The Dangers of Doing Good (Arrangements, Book 4)

by Rebecca Connolly

  “Nobody is as small as Annie,” Tibby commented as she looked her up and down. “Mary Harris might have some of her sister’s things that will do. Cassandra was quite small once upon a time.”

  Annie looked down at herself, then looked up at Duncan, her emerald eyes wide. “Am I really so small?” she asked.

  He opened his mouth to reply, although what he was going to say he had no idea.

  “Skin and bones, darling, skin and bones,” Tibby sighed shaking her head. “If we wrapped you in white linen, people would think you a corpse.”

  “Tibby!” Marianne screeched, cheeks flaming.

  Duncan put a hand over his eyes briefly, unsure whether to laugh or groan.

  “What is it now?” Tibby asked with no small amount of irk. She shook her head and leaned closer to Annie. “This is why I do not like living in England. Abroad is so much lovelier. You can say the most astonishing things on the Continent and nobody thinks anything of it. But here in England, it is all prim and proper, polite behavior all the time. I have no idea how we became so high and mighty, but there it is.”

  Annie actually smiled at that, which sent a warm jolt into Duncan’s midsection.

  Tibby smiled back and patted Annie’s hand. “Never fear, my dear. We shall take good care of you here. Between Marianne and myself, you shall want for no fashion or conversation, and with Duncan we are sure to be well protected and well fed.”

  “Excuse me?” he asked, attempting to appear affronted.

  “Time for that bath, I think!” Tibby said loudly as she took Annie’s arm and began leading her towards the stairs. “Marianne, which room should she take?”

  “Oh, the one next to you, of course, Tibby,” Marianne said, taking up position on the other side of Annie. “Agnes! Have a bath drawn up in the room next to Lady Raeburn, as quick as you can! And bring the lavender soap!”

  “What am I supposed to do?” Duncan called after them, feeling slightly worried about leaving Annie alone with his overly exuberant sister and aunt. They would overwhelm her beyond anything he could have imagined.

  “Something manly!” Tibby called down.

  “There is a pile of correspondence in your study!” Marianne reminded him. “We shall not be long, and then we may all have dinner together!”

  Annie looked back at him before they reached the turning of the stairs. He was correct, she was overwhelmed already. He took three steps forward, then stopped. Was not this what he wanted? For his sister and his aunt to adore her and take care of her? To have her take her life by force and start living in earnest? To have someone take care and take an interest in her?

  She did not need rescuing. Not now.

  And he was no hero.

  He smiled at her encouragingly and nodded.

  She bit her lip and gave him the slightest nod in return. Then she was out of his sight, and he could only hear his aunt and sister tittering on about soaps and gowns and stockings.

  All too soon, the entryway was silent. And he stood there alone.

  He put his hands on his hips and hummed a brief sigh to himself.

  Surely there was something he was supposed to do, but on his life, he had no idea what it was.

  He barked a laugh and shrugged to himself, then strode off to his study, whistling as he went. And most determinedly not thinking about what was going on upstairs.

  “Your hair is stunning, Annie!” Marianne gushed as she rinsed it once more. “It is as pure as gold and glitters just as bright!”

  “Thank you,” Annie murmured, tucking her chin into her knees.

  “Such a pretty little thing.” Tibby sighed and shook her head. “It is so sad you have had such an unfortunate life thus far.”

  “Tibby,” Marianne scolded from behind Annie. “Hush.”

  “Do not hush me, child,” Tibby barked, coming over with toweling and a simple dressing gown. “Annie is a grown woman and she has been through enough. She can certainly take a bit of sympathy.”

  Annie did not know what to make of Tibby at all. The woman was outrageous, audacious, and vibrant about absolutely everything. She was quite intimidated, and yet helplessly fascinated by her. Here was a woman who did not care what anybody else had to say or think. What would it be like to live such a life?

  “I don’t mind,” Annie said softly as Marianne rung out her hair. “Truly.”

  Marianne sighed. “You are kind. But really, you must tell us when we ought to stop talking or we will just keep going.”

  Annie smiled into her knees.

