by Joan Smith
He lit his pipe, sat back comfortably against the padded chair and settled in, as though for a long visit. “I have decided to take Bobby to the family pew with me for church tomorrow. He might as well get used to using his horn in public, and the local folks might as well get used to seeing it.”
“He is young enough that it won’t bother him.”
“That is exactly the idea. I am curious to learn how effective it is outside of a small room, with a close speaker. Unfortunate that his first public outing must be for a church sermon. That is unlikely to capture his attention. We’ll take him to see a children’s play in London when we go to consult the specialist there. Mrs. Palin looks forward to going to London with us. It will be an opportunity for you to visit your uncle while we are there.”
“Was Mrs. Palin very happy to learn of Bobby’s progress?” I asked.
“She is excited. She will go to the nursery tomorrow to see for herself. She is fatigued after her journey, and has retired early this evening.”
“How soon will we be going to London?”
“I have written to my uncle asking him to make inquiries for me regarding the best man to see my son. As soon as I have his answer, I shall make an appointment and go. Within a few weeks, I should think. You did not think, when you left the city, that you would be returning so soon.”
“I am not lonesome, Mr. Palin. I have found friends here, and plenty to keep me busy.”
“I am happy to hear it. It is one of my prime concerns now to keep you happy, so you will stay with us. It is of great importance to give my son a sense of security, the feeling only a mother, or a beloved stand-in, can give. A father, who must be away from him most of the day, is not enough. My mother died when I was young, like Bobby’s. My father never remarried, which is why I was an only child. I was very much attached to my nanny as a result. Mrs. Steyne, I am speaking of. She married after I went away to school, but after I grew up and came back, her husband had died, so I arranged with my father to make her the housekeeper here at the Park. She was almost like a mother to me. Perhaps one day you will be housekeeper here for Bobby.”
“I don’t like to have my whole life arranged at one sitting!” I objected.
He laughed an apology. “Am I going too fast for you? Perhaps it is best to take one day at a time. Anything might happen. I hope you will not take it into your head to go and get married before he is a little grown up at least.”
“I can guarantee I won’t be getting married this year, Mr. Palin.”
“But it is December already, Bingie!” he countered. “Can’t you give us more time than that?”
“One day at a time!”
“This selfishness is a family failing. Forgive me. Now let us speak of something else. There is a rumor running around the prime minister is going to fire the foreign minister, at our queen’s behest, no doubt. I believe she is reverting to the divine right of kings, and queens, in her thinking.”
We discussed politics for a while—really, he explained the situation to me, for I was somewhat cut off from worldly events since leaving London. When I expressed an interest, however, he said he would leave the newspapers in the library, where I could feel free to take them. “An intelligent girl like you, we do not want you to sink into a provincial,” he said.
When I took my leave, he came to the door and held it open for me. I turned to go back to the kitchen. From the corner of my eye, I saw a figure, toward the saloon. It was Martin, standing immobile, gazing at me like an odalisque from her dark eyes. She walked forward sedately, slowly. “Madame forgot her vinaigrette in the saloon,” she said. Her eyes were hypnotic, holding me still till she had brushed past me, going toward the front staircase. I forgot to look at her hands, but I had an impression they were empty. It was odd she had bothered explaining her errand to me. I went on to the kitchen.
“Is she with him?” Cook asked. “She” was Mrs. Palin.
“No, she is tired from the trip, and has gone to her room.”
“Unnatural woman,” Cook scolded.
“You don’t know the half of it,” Bess said, in a meaningful way. I longed to quiz her, but with her bold eyes examining me, I ignored the remark, and poured myself tea instead.
“What do you mean, Bess?” Molly asked.
I sat down with my cup and poured milk, while looking from the crevice of my eye. Bess twitched her shoulders saucily. “She is unnatural. As often as not the door between their two rooms is locked when I go to make up the beds. There’s two of them to be made every morning. He never ruffles her sheets, and that’s a fact. It didn’t used to be that way. I’m beginning to wonder if he hasn’t got a dolly hidden off somewhere.”
“It’s none of your business, Bess,” Cook told her.
“Making beds is my business. I never before worked in a house of newlyweds where the door between their rooms was locked.”
“He was taken in by her,” Molly thought.
“She’s a handsome woman,” Cook pointed out.
“Handsome is as handsome does,” Molly countered. She never had forgiven that slap on the cheek.
“I could forgive her the rest if she was warmer toward the boy,” Cook said. “And if she hadn’t tried to get Mrs. Steyne turned off. Ah, but she caught cold at that. Master, he stands by us old hands.”
“He let me go to London to see my folks,” Molly said, smiling fondly.
“He’s taking Jane to London too, isn’t he, Jane?” Bess asked.
“Yes, to consult with the doctor about Bobby, to see what should be done for him. How did you know?”
“A little bird told me.”
“You’re a caution, Bess. Been listening at doors again. You ought to be ashamed of yourself,” Cook told her.
“I am, Cook. I’m ashamed Jane beat me out on him. I’m prettier. At least Mr. Rupert assures me I am. For some reason, I don’t seem to appeal to master. He liked Rosalie better than me too. I wonder if that’s who he goes to see?”
