by Diane Gaston
Pamela eyed Lady Agnes and spoke mechanically. ‘Sorry, Lady Agnes.’
Lady Agnes took a step backwards. ‘Is there truly a snake?’
‘A very long one,’ Pamela said.
‘A garden snake is harmless,’ Garret told her.
‘But we were pretending it was a viper,’ Ellen explained. ‘Phibbs said there are vipers in the gardens, too.’
Lady Agnes trembled. ‘Do not say so!’
Garret reassured her, ‘Vipers prefer to hide. You have nothing to fear. Even the gardens in London have them.’
‘We saw a big garden snake, though,’ Ellen said. ‘Want to see it?’
Lady Agnes smiled stiffly at the little girl. ‘Are you two unsupervised?’
‘No, Lady Agnes.’ Miss Tilson appeared from behind the shrubbery. ‘I am here.’
Miss Tilson looked lovely in the wide-brimmed hat she wore for excursions like this one, her colour heightened by the summer air. The little girls looked like miniatures of her, in similar hats and a healthy glow to their faces.
‘Goodness!’ Lady Agnes laughed. ‘Do you stay out of doors all day? Riding all the morning and now playing in the garden? When do the girls do their lessons?’
Miss Tilson lifted her chin. ‘Their lesson is about the flora and fauna found here. Phibbs has shown the girls plants of all varieties and insects and this lovely snake.’
‘Phibbs?’ Lady Agnes looked quizzically towards Garret.
‘The gardener,’ he responded.
Lady Agnes’s lip curled. ‘The gardener!’
‘He is a fine man,’ Garret said.
‘I am certain he is,’ laughed Lady Agnes. ‘And apparently a suitable playmate, as well.’
‘Not a playmate,’ Miss Tilson broke in. ‘I could think of no one more knowledgeable about plants and insects and the like.’
When he’d been a boy, Garret learned much from Phibbs, but he’d escaped his governess to do so. He had to admit he sometimes wondered if his nieces received any lessons in the schoolroom. Miss Tilson certainly did not teach as he had been taught, but the little girls had blossomed under her care and that was enough for him.
‘If you will pardon us,’ Miss Tilson went on, ‘we will return to our lesson. Come, girls.’
Garret watched her walk away, holding the hand of each of the girls who skipped at her side. It was a sight he wanted to embed in his memory.
‘Such an interesting person.’ Lady Agnes took his arm again. ‘Do you not agree?’
He did agree. And that was what made life so difficult at the moment.
Chapter Fourteen
Lady Agnes seemed to dismiss Miss Tilson more easily than Garret could. She took his arm again and turned down a path away from where Miss Tilson and the children had disappeared.
She spoke. ‘I have a surprise for you, Brookmore, dear.’
‘A surprise?’ Garret suspected he would not like a surprise from Lady Agnes.
Her expression was that of a mischievous child. ‘You know how often I have mentioned to you that it would be a courtesy to call upon your neighbours?’
He nodded.
‘I decided you have been much too busy, so I took matters into my own hands so to speak.’
‘What did you do?’ His voice turned cold.
She grinned. ‘I have planned a dinner party.’
‘A dinner party?’ She planned a dinner party without his knowledge?
‘Do not concern yourself,’ she said quickly. ‘I consulted with Mrs Dodd and Glover regarding the guest list. I will show it to you when we are in the house, but I know you will approve it.’
‘I am not certain this is a wise idea,’ he said carefully.
‘Of course it is a wise idea!’ She laughed.
‘You should have consulted me, not Mrs Dodd and Glover.’ You are not my wife and hostess yet, he wanted to say.
‘It has been a lovely diversion for me, Brookmore,’ she went on. ‘Surely you can see how much pleasure it gives me to do this for you.’
Not for him. For her. Because she wanted it.
‘Please, Brookmore?’ She blinked up at him. ‘Please let me show you how skilled I am at giving a party like this?’
Having her so publicly act as his hostess felt like another link in the chain of a marriage he no longer desired.
