by Beverley, Jo
When they were all fed, Lily sent Michael and Charlotte down with the tray, instructing them to be as pleasant to the cook as possible. She'd keep both fires alive, but they'd all use the girls' room as much as possible. That would reduce their use of wood and give the servants, especially the footman, less to complain about.
She'd brought a few books and some blocks, so the younger ones were content for the moment. When the older ones returned, she saw an excellent excuse to intrude on their host again.
"If we're to be here a while, you'll need to continue your lessons. I'll ask Sir Benjamin if he has any suitable books."
She wore only her shawl for extra warmth, but that would do for the journey to the library. She went downstairs, thinking how handsome this house could be with care. The paneling would gleam, and a fire in the large hall hearth would give a warm welcome. Pot-pourri would sweeten the air.
Paintings hung on the walls, but they were all rather gloomy portraits. Perhaps the Brook family had a gloomy nature. She would not believe that beyond correction. In fact she wouldn't say Sir Benjamin was gloomy. Sad, yes, and with that unfortunate expression, but not weighed down by dark thoughts.
She knocked on the library door, and then again.
There was no response.
He was hiding from her?
Again she hesitated, but this time for longer. Last night she'd been prepared to overcome resistance, but she'd hoped for none after last night.
"Sir Benjamin is out."
She turned to face the footman, who looked very satisfied with the situation.
"I see. I wished to ask if there were any books suitable for my older children. They've missed too many lessons."
"I doubt it, ma'am. Sir Benjamin is a scholar."
Perhaps it hadn't been wise to claim her husband had been the same. Sir Benjamin might ask for details.
"Are there perhaps any books in the schoolroom here?"
"I wouldn't know, ma'am, but I doubt it. It's many years unused."
Lily returned upstairs wishing the footman had let slip how old Sir Benjamin was. Lily feared that his deformity might have aged him. Could he be as much as ten years her junior? How would the world view that?
If the world viewed it at all, she'd be sunk!
She realized that her mind was sliding away from the practical matter of becoming housekeeper back toward the golden prize of being the mistress of the house.
Of being Lady Brook.
She wanted it for her children, but she wanted it for herself, too.
She longed to be restored to respectability and security, but she wanted the marriage bed as well. With hindsight she knew that she'd married as much for lust as love, though she'd confused the two at the tender age of twenty.
It hadn't mattered at first, for she'd been well satisfied in both ways until Tom had become bored with domesticity and begun to find wicked, carefree women more to his taste. It was a wonder she'd conceived Anna, for he'd come to her bed so rarely in recent years.
That was how she'd slipped into disaster. It had been pleasant to be admired once more, as if she were young and carefree again. It had been lust, however, that had allowed Charlie Frobisher to persuade her into his bed, and lust that had sent her back there beyond reason or caution.
She had to pause at the top of the stairs, hand on a newel post, to subdue a wave of arousal. Here was another reason to seek marriage. If she lived here as housekeeper, she'd probably end up seducing Sir Benjamin, and there'd she be, sinful again.
She'd promised, nay vowed to herself, that if she escaped back into respectability, she would never put her children at risk again. It would be marriage or chastity, no matter what the cost.
That must still hold.
Steady again, she hurried back to her children.
And found Sir Benjamin there.
She looked round quickly, trying to sense the atmosphere. It was awkward, for Anna and Susie were squeezed up against Charlotte on the bed, looking as if a monster prowled. However Tommy was looking directly at Sir Benjamin and saying something about his hobby horse.
Sir Benjamin turned to Lily. "I apologize for intruding, ma'am. I wanted to be sure you had all you needed."
"Everyone's been most kind, sir. Children, I hope you've all thanked our benefactor."
Whether they had or not, they all chorused their thanks, even Anna.
Perhaps he blushed a little. It was hard to tell for his skin was quite browned. He might be a recluse, but he wasn't a hermit. He'd probably been out for a walk, despite the cold.
