by Abby Ayles
Though she still wore her cotton cap she had stopped wearing the spectacles that covered most of her face. When Mr. McCarthy’s eyes met hers, she couldn’t help but look away shyly.
The effect of her rosy cheeks with sweet dimples and her dark blue eyes enhanced by the light coming through the window seat she sat in was most intoxicating.
“I won’t hear of it, Matty,” Grannie said, “You come and ‘ave a seat. Lady Rebecca here can pour you a nice cup of tea. Of course, that is if her dolly will take the company.”
“Miss Jacobson would be much obliged for it,” Grannie continued, looking at Hannah.
“Yes,” Hannah stammered out on cue, “do come and join us. The lesson is over so you won’t be disturbing a thing.”
She had spoken her words only half-heartedly. She couldn’t say otherwise; it would be far too rude. However, taking tea with a man that she had promised the earl she would not see was pressing on her conscience.
Mr. McCarthy was all smiles when he heard Hannah’s encouragement and came fully into the room and set down the burlap bag in his hands.
“Are those potatoes for me?” Grannie asked.
“Yes,” he said, though his attention was wholly elsewhere.
“I’ll just take ‘em in the kitchen then,” Grannie said, starting to lift the large sack of vegetables. To Hannah’s surprise, Mr. McCarthy didn’t offer to help.
“Nonsense, Grannie,” she said, quickly coming to her feet. “That is far too heavy for you. Let me take it,” Hannah added, picking up the sack without so much as a glance at Mr. McCarthy.
She didn’t care if it was her or him that left the room but one of them needed to. Every second she sat in his presence she feared the earl finding out and what reprimand would come of it.
Chapter 12
Hannah had feared one of the girls letting slip that they were at Grannie’s house that day, or worse that there had also been an added guest. After the first supper with no incident, she became more relieved.
The girls had kept true to silencing their tongue on the matter until they finished their watercolor portrait. It meant time was running out for Hannah to assure the earl that she was quite capable of going to town and being trustworthy to boot.
She also feared that with such proximity to Mr. McCarthy’s appearance that when the time did come, Lady Rebecca would mention such a fact. The earl would never trust her if that was to happen.
She felt, other than the weight of her secret kept from him, that things with the earl were on good terms. She kept to herself in her free time and he was often preoccupied with his work in the west wing. The only time they saw each other was at dinner and Sunday services.
Luckily it was easy to keep both girls talking through the meal so that not much passed between her and the earl. She didn’t fear him like she did that first morning in the solicitor’s office, nor did she quite feel comfortable enough to speak to him if it could be helped.
Overall, she felt that she had found a good working relationship with Lord Grimshaw. She was relieved at this fact and hoped it meant that this could be steady employment for her, unlike the last.
Of course, the wild card in that hope was Mr. Poole. Though he had made his presence known from time to time, for the most part she saw little of him. Often it would only be in passing or serving at meals and that didn’t allow him many opportunities to harass her.
She was sure if she kept away from him, he would soon bore of her. After all, men seemed to enjoy the chase far more than her. If there was no chase for him, she was sure he would give up the hunt altogether.
It was on a warm summer afternoon that Hannah found herself out in the garden endeavoring to teach the girls the game of Battledore and Shuttlecock.
Each girl would take a turn playing with Hannah as they held their small battledore rackets and did their best to hit the cork and feather shuttlecock back and forth without letting it fall.
After several rotations, between the heat of the sun and the running to hit a misaimed shuttlecock, Hannah was rosy in the cheeks.
She was sure that no one else was around when she relieved herself of her bonnet and cap. She could feel her locks falling from their tight-pinned bun but she didn’t care much because of the fun she was having.
“Oh, my dears,” Hannah said after a good round with Lady Caroline in which each lady was able to hit the shuttlecock four times, “I believe I need a rest. Why don’t you two practice together.”
The girls were happy to oblige and quickly went to hit the shuttlecock back and forth while Hannah went to rest under the shade of a large tree.
Removing her fichu, she dabbed at the perspiration that had collected around her hairline. She attempted to re-pin offending golden locks but it was of no use, so she just let all the pins out altogether.
A soft gentle breeze was blowing from time to time and it felt good to let it flow through her hair and cool the dampness on her neck.
Sitting in the grass under the tree she closed her eyes and listened to the joyous sound of the girls playing. It was not one she had heard in her own childhood and she rather relished it.
She reached for a book that she had left with a basket of afternoon snacks and a blanket. Leaning against the trunk of the tree, Hannah settled into reading some while the girls continued to enjoy the warmth of the sun and the game.
