by Dilly Court
Eloise could hardly believe her ears. 'I am to look after Maria?'
'The child is spoilt beyond hope, but this is your last chance. Don't think you are getting off lightly, though. In the mornings you will help Phoebe in the nursery and you will do some night duties there also. You will earn your keep, Monk. Believe me, you will earn it.'
It was a reprieve that had come out of the blue, and Eloise could have cried with relief. The sudden change in her circumstances meant that not only were they secure for the foreseeable future, but she would be able to spend more time with her children. It seemed too good to be true.
That afternoon, when she had finished helping Phoebe feed the little ones, Eloise went across the yard to the governor's house. A young maidservant showed her into the square, white painted entrance hall, where a flight of stairs rose opposite the main entrance. The polished mahogany banisters glowed warmly red in the sunlight streaming through the fanlight above the front door, and the feeling of warmth was echoed in the rich red carpet on the floor and stairs. On either side of the hall there were two doors and the maid opened one, ushering Eloise into the drawing room where Maria was sitting at a pianoforte, idly prodding the keys. She jumped off the stool as Eloise entered the room. 'You've come. I was afraid you wouldn't.'
Eloise took off her bonnet and shawl. 'Of course I came. Your papa has asked me to look after you in the afternoons, after you have finished your lessons in the schoolroom.'
'You won't stay long,' Maria said, shaking her head. 'No one does. They say I am a spoilt brat and then they leave.'
Eloise smothered a chuckle, keeping her face straight with difficulty. 'Perhaps I have more staying power than the rest.'
'I don't know what that is,' Maria admitted. 'But I am wayward and my papa spoils me because he can't be bothered to say no. He is too busy to take much notice of me, and he misses my mama. That's her portrait over the fireplace. Everyone says that I look just like her, but it was my fault that she died.'
Shocked, Eloise could hardly believe what she was hearing. She glanced at the portrait of the lovely young woman who smiled down at them with self-assured charm, and she shook her head. 'That is just not true, Maria. You were not to blame for your mother's death. It was just one of those sad and unfortunate circumstances, but it was not your fault. As to your father being too busy to notice you, that may be true in part, but I know he loves you and he wants the best for you.'
'Oh, well, perhaps he does,' Maria said, shrugging her shoulders.
'Of course he does.'
'And he likes you too, Ellen.'
It was said artlessly enough, but Eloise felt the blood rush to her cheeks. 'I hope I won't disappoint him. You and I will work well together and that will make him happy.'
Maria angled her head. 'I don't like sewing and I hate practising scales. I get very cross when people make me do either hateful thing.'
'Then I suggest we do something else. Perhaps you would like to visit the British Museum?'
'Do you mean that we can go out for a walk?'
Eloise smiled. 'Of course.'
Maria grabbed her by the hand, dragging her towards the doorway. 'Come to my room and I'll show you where my clothes are kept. I have a new bonnet and a coat with a cape on it and a matching muff trimmed with fur.'
Eloise allowed herself to be led upstairs to the first floor landing. Maria scampered along ahead of her pointing to the doors as she ran past them. 'That is my papa's bedroom, and that is his study. My room overlooks the hospital gardens, which is where I first saw you. The servants have rooms up on the top floor. Miss Trinder's room is empty now. Perhaps you could have it and then you'd be here all the time. I shall ask Papa when he comes home this evening.'
'No, that won't be necessary,' Eloise said hastily. 'I have to do night duty in the nursery, but it was a kind thought, Maria.'
'Well, I might need you in the night,' Maria said, pouting and stamping her foot. 'I have bad dreams sometimes and I wake up crying. I want you to live here with us.'
'I shan't stay at all if you behave like this.'
Maria blinked and stared at Eloise. It was quite obvious that she was unused to being challenged, and Eloise met her angry gaze without flinching.
'You won't leave me?' Maria's voice quavered and her lips trembled.
'Not if you behave like the nice little girl that I know you to be.'
'I will try to be good, but it's not easy.'
