“If you’ll follow me, you can wait in the master’s study. I’ll tell Missus Whitmore of your arrival.”
Following the man’s rigid back, Alice’s original fears surfaced again. “Drummond? Could you tell me, is the position of governess still available?”
“It is indeed.” He stopped, opened another door and stood aside. “Make yourself comfortable, Mistress.”
Stepping into the lofty study, Alice sighed at the rich splendor of the room. Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves filled the walls. A tidy desk sat within a bow of stately windows, which looked out upon colorful formal gardens. Lush burgundy leather chairs created cozy seating areas around the room and before a small fireplace. Its firebox, cleared for the warmer months, housed a thriving plant of some sort.
Alice walked about entranced by all the books like a man lost in the desert looking upon a grand lake of water. Beautiful volumes with tooled leather covers followed one another on the shelves. She pulled one down and breathed in its scent before reverently slipping it back into its appointed space.
Running her hand along the rich spines, she remembered the last book she’d read. Gavin had told her to take it with her, but she’d left it behind. Bringing it would have only brought her heartache. Alice crossed to the windows and stared unseeing at the mosaic of color beyond. She was disappointed she’d never had the chance to look through the expensive books they’d secured from the Spanish ship.
Secured. Alice shook her head. Stolen was the proper word. She’d been among thieves lest she forget. They’d been more interested in the silvered corners than what fascinating reading could be found inside.
And the letters. Beth’s letters. They were something she would never forget. Those hauntingly beautiful letters written in Beth’s gentle scrolled hand. No, she’d never forget them, or the man they’d been written to.
Alice pulled another book from the shelf and flipped through several pages before closing her eyes. Gavin. She held the image of him in her mind. His face, the fineness of his light hair, the way his eyes darkened before he kissed her. She’d remember it all. The arguments, the tender times, the passion of a stormy night. It was all part of the story. Their story. She imagined their words filling page after page. But like all true love stories, it had its heartbreaking finish. Happily-ever-afters were works of pure fiction. Fairy tales. Better she keep both feet planted firmly in the truth. The story of she and Gavin Quinn was over.
Turning to the last page of the book in her hands, Alice traced the words The End with the tip of her finger before closing the cover and returning the volume to the shelf.
Behind her, the doors flung open and a lovely woman rushed into the room. No more than ten years Alice’s senior, she wore a gown of pale lavender in a light airy fabric. Lace trimmed the deep, squared neckline and puffed at each elbow. Her hair, piled high, was the color of honey. Wide blue eyes captured hers. Seeing Alice, she clasped a hand over her heart. “Miss Tupper!”
Alice bobbed in greeting, “Missus Whitmore.”
“I insist you call me Isabelle. When Drummond announced you, I swear I nearly fainted. We thought you were dead. Good Lord, look at you. You’ve been beaten. My dear child.” She slipped her arm through Alice’s and led her to one of the groups of chairs. “You poor thing. Look at your clothing. I can’t begin to imagine what you’ve been through.”
Her slight accent and the high singsong pitch to her voice had Alice straining to catch each word. She spoke so quickly, Alice didn’t have a chance to respond.
“When we got word you were coming aboard the Pennington, Carlton, that’s Mister Whitmore, of course, we were thrilled. But then, to receive word the ship had been taken by pirates. Well, you can’t imagine how upset we were.”
The scene of Rasher killing Captain Fredericks flashed in Alice’s memory. “Yes, that was...quite upsetting.”
Isabelle gasped and fanned her cheeks. “How did you ever get away? Were they ruthless cutthroats? No, don’t tell me. I couldn’t bear to hear it.” She clutched Alice’s arm. “How awful for you. And yet, here you are. It is a miracle. Wait until Carlton hears. He’s sure to be as stunned as I. How relieved, he’ll be. He’s been hounding me for weeks to fill this position, but I was so upset, I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I was sure we’d never find a suitable governess for the children.” She gasped again. “Oh Lord, the children. They can’t see you like this. We’ll need to get you cleaned up. A new gown.” She reached for Alice’s cheek and winced. “A bit of powder upon the bruise about your eye, certainly.”
