by Abby Ayles
And, he told himself, if he and Miss Warrick had to converse privately or even share a dance as part of this subterfuge, then that would just have to be the case.
Not that he would seek it out, of course. No, he would be there to engage in business instead.
Strangely, he even began to feel a slow stirring of excitement – even pleasure - at the prospect of accompanying his younger sister and her governess to the ball.
Fine, then. It all seemed to make sense.
“Alright,” he said, breaking a silence that had fallen after Joanna’s last words.
“It’s settled. We will attend the ball, all three. You will be held responsible for Patience’s behaviour, mark my words.”
“Of course, my lord,” Joanna said, breaking out into a brilliant smile that quite transformed her face into something lovely.
It was as if a candle had been lit in the room. Edmund found himself smiling back, though he quickly quelled the movement.
He tried to ignore, too, the strange feeling that welled up inside him at the sparkle in her eyes.
“I intend to hold you at your word, Miss Warrick,” he said. “You’ll watch over her.”
“Thank you, sir,” Joanna said, leaving the room with a graceful lightness in her step.
Edmund turned back to his desk and shuffled through his papers to find the invitation.
He took a fresh sheet and began to write out his response, accepting the invitation. He listed their three names, ensuring that the Haverhams would know who to expect.
As he wrote the words, a strange idea came over him.
It was that he had enjoyed seeing Miss Warrick give a genuine smile of happiness, and that he wouldn’t at all mind making it happen more often.
What an odd thing that was to contemplate.
Chapter 7
With Miss Patience excited about the prospect of finally getting to attend a ball, it became far easier to entreat her to practice her lessons.
She would talk of nothing else, and before long, Amy and Samuel took to sighing loudly every time she spoke.
They were bored of a topic that had no concern for them.
Amy was far too young to dream of dancing with young men, and the thought of mingling with elegant ladies was far from Samuel’s mind as well. He was still impatient to return to the company of boys his own age.
Patience, though, was quite another matter.
She mastered another two dances in the space of a week. She was learning so quickly now that she had a reason to, that Joanna suspected she had in fact been holding back for a long time.
Even despite the added excitement, the days had begun to adopt an aura of normalcy. Joanna knew what to expect now, and things were simpler.
She would rise in the morning, prepare herself, and eat a snatched breakfast in the kitchens. Then she would go to the schoolroom and meet her charges for their early lessons.
Their programme varied, and Joanna tried to ensure that each child’s education was balanced and strong.
While Amy laboured at learning her reading and writing, Samuel had more topics to tackle, including reading the globe and making his own maps.
Patience, meanwhile, had more yet to focus on, with her dancing and sewing.
The day seemed to pass quickly, and then Joanna would dine with the other servants.
Aside from Jenkins and Mary, there was also a cook, a groom, and Lord Kelt’s driver. Some nights, the driver would not dine with them, having not returned yet from London.
Then the evening would come, and after her simple meal, Joanna would return to the schoolroom. This, she felt, was often easier than retiring to the sitting room.
While she was permitted to do so, there was always a heavy silence, and she did not want to disturb the hard-working Lord Kelt.
So, her evenings were often spent alone. That was the time she found the most difficult.
Joanna’s heart was still heavy with thoughts of her family. She missed them dearly.
Her mother was frail since her father’s death, and she wished she could be with her. She wished to see her sister, Esther, too, and to talk animatedly with her as they had done for all her girlhood. They had been close as children, and never grew apart until Esther was married.
Hardest of all was missing her father. Joanna knew that, whatever the fates might allow, she would never see him again. Not in this life.
At least there was hope that she might meet the others of her family at some later stage. But her father was gone.
The thought brought her to tears. She held a faded ribbon, a once-red fabric that her father had bought her when she was a child, and cried into her hands.
Though she tried to be silent, her weeps turned into sobs at the deep loneliness that thoughts of her family brought with them.
“Miss Warrick?” A small, shy voice came from her side.
Joanna sat up abruptly, bringing her hands away from her face. She had not meant to be caught like this.
“… Miss Amy?” she said, almost dumbly. She was not prepared to see the little girl at that moment and could not have been more surprised. She must have snuck in quietly.
“Are you sad?” Amy asked, cocking her head to one side.
“Oh,” Joanna said, trying to find the words to answer the question.
She did not have to. Within a few moments, Amy had made a decision to take action. She stepped forward and wrapped her small arms firmly around Joanna’s waist, hugging as tightly as she could.
