To Walk in the Sun (Wiggons' School for Elegant Young Ladies - Book 1)

by Charles, Jane

  * * *

  Vincent fell onto his bed. That was not well done of him. He was simply curious as to if she would be replacing her clothing. Any woman of his former acquaintance would have had a seamstress here the moment the sun rose the day after losing all of their belongings. Yet here was Miss Crawford, still in the same dress as if she never gave it a thought.

  No matter what he said, his words came out as an insult. And then he complimented the colors of her injury. Worse, he mentioned the possibility of a scar. No, not well done of him at all.

  He rose and walked to the decanter of brandy. The pounding in his head made it impossible to fully concentrate. He had hoped to meet no one on his journey from the library, especially her. But there she was, right in his path and he said the first things that came to mind. It would have been better to walk by without comment. Yet, he could not do that after last night.

  After a sound sleep and when the pain was gone, he would seek Miss Crawford out and apologize.

  As to her wardrobe, he hoped she would soon purchase a new night gown, and a very thick robe to wear over it. Slippers would not be remiss either. Then, when Miss Crawford wandered the halls late at night, she would be sufficiently covered so as not to tempt him.

  Vincent laughed then tossed back the drink. The woman could be covered from head to toe in sackcloth and he would still desire her.

  As to the scar, it could be an inch thick and cover the length of her forehead and doubted it would take away from her attractive face or sultry eyes.

  Vincent groaned and poured more brandy in his glass. He should not, under any circumstances, think of Miss Crawford as attractive, interesting, or any other manner of adjectives. With luck, the teachers and the students would be gone from this house in a few months and he would never have to lay eyes on them again. Besides, what could come of a relationship with Miss Crawford? He was a person of the night and she needed to bloom in the sun.

  * * *

  The girls were assembled around the long dining room table enjoying their breakfast when Tess walked in. She filled a plate from the sideboard and took a seat by Claudia. “I need to go into town this morning,” Tess announced.

  Mrs. Wiggons looked up at her. “Why is that?”

  Tess gestured to her bodice. “I need to replace my wardrobe.”

  The headmistress looked at Tess’s dress and sniffed her nose in disgust. “Yes, I can see that.”

  “Will I be able to replace my clothing also, Miss Crawford?” Eliza asked. The poor girl had lost her possessions as well, but at least she was able to borrow from Rosemary.

  “Yes, and anyone else who is in need.”

  “If I may be so bold,” Wesley stepped into the room. “I have taken it upon myself to invite the local modiste to visit here later this morning.”

  Stunned, Tess looked up at him. “That is very kind of you, Wesley, but I don’t want to be an inconvenience. The girls and I can go into town.”

  “Nonsense,” he dismissed. “Besides, I made the arrangements on the morning of your arrival, in anticipation of your needs.”

  The teachers shared a surprised look. Tess turned to the valet. “Then I thank you, Wesley. Please let me know when she arrives.”

  Wesley bowed and quit the room. The girls returned to their meal.

  “Miss Crawford?” Sophia asked.

  “Yes.”

  “When a person is buried, are they wearing their shoes?”

  Stunned silence surrounded the table and all of the girls looked at her expectantly. “I honestly have no idea,” Tess answered after a few moments. And, it was certainly something she had ever thought of, nor cared to think about.

  * * *

  Tess dismissed the girls and settled into the chair behind Atwood’s desk. Her first history lesson outside of the school had been a trial. Her students were too excited about the room, the books and the strange gentleman who took them in to concentrate on the Orient. Well, in time they will become comfortable with their surroundings.

  At first it seemed odd to have their lessons in here, but this is where the books were. And, she did teach literature as well as history and she no longer had access to the study materials from the school. The Orient had been the first topic that occurred to her when she found the four volume set of books on China.

  She glanced up when there was a knock on the door. “Yes?”

  Wesley stepped in. “The modiste has arrived.”

  Tess stood and walked around the desk. “Thank you. Where have you put her?”