  “All right, stand up now. I believe it is as clean as we will get you.” Marianne stood and wiped her slightly perspiring brow, handed the soap to a servant, and dried her hands on the apron she wore. Even thus, she was beautiful. Exquisite, yet so natural and at ease. No trace of the airs from before.

  What a mystery Duncan’s sister was.

  Annie shakily stood, her knees trembling from cold and fatigue, and yes, from her injuries. Marianne had not said much as she had washed over the bruises, but she had felt when Annie had tensed at the ribs. Yet she had been careful and kind, attentive and soft. Annie appreciated the discretion. She didn’t mind sympathy, but she did not wish to discuss it.

  She had rinsed her hair that first night at the inn, hoping to rid it of the blood. As no mention of it had been made, she supposed she had been successful. Her scalp still tingled from the cuts there, but not enough for her to make any sort of outward appearance of discomfort. She knew she was not so fortunate in the rest of her body. Her face was mostly healed, but the rest of her still bore ugly discolorations.

  Tibby stepped forward with the gown, then she saw the bruises, and she was not as discreet as Marianne.

  “Oh, my dear child,” Tibby moaned as she took in the bruises on her sides, her arms, and her thighs.

  Annie’s face flushed and she dropped her eyes, covering herself in embarrassment.

  “No, no,” Tibby said, sounding serious for the first time yet. “Do not be ashamed, Annie. May I look more closely?”

  Annie nodded, her eyes burning.

  Tibby came closer and peer intently at the bruises Annie bore, occasionally bringing two fingers out to touch them, but never applying enough pressure to cause a reaction. She met Annie’s eyes, then set her hand against her sore ribs and pressed lightly, making Annie wince a bit. Tibby nodded, then brought the dressing gown over and helped her get into it.

  “I think we may want to have a doctor examine you, Annie. Just as a precaution,” Tibby said softy. “The bruises are healing well, but I am concerned for your ribs.”

  “How can you tell?” she asked quietly, stepping out of the tub with assistance from Marianne.

  “I once volunteered as a nurse with the British army,” Tibby replied with a smile, her tone becoming more her usual self. “It was quite exciting. That was how I met my first husband.”

  “I did not know that, Tibby,” Marianne said in surprise as she began drying Annie’s hair with a towel.

  Tibby smiled rather deviously and her eyes glinted. “Well, he did not marry me for another seven years, but I made quite the impression on him.”

  Marianne laughed loudly, while Annie merely smiled. “Of course, you did!” Marianne squealed. She saw Annie’s uncertainty, and whispered, “You will have to get used to Tibby. She is quite eccentric. Absolutely no inhibitions whatsoever.”

  “I can see that,” Annie murmured, still smiling.

  “Come, my dear,” Tibby said, taking her arm. “Sit by the fire while we wait for your dresses to arrive.”

  Annie let herself be led, still not sure if this was real or not. Nobody ever took care of her, let alone to such an extent. They obviously knew some of her story, perhaps all that Duncan did. But no one knew the whole story, and no one ever would.

  “You don’t have to fuss over me,” she murmured as she sat where Tibby had indicated. “I know you have other things to do. Better things.”

  Tibby gave her a harsh look. “Tosh,
my dear, that is quite enough of that. You are to be my companion and that is as much my responsibility as yours. Do you think I would let any companion of mine stand there any longer in such dirty things after so long a journey? Or fail to see after her welfare? How would that reflect upon me?”

  Marianne snorted and sat on the ottoman near Annie’s chair. “Really, Tibby, she will think you only care about your own reputation.”

  “Pah! She will not.” Tibby winked at Annie. “I am merely pointing out that a person of my standing and reputation takes a great deal of care with the things to which she is entrusted. Or the people.”

  “Thank you,” Annie told her, her eyes burning again as tears swirled.

  “Oh, do not cry!” Tibby insisted, reaching out and taking her hand. “I cannot help but to cry when others do!”

  “Since when?” Marianne laughed, stretching her toes out to the fire.

  Tibby glared at her. “Mind your tongue, girl, or you will be out of my will.”

