Lois Menzel

by Ruled by Passion

  “I repeat, madam. It is impossible for me to stay!”

  “But you said you would take the position for six months. You agreed to that much, at least.”

  “In truth I did, but I cannot honor the agreement. It would be a waste of your money and my time. If you will take my advice, you will send your son to school. That, in my opinion, would be the best possible place for him. Good day, Mrs. Saunders.”

  As Mr. Osgood left the house, Arelia stormed down the hall to her brother-in-law’s study and burst through the door.

  “Tenbury! I must speak with you. He is your nephew. Surely there is something you can do.”

  A fair head lifted politely, and a pair of blue eyes regarded her with interest. “I assume we are discussing our charming Thomas. What has he done now?”

  “What he always does—he has driven away another tutor. The man insisted he could not stay and recommended I send the boy to school.”

  “The last time Tom was sent down from school, the headmaster clearly stated that they would not consider readmitting him unless he underwent a drastic change in attitude. Has he done so?”

  “Of course not. We don’t dare send him back. I cannot leave him in the country, for I never know what mischief he will be into next.” She took a swift turn about the room, her blonde curls bouncing, and the flounces of her spring-green walking dress skimming over the floor. “This must stop! I am a widow with young children. I should be attending every gathering that is held if I hope to meet an eligible gentleman—someone who can take the burden of my family from your shoulders. But am I doing that? No! Lately, it seems I spend most of my time fretting over that tiresome boy.”

  “Surely you exaggerate, Arelia.”

  “Do I? It took me two weeks to find the redoubtable Mr. Osgood. Two weeks of checking references and giving interviews. And how long did he last? Four days! Four short days! Well, let me tell you, I have run out of ideas. I have interviewed every tutor in this city, and I am at my wits’ end. You must help me, Nate!”

  The Earl of Tenbury regarded his sister-in-law sympathetically. She had certainly had her share of bad luck. First the loss of her husband, to whom she had been devoted. Then just as she was about to emerge from a full year of mourning, her father had died unexpectedly, plunging her into blacks again. Her newest headache, young Thomas, had begun his devilment about eighteen months earlier. He had been sent down from school for a long list of transgressions, which included repeatedly putting various undesirable creatures into the beds of his classmates, writing obscenities on the slate board, and kissing a daughter of one of the masters. When one added to this mischievousness the fact that he was failing his form, the school saw no reason to permit him to stay.

  “Very well, Arelia. I will look into the matter. You must not despair. I know you will find this hard to believe, but Thomas is much like his father was at the same age—and as you know, Henry turned out well.”

  Arelia’s face brightened as she answered, “You are the best of all brothers, Nate. I feel sure you will succeed where I have failed, for I am convinced this matter demands a man’s attention.”

  “Perhaps. We shall see. Send the boy to me tomorrow morning. Shall we say ten o’clock?”

  “Certainly, Tenbury, anything you say.”

  “And Arelia—please impress upon him the importance of being prompt.”

  Thirteen-year-old Thomas Saunders was inordinately pleased to have successfully routed six tutors in little more than eight months. His pleasure, however, did not survive the information that he was to present himself before his uncle the following morning.

  Since the earl had never been one of Thomas’s favorite people, he knocked timidly on the door and, when told to “Come,” entered with considerable trepidation.

  Tenbury had been seated reading the newspaper, but he rose at the boy’s entry. He was a strongly built man of above average height; to Thomas he had always seemed a giant.

  “You are prompt, Thomas. That’s good.” The earl moved to the chair behind his desk and seated himself, while Thomas approached the desk and stood before it, his hands clasped nervously behind his back.

  “Your mother tells me that Mr. Osgood has left us,” Tenbury began. “What, pray, was his complaint?”

  “I believe he was displeased with my grasp of the Latin verbs, sir.”

  Tenbury raised a brow at this rejoinder. The boy had more in common with his dead father than physical appearance.

  “Do you know any Latin verbs, Tom?”

  “Very few, sir.”