  “In your chamber, Miss Crawford.”

  She stopped in her tracks. “That will not do, Wesley. We cannot be on that floor during the day.”

  Wesley rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest. “Lord Atwood will not be disturbed. It is the largest room available for all of the material, and it is the most private.”

  Tess had to agree with him in regard to privacy. She did not relish stripping down to her one, worn chemise in the parlor.

  Tess mounted the stairs and Wesley followed. How very odd.

  He continued to trail her down the hall and into her room. Surely he didn’t plan on staying. Tess turned to look at him and opened her mouth to speak.

  He was looking around the room and not at her. “Ah, I see the other young ladies have arrived as well.” He stepped further into room. “Mrs. McGregor, I knew I could trust you to bring the perfect colors.”

  “How could I go wrong when you described their coloring with such expertise?” Mrs. McGregor, the modiste blushed.

  “This yellow is perfect for Miss Weston.” Wesley picked up the pale yellow cotton fabric and draped it across Eliza’s shoulder. “Yes perfect. See how the shade brings out the highlights in her auburn hair.”

  Tess turned and looked around the room. Yes, this was the room she had been assigned temporarily. The girls were familiar. However, this must be some type of dream. No man she had ever encountered would ever be so familiar with women’s fashions or what color looked best on them.

  “And this green, why, I couldn’t have chosen a more perfect shade to compliment her eyes.”

  Mrs. McGregor blushed deeper and smiled. Eliza was torn between being thrilled at being the center of attention, if the light in her eyes was any indication, and being appalled at having a man drape material on her, if her rigid stance meant anything.

  Tess didn’t know what to say. Wesley wasn’t doing anything inappropriate, just odd with the way he continued around the room and chose fabric for Eliza. When he had finished, Wesley crossed the room. Tess expected him to leave but instead, he stopped in front of her. His hand came up to cradle his face while his other supported his elbow. He cocked his head to the side and studied her as if she were a painting.

  “The silver, Mrs. McGregor.” He held out his hand and the seamstress placed a luxurious silk into his hand.

  “Oh, no. I have no need for such a fine material.” Tess began to step away.

  “Nonsense, Miss Crawford.” Wesley stopped her with a hand on her arm. He placed the silk across her shoulder. “Oh yes, this is perfect.” He turned to look at the seamstress.

  “Just lovely. It will make a beautiful ball gown.”

  “No, you misunderstand. I have no need for a ball gown. I teach school and only attend church on Sunday.”

  Wesley turned straighter. “My dear, are you saying you are not invited to the social functions in town?” He appeared appalled at the idea.

  “I am a teacher. I am not part of society.” Tess smiled at him.

  “Well that is just sad,” Wesley said and Tess expected him to tsk. He took the silk, folded it gently then picked up a bolt of dark blue. “Yes, this is lovely.”

  “It is a bit bold, don’t you think?” Tess had never worn anything so dark. Her clothing consisted of grays, pale yellow, light pink or green.

  “No, dear, it is perfect.”

  Tess looked to Mrs. McGregor. She smiled and nodded her head in agreement.

&n
bsp; “Oh, Miss Crawford, that is lovely on you,” Eliza gasped. “What other colors would you suggest, Wesley?” Eliza ran forward to test different fabrics against Tess’ hair, eyes and complexion.

  Soon, the other girls were helping. They laughed when an orange made her look green and then tested other colors that would look lovely on a blond, but ghastly on Tess. Even Wesley remained to enjoy the fun. It wasn’t as if any of them had been stripped to be measured yet. All the while different materials were put into piles for Eliza, or Tess to be discarded.

  “May I ask what you are doing, on this floor, in the middle of the day?” Atwood roared.

  All activity stopped and everyone turned to the door that connected Atwoods’s room to hers.

  “I believe I made myself quite clear that this floor, especially this portion of the hall, closest to my room, would have silence during the day.

