by Jen Turano
With a returning smile, Ann took hold of Thaddeus’s hand, and with the children chatting about everything under the sun, she led them into the house.
“What a lovely young woman,” Abigail said. “And since it does seem as if you’re going to be well taken care of here, I’ll be on my way.” She nodded to Mrs. O’Connor. “I’m Mrs. Hart, by the way, and do know, if anything of a troubling nature occurs, my cottage is just down the road.”
Mrs. O’Connor dipped a curtsy Abigail’s way. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Hart. Since Mr. Mulberry gave instructions for us to send your trunks on ahead, I have your address and will certainly send for you if something of a troubling nature happens.” Mrs. O’Connor turned to Millie. “And speaking of trunks, your trunks, along with a black bag, have been delivered to the room you’ll be using on the second floor.”
“I only brought the black bag,” Millie said slowly.
Mrs. O’Connor’s brow furrowed. “Then why were there four trunks with your name stamped on them?”
An image of a dinner dress suddenly sprang to mind, along with Miss Bertha Miller’s remark about Abigail ordering an entirely new wardrobe for Millie. Shaking her head, Millie turned to tell Abigail exactly what she thought about the older woman’s latest shenanigans but found that Abigail was already halfway across the lawn, moving at a remarkably fast clip for a woman of her age. “Should I ask what’s in the trunks, Abigail?” she called.
“You’ll see,” Abigail tossed over her shoulder as she reached the hansom cab. A moment later, with a cheery wave sent out the window, Abigail got on her way.
Watching until the hansom cab disappeared down the road, Millie turned to the staff still waiting to meet her. “I don’t care to be an alarmist, but I get the distinct impression we’re going to be experiencing a very disturbing summer.”
She was not reassured in the least when not a single one of them bothered to dispute her statement.
Less than ten minutes later, Millie came to the conclusion she’d been exactly right about the disturbing summer business.
After being introduced to the entire staff, she’d followed Mrs. O’Connor through the well-appointed cottage, up a curving staircase lined with red carpeting, then down a long hallway that had gilded papered walls, and into the nanny’s room. She’d been taken aback by the drabness of the room, especially considering how nice the rest of the cottage had been decorated. However, once she spotted the incredibly large trunks that did, indeed, have her name stamped on them, all thoughts of decorations had immediately evaporated from her mind.
Mrs. O’Connor, obviously being a very astute woman, had beaten a remarkably hasty retreat, leaving Millie all alone to consider the trunks in front of her. Deciding after a few minutes that she wasn’t brave enough to delve into the deep depths of the trunks quite yet, Millie walked over to the black bag she’d personally packed and picked it up, plopping it right back down on the small bed the room afforded.
Flipping open the clasp, she smiled when her books came immediately into view. Pulling out her Bible, two Jane Austen books, a dictionary, several works by Shakespeare, and last, but not least, her thesaurus, her relief turned to annoyance when she realized all of the clothing she’d packed seemed to be missing. Sticking her hand back in the bag, she felt nothing but empty space. Gone were the skirts, blouses, sensible undergarments, stockings, and even her aprons, along with her spare pair of comfortable shoes.
Withdrawing her hand, she stalked over to the trunks, disbelief flowing through her when she opened the first one and discovered day dresses that would be perfect if she happened to be invited to a fancy tea.
The next trunk held hats and shoes, the third, beautiful dinner dresses, and the fourth . . . Millie actually shuddered when she’d pulled out a wispy piece of silk that was nothing less than a ball gown.
“Honestly, this time she’s gone too far,” Millie muttered, tossing the ball gown over a straight-back chair. “When I get my hands on her I’ll—”
“Forgive me for interrupting, Miss Longfellow, but I do feel I should point out that issuing threats against the person responsible for those trunks, a person I’m assuming might be Mrs. Hart, could possibly see you dismissed from your position. Believe me when I say none of us here at Seaview want to see that happen.”
