Lillian wondered why she’d chosen this story. In truth, she’d made no conscious choice; it had merely been the first tale that she’d remembered. But somehow, telling it while Thorpe Everard listened made the meaning different from what she’d believed it to be.
She took a deep breath and went on, ever more softly for Addy’s blue-veined eyelids were closing. “When the wedding party was gone, the evil queen fell to rending her clothes and gnashing her teeth. None of her servants dared to look upon her face, so hideous did her rage make her.
“Several nights later, as Chani rode before his followers, he saw a fabulous city, all golden spires and silver walls. Sweet smells and happy music filled the air. His companions ...”
The little girl was asleep. Her thin chest rose and fell to sighing breaths, as she clutched the rag-man. Lillian stood up and put the chair in its place against the wall. Only then did she turn to face Addy’s father, but he was gone.
Lillian did not know if she were glad or sorry. Thorpe Everard was perhaps the most charming man she’d ever met. She felt drawn to him by his humor, his kindness and, though she preferred to think this was not the most important attraction, his remarkable good looks. Yet how impossible that Lillian Canfield should lose herself among the throng of his female admirers. The mad notion of the Curse of the Everards came back to her as she walked through the dark schoolroom to her own chamber. Surely pride would be proof enough against it, if she even believed in such things.
* * * *
In the morning, Lillian did not know whether she should first seek out Addy to begin lessons or search for Thorpe. She had a serious matter to discuss with him, for his highhandedness of the day before was as nothing compared with the dreadful discovery she’d made that morning while dressing. Crossing her arms on her chest, she sat on the bed, trying to maintain her calm. Surely her dignity demanded that she make no mention of the matter, but at the same time, she burned to take him to task. Puffing angrily, she decided to put this feeling to good use. Miss Addy would not escape her today!
The child’s room was empty. Each footstep firm and determined, Lillian descended to Lady Genevieve’s corner of the house. “I wish to speak to her ladyship,” she said to the maid who opened the door.
“She cannot be disturbed—” The maid stopped and glanced over her shoulder. “You may come in.”
“Lady Genevieve,” Lillian said as soon as she was over the threshold. “Where is Addy?”
“I have no idea, Miss Cole. Really, you never seem to know where my granddaughter is. Do you lose all your pupils this way?” Shaking back the lace from the sleeve of her white wrapper, Lady Genevieve dipped her fingers into a box of bonbons that stood on a table beside her chaise.
“Are you certain Addy is not here, Lady Genevieve?”
The thin brows contracted. “I would not conceal the child from you. You are free to search my chamber, however.”
Lillian felt a trifle ashamed of herself, but was still angry enough to cast a glance around the room, listening for stifled giggles. “Very well. Do you have any idea where she might be?”
“None. Miss Cole, I hardly think a Thursday is the best time to begin lessons. Why not wait until Monday? My granddaughter is delicate, too delicate for strenuous hours in the schoolroom. If only Thorpe had consulted me before being so precipitate in bringing in a governess.... Are you going?”
“Yes, Lady Genevieve, and I’m going to start lessons today, Thursday or not. Well begun, as they say, is half done.”
Remembering the butler’s indignant reaction to her question yesterday about Addy, Lillian hesitated before asking him again. However, when she saw him cross the travertine-floored foyer, she took her courage in her hands and approached him. “Pardon me, Mr. Becksnaff.” There was a momentary pause before the butler turned. “Have you seen Miss Addy?”
“The upstairs maid has just informed me that the young mistress was in her room.”
“Thank you, Mr. Becksnaff,” she said, smiling from relief at not finding an immediate snub. She hurried up the stairs. However, the child was not there, and nothing had moved to show that she’d been there since leaving her bed this morning. Lillian was forced to suspect Becksnaff of telling her a deliberate untruth.
More determined than ever to find Addy, Lillian rushed down one flight of stairs. Looking into each room as she passed, she ran into a deep, masculine chest. Strong arms came up to steady her, as a chuckling voice said, “Have we driven you to running away so soon, Miss Cole?”
