The Perfect Rose

by Diane Greenwood

  "I am relieved to hear that. Looks are not everything.” The soft voice faded.

  Brodie worked his way behind her and before she could protest he had grasped the cloak and tugged it from her shoulders. “Let me take your coat!” The hood fell back from her face. The two boys gasped their eyes wide.

  The soft voice grew huskier. “It'll be our secret, all right? If anyone sees this I'll be sent away? Do you understand?"

  The boys nodded. “Don't worry Torie, we can keep a secret.” Brodie put his small hand in hers. Justin took her other. “Come on, we'll show you up to your room. You can take your cloak with you just in case."

  * * * *

  For two days the boisterous boys and Torie had run of the house. The third floor nursery had the look of a toyshop hit by a storm. The old nanny, fondly known as Nanny Ada, was not much more than a retired servant. It was a godsend though, as her poor eyesight made it easier for Torie. The other servants seldom came up to the nursery as the boys had a penchant for pranks.

  Except at meal times it was not necessary to see anyone and even then the boys helped by meeting the maid at the door and bringing the tray to Torie themselves. When she did venture down to the lower floors or outside with the boys, Torie's cloak was second nature. She had hidden in it for so long it no longer seemed unnatural, even in the warmth of the midday sun.

  Torie had received no instructions in the letter she had received from Lord Lairdscroft retaining her services. Not that she was ignorant of her duty. She'd been a companion to the elderly and governess to the young for five years prior to Lairdscroft. But employers, especially the titled, had guidelines near to eccentricity on what they wanted their children to study.

  The boys were of the opinion she was there more as a playmate than a teacher and it was true Torie did run with them through the maze, the voluminous cloak becoming a fantasy monster to the boys, chasing them up and down the green paths. To balance this out she made them both pick up the nursery. The boys grumbled about this and gave her sullen looks but when she reminded them of the alternative and her imminent departure, they gave in to the task.

  Paints and toys were neatly tucked away and clothes thrown down the laundry chute, rather than on the floors. Dishes were found in the most amusing places and returned to the kitchens. The complacent Nanny Ada was more than happy to share the children. Torie found her a charming old woman, grown wizened and a bit muddled with age, but around her Torie could be herself with no hooded mask to disguise her curse; for all faces were a blur to Nanny Ada's rheumy eyes.

  On the third day after her arrival Torie woke from her pleasant bed in a cozy room next to the boys'. Silence greeted her. There was no whooping laughter; no cries from Brodie over Justin's teasing him by holding a favorite toy over his head, just out of reach. For though she had only been there three days, Torie knew the boys were highly spirited and happy, despite having only the one parent.

  Torie supposed this was a credit to his lordship. But she had no intention of finding this out first-hand. If her employer had seen her true state he would not have hired her. She'd faced the rejection before and found it easier to avoid confrontations altogether. Employers were busy people and could not trouble with the staff. She'd worked a full year at her last post before ever coming face to face with her employer and even then, with her hooded cloak, she'd passed as nondescript. If children did not grow older and go away to school, Torie would never have had to look for another post. She found as a companion to the elder it was a lot less heartbreak, but it was a dull life for one still young enough to yearn for laughter and childish adoration.

  This, she mused philosophically as she dressed in her practical white muslin, with a faded yellow sash tied about the waist. New lace had been stitched around the collar to refurbish the frayed edge and along the cuffs to cover where the sleeves were wearing thin. Torie did not bother with a mirror; she knew what sight would greet her. It was the first thing she forced herself to see in the morning and the last thing at night, until she had stopped looking into mirrors altogether. A curse they called it and no one knew better than Torie why that was so. It had cost her more posts in her younger naive years than she cared to remember. That was before she discovered people did not fear the unknown as much as the obvious and she had taken to hooded cloaks and anonymity.

  But for now she had her responsibilities. Where were those two rambunctious boys? She found them glum and seriously intent on hot bowls of oatmeal at the small nursery table set up for meals. They looked up and smiled.