Looking up, Millie found Ann standing in the doorway. “Believe me when I say the last thing Mrs. Hart would let happen would be my dismissal from this position, given her liking for plots. But . . . never mind about that.” She tilted her head. “May I hope you’re here to tell me you’ve met with some success in regard to Elizabeth and her bad temper?”
“She won’t let us in her room,” Thaddeus said, darting around Ann with Rose by his side. “She sent us to find you because she says she won’t come out until you go and talk to her.”
Rose’s little lip started trembling. “I think she’s . . . crying.”
Those words had Millie heading out of the room and striding down the hallway. She came to a stop in front of the door Mrs. O’Connor had told her led to Elizabeth’s room. To her relief, she heard not a single sound of crying coming from Elizabeth’s room. Moving a step closer, she noticed that the door had been left open a few inches, and found herself wondering if Elizabeth had done that on purpose so that Millie would know she’d be welcome. Deciding the only way she’d discover exactly what Elizabeth was thinking was to actually go speak with the girl, Millie took a step forward and pushed open the door, regretting the decision almost immediately when water suddenly poured over her.
Tilting her chin, she immediately regretted that as well when a wash basin, obviously the one that had recently held all the water, dropped on her head, the weight and surprise of it sending her crashing to the ground.
“You killed the nanny, Elizabeth,” Thaddeus wailed. “We’re going to be in terrible trouble now.”
Millie heard the sound of little feet pounding away and realized the children were fleeing, no doubt because they were only children and probably did think she was truly dead. Trying to summon up her voice to tell them she was very much alive, she found herself incapable of speech so simply stayed on the floor, counting the stars that were still swirling beneath her eyelids.
“Good heavens, Miss Longfellow, are you all right?” Ann asked as she knelt down beside Millie. “I cannot believe Elizabeth resorted to such a prank. Why, she really could have killed you.”
“On my word, what happened?”
Forcing her eyes open, Millie discovered Mr. Macon, Everett’s butler, peering down at her.
“I’m fine, or at least not dead,” she managed to say.
Mr. Macon smiled. “Of course you’re not dead, and thank goodness for that, Miss Longfellow. You must realize that everyone on staff is in full agreement that you, my dear, are our last hope.” He knelt down beside her, opposite Ann. “Do you think you can sit up?”
“Give me another minute.”
“I’ll go track down the children,” Mrs. O’Connor said, peering down over Mr. Macon’s shoulder to catch Millie’s eye. “They need to take responsibility for this.”
“Thaddeus and Rose have done nothing wrong, Mrs. O’Connor. They just panicked, and if I were to hazard a guess, Elizabeth probably didn’t realize what the consequences would be from her little bout of mischief.”
“Surely you’re not going to let her get away with what she did without some type of punishment, are you?” Mrs. O’Connor asked slowly.
Rubbing her head, Millie nodded to Mr. Macon, who helped her into a sitting position. “I’m not a big believer in the usual methods of punishment, such as spanking or withholding food, Mrs. O’Connor. Although, given what just happened, it’s clear I have to come up with something spectacular to teach Elizabeth, along with Thaddeus and Rose since they have caused quite a bit of mayhem the last few months, a lesson they’ll not soon forget.” She rubbed her head again before she smiled. “If anyone is willing to help me—and I do believe I’m going t
o need quite a few people to help me set up what I have in mind—I’d greatly appreciate the assistance. And I need a place where no one will mind if it gets a little . . . messy.”
Stepping off a ladder twenty minutes later, Millie looked up and surveyed her handiwork, pleased with how her plan was taking shape. She nodded to Mr. Macon and Mrs. O’Connor, who nodded back before they exited what they’d called the mud room by walking out a door that led to the backyard.
This particular spot was absolutely perfect for what Millie had in mind. The floor was made of stone, there was relatively little furniture in the room, save a couple of chairs, and there were numerous sinks that were certainly going to come in handy, especially since there was little question that a huge mess was about to happen. Smiling her thanks to a footman who was carting the ladder out of the room, Millie took a seat on a chair that was placed exactly right. Plopping an ice pack on the lump on her head, she watched the door as she waited for the children to arrive.
It turned into an extremely long wait.
