by Heather Boyd
“Who?” Jessica clung to Gillian’s hand tightly. “Papa wouldn’t marry without telling me first.”
Mrs. Warner glanced about the assembled ladies with a smug expression. Her friends straightened, smiling widely at everyone as if they knew more than they could say. “I suspect he’s already begun his courtship. It is just a matter of time before there is a wedding announcement in the London papers. St. George’s, of course. I expect that is why he is sending you to me.”
Gillian patted Jessica’s hand. It couldn’t be true. Jessica would never be so ruthlessly discarded by her doting father. Mrs. Warner must have misunderstood him about Jessica’s future.
“But this is excellent news for us too,” Mrs. Hawthorne exclaimed. “Mrs. Thorpe will be free to come to work for me now, and guide my dear Natalia toward her own happy marriage.”
Mrs. Hawthorne smiled broadly at Gillian as if her prayers had been answered. Gillian just stared at her. Surely she didn’t actually believe Mrs. Warner about this. And surely the Hawthorne’s could not afford to employ another servant, let alone the wages of a companion, after all she’d heard of their situation. “Will I?”
Mrs. Hawthorne leaned forward, eyes pleading. “Oh, do say you’ll come work with my daughters, Mrs. Thorpe. Everything will work out perfectly for all of us if you do.”
Gillian willed Jessica to be silent for a moment and think of who was sharing such bad news and why. Mrs. Warner had always tried to manage Jessica, like a doll or plaything. They may be sisters but the woman rarely listened to opinions that differed. “I have a position here.”
“Which will not continue when Jessica comes to live with me,” Mrs. Warner informed her briskly. “You cannot remain where you are not needed. Jessica will have my staff to take care of her. My guidance. No more gallivanting around this estate in a condition no properly bred young lady should be in. No more inappropriate conversations with unacceptable men. No more talk of fungus at the dinner table. It is high time I took over the girl’s education. She’s nearly ruined as it is.”
Mrs. Hawthorne gaped at Mrs. Warner, and as a worried frown filled her face, Gillian’s heart sank. Mrs. Hawthorne must regret her impulsive offer of employment now after that outpouring of spite. If Mrs. Warner spoke the truth of Nicolas’ plans, she would do her best to make Gillian unemployable too, just because Gillian had always spoken up when she disagreed over Jessica’s upbringing. “Her father has voiced no objections to my instruction.”
“What father truly knows what is best for an impressionable young woman in this day and age, I ask you?” Mrs. Warner shrugged and the gesture infuriated Gillian. “How can the girl make a suitable match if she’s left to rusticate here?”
“That is true,” Mrs. Hawthorne said softly, her gaze downcast. Worried. The Hawthornes could not afford the expense of a London season for their daughter, and everyone knew they depended on Natalia to make an excellent match.
Gillian caught Mrs. Hawthorne’s eye. “Natalia is pretty and accomplished enough to have her pick of any number of gentlemen when she comes out this spring.”
The girl was perhaps a bit too forthright at times, but was sure to choose wisely if given the right guidance. All she needed was to show a little more restraint when she met a new gentleman and she’d make a good match.
Mrs. Hawthorne beamed. “Thank you. I have such hopes for her and her younger sisters.”
If Nicolas did dismiss her earlier than she’d expected, and she took up the offered position with the Hawthorne’s, Gillian could very well be companion to the Hawthornes’ brood for years to come. She might never have money to spare again, the wages she was accustomed to receiving might have to be drastically cut, and she might have to hoard the money she’d saved for her old age, but remaining here would mean she might still be able to see Jessica from time to time.
Gillian forced a smile, but had the time to end her affair with Lord Stapleton arrived? She could not begrudge him the chance to be happy with another woman if he was done with her. He’d made her no promises. “I’d be very pleased to help you with your daughters, Mrs. Hawthorne, if Lord Stapleton does indeed mean to release me from his employment.”
