Pleasing the Colonel

by Renee Rose

  “Thank you, that would be delightful,” she said, though she really felt it would be anything but. Ever efficient, the Colonel asked Mr. Belford to send a servant to show the two drivers where to find the furniture for loading and to prepare the horses. At lunch the Colonel made polite conversation with Mr. Belford, and she was pleased to notice that Mr. Belford seemed properly impressed with him, having heard of his military career and his relations.

  “I think it's quite generous of you to have taken on Miss Downy, considering her lack of experience,” Mrs. Belford had the nerve to say.

  Mandy clamped her teeth together. That wretched woman was trying to embarrass her. Not that she could possibly have known that Mandy had lied about her references… unless the neighbor who had vouched for her had told her. Her eyes narrowed slightly and she was filled with a sudden sense of loathing. They meant to embarrass her in front of the Colonel.

  * * *

  “I consider myself immensely fortunate to have hired someone as qualified and intelligent as Miss Downy. I can't imagine there's a better governess to be had, frankly,” the Colonel interjected, irritated that Miss Downy's relatives would treat her so wretchedly.

  He watched Miss Downy flush and flash him a look of gratitude, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. It made him even more angry to see how much his defense meant to her. Somehow this poor young lady had taken the responsibility for her entire family after her father's death, and these relatives had not helped her at all. It was despicable. He felt like throttling the pompous Belford right there.

  “So what will you ever do with the furniture? I hope it hasn't turned to rot sitting in our stable all this time.” Belford placed a subtle emphasis on “our stable,” as if to remind Miss Downy that none of this belonged to her anymore.

  “The Colonel has kindly offered to store it for me,” she answered matter-of-factly.

  Lunch was concluded and he had no intention of dawdling there allowing the Belfords to continue to insult his governess. He went directly outside to see that his men had completely loaded the furniture and hitched the ponies to a lead attached to the wagon.

  “We will be off then,” he said rather curtly.

  “Give our regards to your mother,” Mr. Belford said to Miss Downy as she bid them goodbye.

  It lacked sincerity, and Miss Downy smiled tightly. “Thank you, I will.”

  He offered her one hand and used the other on her low back to help her into the carriage. Her waist was so slender and pleasing to touch that he found himself wishing he could assist her climbing in and out of carriages all day. He climbed in after her, settling in for the return carriage ride. He watched with amusement as Miss Downy stole glances at him and then chewed her lip nervously.

  “What are you frowning about?” he asked at last.

  She tugged at her locket—a nervous gesture he'd noticed previously. “I'm just realizing that perhaps I am wasting your time and resources.”

  “How do you mean?”

  “Well, the truth is, I insisted my cousin save our furniture more out of ire with him than out of any true sentimentality. The ponies, I do indeed love, but the furniture… I mean, it's not that I am so very attached to it, although some pieces are quite nice. It's more that I couldn't stand the idea of Belford throwing our things away, or selling them for a pittance.”

  He nodded his understanding.

  “But now you've gone to all this trouble to come here and load it up… and I'm a bit embarrassed, actually. Not all of it is high quality and…”

  He couldn't help but chuckle—she was adorable. She looked at him in surprise. “You amuse me, Miss Downy.”

  She looked disconcerted. “How so?”

  He looked out the carriage window for a moment, thoughtfully, then back at her, hiding a smile. “You are…” he waved his hand. “I don't know. I find your confession quite charming.” He smiled at her with fondness.

  She blushed. “You're not angry? To have gone to all this trouble of hitching a wagon and carting the furniture all the way back just because I didn't want to give my cousin the satisfaction of disposing of it himself?”

  He smiled at her indulgently. “I don't mind in the slightest. Your cousin treated you poorly and you deserve to preserve your dignity by having your belongings restored to you.”

  She sat back with a shocked look on her face. He laughed again. “Does that surprise you, Miss Downy?”

  She met his eye and he was surprised to see tears glistening there again. “Thank you,” she said with sincerity. “Truly.”