  But the smile faded as Brodie ran to her, throwing his arms around her. “Torie! Justin says we can't play anymore. He says when father comes home today you will change and he'll send you away and we won't be friends anymore!” His small, candid gray eyes were bright with tears.

  Torie was touched the small boy had become attached to her so soon. Justin on the other hand was more cautious. “He will send you away if he sees the way you are, won't he?” His tone wavered despite his resolve to remain impartial.

  Torie smiled. “Yes, one way or the other he will send me packing."

  Brodie insisted, “What if he doesn't find out? It will still be our secret!"

  Justin frowned. Torie didn't know whether it was over deceiving his father or the thought of her leaving. Then his face lit up. “It could work! Father doesn't come up here. Hardly ever! We always go down to him. We eat in the dining room when he's home, but Nanny Ada eats up here. We can say you prefer that too! We can still go out and play. We'll just be more careful!"

  "I don't want to get you two in any trouble.” Torie didn't know what was worse, encouraging the children to deceive their father, or leaving the post with no reference and no money. Once again her face would be her downfall.

  Justin had the solution. “Don't worry, Torie. After a few months we'll tell father you're self-conscious about your looks. After you've settled in and he's seen how much Brodie needs you, he can't discharge you. Maybe someday he'll even see how you really are and he won't mind."

  "We'll see.” Torie was unsure, but she had little choice. Tomorrow always took care of itself.

  * * * *

  Late afternoon fell before there was the rumble of wheels and the sound of hooves on cobble. A retinue of personal servants paraded through the house, unloading and primping. The house servants suddenly came alive; dusters appeared in hands and polishing cloths were set into motion. It was now impossible to leave the third floor without being seen and Torie's misgivings began anew.

  She stayed upstairs while the boys scampered downstairs, whooping and hollering. Old Nanny Ada tottered after them; her doddering steps taking her only half the distance before the master of the house arrived. A second horse drawn vehicle pulled up outside and a blue and gold liveried servant held open the carriage door.

  Torie peered from a curtained window, careful to keep out of view as a tall, well-proportioned figure emerged. She could not make out the features but she could see thick, dark brown, longish hair tied in a Cadogan knot. His head inclined slightly toward the servant holding the carriage door. He strode up the stone steps easily. He was not young she was sure, but no gray fox either. Probably late thirties she presumed. No frothing lace dandy, but a prime dresser in an informal, white linen shirt, a cravat of white cambric, and a pastel pique waistcoat of light blue, carrying his overcoat and gray felt top hat.

  Torie tried not to stare at the gray-toned, tight-breeches encasing athletic thighs as the master of the house disappeared through the front doorway, but as he wore no frock coat, they were hard to miss. The fading sunlight caught the well-polished Hessian's on his feet reflecting a glare that caused Torie to draw back.

  She could hear the echoes of the children shrieking their welcome, and the tone of a manservant asking permission to take coat and hat. His lordship did not seem to stand on formality with his children as she heard a deep, throaty chuckle and Brodie's laughter. Torie could not help herself. She crept to the balustrade overlook
ing the floors below and peered down. The broad shouldered man dwarfed the little boy in his arms as he lifted Brodie high overhead and twirled him around.

  Justin stood slightly aloof, but when the tall man set Brodie on his feet and cocked an eyebrow at his oldest son, the boy smiled broadly and ran to his father for a generous hug.

  Torie's eyes misted as she remembered the past. She drew back hastily as Brodie's small finger's pointed upward. She could only make out the words ‘governess’ and ‘early’ from the youngster's lips, but his lordship seemed disinterested and instead took his sons by the hand and off they went into the inner recesses of the house.

  Well, that problem was settled! Nanny Ada had just begun descending the staircase and simply turned around and went back to the nursery. Apparently servants were sight unseen in this household. Thank heavens for that! Torie sighed. This might just work after all!

