He ushered Elizabeth into an empty pew near the back. She cast him a glance as if wondering why he didn’t claim a spot closer to the altar, with the rest of the wealthier attendees. He could not tell her that he was simply grateful to be here.
And he could seek guidance from the back of the church just as well as the front.
Indeed, he heard little of the service. His thoughts carried heavenward, searching for insights. Thomas had been the oldest, the heir. He’d received all the tutoring in what it meant to be the viscount. On occasion, his father would attempt to interest Rob in family matters. His mother would always wave a hand.
“Stop pestering the boy, Peverell! Our Rob was meant for finer things.”
She’d hoped he might join the church. When it was obvious he was unsuited, she’d encouraged a commission in the army. Neither had appealed to Rob. The truth was, little had appealed to him. It was as if he had no purpose, no real place in the world.
You made me for something, Lord. It might not have been this, but this is what I must do now. I could use Your guidance.
The Lord didn’t see fit to speak to him. Neither did Elizabeth, until he helped her up into their carriage afterward.
“In such a hurry to leave?” she asked.
He took his seat across from her. “Do I appear to be running away? Dear me. I’ll have to try harder.”
She shook her head. “You needn’t have pelted. Mrs. Todd wasn’t there. I looked.”
He started. “Mrs. Todd likely attends St. Mary’s in Upper Grace.”
“Ah.” She settled into the seat. “Perhaps we can go there next week. It’s just as close to the Lodge by road.”
Worship would be even more challenging if Hester was nearby. “St. Andrew’s is visible from the Lodge. It makes more sense to go here.”
“As you wish.” She tugged down on the cuffs of her grey redingote. “We should make our presence known. We could visit the vicar, tour the spa.”
He nodded. “Whatever amuses you.”
Her mouth quirked. “Then let’s start by seeing the dame school in Upper Grace tomorrow.”
“What are you up to, Elizabeth?” he challenged.
Her eyes widened in the look their mother had always called too innocent by half. “Nothing! But if you can enliven a boring summer, I can enliven a boring winter. I’d like to see more of this Mrs. Todd.”
He should protest. Nothing good could come of it. Yet, he also wanted to see Hester again, if only to assure himself she fared well.
“As you wish,” he repeated and hoped he didn’t sound as eager as he felt.
Chapter Three
Hester was glad when Monday came around, in part because it was easy to slip into her routine and in part because she always felt a tingle of pride when she walked into the school.
Rosemary had envisioned the dame school and developed its curriculum to be the finest in Dorset. Mr. Jenkins, the rector at St. Mary’s, had been so impressed with Rosemary’s plan that he’d offered her the use of the old coach house behind the church. The church leaders approved the annual budget, which came largely through donations.
So many families had pitched in to clean and refurbish the space. Two of the fathers had built the wood floor, and several of the mothers now took turns seeing to its cleaning and polishing. Other parents had constructed benches, painted the walls a friendly blue, and mounted a chalkboard at one end. Mr. Howland, the magistrate in the area, had purchased primers for reading, and Hester had convinced the local merchants to provide slate boards and chalk for the children to use in copying out their letters and doing their sums.
Rosemary had started as teacher, with Hester assisting her, but some of the fathers had complained to the rector that a young, unmarried woman shouldn’t be teaching their sons. So, Hester had been promoted to teacher, and Mrs. Mance, who kept the rectory here as well as the vicarage in Grace-by-the-Sea, came up for part of the three days the school was in session to assist Hester.
They had fourteen students, counting Rebecca, ranging in age from six to twelve. The school ran all year, but, from spring to fall, Hester was never sure who would show up, as many of the children were needed by their families. Businesses in town must cater to spa visitors or those coming in for one of its events. Families farther out from Upper Grace tended crops or animals.
But now, with harvest over and the fair done, all her pupils crowded into the room to take their places on the benches. Sunlight coming through the only window along one wall anointed heads with hair slicked down and shoulders tight in worn cotton or rough-spun wool.
“Time to begin,” Hester announced from the top of the room.
Fourteen bodies wiggled into position, gazes bright. Hester clasped her hands in front of her, and they all mimicked her.
“Dear Lord,” she prayed, “bless us and our families today. Give us ears to hear and eyes to see the goodness of your world. May we be respectful and diligent in our work so that we may in turn be a blessing to others. Amen.”
“Amen.”
Heads popped up, hands fell. All but one.
Rebecca waved her little fingers over her head.
“Yes, Rebecca,” Hester said, trying not to smile.
“May we please read more about The History of Little Goody Two-Shoes?”
Hester had taken to reading to the children every day around the noon hour. They were very engaged at the moment in learning what would befall Miss Margery Meanwell and her brother Tommy as they sought to rise from being orphaned.
“Later,” Hester promised, “if everyone works very hard and finishes their work this morning.”
Rebecca dropped her hand and sighed, gaze darting to Jimmy Welton, who cringed even though he was three years older. Jimmy had a problem with paying sufficient attention. If anyone would be late in finishing, it would be him.
