And it was clear from Mrs. Briggs’ expression that Caroline had changed enough over the years to be beyond recognition.
“Can I help ‘ee, madam?” Mrs. Briggs asked as she wiped her hands on her stained apron. “We’re a mite full at the moment, but I can make some of the rest budge up for ‘ee.”
“Mrs. Briggs,” Caroline greeted with a smile. “My name is Caroline Perkins.”
The wide eyes of the woman went wider as she scanned Caroline up and down. “Bless my soul, o’ course you are! Spit of your mother, an’ so! Come ‘ere, you blessed angel!” She enveloped Caroline in a warm hug, taking no thought for any differences in station, in fortune, or anything else. Which was just how Caroline wanted it.
She hugged the older woman back and let her kiss both cheeks repeatedly.
“Look at ‘ee!” Mrs. Briggs squealed, pulling back and pinching one of Caroline’s cheeks. “Beauty beyond compare, Angel, just as I always vowed. Not quite so tall as your mum, but a perfect height all the same. Can I fix ‘ee a cuppa?”
“I’d love one,” Caroline replied on a sigh. “And… I need to ask about my father.”
“Aye,” Mrs. Briggs said with a knowing nod and a wave. “Aye, I’d have told ‘ee even if ‘ee ‘adn’t asked. Come along, we’ll settle it all, an’ so.” She gestured again and led the way down to the kitchens.
Caroline followed, though she’d have known the way without help. While the foyer and parlor were all changed, the structure of the rooms themselves had not altered in the slightest.
Strange the things one noticed.
Soon enough, she was seated at the same wooden table at which she had sat as a girl, sipping a cup of tea and feeling more herself than she had in quite some time. And, strangely enough, though Mrs. Briggs in no way resembled her mother, she felt more at home.
“Ah, Angel,” Mrs. Briggs sighed after a particularly long drink of her own tea, into which she had added a hint of something from a flask in her apron pocket, “I can’t tell ‘ee anything worthy about your father. ‘Ee know ‘e’s been renting ‘is ‘ouse from me.”
Caroline nodded, fiddling absently with her teacup. “Yes, I remember.”
Mrs. Briggs only shook her head slowly. “Twice late on ‘is rent at the ‘ouse now, even though I’ve reduced it to just the one room and parlor. ‘E always smells of strong drink, and ‘as been too often at Mrs. Bradshaw’s door.”
That stunned Caroline and she could barely swallow, even when taking another sip of tea. Her father had never been one for loose women before, but to be so bold as to go to the very establishment that supplied all of the dockyards with their women? She hardly knew her father, it seemed.
“And his business?” Caroline murmured after eventually managing to swallow.
“I can say nothing o’ that,” Mrs. Briggs replied as she adjusted her position on her rickety bench. “Never comes up in conversation. ‘E don’t tell, and I don’t ask. But I can’t think it’s going well, Angel. Not well at all.”
Caroline nodded very slowly, the motion more of a ritual response than a genuine one. The revelations required some answer, and she gave one, though she could not have said what it meant.
She could have gathered as much about her father from the state of his letters and what Mr. Coolidge had said but hearing the truth of it made the reality all too certain.
“A pity, Angel,” Mrs. Briggs bemoaned. “Such a pity.”
Caroline glanced up at the plump woman. “What’s a pity?”
Mrs. Briggs’ mouth formed a puckered line. “That your uncle was the one to meet ‘is Maker afore ‘twas proper. ‘E’d’ve set ‘ee up right, mark my words. ‘Ee take more after ‘im than your father, in looks and in temper. Same twinkle in the eye, same smirk when ‘ee think. People did talk when ‘ee were a babe, but no one ever said aught.”
They said… what?
Caroline had never heard so much as a whisper of such a thing in her entire life, and now it would come to light? Of course, it was only rumor and gossip, and only here where she had been raised, so there was no true risk of it finding its way into Society, or to Lady Ashby. But Caroline didn’t fit perfectly there, and she did not fit perfectly there. And an illegitimate child did not fit anywhere when making a good match was the end goal, even it was only in rumor.
