by Cheryl Bolen
“I pray that I’ll be able to run things agreeably, with assistance from the new housekeeper, of course.”
“Have you any prospects?” Emily eyed Rebecca. “It’s not easy to entice prospective staff to relocate to the wilds of Shropshire.”
Rebecca shrugged. “I have this afternoon dispatched letters to my sister and my best friend, Lady Agar. It’s my hope they’ll learn of someone from their vast network of acquaintances.”
Peter chuckled. “Let us hope none of them have knowledge of Uncle Ethelbert.”
At the mention of the eccentric uncle, both Rebecca and Aynsley exclaimed.
“The poor fellow must have forgotten,” Aynsley said, shaking his head. “His memory’s not what it used to be.” He directed one of the footmen to go down to the dower house to collect Ethelbert.
Lady Emily’s mouth gaped open. With narrowed eyes, she glanced at Rebecca, then at her father. “Surely you’re not allowing him to eat with us!”
“If the children can sit at this table tonight, I see no reason to exclude my uncle,” Aynsley said, the tone of his voice dismissive.
Spencer and Alex exchanged amused glances. “We should not apostelate about Uncle Ethelbert,” Alex said.
“Expostulate,” Emily corrected.
“You’re such a fraud,” Spencer said to Alex, “using words so big you don’t even understand them.”
“I know more than you,” Alex said as he kicked his brother.
“That’s enough, boys!” their father said, his voice irritable and harsh.
Rebecca could see she would need to curtail the lads’ disagreements. Their father particularly desired harmony; therefore, she would do everything in her power to see that he got it. Her voice stern, she said, “I shall have to implement a plan to encourage you to be more solicitous of one another.”
Emily harrumphed. “Good luck.”
Rebecca proceeded to empty the contents of her reticule onto the table.
The boys’ eyes grew wide when they saw the pile of sparkling pence. “Now, let me see,” she said, “what day of the week is it?”
“Friday,” both boys uttered.
She nodded. “Then on Friday next you will be released from your lessons so that you may go into Wey and purchase pasties or comfits or whatever you like with these pence.”
“We get all of those?” Spencer asked.
A broad smile transformed Alex’s face. “We really get out of our lessons?”
She nodded. “Each of you shall have ten pence every Friday.”
Spencer beamed. “Truly?”
Rebecca nodded. “Indeed you will.”
His red brows drawing together, Alex asked, “What is the caveat?”
“How clever you are, Alex,” Rebecca said, meeting her husband’s amused gaze, “for there is a caveat.”
“Because I know Latin, I know what a caveat is, too,” Spencer boasted. “Pray, milady, what is the caveat?”
Milady? Though she had specifically asked not to be referred to as a countess, she could only allow herself to address one offense at a time. She sighed. “Every time one of you speaks or acts unkindly to the other, I take away a coin.”
Alex’s lower lip worked into a pout. “Then I’ll never get to go to Wey.”
“I have much more confidence in you than you have in yourself,” Rebecca said.
“Can you possibly understand how thoroughly Spencer aggravates me?”
“What does aggwevate mean?” asked Chuckie, whose cravat was the receptacle of more soup than his mouth.
“It means to make mad,” Emily said.
“I for one am going to be most tolerant of my brothers,” Spencer announced, bestowing bright smiles on each of his brothers.
“Prevaricator!” Alex shouted.
Rebecca reached out and withdrew a coin. “This pence goes from Alex’s pile to my pocket.”
Alex’s eyes narrowed.
“Milady understands your big words, Alex.” Spencer helped himself to sturgeon, then spooned some of Cook’s famed French sauce on it. “Prevaricator, indeed! Why can you not just say liar?”
Milady again. Not once the previous night had she been referred to by that title. Had the boys made some kind of pact to call her that?
“See, you called yourself a liar!”
“I did not!”
“Boys!” Their father drilled them with an angry stare.
“Yes, milord,” a repentant Alex said.
“Pray,” Emily said, glaring at Rebecca with hostility, “does my father approve of your bribery?”