She gave a curt nod. “I’ll put Millicent to the task. She’s my personal maid. A godsend, truly. She can see you settled and bring you anything you may need. A lovely bath and a hearty meal perhaps, then a good night’s rest. The children can meet you in the morning over breakfast.”
Isabelle stopped and beamed. “You’ll love the children. Everyone does. Rebecca is bright as a new penny, and Brighton is his father’s son, so serious and reserved, but smart as a whip. I cannot wait for them to get on with their studies.”
Alice sat wide-eyed. Isabelle Whitmore had been talking nonstop since she entered the room. Alice didn’t know what to say. Which question she should answer. What to comment on. She gathered herself. “I look forward to meeting the children. I’d appreciate the chance to clean up before meeting them or any more of the household. Indeed, a bath sounds like a bit of heaven, but I don’t wish to burden your maid.”
“Nonsense.” Isabelle flipped a hand, rushed to the door, and called for Drummond. “Ask Millicent to come here at once.” She turned back to Alice. “The children are out riding their ponies with Mister Whitmore.” She stopped and tipped her head, hesitated. “I should say, Brighton is riding. Rebecca is terrified, poor thing. The horses frighten her so. Carlton has been trying for weeks to ease her fears, bought her the sweetest pony, but she wants no part of it. Even so, if we’re quick we can get you cloistered away to your rooms before they return.
“Your quarters are up the stairs to the right. I’ve arranged for you to be in the east room adjoining the nursery. For now,” she winced again, “we should keep the doors closed. Just until we can make you a bit more presentable, of course. But in the future, you will have your own private entrance into the children’s rooms. Wait until you see the lovely nursery. We had a decorator come all the way from France.”
A quick knock saved Alice from, no doubt, a ten-minute explanation of wall coverings and drapes. “Millicent, this is our new governess, Mistress Tupper. As you can plainly see, she’s been through quite the ordeal to reach us. Please see to a bath and something hearty to eat. She’ll need a suitable gown. I think the pale yellow from last season should do well, and of course, some night clothes.”
“Yes, ma’am, at once.”
Isabelle dropped her voice to almost a whisper. “Some of my tinted face powder as well, don’t you think?” She shot a glance back at Alice.
“Yes, ma’am.”
Alice cleared her throat and interrupted. She disliked being talked about as if she weren’t in the room. “You’re most generous, Missus Whitmore. I can’t begin to thank—”
“Please, it’s Isabelle. And don’t be silly, it is we who should be thanking you.” She pulled Alice in for a hug. Over her shoulder she added, “Millicent, be sure to add some lemon verbena to the bathwater and give her some of my lovely French soap. Quickly.”
Chapter 20
Alice’s head was spinning as she followed the maid’s quick strides through the foyer and up the elegant staircase. More potted plants filled corners. Portraits of soft landscapes lined the hallway. At the end of the hall, Millicent stopped and opened the last door on the left. “Your rooms, Mistress Tupper.”
Alice stepped inside as Millicent rushed away. The large airy rooms were huge relative to those of an English manor, and palatial given her slice of storage hold aboard ship. A chambermaid was already pulling dust covers from the furniture and open
ing the tall windows. She, too, scurried out before Alice could thank her.
A bed thick with feathered ticking and crisp white sheets sat between the windows. One door opened into a dressing area along the right side and another door, presumably led to the nursery off to the left. She must have passed the children’s rooms on her way by without noticing. A tiny fireplace graced the back wall with two crewel-embroidered armchairs done in soft blues and yellows. Sheer blue curtains danced at the windows. Even a small writing desk, complete with ink and quill, stood pertly by the hallway door. Fresh flowers had already been placed on her bedside table and the night’s candles lit.
Alice walked about the grand room silently touching each thing as if to assure it was all real. Moving into the dressing room, she gasped as she caught her reflection in a mirror. No wonder Isabelle Whitmore had been afraid for her to meet the children.