  “Easy enough then to comprehend Mr. Osgood’s displeasure, wouldn’t you say?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “We both know you have no liking for your studies. But tell me this,” the earl demanded. “If you could at this moment do anything you wished, what would that be?”

  “Anything, sir?”

  “Anything at all,” the earl confirmed. “If I said, go where you will, do what you wish for the next two months—what would you do?”

  “I would go to Tenton Castle, sir.”

  “And do what?” Tenbury asked.

  The boy needed no time to consider. “Fish, swim, snare rabbits, hunt badgers at night. I have a great friend there, Will Carey, the squire’s son.”

  “Yes, I know Will. Tell me this, Tom. If I were to permit you to do just as you wished for two months, and if I found you a new tutor meanwhile, would you be willing to settle down to your studies when your holiday ended?”

  “Could I stay at the Castle, study there, and see Will in my free time?”

  “Perhaps. Do you know what a gentleman’s agreement is, Tom?” When the boy nodded, Tenbury continued, “I will grant you sixty days from tomorrow to do exactly as you wish at Tenton, if you will agree to apply your considerable intelligence to your studies at the end of that time. If you progress, and your tutor is satisfied with your efforts, you may continue to see Will, and you may remain in the country.”

  The smile that had grown on Tom’s face faded slightly when his uncle added, “There are a few conditions attached to this agreement, which you must clearly understand. You must pledge to me that you will engage in no activity that is indecent, dishonest, or illegal. You will agree not to distress my people at the Castle in any way, nor cause them alarm or inconvenience. You will be certain that someone at the Castle or at the Grange knows where you are at all times. And above all, you will do nothing to disgrace my name or your own.”

  He paused for a moment, watching the boy closely. Tom seemed to be considering the terms carefully, and Tenbury was pleased. Too quick an acquiescence would have worried him. “Well, Thomas,” he said at last, “Do we have an agreement?” He stood and reached a long arm across the desk to his nephew.

  Tom stepped closer and took his uncle’s large hand in his own smaller one. They shook solemnly. “Yes, sir, we do,” he said.

  Barely more than two weeks after Anne’s arrival in London, Mrs. Hodder visited the schoolroom late one afternoon at tea time. She was astonished at the sounds that greeted her as she entered the room. Her niece, Miss Marsh, and the girls were partaking of their tea, all the while chattering away in an uninterrupted flow of French! She hesitated in the doorway and listened, greatly pleased with the excellent progress her daughters had made. Later that evening, when an acquaintance informed her of a possible position for her niece, she replied, “Thank you, Sally. I will be certain to tell her, though I believe she may decide to stay on with us after all. She gets on so well with my girls, and she is an absolute wizard with needle and thread.”

  Cressida Hodder had discovered Anne’s proficiency in sewing only a few days after her arrival. Victoria had burst into the parlor in tears over a torn flounce, and Anne had offered to mend it. In a short time, with tiny, perfect stitches, the dress was repaired. The following day, when Mrs. Hodder mentioned there were a dozen new dinner napkins that needed monogramming, Anne offered to do them.

  Almost every day thereafter, Ann
e found herself busy. Either her aunt would drop a rather broad hint regarding some needlework, or the housekeeper would bring it by her room saying, “Madam thought that if you had a free moment this afternoon you might like to hem these sheets, miss. No hurry though, miss.”

  After a few days, even this small courtesy vanished. Anne would simply find a pile of work on her bed. Even during her French lessons she would have sewing in her lap. Finally Ruth Marsh was moved to protest. “Surely there is a seamstress in the house who can hem sheets!”

  Anne looked up in surprise. “I am happy to have the work. It’s the least I can do to repay my aunt and uncle for their hospitality.”

  “But you sew from sunrise to sunset. Beyond that, in fact. You were sitting up with the candles last night; I saw the light under you door. You were sewing, were you not?”

  “Yes,” Anne admitted. “My aunt especially wanted Emily’s yellow dress today, and I was a long way from finishing.”

