by Wilma Counts
“There is not much likelihood of that happening. Did you not tell me you’d never been north of Coventry before?”
“True.”
“Our town of Kenrick is not exactly on a main thoroughfare—nor is it much of a metropolis,” Robert said.
“But with thousands of demobilized soldiers unleashed on England now that Napoleon is no longer a threat . . .” Her voice trailed off.
“There were very few men from Yorkshire in our regiment. I am not saying it is impossible you would be exposed—just highly unlikely.”
She nodded.
“Besides,” he added, with a gesture at her attire, “people see what they expect to see. You are the housekeeper at Kenrick Hall—mobcap and all. Though, you might draw attention in a fashionable ball gown.”
Just then the library door opened and Lord Kenrick walked in. Kate quickly got to her feet.
“Am I interrupting?”
“No, my lord. I was just leaving,” she said.
“A fashionable ball gown? What was that all about?” Jeremy asked his brother when the door closed behind her.
“Kate was just concerned about the Midsummer festivities.”
“I thought I explained them to her rather thoroughly,” he said, as he rifled through a drawer in his desk.
“You know how women are—afraid she won’t fit in.”
Jeremy grinned. “I was not aware, little brother, that you were such an expert on the fair sex.”
“Me—and Don Juan.”
“Don’t tell me you’ve become a follower of that exhibitionist, Byron.”
“Not him, but his poetry. He has some really fine work—and it’s very popular with the ladies!”
Jeremy laughed, but he was certain that he had interrupted something of more significance than feminine nerves.
The day after her discussion with Robert, Kate still had reservations about the Midsummer festivities, but these were quickly pushed aside by a weightier matter: her son’s education. Lord Kenrick asked to meet with her after the midday meal. Once again, the two of them occupied the comfortable barrel chairs in the library. And once again, he leaned back casually, far more at ease than she who had fretted inwardly since receiving his summons.
“I hope you have not thought me remiss in the matter of a nursery maid,” he began.
“No, my lord.”
“As a matter of fact, I have given the matter a great deal of thought and discussed it with my aunt, but I should like your view of the matter as well.”
“I am flattered, my lord.”
“You needn’t be. My motives are somewhat self-serving.”
She raised her brows. “I don’t understand.”
“First of all, I am aware that Cranstan’s departure has necessitated some additional duties for several people and that you have been saddled with the logistics of juggling their assignments.”
“It has not been so very bad, but—”
He put up a hand. “Hear me out.”
“Yes, my lord.” She settled back in the chair and with a gesture made a light show of giving him the floor.
“I also wish you to be satisfied with your situation at Kenrick.”
“Oh, but I am, my lord.”
“More satisfied, then.”
She was quiet as he went on.
“I am told that you are yourself seeing to lessons for your son.”
“Yes, I am. But I assure you, my lord, Ned’s lessons do not interfere with my duties.”
“I did not mean to imply that they did.” He sounded impatient and he frowned, but his grin and laughing tone belied his stern words. “Suppose you stop jumping to conclusions and allow me to finish.”
“Yes, my lord.” Wanting to laugh at his tone, she tried to sound contrite.
“Instead of a new nursery maid, I intend to hire a governess to provide lessons for my daughter and it occurred to me that not only would Cassie enjoy her lessons more if they were shared, but that she might learn more too.”
“Shared with whom?”
“Your son, of course. He’s the only other child in this house that I know of.” He paused, then continued, “I told you my motives were self-serving. This arrangement would also free you to devote more attention to the ongoing needs of the Hall and the staff.”
She sat in stunned silence for a moment, then said slowly, “What you are proposing is most unusual. A housekeeper’s son taking lessons with an earl’s child? It—it is simply unheard of!”
“I will admit to its being out of the ordinary—”
She laughed. “Extraordinary in the extreme: a housekeeper’s son—”
“Ah, but an extraordinary housekeeper and an extraordinary son.” His tone turned serious. “Your Ned truly is extraordinarily bright. He should have every chance to realize his potential.”
