by Aston, Alexa
“I’m happy to make your acquaintance, Miss Castle. Does your mother also work here?”
“No. Mother died when I was five. It was my grandmother who raised me. What brings you in today?”
“We’re growing,” Jane said solemnly. “Our gowns are too short.”
“And we need riding habits,” Harriet added.
“Oh, you’ll look right smart in a riding habit, my lady,” Miss Castle said.
Jane frowned. “What you wear can make you smart?”
Miss Castle laughed. “No, it means that you will look fashionable.” When Jane still looked puzzled, she said, “Pretty. You’ll look pretty in your new riding clothes.” Turning to Charlotte, she asked, “What else do the young ladies need, Miss Nott?”
“I’ve looked over their wardrobes and made a list.” She withdrew it from her reticule and handed it to the seamstress. For a moment, she could see Gray’s smiling image and hear him tease her about her endless lists. Charlotte pinched herself, willing all thoughts of Gray to go far away.
Miss Castle’s eyes skimmed the page. “Yes, I’ll be able to do all of these. If you’d like to look around the store, Miss Nott, I’ll take the girls in the back and measure them. It won’t take long.” She held out her hands and Harriet and Jane took them.
Charlotte wandered through the store, her fingers brushing along different bolts of material. She wished she could order a new gown for herself but she needed to save every penny. The day would come when Gray became Lord Crampton and she didn’t wish to remain if he took up residence at Gray Manor. She hoped that wouldn’t be too soon. She still wanted time to help these children heal from the wounds their parents—and Gray—had inflicted upon them.
The bell chimed again and she dreaded turning around, thinking it might be someone who would recognize her. It would be rude, though, to keep her head down and not acknowledge another’s presence. Charlotte glanced up and saw Dr. Pittman’s wife. The physician had seen to her father at his sudden end, not able to prevent or delay the illness. He’d also been the one who’d bled Lord Crampton, trying to help his asthma. She didn’t know if Dr. Pittman’s wife would know her.
“Good morning,” she said cordially and glanced back, fingering some material.
The woman came toward her. “Do I know you? I’m Mrs. Pittman, the doctor’s wife.”
Charlotte saw the cloudy eyes behind Mrs. Pittman’s spectacles and knew she suffered from cataracts, which would impair her vision.
“I don’t think so. I am the governess to Lady Harriet and Lady Jane Grayson at Gray Manor.”
At that moment, the girls came rushing out, both talking at once in a torrent of words.
“Girls,” she mildly cautioned and they fell silent.
Immediately, they curtseyed and Charlotte said, “This is Mrs. Pittman.”
“I’m Lady Harriet Grayson and this is my sister, Lady Jane.”
The old woman smiled. “It’s very nice to meet you. My husband has come to Gray Manor. He’s Dr. Pittman.”
“Hello, Mrs. Pittman,” Miss Castle said. “I have your dress. Would you like to try it on to see if I need to make any adjustments to the hem?”
“Yes, dear.”
“I’ll be right back,” Miss Castle promised and took the older woman’s arm, guiding her to the back.
“We got measured,” Jane said. “Miss Castle says I have grown almost two inches. Harriet’s grown one.”
“You are younger,” Charlotte said. “Your body is trying to race and catch up to your sister’s height.”
“I think I’ll always be taller,” Harriet said loftily.
“No, I will,” Jane said stubbornly.
“Let’s look at some material. I’ve picked out a few bolts that I think you’ll like.”
Miss Castle rejoined them and they quickly chose fabric to match the various gowns to be made up. For the riding habits, Charlotte suggested a hunter green for Harriet and a midnight blue for Jane.
“You have good taste, Miss Nott. You’ve made excellent choices.”
“Miss Nott does everything well. Especially sing,” Harriet said.
Charlotte sensed her cheeks heating. “When might you be finished with the garments, Miss Castle? I think the girls are most interested in having their riding habits first.”
