by Abby Ayles
“What for? It’s cold out there today.”
“I know,” Samuel said, and sighed again, so deeply that you could have thought him an old man rather than a boy. “I just want to play sports again, like the other boys.”
Joanna bit her lip. It was heart-breaking, the look on his face and the emotion in his words. She reached out and touched his free hand. “Do you miss being with your friends?”
“Yes,” Samuel said. “I only got to spend a term with them. It was the winter break when I…”
“When you become unwell,” Joanna filled in gently, squeezing his hand.
“And now Edmund won’t let me go back.”
Samuel’s distress was obvious. He was imagining the other boys having all sorts of fun without him, no doubt, not to mention developing their education and playing sports.
But he was pale and thin, and Joanna had noted that he liked to sit down more often than stand. He would drop into a chair if he was unchecked for even a minute. There was no chance that he was strong enough yet to return to school.
“He’s made the right choice, darling one. You aren’t back to your full strength yet. But you will be, one day soon.”
Samuel looked up at her, with a kind of rampant hope and excitement in his eyes. “Do you think so?”
“Of course. We’ll work hard together, all four of us. When the weather is warmer, we’ll have you running rings around us while we study. We’ll get you hale and hearty again. How does that sound?” Joanna asked.
“It sounds magnificent,” Samuel said, his eyes shining.
He went back to his map work with a renewed vigour, and Joanna stood, smiling.
She watched him for a moment, hoping that she had not lied to him. The illness had been a serious one, but he was alive.
While that was the case, she had hope that he could become just like any other boy of his age, with time.
Joanna moved over to the desk where Amy sat, completing another round of her young pupils.
The little girl was carefully drawing out her alphabet in long, slow strokes, joining up all of her letters. While her hand was not quite steady enough to make perfect loops, her practice was certainly going well.
“Why don’t you try writing your letters a little faster?” Joanna asked. “Like that – yes, there you go. Can you do the whole alphabet like that?”
Amy completed her task all the way to ‘Z’, and Joanna praised her roundly.
The letters were a little varied in size and shape, but the foundation was there. Before long, Amy would be writing fluently, needing only to learn her spelling and formal structures.
“Will you show me how to write ‘Mama’?” Amy asked, the question coming as a complete surprise to Joanna.
“Of course I can. But why?”
“I want to write a message to Mama. I want to say how much I miss her,” Amy explained, staring down at her page and the ‘L’ she was practicing, over and over.
“Of course,” Joanna said, a twinge of sadness hitting her.
It did not seem right, that such a young child could only think to write a letter to her mother, instead of being with her. It was the way of the world, Joanna knew, and hardly an unusual case.
All the same, the thought of growing up without her own mother was almost unbearable.
Along with that came a fresh wave of grief at the loss of her father – a figure whom, of course, Amy had also lost. To see double the mourning at once, that was simply cruel.
“Do you miss your Papa?” Amy asked, turning her wide brown eyes Joanna’s way. Joanna felt how astute the girl was, despite her young years.
Children, she had noted previously, sometimes had a way of pinpointing emotions that adults had learned to ignore.
“Yes, I do,” Joanna said, honestly. She smiled through the water that had gathered in her eyes as she stroked Amy’s hair. “I miss him very much.”
“I miss my Papa too. But I want to write a letter to Mama first.”
“We’ll work on it together,” Joanna promised. “We’ll start tomorrow, and practice all the words you need. Then you’ll be able to write it on your own.”
Quite unexpectedly, Amy turned in her seat and threw her arms around Joanna’s neck, hugging her tightly. “Thank you, Miss Warrick,” she said.
Joanna felt a lump in her throat, too large to formulate a reply around it. She simply patted Amy’s back, and allowed her to cling on until she was done.
Then, when the little girl turned back to her alphabet practice, Joanna quickly wiped a tear away from her face and stood.
Glancing around the room, she saw Patience quickly looking away and back at her book. There was a small flush high in the girl’s cheeks as if she had been caught watching.
Then, as if unable to control her eyes, she looked up again. A small, shy smile graced her mouth for a moment, before she tucked her hair behind her ears and concentrated on her books again.
Joanna walked to the window, and allowed herself a real smile out to the gardens below. Things had changed, yes, and that was hard.
But perhaps they were not going to be so awful.
Chapter 6
Weeks had passed since his last questions, and Edmund thought it wise to bring the subject up at dinner once again.
“So, Amy, what did you learn today?” he asked, sipping at a small glass of wine in hopes of making his intentions seem more casual.