Lillian tossed back her head to look up into Thorpe’s face. His lips parted in a smile that coaxed her to respond even as the scent of his clean body filled her senses. His hands tightened on her waist. Softly, she said something other than what she’d meant to say. “You came back early last night.”
“I suddenly felt I didn’t want to stay away longer.” His hands opened and she was free. Lillian knew an unreasoning disappointment and remembered that she was displeased with him. “Mr. Everard,” she began, stepping back, “I want to know if you are aware that an extra gown was delivered to my room yesterday.”
“An extra gown?” The dimple came and went in his tanned cheek.
Lillian dragged her eyes away. Perhaps if she kept her vision focused on his ear, she’d not be so distracted. Only, she’d never noticed before how admirably the masculine ear had been designed for nibbling upon. “Yes. Midnight blue with silver stripes.”
“It sounds enchanting.”
“It is. I mean ... I did not order that dress, sir, and I demand to know if you did.”
“I? No.”
“Oh.” Lillian began to feel she’d made something of a fool of herself. “I apologize,” she said stiffly. “It’s just that—”
“After my bad behavior yesterday, which you so rightly reproved, you feel I might attempt any liberty in the calendar?”
“No, nothing like—”
“I feel certain. Miss Cole, that Fenniman simply included a gown you admired with the others, knowing that I pay any bill sent to me without looking it over. A reprehensible habit, as you do not need to tell me. No doubt he assumed you would keep quiet about the matter in your own interest, not realizing what a noble nature is yours.”
“Mr. Everard, are you making a game of me?”
“Yes,” he said, his smile broadening into a laugh. “I confess I am, a little. These matters are but trifles, Miss Cole. What is an extra gown to me? Come, how much was it?”
“Thirty shillings.”
“Which you will now, I feel certain, insist on paying me. Miss Cole, my income last year was in the tens of thousands of pounds. Keep your money and let me see you in your silver stripes sometime.”
Lillian did not know immediately how to reply to his suggestion. Dragging her attention again to his ear, for the sparkle in his eyes made her want to smile too, she tried to think of an answer. Past the slightly ruffled hair at his temple, she saw a tiny figure tiptoeing down the hall.
“Excuse me, Mr. Everard,” Lillian said, stepping around him.
“Where are you going?” he asked.
Intent on her quarry, Lillian did not answer him. Addy paused and looked back over her shoulder. Seeing her governess approaching, the child took off at a run, skimming lightly over the broad red carpet. Lillian increased her speed, even raising her skirt slightly to increase her stride. Addy gained some distance by sliding down the wide, highly polished banister to the ground floor, but Lillian soon caught up again by virtue of her longer legs. At the front door, it was Addy and Lillian neck and neck.
Once in the open, however, Addy began once more to gain. All the traveling up and down stairs that Lillian had done this morning began to tell. Her legs aching, she tried her voice. “Young lady, stop at once!”
Addy’s feet obeyed as she slid to a stop, but the rest of her did not. She fell to her knees. Horrified, Lillian ran up to see if the girl had broken any bones. “Oh, my dear, I’m so sorry. Are you hurt?”
“ ‘Course not.”
But Addy winced as she got up. Though she’d landed with her hands in the grass beside the walk, the gravel had torn one pantalette and stung the exposed knee.
“Come into the house and I’ll wash it off. And you’ll have to change, I suppose.”
Her charge’s outthrust lower lip receded. “Aren’t you angry I ran away?”
“I’m sorry you did, as you got hurt. I shouldn’t have chased you.”
“You run very well.”
‘Thank you,” Lillian said, oddly touched. “So do you.”
“I practice.” The little girl tucked her hand into Lillian’s with possessive confidence. Looking up with her large gray eyes, she asked, “Did you tell Papa I ran away?”
Lillian shut her eyes. Had she really flown off leaving Thorpe gaping after her in the upstairs corridor? Yes, she had. Not the actions of an adult, certainly not those of a person to be given charge of a child. “No, I didn’t mention the matter.”
“Good. I didn’t think you’d see me. You were talking to Papa.”
