometimes in the kitchen, sometimes tending the sick. That's why your papa hired me to come here. He knew—or he was told—that I could nurse you when you weren't feeling well.”

Rebecca digested this. “Why did you leave that place? Didn't the people need you anymore?”

Althea hesitated. “No. The people still need care. But there are
others working there. I wasn't the only one.” She picked up a puzzle piece and tried it with another. It didn't fit. “I came to you because I felt this is where I should be.”

Rebecca looked at her as if not completely satisfied. “How did you know about me?”

“My brother told me. He and your father used to be very close friends when they were boys.”

“Is that true? How did they meet?”

“At school. They were a little older than you, but they were both far from home and a bit lonely, I suspect. Anyway, from what my brother, Tertius, has told me, they became very good friends.”

“Why haven't I ever met you, then?”

“Well, my brother went away for many years, so he and your father didn't see each other for a long, long time. It's just recently that they met again.”

“And that's when
Abba
told you about me!”

“In a way. Your papa and my brother started talking of all the things that had happened to them while they were apart. Your papa told my brother all about you—how smart you were, how lovely, how—” As Althea searched for another adjective, Rebecca finished for her.

“How I had no mama?”

Althea closed her mouth and nodded at Rebecca. The little girl's tone did not sound sad, merely matter-of-fact. “He said he needed someone to look after you while he was at work.”

Instead of pursuing the subject of her mother, Rebecca's mind went back to the children. “Didn't you mind leaving the children to come here?”

“It was difficult for me to leave the children.” She smoothed the coverlet under her hand. “I love them and I know they still need me.” She smiled at Rebecca's serious expression. “I could never have left them if I didn't know so certainly that the Lord wanted me to come here for a while, to be with you as long as you need me.”

After a little consideration, Rebecca replied, “I'm sorry you had to leave the children, but I'm glad you're here.”

“I'm glad I'm here, too. Why don't you help me find another piece in this puzzle? Look, I think this piece goes here.” Althea handed the girl a piece and indicated the area where she'd been working. Rebecca tried the piece and after a few attempts, got it in.

“It's part of the lion's head!” The emerging scene showed a train of jungle animals marching through a forest of palm trees and other foreign-looking vegetation. After her initial excitement, Rebecca lost interest in the puzzle again.

“Have you always lived at this mission?”

Althea glanced at Rebecca, unsurprised at her continued questioning. She'd become accustomed to it in the time she'd spent with the girl and was beginning to understand that her active mind more than made up for the inactivity of her body.

“No, I've only lived there, let's see, almost six years.”

“Where did you live before?”

“I grew up in a big house surrounded by lots of parks and forests,” she said with a smile, picturing the estate in Hertfordshire.

“Is that where you helped Cook with the tarts?”

“Yes,” she said, her smile deepening. “I think I spent more time in the kitchen than with the family. Except in summer, when I was outside every chance I got.”

“Didn't you have a mama, either?”

Althea glanced at Rebecca, surprised by her perception. “No, my mama died, too, when I was very young. I was probably about the same age as you,” she added, “just a babe, when I lost her. So, I don't remember her at all.”

“I don't remember my mama, either. Who took care of you if you had no mama?”

“A nice lady and gentleman. They became my guardians. They were very good to me.”

Rebecca considered for a moment. “Did they become your brother's guardians, too?”

Althea looked down at her hands, considering how to reply. “No. They were his real parents. I—I just came to consider him as my brother, since we grew up together.” Better that than get into the complicated truth of the actual relationship. “I had another brother, too, but he just recently passed away.”

“That's too bad,” the girl said softly. “It must be nice to have brothers. I have lots of cousins but no brothers. Mama died too soon.”

Althea was silent.

Rebecca soon brightened again as a new thought occurred to her. “Did this brother know my
abba,
too?”

Althea smiled. “I daresay not. I believe your papa and Tertius—that is, the younger of my brothers—were only together in school. I don't remember your papa ever visiting us over holiday.” Now she wondered whether that had had anything to do with Simon's being Jewish.

Tertius had never spoken of Simon. Althea had not realized what close friends they were until Tertius had pleaded on his friend's behalf for his daughter.

She gave Rebecca's hand a squeeze, acknowledging how close she had come to turning down his appeal. “The important thing is that the Lord had us meet now.”

 

That evening Simon glanced from his sleeping daughter's bed to the sitting room door. Seeing the light shining through the door Miss Breton always left ajar, he approached it and tapped softly.

Hearing her bid him enter, Simon pushed open the door. He found her sitting by the fire, reading by lamplight. “Good evening, Miss Breton. I don't wish to disturb you. I just wanted to ask you how Rebecca was today. I didn't have a chance to see her before I went to the House.”