“He can have no interest in stopping you from going where you are wanted,” Mrs. Warner exclaimed, dismissing her cruelly as if she were less than nothing to anyone.
Smarting inside, seething in impotence, Gillian forced herself to hide any true emotion and inclined her head gracefully.
Jessica shrank away from her. “My father would never send me away. He loves me.”
“Indeed he does,” Gillian promised.
Mrs. Warner looked upon Jessica with a calculated gleam in her eye. “You leave with me, dear sister. Everything is arranged, so there is no point arguing about it. I have already written to engage a proper music master to begin your instructions as soon as we return home. There will be fittings and dancing instruction and all the little things a companion can hardly know about for you to learn. We shall start over from scratch and truly make something of you.”
Jessica burst to her feet. “No! This is my home. I’m not going anywhere with you!”
Mrs. Warner sighed. “Young lady, properly raised young women do not yell. Ever. Mother would be so disappointed in you.”
Jessica gasped and fled the room.
Mrs. Warner had said the one thing that was unforgivable. Mentioning the mother Jessica had never known but longed for was cruel. Gillian stood to follow. “Excuse me.”
“No, leave her be,” Mrs. Warner said before turning to Mrs. Hawthorne. “This is exactly why she should have been in my care all along.”
Gillian shook her head stubbornly. “I am still the Duke of Stapleton’s employee, and he would not want his daughter neglected when she is upset. You have no idea how badly you just hurt her feelings by mentioning her mother in such a way. Excuse me, Mrs. Hawthorne, Miss Hawthorne. Ladies. I must see to my duties.”
She hurried after her Jessica, certain Mrs. Hawthorne’s offer of employment would come to nothing now. Which would leave her with exactly no place to go at short notice. She had money enough for the inn and mail coach to a place of new employment. She’d decide her direction later, but for the moment her first priority was making sure Jessica calmed down before she did anything she’d regret later.
When distraught, the girl usually went to one of two places—to her room, or out to the orangery. Since her bedchamber was empty, Gillian headed outside after procuring her heaviest cloak to keep her warm. Snow had been falling since daybreak and it was not difficult to detect footsteps headed in the direction of the distant building. She paused as she noticed a second, larger and deeper pair besides Jessica’s coming from the direction of the house too. Had Lord Stapleton followed his daughter from the house?
He was undoubtedly the best suited to reassuring the girl about this change of plans, but it would still be wise to see if she were needed anyway.
She slipped into the orangery and quickly shut the door to keep in the heat. Stapleton’s gardens boasted many such outbuildings. Forcing houses, walled gardens and more. There were so many places to explore with Jessica that appealed to the young girl’s curiosity and love of nature, while not technically being in the out of doors.
She looked to the end of the long room—and froze.
Jessica stood in the arms of a man who was most definitely not her father, and was crying piteously against the fellow’s dark cloak. His face was lowered to Jessica’s head, and as Gillian watched, he kissed her hair, her brow. He gently cupped the back of the girl’s head and seemed to be making love to her.
And Jessica was doing absolutely nothing to stop him.
Gillian loudly cleared her throat and the gentleman sprang back as if burned.
Gillian scowled. “Mr. Whitfield?”
He swallowed and glanced about him with a decidedly guilty expression. “Mrs. Thorpe. It’s not what you think.”
Gillian had seen those gentle kisses, and his br
ight blush confirmed her suspicions about his not-so-harmless interest in Jessica. She hurried forward and pulled the witless girl to her side. “Are you all right?”
Jessica nodded, hugged herself, and began sobbing anew.
“Oh Jess, darling. Do not cry.” Gillian took the girl into her arms and stared at Mr. Whitfield. “If you orchestrated this meeting for any untoward purpose I shall throw a pot at you, and then inform Lord Stapleton you cannot be trusted with his daughter.”
“No!” The man paled. “I didn’t follow her. I was already here, admiring Stapleton’s new raised flowerbeds. I swear, I turned around and she threw herself into my arms.”