  * * * *

  It was a full week before a ripple in the pond appeared. Torie used her own experience to teach the boys. She kept them on the best schedule she could. They rose early, ate breakfast with her, then studied letters and arithmetic for approximately two hours. This all depended on their whims. Torie found the boys agreeable most mornings.

  But on a few mornings rebellion surfaced and there was little Torie could do but don her cloak and follow them; albeit slightly more sedately, out of doors and into the maze. She could do little to take the boys in hand on these days, as that would require consulting his lordship and having him interject discipline. Of course Torie could never face her employer. She could never face anyone.

  It was so frustrating! The boys were bright and sweet, but other than from their father, they did not always take orders well. They had grown up relatively wild; being motherless and this continued when their father was not in attendance, which was often it seemed. He had ties with Parliament that demanded much of his time.

  This, Torie had gleaned from the missive she had received retaining her services. The boys could just have well have been under the supervision of a tutor, but it seemed Lord Lairdscroft wanted them to have the less structured female guidance of a governess until it was time to send them away to school. Torie felt badly that the boys had no mother, but less structured did not mean running wild with no rules! If the boys were not prepared when they went away to school they would have a difficult time indeed, in the rigid world. It was Torie's job to make the transition smooth.

  She came upon the idea. If the boys did not want to study indoors on some mornings, she'd bring the studies to them. She made it a habit to carry a few books in the folds of her cloak; and when the boys had exhausted their excess energy and fell giggling to the grassy ground of the maze, Torie's husky voice would suddenly begin reciting, the low tones soothing and alluring, until small ears listened, engrossed. Soon she brought the small chalkboards from the nursery and the paint easels. It was not long before the children had to be reminded to stop for nuncheon.

  Sometimes this meal was eaten deep within the maze with Torie. But on days when his lordship was back early from surveying his lands and visiting tenants, the boys were summoned to the dining hall. At these times Torie would hastily tidy the boys and comb their rumpled hair while trying to smooth Brodie's contrary cowlick, before scurrying back to the upper recesses of the nursery in case his lordship came looking for his errant waifs.

  After nuncheon, the boys were commandeered into riding lessons. Lord Lairdscroft watched from the pasture rail as the riding instructor taught. At other times he became the instructor, his own horse saddled as he took the boys into the woods for a more relaxed ride. All this Torie watched from the sanctuary of the upper floor. Even from there she could hear the sound of gunfire. His lordship was not an avid hunter but he insisted his sons’ learn to shoot. Brodie confided to her that he was scared of the loud pop and always let Justin go first so he could plead tiredness and spend less time shooting.

  When the boys returned to the house they became Torie's again. Now subdued, they read aloud and recited a verse. Torie had them memorize a sentence a day, until at the end of the week they could recite from memory a whole passage. By the time lessons were over the hour for dinner was near and the boys must be properly attired for a formal meal. After supervising their wardrobe Torie saw them to the top of the stairway, watching from the inviolability of the shadows as they went to join their father.

  Sometimes he waited at the doorway of his study, brandy and cigar in hand; handsomely attired in black breeches and white satin brocade waistcoat, his dark double-breasted frock coat cut expertly, while a crisp silk cravat was tied intricately about his neck. At other times, he was at the entrance to the dining room; the candlelight sparkling off his lustrous brown hair; his face illuminated until Torie knew every feature. The wide forehead, thick brows over gray eyes; or maybe they were green like Torie's own. It was the one feature she could not discern. His patrician, slightly aquiline nose denoted good breeding while the wide, generous lips, no matter how solemnly set, always turned up at the corners when his sons came into view.

  It was the one thing Torie knew about him for sure. He did love his children. They stayed with him long after dinner and Torie would have loved to go down and see the trio sitting before a cozy fire, his lordship reading one of the leather bound volumes from the library aloud, his deep voice reverberating through the halls.

