by Allison West
Why had he not returned?
Eliza found it difficult to express what she felt, the sense of longing to see him again, the tugging of her heart at missing him. She had played in the playroom with her friends but had not shared the details of her tryst with any of the girls. Could they tell she was anxious for him to pay her a visit? Perhaps she had done a poor job of pleasuring him. She had not thought she had done anything wrong, but she could not know without a doubt. His lack of appearance at the Ashby worried her.
Eliza was unsure how her nanny would respond to what had transpired between them. Nanny Agnes had found her charge naked on Sunday morning when she came to awaken little Eliza. She had thoroughly examined the bedsheets again before her shoulders relaxed. What had she been looking for?
Eliza had been frightened that she might be forced to visit with Doctor Colt a third time for another unpleasant examination, but her nanny had not taken her to his office. Eliza certainly was not going to fill her nanny with any unfavorable thoughts.
The brunette stared out the window, her gaze on the garden, wanting a stroll outside more than anything. She missed the sun, the warmer months of spring and summer. Inside Ashby it was nice, the place being as beautiful as one could create, but she still lacked the freedom of exploring outdoors, the fresh scent of grass being cut and birds chirping as the wind caressed her cheek.
"Do you think I might be able to take a walk outside today?" Eliza asked her nanny. The headmaster had been kind enough to grant her the freedom a short time ago, when she had first laid eyes on Charley. It seemed a rare occasion where he allowed the girls out without company, but the gates kept the little ones protected from the outside world.
"If Headmaster Philip were in a good mood, I would say perhaps." Nanny Agnes pulled the sheets from the bed, tossing them momentarily on the floor while she removed the pillowcases. "But there are too many unwanted visitors this morning; an issue we have been faced with all week. I suspect it will only continue. Come, little one. We shall visit the nursery while I send for a maid to finish your laundry."
Eliza did not desire to spend the entire day with the other young women who were under a nanny's care. It was not that the girls were unpleasant, but there were times when she wanted to be the young lady she was, and not act like a child. The playroom only intensified the feelings of being little, with toys that made her reminisce of her childhood.
"May I stay in here today?" Eliza asked. "Would it be appropriate for me to color alone?" She did not have it in her to play and pretend all was well. Where was her papa? Had something happened to him on his way home? Preston had not been one to visit her often, but Charley had been different. The lack of him showing up concerned her.
"I am sure you are disappointed not to visit with your papa, but I can assure you that it is quite common for visits to be days apart. In fact, he made mention on his departure last Saturday that he had some business to attend to. I believe it involved marrying you. Do not worry, little one. Your papa loves you greatly."
Neither had expressed such feelings aloud but Eliza was certain she harbored strong feelings for Charley. "He wishes to marry me? When?" Eliza did not understand the urgency if it involved a wedding. She doubted that she would be able to leave Ashby in less than two years. What was her nanny talking about? Perhaps she had got the conversation confused with another little's papa.
"He spoke briefly with Headmaster Philip. I do not know the specifics but there is a wedding to come soon. I suspect his absence has been to find you a ring and perhaps a gown for your special day."
Eliza's head swam at such thoughts. She did want to marry Charley, but the idea of it being so soon overwhelmed her.
Nanny Agnes bent down to gather the linens, tossing them into a basket for the maid to bring down to wash. One of the pillowcases was left behind, and so her nanny bent down, grabbing it from the floor, her eyes landing on something beneath the bed. The older woman's arm stretched out, pulling the crinkled slip of paper as she read the note. "What is this?" Nanny Agnes asked, her tone sharp and curt as she glanced over the page.
Should she lie to protect Charley? How had that slip of paper ended up under the bed? She remembered him dropping his waistcoat along with his other garments to the floor, perhaps it had fallen out and been hidden beneath the mattress.
Eliza said nothing. There were not enough words to explain what her nanny was reading. She silently hoped it would not be a big deal. Maybe she wouldn't know what the note meant. Did they have any idea that her papa worked for a newspaper?
"Stay here!" Nanny Agnes warned her charge, storming from the nursery out into the hall.
Eliza poked her head into the hall, curious to see where her nanny was taking the scribblings. They meant nothing to the untrained eye. What did Nanny Agnes think she had found?
A host of gentlemen waited near Headmaster Philip's door, their arms crossed, faces rigid, as they leaned against the walls.
Nanny Agnes knocked briskly against the frosted glass. "Headmaster Philip, I must speak with you at once!" She boldly knocked again, interrupting whatever meeting was being held behind closed doors.
The door slowly squeaked open and Philip Hartley poked his head out, looking tired and worn. What was going on around here?
Nanny Agnes held up the note that Eliza's papa had written and had been stuffed inside his waistcoat. "I have something you need to see."
Philip snatched the note from her grip, glanced it over as he silently read it before asking the gentleman in his office to step outside. "Bring her to me."
The older woman turned on her heels, the brass clicking over marble as she headed for the nursery.