  “I hesitate to criticize your aunt, Anne, but she is taking advantage of you. Can’t you see it?”

  “I need to pay my way here, Ruth. I will not live on charity.”

  “But you are more than paying your way. You are doing the work of two seamstresses and teaching French as well. In return you are receiving room and board. You should be receiving a wage besides. And another thing. Have you not wondered why it is that your aunt has not discovered any position for you?”

  “I’m certain she is doing her best.”

  “I would not be so sure. Why should she try when it works to her advantage to keep you here with her?”

  Anne refused to believe her aunt was exploiting her, but Ruth had planted the seeds of doubt. When next an opportunity arose, Anne asked her aunt if she had heard of any companion positions.

  “As a matter of fact, my dear, I have. My friend Sally Shelton told me of an acquaintance of hers who is seeking a companion. I have written a note to the lady and am waiting to hear from her. There is also old Mrs. Humbel who lives just down the street. Her companion is engaged to be married, and will no doubt be leaving her soon. I thought I would speak with Mrs. Humbel about you. I must admit, however, that I have been wondering if you would consider staying on here with us. During these weeks we have come to regard you as one of the family. The girls are so fond of you, too.”

  This was the very invitation Anne had been hoping to hear since the day she arrived at the Hodders’. Now that it had finally been offered her, she hesitated to accept. She had nothing truly critical to say of her aunt and uncle, nor of the treatment she had received since coming to live with them. Yet somehow she knew she could not continue with them indefinitely. She could not envision herself as the inveterate poor relation. If she could secure a position, she would earn her own wage, and even though she knew it would not be much—it would be hers.

  Back in the schoolroom, monogramming a handkerchief for her Uncle Hodder, she asked Ruth, “What is a seamstress paid, do you think?”

  “I imagine very little. But I once knew a skilled language tutor who earned fifty pounds a year—and that was only for one student, one language. You also know German and Latin.”

  “But I am a woman,” Anne replied. “I cannot seek a position as a tutor.”

  “If your aunt should arrange an interview for you,” Ruth asked, “what will you wear?”

  “My blue gown is the best I have.”

  Her friend frowned. “Do you think you could justify some new lace or ribbon? A bit of trim would improve it dramatically, I think.” When Anne looked doubtful, Ruth hurried on. “I am taking Victoria to some of the shops this afternoon. Come with us and see what you can find. Who can say? You may discover something quite reasonable.”

  Several hours later the three strolled down Oxford Street to its junction with Bond Street. A walk of less than half a mile brought them to the shops south of Grafton. While Ruth and Victoria stopped at Asprey’s, drawn in by a handsome dressing case in the window that Victoria admired, Anne went on a few doors to a milliner’s that offered, among other goods, a large variety of dress trimming.

  She had little money left and was loath to part with it, knowing that when it was gone, she had no way to replace it. Yet somehow the thought of being forever dependent on her relatives outweighed her reticence, and she looked over the goods with interest. She would refurbish the blue gown as Ruth suggested and try to look her best as she sought a position.

  She selected some wide ribbon, reasonably priced, she felt, for the quality. She decided to buy enough to put two full rows at the hem of her gown. Remembering that her bonnet ribbon was much worn, she chose a length for that as well, concluding her purchases with two straw flowers to tuck under the band to add a bit of color. A woman at the counter cut the ribbon lengths she requested, then wrapped Anne’s goods in a small bundle. After paying for her purchases, Anne smiled pleasantly then turned to leave. Before she had taken even one step, the woman behind the counter spoke, loudly enough for all the customers in the shop to hear.

  “D’you plan on payin’ for them furbelows, ma’am?”

  Anne looked about curiously, as did most of the people present, wondering to whom the woman was speaking so loudly. She was profoundly shocked to find the shopkeeper staring at her.

  “Excuse me,” she said doubtfully. “Were you speaking to me?”

  “Indeed I was, ma’am. And what I asked was, do you mean to pay for them ribbons, or just take ’em without payin’?”