I stared, giving such a start the tea spilled over the rim and splashed on the table. “Did I hit a nerve, Jane? You thought you were the only one he had in his eye, outside of his wife, I mean?” Bess said, her eyes mocking, laughing at me.
She took my strong reaction for jealousy, but it was only astonishment. Surely Rosalie was not being kept in a love nest? What of the silver buttons? What of madame’s lying excuses? She was jealous; she would never be an accessory to his extramarital love life. Rosalie wouldn’t do such a thing, either. Would she? I was beginning to reassess the folly of a woman in love, now that I was coming to know firsthand passion’s power. I would have gone to Exeter with him, had he asked me; gone in the hope of some increased intimacy.
“Shall we go to the library and look for a book now, Molly?” I asked. I couldn’t bear to sit still another second.
Chapter Nineteen
I was surprised on Sunday morning to see madame enter her husband’s carriage for the trip to church. She wore a dark-green velveteen pardessus, full and floating. It was trimmed in sable. Looking at the family party from the seat in the servant’s gig, I was much struck at the handsome family they made. I was proud to see how very well my charge looked, holding onto his father’s hand, with his ear trumpet clutched in the other hand.
“Mrs. Palin doesn’t usually attend service on Sunday, does she?” I asked Molly.
“She does when she has a new outfit. I’ve never seen that one before. She must have got it while she was away on her visit.”
“It is very elegant.”
“She always looks fine as ninepence. I wonder if Mr. Rupert will be at church,” she asked then, with an arch smile.
This personage had slipped from my mind nearly entirely. I rather suspected he was seeing Bess again, but in any case he accosted me, wearing his best smile and a new wide-awake hat, which he lifted to make his bow. After a few facetious remarks, he asked me if I would drive out with him that afternoon, as it was such a fine day. I accepted in the line of duty.
I foresaw no pleasure from the drive.
Before Mr. Rupert came to call, Mrs. Palin came to the door of the nursery. “My husband tells me you have performed a small miracle, Jane,” she said brightly, smiling at Bobby. “Robert has been singing your praises to me all the way to church and back. It is a marvel the way Bobby progresses under your care.”
In his customary manner of behaving during his stepmother’s visits, Bobby turned his back on her and fled to the bookshelf. “I must have all the details,” she continued. “It is the most exciting news, and such a wonderful thing for Robert. Tell me how you discovered it, and how you have made such hasty headway. I declare it was like talking with another adult this morning, to hear him speak out in full sentences.” I really wondered that he had done so, when locked up in a carriage with her.
She drew up a chair beside mine. We sat down, but rational talk was impossible. Bobby began banging toys about, scowling at her, making it perfectly clear he resented her presence. I admonished him twice to behave, with very bad results. The noise and scowls only increased.
“Come along to my chamber. He is jealous to see me occupying your attention. We must not let him become a positive tyrant.”
I told him I was going with Mrs. Palin, and would be back soon. “No. Bingie not go,” he insisted, his little face turning red with vexation. He repeated this a few times, while grabbing my fingers to pull me back. I was annoyed at his display of temper, for he had been behaving so well of late.
It was clear from madame’s expression she wanted to box his ears. To tell the truth, I felt a similar inclination myself. I had no desire to turn him into an arrogant, ill-mannered little dictator. “Behave yourself, Bobby. I shall be back shortly,” I said, turning to leave.
“Bad Gina!” he called after us. A book was heard to hit the floor as we departed.
“I hope you have not created a monster, like Mrs. Shelley!” she said, but she was not serious, nor very angry. She seemed happy with my success. I went behind her into her room, feeling again that smothering sensation at the view of all her feminine luxury.
Madame sat at her mahogany desk, while I was bade to take up a padded bergère chair beside her. “We little thought, when you invited us to the nursery a short while ago, how quickly you would progress with Bobby,” she began. “Robert calls it a miracle. I must confess I have not seen such evidence of progress as he speaks of, for the child has always been a little strange with me. Is it true he speaks quite coherently? I noticed some improvement in the carriage on the way to church. His father said he had done much better when they were alone.”
“He is making rapid progress. Perhaps his father is a little overzealous in his praise. I do believe his only handicap is his defective hearing. Now that we are aware of it, progress should be good.”
“The device Robert got helps, does it?”
“To a certain extent. Mr. Palin intends taking him to an expert in London, as I am sure he has told you.”
“It is all he speaks of now, plans to advance his son’s progress. You will come to London with us, of course. I quite insist on it. It will be a chance to visit your family—an uncle, is it?”
“Yes, I have an uncle there.”
“Where does he live?”
I selected a middle-class neighborhood quite at random, knowing her interest was not great. We discussed the child’s regime for about fifteen minutes. She expressed concern at the speed with which Mr. Palin had got him a pony, but overall she showed great joy at the turn events had taken. Bobby was a handsome child; I thought she would not dislike having him about, now that he was becoming an asset, rather than a liability. I could not really like her, under the circumstances of our relationship, but at such times, I disliked her less. She did show an interest in her husband and the boy. She liked finery pretty well, but a poor girl catapulted into riches might well overindulge herself at first. She was pretty, and lively, and seemed intelligent. From our talk, I took the notion she wanted to ingratiate herself with Bobby.