“I do not mean to be impertinent, my lord, but are you quite sure your years in America have not rendered you unfit for English society?”
He chuckled. “Well, you are being impertinent—but you may have a point. Still, what do you think of the idea?”
“I think it a very generous offer and that I would be a fool to refuse it.”
“Good. I have already set the wheels in motion. In a few weeks I shall interview possible candidates for governess and I should like you to be present when I do so.”
“As you wish, my lord.”
“There is one other related matter,” he said.
She waited.
He cleared his throat. “Uh—I confess to breaching certain matters of protocol. I—uh—I had Wilkins show me your quarters the other day.”
“You . . . ?”
He rushed on. “They were designed for a single woman. In a house this size, we have—what? Twenty? Twenty-five bed chambers? —not counting servant’s quarters. There is no reason you and Ned should share one.”
“I like having him close by,” she said weakly.
“Yes. But it would be better if he were near the schoolroom, too. There are at least seven chambers in the nursery wing. You may have adjoining chambers there. And you may retain use of the housekeeper quarters on the first floor as you see fit.”
“That too is very generous of you, my lord. I—I hardly know what to say.” She felt tears of gratitude gathering.
He stood abruptly. “Never mind. As I said: mostly quite self-serving. Effective immediately, by the way.”
Kate also rose and held his gaze for a long moment, wanting to kiss him, and not just as a show of gratitude, she realized. She merely murmured sincere thanks and excused herself.
Overwhelmed, she hurried to her room to sort out this turn of events. Good heavens! The man had no idea what a gift he had just given her. Just as she was thinking Ned’s education would suffer terribly so long as she was a housekeeper, Kenrick had offered a perfect solution. Well, perhaps not perfect, but certainly workable for a year or two. Then—who knew? One thing was certain: Lord Kenrick intended her and Ned to remain here on a long-term basis. Eventually Phillips and Lawrence would find a proper school for Ned. When it came to that. Meanwhile, there was still the potential threat of that Bow Street Runner.
Three days later, Kate found the Midsummer festivities more or less exactly as Lord Kenrick had described them. All available carriages and wagons from the Hall itself and the nearby home farm were called into service to transport the earl, his guests, and most of his household. Kate and Ned joined the other staff members on one of the farm wagons, but once they arrived in town, people scattered to find friends they might not have seen in weeks or months.
Initially somewhat shy in the crowds, Ned and Lady Cassandra gravitated toward each other, pulling their indulgent parents along with them. Captain Clemson and Robert trailed behind them.
“It’s like a medieval fair!” Kate exclaimed on seeing the array of colorful tents and booths set up to sell cider, ale, sausages on buns, and sweetmeats.
“It isn’t all fun and games, though,” Robert pointed out. “
See those folks over there? They are seeking new positions—carrying emblems of their trade.”
Clemson said, “Ah, yes. There’s a shepherd’s crook. The fellow next to him is wearing a carpenter’s belt.”
“That young woman must be a dairymaid; she carries a milk pail,” Kate said. She was torn between admiring their ingenuity and being grateful she had been spared such scrutiny in her own quest for employment.
Cassie and Ned were fascinated by a man with a monkey on a leash that danced as its owner played a concertina. They moved on to a larger gathering of people around a small, curtained stage. It was a Punch-and-Judy puppet show that brought forth laughter and giggles from all ages.
After a while, Robert said, “Clemson and I are going to check out the horse races. Maybe place a bet.”
“All right,” Kenrick responded. “Squire Dennison’s black is said to be the odds-on favorite. And Mortimer has a chestnut he is proud of.”
“No Kenrick cattle in the running, though,” Robert said with regret. “Too bad.”
“Not for several years, I’m told,” his brother said. “But one day . . .”
When Clemson and Robert had taken their leave, Kate felt a twinge of nostalgia as she and her employer and their children wandered along. Almost like a family, she mused, but quickly quelled that thought.
They paused to watch a juggler perform before a sizable group.