"I had a hobby horse," he said. "It might still be in the house somewhere."
Tommy almost bounced. "Can we go and find it, sir?"
"Tommy," Lily said. "Sir Benjamin has far too much to do."
"Nothing that can't wait. There could be other toys." He looked at Susie, who was clutching her rag doll. "No dolls, I'm afraid."
He seemed truly interested in the children, and kindly disposed. All to the good.
"If you truly don't mind, sir, I'm sure a few extra toys would help. And I hoped you might have some books suitable for continuing their lessons, especially for Michael and Charlotte."
"A great many," he said, with what she was coming to recognize as a smile, "but whether they'd be to their taste, I can't say."
"They are both very clever."
"Then why don't they come with me to see? If you will permit, ma'am."
"But what about the hobby horse?" Tommy demanded.
Sir Benjamin ruffled his hair. "Later, I promise."
Lily gave thanks that she could trust Michael and Charlotte, and sent them off with Sir Benjamin. Then she scolded Tommy for his manners.
"But he said he'd find the hobby horse!"
"And I'm sure he will. It's not for you to persist."
Susie scrambled off the bed and ran to bury her face in Lily's skirts. "That man's scary!"
Lily knelt to look her daughter in the eye. "No he's not, darling. He can't help having an odd mouth, and you must be sorry for him, not afraid of him. Will you try?"
Susie nodded, but doubtfully.
Lily set the three young children to a variation of Cat and Dog, played on the big bed. Tommy was the dog, guarding the headboard, and Anna and Susan were the cats, approaching on hands and knees, trying to sneak by. Anna was too young to feint well, but the game amused them all as Lily tidied the room and assessed what clean clothes they had.
Laundry was an urgent necessity, but the most awkward. Unless there was an unseen laundry woman, the maids must do it, and they'd resent the extra work. Laundry was never a pleasant task.
Charlotte returned with two books for herself and an alphabet one that Sir Benjamin had sent for the younger children. "I think it was his, mama, and he won't like it damaged."
It was lovely, with colored illustrations for each letter. If he'd learned his letters from it years ago, he'd handled it with care. He might be angered by damage to something he valued. She told the younger children not touch it without her permission and put it in a drawer.
Charlotte's books were a copy of Robinson Crusoe and one on birds, also prettily illustrated. She sat on the bed to look at it, and the others crowded around her. She began to read to them.
She was a good, kind girl.
"What's happened to Michael?" Lily asked.
"He and Sir Benjamin are playing chess."
Lily frowned over that. Michael knew how to play, for a teacher at his school had taught him, but he'd be little challenge. They'd never had a set at home. Perhaps Sir Benjamin would enjoy improving his game.
All was calm for the moment, so she put more wood on the fire, found her sewing bag, and sat to darn one of Michael's stockings.
Sir Benjamin brought Michael back up. "Your son plays chess well, Mistress Gifford."
"But I still lost," Michael said, cheerfully enough.
"With practice, you may soon beat me, young man. Mistress Gifford, may I invite you to dine with me this
afternoon?"
"Dine with you?" She saw hurt and hurried on. "I would be pleased to do so, sir, but I must attend to my children."
"I'm sure Michael and Charlotte can attend to the younger ones for a while. They eat here?" He frowned around. "It might be worth opening the schoolroom. Set a fire to take the chill off. I fear it might be dusty...."
Lily had to hold back a broad smile. He was anticipating a long stay.
"What an excellent idea," she said. "That would be a better place for them to play and eat. But it must not make extra work for your servants. My children and I will clean it."
"Perhaps I should hire more...." That was clearly a thought spoken aloud, but Lily silently applauded it. "I'll order a fire made up there immediately, and I will enquire about the hobby horse," he added to Tommy.
"Thank you, sir!" Then Tommy astonished Lily and perhaps himself by running over to hug Sir Benjamin's legs. "I'm so glad you found us, sir!"