Shifting in the chair, she was just about to get up and see if anyone had located the children, when she heard Mrs. O’Connor speaking in a very loud voice as she marched what were surely three reluctant children down the hallway.
“And you didn’t kill Miss Longfellow, Elizabeth, but it was a near miss, so the very least you owe her is a heartfelt apology.”
“I didn’t know that basin would fall on her head,” Elizabeth said with a distinct quiver in her voice.
“Buckets placed over doors do tend to fall when the doors open, Elizabeth,” Mrs. O’Connor returned. “Which is why I expect you to tell Miss Longfellow how sorry you are, and assure her you’ll never, as in ever, play that particular trick on anyone again.”
Anticipation had Millie’s nerves jangling as the children and Mrs. O’Connor drew closer.
“I’m going to allow the three of you to speak with Miss Longfellow alone. Come and stand together, and . . . in you go.”
The doorknob turned, the door began to open, and if Millie wasn’t much mistaken, Mrs. O’Connor pushed the children forward in an obvious attempt at making certain Millie’s idea would go off as planned. Giving a nod to two footmen by the names of Will Davis and Henry Johnson, she watched as they yanked on the ropes they’d been instructed to hold, ropes that were attached to large buckets used to water the horses, but buckets that were now hanging from the ceiling.
Shrieks were immediate as cold water thoroughly soaked the children, but then the shrieks were cut off as flour, placed in sheets clear up by the ceiling and controlled by another piece of handy rope, dumped over their soaking wet bodies. It covered them from head to toe and rapidly began turning to . . . paste.
Dropping her ice pack, Millie rose to feet, unable to help but laugh when three pairs of outraged eyes blinked her way. She swallowed another laugh, but suddenly found herself devoid of all amusement when a lady dressed from head to toe in the latest fashions breezed into the room. That lady was immediately followed by a gentleman who looked remarkably similar to Everett, although older.
“Mr. and Mrs. Mulberry,” Mrs. O’Connor said in a horrified voice as she trailed after the newcomers. “What in the world are you doing here?”
Mrs. Mulberry didn’t bother to answer. Instead, she looked the children up and down, looked around the room, which was rapidly becoming coated with flour, then turned green eyes that were blazing with heat on Millie.
“Who are you?” Mrs. Mulberry demanded.
“I’m, ah, well . . . the nanny.”
Mrs. Mulberry lifted her chin. “That, my dear, is no longer the case, since you may now consider yourself dismissed. Effective . . . immediately.”
8
I cannot believe you refused Caroline’s request of dismissing the nanny.”
Pulling his attention away from the many buggies that were slowly traveling down Bellevue Avenue, filled with the fashionable set of Newport out and about on their daily afternoon jaunt, Everett settled it on Dudley. That gentleman was sitting on the carriage seat opposite him, having offered Everett a ride home after Caroline had refused to allow him to set so much as a single toe in her carriage after he’d refused to let Millie go.
“I don’t believe Caroline presented me with a request. It was a demand, and one I wasn’t comfortable granting,” Everett finally said.
“Your nanny succeeded in embarrassing Caroline in front of everyone at the Casino. That in and of itself should have had you agreeing to Miss Longfellow’s termination.”
“If Caroline suffered undue embarrassment, she has no one to blame but herself. She is the one who badgered Millie into playing tennis against her.”
One of Dudley’s brows shot up. “It’s hardly appropriate for you to call your nanny by her given name, no matter that I’ve heard rumors she’s friends with Miss Harriet Peabody. Miss Peabody might now be engaged to Oliver Addleshaw, and you might be very good friends with Oliver, but that does not make it acceptable for you to address your nanny so familiarly. It does a disservice to your position within society.”
Something unpleasant unfurled in Everett’s stomach. It had not escaped his notice that all of his friends, with the exception of Nora Niesen, had been a little too anxious in their desire to watch Millie take the court. Everett knew full well that anxiousness had stemmed from everyone wanting to see Millie fail. But when she hadn’t failed, had actually risen to the occasion magnificently, the anxiousness his friends had been displaying turned to antagonism, and an undeserved antagonism at that.