The man appeared sincere, but those kisses meant something else entirely. “I see.”
He rubbed the back of his neck. “She is crying.”
Gillian found a handkerchief she kept in the pocket of her coat and dabbed at the girl’s damp cheeks. “It will be all right,” she whispered.
“No, it won’t,” Jessica wailed. “It’s going to be simply horrible.”
“May I ask what is wrong?” Whitfield asked.
“I lost my mother…now I am to lose my companion,” Jessica wailed. “I am to move to London and live with Mrs. Warner. I hate London. I hate Papa for sending me away!”
“You don’t hate him,” Gillian disagreed.
Mr. Whitfield appeared confused. “I thought you were looking forward to being out.”
“I shouldn’t have to leave my home for that to happen.”
“No, of course not.” The man glanced Gillian’s way, frowning. “Why send her away?”
“I’ve no idea.” Gillian sighed. She could not shake the embarrassment that she had failed the girl and not detected Stapleton’s displeasure with her teaching methods. Everyone had said the girl had mellowed since Gillian’s arrival, but apparently not enough to make her presentable to society without her sister’s intervention and influence. “It has apparently been decided that Jessica should spend some time with Mrs. Warner’s circle of friends before the season begins.”
“I am to be polished and made into a proper lady.” Jessica scowled again. “Mrs. Warner also says Papa is about to marry, too, which I cannot believe is true.”
He stared at them both. “Stapleton would tell you first if he had decided to remarry,” Whitfield promised.
Jessica sniffed. “I hope so.”
“I cannot imagine what would make him send you off to live with Mrs. Warner. He would not change a thing about you, Jessica. You are entirely without equal.”
Despite her upset, Jessica began to chuckle. “That is by far your most outrageous bit of flattery to date, Whitfield. I will miss our silliness and long walks.”
“So will I.” He pressed his lips together tightly, and then bowed. “Since your companion is on hand to offer you support, I should take my leave. Perhaps we might talk again before you go.”
“I’d like that,” Jessica promised. “Who knows when I might have leave to be myself again, as I am when I am with you. We have yet to discuss the growing of mushrooms.”
He smiled. “As always, the discussion of fungus at dinner enlivens my evenings immensely. Mrs. Thorpe, it will be a tragedy for the district if you leave Stapleton. You have made quite an impression on everyone here.”
“I might not go far in the end,” she mused. “Mrs. Hawthorne has just offered me a similar position to the one I have now.”
“That was very swiftly done,” Whitfield suggested, frowning. “I trust it is what you want.”
What she wanted was to stay until Jessica found a man worthy of her affection. She forced a smile. “Serendipity. A fortunate accident of timing, I’m sure.”
Whitfield did not appear convinced. But he nodded and took his leave.
Gillian waited a moment, and then held Jessica firmly by her shoulders. “What happened between you and Whitfield?”
The girl shrugged. “I mistook him for father, but by the time I noticed, I’d already been crying on his coat several minutes. He bore it well.”
Gillian was relieved. For a moment there, she had wondered if Whitfield had followed Jessica for an assignation. Jessica, of course, would never suspect his motives might have been less than pure, but Gillian saw his interest very plainly.
“Very well.” She tipped Jessica’s chin up. “May I offer you a piece of advice?”
“Of course.” Jessica caught her hand tightly. “I’d much rather hear yours than my sister’s any day.”
“Do not let anyone know Whitfield held you in his arms today, especially not Mrs. Warner.”
“Well, I do not confide in her ordinarily, but can I tell my father how kind he was?”
Gillian caressed the girl’s cheek. Had Gillian ever been so clueless when it came to the intentions of men? “Do you want to be married to Whitfield?”
The girl appeared horrified. “Marry Giddy?”