  His heart tugged at that. She was pure sweetness. He reached over to pat her hand but before he knew it, he had picked it up and was drawing it toward his mouth. Fortunately, he stopped himself in time—it was not acceptable to kiss the inside of her wrist, nor to pull her into his arms, nor to kiss those raspberry lips. Instead he squeezed her hand and offered understanding, “You know, Miss Downy, you've taken on an enormous responsibility since your father died—handling your family's financial matters without any help.”

  Her composure broke and she choked back a sob. He rubbed his thumb soothingly over the back of her gloved hand.

  “My father asked me to take care of my mother and my sister after he'd gone,” she said in a strangled voice. “And I've done the best I can, but it hasn't been enough. We are all separated, and neither of them is happy with their new situation.”

  “You said your sister is a governess in Banford?” he asked gently.

  She looked at him ruefully. “Yes. Is there nothing I said the night of the carriage accident that you didn't commit to memory?”

  He chuckled. “Not all of it was damaging,” he reassured her.

  “I miss my father so much,” she burst out confidingly. “I never knew how quickly and completely one's world could change.”

  His own heart constricted. He remembered that feeling distinctly from his wife Gracie's death. “Aye, death is a cruel mistress,” he said with feeling. “Anyway, I don't want you to feel as though you must shoulder it all alone. I am here to help.”

  She sniffled. “I am overwhelmed by your generosity.”

  He released her hand and gave her his handkerchief.

  After a moment, she looked at him with an impish little smile growing on her lips. “I must confess that I'm not truly sorry that I lied about my references, else I never would have gained your employ.”

  He tried to frown, but failed completely and laughed instead. “I cannot approve of your methods,” he said, “but I'm not sorry either.”

  * * *

  Perhaps because traveling alone with him made Mandy realize just how kind the Colonel was underneath his cold exterior, she began to deplore the stiffness in him even more. Observing him with the children, she noted how they still had not warmed up to him—their own father—and remained formal and nervous in his presence. Considering the children had no parent but him, this seemed tragic.

  She noted it particularly when he joined their riding lesson later in the week. His very presence made both children, and therefore the horses, nervous. Fortunately, he had a good way with the animals and he soothed Dusty, her own pony from Helmcamp, which she had chosen as the perfect mount for the children. She had grown up riding Dusty and he was calm and reliable. She had the stable boy saddle him after showing the children how to brush him and feed him a few small carrots.

  The Colonel's presence made her nervous, too, she realized. She felt self-conscious about her teaching skills. “Rosie, you'll ride first. Come climb up on this rail, please. All right, now.” She lifted the girl onto the horse, sitting astride. “I'm having her learn to ride astride first, sir,” she said, feeling compelled to explain herself. “Then she can transition to side saddle when she's a bit older and more comfortable.”

  “Agreed.”

  She took the lead rope and led Dusty out of the stable into the open air. Rosie had a huge smile on her face as she held the reins.

  “Not so tightly, no—hold right h
ere,” the Colonel corrected Rosie's grasp on the reins. “Now sit taller. Sit straight through your spine. That's it. You're leaning to one side. Move to your left. Your left!”

  Rosie struggled to follow her father's barked commands, getting more and more anxious. Dusty pulled at the lead rope to look back at his rider. Mandy corrected the pony and soothed him by stroking his head.

  “All right, now move the reins this way to show him how to turn. More. More.”

  So the lesson continued, with the Colonel giving the commands and his daughter trying her best to follow them. By the time he helped her down, the little girl's smiles had disappeared completely and she looked rather withdrawn.

  “All right, Tom, are you ready for a turn?”

  The little boy, normally fearless to try anything, looked doubtful. “I want to go with Miss Downy.”

  “Yes, dear, I will walk with you, just like I did for Rosie.

  “No, I want only Miss Downy,” the boy insisted.