After the initial surprise, Joanna wrapped her own arms around Amy, holding her close.
She managed to squeeze her eyes closed enough that the last tears fell from them, and then she took strength from the grip of the little girl.
They stayed this way for a while, until Amy clearly felt that her work was done.
“Do you miss your Papa?” she asked.
Joanna smiled, though the question almost made her eyes spill over again.
“Yes, I do. And my Mama and sister too. I have never gone so long without my family before.”
“Don’t be sad,” she said, matter-of-factly. “We can play together.”
Joanna laughed, and patted Amy on the head.
“Not at the moment, dear one. You ought to be in bed. What would Lord Kelt say if he saw you wandering around the halls at this hour?”
“He’d say, ‘what a lovely girl you are’,” Amy grinned proudly, doing an impression of her brother that managed to be both a million miles off and very close to the original.
Joanna laughed again and wiped off the tracks of tears from under her eyes. It was difficult to argue with that.
She reached for Amy’s hand. “Come, now. Let’s get you back to bed,” she said, leading her out of the room.
The next morning was a Sunday, and so there were no lessons to be held. It was the only day when Joanna was not required, though truth be told, she had not much idea what to do with herself.
She went to the schoolroom just the same, to tidy up and to prepare her lessons for the week, after their morning at the church in the nearest village.
“Miss Warrick?”
The shy little voice always made her smile. Joanna turned from placing books back onto the shelves, to see Amy standing in the doorway with the cook.
As she watched, the cook bent and whispered something in Amy’s ear, and gave her a nudge forward.
“I made you a present,” Amy said, holding up a rag doll in front of her.
Joanna clasped a hand over her mouth. The doll was darling, if a little messy.
Amy had done her best, and from the neatness of some of the stitches, Joanna suspected that she must have had some help from Patience as well as the cook.
“Oh, thank you, Miss Amy!” she said, taking the doll from her hands.
She recognised some of the cloth that cook used in the kitchen and smiled. She must have donated some of her old rags.
“What a kind and thoughtful gift.”
“I made it so you won’
t be alone anymore,” Amy said, her childish voice rounding out her words and imparting them with a sweet naivety.
Joanna leaned down and kissed her on the forehead.
“I will treasure it,” she said. “You have made me very happy. Thank you.”
Amy beamed, obviously pleased to have done a good job. She giggled and scampered out of the room.
Just as she left, she called back over her shoulder. “She’s called Miss Prudence!”
Joanna laughed, examining Miss Prudence closely again and holding the doll under her chin.
“She was determined to make you a gift,” the cook said, walking closer so that they would not be overheard. “Worked hard on it, too. Most all of it her own work.”
“Not this neat stitching,” Joanna said, pointing to a few examples with a smile. “And not done so quickly, in the matter of only a few hours.”
The cook gave her a knowing look. “On that part I am sworn to secrecy,” she said.
She leaned in even further, then, to whisper.
“We’re mighty pleased to have you here, I must say, Miss Warrick. We’re hoping this will keep the children settled. If they can finally have a governess who will stay, it will be so good for them.”
Joanna’s smile faltered a little, though only for a moment.
“On that point I am afraid you would be better off counselling Lord Kelt,” she said. “I fear he is the one who must be convinced. I would not leave the children, unless it was him who bade me to go.”
“Oh, don’t you worry there,” the cook said, smiling conspiratorially. “He’s just as taken as they are. We all seen it. You’re not to be chased off from this house any time soon.”
The cook made her exit, but Joanna stood, holding the rag doll against her and thinking.
“Unless I make a mistake,” she said, out loud now that there was no one to hear it.
Turning back to the shelves, she glanced from the window, and her eye was caught.
Walking to look out, she saw a magnificent chestnut horse trotting by, out in the grounds.
Lord Kelt was riding it, a greatcoat spread out across its hindquarters. He had a stern look on his face, from what she could see at this distance.
She observed silently as he rode from left to right across her view.
Just as he was almost gone, he turned his head sharply. It seemed that he was looking right at her!
Joanna gasped, and threw herself to the side, away from the window.
What a silly reaction, she scolded herself, closing her eyes and breathing deeply. There was nothing wrong with looking out of a window.
Lord Kelt had been gone often lately, and Joanna wished that he would be around the home more.
Not that it should benefit her, of course. It was not as though it was her God-given place to sit with him in the sitting room at night.