“He is considered by many—not Mrs. Warner, of course—to be a very eligible bachelor.” When the girl continued to stare, Gillian continued. “He is handsome, kind and wealthy enough to please many a parent. He could afford a family if he chose a wife. It is easy to see he likes you very much, and you like him too. He is also your papa’s friend, and I cannot think of a reason the duke would deny the match.”
The girl tipped her head to the side. “I like to talk to him. Giddy makes me laugh like no one can.”
“If that is the whole of your interest in him, then please make sure never to be alone with him again. People could misunderstand your relationship.”
Jessica’s eyes filled with tears. “How will I survive without you in London? You’re my best friend in the whole world.”
Gillian rubbed Jessica’s arm. “You will thrive in London whether I am there or not. I could never be your companion forever.”
“Father is not being fair.”
“Don’t say that,” she said quickly to head off a tantrum. “His grace takes more interest in your future than any father I’ve ever known. Please don’t be difficult about this if it is true. For my sake, if nothing else.”
Jessica’s bottom lip trembled. “Well, it’s not best for you to live with Miss Hawthorne and her sisters. They’re like wild animals. Natalia is still making eyes at Papa. Thank you for helping him avoid her this past week.”
“I haven’t helped him do any such thing, and he’s much too assured to need any assistance from a paid companion. He will choose well, never fear.” He’d never want Gillian for more. She was only a diversion from loneliness. Her heart pinched with unbearable pain still but she’d always known that to hope was to reach too high. “Have faith that your father knows what he’s doing is best for you.”
“I’ll never forget you.” Jessica embraced her, squeezing tightly. “Will you write to me?”
“Of course.” Gillian kissed the girl’s hair. In all the time she’d lived at the estate, she’d become very fond of the girl, tantrums and all. If Gillian ever married again and had a daughter, she’d name the child Jessica in remembrance of these happy months at Stapleton. “Nothing would please me more. I will always think of you and hope you are happy wherever you may find yourself.”
Chapter 11
One more day until the guests were due to depart. The longer it took to speak the words that filled his heart, the more nervous about the outcome Nicolas found himself. He’d even welcome the fisticuffs that had marked the beginning of his first engagement if it assured him of a favorable outcome.
Nicolas paused beside Gillian. “You are quiet tonight.”
Gillian startled but then smiled. “Am I?”
“Jessica is subdued too.” He observed his daughter carefully, looking for a cause of distress, and saw nothing obvious. She was seated beside Whitfield on the chaise across the room and appeared to be deep in conversation with him, most likely about their mutual interest in plants and nature. He was pleased his friend had returned to the gathering and made an effort to engage his youngest daughter in conve
rsation. Whitfield could be depended upon.
On the whole though, he’d become disappointed with this gathering. Nothing had really changed. Rebecca had promised that Jessica would have a chance to meet people. He’d thought she’d meant a younger-aged set. The only good to come of this Christmas was that he’d fallen hard for Gillian Thorpe, and he couldn’t wait to tell her. “Have you had a difficult day with her?”
“No, we had a very pleasant day. She took to her lessons eagerly this morning and then enjoyed luncheon with her sister. Later we spent some time in one of the forcing houses.” She swallowed. “How was yours?”
“Busy. I tell you truly that I cannot wait until everyone is out of my hair.”
Her chin lifted and she smiled at something across the room. “I’m very sure you will be happy to have your peace restored.”
“I am sorry about last night,” he whispered, just as Jessica gestured to Gillian to come to her. “My daughter and I had a chat last night and the plans for Jessica’s coming season have been improved somewhat.”
Gillian’s heart sank. Mrs. Warner had been correct after all.
“That is wonderful.” Gillian glanced at him quickly. “Please excuse me, your grace. Jessica needs me.”
When she walked away, Nicolas considered following her, taking her into his arms, and proving he needed her, too. But the room was full of people who would not take kindly to watching him kiss the woman he loved witless. They would not understand how difficult he was finding the waiting. It seemed nearly impossible to steal just enough time to string more than a handful of sentences together today, and he’d had so much more to say and no opportunity to do so.
