by Marie Force
“Mr. Nelson, if I waited around for a man to catch me, I’d never get anything accomplished.”
Magnificent. Especially when her color was up like it was now, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment and pique. “Why’re you staring at me that way?”
“Because I find you quite pleasing to look at, especially when you’re annoyed with me.”
“Then I must be pleasing to look at most of the time.”
Laughing, Aubrey fell back on his elbows, wishing they had nothing better to do but take a picnic down to the shore and enjoy the warm spring sunshine. Alas, there was no time for such frivolity on this day, but he vowed to invite her on a picnic as soon as possible.
She rose to her feet and tugged off the cotton gloves she wore while working. “I thought you’d gone to town yesterday to hire more help.”
“I did. I’ve put out the word to anyone seeking work, asking them to report to the servants’ entrance.”
“Good lord. How are we to know if we should hire the people who come to the door?”
“If they have two working arms and two working legs, they’re hired.”
“That’s hardly the standard we should apply to hiring staff for a home as grand as this.”
“It’s the only standard we have as we’re desperate.”
Maeve chewed on her thumbnail, something she seemed to do when anxious.
“It’ll all be fine. I’m sure of it.”
She gave him a withering look. “You have no way to know that.”
“I can see that the pressure is starting to get to you. Let’s take a break and have a picnic at the shore.” Why put off until later that which could be done today?
She stared at him as if he had two—or maybe three—heads. “I don’t have time for a picnic at the shore nor should I be doing such things with you.”
“I’m your employer, and I’m offering you the free time as well as the pleasure of my company if you would do me the honor of granting me the pleasure of yours.”
She wanted to. He could see that as plainly as the button nose on her face.
“I’m afraid I must insist that you take a well-deserved break so you don’t fall ill from the strain of the monumental task before it’s completed in the short time we have left.”
“That makes no sense. You admit the task is monumental and the time is short, but you think I ought to take time away from work. Are you completely daft?”
He was beginning to think so, for watching her rage made him happy to be alive at that moment in time. It made him happy for the twists of fate that had brought him to Newport early, even if he wasn’t happy about his father’s illness.
“Mr. Nelson? Whatever are you staring at?”
Her face flushed with color that almost hid the light dusting of freckles across the bridge of her nose. Was it possible to love someone’s nose? If so, he loved hers. “Yes, a picnic would be just the thing. I’ll get with Mrs. Allston and meet you on the back veranda in thirty minutes. Don’t be late.”
* * *
He was gone before Maeve could push a protest past the shock of his invitation or order or whatever it was. The man was clearly insane if he thought nothing of inviting his housekeeper on a picnic by the shore. Who did that? And why had her heart soared with nostalgia for how her life had been before it all went so very wrong?
She was no longer a woman who had time for picnics or other things that wasted valuable time that could be spent working to survive. But her employer had given her a directive, so how could she disregard that directive? She could choose not to show up at the appointed meeting place, but he would find her—that much she knew for certain. He was nothing if not persistent.
Resigned to attending his ridiculous picnic, Maeve stomped up the backstairs to her third-floor room to retrieve a hat and gloves to protect her fair skin from the sun, still in a pique from Mr. Nelson’s foolishness. The spiderwebs hanging from the chandeliers weren’t going to clean themselves, and that was one of a hundred tasks that needed to be completed before his mother arrived a week from Friday.
If they worked day and night between now and then, they’d barely get it done, and he wanted to have a picnic?
She would give his silly picnic a few minutes of her valuable time, but only because she needed to eat. Other than the spiderwebs, the ballroom was taking shape. She would move on next to the family’s sitting room, where they would spend most of their time when in residence. Thinking about her plan of attack made her feel better about taking even a brief break from her duties as she went back downstairs to the veranda.
Stepping out into the warm, sunny day, her heart gave a happy jolt at the fragrant scent of the air, the sound of the sea crashing against the rocks below and the dazzling sight of the trees in full bloom. How long had it been since she was outdoors? She had arrived to a nightmare seven days ago and had been working ever since, having hardly made a dent, and hadn’t been out of doors except the night before for the bonfire.
Mr. Nelson stood on the path that led to the shore, wicker picnic basket in hand and a plaid blanket tossed casually over his arm as if he had all the time in the world to while away with her.
A feeling of unease crept up her back. Were the cook and butler watching her leave with him and coming to their own conclusions about what kind of woman she was? That would never do. “Mr. Nelson, I’m unable to accompany you, but I do hope you enjoy your picnic.”
His handsome face fell with disappointment that made her feel badly for being so disagreeable when he’d tried to do something nice for her. “Mrs. Allston packed the basket full after I told her I was taking you for a much-needed outing after days of hard work.”
Maeve stared at him, stunned and furious. “You told her you were taking me on a picnic?”
“Yes, of course I did. How else was I to get her to pack enough for two?”
“What she must think!”
“She thought it was a capital idea as you haven’t been out of the house in all the days since you arrived.”
“She . . . she said that?”
“She did indeed. Feel free to go ask her yourself if you don’t believe me. I’ll wait for you.”