Alice looked a positive wreck. Her eye still held some swelling and was the color of a faded plum. That was bad enough, but it was not the only bruise she wore upon her face. Alice traced each one with a fingertip as the vision of a falling mast with its stiff sails and tangle of ropes flashed through her mind. It explained them all. She was almost afraid to look at the rest of her body.
A quick knock upon her door announced the arrival of a large copper tub and a small parade of maids with pails of steaming water. Millicent led the charge with arms full of drying cloths and various toiletry items. A young girl behind her carried a dressing gown and the aforementioned gown of yellow. They quickly filled the tub, laid out an array of soaps and creams, and a handsome tortoiseshell brush. The gown was hung in a beautiful carved armoire and a pretty dressing gown edged in pink was laid out upon the bed.
Alice was growing more and more uncomfortable with all the fuss and attention. Even before her time spent with uncivilized pirates, she was used to being the one doing the serving, and not the one being served. Led to a chair, one of the maids dropped to her knees to help Alice remove her shoes. The look on the young girl’s face when she saw tall men’s boots was almost comical. Alice stopped her before she could raise her skirt enough to find her pistol. Millicent gave a quick order and another servant rushed off to bring Alice a proper pair of shoes.
When one maid’s hands worked at the braid in her hair, another’s removed her belt, Alice stopped them all. “Please. I-I can’t catch my breath. Thank you, but I’m sure you all have much more important matters to attend. If I could have some time to myself….” She didn’t want to come across as ungrateful. “It’s all so wonderful. My head is spinning.”
“Of course, Miss, I understand. You’ve been through quite enough.” She scooted everyone out with a quick clap of her hands. “I’ll have a tray sent up in an hour. Until then, enjoy your bath and your peace.”
Alice secured the lock behind them and slumped against the door. She’d survived two bands of pirates, weeks at sea, battles, storms, and yet Major Millicent and her band of militant maids had nearly done her in.
After stripping out of her ship’s clothing, she stowed her things on the floor of the armoire. Her boots made the perfect hiding place for her pistol and gold, but she was happy to find the wardrobe came with a lock—and a key. Alice buried everything under the rest of her clothing.
She lowered herself into the warm, lemon-scented water. A grateful sigh escaped her. Dipping her head beneath the water, she used a bar of soap shaped like a seashell to rub suds into her long hair. The smell was delightful. A fat sponge spread the fragrant bubbles over her body smoothing the rich lather over the swell of her breasts. At the brush of her nipples, Alice couldn’t help but think of Gavin. His touch, and the way he seemed to delight in teasing the tips to pebble against his palms.
She closed her eyes remembering his mouth upon her. The building sensation when his tongue circled the rouged bud of her nipple before drawing it into his mouth. Her body pulsed at the memory. Beneath the water, she skimmed the sponge across her stomach.
“No.” Alice sat up so suddenly, water sloshed from the end of the tub. “No.” She refused to allow her thoughts to carry her away and leave her wanting what she couldn’t have. It was over. He was gone. She was here. The sooner she folded up her memories and locked them away like her blasted boots, the better it would be for her. She took the bar of soap and lathered the sponge once more. Using it like a scrub brush, she removed the last layer of her past.
* * * *
Early sunlight peeked through spotless windows. It took Alice a moment to remember where she was. When was the last time she had slept so deep? Dreamless. She stretched like a spoiled cat, languishing in the glow of the sparkling morning. It was an important day.
Rising, she brushed her hair before applying the odd colored powder Millicent had brought the night before. It didn’t cover the bruises on her face and neck completely, but it made them far less noticeable. She slipped Tao’s lion tooth over her head—for strength—and her ring onto her finger, kissing its face—for love and luck.
The borrowed yellow dress was a bit short in the skirt and tight in the sleeve, but it would serve its purpose until Alice could secure some clothing of her own. The shoes, however, fit like a dream. After shuffling along in boots three sizes too large, it was a simple treat not to clump when she walked.