“But I couldn’t help but see you,” Lillian said. “You were right in front of me.” Perhaps pointing this out was only encouraging Addy in successful deception, but it seemed odd that the child thought she could manage such a blatant display without being caught. Perhaps she believed herself to be invisible. Whatever the consequences, at least they were having a conversation of more than three sentences.
“You were talking to Papa. Whenever Burrows or Henley or any of the maids talk to Papa, they don’t chase me anymore, even when I’ve been awfully naughty.” She giggled. “Their eyes go like this....” And she made a face with huge, dazed eyes, her mouth hanging open.
Lillian wondered if that is how she’d looked when talking to Thorpe. If so, she had not appeared in the most attractive light. If all women responded to him thus, it was no longer a mystery why he’d not remarried after the death of his wife. No man could possibly fall in love with a woman who looked like an unfortunate cow of below-average intelligence.
* * * *
Addy showed greater sangfroid during the cleaning of her dirtied and bloody knee than did Lillian. It was almost all she could do to pat the wounded area with a wet cloth held in a shaking hand. “Does it hurt very much?”
“No. I’ve done worse.”
“How horrid for you,” Lillian said. “Where are your clean pantalettes?”
Lillian held open the waist of the pantalettes as the little girl stepped into them. Tying the bow, she said, “Did you like the story I told you last night? Do you remember?”
“ ‘Course. Chani and New ... Snor ... and the evil queen.”
“That’s right. I’ll tell you the rest tonight, but now I’d like to—”
“Now!” Addy said, sitting on her bed. ‘Tell me now!”
“Tonight. That’s a... a bedtime-only story. Now I think we should go into the schoolroom and I’ll tell you about a famous king of England named Alfred the Great.”
“Alfred?”
“Alfred.” Lillian walked into the adjoining schoolroom. She stopped short. Seated in the deep recess of the open window, swinging one booted foot, Thorpe looked up at her approach.
“There you are. And there you are,” he said, looking at his daughter as she emerged from behind Lillian. “So, who won the race?” he asked, lifting Addy up to his knee as she ran to him.
“I would have,” Addy said, “if I hadn’t tripped.”
“Did you hurt yourself?” The little girl shook her head emphatically. “You relieve my mind. Do you wish to begin teaching Addy now, Miss Cole?”
“I had intended to. At last.” Lillian walked to the slightly dusty bookcase, opening the glass door. Running her finger along the spines of the books, she looked for the simplified history of England that she’d noticed last night, for her memory of Alfred’s reign, except for the episode of the burnt cakes, was somewhat dim. Also she knew, though she pushed the thought away at once, that by looking at the books, she kept the expression of an idiotic bovine off her face.
“She’s going to tell me about Alfred the Great. I think he’s a friend of Great-grandmother’s,” Addy said.
“Does that come under the heading of cookery or history?” Thorpe asked, looking at Lillian.
“History,” Lillian answered firmly.
“Ah! Well, in that case, if Addy isn’t too wounded to walk,” Thorpe stood up, hefting Addy in the air to tuck beneath one arm, “why not let me fulfill my promise to show you over the castle ... the real castle?”
“Yes, Papa, I should like it so much!” Addy shouted, all but hanging upside down. Thorpe seemed to realize he held his fragile daughter a tad too carelessly and lowered her to the ground. Blinking dizzily, Addy sat upright, saying, “The castle!”
“I don’t know,” Lillian began, seeing her opportunity to keep Addy in one place disappear before her eyes.
“Come now. Miss Cole, surely history can be taught more effectively where it occurred. Cromwell slighted the place, and there was a story that Edward the Confessor—”
‘The Confessor?” Lillian exclaimed. “The castle is ... almost eight hundred years old?”
“No, only four hundred. Very well, perhaps it was not the Confessor, but certainly one of the Edwards slept there. It might as well be the saint.” Thorpe smiled. “It always seemed to me that history is half invention anyway. What wonderful make-believe we could create in a ruined castle.”
“Oh, please, say yes. Miss Cole,” Addy said.
