Watching him go, Daisy wasn’t certain if she wanted to be amused. She knew she ought to be insulted. At least in part. But there had been something refreshing in hearing another say the name written in her heart.
The truth was, she would much rather be Daisy than Augusta. Daisy was a happy, cheerful girl who laughed whenever she wished. Augusta was more proper and worked to fulfill the role others had set for her. She looked down at the purple petals of the asters.
“You need water before you wilt. I suppose we flowers must look after each other.” She hid her smile when entering the vicarage, her basket tucked close to her side.
Chapter Nine
Daisy walked with purpose, her chin thrust forward and her shoulders straight. Down the road she went, kicking up yellow and orange leaves in her path. Her mind tumbled with conflict. Three days previous she’d brought up her idea of a school to everyone who paid her a visit, only to be laughed at and dismissed by three matrons and their daughters.
The day before, she’d paid some of her own calls to other women of esteem. Their responses to her idea of a school for farmers’ and merchants’ daughters had been varied, and none of them what she hoped.
“Those girls in school? What use would knowing the kings of England do a woman whose only job is to cook and clean for her family?”
“They would take on airs and never amount to anything.”
“You ruin people like that with education. They start expecting more than they can have.”
“I doubt many of them have the brains for schooling. Poor breeding, you know.”
Daisy’s fists clenched as she walked. Her father had put up with her brooding, but after a time her morose thoughts gave way to her temper.
“You will either damage yourself or my belongings if these keeps up,” he’d said when she’d forcefully shelved some of his books. “Take your frustration out of doors, Augusta. Return when you have hold of yourself.”
He’d glared down his nose at her, but she’d caught the gleam of concern in his eyes. Then he’d added, most unhelpfully, “Not everyone is as receptive to new ideas as you are, my dear.”
It wasn’t really a new idea, to educate children who otherwise might not receive schooling. She’d heard of a countess in Suffolk who held a Sunday seminary for girls, teaching them the Bible, and morals, and etiquette befitting a servant. There were schools in London, too, for the poor children. Ragged schools, they were called.
Some of Daisy’s frustration escaped her in a puff of air. Perhaps her plans were rather ambitious, but they were well meant and she could carry them out with success. If only people would listen and give her a chance.
Daisy left the main road, entering the property of the Gilbert family. She’d decided to make her walk useful by returning Harry Devon’s handkerchief. Hopefully, he would be at Whitewood working matters out with his solicitor, or steward, or whoever else he intended to speak to in regard to his estate. If she could speak to Mrs. Gilbert, she felt certain the woman would not make much fuss over the return of her brother’s personal belonging. Christine Gilbert wasn’t known for being overly conservative, after all.
Daisy knocked on the front door nearly the same instant it was opened. She lowered her eyes to see the eldest Gilbert child standing there, looking up at her with wide brown eyes.
“Miss Ames,” he said, his face lighting up. “Did you bring any sweets?”
“Charles,” his mother said from behind him, obviously exasperated as she bustled through the entryway toward him. “If you are going to open the door to a guest, please greet them politely.” Her eyes twinkled merrily and she raised her eyebrows at her son, prompting him to sigh in a put-upon manner.
“Good morning, Miss Ames. Please come inside.” He stepped aside, pulling the door all the way open.
Daisy’s humor improved a margin as she stepped inside. “Thank you, Charles. I am afraid I haven’t any sweets this time, but I remember you favorite is molasses candy. If you will come say hello to me after services on Sunday, I will be sure to have one for you.”
His grin reappeared. “Thank you, Miss Ames.”
“Off you go,” Mrs. Gilbert said, waiving him out the front door. “You need to attend to your riding lesson.”
He bowed to his mother and Daisy, then the boy was off as quickly as the colts his father raised.
“Excuse us, Miss Ames.” Mrs. Gilbert extended her hand to indicate a side parlor. “Please, come inside. It has been an age since we have visited together.”
Daisy followed the woman inside, not removing her bonnet or jacket. She had no intention of staying long.
