by Diane Gaston
Anna shared a little about her growing up at Lawton House. Lord Brentmore told her of his activities during the war. He’d been a spy, slipping into France to receive messages from informants and passing on information to those working against Napoleon.
Dinner became Anna’s favourite time of the day, a time for the sort of camaraderie she’d missed so desperately since losing Charlotte’s company. It was all the more special because her companion was the marquess. The more he shared with her, the more Anna began to know the man and the more difficult he was to resist.
When she left the dinner table, however, Lord Brentmore remained behind. If he had once knocked upon her bedroom door, she did not know what choices she might make.
This morning he was not in the breakfast room when she and the children entered. Instead there was a folded piece of paper at Anna’s seat.
‘What does it say?’ asked Dory before Anna even had a chance to read the words.
‘A lady is not so rude as to ask what is in a letter that may not concern her at all,’ Anna scolded in good humour. The spirit that was so appealing in the five-year-old would quickly be seen as ill mannered if Anna did not succeed in dampening it. ‘It is addressed to all of us, so I will tell you. It is from your father.’ She quickly read the note. ‘He will not be joining us this morning, but expects to see us mid-day, when he will have a surprise.’
‘A surprise!’ Dory’s eyes lit up.
As did Lord Cal’s.
‘What is the surprise?’ Dory asked.
Anna laughed. ‘It would not be a surprise if he told us what it was.’
* * *
Word came in the early afternoon, summoning them to the stables and telling them to be dressed for riding.
‘Papa is taking us riding this afternoon,’ Lady Dory guessed as they walked the pathway to the stables. ‘That is why he wanted us dressed for it. That’s the surprise, isn’t it, Miss Hill?’
‘I do not know.’ Anna turned to her brother. ‘Do you think that is the surprise, Lord Cal?’ She and Lord Brentmore agreed to seize any opportunity to ask him to communicate.
The boy shrugged his shoulders, but clearly he was excited about what they would find. Anna’s heart swelled. Cal was anticipating something good happening to him.
With the stables in sight, the children broke into a run.
‘Slow down!’ Anna called to them, but they were not listening.
When she reached the stable door, Mr Upsom was there, trying to fend off two excited children.
But he had a grin on his face. ‘His lordship said to meet him in the paddock.’
She grabbed the children’s hands to keep them in tow as they walked through the stable to the paddock on the other side.
Lord Brentmore stood inside the paddock. In his hands were the reins of a black pony and a brown one.
Dory let out a shriek and pulled away. ‘Ponies!’
Cal was right behind her, and Anna thought she heard him cry aloud.
Lord Brentmore flashed a smile.
‘Ponies!’ Dory cried again. ‘You brought ponies!’
Both children climbed through the fence.
Anna stayed on the other side. ‘My lord, what have you done here?’
He smiled directly at Anna. ‘I conceived an idea.’
He handed the reins to a stable lad and stepped forwards to halt the children’s mad dash. ‘Not so hasty. An explanation is needed.’
‘May we pet the ponies?’ Dory took no heed of him and tried to scamper past him.
He caught her arm.
‘Lady Dory!’ Anna said sharply. ‘Mind your father this instant!’
Her brother grabbed her and pulled her back, whispering something into her ear that made her stand still.
Lord Brentmore crouched down to their level. ‘These ponies might be yours. You might learn to ride them—’
‘They are our ponies?’ Dory cried.
‘Might be,’ her father corrected. ‘But there is a stipulation involved.’
Dory’s brow furrowed. ‘What is a stipulation?’
‘A condition that must be satisfied,’ Anna offered. ‘Something you must do first.’
‘That is correct.’ Lord Brentmore took Dory’s hand. ‘You may pet the brown pony while I speak first with your brother, but heed Samuel here. He will hold the reins.’
She suddenly hesitated, looking back at Cal as if reluctant to leave his side, but the pony was too tempting. She approached it carefully, but finally stroked its neck.
Lord Brentmore took the reins of the black pony and walked it over to Cal.
He crouched down again to the boy’s level. ‘Would you like this pony, Cal? Would you like him to be yours to ride?’
Cal enthusiastically nodded his head.
‘When I was a boy,’ his father said, ‘I was taught that I must perform a task in order to get something that I wanted, so I have a task I want you to perform.’
Cal looked a bit wary.
His father continued. ‘It is time for you to get used to talking again—’
‘Cal talks,’ Dory broke in.
‘Dory!’ Anna scolded.
Her father turned to her. ‘The task you must perform, Dory, is to stop speaking for your brother. I will explain about that in a minute.’ He addressed his son again. ‘Do not be concerned. You may get used to speaking a little at a time, but I must see you trying. Do you understand?’
The boy nodded again, solemnly this time.
‘If you give me your word that you will practise talking again, this pony will be yours. You may name him and I will teach you to ride him.’ Lord Brentmore looked directly in the boy’s eyes. ‘But you must give me your word. A gentleman always keeps his word. Can you do this? Do you wish to do this?’
Cal nodded again.
‘Will you give me your word?’
Cal nodded.
‘No.’ Lord Brentmore lowered his voice. ‘To give your word, a gentleman must say it aloud. It is a rule. Will you give me your word?’