A marriage that was inevitable, though.
‘Show me the guest list.’ He had no intention of approving this dinner party without knowing who would be invited. ‘Then I will decide.’
‘I am very happy to show you the guest list,’ she retorted. ‘But it is too late for you to decide.’
His anger kindled. ‘What do you mean too late?’
She smiled her sweet smile. ‘The invitations have already been sent.’
‘You sent out the invitations?’ His voice rose.
She faced him, nonplussed. ‘You know you’ve neglected your duty to your neighbours. This dinner party will remedy that. You have a standing in this area. You must assert your importance.’
He did not mind dining with neighbours and hearing of local matters. What he did not like was Lady Agnes manoeuvring to get what she wanted in an underhanded way.
‘You have made it impossible for me to refuse, have you not?’ he snapped.
She laughed and put her arm through his again. ‘Of course I have! But know I have done it all for you, my dearest one.’
That did nothing to appease him. ‘When is this dinner to be?’
She squeezed his arm. ‘In a week’s time.’
‘A week’s time?’ How long had she been working on this in secret?
‘You will love it, I promise you,’ she insisted. ‘It will be the loveliest dinner party!’
He’d get through it, he was certain. He’d got through many a dinner party, ball and other entertainments in London.
He must accept some of the blame for this, as well. He’d not troubled himself to know how she occupied her days. He’d left her too much to her own devices.
‘Next time, no secrets, Lady Agnes.’ He much preferred plain speaking. Like Miss Tilson engaged in.
‘I shall never hide anything from you, Brookmore.’ She sounded sincere for a woman who’d kept this secret for some length of time.
She pulled him towards the garden gate. ‘Come inside with me! I will show you the guest list and the menu. I am sure you will be more than satisfied.’
He let her lead him back inside the house. As soon as they entered through the front door, the butler approached him.
‘What is it, Glover?’ he asked.
‘A caller,’ Glover replied. ‘A gentleman who wishes to see Miss Tilson.’
Lady Agnes dropped his arm.
‘Miss Tilson?’ he asked. Who would call upon Miss Tilson? Who would she know? ‘Did the gentleman give his name?’
‘Sir Orin Foley, m’lord,’ the butler replied. ‘He is seated in the hall.’
Lady Agnes started for the door of the hall. ‘Let us see what the gentleman wants.’
Garret followed her.
A man who looked to be in his thirties stood at their entrance. He was not as tall as Garret and was fair, with red hair that was starting to recede from his forehead.
He stepped forward with an ingratiating smile. ‘Lord Brookmore, I presume? I am Sir Orin Foley.’ He bowed.
Garret looked at him suspiciously. Where had this fellow come from? ‘And you are here to see Miss Tilson?’
‘If she will receive me.’ Foley smiled again.
‘Is she acquainted with you?’ Garret asked.
He laughed softly. ‘Indeed. I am her former employer.’
‘And your business with Miss Tilson?’ Garret pressed.
Lady Agnes broke in. ‘Brookmore, maybe the business is private.�
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Garret did not care.
‘I have no secrets, I assure you,’ Foley said. ‘I am her former employer and, to be frank with you, I am here to ask her to return with me.’
Take her back to Ireland?
Lady Agnes spoke again. ‘You must let her speak to the man, Brookmore. It is her affair, certainly.’
He supposed he must, although every piece of him wanted to toss the man out before Miss Tilson knew he was here.
‘Very well,’ he said. ‘I will send someone to find her.’
* * *
Lady Agnes watched Brookmore stride out of the hall. She approached Sir Orin.
‘I am Lady Agnes, sir. I wrote to your wife to enquire about Miss Tilson, but I would prefer you not tell Lord Brookmore that. He likes to believe he must do everything.’
Sir Orin’s expression turned mournful. ‘I regret to say my dear wife passed away shortly after Miss Tilson left us. I am here to entice her back. We need her desperately.’
Lady Agnes touched his arm. ‘My condolences, sir. How very sad for you and the children.’