His friends had been cruel in their pursuit of amusement and that—
“While I normally don’t enjoy pointing out the faults of my friends,” Dudley was saying, pulling Everett abruptly out of his thoughts, “you’re behaving like a complete idiot.”
“And your reasoning behind that would be . . . ?”
Dudley raked a hand through thinning brown hair. “You have been fortunate enough to obtain the affections of the most desirable lady in society, yet you hardly treat Caroline in the manner she deserves.”
“Quite frankly, I’m not exactly certain I’ve obtained her affections, especially since she’s been less than pleasant to me of late.”
“She’s been less than pleasant to you because you haven’t been showing her the proper amount of attention.”
“I find it somewhat interesting that you feel qualified to give me advice since you have yet to settle your affections on a particular lady.”
Dudley shoved his hand through his hair again, leaned forward, and pinned Everett under a rather intense gaze. “I was never going to mention this to you, believing there was no point in allowing you access to this somewhat delicate information, but . . . you stole away the only lady I ever wanted to settle my affections on.”
Time ceased to move as Everett simply sat there, his thoughts becoming more muddled the longer he considered Dudley’s words. “I never had the faintest inkling you held Caroline in high esteem,” was all he seemed capable of mustering up in response.
“I mentioned my very great esteem for the lady at one of the Patriarch Balls well over two years ago.”
“I thought you were only telling me about Caroline because you thought I’d get along well with her, and that you felt she was an appropriate lady for me to set my sights on.”
“That was not why I pointed her out to you.”
“Oh . . . I see.” Everett’s collar suddenly felt incredibly tight. “Forgive me, Dudley, because, besides being rather devoid of appropriate words at the moment, I also have no idea what you expect from me now. I hope you realize I certainly wouldn’t have formed an attachment with Caroline if I’d known you’d set your sights on her. But . . . tell me . . . Why are you speaking up about this now?”
“I might not have won Caroline’s affections, but she does consider me to be a most loyal friend. As that friend, it’s my duty to look after her best interests, which is why I’m telling you that you need to treat her with gr
eater care.”
Having absolutely no idea how to proceed with what was quickly becoming a most uncomfortable, and unfortunate, state of affairs, Everett felt a small sense of relief when the carriage took that moment to turn off Bellevue Avenue and began rolling up the drive that led to his cottage. As they slowed to a stop, he caught Dudley’s eye. “I am truly sorry for the misunderstanding you and I apparently suffered. Do know that I appreciate your words, and that I’ll take them to heart and try harder with Caroline.”
“See that you do.”
Sending Dudley one last nod, even though he felt that action was less than sufficient considering what his friend had just disclosed, Everett waited for the driver to open the door, then climbed out of the carriage. A moment later, the carriage trundled down the drive again, leaving Everett staring after it as his thoughts whirled with everything Dudley had said, but more importantly, what Dudley hadn’t said.
That the man was still enamored with Caroline, there could be no doubt, but . . . what had been the real purpose behind Dudley revealing such sensitive information?
Had he hoped that Everett would reconsider his association with Caroline, and then, after reconsidering it, step aside to allow Dudley the opportunity of finally pursuing the woman of his dreams?
Oddly enough, after Caroline’s behavior of late, that idea held a certain appeal, but . . .
Shoving that completely ridiculous idea aside, Everett forced his thoughts in a different direction, summoning up all of Caroline’s positive attributes instead of her deficiencies. When he began struggling to summon up those positive attributes after less than a minute, he decided he simply wasn’t in the right frame of mind to tax his brain at the moment.
Turning toward his cottage, he drew in a deep breath and forced all unpleasantness aside as he took a moment to simply appreciate the beauty of Seaview, a building he hadn’t set eyes on for almost an entire year.
The businessman in him eyed the fine lines of the roof and the high-quality of the stone, while also appreciating the fact that he’d been able to negotiate a more than fair deal on the cottage since the original owner had wanted to complete the sale quickly and with as little fuss as possible.