Anna held her breath.
Barely audible, she heard Lord Cal whisper, ‘Yes.’
Tears sprang to her eyes.
Lord Brentmore exchanged a glance with her and she sensed that he shared her emotions. His plan would work. Lord Cal would begin to talk again.
* * *
Later when they were all walking back from the stables, the children ran ahead.
‘Did you see Cal?’ she said to Lord Brentmore. ‘He leaned forwards and spoke to the pony! This is marvellous, my lord. Whatever gave you the idea?’
He showed some pleasure at her compliment. ‘I merely thought about what I wanted most at his age.’
She smiled. ‘And did you receive your pony?’
He shook his head, his expression sobering. ‘No. My Irish grandfather could barely put food on the table. But I would have done anything to have had one.’
* * *
That day of the ponies was just the beginning of more enjoyable days passing quickly. The weather was a great deal cooler than a normal summer, but the children still spent much of their time out of doors, learning to ride, taking walks, tending the garden. They picked their first crop of radishes and put trellises up to support the growing pea vines.
Riding became the children’s favourite activity and their skill on horseback quickly improved. It helped that their father had chosen two very mild-mannered, tolerant ponies. Lord Brentmore found a horse in the stable for Anna and sometimes the four of them would ride together, exploring the marquess’s vast lands. The marquess often took Cal alone to ride over the estate while Anna and Dory made games of learning to serve tea or sew dresses for her dolls.
Lord Cal started talking again, bit by bit, although rarely without being spoken to first and always with as few words as possible. He was making the effort, though, and Anna believed it was because his father had made his home a comfortable place.
It seemed as if everything about Brentmore Hall had changed.
The dark wainscoting stopped looking so bleak and maids might be caught humming while they worked. The footmen and other workers performed their tasks cheerfully.
It felt as if someone had taken a bucket and washed away all the gloom that had been there before.
It was all due to Lord Brentmore, Anna knew. He made the summer as idyllic a one as Anna had ever experienced. The pain of being thrust out of the only home she knew and banished from the only people she’d cared about faded with the joys of a summer without stress, spent with a man whose companionship she relished and with children she’d grown to love as if they were her own.
She still battled the surge of excitement inside her when Brentmore was near, but she supposed he had mastered any attraction he might once have felt towards her. His manner with her was always gentlemanly, even convivial, as if he was more friend than employer.
And he’d moved back to his own bedchamber.
* * *
This morning promised to be another sunny day. She and Lord Brentmore sat in the breakfast room with the children, encouraging Cal to speak by discussing plans for the day.
‘What would you like to do today?’ Lord Brentmore asked him.
Cal hesitated, as he always did before speaking. ‘Ride.’
‘May we ride to the village?’ Dory piped up. ‘We should like to go to the village.’ She clamped her hand over her mouth. ‘I mean, I would like to go to the village.’
Anna lifted a finger. ‘Lady Dory, your father was speaking to your brother. Wait until you are addressed.’
‘Yes, Miss Hill.’ The girl lowered her head.
Lord Brentmore’s gaze passed quickly over Dory. He turned back to his son. ‘Where would you like to ride, Cal?’
Cal glanced from his sister to his father, a hint of mischief on his face. ‘To the village.’
No doubt he and his sister had discussed the matter ahead of time.
‘Your sister is not ready to ride to the village yet,’ their father replied. ‘There is too much commotion. Too many people and wagons. So we must pick some other place to ride or some other way to go to the village. What say you?’
Cal appeared to mull this over. ‘Both?’ he asked in a hopeful tone.
His father laughed. ‘Perhaps.’ He turned to Anna. ‘How does that suit you, Miss Hill?’
‘I believe I will forgo the riding, if I might.’ All this activity left her with little time to sort out the nursery, mend her clothes and plan lessons. ‘But a trip to the village—’
The butler entered the room. ‘Your newspaper and mail, m’lord.’
Lord Brentmore took them from the tray. ‘Thank you, Wyatt.’ He set the paper aside and looked through the mail, opening one envelope.
A letter fell from it. He picked it up. ‘It is for you, Miss Hill. It must have been mailed to London by mistake.’
‘For me?’ Who would send her a letter besides Charlotte? Charlotte knew she was not in London.
‘It is from Lawton House.’ He handed it to her.
‘From Lawton?’ Her anxiety rose.
Anna quickly broke the seal. She felt the blood drain from her face as she read.
‘What is it?’ Lord Brentmore asked, sounding concerned.
The children grew very quiet.
‘It—it is from our housekeeper at Lawton.’ Her heart pounded in her chest. ‘My—my mother is very ill. Very ill indeed.’ A fever and an affliction of the lungs, she’d written. ‘This was sent days ago.’ She handed the letter to him.
‘You must go to her,’ he said.
She shook her head. ‘How can I? The children. My duty here—’
He looked up from the letter and captured her gaze. ‘You must go.’ He turned to the children. ‘We will manage without Miss Hill, will we not?’
Cal sat wide-eyed, staring from his father to Anna.
‘No!’ Dory’s voice rose in panic. ‘I do not want Miss Hill to leave us!’