Could it be true?
Surely she would have been told. Surely someone would have known or said. She had always favored her mother over her father, so how was anyone to suspect anything?
She wouldn’t believe it. Couldn’t.
Rumor and suspicion only, and all that in the past.
Caroline nodded to herself, forcing a small smile. “Yes, I do miss Uncle Paul immensely. He would have kept Father from much trouble. He was the one to provide for me in a way I’m not sure Father ever could.”
Mrs. Briggs gave her a sympathetic nod. “Indeed ‘e would, Caro Angel. Indeed ‘e would. Care for a biscuit?”
* * *
Sheffield had said Will could call at any time. He’d practically begged him to call and save him from the monotony that would be Ashby House.
How there could be monotony with Miss Perkins about was beyond Will, but he was well aware that he was biased where Miss Perkins was concerned.
Anyone would be.
Will paused as he disembarked from his coach, his eyes widening. What if Sheffield was also biased? The man was living in the same house as her for the time being, and she was the most beautiful creature God’s hands had ever created. If heaven had angels with auras of glory, none could be fairer than she.
Why wouldn’t Sheffield want such a woman for a wife? She was also witty and capable, not easily ruffled, and far and away the least silly woman Will had ever encountered. She wanted a quiet, simple life, which meant she would never stray, would never ask for much, and was quite likely to always be content so long as care was given her.
Perfection in a woman, he had no doubt.
Sheffield could not have her.
Will’s brow snapped down and he strode for Ashby House. He would take it up with his friend at this very moment if he had to, even if it meant declaring his intentions prematurely.
He was that convinced of Miss Perkins suiting him.
It was not gentlemanly at all to act in such haste or to be so rash with a friend he’d had for years.
That suited him rather well indeed.
Lady Ashby’s intractable butler Fellows greeted him at his arrival and informed him that Mr. Sheffield had gone out on an errand of a personal nature, and that Miss Sheffield was still away at a house party.
Neither of these statements gave Will any discomfort.
“Would you wish to call upon her ladyship and Miss Perkins?” Fellows continued in his perfectly mild and polite tone.
Why, yes. Yes, he would.
“I would dearly love to pay my respects to both,” Will informed the man. “But pray, do not interrupt their schedule for me. I will come to them, if you think it permissible.”
Fellows smiled a little. “I think her ladyship would have insisted you come to her anyway, sir. The ladies are in the garden. May I show you the way?”
Satisfied he would have gotten what he wished no matter what he’d said, Will nodded and followed Fellows to the back of the house to a lovely, tidy garden. Lady Ashby sat in a chair with her head tipped back, safely ensconced in the shade while Miss Perkins sat beside her, book in hand, her lips moving as she evidently read aloud.
“Mr. Debenham, your ladyship,” Fellows intoned when they reached the ladies.
Will bowed by way of greeting. “My lady, Miss Perkins. I hope neither of you consider my coming a disruption to your day. I did not like to pass without paying my respects.”
Lady Ashby beamed up at him through the pallor of her expression. “Of course not, Mr. Debenham! We are delighted to have you, are we not, Miss Perkins?”
Miss Perkins, who had risen and curtseyed, now dipped her chin in the most adorable s
ign of deference ever. “Yes, ma’am. Delighted.”
If the color in her cheeks were any indication, that was not a false statement for Miss Perkins, and the thought sent Will’s heart soaring.
Control, his mind ordered with some emphasis.
Right. Control. That was not a gentlemanly request, per se, only a human one. He could listen to such an edict.
“Miss Perkins has been indulging me with some reading this morning after her lessons,” Lady Ashby told him, indicating her companion gently. “But I do feel that my ears could rest a while. Would you care to show Mr. Debenham about the gardens, Miss Perkins? It would do you good to walk a bit more. Otherwise you risk becoming old before your years as I am.”
He couldn’t listen, he wouldn’t have control, and he would let his heart soar in whatever direction it would and to whatever heights.