“We’re writing a letter,” she said, quite happily.
“Oh, really? A letter to whom?” Edmund asked.
“I learned a new type of dance,” Patience said loudly, cutting across her younger sister’s reply.
Edmund looked at her in surprise, and found her glaring across the table. Then she caught her brother’s eye, and smiled sweetly. “Would you like to see it?”
“Not at dinner,” Edmund replied, taken aback by her interruption. “Perhaps later, when we have some space in the drawing room.”
Samuel sighed. “Why do girls love dancing so much?” he asked.
Edmund gave him a smile and a conspiratorial wink. “You may find that you enjoy it yourself, when you are a grown man.”
“Why?” Samuel asked, making a face.
“Well, for one thing, it allows you to converse and spend a pleasant while with fine young ladies.”
Samuel shook his head, and put a bite of carrot in his mouth with a dismissive air that made Edmund laugh.
“Since we are talking of dancing,” Patience said, with an air that instantly made Edmund suspicious. “I know we received a letter from the Haverhams. They have a ball taking place in three weeks. Everyone is talking about it. Could it be that it was an invitation they sent?”
Edmund sighed. He had hoped he could keep this a secret from Patience, but she had clearly been waiting for news of it.
“Yes, they did invite us to the ball.”
“Oh, Edmund!” Patience cried out, smiling happily. “I’m so excited! Will you allow me to go into town for a new gown?”
Edmund frowned, and shook his head. “I don’t see why you might need a new gown,” he said, deliberately playing dense.
“Well, I can hardly go to a ball in an old dress. It must be something for the new season,” Patience said, sounding as offended as if he had criticised her hair.
“But Patience, you aren’t going to the ball,” Edmund said. “No one is going to the ball. Not from this household.”
“Should we run away?” Amy asked in a loud whisper to Samuel.
“There’s no need for hysterics,” Edmund cautioned, laying down his knife and fork to make his point seriously. “You’re not ready to go to a ball yet, Patience. You shall have to live up to your name for a while longer.”
“But I’ve waited so long!” Patience moaned. “Eliza Haverham is a month younger than me. She’ll be there. In fact, the ball is in her honour.”
“I refuse to judge you by the standards that others feel compelled to sink to,” Edmund said, shaking his head aga
in.
“If the Haverhams wish to introduce Lady Eliza into society before it is quite fit to do so, that is their choice. I shall not be making the same mistake.”
“But… but…” Patience gasped, clutching her hands in front of her chest.
“There will be so many opportunities there. It’s such a big gathering, there are bound to be many businessmen there. And wealthy men, brother. They might be interested in working with you. You should meet them.”
Edmund thought this over for a second, taking another drink of his wine. The girl was right, of course.
It was a good opportunity – too good to pass up. This was the kind of gathering his father would have attended with relish, seeing it as a way to increase his fortune near enough overnight.
“Yes,” he said, after a long moment. “Yes, I fancy you’re correct. I should go to the ball.”
“Oh, how wonderful!” Patience exclaimed. “I know we’ll have so much fun, brother, I just know we will!”
“No, I said I should go. Not you,” Edmund said. He pretended not to enjoy the way Patience’s face dropped immediately into a sulky look of disappointment.
“This isn’t fair,” Patience said, her face reddening.
“You’re not going, and that’s final,” Edmund said.
Patience gave a frustrated noise and stood up abruptly, the legs of her chair scraping back against the floor.
She turned with a harrumph and marched out of the room, not before fixing her brother with a wild glare.
Edmund sighed to himself. He wondered how many such glares, and how much silent treatment, he was going to have to endure over the coming three weeks.
No matter. His decision was final.
“Miss Warrick wouldn’t let Patience be moody like that,” Amy piped up.
“You’re fond of her, aren’t you, Amy?” Edmund asked. He was glad of the opportunity to steer the conversation back in the direction he had originally intended.
Samuel scoffed. “Amy’s in love with her,” he said.
“Be kind, Samuel,” Edmund said. “Your sister is allowed to have affections. Especially if they are deserved.”
“She’s deversed,” Amy said, trying to imitate his word and failing. Her older siblings chuckled.
“Well, I’ll take you at your word,” Edmund said, smiling at his youngest charge.
“She is,” Amy insisted stubbornly. “She’s my favourite governess that we ever had. Even Patience likes her.”
“Is that so?” Edmund asked, looking at Patience’s empty chair. He thought about that piece of information, turning it over in his mind.
Maybe there was some room here for an advantage. Perhaps Miss Warrick would be able to help bring Patience in hand a little more.