'No, but I'm sure you can do it if you try.' Eloise smiled sympathetically. There was something about Maria that touched her to the core, putting her in mind of herself when she had been of a similar age. What a difficult and wayward child she must have been to have earned the severe reprimands that she had received from her father. Mama had been so patient and understanding, but Papa had always been quick to point out her failings, and Eloise had spent many hours locked in her bedroom where she was supposed to contemplate her sins. She smiled as Maria put on her new hat and admired her reflection in the mirror. 'That looks delightful. If you find that smart coat you were telling me about, we'll go to the museum.'
After an uneventful afternoon, when Maria was quite obviously on her best behaviour and out to impress Eloise, they arrived back at the governor's house in time for tea. Jessie, the maidservant, had set the meal out in the morning parlour and Maria sat demurely eating bread and butter, while she kept an eye on the plate of small fancy cakes which Mrs Dean had baked. She stuffed the last morsel of bread into her mouth and her small hand shot out for the cakes; then she hesitated. 'I've eaten my bread and butter, Ellen. Now may I have a cake?'
Eloise nodded her assent.
'And you will tell Papa that I have been a very good girl?'
'Of course.'
'I believe I heard the front door open,' Maria cried, dropping the cake on her plate. 'You can tell him now, Ellen.' Without waiting for permission to leave the table, she jumped up and ran to the door. 'Papa, come here.'
Caine strode into the room, but as Eloise made to rise to her feet he motioned her to sit down. 'Don't get up.' He lifted Maria off the ground, kissed her on the forehead and then set her back on her feet. 'Go and ask Mrs Dean to send in a fresh pot of tea and another cup for me, please, Maria.'
'Why not ring the bell for Jessie, Papa?' Maria demanded with an impudent smile.
He gave her a gentle push towards the door. 'Because I want a few words with Miss Monk in private. Now do as you're told, poppet.'
Maria flounced out of the room and Caine took a seat opposite Eloise. She caught her breath, wondering what he could have to say that could not be said in front of his daughter. Perhaps Miss Marchant had been causing mischief again?
'Don't look so alarmed, Ellen. I just wanted to know how you got on with Maria this afternoon.'
Eloise breathed a sigh of relief, and she smiled. 'Perfectly well, sir. She was on her best behaviour.'
'Jessie tells me that you took her to the museum.'
'Yes, sir.'
He said nothing for a moment and then he rose from his seat and walked over to the fireplace, resting one hand on the mantelshelf and staring down into the flames. 'Ellen, you are something of a mystery. I know almost nothing of your background.'
'There is not much to tell, sir.'
He turned his head to give her a piercing look. 'If I am to entrust my daughter to your care, I must know a little more about you. For instance, it bothers me that an educated young woman like yourself should be in such a dire situation that she is prepared to undertake almost any kind of work merely to put a roof over her head.'
'Circumstances change, sir.'
'Damn it, woman. Will you never give me a straight answer?'
Eloise rose to her feet, facing him angrily. 'I don't think my personal life is any of your concern, sir. As long as I do my work well and my behaviour does not give rise to concern, then quite frankly I don't see that my past has anything to do with you.'
'It has everything to do with me if I am to
pay your wages. I might even be giving shelter to a felon.'
'I've done nothing wrong. Now, if you don't mind, it's time for me to return to the nursery or I will be in trouble with Matron.' She turned to leave the parlour, but Caine caught her by the wrist.
'You have fobbed me off with half-truths for long enough. Who are you really, Ellen Monk? Is that your real name, or is that a lie too?'
Eloise stared down at his fingers banding her wrist in a grip of steel and she felt her anger replaced by a mixture of conflicting emotions. She raised her eyes to his face and the expression in his eyes compelled her to tell him the truth, in part at least. 'I am a seafarer's widow, Mr Caine. My husband was lost at sea and I have no alternative but to earn my own living.'
'Have you no family or friends to whom you could turn?'
'No, sir.'
'I'm truly sorry to hear it, but why couldn't you tell me that in the first place? What else are you hiding? You can trust me, Ellen. I might even be able to help you.'