Lord Grimshaw had been hard at work at the west wing, working on the last of the exterior walls before moving to the roof.
It was back-breaking work and slow at that as each stone had to be fitted and placed. He hated to admit it was what he loved about it so much.
Sorely he had wished that he had completed the promised task before his wife’s death, but one always thinks there is enough time until it is all gone.
He was only momentarily distracted by the sound of the girls in the garden. From his perch on the scaffolding, he could see their figures exiting the house into the back garden where Miss Jacobson proceeded to teach them a game.
He smiled to himself as he listened to the sound of the three of them laughing between the whooshes of the rackets.
Sebastian Grimshaw finished his afternoon pleasantly entertained by the sounds of their fun, as well as moments of secret study of their fun. Their happiness was infectious and he caught it all the way up on his high perch of the house.
“Miss Jacobson, Caroline won’t let me have a turn starting,” Grimshaw heard his youngest daughter whine.
They had been outside for several hours now and he suspected she was getting tired and cranky.
“Come let us all take a break for a while,” he heard Miss Jacobson’s reply. “I have some currant rolls from the kitchen and I will read to you some.”
Grimshaw turned from his wall and the sight before him caught his breath. There, coming from under the shade of the tree was a Greek Goddess. She walked slowly to the edge of the foliage and laid out a blanket where the girls happily sat and selected items from a basket she had wisely brought.
Miss Jacobson took her own spot, letting her gown settle around her. Her golden hair was like flowing honey as it ran down her back, and with delicacy, she opened her book and began to read.
Her voice was too soft to make out all the words but the picture before him was one he wasn’t sure he was ready to see.
There on the blanket sat Caroline as she picked and tied some wildflowers while Rebecca lay on her back looking to passing clouds. Miss Jacobson read in her animated way, sometimes even moving her free arm as she spoke the lines. It was a perfect picture of a family. It filled him with such joy and pained his heart all at the same time.
***
“There you are,” Abigail’s voice called, catching all three girls’ attention.
“It is almost supper time. You must come in and change,” she added.
“Oh, you’re right,” Hannah said, seeing the time on her watch. “Forgive me for keeping them so long. We got distracted making little forget-me-not crowns.�
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Both girls held up their handiwork to their nurse before placing them on their own heads.
“I think mine is the best,” Caroline said.
“That’s not true. Mine is just as good, isn’t it, Abigail?”
Abigail looked to Hannah for help in this argument. Hannah simply shrugged that she would have no say in the matter.
Abigail assured Rebecca that they both had lovely crowns before shooing them into the house with a wave goodbye to their governess.
Hannah went to work shaking the crumbs off of the blanket, as well as any leftover discarded flowers, and folding it up to take inside. She would have to freshen up too and make ready for dinner.
She was humming softly to herself thinking on how perfect a day it had been as she came around a bend in the house. A gruff hand grabbed her by the arm and whipped her sharply around the corner and up against the cold stone wall.
The shock alone took her breath away and made her drop her belongings.
“You wicked vixen,” Mr. Poole’s voice said in a low growl.
“Mr. Poole,” Hannah’s words came out more in a breath. “What is the meaning of this? Remove your hands from me at once!”
He was gripping both of her arms now and pinning her against the wall with no chance of escape.
“You are quite the temptress,” he growled again, ignoring her struggles.
“I have no idea what you are talking about, Mr. Poole,” Hannah shot back with as much anger as she could muster through the fear.
He let go of one arm and with his hand grabbed a lock of golden hair, twisting it between his fingers. He held it up to his nose and breathed in deeply.
“I guessed you were a blonde,” he said, leaning in close to her. “But such fine silken hair like this,” he brushed her lock of hair all along his chin and lips. “I see now why you hid it. It could drive a man wild.”
Hannah closed her eyes and turned her head as his hot breath came down on her throat. She could feel the heat of his body nearly touching her, and smelled a distinct sour smell to his breath.
“I swear to you I will scream,” she said when he laid a brazen kiss on her neck.
He didn’t answer, simply produced a small knife. She opened her mouth in shock but he must have thought she was going to scream because he clamped a hand down on it. Through her wide blue eyes, she watched the glint of the sun reflect off the metal as he held it up to her face.
“I wouldn’t scream if I were you,” he said finally, letting her mouth go.
She obediently didn’t speak. Hannah didn’t even move, how could she with fear paralyzing her to the spot.
He lifted up her lock again and this time cut the very last two inches of it off. He held his treasure up to his nose and smelled it again.
“To remember you by when it’s all over,” he said with a wicked grin.
Tears were flowing down Hannah’s cheeks now.