After dinner, Edmund retired to his office room, sitting at his desk to work. There was much to be done, and it wouldn’t wait until the morning.
Orders needed to be signed, and letters needed his response. There were complaints to deal with, and negotiations to be made.
He had almost made his way through a stack of documents brought with him in a case from London when he heard a knock at the door.
“Come in,” he said, turning in his chair to face the door.
It was likely Jenkins, he thought, come to see if he would be needed any further for the night.
The head that appeared in the doorframe, however, was much younger and fairer. So much so, in fact, that he was quite taken aback to see it.
It was Miss Warwick, standing in the entrance with her hands clasped tightly in front of her and a determined expression.
“Lord Kelt, may I discuss something with you?” she asked. Her voice trembled slightly, but she looked up to meet his eyes all the same.
“Certainly,” Edmund said, intrigued now. He laid down his quill and gave her his full attention. “Is it something about the children?”
“Yes,” she said, turning to close the door behind her. There was a nervous energy in her actions, but she seemed reluctant to speak.
She paused before saying anything more, even though she opened her mouth as if she wanted to begin.
Was she coming to quit, already?
What would he do if that were the case? How would they cope?
No – what a ridiculous thought. Of course she wasn’t coming to quit her position. That wouldn’t make any sense. She had no reason to quit.
The children weren’t misbehaving, not that he had heard of. And he had treated her well, hadn’t he?
No, of course not. She wouldn’t quit, not now.
Why was he getting so worked up about the idea of her leaving, anyway? It made no matter to him. There were other governesses out there, weren’t there?
He brushed it aside in annoyance.
Better to simply find out what she wanted than to make assumptions.
“Is something wrong?” he asked, hoping it would prompt her to speak freely.
“Sir, I’m afraid it’s about Miss Patience,” Joanna said. “I don’t want to overstep my bounds, but I thought it would be remiss of me not to come to you. She’s been very upset tonight, and I found her almost inconsolable.”
“About the dance,” Edmund said, and sighed. He rubbed the bridge of his nose, shaking his head. “I’ve already told her that she is not to attend. It’s simply not suitable.”
“I understand that, my lord,” Joanna said, dipping her head. “It’s just that, as once a young lady myself, I also understand how she feels.
“It’s a very difficult time for her. The thing is, sir, I think it might be beneficial for her to attend.”
Edmund scoffed. Patience had the poor woman twisted around her little finger already.
He could already imagine what kind of a performance she must have out on. “How so? I’m not going to bend to her will simply because she has thrown a tantrum.”
“It’s not that, sir,” Joanna said, quickly. “Actually, I’m speaking as a governess, concerning her education.
“You see, I have been helping Miss Patience to practice her dances over the past weeks, and she is becoming quite accomplished. However, the practice in the school room is never quite adequate to replicate the feeling of being at a ball. I believe she needs to experience it for herself.”
Edmund shook his head again. “No. I’ve to attend this ball in order to talk with some business associates of mine. I won’t have the time to chaperone Patience and watch over her dancing. It’s out of the question.”
“You wouldn’t need to, sir,” Joanna said, and hesitated almost shyly. “I… well, I thought that I could chaperone her on your behalf. I will be able to make sure that everything flows smoothly.
“It will also afford me the chance to observe her in some social interactions, and assess whether there are any topics we ought to add to her deportment lessons.”
Edmund wanted to tell her no again, but he found he was running out of excuses. Miss Warrick, it seemed, had thought of everything.
He was beginning to feel that whatever he might give her as a reason to leave Patience at home, Miss Warrick would already have a response prepared.
Not only that, but her request itself was enough to make him hesitate. She was determined to argue on her charge’s behalf, and Edmund sensed a deep care in her.
She had risked his displeasure by interrupting him in his office, and then again by arguing her case.
She must care a lot for Patience in order to take that risk, he realised. It was enough to make him consider it for a moment longer.
The more he thought about it, the more he liked it. There were many benefits here, and not all of them that Miss Warrick could have foreseen.
All in all, hers was a fine plan. He could watch Miss Warrick for signs of scandal, and at the same time, she might be able to help him out with finding some information about the other attendants of the ball.
Between them, they could create some interesting business deals. It would help him to ensure that she really was a sui
table governess for the children, not just a charming young woman who made them smile.
All that whilst keeping Patience happy at the same time, and avoiding any further squabbles at the dinner table.
That was something he was keen to ensure, if only to preserve his sanity for the next few weeks.