Hester started them on spelling, choosing simpler words for the less experienced students and challenging words for the more experienced. While Mrs. Mance listened to their spelling, white hair like the crown of a dandelion around her face, Hester set up a series of arithmetic problems on the board, again segregated by ability. The light darkened a moment, and she glanced up to see a carriage passing close to the building.
Jimmy must have seen it too, for he jumped from his bench and rushed to the window. “Who’s that?”
Two more of the older boys followed him to press their noses against the glass.
“Nobody from around here,” one of them claimed.
“Look at those horses,” the other marveled. “My brother would call them goers.”
Their exclamations had an effect on the girls as well. Hester turned as half the class strained to see out. Mrs. Mance even joined them, hands clutching her black skirts.
“That’s enough, students,” Hester said. “Whoever it is will most certainly not be coming to see us. Return to your benches.”
Slumping, with many backward glances, they did as she ordered. Mrs. Mance, however, clung to the window. Before Hester could get everyone focused again, the round little housekeeper hurried to her side.
“It’s Viscount Peverell,” she hissed.
Rob’s father, here?
She must have paled, for Mrs. Mance clutched her arm. “There, now, he’s not nearly as fearsome as his father, God rest his soul. And he could certainly use some kindness, after losing father, brother, and mother in that awful accident.”
She felt as if the schoolroom was spinning around her. “Are you saying Robert Peverell now has the title?”
Mrs. Mance nodded. “He and his sister were in church this Sunday. It was the saddest thing you ever saw, the way they sat at the rear as if they were penitents. The vicar has been trying to determine when it might be suitable to go up and comfort them, poor dears.”
So, that had been his sister at the ball. Pleasure she did not understand was quickly snuffed by sorrow. He’d lost nearly everyone in his family. As much as Rob had hurt her, she could not wish such a
tragedy on him.
“Perhaps he’s come to see the rector,” she ventured.
“Quite possibly,” Mrs. Mance agreed before aiming a frown into the schoolroom. “Ho, Jimmy. Back to your seat now.”
Jimmy skulked to the bench even as a knock sounded on the door.
Everyone froze. Hester could hear the tick of a beetle in the wall.
Mrs. Mance licked her lips. “Will you get that, or shall I?”
“Please,” Hester managed.
The housekeeper bustled forward, black skirts sweeping the floor. Hester hadn’t realized she was holding her breath until her chest began to ache.
“Good morning, my lord,” Mrs. Mance warbled. “Miss Peverell. How might we be of service?”
“We heard you’d opened a dame school since last we visited the area.”
That must be his sister. She had a clear, sweet voice that rang with conviction.
“We have indeed,” Mrs. Mance said, considerable chest swelling in pride. “Won’t you come in and view it?”
Hester took a step forward, as if she could will them out of her space. But of course, that would never work. Rob had ever done whatever pleased him most. Now he and his sister came into her school and made everything seem small.
At least he looked the gentleman today. Tall brown-leather boots and chamois breeches covered his long legs. A bottle-green coat covered his broad shoulders. Why, that top hat wasn’t even cocked at a rakish angle, as if he were a proper fellow with a serious nature.
He didn’t fool her for a moment.
This time, though, she noticed the touches of mourning. He wore a black armband on the left, and his sister’s redingote was a steely grey, as were the skirts peeking out below. Half-mourning, then. Their parents must have been gone three months or more.
Mrs. Mance hurried to join Hester at the front of the room. “This is Mrs. Todd, our teacher,” she told their guests. “Hester, dear, allow me to introduce Lord Peverell and his sister.”
Hester dropped a curtsey, as propriety demanded, her navy skirts pooling. “My lord, Miss Peverell.”
“Mrs. Todd.” He held himself back, as if he thought she might break if he approached her.
She might at that.
She turned to her class, all of whom were staring at the pair. “Children, how do we welcome visitors?”
“Good day, Lord Peverell, Miss Peverell,” they recited in unison.
She drew in a breath. She could do this.
“Have you come to be our father?” a little voice piped up, brimming with hope.
Hester stared at her darling daughter, looking so yearningly at Rob, and all breath fled.
~~~
Rob found it difficult to focus on the angelic looking little girl dressed in soft blue when Hester stood close enough to touch. The severe lines of the navy wool gown did nothing to hide her curves or the pulse beating at the curve of her neck. He kept his hands at his sides and a smile on his face.
“I fear I don’t have that honor, young lady,” he said. “But perhaps you could help me understand more about your school.”
“She has all the luck,” someone muttered, but the little one wove her way to his side and stood looking up at him, eyes huge in her creamy face. In fact, she reminded him a bit of Elizabeth when she’d been that age—five, six?
“May I help him, Mama?” she asked, gaze going to Hester.
Mama?
His Gwen had a child.
He felt as if the floor had tilted, pushing him toward the door as if to evict him from her presence. He wasn’t aware he’d stepped back until Elizabeth clutched his arm and frowned at him.
“We should all help him, Rebecca,” Hester said with a smile to her daughter that set his breath to hitching. “We’ll take turns showing Miss Peverell and her brother what we learn here at the Upper Grace Dame School.”