‘Yes.’ He sighed. ‘The children need Miss Tilson to return to them.’
‘I do understand,’ she assured him. ‘You found her services satisfactory?’
He smiled again. ‘She was an angel!’
That would not be Agnes’s description of her. Obviously the men who hired her saw her much differently. In Sir Orin’s case, though, this might be the answer she’d been hoping for.
‘Until your letter, I did not know where Miss Tilson had gone,’ he said. ‘I am very indebted to you.’
‘I confess, I wished to know more about her,’ Agnes told him. ‘For the children’s sake. I was not involved in hiring her—’ She broke off. ‘But I should tell you I am betrothed to Lord Brookmore, so soon it will be my duty to take care of such matters.’
Agnes asked him more questions, keeping an eye on the doorway for Brookmore’s return.
‘I am so sympathetic to your plight, sir,’ she said. ‘To have no one. At least Brookmore’s nieces have me. I will do what I can for you, but you must let no one know that I sent that letter.’
He gave her a shrewd look. ‘It is a bargain, Lady Agnes.’
* * *
Rebecca and the children knelt by a bed of sweet alyssum, watching a bumblebee dart from one tiny white flower to another. She looked up at the sound of footsteps.
A footman hurried up to them. ‘Miss Tilson, you have a caller.’
‘A caller! For Miss Tilson!’ Ellen parroted excitedly. She jumped to her feet. ‘Let us go see who it is!’
Rebecca rose as well, her heart pounding. Who would call upon her? She knew no one here.
‘The caller is for Miss Tilson, not you,’ Pamela chided her little sister.
‘I want to see who it is!’ Ellen cried.
Rebecca brushed off her skirt. ‘I had better go alone. You children stay in the garden. I’ll be back in a few minutes.’
She could not imagine this taking long. It must be a mistake.
She followed the footman back to the house. When she entered the front door, Lord Brookmore waited there for her.
‘Who is it calling upon me?’ she asked him.
He did not look happy about this visitor. ‘Your former employer.’
‘My employer?’ Claire’s employer, he meant. A man? A woman? She did not know who to expect. What to expect. Would her masquerade be exposed?
‘He is in the hall,’ Lord Brookmore told her.
He. A man. That answered one question. But she did not even know his name.
She pulled off her hat and walked into the hall, legs trembling.
A red-haired man, talking with Lady Agnes, glanced over at her and broke into a smile. ‘Claire!’ he cried.
Lady Agnes gave Rebecca a knowing look. ‘I will leave you two.’ She nodded to the man. ‘A pleasure to speak with you, Sir Orin.’
Sir Orin. Sir Orin was his name.
Rebecca remained where she was as Lady Agnes swept by her. Sir Orin strode over to her.
‘Claire, it is so good to see you.’ He reached out to touch her, but she stepped back.
She came directly to the point. ‘Why do you call upon me?’
‘You must know why.’ His eyes scanned her from head to toe in a manner that made her skin crawl.
‘I do not. I wish you to tell me,’ she demanded.
Goodness. She was not acting like Claire, was she? Claire would not have demanded anything. Rebecca needed to be direct, though. The less time he was with her, the better the chance of him not seeing she was not Claire.
‘When I just discovered your whereabouts, I came right away.’ He moved closer to her.
She stepped back again.
‘My wife is dead, Claire,’ he told her excitedly. ‘You must come home with me now.’
A frisson of alarm crawled up her spine. He sounded almost happy about his wife dying.
Oh, why had she not asked Claire about her employment in Ireland? She’d certainly filled Claire’s ear about her situation. She’d never thought to ask Claire anything about hers.
Rebecca tried to remain calm. ‘I am employed here now, Sir Orin. I am content here.’
His eyes flashed with anger, but he quickly altered his demeanour and lowered his voice. ‘The children need you. I need you. You must come.’
Rebecca looked him in the eye. ‘I choose to stay here. You must find another governess for the children.’ She had no idea how many children he had. Boys? Girls? Their names? She knew nothing.