“If you come back in a week’s time, I’ll have those and two gowns each completed. It will take another couple of weeks before I can fill the rest of your order.”
“Shall we come back to Wilton next Thursday?” Charlotte asked.
“Yes!” the girls cried.
“Thank you, Miss Castle. We will see you then. Let’s go outside,” she suggested.
The timing was perfect. Jeremy was pulling up in the cart, which had several items placed in the vehicle’s bed.
“Is anyone as famished as I am?” he asked.
Charlotte laughed. “I think we all are.”
“Then it’s off to The Dancing Duck!”
“The what?” Harriet cried.
“The Dancing Duck. It’s the inn where we’ll dine. Surely, you’ve seen ducks that dance, Lady Harriet?” he asked, a teasing light in his eyes.
“Never.”
“I have,” Jane said.
“You have not,” Harriet said.
“I have so.”
Charlotte intervened. “Girls, enough. What’s waddling to one person might very well be dancing to another. You’re irritable and fighting because you’re hungry. That can easily be solved by us going to The Dancing Duck for something to eat.”
Jeremy added, “It’s bad luck to argue on a sunny day.”
Harriet started to say something and then thought better of it. She stuck her tongue out at Jane. Her sister mimicked the gesture. Charlotte gave them a warning look and they both went to the cart, where Jeremy lifted them to the bed and then assisted her into the seat next to him. They drove a few blocks to their destination and the girls scrambled down without help.
“You’re good with them,” he said, offering her a hand.
She took it. “It’s what I’m paid to do.”
“Have you ever thought of having children of your own?” he asked.
Charlotte knew she wouldn’t be at Gray Manor long enough to begin—much less develop—a relationship with Jeremy. She needed to let him know but realized it must be done gently.
“No. I like working with children and then moving on to the next post.”
A flash of disappointment crossed his face, which he hid quickly.
They reached the girls and Jeremy opened the door. He requested a private dining room upstairs and the girls had fun ordering different dishes from one another. Charlotte guessed they’d never taken a meal outside the schoolroom.
Their luncheon passed quickly and after Jeremy paid the bill, he asked, “Are we ready to return to Gray Manor?”
“We have two more stops,” Charlotte told him. “Lord Crampton requested a sticky bun be brought back to him, while the girls need some additional art supplies purchased for them.”
“Then you’ll want to go to Simmons’ store. I’ll collect the sticky buns from the bakery, one for all of us, and then wait for you in the wagon.” His look of distaste let her know the gossiping Mrs. Simmons must still be working alongside her husband.
“We won’t be long,” Charlotte promised.
She and the girls walked across the street and entered the store.
Charlotte pointed to her right. “The ribbons are over there. I’ll pick up the drawing paper.”
Harriet and Jane scampered to one side of the store and she went to where she remembered parchment and pencils were stocked. She found sketch books and pencils and decide to add some charcoal to the mix. Then she spotted watercolors and thought Harriet, in particular, would enjoy them.
Suddenly, a chill ran through her and she knew Mrs. Simmons must be lurking behind her. Charlotte didn’t turn to see if she was right and took her purchases to the counter. Quick footsteps sou
nded behind her and Mrs. Simmons came to stand behind the counter.
“I thought that was you, Lady Charlotte. Whatever are you doing in Wilton? Does Lord Rumford know you are here? We heard you had a huge falling out.”
Ignoring all of the questions, she said breezily, “Hello, Mrs. Simmons. Would you mind ringing these up for me?”
“Who are those girls that came in with you?” the woman demanded.
“Lady Harriet and Lady Jane Grayson, daughters of the late Earl of Crampton. I am their governess.”
The woman’s eyes lit with malice. “Wait until Lord Rumford hears you’re back. Marching in here as if you owned the place. He won’t be happy to hear you’re back.”
“I’m only at Gray Manor for a short time. I leave soon for a post in York. I’m merely filling in until a new governess can be found,” she lied smoothly, hoping if the woman thought her gone soon, the gossip’s impact would be lessened and spread more slowly.