Dame school. Never had the appellation been less fitting. Most dames were aged ladies who taught rudimentary skills from their drawing rooms. As the children lined up in front of him and Elizabeth, it quickly became clear that they had learned far more.
And Hester was hardly a dame.
The care she took of her charges was evident by the way she put a hand on a shoulder to protect, nodded with a smile to encourage. The other lady, who he remembered as Mrs. Mance, the vicar’s housekeeper, brought chairs for him and Elizabeth to sit, like the honored guests they were, and then she and Hester took turns ushering groups of children to face them.
One set of two older girls and a lad showed how well they spelled.
“Perspicacious,” the blonde said, shifting back and forth in her worn smock. “P-e-r-s-p-i-c-a-c-i-o-u-s.”
Elizabeth applauded her, which set her to beaming.
Rob was more pleased with the warm smile that curved Hester’s pretty lips. It took little to remember the sweet pressure of those lips against his. He kept his face neutral as another group of three girls began reciting Wordsworth in unison.
“In thoughtless gaiety I coursed the plain,
And hope itself was all I knew of pain.
For then, the inexperienced heart would beat
At times, while young Content forsook her seat,
And wild Impatience, pointing upward, showed
Through passes yet unreached, a brighter road.”
He could not stop himself from glancing at Hester, who avoided his gaze. Thoughtless gaiety? Impatience leading the way? Had she been thinking of him when she’d taught them this?
And wasn’t that his usual arrogant thinking?
He made himself smile and nod as they finished the portion of the long poem, then curtsied to him.
The three boys in the third group took turns reading from a primer. All too easy for his gaze to wander back to Hester again. Her eyes were on her students, her mouth silently forming the words as if she could will the boys to sound them out. Her students must dote on her.
He found it difficult not to dote on her.
Finally her daughter, Rebecca, and two of the littlest girls stepped forward to count.
“I can count to twenty,” Rebecca announced, twisting from side to side in her pretty blue frock. “One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, fourteen…”
“You forgot thirteen,” one of the others whispered, giving her a nudge with her elbow.
Rebecca scowled at her. “No, I didn’t. I don’t like thirteen.”
“I’m not overly fond of it myself,” Rob told her, while Elizabeth hid a smile.
“Numbers,” Hester put in, “are not for us to like or dislike. There is an order to them, and thirteen has a place. Start at thirteen, Rebecca.”
Her daughter heaved a mighty sigh. “Thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, nineteen, twenty.”
“Excellent work,” Rob assured her.
He was so captivated by the way Hester glowed at her daughter’s accomplishment that he wasn’t certain what the last group demonstrated. He made sure to smile and thank them for their efforts, nonetheless.
“You have all worked hard on your lessons, I see,” Elizabeth told them. “Such diligence deserves reward. What would you suggest, Mrs. Todd?”
Hester dropped her gaze. “I’m sure I couldn’t say, Miss Peverell.”
“I could,” Mrs. Mance declared. “Winter’s coming on. We’ve never had a proper hearth. Sometimes we have to cancel classes for weeks because of the chill.”
“Well, that’s terrible,” Elizabeth commiserated. “Don’t you think that’s terrible, Brother?”
About as terrible as Hester having to raise a child alone. His parents had had nurserymaids, nannies, and tutors for him and Thomas, and a governess for Elizabeth.
“An utter shame,” he said. “Would a thousand pounds resolve the matter, Mrs. Todd?”
Her head snapped up, and her gasp was audible. Her gaze met his, incredulous, grateful.
Wary.
“That is too kind, my lord,” she
said. “I’m sure it could be accomplished in less than half that.”
“But we can use the money for other things,” Mrs. Mance hurried to put in. “And thank you so much for your generous donation, my lord.”
He inclined his head, but his gaze remained on Hester. Her look challenged him, as if she could see the true motivation behind his gift.
Which was ridiculous. He wasn’t even sure why he’d offered such a sum.
Elizabeth rose and shook out her skirts. “Thank you all for your warm welcome. I’m sure we’ll visit again sometime before we return to London.”
Hester directed her gaze at his sister now, and the look was far softer, kinder. For some reason, his chest felt tight.
“Then you don’t intend to make the Lodge your home, Miss Peverell?” she asked politely.
“Only through the winter,” his sister explained. “But until then, we will have many opportunities to meet. At services, at the assembly, at the spa.” She smiled charmingly.
“I regret I’ll likely be teaching, but I wish you well,” Hester said, smile equally charming but with an edge of determination he could only applaud.
The children stood at attention while Mrs. Mance closed the door behind him and his sister. His last glance of Hester was of her gazing after him, brow puckered as if she simply couldn’t understand him.
He knew the feeling.
“A thousand pounds?” Elizabeth asked, picking up her skirts to head for the waiting coach.
“What did you expect?” Rob returned, going to open the door for her. “You asked to tour the school. Some token of appreciation would generally be expected.”
“A token,” she said as he handed her into the coach. “Not my quarterly allowance.”
“I will not pick your pocket,” he promised as he followed her in. “We have plenty for such things.”
The Lady's Second-Chance Suitor Page 3