“My wife has been given authority in everything that occurs at Dunton.”
“I only wish to ensure that things run smoothly,” Rebecca said.
Emily glowered. “Are you saying the house has not been running smoothly under me?”
“No. Of course not. Your father’s very proud of all you’ve done.”
“But I’m not proud of your demeanor now. I beg that you show your stepmother more courtesy,” Aynsley said.
“My dear,” Rebecca said to Aynsley, “I assure you Emily’s been delightful.” While Rebecca thoroughly disapproved of lying, she must do so now in order to shield Emily—as well as Emily’s adoring father. She vowed to never do anything that would jeopardize the bond between them.
Chuckie gazed at Rebecca. “Mother?”
“She’s not your mother,” Spencer snapped, then met his sister’s approving nod.
It took no great deductive skills for Rebecca to realize Emily had instructed her brothers not to refer to Rebecca as Mother. Rebecca smarted from the hostility in the boy’s voice. “I explained this last night. I’m to be his earthly mother.”
“Because our real mother’s been called to heaven,” Alex added.
“I’m sensible that you lads have fond memories of your mother, and I shan’t wish you to ever forget her.” Rebecca gazed at Chuckie, and her voice softened. “Chuckie, the dear lamb, never knew her. I’m honored more than I can ever convey to serve as mother to him—and to each of you. But I understand if you choose not to address me as such.”
Just then a footman rolled Uncle Ethelbert into the room.
“Just make a place for him next to me,” Aynsley instructed.
The great-nephews and Emily offered the elderly man polite greetings.
“Have you met the new mistress, Uncle?” Spencer asked.
“No, no. Not distressed at all. Been wanting to come up to the big house.”
Alex and Spencer could only barely refrain from bursting into laughter.
Aynsley’s quick glare sobered them. “As it happens, boys, your stepmother personally invited our uncle to dine with us tonight.”
Despite that Ethelbert sat at the other end of the table, he seemed unable to remove his gaze from Rebecca, which made her a bit uncomfortable.
Finally Ethelbert turned to address his nephew, and though they sat next to one another, he shouted. “John, my boy, you should tell that new wife of yours not to wear those blasted spectacles. Never in my life saw a pretty lady in spectacles.”
Aynsley looked exceedingly uncomfortable.
“I don’t believe I have, either, Uncle,” Rebecca agreed, her voice raised. “Spectacles are ever so unattractive, but I’m blind as a bat without them.” It did not escape her notice that Emily—her eyes flashing with merriment—sent Peter a smug smile.
Rebecca could not face these challenges without the Lord’s help. Dear God, please don’t let my patience with Lady Emily wear thin. Help me love her in the same way her true mother did. I ask this in Jesus’s name. Amen.
During the remainder of the dinner the boys were relatively well behaved. Only once did she have to pocket one of Alex’s coins—for calling Chuckie an imbecile.
“But you said I wasn’t to call Spencer names!” Alex defended.
“If I recall from last night, your father was decidedly distressed when you spoke ill to Chuckie, was he not?”
Alex refused to reply.<
br />
Just before the sweetmeats were about to be laid, Rebecca heard a trickling sound, like the pouring of wine, but there was no wine at the table.
Emily suddenly shrieked and darted toward Chuckie. “Grandpapa’s Plutarch’s Lives!”
Then Rebecca understood the source of the noise. “Oh, dear.”
“Chuckie had an accident!” Spencer shrieked, shooting Alex a smug smile.
Emily yanked Chuckie from the now-soaked book.
A footman rushed to help, but Rebecca, who’d left her own chair, waved him off. She lifted the tome from Chuckie’s chair, careful to keep it several inches away from her. Drip. Drip. Drip. She hurried to the hearth and set the opened book there to dry. Then she turned to the footman. “I beg that you see that Master Chuckie gets on dry breeches then accompany him to the scullery. He must procure a bucket of soapy water and something with which to scrub the chair and floor. If he proves incapable of carrying the bucket, you may help him.”