Disappointment filled the woman’s eyes. “I see. Well, Lady Charlotte, I’ll—”
“Excuse me.”
She turned to help the girls and found Jane at her elbow and wondered how long the girl had stood there. Taking her hand, she pulled her away from the vindictive shopkeeper.
“Is your name Charlotte?” Jane asked solemnly.
“Yes, it’s my given name.”
Jane cocked her head to one side and studied her a moment. “You look like a Charlotte.”
She chuckled. “And you look like a Jane.” They reached Harriet. “Oh, what pretty ribbons. Have you chosen one you like, Lady Harriet?”
“I think this one.” Her nose crinkled. “Do you think it will go with my new riding habit, Miss Nott?”
“Yes, it’s very close to the same shade of green. Jane? Are there any you like?”
“I can’t decide.” She shuffled a foot back and forth.
“Then show me your two favorite ones and I’ll help you choose.”
Jane pointed to a pale blue and a much darker blue.
“Hmm. Either will bring out the blue in your eyes but the darker one would match your riding habit.”
“I think I want this.” Jane pointed to the darker shade.
Charlotte pulled the spools of ribbon from their place. “I’ll pay for our goods. Why don’t you join Mr. Linfield outside?”
She watched them leave the store and took both ribbons to the counter.
Mrs. Simmons gave her a sly look and with venom in her voice said, “Don’t want the little ladies to know how you’ve come down in the world, I see. You used to be one of them, didn’t you, and now look at what you’ve become. A no one. No better than the rest of us. I can’t wait to tell—”
“I suppose I will have to speak with the estate manager at Gray Manor and report to him how poorly you treated me and the young ladies,” Charlotte smoothly interjected. “I wonder how many goods he orders from your place of business. It would be a shame if he decided to take his business elsewhere. But then again, I am sure you can afford to lose that business, Mrs. Simmons, else you wouldn’t treat your customers in such a loathsome manner.”
“You are threatening me?” the woman snarled.
Charlotte smiled benignly. “I would never threaten anyone, Mrs. Simmons.”
She sputtered, “Don’t you dare say a word, my lady. Not a word.”
“I won’t—if you won’t.” Charlotte’s threat hung in the air. “If I hear that you have mentioned my name, especially when I will be leaving in a very short while, then I will speak to the steward before I depart, Mrs. Simmons. You can count on it.”
The color drained from the older woman’s face. “Since you’ll be off to York soon, I suppose there’s nothing to tell,” she said meekly.
Charlotte gave the woman a knowing look. “I am glad that we understand one another.”
Taking up the ribbons, she indicated how much she wanted of each. Mrs. Simmons cut it and added it to the other goods and told Charlotte what she owed. Jeremy had given her money beforehand and she used it to pay the woman.
As Charlotte gathered the items, Mrs. Simmons gave her a sly look. “What if Lord and Lady Rumford are invited to Gray Manor? Will you hide from them?”
She gave the busybody a stern look. “That won’t be necessary. The family is in mourning, thanks to both Lord and Lady Crampton’s passing. By the time they are entertaining again, I will be long gone. Good day, Mrs. Simmons.”
Charlotte walked away, knowing by the end of the day all of Wilton would know she’d returned to the area. It would only be a matter of time before the gossip spread to the servants at Rumford Park. She wondered if one of them would let slip to the earl or countess that Lady Charlotte was serving as governess for the Earl of Crampton’s orphaned children.
Handing her items to Harriet, Charlotte allowed Jeremy to help her into the cart.
“Was the old witch there?” he asked softly.
“She was.” Charlotte shuddered. “She gets more malicious with each passing year.”
He flicked the reins and the horses began moving.
“Did she recognize you?”
“Of course.”
Jeremy tucked the reins into his left hand and with his right covered hers, which sat in her lap. “Don’t worry, Charlotte. Your brother can’t hurt you anymore.”