Eloise turned her head away. The desire to confide in him was almost overwhelming, but she simply dared not put her trust in this man. She had a sneaking suspicion that once he knew the true facts he might agree with her father, and in common with most men in a position of authority, he would be convinced that his opinion was the right one. She could not take the risk that he might think that Joss would benefit from the kind of upbringing that the Cribbs could give him. What did a mere man know about a mother's love for her children? Caine might have doted on his beautiful young wife, and have a deep affection for his only child, but he would always follow his head and not his heart.
Eloise met his searching gaze with a stubborn stare. 'Absolutely nothing, Mr Caine. I am not hiding anything.'
He released her wrist as if the touch of her flesh had burnt his fingers. 'I don't believe you, Ellen.'
'I'm sorry, sir.'
'I am sorry too. Trust is the most important factor in any relationship, whether it is personal or professional. If you can't trust me enough to tell me the truth about yourself, I'm afraid I can't continue to employ you in this institution where there are vulnerable young children, to say nothing of my own daughter.'
'I have nothing more to say, sir.'
'Then I have no alternative other than to terminate your employment. You will leave here first thing in the morning.'
Chapter Nineteen
Eloise rubbed her wrist as if trying to smooth away the imprint of his fingers, but the warmth of his touch still lingered on her flesh, and it was oddly disturbing. She stared at him dazedly for a moment, as the full impact of his words hit her with a physical force taking the breath from her lungs. Despite his angry stance, there was a puzzled look in his eyes and a flicker of something that she could not quite understand. It felt as though he was silently urging her to confess everything, but she could not. She dared not. She turned away and walked slowly towards the door. Each step was difficult, like wading knee deep in water. Tomorrow morning she would have to leave the security of the Foundling Hospital, and no matter what, she would be taking Joss and Beth with her. But, as she realised with a deep sense of foreboding, it was not just the possibility of being homeless again that was distressing her. She had lost the good opinion of the man who had come to her aid when all had seemed lost, and whose approbation meant more than almost anything to her.
'Ellen. Wait.' Caine moved swiftly to her side. 'I spoke in anger and that was wrong of me. I don't pretend to understand why you have built this barrier around yourself, but I must respect your right to privacy.'
She hesitated, not trusting herself to speak.
'I want you to stay. I need you to stay. You have established a rapport with Maria where others have failed miserably. You work hard and whatever your reasons for keeping silent, I have no right to pry into your personal affairs.'
'I must get back to the nursery, sir.' Eloise went to pass him, but he barred her way. Reluctantly she raised her head to look him in the eyes. 'I have my reasons for keeping silent, but I promise you that no harm will come to any of the children in my care, least of all Maria.'
He opened his mouth to reply but a loud clattering outside the door made them both jump, effectively putting an end to the conversation as Maria clamoured to be admitted. Caine reached past Eloise to open the door and she was acutely aware of the heat emanating from his body and the scent of him filled her nostrils: cinnamon, cloves and sandalwood mixed with the heady aroma of a young and virile man. She was dizzy from the intoxicating smell and it stirred old longings that she thought were buried in the past.
Apparently oblivious to the confusion he had caused, Caine moved forward to take the tea tray from Maria. 'Well done, Maria, but you should have asked Jessie to carry it for you.'
'I knew I could do it, Papa. I wanted to show you that I could.' Maria danced into the room, glancing up at Eloise with a knowing look. 'What's the matter, Ellen? Has my papa been nasty to you?'
Eloise forced her dry lips into a smile. 'No, certainly not. Mr Caine has been most kind and understanding. Now I really must go.'
'You must stay and take tea with Papa,' Maria ordered. 'I say so.'
Caine set the tray on the table and his harsh expression melted into a smile that went straight to Eloise's heart. 'Won't you stay and have a cup of tea, Ellen? I'm sure Phoebe can manage on her own for a little longer.'
The clock on the mantelshelf struck six, bringing Eloise back to the present with a start. Phoebe would be putting the babies down to sleep and Eloise could not bear the thought of Beth lying in her cot without her mother to give her a goodnight kiss. She shook her head. 'I wish I could stay for tea, but I can't let Phoebe down. I will be here again tomorrow afternoon, Maria. That's a promise.'