Torn between wanting to know the cook approved and not wanting to appear to disbelieve him, she glanced at the house and then back at him, finding him waiting expectantly for her to make up her mind. “That won’t be necessary.” She’d find out soon enough if the cook thought less of her for accompanying Mr. Nelson on his picnic.
“Let us be off then.” He extended his arm.
Maeve shook her head.
His arm fell to his side, and he began to walk along the well-worn path that led to the shore, glancing back to make sure she was following.
She linked her fingers and walked with her head down, determined to get through this as quickly as possible so she could return to where she was supposed to be. The time when she could run away for a picnic in the middle of the day with a handsome man was long behind her. Now her days were about work, work and more work. That was a small price to pay for the freedom and safety she’d found in America, and not even the charming Mr. Nelson could make her forget about how far she’d traveled to find a new life. She would do nothing to jeopardize that precious new life.
Mr. Nelson insisted on taking her hand to help her down the flight of stairs that delivered them onto the sandy beach.
Maeve tried not to overreact to his courtesy. He was doing for her what he’d do for any woman.
“This looks like a nice spot.” Releasing her hand, he spread the blanket on the sand and placed the basket on one of the corners. “I don’t know about you, but I could eat a horse. Let’s see what Mrs. Allston prepared for us.” He unloaded containers wrapped in cloth towels she recognized from the kitchen. “Fried chicken, potato salad, fruit salad, bread, cheese and cake.”
Maeve’s mouth watered. She’d had breakfast before dawn and had been busy ever since. The smell of the fried chicken had her taking the seat he offered her on the b
lanket and accepting the plate he prepared for her.
“This is wrong.”
“What’s wrong?”
“You waiting on me. It should be the other way around.”
“Says who?”
She gave him a withering look. “I’m employed by your family. I should be tending to you.”
“For this short interlude, can we not be employer and employee but rather two friends enjoying a lovely day with a delicious lunch and this incredible view of the ocean?”
“Two friends? You’re indeed daft if you think that is what we are.”
“Miss Brown, are we not two human beings who both need to eat around this time of day and who have earned a break from the drudgery of cleaning cobwebs from chandeliers?”
“We are two human beings. I’ll give you that.”
He flashed a grin at her, as if he was enjoying her commentary. “Eat your lunch.”
She took a delicate bite from the chicken leg.
Mr. Nelson got comfortable on the blanket and devoured two legs in the time it took her to eat most of one. “Where’re you from in Ireland?”
“Dingle, a tiny fishing village on the west coast.”
“What’s it like there?”
“A lot like Newport, actually. That’s why I wanted to come here. It reminds me of home.”
“Do your sisters still live there?”
Nodding, she looked down at her plate where most of the food he’d served her remained.
“Are they married?”
“Two are. The other is still in school.”
“Nieces? Nephews?”
“Two adorable nephews. Jack and Hughie. They’re three and four with another baby on the way.” Would she ever know if she’d had a niece or nephew? The possibility that she might never know pained her.
“Do you write to them?”
With her lips tightly set, she shook her head.
“Do you have photos of your family?”
“I have one.”
“May I see it sometime?”
She gave him her “you must be daft” look. “Why would you want to see it?”
“Because they’re special to you, and as I mentioned before, I’d like to know you better.”
“Why?”
He released a deep sigh. “I wish I knew the answer to that, but all I can tell you is from the time I first met you, I wanted to know you.”
“Mr. Nelson, please forgive me for being rude, but I’m not sure what kind of game it is you’re playing. A man of your means and stature could have his pick of the debutantes in New York or London. Surely you’re not unable to attract the interest of someone from your own world.”
He flashed a delighted grin. “Indeed, you’re right. They quite like me.”
“Then what is the problem?”
“I don’t like them, not enough anyway. They’re often silly and sometimes desperate and shockingly forward at times. They have no substance to them.”
“You just haven’t met the right one yet. I’m sure you’ll have the opportunity to meet many lovely young ladies this summer.”
“It’ll just be more of the same.”
“If you think that way, you’ll never find anyone.”
“I want someone like you, someone with fire and passion and the ability to handle whatever life throws at you with grace and aplomb.”
She stared at him in disbelief. “That is not me. I’m none of those things.”
“You are all of those things. I saw those qualities in you from the very beginning when I walked into a calamity to find you trying to fix it all by yourself. The women I’ve met in New York and London ballrooms would’ve sooner set the place on fire before they would’ve tried to fix it.”
“You barely know me.” Her words were hardly a whisper. “I certainly don’t know you.”
“I would tell you anything you wanted to know.”
“Mr. Nelson—”
“Aubrey.”
“Mr. Nelson, I appreciate that you think you see something special in me. That’s the nicest compliment I’ve received in a very long time. However, if you continue to pursue the ridiculous notion that we will ever be more than employer and employee, then I shall be forced to seek employment elsewhere.”
“Please don’t do that. I would never do anything to endanger you or your position.”
“You already have by inviting me on a picnic at the shore. Imagine the conversation Mr. Plumber is having with Mrs. Allston as they enjoy their midday meal in the servants’ dining room, which is where I should be.”
