“She wants to go to town tomorrow—checking into finding herself a place to go.”
Tim nodded sagely. “Fine. That way, we’ll have somewhere all lined up when Fuller finally gets home.”
In the middle of the night, Tim woke up. He had a roaring case of indigestion. It had to be from Velma’s lousy meal; for the first time Velma’s pot roast had been tough and stringy, and the vegetables were undercooked. He wouldn’t give any credence to his conscience suggesting that maybe he felt a bit guilty over the way he’d treated Lady Sydney. Men didn’t let their guts knot up over a woman’s tender feelings. He decided a glass of milk might help, so he padded downstairs.
An arc of light let him know someone was in the kitchen. Still wearing every last piece of proper day clothing, Sydney sat at the table, a fancy teacup in her hand.
Tim nodded his greeting and walked past her, hoping to smooth the tension between them. “Velma hardly ever bakes treats. I’ve got a powerful sweet tooth, so when she does, I gobble up every last crumb. Want a few cookies or some custard?”
“No, thank you. The tea is sufficient.”
“Tea isn’t gonna keep your slats apart.” He tested the top of the stove and jerked back his finger. “The hens are laying well, and the stove’s still hot. You could fry yourself a couple of eggs to hold you till morning.”
“I’m not overly hungry.” She finished her tea and went to the sink to rinse out the cup.
“Sit back down and talk a bit.” He motioned toward the custard and cookies. “Eat too.”
Folding her arms across her ribs, Sydney shook her head. “Mr. Creighton, we’d do best to avoid one another’s company unless we have specific reason for conversation.”
“Awww, c’mon! My mouth got the best of me earlier. I admit it. You got your feelings hurt, but that doesn’t mean that you have to dash off and starve yourself.”
“I’m scarcely in danger of starving.”
“But you ran off like a kitten that some kid squeezed too tight.”
Her eyes coasted across his broad shoulders and quickly scaled his height from floor to hairline. Staring directly into his eyes, she rasped, “Your analogy was exceptionally appropriate.”
Raking his hand through his rumpled hair, Tim sighed. “Listen, Fuller’s bound to be getting home soon. It’ll be different with him here. He’s good at handling people. He’ll manage this situation far better than we are. I trust the man.”
“Then at least one of us is looking forward to his appearance.”
“Is that what this is all about? You’re scared of him giving you the boot, so you’re worrying yourself sick in the meantime?”
She shot him an icy look. “Mr. Creighton, I’ve been far from the wilting-and-hysterical type. The mere thought that I’d stoop to such an intentional manipulation is hardly flattering, and I assure you, it’s not in the least bit accurate.”
“I think you’re only half right. That’s precisely what’s going on.” He held up a hand as she made a sound of protest. “You’re unaware you’re doing it.”
“There are so many flaws in that logic, it is impossible to address them all. Do you think I’d intentionally make myself ill when there’s every likelihood that my uncle will send me away? I’ve already determined to find a suitable situation for myself. No one would engage me if I were sickly.”
“You?” He let out a rough bark of a laugh. “Work?”
Sydney didn’t laugh. The lantern illuminated the temper sparking in her eyes. “Like it or not, Mr. Creighton, you cannot deny that I worked—and hard—for three weeks. I’m not about to suddenly languish.”
She was right. He couldn’t deny that she’d done whatever tasks he’d put before her. But only because of her manipulating scheme. He stared at her. “What would you do?”
“America is the land of opportunity. Education is valuable. A place at a school is a strong possibility. I’m skilled with a needle, and my mathematical abilities would allow me to work in any shop or bank.” Her chin came up in defiance, but her voice faltered. “I’ll do whatever I need to.”
Tim pounded on the tabletop in frustration. “I didn’t want to have to shepherd some greenhorn kid for a week, and I certainly didn’t plan on having to guide the prancing fop who arrived. That was bad enough, but I never would have consented to playing nursemaid to a little English miss who wears her feelings on her sleeve!”
Sydney sat there for a long moment. Her tone went icy. “Now you tell me, Mr. Creighton, just who is venting emotions?”