Once seated across form her, Mrs. Gilbert folded her hands in her lap. “It is lovely to see you today. I am sorry we didn’t have the opportunity to visit at the ball. Did you enjoy that evening?”
As it was nearly a week past, and Daisy’s thoughts had been on her present disappointment, it took her a moment to answer. “The ball? It was most enjoyable. I always look forward to dancing.”
“I believe you danced a set with Harry?” Mrs. Gilbert said, her tone nothing but cordial.
“Yes, he is a talented dancer. I believe many young ladies enjoyed his partnership that evening.” Daisy shifted in her seat, adjusting the ribbons of her purse. “I think he may become something of a favorite in the neighborhood.”
“He might indeed. I have had one or two ladies call upon me with the obvious hope of meeting him while they visited.” The woman’s eyes twinkled merrily, as though the visits were a matter to be laughed at.
Daisy smiled, too, though she wondered that Mrs. Gilbert wasn’t irritated by visits of that nature. Daisy certainly would be. “I understand he has been very busy with his estate’s business.” She opened her reticule. “In fact, I have come hoping he would not be present. I have an article of his to return, and I did not wish to disturb him.” She took out the handkerchief. “Could you see that he receives this?”
Mrs. Gilbert’s eyebrows came down as she accepted the white linen, studying it with interest. “It is his. I recognize the pattern. Our sister, Mrs. Hastings, gave Harry a whole box full of embroidered handkerchiefs.” She placed the folded square in her lap and fixed Daisy with a look of curiosity. “May I ask how you came by it?”
“He came upon me picking blackberries, and I am afraid I caught my hand on a thorn. Mr. Devon offered his handkerchief as a bandage.” There. She managed to speak the whole of it without stammering or, thankfully, blushing. Daisy relaxed, pleased to have the errand and explanation over with.
“It seems you two have been seeing a great deal of each other,” Mrs. Gilbert said, eyebrows arching while one corner of her mouth pulled to the side.
Daisy blinked, the tension immediately returning to her shoulders. “Only in passing, I assure you, Mrs. Gilbert.” Heat bloomed in her cheeks. “No more than I see any other neighbors.”
Mrs. Gilbert’s eyes crinkled at the corners. “Really? I hope Harry is proving himself a good neighbor. It is always useful to have a kind gentleman willing to offer aid to a young lady.” She glanced away, her fingers tracing the edge of the handkerchief. “He has spoken highly of you, Miss Ames. Mr. Gilbert and I believe that you gave him some very good advice about his estate.”
“Me?” Daisy asked, surprise startling the word from her. “I am afraid I cannot claim such a thing. We have barely spoken.”
“Yet you have given Harry a great deal to think about.” Mrs. Gilbert lowered her chin to fix Daisy with a solemn stare. “Harry is a good man. Intelligent and kind. But I am afraid he hasn’t had much in the way of direction the past few years. He has three sisters rather than a mother or father to guide him, and we have busied ourselves with our husbands and children. Harry credits you with the idea for him to learn from the men who have looked after things for him. His steward, his solicitor.”
Daisy’s blush refused to dissipate. “I am happy to have helped in any way, of course, but I am certain Mr. Devon would have come to such a
decision on his own.”
“Eventually, perhaps.” Mrs. Gilbert tilted her head to the side. Daisy attempted not to fidget while under the scrutiny of the older woman. “You seem out of sorts, Miss Ames. Is there anything the matter?”
It would be easy, and perhaps the politest thing, to simply deny any difficulties and be on her way. But, as she had told herself earlier, Daisy knew Mrs. Gilbert wasn’t one to always behave in a traditional manner. People knew she ran the horse farm alongside her husband, and that she spoke her mind more often than not. Daisy had always rather admired Mrs. Gilbert for those things.
“There is something bothering me, Mrs. Gilbert. I am not certain you wish to hear of it. It is only a dream of mine that I am afraid may never come to pass.” Her voice cracked awfully on the last word. Daisy blinked rapidly, forcing away the tears before they dared fall. “I apologize, I ought—”
“Nonsense,” Mrs. Gilbert said, moving from her chair to sit beside Daisy on the couch. “Dreams are important things. If you are comfortable speaking of it, please know you can confide in me.”