  Thoroughly confused and more than a little embarrassed, Anne stepped back to the counter and laid her parcel down. She lowered her voice, hoping the shopkeeper would do the same. “I paid you—two and fourpence—you gave me change.”

  With no diminution in volume the woman returned. “I wrapped you a parcel, ma’am, ribbons and flowers. If you not be willin’ to pay, then I su’pose I must put my stock back on the shelf.”

  She reached for the parcel while Anne stood unresponsive. She could not think of a thing to say—did not know what she should do …

  At that precise moment a silver-tipped ebony cane descended on the counter between the two women, nearly landing on the shopkeeper’s fingers as she reached to reclaim the package. The action so startled Anne that she jumped, then turned to see a tall, blond man standing close beside her. His hard, unsmiling face and fierce blue eyes were fixed upon the shopkeeper. The shop had grown deathly quiet; Anne sensed that every eye and ear was attending to them.

  “I believe, my good woman,” the gentleman said, “that your memory is lamentably short. I saw this lady pay you. She tendered three shillings; you returned eightpence.”

  Anne could not take her eyes from the gentleman, so shocked was she that a stranger had come to her aid. His dress and speech clearly identified him as a person of some standing; a gentleman perhaps in his mid thirties. His voice was pleasant, but though his words were superficially polite, beneath they held a definite challenge. He never looked at Anne, but continued to regard the shopkeeper until she responded.

  “This ‘ere be no concern of yours, sir.”

  “Unethical business practice is the concern of every good citizen,” he replied.

  “Un-e-thi …? What?” the woman asked.

  “Dishonest,” the gentleman clarified.

  “Dishonest?” The woman bristled. “This be an honest shop. Ask anyone!”

  “That is unnecessary,” he responded, “I have seen with my own eyes just how honest it is.” Then, ignoring the blustering woman, he turned his attention for the first time to Anne. “If you will wait here, madam, I will step into the street and seek the direction of the local constable. I will be more than happy to substantiate your claim to this parcel.”

  Confronted by those remarkable eyes, situated in a face more handsome than any Anne had ever seen, she found herself unable to respond beyond an affirmative nod. As the gentleman turned deliberately toward the street door, the shopkeeper found a stammering voice.

  “J-Just a moment, now, s
ir. There be no cause to call for the law. It be your word against mine, after all.”

  “Not quite,” he returned. “It is your word against mine and the lady’s.”

  “Very well, then,” the woman responded angrily, “Take the goods, for we all knows the law always sides with Quality. But you needn’t bother bringin’ your trade ‘ere again for—”

  “She will not,” the gentleman interrupted. “Nor will I.” Without another word he scooped the parcel from the counter, placed it in Anne’s hands, and turned for the door.

  Anne followed him quickly from the shop, knowing she must say something; but once on the street outside, all she could manage was, “Sir?”

  He turned, a brow raised in inquiry.

  “Thank you,” she said quietly, feeling inept and foolish.

  He raised a hand to the brim of his hat in a brief salute. “My pleasure, ma’am,” was all he replied before he turned again and strolled off toward Piccadilly.

  Chapter 3

  Anne turned and walked the other way as Ruth Marsh and Victoria emerged from Asprey’s. Still rather shaken from her encounter with the unscrupulous shopkeeper, she listened with only half an ear to their chatter.

  Ruth smiled when she saw the package in Anne’s hands. “You did find something! I cannot wait to see.”

  Anne was eager to tell Ruth about her unusual experience in the milliner’s shop but did not wish Victoria to overhear. It was late that evening before she had an opportunity to relate it.

  “How fortunate that the gentleman happened to see you pay,” Ruth said.

  “And that he was willing to step forward and say so,” Anne added.

  “What would you have done if he had not been there?” Ruth asked curiously.

  “I don’t know. Never have I been accused of stealing! I was so bewildered. I could not believe she was speaking to me. If I had tried to take the package, I am certain she would have raised the alarm. Yet to pay a second time would have been to admit she was right—when she was not. It was an impossible situation.”