  Annie looked at Marianne in abject horror. Could such a thing really be done so quickly?

  Marianne giggled and leaned closer. “Tibby is always threatening to cut me off. She has not followed through yet.”

  “Now, Annie,” Tibby said with a sharp clearing of her throat. “As you are to be my companion, I feel that I must ask you a few simple questions. Nothing too pressing or personal, mind you, for personal details always complicate matters of business.”

  Business? Since when was their relationship going to be purely business? Still, if that was how she wanted to view it, Annie would not argue. But perhaps she ought to consider a salary or something, if that were one of the questions. How much money did one even expect with these positions? She had no head for figures, and was quite slow with these things.

  She swallowed and nodded, wishing she were back in that warm bath where Marianne and Tibby had taken such care with her.

  “What skills do you possess?” Tibby asked in a very formal voice.

  Annie swallowed, unsure of how to answer. She didn’t think that the making of edible substances out of very few ingredients would count with this particular setting, but would her mending?

  Tibby tilted her head slightly. “Do you play?”

  She shook her head.

  “Do you sing?”

  “O-only to myself, probably not well,” she stammered.

  Tibby hummed. “We shall see about that.”

  “Tibby,” Marianne scolded softly, setting a hand over Annie’s, “you are making her nervous.”

  “I make everybody nervous, darling. She will get over it.” Tibby turned her fierce gaze back on Annie, but tempered it with a smile.

  “Do you enjoy reading?”

  “I used to,” Annie replied quietly, her hands quaking beneath Marianne’s hold. “When I was small, I learned to read and I think I enjoyed it. But I don’t remember much.” Her cheeks warmed in embarrassment, and she felt Marianne squeeze her hands.

  “That can be improved upon,” Tibby told her with an approving nod. “We can certainly help you with that. I do not read much myself, it makes my head ache, but I enjoy listening. Perhaps Marianne can teach you and then you can read to me.”

  “Or Duncan,” Marianne broke in suddenly. “He enjoys reading very much, and has quite the good storytelling voice. I am a very poor reader myself. I can read, of course, but I have no patience for it.” She smiled at Annie and patted her hand. “You, on the other hand, seem a very patient person.”

  Annie smiled back. “I try.”

  Tibby sniffed. “We all try, darling. Some of us succeed more than others.” She cleared her throat again. “Now, what about embroidery? Have you any experience there?”

  Annie bit her lip. “I can mend very well, and sew as well. I had to make my own dresses.”

  Tibby and Marianne reared back in shock. “Truly?” Marianne gasped, looking both impressed and horrified.

  Annie nodded, unsure whether she should be ashamed or proud.

  “Did you make that gown you wore earlier?” Tibby asked, peering closely at her, as if trying to determine if she were being truthful.

  Again, Annie only nodded.

  “My, my,” Tibby said in a soft tone, sitting back. “In that case, we really can send for dresses from whomever we like, can we not? Annie can fix them herself.”

  “I’m not so very skilled,” Annie admitted shyly. “I can do basics, and some slight detailing, but…”

  “Darling, the basics are all that is required!” Tibby said with a grin. “I hate embroidery, I am terrible at it. But I do love embroidered things. I would pay you to embroider for me.”

  “I could do that,” she said a bit more confidently than she might have otherwise, but she would do whatever Tibby wanted. The woman was taking great pains with her and she was grateful. “Would I… um… that is… will I have a… salary?” she asked, knowing she sounded rather forward.

  Tibby looked thoughtful. “I do not think that is necessary.”

  Annie’s mouth gaped in shock.

  “After all, no godmother would pay her godchild,” Tibby continued without noticing. “That would make me rather peculiar, employing relations and all that.”

  “We are not related,” Annie stammered in confusion.

  Tibby waved a hand. “Of course, we are, darling. I am your godmother now. I will provide everything you need.”

  “Lady Raeburn…”

  “Call me that again and you may take a turn as a scullery maid in the kitchens,” she scolded, looking quite fierce. “I am to be Tibby and nothing else, even Aunt Tibby, if you wish to be polite. Back to your situation. You shall have room and board with me, all clothing that you or I see fit, as I suspect you live quite simply, and I, most assuredly, do not, and an afternoon off whenever you like.”