“I apologize. I only wanted to give you the opportunity to enjoy some fresh air and for us to have the chance to get to know each other better.” He began to pack up the picnic and seemed shocked when her hand on his arm stopped him.
“The damage is done at this point. I suppose it won’t do any further harm to finish our meal. I believe you said Mrs. Allston sent cake?”
She watched him try to hide his shock—and delight. “That she did.” He served her a large piece of the coconut cake with the rich vanilla icing and then cut a piece for himself. “This is the most delicious thing I’ve eaten since I left home. Perhaps there could be an advantage to having a ‘friend’ with connections in the kitchen.”
“Have you a sweet tooth, Ms. Brown?”
“A terrible, awful sweet tooth that’s going to be the very death of me.”
When she finished her cake, he cut her another smaller piece and put it on her plate so quickly she never saw it coming.
“I couldn’t possibly! I’ll burst.”
“Have it so it doesn’t go to waste.”
“That would be a terrible shame.”
He smiled widely at her. “Indeed, it would.”
As she took delicate bites of the cake, clearly trying to make it last, she felt him watching her.
“I can’t help but notice that you have the bearing of a well-educated, upper-class woman.”
She swallowed her bite and blotted her lips with a napkin. “I’m well educated. My father is a banker and ensured that we were properly raised.”
“Then how did you end up a housekeeper in Newport?”
His question brought her right back to reality. “That’s a story for another day, Mr. Nelson.”
“I’d love to hear that story—and any others you’d like to tell me. Despite our different stations, Miss Brown, I think you’d find that if given the opportunity, I could be a very good friend to have.”
Chapter Five
He flummoxed her, and Maeve hated that. The last man who had flummoxed her had ruined her once beautiful life, and she needed to remember that as she sat across from the charming, handsome Mr. Nelson, who seemed nothing at all like the man she’d known at home. But he’d been wonderful at first, too.
No, she couldn’t be wooed by a picnic at the shore or sweet cakes or kind words. She had left the past behind and had only herself to depend upon now, and she could not—and would not—do anything to endanger her position. The only reason she’d landed the position in the first place was because no one else wanted to work for the dragon lady, as they called Mrs. Nelson in servant circles.
Mr. Nelson had promised to run interference for her with his mother, but she would believe that when she saw it. His first loyalty would always be to his family over a lowly housekeeper.
She blotted her lips with the creamy linen napkin and then folded it, brushed the crumbs off her skirt and stood. “I must get back to work.”
“But you haven’t even taken an hour for yourself.”
“I’m not paid to take time for myself in the midst of a workday, Mr. Nelson.”
“Aubrey. You can call me Aubrey.”
“I prefer to call you Mr. Nelson.”
He sighed deeply as he seemed to realize his picnic hadn’t changed anything between them. He was still her employer and she a member of the household staff.
“Thank you for the picnic. I enjoyed it very much.” With that, she l
eft him and headed up the stairs and back along the path they had taken. It would take some time for him to clean up, so she anticipated a clean getaway. Pounding footsteps behind her disabused her of that notion. Maeve kept her head down and continued to walk briskly toward the house.
“Miss Brown! Wait. Please wait.”
She shouldn’t stop. She knew it, but stopped anyway, turning to face him. “Yes, Mr. Nelson?”
“I wanted to share something with you. Something personal that I haven’t spoken of in years.”
Tell him it’s not appropriate for him to share personal things with you. Walk away. Though her inner voice urged the opposite, she stayed put, intrigued and curious despite the many reasons she shouldn’t be.
“I was to be married.” He cleared his throat. “Her name was Annabelle, and we were best friends from childhood. We wrote to each other while I was in school at Choate and then at Yale, and during the Christmas break of my final year of school, I asked her to marry me. The wedding was planned for spring. It would’ve been ten years today, in fact.”
Maeve gasped when she realized the import of the date. She didn’t want to be interested but was nonetheless. “Wh-what happened?”
“Four days before the wedding, she went to sleep with a headache and never woke up. The doctor said it was a vessel in her brain that had probably always been defunct.”
“I’m so sorry, Mr. Nelson.” Her heart broke for him and the grief that was readily apparent, now that she looked more closely, even after all this time.
“Thank you.” He looked down before again bringing his gaze up to meet hers. “I haven’t spoken of her in many years. Not even to my dear friends in London.”
The significance of his statement wasn’t lost on Maeve. He’d told her but not his close friends. “Why did you tell me this?”
He took hold of her hand.
She let him.
“Because when you have been through something so painful, you recognize that pain when you see it in others. I see it in you. And I want you to know that if you need someone to share it with, I’m here, and I understand.”
Maeve could only stare at him. If he had stripped her bare, she couldn’t have felt more seen. Sometimes she felt that no one ever saw her. They usually looked right through her. Mr. Nelson, this man she had only just met, saw the very heart of her, and she simply couldn’t have that. She pulled her hand free, turned and walked away, keeping her head down and her eyes peeled for hazards along the path.