A squishing sound could be heard with each step as the little boy trailed the footman from the dining room.
Outrage in her voice, Emily addressed Rebecca. “Surely you don’t think Chuckie capable of cleaning his mess!”
“His...mess will be properly cleaned later. For now, the boy must be charged with cleaning his messes. It is hoped that once he perceives the cleaning of his accidents causes him to miss his sweetmeats—or his fun—he will avoid such accidents in the future.”
Emily directed a scathing gaze at Rebecca. “You
really don’t know much about children, do you?”
“Emily!” Lord Aynsley was furious. “You will apologize to my wife!”
Rebecca rapidly shook her head. “No, no, please. She’s right. I don’t know much about children, though it seems to me that those who do, have not succeeded with the lad’s accidents. Why not try something different? I’ll be the first to back off if it’s not successful.”
Peter smiled at Rebecca. “I think it sounds cunning.”
“Found some money?” Uncle Ethelbert shouted, eyeing Peter.
This time neither Alex nor Spencer could hold back their giggles. Even Emily had a difficult time concealing her smile.
“No, Uncle,” Peter said, his eyes flashing, his voice elevated. “I said, I think Lady Aynsley’s plan very cunning.”
Ethelbert’s gaze shifted to her again.
“Can I get you some plum pudding, Uncle?” Peter asked, his voice raised.
“Two please.”
“Ethelbert has quite the sweet tooth,” Aynsley said, eyeing Rebecca.
Chuckie, who had set about scrubbing his chair in a most careless manner, tossed the brush back into the bucket, hopped upon the soaking seat cushion and attempted to reach across the table for his own serving of plum pudding. When he realized his arms weren’t long enough, he began to climb upon the table.
That was when Emily stopped him. “Get down right now! What do you think you’re doing?”
“I’ve gots to get my plum pudding before Effelbert eats it all up.”
“You cannot climb upon the table!” Emily scolded.
“I don’t think mess makers should be allowed plum pudding,” Aynsley said.
The last thing Rebecca wanted was for Chuckie to hold his father in animosity. She gave her husband a pleading look. “But he has cleaned his mess.”
“Very well.” Aynsley got to his feet, snatched up his youngest son, then returned to his chair to allow Chuckie to eat the plum pudding while sitting on his father’s lap.
After dinner, courtesy of Mr. Walter Scott, Rebecca had the opportunity to ingratiate herself with the lads by reading to them one of Mr. Scott’s adventure stories. When she finished the chapter, she tucked each of them into their beds, promising to read the second chapter the following night.
Before she left the chamber Spencer and Alex shared, Alex said, “Thank you ever so much, milady. No one has ever read to us before. Even though I love to read myself, being read to is an ever-so-exciting experience.”
Milady again. The first night Alex had referred to her as Mother. Rebecca could see Emily’s hand in the change. “Did your nurse not read to you when you were smaller?”
“Never,” Alex said.
“My mother died when I was a babe. I used to wish I had a mother to tuck me in and read to me at night. I suppose that’s why I want to do this with you lads.” She turned back toward the door.
“I thank you, too,” Spencer added.
With the children in bed, she came to her husband’s library. He immediately left his desk and moved to the sofa near the fire. “Come, let’s sit by the fire, my dear.”
It was such a comforting room with its book-lined walls, dark woods and a fire that hadn’t gone out since they’d arrived at Dunton Hall. She inhaled the mellow smell of wood burning, which was so much nicer than the wretched coal fires of London.
She collapsed beside him. “I’m ever so sorry I’ve made a muddle of things.”
“You most certainly have not! I’m the one who should be apologizing, apologizing for my daughter’s inexcusable behavior. You will likely not believe that she’s never behaved so wretchedly before. She’s always displayed the most delightful manners.”
Rebecca knew how dearly he loved Emily, and she did not want to be the cause of any friction between them. “I do believe you. She has so many amiable qualities. I daresay she’s just having a difficult time adjusting not only to relinquishing her authority here but also fearing I’m trying to replace her own mother.”