  This was not at all what Annie had expected. How long was she to remain, then? Would she never have further opportunities in the world? Not that she could ever imagine leaving, but what if things changed? And to live so freely?

  “And of course, you shall have an allowance.”

  “An allowance?” Annie repeated. “How would that be different from a salary?”

  “Yes, Tibby, how?” Marianne asked, having watched the interchange with amusement.

  “An allowance is my being charitable, a salary is something you have earned,” Tibby explained patiently. “As Annie is not actually under my employ, she is to have an allowance. And now as to how much…” She put a finger to her lips and pursed them.

  Annie looked over at Marianne, who was grinning and only shrugged.

  “I shall set up an account for you with funds to spend as you like,” Tibby said slowly. “And I shall add to it each month. How much does a companion make these days, Marianne?”

  “I do not know.”

  “Of course not. Hmm… Fifteen pounds a month?” she asked, looking at Annie.

  She gasped. “Fifteen pounds?” It was a fortune!

  “Oh, very well, then. Thirty pounds?”

  She could not even gasp. She mouthed the amount that was so extravagant she could not fathom it.

  Tibby sighed in mock frustration. “Mercenary girl. If you keep reacting thus, I shall increase it again.”

  Annie clamped her mouth shut on a helpless giggle, and Tibby nodded with a smile.

  “Thirty it is, then.”

  “But what am I to spend it on?” Annie asked, truly stunned.

  “Anything you like!” Marianne told her with a nudge. “Bonnets, books, gowns, sweets…”

  “Although it is wise not to spend it all on sweets,” Tibby said with a finger in the air. “People will talk.” She looked at Annie thoughtfully. “I suppose you could spend a few months’ worth on sweets and get away with it. You could use a bit of extra weight.”

  “Oh, Tibby,” Marianne sighed, rolling her eyes.

  A knock on the door interrupted the most ridiculous conversation Annie had ever been part of. A maid entered with arms ful
l of gowns and undergarments that were quite reserved, which suited Annie perfectly, but were of such quality she gaped. She had never seen clothing so fine!

  “Ah! The gowns!” Tibby leapt to her feet and Marianne was hard on her heels. “Excellent. And you are sure Mary will not tell Geoffrey? We must keep her presence quiet for as long as possible, and you know how those men are…”

  “Positive,” Marianne replied. “He is with the rest of them and not due to return until Friday.”

  “Excellent.” Tibby said again.

  Both turned to Annie with nearly identical grins. “Come along, Annie,” Tibby said with a crook of her finger. “It is time to play dress up.”

  Chapter Six

  I t was not unusual for Duncan to eat alone when in London. It was, however, unusual for him to eat alone for two consecutive meals.

  Dinner the evening before had turned out to be just him at the table. The women had been enjoying themselves too much above stairs with the borrowed dresses to be bothered to come down to eat, and had instead requested a tray be brought to them.

  He couldn’t say that he minded so very much. How could he resent them for taking Annie under their care so immediately and with such fervor? If she were enjoying herself, he would certainly not stand in the way of that.

  But the dinner had been surprisingly lonely.

  He shook his head as he pushed aside his breakfast plate and glanced around the room. Eating alone at breakfast was not nearly so uncommon. His aunt and sister were hardly to be seen before luncheon, while he could not sleep much longer than the sun had risen on any given day, no matter how exhausted he was.

  He wondered if Annie rose early.

  The thought had crossed his mind to invite her to dine with him, but he would not want her to feel forced or that it was expected. He was not entirely sure his aunt had been very clear on what she expected from Annie as a companion or how she could comport herself. Having never been a companion before, he doubted she had the slightest inclination of the rules and expectations of Society, least of all Tibby, who obeyed Society’s boundaries only if she wished it.

  Why, Annie probably didn’t even know anything about the house beyond what she had seen last night. She would have no idea where anything was or where she ought to go and do and say.