‘Let me persuade you.’ He looked at her entreatingly.
‘No.’ She stepped back again. ‘I am very sorry you travelled all this way, but you should not have come. I am not going back to Ireland.’
‘It does not have to be Ireland, my dear,’ he purred. ‘I can move the children to England. Anywhere you desire.’
My dear? This intimate tone unnerved her. So did his use of Claire’s Christian name. Claire, what happened to you there? With this man? she asked silently.
‘I have given you my answer.’
‘How may I change that answer, my dear?’ he murmured. ‘I must change your mind.’
This man looked harmless enough, but his words and manner made the hairs on Rebecca’s neck rise.
She raised her voice. ‘My position is here now. I do not wish to discuss this further.’
‘Claire, you must let me persuade you!’ he pleaded, extending his hand.
She turned away. ‘Please leave now.’
‘But—’ he began.
A voice from the doorway broke in. ‘She has asked you to leave, sir.’
Lord Brookmore must have been standing there. Rebecca’s shoulders relaxed in relief.
Sir Orin did not move, however.
Lord Brookmore repeated, ‘You must leave. Now.’
Lady Agnes stepped into the hall, walking up to Sir Orin. ‘Come. I will walk you out.’ She took his arm and he left with her.
Lord Brookmore turned and watched them leave before speaking to Rebecca. ‘I could not hear your conversation, if you are wondering. Something about him... I did not think you should see him alone.’
She was grateful to him. Excessively. ‘It was nothing. He came for nothing.’
‘He upset you,’ Brookmore said.
She wanted so badly to ask for his comfort. She wanted him to hold her and tell her Sir Orin would never bother her again and she would never have to worry about her deception being exposed.
But she could not ask him for comfort. Lady Agnes was here now.
Rebecca waved a hand. ‘He wants me to be his children’s governess again.’
‘And what do you want?’ he asked.
She met his gaze. ‘I wish to remain here.’<
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* * *
Lady Agnes walked Sir Orin all the way out the front door where no one could hear them.
‘Best you not press her now,’ she told the dejected man.
‘I am determined to have her back.’ He put on his hat and pulled his gloves over his fingers.
‘Then you must try another day.’ Agnes certainly was not ready to give up. ‘Where are you staying, sir?’
‘Ambleside. The Unicorn Inn,’ he said.
She nodded. ‘Enjoy your stay there. I will contact you soon, I promise. Do not lose hope.’
He smiled charmingly. ‘I am so very grateful to you, Lady Agnes. I am obviously in need of an ally.’
‘As am I.’ She returned his smile. ‘I should tell you she rides early every morning, but do not make use of that information tomorrow. Give her a day or so.’
‘She rides?’ He looked puzzled. ‘I had no inkling she was a horsewoman.’
‘She is quite enamoured of the out of doors, actually.’ Anything to do with the farm.
‘Is she?’ His brows rose. ‘That is a change. I can see there is more to discover about Claire Tilson.’
‘She did not spend her time out of doors with your children?’ Agnes asked.
‘Not at all,’ he responded. ‘Oh, she took the occasional walk, but most days she closeted herself in the schoolroom with the children.’
This was curious indeed, Agnes thought. Of course, she could favour the out of doors because that was where Brookmore was likely to be, working on the farm like a common labourer.
Sir Orin brightened. ‘Perhaps I can entice her back with some prime horseflesh!’
‘An excellent idea.’ Extravagant gifts never hurt.
‘I will work on that.’ He tipped his hat to her. ‘You have been very helpful, Lady Agnes. I will remember all you have told me.’
He headed down the lane leading to the gate. How gauche to have walked from Ambleside.
She went back into the house and joined Brookmore and Miss Tilson in the hall. ‘I’ve sent him on his way,’ she told them.
Miss Tilson actually looked grateful. ‘Thank you, Lady Agnes.’ She released a breath. ‘I am much relieved.’ She slid a glance to Brookmore before turning back to Agnes. ‘I really should get back to the children. Will you both excuse me?’