Lord Brentmore gave her a dampening look. ‘None of that, now. We must not be selfish. Miss Hill’s mother is ill and she must tend to her.’ His tone turned reassuring. ‘Besides, Miss Hill will only be gone a few days. Until her mother is recovered.’
Dory blinked. ‘She will come back?’
Anna left her chair to gather Dory into her arms and hold her close. ‘Of course I will come back, my little pet. Do not fear.’
‘Do you wish to leave today?’ Lord Brentmore asked.
Things were moving so fast. ‘I do not see how I can.’ She gave Dory a kiss on the cheek and returned her to her chair. ‘I must make arrangements. Check the coaching schedules—’
He raised a hand. ‘Nonsense. You do not need a public coach. Not when I have a number of carriages to offer. Leave those arrangements to me. If you wish to be in Lawton before dark, it can be done.’
Her throat tightened. ‘How can I ever thank you?’
His gaze held hers. ‘It is the least I can do, when I owe you so much.’
Chapter Seven
Anna excused herself from the breakfast table and went in search of Mrs Willis to inform the housekeeper of her impending absence.
The housekeeper gave her a warm hug and admonished her against excessive worrying. ‘It will help nothing, my dear. You must save your strength for the care of your mother.’
They discussed the menus for the children and other issues about their care.
‘You are not to worry over the little ones, either, Miss Hill,’ the woman said. ‘They are doing splendidly under your care and their father’s. We are all astonished at the change in them. I promise you, we will keep up your good work.’
‘Thank you.’ Anna thought she might weep at the kind words. ‘I think Eppy can handle them. And Lord Brentmore, of course. I believe they could be placed entirely in his care, actually. He is so good with them.’
‘That he is, my dear,’ the woman agreed. ‘He is changed, as well, thanks to you. He is like a new man.’
Thanks to her? Surely any governess with good sense would have acted as she had. Perhaps better.
Anna hurried to the nursery wing to find Eppy, who also enfolded her in her arms when hearing of her mother’s illness.
‘I am sorry to leave you with more work,’ Anna said.
Eppy patted Anna’s back. ‘Now, now. You must go to your mother. Besides, the children are a pleasure now. Not ever so sad and skittish as before. It is an easy thing to take care of them.’
Anna was not so secure that the children would be no trouble. She would, after all, be one more person leaving them. The very idea of it was bound to upset them.
Eppy helped her pack and the two women discussed the children’s care while they folded Anna’s clothing and gathered the items she would need, placing them in her portmanteau.
She carried it down to the hall herself.
Mr Wyatt awaited her there. ‘Cook packed a basket for you and his lordship sent all the instructions to Mr Upsom to have you driven in the chaise. It should be here directly.’
‘Where are the children?’ And Lord Brentmore?
He averted his gaze as he took the portmanteau from her and opened the door. ‘With his lordship.’
Would she not have the chance to say goodbye to them?
She felt a stab of pain, disappointed in Lord Brentmore for the first time since he’d agreed to stay with the children. Did he not think it important that she say goodbye to them?
Did he not think it important for him to say goodbye to her?
She stepped outside and watched the chaise make its way towards the front entrance, one of the stable lads driving. Wyatt placed her portmanteau in a compartment behind the seat and helped her into the small carriage.
‘I hope you mother recovers quickly,’ Mr Wyatt said, handing her the basket. ‘Come back to us soon.’
She squeezed the man’s hand. ‘Thank you, Mr Wyatt.’
But it was not the butler’s good wishes she longed for.
She felt as bereft as when she’d left L
ord Lawton’s London town house. At least Charlotte had made a point to say goodbye to her. She blinked away tears as the chaise made its way down the drive towards the arched gate.
When it passed through the gate, the driver brought the horses to a stop. He jumped down.
‘Why are we stopping?’ she asked.
The man gestured with his thumb. ‘You are getting a new driver.’
A man emerged from the shadows, followed by two children.
Anna climbed down from the carriage and the children ran into her arms.
She kissed them both. ‘I thought I would have to leave you without saying goodbye.’
Dory grinned. ‘It was Papa’s idea!’
She glanced at Lord Brentmore. He was not dressed at all like a gentleman. In fact, her coachman was better dressed. ‘Lord Brentmore?’
He climbed into the chaise. ‘I am going to drive you to Lawton House.’
Her old driver was grinning. ‘Do not fret, miss. I’ll see the children back to the house, safe and sound.’
‘Papa gave you a surprise!’ Dory cried.
He certainly had. She could barely grasp it.
‘Bid these children farewell!’ He took the ribbons in his hands. ‘We must be off.’
Anna kissed the children again and hugged them for good measure. ‘I will return as soon as I am able. You mind Eppy, now. She will take care of you.’
‘We’ll be good!’ Dory said.
Cal hugged her again. ‘I—I hope your mother recovers.’
It was the longest sentence he’d spoken yet.
She held him tightly. ‘Thank you, Lord Cal. I will miss you both so very much.’
She handed them over to the old driver and climbed back in the chaise.
Lord Brentmore flicked the ribbons and the horses started off again. He waved to the children, who enthusiastically waved back.