Though, when he was home and she could sit by the fire to quietly sew, there was something about his silent presence that she found far less awkward than she had expected.
It was only the feeling that she might be holding him back from his work, or making him uncomfortable, that she disliked. And perhaps there was a way around that.
Maybe she could find some way, in time, to make herself useful to him.
Joanna wandered out of the schoolroom and down the hall, intending to put Miss Prudence away in her room.
As she passed by a large window in the hall, she noticed Samuel sitting on a bench before it with his feet on the seat and his knees up, his chin resting on his hand.
“Are you well, Mr. Samuel?” she asked, gathering close by him.
She saw that he was observing the same view that she had seen, and must have watched his brother ride by.
“Yes,” Samuel replied, none too convincingly.
There was room on the bench by his feet. “What are you watching, there?” she asked.
“Nothing,” Samuel sniffed.
Joanna decided not to push him on that point. She waited, looking out of the window alongside him.
“Did you see Edmund?” he asked, when she had been sitting silently for what must have been ten minutes or more.
“He rode past a while ago,” Joanna said.
“Yes,” Samuel confirmed. He reverted to silence for a while, resting his head on his hand and sniffling quietly.
“Do you miss your brother, Samuel?” Joanna asked, feeling that he needed a bit of help to confess what was wrong.
Samuel looked down at his own hands, picking at something on one of his fingers.
“Yes,” he said, eventually. “I miss both of them.”
“Your other brother doesn’t live with you,” Joanna said.
She wasn’t quite sure about the situation, though Jenkins had mentioned something. The best way, she decided, was to tread delicately.
“Christopher joined the army,” Samuel said. “He comes home sometimes. Edmund made him.”
Joanna supressed a smile at the way he said it. “He made him join the army?”
“He said Christopher needed discipline,” Samuel shrugged. “I guess he does. But I wanted him to stay home with us.”
“Do you like spending time with Christopher?”
“Yes. But he fights with Edmund. I don’t like when that happens. I wish they could both be home again like when Mama and Papa were here.”
Joanna reached out and touched Samuel’s hand, squeezing it for a moment.
“I know you miss them. I miss my family, too. We just have to keep each other company.”
Samuel looked up at her then and smiled. His eyes were shiny with tears, but at least he was brave enough to smile. “We can do that,” he agreed.
“Good,” Joanna told him. “I’d like that very much. And we can look after your sisters, too.”
“They need a lot of looking after,” Samuel said, with heavy emphasis.
Joanna laughed and ruffled his hair. Samuel chuckled along with her, then got to his feet.
“I’m going to read a book. Thank you, Miss Warrick,” he said, calling the last words over his shoulder as he made his way down the corridor.
Joanna watched him go, and then looked out of the window for a while longer.
She, too, wished that Edmund could spend more time at home. It was better for the children, and that was better for her.
There was something good about him being there, too, something she couldn’t quite explain. But for the children, she told herself, it was more important than anything else.
Chapter 8
Edmund was just starting to feel accustomed to the new routine in the house, with Joanna as a part of their lives, when his middle brother arrived to throw everything off kilter again.
“Hello, brother,” Christopher Hardwicke said, leaning against the doorframe of his office room at the home.
Edmund looked up in surprise. “You didn’t send word that you were coming for a visit,” he said, narrowing his eyes.
“Yes, brother, I’m very well, thank you for your concern,” Christopher said, continuing the conversation on his own as if Edmund had not spoken. “The journey was fine. So kind of you to ask.”
Edmund scowled. “Don’t play games with me. What are you doing back?”
Christopher stood up straight, lifting his arms out to either side. “Aren’t you pleased to see me? And looking so obedient, too?”
He had a point about the obedience. Edmund, and his father before him, had been trying to encourage Christopher for years to join the military. He had few options available to him as a second son, since there was no room for more than one hand on the tiller of the business.
Even if there had been, Christopher’s hands were unsuited in the most obvious way.
The boy was irresponsible, and cared only for pleasure. With their father gone, it had fallen to Edmund to try to steer him in the right direction.
In the end he had had to resort to threats. Either Christopher enlisted in the army, or he would be cut out of his allowance and a
ny inheritance that might be granted him.
“You’re an officer, then?” Edmund grunted, eyeing his brother’s sharp red uniform. It looked so new that he doubted it had been worn before today.
“Newly minted,” Christopher said, pretending to polish one of the gold buttons on the front of his coat. “Aren’t you proud of me, brother?”