“This is not the place for this sort of conversation,” he said when he realized she would not accept silence as an answer.
“If you need to talk, you know where you can find me.” She touched his arm, then went into the room to watch over the children.
Yes, he knew where to find her when the house grew quiet and the children were asleep. She would be in the day nursery, snatching a few minutes to read. He need only go up the stairs. No! He must not seek her out after the family gathered for dinner tonight. He should think only of Gwendolyn!
Yet he knew he would eventually return to the nursery when the house was quiet. It might be his final chance to spend time alone with Maris before he wed.
*
Maris gave up on the idea of the children taking a nap. They were too wound up to lie down. When she persuaded one to rest, another was up and running around with excitement. She tried to get them to play with their toys, but they were more interested in racing from the door to the windows, hoping for a sight of Lady Susanna and Captain Nesbitt.
She finally lifted them up onto the window bench and pointed at where Captain Nesbitt’s ship, The Kestrel, rocked in the cove. That set them to chattering as they told her about their visit to it. They seemed to have forgotten she had been with them, and she did not remind them. As they listed what they had seen, she smiled at their childish impressions of the vessel and its crew.
She was unsure how long they would have gone on if the sound of footsteps had not reached the nursery. A man’s footsteps, she realized, and her heart did a somersault.
Was it Arthur?
When Venton, one of the footmen, appeared in the doorway, Maris submerged her disappointment. She should have guessed Arthur was busy with his family. It was as it should be.
“Venton, can I help you?” she asked, motioning for him to come in.
He carried a wagon painted in bright greens and yellows. “May I leave this here for Lady Caroline?” He set the small wagon with its extra-long handle on the floor in front of Maris.
She kept the children from swarming over it. “What is that for?”
“It is a baby wagon. So the infant does not have to be carried all the time. I thought as a nurse you would recognize it instantly.”
She did not look at him. “I have heard of them, of course. I never have seen one.”
“Lord Trelawney had it brought down from the attic because he thought Lady Caroline and you would want to use it for Joy.”
“It is wonderful.” She gave him a genuine smile. “I know Lady Caroline will be delighted.”
He nodded and left without another word.
Maris let the children examine the wagon, but did not let them climb into it. “This is for little Joy. You are big boys and girls, not babies.”
“My baby.” Gil patted the side and stuck out his narrow chest.
“Yes, for your baby.” She kissed the top of his head, amazed at the devotion such a young child could show for another. It spoke well of Gil’s warm heart and the man he could become.
The hours passed quickly as the children played. Maris opened a window when the air became heavy in the nursery, but more humidity came rushing in along with the cooler air from outside. Everything began to feel clammy, and the children grew fussy because they were uncomfortable and tired.
She was considering another attempt at naps before tea arrived when suddenly Lulu let out a shriek. Spinning to chastise whoever had upset her, Maris had to leap aside as the twins burst to their feet and ran past her toward the door.
“Susu!” they both shouted.
The girls flung their arms around Lady Susanna. The boys did the same. The lady greeted each of them with warmth, but it was clear by the way her fingers lingered on the twins’ heads that she had a special place in her heart for the two little girls.
“I would like to speak with Miss Oliver.” When the children continued chattering exuberantly, she frowned.
Maris said, “They know me as Maris, not Miss Oliver.”
“Ah,” Lady Susanna said, her smile returning. “Children, you need to play now with your toys while I talk with Maris. Once we are done, I will sit with you. I want to hear about everything—absolutely everything—you did while I was gone.”
“Up kite!” Lulu shouted, too excited to wait.
“Play now,” Maris said, echoing the lady’s words. “Or why don’t you practice the song we learned about boats? Then you can sing it to her later.”
That suggestion diverted the children. As they raced away, mangling the words to the song, Lady Susanna smiled more broadly.
“They seem so happy,” she said. “I believe we have you to thank, Miss Oliver. Or should I call you Maris as the children do?”
“It would make it easier for them and for you.” Realizing she held an armful of blocks, she put them in their box. “I do not mean to rush you, but they will not stay distracted for long.”
“Very well. I shall get right to the point. Drake and I have discussed it, and we would like to bring Lulu and Molly with us to our new house. It will not be a problem, will it?”
“Of course not, my lady,” Maris said, even as her heart cramped. She loved the little girls, and the nursery would not be the same with them gone.
From the beginning, she had known the children could depart at any time and with no notice. But she had thought they would leave only when their true families were found. She never imagined the youngsters would be separated before then. Toby had lived with the parson and his wife since the children’s rescue, and now the twins were going away. Gil spent most days with Lady Caroline. That would leave Bertie without a playmate.
Maybe Lady Caroline would bring Gil and the baby to the nursery more frequently, or Toby could come and spend more time. Even though the boys squabbled like brothers, Bertie otherwise would be the sole child in the nursery.
If she had not had Belinda to play with when she was young, her days would have been tedious. To be alone, day after lonely day, made time pass slowly. She did not want that for Bertie.
“I know this may be difficult for the children when they have been living together since their arrival at Cothaire,” Lady Susanna said, warning Maris she had not hidden her thoughts well.