“It isn’t a secret.” Daisy tried to laugh, but the sound was rather strangled. “I have spoken to several ladies of my plans this very week. I am attempting to—that is, I would like—” She broke off again and shook her head.
“Oh, dear.” Christine handed her the handkerchief she’d only just returned.
“I cannot take this,” she said, opening her reticule and shuffling her things around only to find she’d somehow forgotten to put a handkerchief of her own inside. With a sigh of frustration, she took Harry’s and used it to dry her eyes.
“Miss Ames, would you like something to drink?” Mrs. Gilbert sounded gentler than Daisy had ever heard her, and she laid a kind, sisterly arm around Daisy’s shoulders.
“No. I am sorry. This is ridiculous. It has been a trying week. You see, I wish to start a school in the village. Not a boarding school, but a school for the daughters of farmers and merchants, for tenants’ daughters.” She didn’t look up to Mrs. Gilbert’s eyes. Daisy didn’t think she could face more criticism or laughter. Yet she continued speaking, worrying the linen cloth in her hands. “I wish to provide them with enough of an education to better their lives, no matter what they choose to do. A woman who can read, who is trained to practice intelligence, would be a boon to any family, poor or rich. I am prepared to teach only a few hours every day, so the girls can fulfill their family duties.
“I wish to lease a room in the village, large enough and with a stove for warmth, to have at least ten students at a time. I need more books, and slates. Just a few things, really, but they would help me to start. I have enough saved to lease the room above Mrs. Chandler’s shop for four months. I am hoping to secure more time with help from our neighbors.”
“That doesn’t sound unreasonable,” Mrs. Gilbert said slowly. “You were soliciting funds?”
Daisy nodded. “And support. I would need people in the community to help, to encourage parents to send their daughters to me. But everyone I have spoken to thus far has seemed to think the whole idea a jest.”
Mrs. Gilbert patted Daisy gently on the shoulder. “Did they say why?” she asked quietly.
“Yes.” Daisy took in a deep breath before listing everything that had already been said to her, about the general ignorance of children from lower classes, about the uselessness of the plan, and every other remark meant to discourage her. Finally, she gulped back her tears, dried her face with the handkerchief, and fell silent. She didn’t look at Mrs. Gilbert, though the woman had removed her arm.
“I am sorry to trouble you with this, Mrs. Gilbert,” she said after the silence had stretched for several moments.
“What troubles me,” Mrs. Gilbert said, “is that you have not received more support. I find your idea to have real merit.”
Nothing could have surprised Daisy more. She lifted her eyes from her lap at last, seeing Mrs. Gilbert’s concerned frown. “Really?”
“Yes. I can think of a dozen ways an education would aid a family. To be honest with you, Miss Ames, I have thought at times that I wished to do more for people like the Thatchers. They have beautiful children, their mother is an angel on earth, but not one of them knows how to read. They will have trouble enough finding positions for all their children. They would be suitable for more trades, more sorts of employment, with a little education.” Mrs. Gilbert nodded to herself. “I would like to help you, Miss Ames.”
Daisy risked turning into a watering pot again, this time from being treated with honest interest. “That is wonderful, Mrs. Gilbert.”
“I can think of a few other ladies who might be more receptive to your idea,” Mrs. Gilbert added. “Starting with Lady Annesbury.”
Daisy hadn’t even dared to think of approaching the earl’s wife. But Mrs. Gilbert and Lady Annesbury were cousins; if Mrs. Gilbert thought it a good idea, Daisy must approach the countess.
Mrs. Gilbert went to a small desk in the room. For another quarter of an hour, Mrs. Gilbert wrote down names and ideas for Daisy, speaking all the while of the ways in which a school for the girls of Annesbury village would raise the entire community’s standards. The woman spoke with an enthusiasm that lifted Daisy’s spirits considerably, and by the time she walked out the door with the paper in her hands, her dream had righted itself.