Back at the looking glass, with her hair braided and secured in a tidy twist at the back of her head, Alice gave a small, sad smile. There she was, the Alice of old. Neat. Tidy. A proper servant. And yet, the familiar green of her eyes seemed different. Wiser? More worldly? Wounded? Like her bruises, under a dusting of powder, she could hide it all from the rest of the world. All her secrets. No one knew them now. Only her and her image in the mirror. And she wasn’t talking.
It was still early when she left her rooms, but she was anxious to begin the day. Perhaps a stroll through the gardens would ease some of her nerves before meeting everyone at breakfast. But on her way down the hall, Alice passed the nursery and was drawn to the delightful peal of children’s laughter.
Tapping lightly, she opened the door and peeked inside. The boy, Brighton, was crawling about on his hands and knees with his sister, Rebecca, riding on his back telling him he was a good pony and she wasn’t afraid for him to gallop faster. Brighton reared back to the squeals of delight of his sister as she clung to his neck to keep from falling.
An older woman dressed in starched whites with hair the color of pewter turned and scolded them for playing too rough. She caught sight of Alice in the doorway and scrambled, fussing over the children to stand up and brush themselves off.
“Please, let them play. I heard the giggles of happy children and couldn’t wait another moment to meet them. I’m Alice Tupper, the new governess.”
“Our pardons, Mistress Tupper. I’m Susanna, the children’s nurse. We heard you’d arrived. This isn’t the way we should have met you.”
The two children looked up at her with wide eyes. Rebecca was a miniature version of her mother with honeyed hair and soft blue eyes. Brighton was darker in his coloring but he, too, had his mother’s eyes. She smiled at them both. “I was the one to barge in. My manners are a bit rusty.”
Susanna pushed Brighton toward her. “Good morning, Mistress. I’m Brighton Edgar Whitmore. I’m eight years old.” He held out his hand with all proper seriousness.
Alice shook his hand and replied with a serious face. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Brighton.”
He tugged on his sister while their nurse worried the bow in the girl’s hair. “This is Rebecca. She’s five.” The child stuck her thumb in her mouth, which Susanna was quick to remove with a gentle pat to the back of her hand.
“I’m happy to meet you Rebecca. I’d be happy if you’d call me Alice. I think we’re going to have a wonderful time getting to know each other, don’t you?”
“You were lost.” Rebecca pointed at her.
“I was indeed, but I’ve found my way here, at last. I’m sorry I wa
s so late.”
Brighton gave her a stare. “Father said you were captured by pirates.”
“Brighton,” scolded his nurse.
Alice held up her hand. “It’s true. I did spend some time with pirates.”
Both children’s eyes got as large as tea saucers. “Bad pirates?” asked Rebecca.
Alice sat on a low chair. “A few were not so nice, but some were very kind. They made sure I got to Virginia.”
The children crowded her and peppered her with questions. “Were you scared?” “Were there cannons?” “And swords?” “Did you cry?”
“Brighton. Rebecca.” Their nurse scolded them and tugged them away from Alice by the scruffs of their necks. “Give the poor woman some room.”
“You’re curious. I like that. Would you both like to see something special? It was a gift from a special pirate friend.” Alice tugged on the chain about her neck and held out the lion’s tooth for the children to see. “Do you know what this is?” She leaned forward allowing them to get a closer look.
“No.” They both shook their heads.
“This is the tooth from a fierce lion. Do you know what a lion is?”
“I do,” Brighton boasted. “It’s the king of the jungle.”
“That’s right. A lion is a big, wild cat that lives far, far away.”
“Why did the pirate give it to you? Was it your birthday?” Rebecca blinked up at her with crystal-blue eyes.
Alice smiled. The child was already warming her heart. “It was a good-bye gift. He told me it would bring me courage.”
“So you won’t be scared.”
Alice cupped the girl’s cheek. “That’s right. You’re both so smart.”
“May I touch it?” Brighton asked holding out a curious finger.
“Me, too?” Rebecca chimed in.
Within a Captain's Treasure Page 15