Later that evening, when Eloise had climbed the last flight of stairs to the top floor of the hospital, she was bone weary and mentally exhausted. As she opened the door to the room she shared with Tibbie and Becky, a cloud of tobacco smoke caught her in the back of her throat causing her to cough. They were wearing their nightgowns and sitting cross-legged on their narrow beds, smoking hand-rolled cigarettes.
'Shut the door,' Becky cried, exhaling a cloud of blue smoke into the rafters. 'Matron will kill us if she finds out we're smoking.'
Tibbie held out a tobacco tin. 'Want to make one, Ellen? You look as though you could do with a smoke. It clears your head and it don't stain like snuff.'
'No, thank you,' Eloise went to sit on her bed and began unbuttoning her boots. 'I'm really tired and all I want is to sleep.'
'So how did you get on with the guv?' Tibbie demanded.
'I hardly saw him. I was with Maria all afternoon. We went to the British Museum.'
'Hmm. It's all right for some.' Becky flicked ash from her cigarette into the chamber pot. 'But you must have seen Mr Caine. He's got his eye on you, girl. Play your cards right and you could end up sitting pretty.'
'Lying flat on her back pretty, you mean,' Tibbie added, chuckling.
Eloise turned her head away to hide her blushes. 'I don't know what you're talking about.'
'Aw, come on, ducks,' Becky said, reaching across the narrow gap between the beds to nudge Eloise in the ribs. 'Why else would the guv pick you out above all the rest of us, if he didn't fancy you something rotten? The poor bloke's been on his own for six years and he's only human, or so I hear tell.' She dissolved in a fit of the giggles.
Tibbie ground out the remains of her cigarette in the tobacco-tin lid. 'Don't take no notice of her, Ellen. She's a vulgar cow. But she's got a point, ducks. Our Mr Caine has been a widower for a long time and so far as we know, and there ain't much that goes unnoticed round here, he's not had a lady friend since his wife died.'
'Well, I wouldn't kick him out of me bed,' Becky said, sliding beneath the covers and folding her arms behind her head. 'He's a good looking bloke and he can't be a day older than thirty. Next thing you know, Ellen, he'll have you moving into the spare room in his house. Then he'll be
paying you a visit in the middle of the night. Lucky cow.'
'Shut up and go to sleep, Becky.' Tibbie leaned over the side of her bed to blow out the candle. 'If he offers, you take it, Ellen. Girls like us don't get chances like that every day of the week.'
'Nor once a year in your case,' Becky sniggered.
Tibbie tossed a shoe at her, but it missed its target and hit the wall. On the other side someone thumped the thin partition with a few choice expletives, and then there was silence.
Eloise lay on her back, staring into the darkness and listening to the gradual onset of slow breathing as Tibbie and Becky drifted off to sleep. Their ribald remarks had disturbed her almost as much as the realisation that she was deeply attracted to her employer. Her initial dislike of him had changed so subtly that she had not even noticed the warning signs. She might find him aloof and autocratic, but she had also seen a hint of tenderness and humour lurking beneath the frosty façade. He was undoubtedly a complicated man, but she had also sensed a loneliness of spirit in him that was so akin to her own that it was frightening. The physical attraction must have been there all along, but she had been in denial. She had thought that Ronnie was the love of her life and that she could never feel the same way about another man. Hadn't she said as much to Reggie when she spurned his offer of marriage? She had believed it then, but she knew now that it was untrue. Barton Caine had stirred up emotions and longings that she had thought were a thing of the past, and that made him a dangerous person to be near. He had shown her a degree of partiality, but that did not mean that he harboured tender feelings for her. Perhaps what the girls said was nearer the mark. Caine was a man who had lost the wife he adored six years ago, and he was either looking for a surrogate mother for Maria, or a willing woman who would warm his bed and expect nothing in return. She, Eloise Monkham-Cribb, was neither of those things and her first priority was, and always would be, her children. Her heart and mind might cry out for love and the companionship of a man, but she was also painfully aware that she had a duty to her parents. Mama would probably understand, but her father would never speak to her again if she lived with Caine as his mistress. When they returned to England she wanted to meet both her parents with her head held high and her reputation intact.