The poor man seemed frozen, unable to think what to do, so Lily pulled Tommy off him, offering an apologetic smile. She wished it were easier to read his expression.
He cleared his throat. "So am I, lad. I'd forgotten all about that hobby horse. So, I will see you for dinner, ma'am? At one? I eat in the library, but if you would prefer the dining room..."
"Not at all, sir. Your library is a lovely room, and to be sitting at a large dining table, just the two of us, would not be comfortable."
He smiled widely, which exposed his lower teeth even more. Perhaps she reacted, for he quickly pulled his lips tightly together, but for a moment there, he'd been delighted.
Perhaps it wouldn't be difficult to woo Sir Benjamin Brook.
"Why is your mouth like that, sir? It's not very nice."
Lily whirled on her daughter. "Susie!"
"No, ma'am, don't chastise her. There's nothing wrong with an honest question. The honest answer, my dear, is that I was born this way, just as some are born with a twisted foot or a bent spine."
"Oh," Susie said. "Then I'm very sorry for it, sir."
"Thank you, my dear."
He left, and Lily decided not to berate the child. Above all, she wanted them all to be comfortable with him. Especially if he was to become their father.
That prospect was so desirable she couldn't think clearly about it, especially with all the dangers it would bring. She was to dine with him, though, which a housekeeper would never do.
The servants would note it. Would they approve or become hostile again?
She saw another danger.
If she dined with him, they'd converse. He would want to know more about her, which meant she'd have to lie again, and even embroider her lies.
She felt like a rope walker who had a perfectly sound bridge to one side -- the honest aspiration to become his housekeeper. Any sensible person would take the bridge, but she wasn't sure she could resist the perilous rope.
***
The dinner went well, and Lily didn't have to lie too much because she encouraged Sir Benjamin to talk about his interests. His principal one, it seemed, was botany. As she'd tended a small garden in Bloomsbury, she could sometimes contribute, but mostly she listened.
Listened, while looking at him in a warm, admiring way. That wasn't hard, for he was a warm, admirable man, and he was less boring than many about his pet subject.
At one point she said, "You should give lectures on the subject, sir. You make it so clear and interesting."
Then she winced at how thoughtless that was.
He merely said, "You're very kind, ma'am. I have written some pieces for magazines."
"Perhaps you should write some books for children. You do have a way of making plants fascinating."
He smiled. "An idea. I could try my efforts on your children."
"They'd enjoy that, and learn as well."
And perhaps you'd grow so fond of them you'd want them as your own.
Sitting here, eating excellent food she hadn't cooked, sipping wine and enjoying conversation without needing to watch the children, was sheer heaven.
It wouldn't be appropriate for her to do this if she became his housekeeper.
Marriage. Caution be damned, it had to be marriage.
She made some play of drinking her wine and licking a drop from her lips. She saw him squirm. Quite possibly he had an erection. She might have done more if the footman, John, hadn't hovered even when he wasn't serving.
She reminded herself that there was no hurry. Sir Benjamin hadn't mentioned making enquiries about employment or charities, so he was in no hurry to get rid of them. In fact, if they were to marry, it would look better if it came about slowly, and they had behaved with complete propriety in the meantime.
Lily was feeling settled and even hopeful, until, as they rose, he said, "Tomorrow is Sunday, ma'am. I assume you and the children will want to go to church?"
"Church!" She covered her dismay by saying, "I'd lost track of the days. Of course."
But Lord save her, what would the congregation make of her and her family?
And, worse by far, might anyone from this area recognize her?
Chapter Four
"I usually walk to the village," he said. "Will that be too hard for the children?"
"Not unless it rains." She could only hope that no Town grandees dwelt in this area, or if they did, none chose to come to the Brooks Magna church. She needed to escape and think about this new problem.
"Now, if you permit, sir, I must inspect the schoolroom."