“I must spend more time with him,” she said. “We have never got on at all well, as you cannot have failed to notice.”
“That is unfortunate.”
“The stupidest thing really. I was raised very strictly at home. When I misbehaved, I was punished. Before I realized—early on, you know, when we thought he was normal—he picked up a very favorite and expensive ornament of mine, a Sèvres vase it was, a gift from my grandmother, and threw it deliberately on the floor in a fit of temper. I slapped him. No more than a tap, and no more than he deserved, but he has never forgiven nor forgotten. I have been ‘Bad Gina’ from that day on. Believing him to be quite mad, I never took the interest in him that I would have done had I thought him normal. In fact, when he became so violent a few months ago, I suggested Robert have him put away. I was afraid he would hurt his nursemaid. He hit her on the head with a croquet mallet one day. It was probably an accident, but such incidents upset his father greatly.”
“Mr. Palin mentioned that violence, but I have never seen any signs of it.”
“Now that we know he is normal, I shall be at pains to come to terms with him. There will never be that closeness between us that would exist were he my own flesh and blood. He has that with his father, and also a very good relationship with you, Jane. I mean to be a model stepmother, however, and try if I cannot win some affection. It bothers my husband that we do not get along.”
“He is a sweet, affectionate child. You will not have much difficulty,” I offered hopefully, though in my heart, I still had doubts.
“You must help me. Let me have him for an hour occasionally in the afternoons. I shall take him for walks and drives. A pity the weather is so poor.”
Some of my reluctance for this scheme was no doubt evident on my face. I felt that insisting Bobby spend time with someone he disliked would do him no good at this time. He was always upset after seeing her. “There is so much we are trying to do right now. He has a good deal of catching up to do,” I said.
She looked at me—angry, I thought, but when she spoke, her tone was more offended that angry. “I love him too,” she said. “Don’t hamper my efforts to make him like me. I want to please my husband.” Her face brightened then. “You will be rewarded for your success, Jane. I know Robert has increased your salary, but I want to give you something too.”
“You have already given me a beautiful shawl, ma’am,” I reminded her. A beautiful mohair shawl, that was put away in the bottom drawer of my dresser, unseen and unappreciated. Why did I have the feeling she was bribing me to let her have Bobby’s time?
“Oh, that’s nothing,” she said, batting it away with a flutter other white hands. “I refer to something of permanent value—some jewelry, perhaps.”
I could not stop my eyes from widening, or a look of consternation from alighting on my face. I could feel it; but I could not stop it. Mrs. Palin paid no heed. She looked toward the door, where there was some slight sound. “Someone is listening at the door!” she said, cocking her head to listen more closely, and raising a hand in an instinctive command for silence.
She rose up from her chair and glided, swiftly and silently, to the door, throwing it open wide. The person who was there may have been listening, but I doubt he heard a thing. It was Bobby, standing with his arms akimbo. “Bingie come now,” he demanded.
Mrs. Palin smiled in relief. “It is only the child.” She laughed. “You may as well go along with him, Jane.” She patted Bobby’s curls affectionately. He pulled away, staring malevolently.
It was an awkward moment, but my strongest feeling was one of relief. I was happy to escape the scented bower. As I traversed the hall back to the nursery, I found it odd she had suspected someone to be listening at her chamber door. The sound, so minute I had not heard it till she pointed it out, might more likely have been someone passing by, or even approaching to knock and enter in the normal fashion.
“Suspicion always haunts a guilty mind,” the old line from S
hakespeare, darted into my head. Of whom was she suspicious? I was the only one who had any reason to wish her harm. Martin was her trusted cohort, Mr. Palin her faithful husband. Bess? She had been known to haunt a keyhole.
Afraid that Mrs. Palin would impose herself on Bobby while I was out for my drive with Mr. Rupert, I saw him safely to the stable before leaving. One of the younger grooms there was seeing to his lessons when Mr. Palin was busy. My outing was not particularly pleasant. The weather was too chilly to really enjoy a drive in an open carriage. I could think of no further questions to ask him regarding Rosalie. It was he who did the questioning on that occasion.
“I hear in the village the young Palin fellow is deaf, and here we have been taking him for a natural idiot all this while.”
The casual nature of the question was offensive. I bristled up to defend my charge. “Do you actually think that you will be able to teach him to talk normally, to learn to read and write and so on?” he asked, unbelieving.
“He is very bright, Mr. Rupert. Deafness has never been any impediment to normal development once it has been diagnosed and treated as best it can be. Of course he will learn to read and write when the time comes.”
“You need not be angry with me, Miss Bingham. The whole village knows they planned to have him put away not too long ago.”
“It was mentioned as a possibility, not planned, Mr. Rupert.”
“I had quite a different opinion from speaking to Mrs. Palin, whom I met occasionally at social functions.”
“I did not realize you knew her.”
“I met her here and there at parties. Company is thin enough in the country that fellows like me who happen to possess a proper suit are invited to the ton do’s when they need an extra partner. She’s a cold woman. I don’t care for her much.”