His face went hot, but his stare scorched her.
Rising from her seat with all of the elegance of a queen from her throne, Sydney spoke in an irritatingly well-modulated tone, “Furthermore, I’m far beyond the age to require the services of a nursemaid. That being revealed, I bid you a good night.”
“I agreed to watch Fuller’s nephew for one stinking week.”
“And you’ve had to endure my undesirable company for nearly a month.” Sydney turned around by the door. “Don’t feel too put out, Mr. Creighton. If your actions and attitude are any hint as to how my uncle will conduct himself, you can safely plan on being rid of me forthwith.”
“Now, hang on a minute here—”
“Please, Mr. Creighton, spare me any platitudes or defensive commentaries. The simple fact of the matter is, I’m not wanted here. I do happen to possess enough pride to insist upon living where I’m accepted. That, obviously, is not the case here. In the morning, I’ll go to town and send out inquiries regarding a suitable situation for myself.” She slipped away and left him to sit in a pool of lantern light.
Tim shoved the cookies and custard away from himself. She’d ruined his appetite for good food.
The next day, Sydney went to town. Velma accompanied her, and they returned with two newspapers and a short list of boarding schools for young ladies. Sydney sat down at Fuller’s desk. Miss Stern’s Boarding School clear out in California and Trenwith’s Anglican Home for Orphaned Young Ladies in Chicago . . . just the names gave her the shivers. Carefully sorting through the possibilities, she ruled some out immediately, then set herself to writing.
As Velma made dinner, Sydney wrote a letter of inquiry to a ranch in Kansas. As the last few lines of ink dried, she began another inquiry to a place in the Dakotas. St. Mary’s Academy was in Oklahoma. All of her years of stodgy upbringing rescued her. In her heart of hearts, she wanted to stay here, but she was a lady, and a lady didn’t stay where she was unwelcome. She refused to demean herself by begging to be kept on—even if Tim and Fuller both agreed, she’d be there on sufferance, and pride demanded she not live under such circumstances.
The very thought of leaving made her want to weep like a baby. That realization hit her hard. She’d come here planning to return to England. Now the only thing she wanted was to belong here. Even if she couldn’t stay at Forsaken, she wouldn’t go back to England. The freedom and opportunities here offered her far more latitude than she’d ever enjoy back home.
Sydney clamped her lips together, blinked a few times, and continued on. A show of emotion simply wouldn’t do.
“Sydney, dinner is on the table,” Velma stated from the doorway.
Her head lifted. “Thank you, Velma.”
“I fixed bluegill. Pancake caught them in the pond this morning.”
“That sounds lovely.” Sydney went to the table and took her seat. The fish might have been made of hairpins and moss for all she cared. After picking at a few bites, she rearranged what was left on her plate and rose.
“Something smells great, Velma,” Tim hollered as he came tromping in. He stopped at the window and opened it, and a fresh breeze sailed through the room. “Sit back down, Sydney. I didn’t mean to interrupt your meal.”
“You’re not interrupting me. I’m done.”
He glanced at her still-full plate and glared at her. “Oh no, you’re not! You sit back down there and eat!”
She remained standing. “There’s no need
to thunder at me. I stated I’m done, and that is all that needs be said. You will not order me about in that manner again.”
“Oh yes, I will, Miss Fancy Pants. Fuller left me in charge here and specifically put you in my care. You’re under age, and that means you’ll obey. Now sit down, or I’ll make you sit.”
“My uncle put a nonexistent nephew in your care.”
“He knows you’re a girl now, and he still told me to watch out for you.” The chair legs scraped loudly on the floor as Tim yanked it back. “Your seat, Miss Hathwell.”
She glowered at him and stiffly sat back down. “Lady Hathwell.”
“Eat!”
Sydney forced herself to take a few more bites. She knew he watched her and counted every mouthful. His displeasure rolled over her in waves. After struggling to swallow one last bite, she carefully blotted her mouth with the napkin, murmured an unintelligible excuse and slinked away in lady’s boots that constricted her feet only a fraction as much as Tim’s words constricted her heart.