  Tess swallowed hard as she took in his stern features, angry eyes. So different from the night before. This was the gentleman she was familiar with. At least he was dressed. How horrible would it be if he appeared as he had yesterday, wearing only a robe.

  “I apologize. I know we should have tried to be quieter.”

  “What is going on in here?” He scanned the room. It must look like a complete disaster with material of every color possible spread out around the room. “Couldn’t this have been done somewhere else?” His focus landed on Wesley.

  “Sir, I am the one who suggested this room.”

  Atwood scowled at him.

  Tess looked over at the girls, hoping they remained quiet or were not too intimidated by Atwood’s presence. Instead of cowering, as she anticipated, Eliza was straining to look past Lord Atwood and into his room. What did she hope to discover? She would have to keep an eye on the girl. Any of them having an interest in Lord Atwood’s bedchamber was extremely dangerous.

  “It was the most appropriate for the size we needed,” Wesley attempted to explain.

  Atwood crossed his arms over his chest, his feet braced apart. A stance Tess suspected a captain would take on his ship. “How long?”

  Tess looked back at Wesley. “It should not be much longer. Mrs. McGregor only needs to measure the young women and then they will be gone.”

  Atwood walked to the bed and fingered the silver silk then looked over at Tess. “I would listen to all of Wesley’s suggestions. Veronica never purchased anything without his approval.” He turned abruptly and walked back to the door. “See that this task is completed soon,” Atwood barked before he closed the door none too gently.

  “Who is Veronica?” Eliza whispered to one of the other girls.

  “Lord Atwood’s dearly departed wife,” Mrs. McGregor answered.

  Wesley turned to the ladies and clapped his hands. “Chop, chop. We’ve not much time.” He turned to the seamstress. “I will return to help you with the material when you are done, Mrs. McGregor.” With that he quit the room and closed the door behind him.

  * * *

  Vincent braced himself against the door. He couldn’t believe he had been awakened, again, by her. He had been ready to storm into the chamber but luckily heard the students giggle before he brought embarrassment to them all by appearing in only a robe. He took a few moments to toss on his britches and shirt.

  The sight he encountered stopped him short. Material and females everywhere, with the exception of Wesley, who was in his element. If it were possible for a man to be a modiste, Wesley would own the most prestigious and popular shop in London. Thank goodness it was unheard of because Vincent didn’t know what he would do without his valet.

  Vincent tossed of clothing and crawled back into bed. If Wesley were determining Miss Crawford’s wardrobe, she would look more beautiful than before. Of course, she had been wearing the same repaired and stained dress for three days so anything would be an improvement. But, Wesley had the ability to transform. Vincent could not wait to see how Miss Crawford turned out.

  He tried to envision her in a dress made of the raspberry satin he had seen draped across her shoulders. Reds and bold pinks were the colors which best suited Miss Crawford. However, they were also the most inappropriate colors if one was a teacher. It was such a shame. He turned over and punched the pillow.

  “Would you kindly remove your clothing, Miss Crawford,” Mrs. McGregor’s voice could be heard through the door.

  He did not hear the rustle of clothing, but could envision it.

  “Oh, Miss Crawford, why do you hide yourself beneath such frumpy clothing?” Mrs. McGregor asked.

  Vincent already had a very good idea what she did hide, though he would like some clarification.

  “I am a teacher. I am not on the marriage mart.” Vincent heard Miss Crawford argue.

  “That does not mean you need to hide yourself either,” Mrs. McGregor scolded.

  “Miss Crawford, you must get the silver silk,” one of the girls insisted.

  Vincent pulled the pillow over his head. If they were not finished soon, he would never get the necessary sleep.

  “Miss Crawford, by the time I am finished, you will not even recognize yourself.”

  The girls giggled. Vincent couldn’t take it. Once again he got out of bed and dressed. With pillow and blanket in hand he strode out into his hallway. Wesley approached from the end of the corridor.

  “Lord Atwood?” His brow raised in question.