He insisted on taking her there, reminiscing about his younger days. The schoolroom was plain but adequate, and nicely warmed by a fire. She was pleased to see a wire screen firmly fixed in front of the fire to prevent children getting too close.
The room was dominated by a deal table and six plain chairs for lessons and meals. There was a raised chair that would suit Anna. Probably Sir Benjamin had been the last child to use it. It seemed particularly sad that a sweet young child had been disfigured.
A narrow side table still held a globe, but a bookcase was empty and there were no toys.
The room hadn't been left completely untouched for decades, but a thin layer of dust showed neglect. Time for it to come back to life, and to illustrate to Sir Benjamin what his whole house could be with her as mistress.
When they parted, Lily went to the kitchen and asked for cleaning equipment. She firmly refused offers of help from the maids and then gathered her children and set them all to work. Even with Anna "helping" and Tommy's over-enthusiasm, the room was soon damp-dusted, the floor swept, and the windows polished.
She was praising them for their work when Sir Benjamin came in, triumphantly holding a hobby horse. He offered it to Tommy, who ran forward to grab it. "Thank you, sir!"
Lily said, "You must share with the others if they want to play with it."
He agreed, but judging from his clasp, that wouldn't happen soon. She thanked Sir Benjamin.
"I'm glad it was still here. I found some other toys."
He gestured, and the footman carried in a box. Lily saw a handle poking out, some balls, and a few smaller boxes. She smiled at her wide-eyed children. "You may explore. Carefully. After you've said your thank-yous."
They did, then fell on the box like starving animals, even Charlotte and Michael. They were still children.
"So much excitement over so little," Sir Benjamin said.
"It is not little to them. They had to leave their toys behind."
"Can they be retrieved?"
"I fear not. My husband left debts."
In truth, she'd been unable to face the world and in some fear of the mob, and they'd taken only what they could carry in their urgent flight. She was suddenly miserable about all the lies and wished she could tell Sir Benjamin the truth. He deserved the truth!
That, however, would be to sacrifice her children in order to ease her conscience. It would not do.
"Don't be sad," he said. He took her hand and squeezed it.
She stilled, frozen by guilt, but then she squeezed back and smiled up at him. That wasn't an effort. It had been a long time since someone had taken her hand like this, offering comfort, offering strength and support, and she truly appreciated his kind heart.
She'd not thought of those additional advantages to marriage because she'd not received strength and support from Tom for a long time. Perhaps never. It had taken her time to recognize that he was selfish to the bone, and that she was the one holding everything together.
"Is there anything else you need, ma'am?"
She separated her hand from his, hoping it didn't seem that she was uncomfortable with the touch.
"I will need to do some laundry, sir, but I'm not sure how to go about it. I hesitate to ask more of your servants."
"Laundry? I think we send it to the village on a Monday. It'll be no burden if you add some items."
Her smile was pure relief. "Thank you! I can pay--"
"No, no. And you must stop thanking me, Mistress Gifford. I've done little, and it's been no burden to me."
"As long as you're so kind, sir, I must continue to thank you, and delight in doing so."
Once he left the room, however, the fear trickled back.
She still had Sunday to face.
Why had she ever imagined that a recluse would stay away from Sunday service? No decent person would. And that was the problem. All the other decent people around here would be there, and one might recognize Lillias Dellaby.
***
Lily prepared her children for church almost sick with nerves. Even if no one recognized her, there would be introductions. She and her children would be presented as Sir Benjamin's guests, but people would know they'd arrived in a desperate condition.
The new tenants in Uncle Henry's cottage knew.
The servants, knew, and would have gossiped.
Perhaps the parson knew, for Sir Benjamin might have walked into the village to consult him.
There was no escape, however. She surveyed her scrubbed and tidy children and then led them out to the fray.
The day was a little warmer than the past few, and the sun came out to brighten the scenery, so the walk across the park and down a lane to the ancient church was pleasant. She frequently had to stop Tommy from running around in play, but she might permit it on the way back.