Composed as any gentleman ought to be, Will bowed slightly. “If Miss Perkins is willing, I would very much like to see the gardens.”
Miss Perkins nodded once and turned to set her book down on the small table beside Lady Ashby before gesturing towards the garden and stepping onto the stone path.
She could have gestured to hell itself and he would have fallen into step beside her.
Neither of them said anything for a moment, though Will glanced at her enough to have started a conversation a dozen or more times. Her golden hair glowed in the sunlight, and she wore no bonnet or covering for her head. Her complexion was mild enough that she would have colored easily in the sun, and the current fashion for a lady was to stay white and smooth in all exposed skin.
Miss Perkins did not seem particularly perturbed about that.
Fascinating.
“Ought you not to have a bonnet, Miss Perkins?” Will asked with a smile. “Will Lady Ashby comment if your skin should tan?”
Miss Perkins smiled and lifted her eyes to his. “No doubt she would, though she also has said I am too pale. Today she is content to have me go without, and I am content to agree.” She tilted her head back, shut her eyes, and exhaled as beams of fortunate sunlight graced her cheeks. “Quite content indeed.”
So was he, but Will wasn’t going to express such things.
He also exhaled, in an attempt to regain his senses, and managed a polite smile to match hers. “I would think the relative solitude of the house at present would also add to your contentment.”
Miss Perkins’ eyes snapped open and latched onto his, wide with worry.
His polite smile became something far more mischievous. “Am I wrong?”
Her panic eased and she glanced back at Lady Ashby before replying, “No, you are not, but you mustn’t ever say so.”
“I would never,” he vowed, “though I have no qualms in admitting that I was more than content to call with that solitude in mind.”
Miss Perkins clamped down on her perfect lips hard. “You should not say such things, Mr. Debenham,” she murmured, though she smiled as she said it.
“I said nothing to offend anyone,” he pointed out. “Only an appreciation for the solitude.”
“Hmm.” Miss Perkins glanced at him, her smile more serene now. “I very much appreciate solitude myself. I find it often with Lady Ashby when it is the pair of us. We may read together, or she may listen to the music I play, and if we do not have engagements, I am permitted so much time to myself. Quite a leisurely thing, when I have completed my lessons.”
Will frowned at that, his hands clasping behind his back. “You’ve mentioned lessons before, Miss Perkins. What lessons are these? I understood from Sheffield that you had finished your education prior to your arrival.”
Miss Perkins released a sigh that seemed to carry a great deal in it. “So had I, to be sure. I understood that in order to be best suited for the society that Lady Ashby moves in, I would need additional refinement, but I had no idea that I must be retrained in dancing, elocution, and manners, for I apparently lack education in all of them, despite previous lessons.”
“I see no such lack of accomplishment,” Will protested, shocked that such a thing would even be considered of a woman of such grace and poise.
“You are kind,” came the soft reply. “But Miss Sheffield has assured Lady Ashby and myself that it is so. She has given me an education all her own. I had no idea that blues and greens and stripes and all pink shades were so ill suited to my color and complexion. Or that my fair hair was so very dull. Or that I am paler than death in certain lights.”
“I see nothing of the sort,” Will overrode in a less than gentlemanly tone, emphasizing each word with great care. “Truly, Miss Perkins, it is not so.”
She lifted a slender shoulder in a poor attempt at a careless shrug. “It makes no difference if it is or not. Lady Ashby values the opinion of her niece, and I, as her companion, am in no position to quarrel. I need her patronage in order to gain entry into society. What I wear and how my complexion and hair are fixed makes no difference to me.”
Will stared at her in amazement, both at the sentiment she had expressed and the torment that Miss Sheffield had subjected her to. And yet she had borne it all so well, it could hardly be satisfying for the inflictor, who would undoubtedly wish for some reaction.
Miss Perkins did not react.
“Is Miss Sheffield overly concerned with your role here?” Will prodded with as much gentleness as he could manage through the haze of his outrage.