“Let’s sing!” Jane called out.
As the wagon left Wilton, Charlotte wondered if she would ever be able to leave her past behind.
Chapter Nineteen
Gray strode down the busy London street, the sharp November wind hitting him square in the face. For the two months he’d been in the city, he’d taken to long walks, wandering aimlessly with no set destination. He’d also ridden a great deal, often on Hampstead Heath.
He had nothing to do. He’d tried going to White’s a few times and had seen a few acquaintances at the club but he had nothing in common with those men. They had been people he’d known from his school days. None of them had seen war and its atrocities. He preferred spending his time alone, walking or riding or reading when he finally ventured home.
The townhouse wasn’t home, though. It never had been. He’d always preferred the country to the city. The residence seemed cold, like a mausoleum. It needed a woman’s touch.
He yearned for Charlotte’s touch.
Cursing under his breath, he continued to make his way home before darkness set in. He’d written to her once he’d reached London since he’d forgotten to ask her to send a monthly report to him regarding the children’s progress. She’d done so at the beginning of both October and November. She wrote separate ones for each of the three children, very detailed, but nothing personal. Gray wanted to know how Harriet’s art was progressing. Did she need a drawing master yet? And he wondered how Rodger had liked Robinson Crusoe, especially the ending. His nephew had written him twice, once each time he’d finished one of Gulliver’s voyages.
Then nothing.
Gray wondered if Rodger’s health grew worse.
He reached into his pocket and unfolded one of Jane’s drawings that he carried with him. His niece had not one iota of artistic talent but Gray carried the page with him faithfully wherever he went, wondering if she was growing out of her shyness. He missed the children. He missed Gray Manor.
Most of all, he missed Charlotte.
Doing what was best for everyone had been his only course of action, though. Leaving Gray Manor let all of them once more fall into a predictable routine. Hadn’t Charlotte been the one to stress to him the importance of a routine for children?
He reached the townhouse and entered, peeling the gloves from his hands. The butler took his coat and hat and told him mail awaited him on his desk. He went straight to his study and closed the door, pouring himself a brandy before sinking into the leather chair behind the desk. Flipping through the stack, he paused, recognizing the familiar handwriting from her many lists which he’d read again and again.
A letter from Charlotte . . .
It was the third week of November, much too early for one of her reports. Gray took a healthy swallow of his brandy and opened her note, knowing what it said before even reading it.
Mr. Grayson –
Lord Crampton has taken a turn for the worse. Rather than summoning Dr. Pittman, the local physician, I sent word to Dr. Winston in London. He has come and gone, doing all that he could.
I believe it’s important for your nephew to see you one last time. I urge you to return to Gray Manor with haste.
Miss Nott
A cold seeped through him, more bitter than the wind he’d spent the last several hours in. Rodger lay dying. That bright, eager lad. So smart. So amiable. He’d never live to adulthood. Never finish his education or wed.
Dread filled Gray. Not only was he losing his nephew, but he would become the new Earl of Crampton. He shuddered, thinking of even more duties that awaited him.
Including providing an heir.
If he didn’t, the title would go to some distant cousin who lived in the West Country. He’d never met anyone from that branch of the family. He owed it to his father to wed and have a son. His father had been such a kind gentleman and had wanted his sons to be the same.
Suddenly, what had seemed an enormous burden lifted from him. Gray was the same man he’d been moments ago—and yet everything had changed as he thought of his father. Instead of letting the war consume him in a raging inferno, it struck him he must put the past to rest. It was time to step up and become the man his father would have expected him to be.
To be a man good enough for Charlotte to wed.
He would admit to her how much he’d missed the children—and how much he needed them—and her—in his life. He could return to the country, where he’d always been happiest, at least before Stinkin’ Seymour had ruined everything for him. He would care for the land and his tenants. He would marry Charlotte and she’d become a countess, never having to work again. They could have children. Fill Gray Manor with children.