  Torie could not go down and see, or be seen; but she could listen. She sat at the top of the staircase, her cheek pressed to the cool wood of the balustrade, listening as the deep resonate tones of his lordship cut crisply through the house, clearly audible. She sighed, scrambling to her feet as the words stopped and she could hear the boys’ sleepy voices. Then Lord Lairdscroft came into view, a drowsy or sleeping child in each arm as he carried them upstairs. Torie almost ran to her practical but cozy room, next to the boys’ and watched through the crack of the door as each child was tucked deep under the covers and kissed on the forehead. Then he was gone and it was Torie's world again.

  Chapter Two

  The splash came when the children came back from their riding lesson and skipped through the doorway of the nursery. Justin was whistling and Brodie was mimicking him, though no sound came from his puckered lips. Justin halted when he saw Torie. Sometimes he just stared at her. Torie was used to it and was not bothered. Brodie just smiled as he said, “Father wants to see you."

  Torie was in the process of wiping the slates of the small chalkboards the children used. She frowned at this bit of news. It was bound to happen sooner or later. This was too soon though. She bit her lip in frustration and felt tears gather. It was not fair! She tried so hard. It was not her fault she looked as she did!

  Brodie's smile vanished. He ran to Torie. “It's going to be all-right. Don't cry Torie! Justin fixed it. Give her the letter, Justin!"

  Justin stepped forward proudly. “I told father you were marked with a curse and did not wish to be seen publicly. He did not question it and instead wrote you this letter.” Justin's assured hand held out a single sheet of paper.

  Torie breathed a sigh as she took the missive. It took only a moment to scan its brief contents. In thinly scrawled ink it welcomed her to Lairdscroft, wished her comfortable and well, and thanked her for her interest in his sons’ educations.

  Justin explained. “He asked what you were teaching us. We recited the verses you made us memorize. He was happy, even when Brodie forgot his lines.” He threw an intolerant glare at his younger sibling.

  "I couldn't help it, I got nervous.” Brodie squirmed. “'Side's, father says I can come to the party anyway."

  "Party?” Torie questioned.

  Justin explained. “Father entertains a lot. Mostly in town at the house he leases for the season. But this time of year he invites many important people to come to Lairdscroft for dinner and an occasional rout. We've never been allowed to stay up that late, but this year father thinks it will be beneficial for us to attend. You're invited too, Torie."
<
br />   "I? Me?” Torie dropped the letter. “I can't..."

  "We'll think up something so you don't have to. Anyway, it's not for another month and we have to be fitted for new formal clothes.” Justin punctuated this by slapping his knee causing a cloud of dust to rise from his riding breeches. “Father insists. He's sending someone down from London and you're to have a new dress, too. Father's orders."

  Torie guessed ‘father's orders’ were never contradicted. “But it will be wasted on me. I can't possibly attend!"

  "You'd best go along with it. Father can well afford it and he'll be suspicious if you refuse. Don't worry, we'll come up with a good excuse for you not to attend.” Justin was proud of his new status.

  Brodie always the optimist volunteered. “You'll have a new dress anyway. We can play dress up and you can wear it just for us!"

  Torie was not so easily appeased. She knew a dress fitting was just that and she would have to be measured. She must think this over.

  * * * *

  The next few weeks passed quickly, as is always the way when apprehension prevails over one's spirit. And as is the way things were not as bad as they first appeared. The tailor came and measured the boys. He brought with him a capable lady of no means and of plain countenance who relied on his meager salary to keep her fed.

  Torie fretted on this news and kept the woman waiting for an hour before she lit on an idea. Brodie was sent for the third time to bring her down to the second floor where the fitting was being held. He looked uncertain and scared as he looked Torie over. Even in the modestly cut plain brown linen there was no disguising her problem. He was young but not silly enough to recommend her wearing the cloak and hood. And unlike Nanny Ada, the seamstress had excellent eyes, owing to the fact she wore spectacles to aid in small, undetectable stitches.

  "What are we going to do, Torie? Justin said he would come up with an idea but he couldn't, and now they're waiting! They've even sent for father! He could give a flying fig about these fittings but he'll be mad at being bothered. Please think of something. I don't want you to have to go. Please!"