“We can’t see,” Ned said. “Come on, Cass.” He grabbed Cassie’s hand and pushed through the group to stand in the front with a number of other children, leaving Kate and Lord Kenrick on the fringes.
Kate glanced up at him. “It appears we have been deserted, my lord.”
“So we have been. Left quite alone in a sea of people.” He gazed into her eyes and smiled. Something almost tangible passed between them, as intimate as a kiss.
The moment was abruptly shattered by a female voice.
“Oh, Lord Kenrick, how wonderful to see you!”
Kate turned to see Charlotte Mortimer accompanied by her parents and Miss Cranstan. Kate dipped a brief curtsy to the group and was promptly ignored as Miss Mortimer and her father greeted Lord Kenrick effusively with a barrage of small talk about what a fine day it was. The other two women gazed about them, refusing to make eye contact with Kate.
Having exhausted the profound topic of the weather, Charlotte Mortimer looked from Lord Kenrick to Kate and smiled, her expression displaying nothing of warmth or cheer. “La, my lord. I see you do take seriously the unspoken rule that this holiday be ‘classless.’ Such gracious condescension, my lord—but what a blessing it comes only once a year, could you not agree?”
Kate would have liked to give the woman a proper set down, but held her housekeeper tongue.
“Oh, I don’t know,” Kenrick said. “It seems to me that respect and conviviality among people—not to mention good manners—can only be positive factors at any time.”
“I quite agree,” Miss Mortimer said, just as though she had not really registered his comment. She glanced pointedly at Kate. “But, in general, society functions best if we all stick to our own kind.”
Sir Eldridge looked from his daughter to Lord Kenrick and back. He wore a slight frown. “Come, Charlotte, I do not want to miss the race.”
“Yes, Father.” She tapped Lord Kenrick playfully on the arm. “I shall save a dance for you tonight, my lord. Or two, perhaps.” She leaned closer so her breast touched his arm briefly and lowered her still very audible voice. “But only two. After all, we do not want to rush things, do we?” Her glance at Kate held a trace of triumph—or challenge.
Lord Kenrick was prevented from responding as Ned and Cassie rejoined their parents. Kenrick bowed toward the Mortimers, who took their cue and left.
“Papa! Did you see the juggler? Wasn’t he wonderful?” Cassie said.
“I want to learn to juggle things,” Ned said.
“Me too!”
“You must start with only three items,” Kate cautioned, welcoming the shift in atmosphere as Ned and Cassie replaced the Mortimer party.
“Soft ones—not plates and knives,” Lord Kenrick added. Did he too welcome the change?
“I shall make you some small cloth balls,” Kate said.
“For me too?” Cassie begged.
“Of course.”
During the rest of the day, neither Kate nor Lord Kenrick brought up the topic of the chance meeting with the Mortimers—if, indeed, it was a chance meeting, Kate thought.
When they had all returned to the Hall and turned the children over to the maid who would see to their care, members of the Kenrick household changed into evening attire. Jeremy, his brother, and their guest, along with Aunt Elinor, waited in the drawing room for Mrs. Arthur.
“Now, remember,” Lady Elinor said, “I am there for the music and a bit of gossip. You sit me down in a likely spot and my friends will find me.”
“Absolutely not!” Robert scoffed. “I claim at least one dance with you.”
Lady Elinor laughed. “I would not want to make all the young ladies jealous.”
When his housekeeper entered the room, she quite took Jeremy’s breath away. She wore the customary mobcap—Jeremy often thought of it as armor of a sort—but instead of a gray dress such as she usually wore, she had on a lavender gown—silk, Jeremy guessed—with lace of a darker shade at elbow-length sleeves and a low neckline that revealed a hint of cleavage. She wore white gloves.
“I say! Lady Arthur!” Robert blurted. “You look splendid!”
She turned abruptly and frowned at him. “Thank you, Captain Chilton, but please—we really mustn’t continue that joke.”
“Oh. Yes. I forgot. Old habits, you know.”