“I don’t care what her reasons are, I’ll not have her behave in such a manner. I’m going to have a good talk with her tomorrow. I plan to take her riding in the morning.”
“I have no objections to you taking her riding, but I beg that you not tell her how to treat me. I would like her affection but only if it’s earned—not forced. Please give me your word that you won’t chastise her.”
He was silent for a moment, his thinned lips twitching. “I don’t like it, but if that’s what you want, I’ll agree.”
“Good. Now tell me, did you approve of Ethelbert’s conduct tonight?”
Aynsley started chuckling. “For the most part—but I’m sorry for the comment about your spectacles.”
“If I were vain, his words might have offended me, but you must own, I’m one of the least vain women in England. I’d like to think I bring many more useful qualities to this marriage in place of a pretty face.”
“Indeed you do, but you mustn’t discount your face. It is pretty.”
His comment embarrassed her. She must change the subject. “The boys loved Ivanhoe ever so much.”
“What lad wouldn’t? You have very good instincts about what pleases lads.”
“I do hope they will be pleased when I tell them they’ll start attending Sunday church services.” Her lashes lifted, and she met his gaze. “You must help me by setting a good example. Your attendance is compulsory.”
He frowned and did not reply for a moment. “For a marriage to be a successful partnership, I must support you, and you must support me. It’s all about comp—”
“—romise,” she finished, remembering her own compromise that she would allow herself to be known as Lady Aynsley in Society, even though such titles went against her principles. “So, you will accompany us to church?”
“I will.”
“Should I have first discussed with you my methods of discipline? Emily was not pleased with my bribery plan or with Chuckie’s scrubbing punishment.”
“Emily is not their mother. She’ll be having babes of her own before too long. You are older, more mature and have some excellent ideas. You also have my full support.”
“Thank you. Now, we’ve spoken enough about the children. You must tell me what you’ve been working on in the library.”
“I had some correspondence with fellow members.”
“About proposed legislation?”
His eyes twinkled as he regarded her.
“Yes. Lord Sethbridge has asked for my support for his bill to raise taxes.”
“Oh, dear, that’s difficult.”
“Yes, it is. The only way I could support him would be in exchange for his support of a franchise-expansion
bill.”
“How exciting!”
“Would that it were. It doesn’t stand a chance of passing.” He looked tired, and because of that, he looked his age. Had the cares of his home worn on him?
Her first obligation now was to lift any burden from him. She vowed to do everything in her power—with assistance from the Heavenly Father—to win over all his children and to love them as dearly as he did. Already, she knew she loved the lads. Please, Lord, help me love Emily. “What about in Commons?”
He shrugged. “Chances of the franchise bill passing are better there.”
“Then we’ll just have to drum up support in that quarter.” She began to yawn. A pity she was so tired. She would have liked to start a new essay that very night promulgating the expansion of the franchise.
“You’ve had a very long day,” he said.
She got to her feet. “Yes, I am very tired, and I can tell you are, too. Can you direct me to a book on agriculture?”
“Indeed I can.” He went to the bookcases and quickly produced a thick volume. “This is my favorite. It discusses the newest methods in agriculture. Should you like one on animal husbandry, too?”
“I think not. My farm, as you know, is quite small. I shan’t want to try too many new things.” She took the proffered book and brushed her lips across his cheek without even thinking about what she was doing. “Good night. Pray, don’t stay up too late. You look as if you could use a good night’s sleep.”
At the landing at the top of the steps she came abreast of Peter. “I beg a word with you,” he said.
She indicated a bench there in the corridor, and they both sat down under the buttery glow of a wall sconce.
“I don’t know if you’re aware of the fact Emily and I wish to wed.”
“I am.”
“I would be ever so indebted to you if you could put in a good word about me with my Uncle Aynsley.”
“It’s not words that will cull his favor, but actions.”
“That’s the pity of it. I am incapable of action, having no money coming my way until next year.”