“It will, but it is good for the twins to be with you and Captain Nesbitt. Each time a ship came into view, they wanted to know if it was his.”
“I assure you we will invite the boys to the house often, and when Drake is at sea, I probably will spend most of my time here at Cothaire. In addition, we will be here regularly because Arthur asked if I would handle Cothaire’s accounts until he can hire an estate manager. I want to make this transition as easy as possible for the children. I know they are going to be unsettled by another change.”
“Children are more resilient than we give them credit for.”
The lady put a hand on Maris’s arm. “And I suspect it will difficult for you, as well.”
Wishing her face did not display her thoughts and reactions, Maris replied, “Of course I shall miss them. They are delightful. However, they will be happiest with you.”
“Drake and I are the ones blessed to have them in our lives. That is why we want to have them with us for as long as God allows.”
Maris nodded, wishing she could speak as easily of God and His will. Are You there? Can I reach out to You as I once did? She longed to feel God in her life again.
“When would you like them to be ready to join you, Lady Susanna?” she asked.
“Now if possible.”
Every inch of her rebelled at losing even one of “her” children, but again Maris submerged her feelings. She bent to pick up a toy, positive she could not conceal how her eyes flooded with hot tears.
Looking at the floor, she replied, “It will take me a few minutes to pack their things. If you don’t want to wait, my lady, I can have them sent to your house.”
“I will wait.”
“Yes, my lady.” She gave a half curtsy befor
e rushing toward the stairs leading to the night nursery. As she went up, she dashed away the silly tears. The girls would be on the other side of the cove. It was not as if she would never see them again.
Though it felt like that.
The upstairs nursery was quiet, and she heard distant thunder. She glanced out a window. Ugly clouds blotted out the sunshine. Trees whipped, their colorful leaves scattering. At that rate, the branches would be bare by nightfall.
She wrapped her arms around her as she dropped to sit on one of the small beds. Molly’s. More tears leaked from Maris’s eyes. Two pieces of her heart were being ripped away.
Until that moment, she had never guessed how deeply she longed for a home and a family of her own. Truly of her own, not one borrowed for a time. She had no yearning for a grand house as her parents had. She had seen the dark side of such a life. She wanted a life she could share with a man who loved her and would delight in their children as much as she did. A man who would have time for their children, as her father never had because he was too worried about the next rung on the ladder leading up to the heights of Society where he longed to be.
A man like Arthur.
She pushed herself up from the bed and found a wooden box. Trying not to make a mess of everything in her haste, she put the twins’ clothing and favorite toys in the crate. No matter how she focused on making sure she did not forget a single item, she could not escape how want-witted she was being.
Arthur would leave for the justice of the peace’s house in a few days. Once he was there, he planned to ask Lady Gwendolyn to be his wife. Did he love the lady? It did not matter, because it was a match both families desired. He was the heir, and that was his duty.
Knowing that and repeating it over and over in her head did not lessen her sorrow. Maris was unsure when she had begun to fall in love with Arthur. She must keep her feelings a secret. She did not want to burden him more. Nor did she want to hear him say he did not love her.
Maris picked up the box, which was heavier than she had expected. With careful steps, she went down to the day nursery. She paused in the doorway. Lady Susanna was on her knees, watching Bertie place another block on a tall tower. The lady would be an excellent mother, and Maris must put aside her own grief and envy that Lady Susanna had the family and the love she longed for.
She must be strong. If she fell apart, she would frighten the children with her tears. She should be grateful the twins would not witness how her heart shattered when Arthur proposed to another woman.
Keeping her voice to a cheerful chirp, she said, “I believe this is everything.” She set the box on the floor and went to ring for a footman.
Venton stepped into the nursery before she could pick up the bell. He must have been waiting in the corridor. With a nod to her, he picked up the box as if it weighed nothing. He told Lady Susanna it would be waiting in the carriage, then left.
Lady Susanna stood and smoothed her lovely gown. “Before we leave, I wanted to discuss your place in my father’s household, especially now that the number of children in the nursery is lower.”
Maris stiffened. Was she going to be dismissed? Who would watch over Bertie? He and Arthur had grown close, but Arthur had many duties that often took him far from the house. Bertie needed someone with him when nightmares stalked him or he wanted a lap to cuddle on after he scratched his finger.
That and more raced through her head, but she said, “Of course, my lady.”
“I want to be sure you never worry about having a position here in Cothaire, Maris. I spoke with my family, and they agree with me wholeheartedly. For as long as you wish to work at Cothaire, we would be grateful to have you in our household. The work may not be in the nursery after Arthur is married, but I will make sure Lady Gwendolyn knows how important it is to us that you have a position here commensurate with your station.”
“Thank you, my lady.” What else could she say to such a generous offer? She could not admit the idea of remaining at Cothaire after Arthur married was abhorrent.