By suppertime, she’d written to five more possibilities. The task should have taken far less time, but her heart wasn’t in it. If only things could be different. If only I could be Tim’s friend again. But that’s impossible. He’ll never forgive me. She struggled to compose decent letters and had to rewrite two because of blots. Still, she had the envelopes addressed and ready to go. With a few minutes to spare, she slipped upstairs to comb her hair.
She came back down to find Tim looking at her envelopes. A frown deepened the creases in his forehead. “Mr. Creighton, I would appreciate it if you’d unhand my missives. They are private.”
He dropped them. “You discussed the matter with me. I hardly consider it to be a secret. With Fuller gone, I’m bound to watch over you, whether either of us likes it or not.” His expression made it clear he didn’t like it.
Quelling the desire to weep, she hid behind the emotionless mask she’d been trained to assume. “Sir, you hold no sway over my affairs and the arrangements I make for my future.”
“Awww, Sydney! Young women don’t strike out like this on their own. I reckoned you’d dabble around in a shop in town— not venture someplace halfway across the country.”
I couldn’t bear to be close to you and suffer the icy distance you’ve put between us. “I believe I’ve been quite clear: Stay out of my affairs.”
“Whoa! Wait a minute!”
“No, you wait, Mr. Creighton.” Her hands fisted at her sides, and they shook with temper, as did her voice. “More than anything, you made it plain I’m unwelcome. You objected to having to ‘nursemaid an English miss.’ Don’t you dare stand there and suggest that you give a fig about me or my future. I can and will manage.”
“You don’t have the faintest notion what things cost. I assumed you’d find something local and Fuller could help you out. You can’t afford—”
“I specifically searched for positions in which lodging is provided. I’ll manage.”
Tim shook his head. “That’s unnecessary. Sydney, your uncle is rich! You aren’t blind . . .” He swept his arm in a wide arc. “Look around you. Fuller will be happy to pay for you to go to the most expensive school.”
She directed a cool stare back at him. “I have no need to look about. A man who owns land and cattle as he does is obviously well to do. That doesn’t matter a whit. Do you expect me to assume I am to share in my uncle’s wealth when I cannot even share his roof? Come, Mr. Creighton, I don’t wish to delude myself.”
“How can you judge the man? You’ve never even met him!”
“How can he judge me? He’s never met me, either.”
He looked thunderstruck for a few seconds. “That’s different. You’re a woman.”
“You, sir, have just relegated me to poverty—a dreadful poverty of spirit simply based on my gender. When you believed me to be a male, I had a future. I could ride and shoot and rope. I plowed and mucked out stables, I cleared a field and even rescued a child. Now suddenly you limit my horizons because my form is unlike yours. I may have a narrow waist, but you, Timothy Creighton, have a narrow mind!”
Chapter Eighteen
Sydney’s words rang in his ears after she left the room. Tim didn’t want to give them credence; they were impertinent and emotional. But they were also well thought out and true.
Velma glowered at him from the doorway. “Supper’s on.”
“Good. I’m hungry.”
“Then you’re the only one around here who is. You have a way of taking away a body’s appetite.”
“Just what is that supposed to mean?”
She crammed her hands into the pocket of her apron. “You figure it out. Being as you’re the man around here, that makes you the smart one.”
“Just what put a crimp in your tail?”
“I took that sweet little gal to town today. She pasted a smile on her face, swallowed her pride, and asked at the emporium about positions as a governess or housekeeper or as a teacher at one of them boardin’ schools.”
“What?!”
“You heard me just fine.”
“She was supposed to be a student at one of those places! What do you mean, she’s thinking of being a teacher or housekeeper?”
Velma gave him a chilly glare. “A gal’s gotta do what a gal’s gotta do. Sydney pretended not to see the townsfolk’s surprise or pity, but it was there, plain as day.” She gave her head a sorrowful shake. “By now every soul in town knows you’re kicking that bitty woman out.”
Shame flooded him. “Come on, Velma!”
“Truth’s the truth. They got in some of the things she ordered. Lady Sydney insisted on paying for every last thing instead of adding them on Fuller’s account.”