Little Eliza rushed back from the door, heading for the window where she had been earlier. Had her nanny seen her watching the scene out in the hall? She tried to pretend she was not interested in what was going on, but found it difficult. Her hands trembled at her sides.
"You are to come with me," Nanny Agnes said, holding the door open as she waited for her charge to follow.
With slow footsteps, Eliza trudged out of the nursery and down the hall. She felt the heavy gaze of seven gentlemen lined up outside the headmaster's office. Who were they, and what were they doing in the littles' wing?
Headmaster Philip's doors remained open and he gestured for little Eliza to come inside his office.
She did not wish to set foot in there, it was as though she were in trouble, but she was not quite sure what she had done wrong. With her head tilted down at the ground and her gaze on her shoes, she stepped inside the headmaster's office.
Briskly he slammed the door shut, forcing her to jump from the loud smack. She did not have to look up to know he was furious. Was he angry with her? What had she done wrong?
"Have a seat." Headmaster Philip pointed at the empty sofa.
Eliza exhaled a nervous breath and shuffled to the plush couch, sitting down. She did not dare ask what was wrong. The note had been enough of a telltale sign that there was trouble brewing. Could she blame it on Preston? He had shared tea with her in the nursery once, although Nanny Agnes had been with them the entire time.
"Tell me about this," he said, handing her the note.
Sure enough, it was the same scribbled lines she had read just a few days ago. The contents had angered her, but Charley had assured her that he was not going to write about her. "I do not know what there is to tell."
The headmaster walked around to his side of the desk, reaching for a newspaper. He folded the front page, letting her see the headline at the bottom. Little Secrets: What the headmaster refuses to tell you.
Eliza's eyes widened as she snatched the paper from his grasp, her eyes scouring the details. The byline did not give away Charley's name, but the article itself described a finishing school near London that housed young ladies who were treated as littles, only to learn to submit to their papas. In further detail it outlined their level of dress and the scandalous nature of such an act.
"As
hby is not named in the article," Eliza said, breathing a sigh of relief. Why was the headmaster worried? It could have been any finishing school, there were many near London.
Headmaster Philip came around from the desk, taking the paper and placing it back down on his desk. "It does not have to name Ashby. My understanding at the moment is that all the finishing schools are under scrutiny. Some have less to concern themselves with. The men in the hall are papas of the girls who are—or have previously been—enrolled as a little. They worry about their reputation. I have parents lined up in the finishing school demanding to know if their daughters are part of a hidden littles' school, including Clara and Addie's father. Do you think that is something that I am responsible for expressing to them? Charley has made a mockery out of finishing schools, ruining the institution, including the Ashby's reputation."
Eliza could not believe that to be the case. "I am sure it will all soon subside. He writes for a small paper. How many people could have read the article?"
The headmaster snorted under his breath. "What was once small and mundane has grown. The paper was sold out and the story is being reprinted by other neighboring communities. Your betrothed has made a name for himself, even if it is fictitious. Perhaps I should have suspected that Charley might be behind the article. I did not know journalists could be so callous."
"I am sure it is all a misunderstanding," Eliza said, even though she felt the urge to vomit. She did not want to believe that her papa could have caused this big a mess. Was that why he had not returned sooner to visit? What had he done? What had her papa done?
Chapter 18
Charley wanted to see his little Eliza. Having left work early, he took the train and then walked the remainder of the way to Ashby. It was not particularly far on foot and the weather, although warm, offered a heavy breeze that forced him to clutch his hat to keep it from blowing off.
On his approach, he saw the gates were open and several men stood at the front entrance, knocking forcefully upon the front door.
He had not met many of the papas, but from the looks of the four men, he doubted that they were all there suddenly to see their little ones.
"What is going on?" Charley asked, trying not to rouse suspicion.
"You didn't see this article?" a taller gentleman with bushy eyebrows asked. He towered above Charley, shoving the paper in his face.
Charley unfolded the crumpled heap, seeing his article on the front page. "Oh, that." There was not much else to say; that he had written the story and it did pertain to this school, but not to the finishing school?
"My daughter is at the finishing school!" The gentleman pounded on the door. "I demand to see whether she is dressed and behaving with such immoral attitudes as this article presents."
What could he say to alleviate the situation? "Perhaps the school that is in question is not Ashby?" Charley tried to think on his feet. He could not tell these men he had written the article. He had no desire to destroy Ashby or his little Eliza's happiness, but quite possibly he had crossed a line; one he was not sure he could come back from.
"How will we know without a proper inspection?" the gentleman asked. "I demand to see every room, to know my daughter is not being violated!" He pounded on the door again, receiving no response.
Charley slowly backed away from the men who were boisterous and livid, not that he blamed them. Though he had been careful not to name Ashby, he had certainly not left out the specifics of a fine establishment just a short train ride from London, with wrought iron gates to protect the littles, and a garden view from the nursery rooms.
He needed to speak to Eliza. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw the other gentlemen did not seem to pay him any heed as he slipped around to the opposite side of the building with the beautiful gardens and bench where he had first met his little one. There was only one way to get her attention. Was she even in her nursery?