Lady Susanna’s smile never wavered, and Maris knew the lady believed she had done her a great favor. It would have been, save every day brought them closer to the time when Arthur brought his new wife and her children to Cothaire. Lady Gwendolyn would want her own nurse for her children, and Maris would be given work in the kitchen or as an upper maid, the tasks her parents had struggled to keep her from having to take.
“Lulu, Moll,” Lady Susanna called. “It is time for us to go.”
“Go! Go! Go!” chanted Lulu as she bounced around the nursery.
“Say goodbye to Maris,” the lady continued.
That stopped the little girl in midstep. “Bye Maris? No bye Maris.”
Before Lulu started crying, which was sure to send the rest of the children into tears, Maris took her tiny hands. “Lady Susanna and Captain Nesbitt want you to stay at their new house. I have packed your toys and your pretty dresses. Go with Lady Susanna, and we will come to visit you.”
“Soon?” Lulu asked, her bottom lip quivering.
“Very soon.” Maris was glad when the lady confirmed it.
Lulu was obviously not satisfied with that indefinite answer. “Tonight?”
“Very soon,” she repeated before she kissed each twin’s cheek. “Be good girls.”
“Go with Susu,” announced Molly, amazing her because the little girl seldom spoke. Had it been because she missed Lady Susanna?
When the lady held out her hands to the twins, they clasped them. They did not look back as they walked out.
Bertie grasped Maris around the knees and moaned, “No go, Maris.”
She was unsure if he meant he did not want the twins to leave or he wanted to remain with her or he feared she would abandon him, as well. Kneeling, she drew both boys into her arms. She put her head against their soft hair as she let them weep the tears she must not cry.
Chapter Twelve
Maris dropped to sit on the window bench and looked around the day nursery. She was tempted to blow out the lamp and seek her bed. The children had been rambunctious all day. The return of Lady Susanna and Captain Nesbitt yesterday, combined with the twins departing, had left her as unsettled as they were. Bertie and Gil had bickered, something they had never done. The more she tried to quiet the boys, the louder they got. She could not take them outside because cold rain had begun with a thunderstorm last night and did not let up until long after dark tonight. It was as if the heavens mourned, too, that their small family was broken apart.
Arthur had not come near the nursery, and she had not spoken with him since the brief conversation in the hallway after the Nesbitts returned. When Irene brought the children’s supper, she mentioned how sorry she felt for Lord Trelawney, who had ridden out at first light in the rain. Maris was curious where he had gone and why he had not mentioned anything about going out to her.
Why should he keep you informed of his whereabouts? asked her mind’s most reasonable voice.
That voice was annoying, but right. She had no claim on his time, and she should not expect Arthur to come and entertain the children with his silly stories and games that seemed to make sense only to the males of the species. Still, she had been hopeful he would give her a look-in tonight, because he had not the previous evening. Irene had informed her that the family had gathered to dine last night and had spent long hours at the table, talking and laughing.
Finally, when nothing else worked to calm the boys, Maris had resorted to having warm water carried up to the night nursery. She bathed each child, singing softly as she did. That had soothed them enough so she could persuade them to go to sleep after their prayers, two stories and four more songs.
She needed to repair the damage to the day nursery before she could go to sleep herself. It looked as if a tempest had passed through. Toys were scattered everywhere. Not a single one remained on any shelf or in the toy box. Only one book sat on the shelf between the windows. Anything that could be spilled, smeared or crush
ed during supper was spilled, smeared and crushed. The tabletop was a bizarre pattern of dried food, half of it glued to the wood with jam.
She leaned her head against the cool glass and sought any remnants of energy within her. To delay picking up the toys and cleaning the table would be foolish, because that would mean she must rise earlier in the morning. Maybe tomorrow would be sunny, and she could take them out to the garden and let them run about until they grew so exhausted they would happily take a nap.
She closed her eyes, telling herself it was for a moment. She let her thoughts drift, and they pulled her toward Arthur. He had not said he wanted answers about Mr. Cranford’s death to share with Lady Gwendolyn when he saw her, but Maris guessed that was why he pushed himself relentlessly.
Her thoughts shifted to when she and Arthur were alone, and the barriers of class temporarily fell away. She smiled as she remembered how close they had come to kissing. She treasured the memory, knowing it must never happen again.
“Maris…” His voice was so real she longed to put her arms out and gather him close. “Maris…”
Her eyes opened, and she saw the face from her dreams in front of her. Her gaze traced the lines drawn by wind and worry in Arthur’s tanned skin. Dark whiskers shadowed his jaw and accented his lips. His hair was wet and curled across his forehead. When she reached up to push a strand from his eyes, her skin against his sent a delightful shock through her.
This was no dream.
It was real.
With a gasp, Maris sat. She had not realized she had curled up on the window bench as fatigue pressed upon her.
Arthur smiled. “I am sorry if I startled you, but I was afraid you would move in your sleep and tumble off to the floor.”
“Th-th-thank you,” she stammered, as she came to her feet. “You are back.”
Oh, this was going from bad to worse. First she had brazenly touched him as she had longed to do in her dreams. Now she was spouting the obvious.
Love Inspired Historical October 2015 Box Set Page 39