Her original purpose had been quite forgotten until she opened her reticule at home and saw she’d stuffed Harry Devon’s handkerchief back inside. Taking it out, Daisy shook her head at herself. She would need to launder it all over again, and make another attempt at returning it.
Daisy hummed a waltz to herself as she laid the handkerchief upon her dressing table, along with Mrs. Gilbert’s notes.
§
Slumping into a chair in the parlor, Harry folded his arms over his chest and glared into the hearth. “I need a new steward.” The realization had been building for some time, but had finally settled firmly that very day. The steward had proudly shown Harry how he had saved money by giving the servants second-hand gifts on boxing day, two years running.
Christine looked up from the book she had been reading. Her husband was stretched out upon a couch, both eyes closed, but he spoke first. “I knew you would come to that conclusion.”
“The steward is too set in his ways—ways Father approved of, but I cannot think are wise. His only concern is the money coming into the estate. He never thinks about the tenants, the servants, or the community.” Harry sunk further down in his seat. “He appears to be an honest man, but not a kind one.”
“What will you do with him?” Christine asked, laying a ribbon in her book before closing its covers. “Is he old enough for a pension?”
Harry considered for a moment, then nodded. “I think so. I can offer that, but if he wishes to keep working I can give him a good reference.” He groaned and pushed himself into a more dignified posture. “I will need to find a new steward immediately.”
“It shouldn’t be too difficult,” Thomas said, still unmoving. “Advertise, check references. Perhaps write to Christian, he may know of someone to fill the position. Or Lucas.”
Asking for help from his brother-in-law, or cousin-in-law, wasn’t entirely appealing. Would he forever be dependent on his relatives? Of course, they were both earls, with seats in the House of Lords, which made them extremely well-connected.
“That would probably be the best thing to do.” Harry folded his arms over his chest. “Do you oversee all your own finances, Thomas?”
His brother-in-law opened one eye and smirked. “Father helps with the household management at this time, though I have been considering finding a steward. But Christine and I handle all the finances related to the horses.”
Harry looked to his sister with some surprise. “Really? I thought you only concerned yourself with bloodlines.”
Christine’s smirk appeared and she shook her book at him. “That is because you never knew how well I do with sums. It isn’t a tale
nt I bandy-about.”
“Why ever not? I could ask you to be my steward.” Harry chuckled and tilted his head back against the chair. “I admire the way the two of you work together so well. Your horses have given you a great deal of success.”
“They have,” Thomas admitted, his eyes both closed again. “And though it has been a great deal of work, it has been worth every moment to reach this point.”
“Achieving a dream is most fulfilling.” Christine rose and went to the couch, lightly tapping her husband’s knee until he moved his legs onto the floor. He sat up and opened an arm for her to snuggle against his side. Harry watched with a fascinated sort of envy. The two of them seemed to have everything they needed to be content. They had their home, their horses, their children, and each other. Christine and Thomas knew where they belonged, and with whom. They had plans as settled and sure as the foundation of their house.
What would it take for him to find such happiness?
“And as we are on the subject of dreams,” Christine continued, oblivious to Harry’s internal musings. “Miss Ames was here earlier today.”
Harry’s attention immediately jumped to his sister. “She was?” he blurted loudly, without thinking. “What was Miss Ames doing here?”
Christine turned toward him, her brow creased. “She came to return your handkerchief. Then we discussed her plans for a girls’ school.”
“I am sorry I missed her visit,” Harry said, deflating slightly. Had she asked after him? She likely guessed he would be at Whitewood, since he told her that’s where he spent his days. Daisy, for he could hardly think of her as anything else, had purposefully come when he would not be present. Had he offended her again somehow?
His sister was staring at him with a peculiar, tight-lipped expression. Harry swiftly latched on to the latter part of her explanation. “A girls’ school?”
“Mm.” Christine regarded him a moment longer, looking as though she meant to puzzle him out. “She wishes to open a school for the village girls, to give them a basic education in reading, writing, arithmetic, etiquette. To help better them and their future prospects for employment and families. I think it is a marvelous idea.”
Courting the Vicar's Daughter: A Regency Romance (Branches of Love Book 6) Page 9