“She didn’t have to do that!”
“Oh yes, she did. She’s got too much pride.”
“Pride? Pride! She wore britches! No lady with pride would ever be caught dead wearing britches.”
“You’re a fool to judge a woman’s heart by her clothes, Tim Creighton! Don’t you tell me otherwise.” Velma yanked her hand out of her apron pocket and pointed at the desk. “She sat straight and tall as could be over at that desk all afternoon. Bit her lip, but she didn’t shed a single tear. Poor gal has plenty of pluck and even more pride. You’re taking it all away, making her feel like she’s as worthless as a wad of chewed-up tobacco.”
“Tobacco!”
The housekeeper continued on, “She lost her mama and her papa. Did you know the relatives she had left sent her away to New York, hoping to marry her off? Things didn’t pan out. Did she moan and groan and whine? No. She hoped maybe she could fit in enough to have a home with her uncle. That’s not asking too much. She never asked for money or goods. She doesn’t even want us to bow and scrape and serve her.”
“I know that, but—”
“Oh, she’s been a handful, but she’s charming and she tries to help out. She should have married some rich man and lived a life of ease. Now her only goal is to live here somehow. If that doesn’t work out, she’ll fall back on having her aunt arrange someplace in England for her to watch someone else’s brats. Sydney’s already said she refuses to let anyone try to arrange another marriage. Poor bitty gal—can’t blame her. She’s not asking much of life at all. Nuh-unh. Not at all.”
Velma wouldn’t let him get a word in edgewise. “You didn’t like her from the moment she set foot on Forsaken, but she proved herself. You know it’s the gospel truth—the very morning, just before you found out she was a girl, you told me you thought Syd, the boy, was a fine youngster and you were proud of him. You liked him. Once you discovered he was a she, you suddenly forgot about the pluck and personality and only cared about the package. You act like you were the one who was betrayed by her little deception, but I’m telling you—she’s the one who’s been betrayed. She earned her place here, and you’re snatching it away just because she’s wearing a petticoat now.” Velma gave her head a sorrowful shake and waggled her finger at him as if he
were a naughty boy. “Seems to me that with Fuller getting worse each month, he ought to be glad to have his own flesh-and-blood niece to act like a secretary or somethin’.”
“I told her she could stay till Fuller gets home!”
Velma gave him a heated look. “Now wasn’t it mighty generous of you to offer her bed space in her own uncle’s home?”
“Velma! What’s gotten into you?”
“Funny. I was wondering the same thing about you!”
Tim gritted his teeth.
“Time’s come for you to face up to the truth. You messed up the first part of this. You never bothered to look below the surface. Learn from your mistake. Instead of letting the clothes determine your opinion, look deeper. That gal is steel beneath the dainty lace and ruffles. She doesn’t know it yet, though. For all she’s gone through, she’s going to be fragile as icicles.”
Tim shook his head. “Pants or a dress—it makes no difference. She’s under my authority while Fuller is gone.”
Velma’s jaw jutted forward as it did when she went into a snit. “Yep, you’re right. Now do a better job with her than you have so far.” She walked off.
“I should have known this would happen,” Tim muttered. “Get a couple of women together, and they complicate things.”
Tim kept waiting for Sydney to come down to eat. She didn’t. He ate slowly, and still she didn’t appear. Should he go up and talk to her? His palms began to sweat at that thought. The encounter they’d just had didn’t go well at all. “Women.”
A juicy, rare beefsteak on his plate sat half eaten. It was his favorite dinner, but at the moment, it might just as well have been shoe leather. He hadn’t realized how having her sassy comments and saucy grin across the table improved a meal.
As a matter of fact, she’d made several small changes. Velma wasn’t one to move at top speed, and things got done when she was of a mind. Truthfully, doing all of the cooking and cleaning for a big house and two bachelors kept her more than busy enough. Sydney saw the details and set them straight. Velma mentioned that Sydney had stitched that sagging curtain ring. He’d seen Sydney sweeping dust from the doorsills and polishing the windows. Velma never bothered with those details.
Fancy Pants (Only In Gooding Book #1) Page 21