  “Don't be ridiculous,” the Colonel snapped and lifted the boy onto the pony. He placed the reins in his little hands and kept one hand on his back to hold him in place as Mandy slowly led the pony around. Tom didn't make a single sound and his face was screwed up tightly with nerves. After walking him back and forth a bit, the Colonel deemed the lesson over and lifted the child down.

  “Rosie, would you like another turn?”

  “No, sir,” the child mumbled.

  “It takes practice to become a good rider, Rosie. If you're going to be lazy about it, I'm not going to take the time to teach you.”

  At that, Rosie's face slowly crumpled as she appeared to be trying not to cry. Curse him! Mandy shot a nasty look at the Colonel as she put her hand on Rosie's shoulder and turned her toward the manor. “Come on, sweetheart, let's go have a cup of chocolate,” she said, holding her other hand out behind her for Tom to catch as he ran up to them.

  At dinner that night, Tom chattered excitedly about riding Dusty to his Aunt. “His name is Dusty,” he told her. “And he's very tall. And I learned to make this noise,” he said clicking his tongue as if urging the pony along.

  Miss Watson laughed and said, “That's perfect, Tom!”

  Tom climbed to his knees on his chair to look at her better and in the process, knocked over his glass of milk.

  “Tom, sit down! Look what you've done now!” the Colonel barked at him. The boy, who'd had a rather long day with the riding lesson, burst into a loud wailing cry. “That's enough!” the Colonel snapped.

  Mandy had righted the glass immediately and was mopping up the spilled milk with a napkin. Julie appeared in the doorway at the sound of Tom's cries, ready to whisk him away. Mandy stood up herself, scooping Tom into her arms. “I'll take him, she said grimly to Julie, then glared at the Colonel as she marched out. Really, that man was too much! It was one thing to be stern with the staff, but his children were simply children. He had absolutely no sensitivity to their feelings, nor had he really tried to get to know them in any meaningful way.

  She carried Tom upstairs and rocked him to sleep in the nursery. Julie appeared with Rosie in tow and put her to bed. She sat beside the girl's bed after Julie had kissed her goodnight and left. “Your papa loves you very much,” she said.

  Rosie looked at her, as if measuring the truth of her words. The child was only seven but already she was perceptive enough to know when an adult was just saying something to make her feel better. “It's true,” she said firmly. “He just doesn't know how to act around children. He's been ordering around soldiers for years now, and he needs to be taught how to treat a child.”

  “Who is going to teach him?” Rosie asked.

  She met the girl's frank stare and took a deep breath. “I guess that's my job,” she said resolutely. “I will go speak with him now,” she said, kissing the girl's forehead and then standing up.

  * * *

  “Come in,” the Colonel called to the knocking on his study door.

  Miss Downy entered, looking disgruntled. “I'd like a word with you, if you don't mind.”

  He set down the paper he was reading. “No, I don't mind. Would you care to sit down?”

  “No, I wouldn't,” she said firmly and started pacing around his room. “I think you probably already know that—that I find you more than a little frightening.”

  He raised his eyebrows. Whatever he'd expected she might say, it was not this.

  “Well, I do. And I'm fairly certain your entire staff does, too. You never laugh, you rarely smile, and hearing praise from you is so unusual that I assume it's not genuine when it is given.”

  He frowned and was about to tell her she was completely out of line, but she interrupted him.

  “None of that would matter to me, except that it affects your children. Your children, Colonel. They're just children! You simply must be a little more sensitive when dealing with them. They are not soldiers.”

  “Are you referring to the riding lesson?” he demanded, trying to understand where her ire had originated.

  “It's not just that! They hardly know you after you've been away at war for over a year, and then you come marching into their lives, issuing commands without even trying to understand them!”

  He stared at her. “What exactly has upset you?”

  “Upset me?” she asked, looking disconcerted. “I'm not upset, the children are. Well, yes, it's about the riding lesson—but it's about more than that. Have you tried spending time just playing with them, or laughing, or reading to them?”