“Please,” she pleaded. “Please just leave me alone.”
He put a hand to her throat and squeezed.
“If you wanted to be left alone you should not have been so bewitching.”
“I have done nothing,” she whispered against his tightening hand. “I have encouraged you in no way. Please let me go.”
He seemed to think this over for a minute, hand still tight on her throat. Then he smiled wickedly and she knew that he was going to do whatever he wanted.
She struggled to scream against his grip when the sound of an approaching whistle froze him in his tracks.
He stepped back just as a gardener came around the corner. He started for a minute to see the two in such a dark and hidden alcove.
“Everything alright, Miss?” he asked, seeing the tears on Hannah’s cheeks.
“We are fine. Do you need something, Fredricks?” Mr. Poole said impatiently.
“Shouldn’t you be inside getting ready for dinner, David?” the older gentleman retorted back.
David looked from the gardener back to Hannah. With a dissatisfied scoff, he left without another word.
The gardener walked over and helped Hannah pick up her belonging. It took all her strength not to crumple in a ball on the ground.
“Are you alright, truly?” the man asked.
All Hannah could do was nod her head yes. She was certain if words came out, she would altogether break down.
“He can be a rake when he drinks too much, but overall he is a good worker. Just try and stay away from him,” the man said.
She simply nodded in disbelief again before collecting herself and hurrying into the house and straight to her room.
***
Grimshaw stood on the scaffolding clenching and unclenching his fists. Had he not seen it with his own eyes he might not have believed it.
But as soon as Abigail picked up his girls and took them inside, he watched Miss Jacobson slip into a small alcove. He wondered why she had done such a silly thing until he saw his footman exit the same spot.
He couldn’t believe that to his face she had put on such a show of abiding by his requests yet in his own house she was flaunting his authority.
Grimshaw hated himself for the things he had thought of her as he watched her and the girls on the blanket for the last half hour. She had looked so loving and kind to them and he had actually thought perhaps…but no. She was a deceiver just like the other one.
It was clear that like Miss Watts no matter what Miss Jacobson said, she had one goal while she was here and that had nothing to do with teaching his children.
Chapter 13
Hannah did her best to regain her composure as she changed in the silence of her own room. It was not an easy task.
Though her hands were still shaking, she changed her gown to one suitable for the evening meal and re-pinned her hair.
Hannah did her best to ignore the lock that was now two inches shorter than the rest. In her mind, if she pretended the whole event didn’t happen, then perhaps she wouldn’t crumble to pieces.
With a tight tug, she replaced her linen cap, sure that she would never take it off again no matter the weather.
She had forgotten herself this afternoon. In the sunshine and enjoyment of the girls’ company, she had entirely lost herself in the joy.
“It won’t happen again, Jacobson,” she said with determination to the reflection in the mirror.
It was hard to hide the red rims of her eyes, or the bruise already starting on her neck from where Mr. Poole had held her so tight.
Even as she spoke to herself in the mirror, she could hear the hoarseness of her voice from his mistreatment. Perhaps a warm cup of tea would soothe her vocal cords, but until one could be procured, she would have to keep her speech even more to a minimum.
Luckily as she went to procure the girls from their nurse both were still in high spirits and chatty over their game this afternoon. Hannah struggled to share in their happiness as she had not that long ago.
It felt like years since she had sat under the tree reading or batted the shuttlecock back and forth with the girls. Finding her way out of the fog of fear and destitution seemed impossible.
At dinner, Hannah was happy to see that the earl was just as quiet of speech. Instead, the dining room was filled with little girls’ voices each telling the day in turn.
Hannah didn’t have much appetite. As the night wore on the pain at her neck seemed to grow. With every swallow of her food or beverage, her throat burned with the pain.
“Miss Jacobson?” Lady Caroline’s voice woke her from her struggles to eat.
“I’m sorry, dear, what was that?” Hannah struggled to say smoothly.
“I thought you might want to tell Father about the forget-me-not competition.”
Hannah looked up at the earl. It was the first time she had really looked at him tonight. He seemed much more gruff than usual.
He tore at his meat with his knife and scowled severely despite his daughters’ happy chatter.
“Oh, why don’t you do
it, dear,” Hannah said, fighting against the burn in her throat. “I don’t think I could quite do it justice.”
“Yes,” Grimshaw said, speaking for the first time, “I expect Miss Jacobson is most exhausted from her excursions today. I dare say she looks like she is plum worn out.”
Though his words were kind enough Hannah was sure there was more to the meaning than he was letting on. He glared at her in a most fierce way that she couldn’t understand.