She marked her place in the black, leather-bound Bible. “Rebecca was fine.” She smiled, adding, “She became quite animated when she found out about the dinner party. I had to describe all the dishes to be served and go over the guest list with her.”

Simon smiled, feeling refreshed by her smile. “May I come in?”

“Certainly.” She stood, but he waved her back. “Please, stay put. I shall only linger a moment.” He sat in a chair before the fire and sighed, feeling ragged after hours of debate. “How are things coming with the arrangements?” he asked perfunctorily, not really interested at that moment in preparations for a dinner party. He wondered if he'd been mad to even contemplate such a thing. “Have you and Mrs. Coates had a chance to sit down together?”

She fingered the edges of the book in her lap. “Yes, we did. I think Mrs. Coates and Cook have things well under control. I believe all the replies have been received. There should be thirteen in attendance aside from yourself.”

He was thankful he'd put her in charge; maybe it wouldn't be a complete fiasco. Why was it, when he could wield power from his bench in the House, he felt absolute terror at the thought of hosting those same men and their wives in his home for an evening?

Althea spoke again. “That is a good number for a dinner party, particularly if one hasn't entertained in a while. It is better to start small.”

“Is that a small number?” he asked, doubts assailing him.

“No, not all. It is a good number, as I said, neither too small nor too large a party, so that you will be able to give your attention to each one of your guests.” She added, “Mrs. Coates has drawn up the seating arrangements. She will be seeing you about one or two names that remain in question as to rank.” She hesitated. “There is only one problem, as I see it.”

He looked inquiringly at her, wondering what else he must worry about.

“The gentlemen outnumber the women. We are lacking two females to make the numbers even.”

“Is that an unforgivable social blunder? I confess to having more male acquaintances than female. It comes from working in Parliament and not having had much time up to now to mingle in society.”

She nodded. “That is understandable. There is one other thing. You had expressed to Mrs. Coates the desire to have Lady Stanton-Lewis seated at your right. Since the Duke and Duchess of Belmont have sent their acceptance, I felt obliged to give them prominence. We placed Lord and Lady Stanton-Lewis just below them. Does that meet with your approval?”

He waved a hand, his mind wearied with questions of social etiquette. It had been a momentary whim to ask to be seated beside Lady Eugenia. Now he couldn't care less. “Do whatever you deem appropriate. You are the expert on these matters.” Realizing Althea was really doing him an enormous favor in undertaking this responsibility, he tried to show some interest in the topic. “Will I be in disgrace for the uneven numbers?”

“Only with the very proper hostesses.”

He looked at her more closely, noting the humor in her eyes. He'd never shared a moment of humor with her. “Since I am probably not acquainted with them, I suppose I shall survive.”

“And give many more dinner parties,” she quipped.

He gave her a crooked smile, running a hand through his hair. “If my first proves not to be an unmitigated disaster.”

“Oh, I'm certain it shan't be.”

Her tone was oddly comforting. Simon stretched out his legs before the fire, thinking of his earlier meeting with the chief whip. “I don't know,” he began. “If my standing with my colleagues is any indication, I'll be lucky if anyone shows up.” After Simon's speech on the Corn Laws, the chief whip had taken him aside and given him a thorough dressing down, with warnings that came down directly from Liverpool himself, he intimated. If Simon didn't toe the party line, he might find himself back in the upper tier. He had succeeded in his party because of his gift for oratory, but if he used it against his own party, he could forget about a junior lordship.

Simon sat in silence, gazing at the fire, contemplating this dilemma.

As if reading his thoughts, Miss Breton's soft voice penetrated his hearing at last. “How…how are things in the House?”

He sighed deeply, giving her his attention once again. “Much debate and little real action. The Tories don't want things to change.”

“But you…are you not a member of the Tory party yourself?”

“Oh, yes. The party in power,” he added with irony. “It doesn't mean I agree with everything they stand for. I'm beginning to think I disagree with more and more each day.” He removed his spectacles and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Words, words and more words. I used to enjoy them. Now it seems as if all we do is bicker and call each other names. We're worse than a bunch of schoolboys at times. In the meantime, there are more men out of work each day, widows and children are going hungry, and those with work are rioting.”

“Yes, it does seem things have grown worse since the end of the war,” she agreed. “We all looked forward to peace with France, but since then, there are so many discharged soldiers and sailors. We see so many idle men around the mission, with nothing to do but drink.”

He looked at her in surprise, not having expected to be able to discuss these things with a woman, much less his daughter's nurse. Yet, because of her work at the mission, he realized, she was probably the one who would best understand.

A whimper from the other room caused them both to turn. Miss Breton immediately arose, with Simon close behind her. She pushed aside the bed curtains and knelt by Rebecca's pillow, feeling her forehead. It was hot.