  He opened his mouth, but she plunged on. “No, you have not. They only hear from you when you are displeased. You really don't know them at all. Do you have any idea that Rosie has two loose teeth, for example? Or that Tom is afraid of thunder?” She paused, her arms folded across her chest. “Do you know what their favorite things to eat are? Or how easy it is to make them laugh?”

  He narrowed his eyes, standing up from behind the desk. “Why are you so upset, Miss Downy?”

  “I'm not—well, it's just that I care,” she said and then flushed, “—about the children, I mean—not about you. I mean, I do care about you—” She flushed even deeper. “For heaven's sake, Colonel Watson, this is not about me!” she snapped shrilly.

  “Kindly mind your tone when you speak to me,” he said quietly.

  “I apologize,” she said, swallowing. “But you are the only parent Tom and Rosie have. They do not have a mother to reassure them that their Papa is not really to be feared. No mother to tell them that he may seem gruff, but he's actually the kindest man she knows.”

  He was vaguely pleased to hear that she found him kind. But then she ruined it by appearing suddenly shocked and saying, “Or perhaps their mother was afraid of you too?”

  Hearing her mention Gracie angered him. “You have no right—” he thundered, but the fear on her face made him stop and take a deep breath.

  “I know I don't,” she whispered, backing toward the door. “But I promised Rosie I would talk to you.”

  That cut him to the heart. Rosie had asked for help? With him? The pain of it burned him and he hardly noticed as Miss Downy slipped out the door. He sat down at his desk, his eyes burning. Perhaps he was too gruff with the children. He put his head in his hands. He suddenly missed Gracie as deeply as he had during the months right after her death. Miss Downy was right—his children needed their mother. And more importantly, so did he. Without Gracie, he was utterly lost with their children.

  He tossed and turned all night, alternating between feeling guilty, composing an angry defense to Miss Downy, and in his better moments, thinking about how he could make things better for the children. There were also thoughts about Miss Downy's blush when she'd said she didn't care about him. Why had she made such an impassioned plea? Did she care more than she admitted? But that line of thinking was irrelevant, because he wasn't going to pursue Miss Downy. He'd already experienced the pain of losing a wife—he had no interest in opening himself up to that sort of pai
n a second time. Except that he found that the more he turned all the thoughts over in his head, the more he became clear that he cared very much about Miss Downy's impression of him. It disturbed him greatly to think that she was truly afraid of him, and that she did not think he was a good father to his children.

  He woke the next morning feeling as confused as he'd been the night before.

  “Good morning, Lucinda, Miss Downy,” he said stiffly at the breakfast table.

  Miss Downy's butter knife clattered to the floor and she looked flustered. “Oh! Oh dear. Good morning, Colonel,” she said, ducking her head under the table to retrieve it. He sat down and noted that though she seemed to be stealing glances at him when he wasn't looking, she refused to meet his eye. He felt a wave of reluctant gratitude that she had spoken to him, despite her fears. She truly cared about his children—if not him. The trouble was, he was starting to want her to care about him.

  Deciding a ride would clear his head, he went to the stables and had Banto saddled. He took off without a particular direction in mind and ended up riding past his neighbor's property. He saw his neighbor's children—who were almost too old to be out romping around—playing with a dog. He slowed his horse to watch. A dog. Yes! It would be a perfect way to lighten the mood with his children. He recalled hearing his neighbor say that they'd had a litter of collie puppies. He led his horse up to the children to inquire and left with a squirming, happy little puppy tucked inside his coat.

  He returned home and left the puppy with the groom in the stable before entered the manor, feeling as eager as a child himself. “Where are the children, Julie?”

  “Tom is still napping, sir,” Julie told him, “and Rosie is right here in the kitchen with me.”

  “Rosie,” he said with a twinkle in his eye. “When Tom wakes up, I want you both to come find me. I have a surprise for you.”

  “A surprise?” Rosie asked eagerly. “What is it?”

  He laughed. “If I told you, it wouldn't be a surprise, now would it? I don't want to show you without Tom, so be sure to find me as soon as he's awake.”