“You do look very fine, Mrs. Arthur,” Captain Clemson said with a bow.
“I concur. Fully,” Jeremy said. “Except for that infernal mobcap. You certainly may dispense with it for the evening.”
“I—I am not so sure. Would that not be going too far? Lady Elinor?”
“It’s Midsummer,” Lady Elinor said. “Our little world goes mad only one day of the year. And Kenrick is the lord of the manor. Best do as he wishes.”
Mrs. Arthur reluctantly removed her badge of office and laid it on a nearby table. Jeremy drew in another breath. Her dark blond hair was arranged in a thick, shiny braid from the crown of her head to the nape of her neck. Streaks of lighter blond also caught the light and soft curls that shaped her face.
“Much better,” Jeremy said, holding her gaze momentarily. He wondered what all that hair would look like strewn about on a pillow, then mentally kicked himself.
She turned to the other two men, who were dressed in their regimental uniforms. “I must say, Captain Chilton and Captain Clemson, you bring back memories for me.”
“Like the prince’s ball in Lisbon, eh?” Robert said. “You were surely the belle of that ball.”
A look of fear flashed in her eyes. Jeremy might have missed it had he not been staring at her. She looked away and waved her hands dismissively. “Another time, another place.”
Storing away this observation to examine later, Jeremy decided to rescue her. “Shall we go?”
As was to be expected, the arrival of Lord Kenrick’s party at the ball caused quite a stir. Two soldiers in their resplendent uniforms caused flurries among many female hearts. Jeremy was aware that he himself cut a respectable figure in the stark black and white of formal evening wear, but it was Mrs. Arthur who raised several eyebrows, and he was determined that she not be subjected to undue notice or criticism. To this end, he made sure that he escorted his aunt into the assembly room and Mrs. Arthur appeared on Robert’s arm. He admitted to himself a twinge of envy of his brother at this arrangement. She then sat on the sidelines near Lady Elinor.
The Chilton brothers and their guest commanded so much attention that they were scarcely allowed to sit out a single dance. Jeremy noted that Mrs. Arthur twirled about the floor nearly as much as he and the two captain
s. Telling himself he had no right to such feelings, he quelled what he readily recognized as sheer jealousy at seeing her on the arms of others.
He dutifully danced with Charlotte Mortimer, who was flirtatious and polite—and determined in her goal of snagging him for a second dance, which he knew would cause tongues to wag as nothing else could. They chatted of inconsequential matters until the movements of the dance caused them to intersect with Mrs. Arthur and Robert, her partner of the moment.
“Your housekeeper is making a spectacle of herself, my lord,” Miss Mortimer said.
“I see nothing untoward in her behavior,” he said.
“All those different partners. And that gown she is wearing is sadly out of date, but it was certainly not purchased on a housekeeper’s wages!” Miss Mortimer said. “Unless, of course—”
Jeremy interrupted before she could go wherever she was headed with this thought. “Household staff are often given items of clothing by their employers, are they not? The garment Miss Cranstan is wearing is remarkably like one you wore last autumn.” He stopped short of commenting on the number of partners she herself had had.
“I am flattered that you remembered a gown I wore. That is a very good sign, my lord.” She gave him a coy smile.
Jeremy was glad when the dance ended and he could return her to the care of her parents, who stood talking with Squire Dennison and his wife and daughter. Robert and Clemson joined the group and Jeremy introduced them to the others. Miss Mortimer continued to stand close to Jeremy, her hand lightly—possessively—on his arm. He thought he saw a subtle communication pass between Mortimer and his daughter, then Mortimer excused himself and walked toward the musicians. The group continued ballroom chitchat, with a good deal of fluttering of eyelashes from the young women and smiling goodwill all around.
During a lull in the conversation, Robert bowed slightly to the squire’s daughter. “Miss Dennison, I wonder if you would favor me with the next dance?”
She laughed and said, “Of course. But, good heavens, Robert, I’m still Delia—the same girl you rescued from that apple tree!”