Miss Perkins only nodded. “She is. I think if it were left to her, I would not have been taken on for her ladyship. She disapproves of my being sponsored in exchange. I have recently made the acquaintance of Mrs. and Miss Mayfield. Do you know them?”
“I do, only just.”
“Mrs. and Miss Mayfield came to call on me, as they had promised,” Miss Perkins went on, her voice as wistful as her gaze, and he dearly wished her gaze would have fallen on him to witness it. “But I was not permitted to see them.”
He jerked in shock. “What? When they had called on you?”
Again came the almost shrug. “Miss Sheffield had put it into Lady Ashby’s head that it would be inappropriate for a companion to receive guests and callers of such a station.” She finally looked at Will, smiling a touch wryly. “Thankfully, Mrs. Mayfield is a stubborn woman with spirit and she said she wished to see me because it was her understanding that I was being sponsored by Lady Ashby in exchange for companionship, and that I was not hired help at all, and how could I possibly hope to succeed in a season even with such a sponsor if I was not permitted to associate with those who could further my influence and standing?”
Will grinned outright, feeling laughter and pride bubble up within him. “How indeed? And have you seen them since?”
“Once,” she replied with a nod. “I have also seen my friends from school, but only when we are out.”
“Have they called here?” he asked, noting the air of longing he heard.
She shook her head. “No. I have not even told them I am at Ashby House, though they know my situation. I dare say I will see some of them next week at the Radcliffes for the ball.” She exhaled in an unreadable manner and looked up at him, apparently also content to change the subject. “Will you go?”
“I will,” he vowed, more than agreed. “And I would very much appreciate the first two dances, Miss Perkins, if it is not too bold.”
Her progress on the path stopped and she fixed her gaze on a flowering bush nearby. “You don’t mind dancing with Lady Ashby’s companion?”
Holding his breath, Will reached out and touched her elbow, bringing her dark, beguiling eyes to his. “I would like to dance with Miss Perkins,” he told her in a low tone, needing her to understand his meaning perfectly. “I don’t care whose companion she may or may not be. The first two, if you please.”
Her eyes searched his for a moment, and then, glory of glories, she smiled, the barest flash of white teeth escaping the precious cage of her lips. “That would please me very much, Mr. Debenham. The first two dances are yours.”
Chapter 8
The Radcliffe ball was just as grand an affair as one might imagine a ball hosted by a viscount and viscountess to be. Miss Sheffield, whose dislike of Caroline did not hinder her from seeing something useful in her, took control of Caroline’s wardrobe the moment she returned from the house party. None of the items of clothing aside from the casual everyday wear remained in her room.
Heaven forbid Caroline should steal away in the night and take the gowns with her.
At any rate, this evening she looked well enough. Miss Sheffield had ordered her dressed in a pale blue sprigged muslin that was nearly too tight, but the color was very fine. She had heard from Lady Ashby that with her figure so arrayed, and her hair laced with matching blue ribbon, her dark eyes seemed even more striking. But a pretty dress and almost pretty eyes did not make up for being a daughter of a tradesman, and there were several men, upon hearing her name, who would look at her, smile, and then turn away.
Miss Sheffield’s friends were not deterred from such, and, after seeing Lady Ashby comfortably to a chair near a window, at her request, they made a game of introducing Caroline to nearly everyone in attendance. All for the sake of finding her a potential husband that would meet their approval. None of them said anything about her approval, but it was apparently a small detail.
Despite it all, Caroline made some very good conversation with people that only months ago would have terrified her. Surprisingly, there were some kind and intelligent members of Society, though very few also possessed the sanity of ignoring the unfortunate circumstances of birth into a trade family. Time would only tell if the dancing for the evening would include the same sort of pattern. She had promised the first two dances to Mr. Debenham, though she had not seen him arrive as yet, though she would not hold him to it, should he wish to change his mind. Nor would she expect to dance any more than that this evening.
Music began and space opened up in the middle of the ballroom for couples.
The Beauty Page 8