  “I will be in the cellar!” he yelled and marched to the stairs.

  . . . a nameless spell seemed to attach him to her; even the shudder

  which he felt in her presence, and which would not permit him to touch her,

  was not unmixed with pleasure, like that thrilling awful emotion felt

  when strains of sacred music float under the vault of some temple;

  he rather sought, therefore, than avoided this feeling.

  Wake Not the Dead

  Johann Ludwig Tieck

  Chapter 11

  This was Tess’ favorite time of the day. Lessons were done and dinner had yet to be served. It was when she took tea with Claudia and Natalie. Today was no different, except they opted to enjoy the terrace on this beautiful, unseasonably warm autumn day. She settled back and sipped the tea and enjoyed the changes around her. They were seated at the back of the house, the same side where her chamber was located with the forest spread out before them. A most beautiful sight indeed, with leaves of red, gold, orange, and warm brown. The sky above was a beautiful rich blue without a cloud in sight. On sun-filled days like this she could forget there were troubles in the world or that she had anything to fear.

  All too soon those glorious leaves would drop, dry to a dead brown and crumble, but today she could enjoy their beauty.

  “I’ve never known the girls to have so much fun working out of doors,” Claudia intruded on her thoughts.

  Tess turned to look at the students. They were further out on the vast grounds picking up sticks and branches and placing them where chopped wood and kindling had already been stored. Laughter could be heard as they ran and played, yet the work was being done. Thank goodness they were far enough away that they could not be heard inside. If Lord Atwood was awakened one more time, she feared they would be asked to leave.

  “How does it feel to be wearing a new dress?” Claudia asked.

  Tess stretched her legs out in front of her and admired the emerald green skirt. She couldn’t believe the dress had been waiting for her when the lessons were completed for the day.

  Another dress also waited for her to wear tomorrow, along with new bed clothing. “It feels wonderful,” she sighed.

  “How did the seamstress manage to complete the dress so quickly? She only left a few hours ago.” Natalie asked.

  Tess grinned. “Can you believe Wesley guessed at my measurements and gave them to Mrs. McGregor. All she needed was to double check today. She simply had to hem the two and have them delivered.”

  “Remind me to consult Wesley next time I need a new dress,” Claudia
chuckled.

  Natalie gasped. Tess and Claudia turned toward her expectantly.

  “I can’t believe I forgot to mention the latest news.”

  Claudia leaned forward. “What?” she asked with anticipation.

  “It appears Lady Atwood is back from the dead,” Natalie announced.

  Tess whipped her head to her friend. Certainly she had not heard correctly. Claudia looked just as perplexed, and Natalie grinned.

  * * *

  Vincent returned to his room, no longer able to sleep on the uncomfortable lounge in the cellar. It had served its purpose as originally intended, but a full night’s, or as it were, day’s sleep, had not been the reason it had been placed there. He stretched and removed his shirt. Dinner would not be for hours yet and he was determined to slumber in his own comfortable bed. At least this floor was blessedly silent now.

  A breeze blew the curtains and he walked toward the window to close it against the distant laughter he heard coming from the western lawn. He stopped short when he heard Miss Pritchard’s announcement. He leaned out the window to find the three younger teachers taking tea. Though he should remove himself and not eavesdrop on their conversation, he could not bring himself to do so. Apparently his wife was back from the dead. He would dearly love to know how that occurred.

  “Did you say that Lady Atwood has arisen, apparently?” Miss Morris asked.

  “That is what the girls believe,” Miss Pritchard confirmed.

  Miss Morris leaned forward. She sat at the far corner, next to Miss Crawford, and the one piece of sun that found its way to this side of the house shone on both of them. Their faces were alight with curiosity and humor.

  “Eliza?” Miss Crawford questioned.

  “Apparently the girls saw Lord Atwood carrying Lady Atwood to his room last night.”

  Miss Crawford choked on her tea. He wasn’t surprised given she was the one who he’d actually carried.