“Please say yes, Miss Cole,” her father repeated. Somehow though, Lillian felt certain he was asking for her consent to some other activity entirely. Nonsense! That could only be the effect of his personality working on her again. She wanted to return a firm negative to his pleading, but then she was foolish enough to glance once more into his jade eyes.
Grudgingly, she said, “Obviously, there is a conspiracy afoot to keep Addy from school. She must start sometime, you know.”
“But not today?” Thorpe asked, his smile widening.
“Very well. Not today.”
“Hurrah!” Addy shouted. Her father joined in, giving three cheers and a tiger for the compliant governess. Lillian had to bite down on her lips to keep her expression severe. At this moment, there seemed nothing to choose between the thirty-three-year-old man and his six-year-old daughter. Just as there seemed to be no difference between the Everard charm and the Everard curse. They both made her act in ways she’d not intended.
Lillian caught her thoughts up short. If she believed in the curse, then she must have fallen in love with Thorpe after only three days’ acquaintance. And that was ridiculous, was it not? Especially for one who knew herself to be immune to love.
Chapter Six
“Your attention, ladies, and Frank.” Thorpe held up his hand for silence. Standing before crumbling stone walls, a fresh breeze ruffling his hair, he looked like some king of ancient days, gathering his troops before the assault. If such kings had known how well blue superfine set off their shoulders, surely they would never have worn armor. Their enemies’ wives would have surely insisted on being utterly defeated. Lillian made the effort to focus on the brick walls behind Thorpe, her attention a little distracted by the giggling of the gamekeeper’s son.
The Price children had joined the expedition at the last moment, as had Lady Genevieve. She stood with her hand on her great-granddaughter’s shoulder, as together they looked up at the looming wall of the original Mottisbury Castle. Her back under her shawl was straight and her chin was lifted, pride in every line of her body and face.
Thorpe continued, “Please remember that the castle looks stronger than it is. If you were as old as this and had had plenty of cannon balls shot at you, you’d very likely not appreciate large, noisy children clumping all over you. So, I want no running ahead of me and no staying behind. The floor may be rotten in some places, and not all the walls are shored up, especially in the smaller chambers. Everyone understand?”
“Yes
, Papa,” Addy said while Gina nodded solemnly. Lady Genevieve gave no sign of having heard, still off in a dream of glorious deeds done by dashing gentlemen who bore the Everard name. Lillian wondered what it must be like to belong to a family that could trace its ancestry back to the construction of a building four hundred years old.
Although she never thought of herself as a parvenu, there had been occasions when some haughty person, usually titled, had tried to remind her that Mr. Canfield was little better than a jumped-up tradesman. Though Lillian had given a frosty set-down to such people, a wincing feeling of inferiority had often remained. Lady Genevieve managed to give her that feeling and Lillian resented it.
With a start, she realized that it had been at least two days since she’d thought of her father. How he would enjoy swaggering through a castle, even if it was not owned by a noble. She wondered if Paulina had remembered to send the first of the letters Lillian had left for him. She’d hate for him to worry as he would if no word came from her.
The small party started up the slight hill which was crowned by the broken towers and roofless walls of the castle. Smaller than she’d expected, the ruins were of two, possibly three, towers connected by a low wall. However, those that still remained had a strong, frowning aspect. The bright green grass contrasted strongly with the mellowed brick, and it was difficult to imagine, under this smiling sky of blue and floating white, anyone wishing to do more than admire. Yet here the Parliamentarians had bloodied the ground and defeated the fortress, once upon a time.
Reaching Thorpe, who seemed almost to be waiting for her, Lillian spoke her thought aloud. “The history hardly seems real, Mr. Everard.”
“Oh, it’s real enough. Do you see that hummocky ground this side of the field?” He stopped and pointed down to the east. “Under there is what’s left of the barbican that guarded the entrance. They blew holes in it with cannon. Sometimes we still find the bricks, as well as an occasional set of bones.” He grinned at the expression on her face. “I told you it was real. Come on, they’re getting ahead of us, and after that speech, I daren’t let them.”
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