Charley found a stone on the ground and tossed it up at the second story window. He was almost certain he had hit the right one, trying to remember which room was hers. It took four separate stones before he hit the glass.
The curtains were pulled back and he watched as the window was opened, squinting up at the chateau.
Nanny Agnes opened the window and peered out. "Eliza does not want to see you. I suggest you go home."
Charley shook his head. No. He would not listen to her nanny. He needed to hear the words from his little one's mouth. "Then let her tell me to leave."
"She cannot, seeing as how she is in the corner facing a time out," Nanny Agnes said. "I suggest you retract your story if you wish to visit her again. Headmaster Philip does not have the resources or the time to ward off all the unwanted advances of predators and parents demanding answers."
Charley ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. His boss had been pleased with the story, offering him both a promotion and a raise. If he recanted the article, he could possibly lose everything, but if he did nothing, he would lose his little Eliza.
"Please, Nanny Agnes." He was not one to beg, but he would not allow Eliza to slip away from him. He had strong feelings for her, the thought of wedding her soon had even crossed his mind. Would Headmaster Philip still approve of the marriage? He could not break down the door and demand to speak with them, even if he wanted to.
"I will have a word with the headmaster. I suggest you sit tight." She slammed the window shut and Charley stalked over toward the bench, taking a seat. His shoulders slumped forward, his head bent down as he tried to consider what he would say to rectify the sticky situation he had caused. It seemed clear that Mr. Philip Harley blamed Charley for the article and the mess he had to deal with as a result. Charley could not even so much as pretend he had not written the story. He may be unhappy with the outcome, but he would not lie to the headmaster. Denying he wrote it would be like rejecting a part of who he was.
Quietly he waited, and though Charley glanced up every so often at the window, he did not see any signs of movement or the curtain swaying. How would Headmaster Philip speak with him outside, if the horde of people would not leave the front entrance?
"Mr. Lockwood," Philip said, stepping around the building, presumably exiting from a back entrance that Charley was not privy to. "I must admit that I am surprised to see you return, considering the stunt you pulled with the paper."
The younger man nodded, clasping his hands together. "You cannot keep me from little Eliza." Perhaps an apology would have been more beneficial, but Charley did not wish to stand down. He paid not only for Eliza's tuition but his sister's, as well. The stress of what he'd done would blow over soon enough. It was not as though he had named Ashby in the article. Charley felt confident that many other finishing schools were facing the same pressure after what he'd written.
"I could," Philip said, coming to stand above Charley, "but I am sure that if I did, you would cause me even more trouble. To be quite honest, I am not sure which is worse: having you visit little Eliza, or expelling her from Ashby."
"She has not done anything wrong!" Charley would not allow the headmaster to punish his little one for the story he had written. His expression grew grim. If Headmaster Philip removed her from the school, then he would have no choice but to go public with the name of the chateau, and Charley would be forced to withdraw Leona, as well. His boss, James, had insisted on having him publish the institute's name to show credibility, but there was too much risk involved. He had done what he could to protect his little one and his sister, though it seemed to have done little good. "You must understand that I am a journalist. It is my duty to tell—"
"No!" Philip snapped. "You are also a papa, and it is your duty to protect. What you did put your little in harm's way."
The headmaster's words were like a punch to the stomach. Charley had known when he wrote the article that it was risky, but he did so regardless in the name of journalism. But Philip was correct, he was a papa first, and he had made a grave mistake.
"Mr. Hartley, I ap
ologize. My intent was never to expose the Ashby Chateau when I wrote that article. I am not excusing my behavior, but I truly had no intention of the school's little secrets being revealed."
"I have been drowning in parents insisting on tours, previous papas demanding reimbursement, predators who insist on gaining access to a littles' school that is supposed to be a secret; I could go on!" It was clear that the headmaster felt a tremendous amount of pressure and frustration over what had occurred. "What do you intend to do to fix this position you have put me in?" Philip asked.
It should have come as no surprise to Charley that the headmaster would demand action be taken. He was not the type of gentleman to allow what he had worked to achieve fall apart on him. "I will fix this," Charley said. Though he did not know how, he knew without a doubt that some secrets were meant to be kept, and he had broken the sacred bond of Ashby.
"You will if you ever want to see Eliza again," Philip said, his tone threatening as he stared down at the younger papa. "I expect the situation to be rectified by Monday, or you can expect to pick up your sister at the train station."
Chapter 19
Eliza watched from the window of the playroom, glancing out at her papa. She was supposed to be in time out, her hands lifting the hem of her gown to reveal her splotched bottom from a recent spanking. Her earlier outburst had been the only way for her to deal with the stress of the article. Eliza wished it had been her papa who had bent her over his knee and smacked her bottom. Instead, she had been faced with Nanny Agnes. The woman was beginning to get on her nerves.
She did not quite understand why the headmaster and her papa were standing outside, having a discussion. Was it about her? She was foolish to think she might be the topic of conversation. All the littles at Ashby had been whispering about the parents, who had suddenly insisted upon seeing the school where their daughters were enrolled.
