The Bride of Ivy Green

by Julie Klassen

  Jane smiled at the physician. “Thank you for coming all this way to see him, Dr. Burton.”

  “Well, he wasn’t about to come and see me, was he?” Dr. Burton frowned at her father, then turned to Jane. “We heard voices in the passage. Have you met his . . . ?” The physician let the words trail away, a rare flush reddening his neck as he realized he was about to divulge a patient’s secret.

  Jane reassured him, “Yes, I have just met his son. My little half brother. How strange to say the words! Is he healthy? He certainly appears to be.”

  “He is, yes. As far as I can tell. Though I am no expert on insidious foreign fevers.” He glared at her father, sardonically repeating his words, then turned back to Jane. “Well, I will leave you. Enjoy your visit.”

  “Come in, Jane.” Her father held the door for her, and Jane stepped inside.

  “I hope you don’t mind my coming to see you,” Jane said. “You left without answering my questions about your son. I was too curious to wait any longer. I just met him. Jack Ah-vee. Am I saying that correctly?”

  “Yes. A good English name and a good Indian name. Half and half, like he is.”

  “He is a handsome lad and speaks beautiful English. I briefly saw his nurse as well. I am surprised she would travel so far to care for the boy.”

  He nodded. “She was Rani’s maidservant and stays with us for her sake. Rani was very kind to her when her own people were not.”

  Jane murmured, “Good of her.”

  He nodded. “It’s a godsend to have her help caring for Jack Avi now that his mother is gone.”

  Jane added, “And someone to watch over him when you came alone to see me.”

  “Yes. I hope you don’t think it terribly deceptive of me. I wanted to get the lay of the land first, to gauge your reception of me before I complicated matters by introducing my son.”

  “I understand. I am glad you decided not to leave him in India.”

  “Are you? That’s good, Jane. For so am I.”

  “Will you bring him to Ivy Hill? Gabriel will want to meet him. And Miss Matty, and . . . oh, everyone!”

  “Perhaps not everyone,” he said more cautiously. “But yes, I shall. I had planned to bring him to meet you soon, but I am having English clothes made for him—a suit like mine and two skeleton suits for play. The tailor should have them ready any day now.”

  “I wouldn’t have cared about that.”

  “No need for him to stand out more than he has to. Nor do I want anyone to mistake him for a servant.” He took a deep breath, then changed the subject. “Now, shall we take tea together? I must offer you some refreshment after coming to Wilton to see me.”

  “I would enjoy that. Might Jack Avi join us? And his . . . ayah . . . if she would like.”

  “Priya does not like to venture down to the public dining room. She draws too many curious stares. Nor is she comfortable sitting at the same table with the sahib. But I shall have tea sent up and we may all partake together. I have a small table there and can bring in two more chairs.”

  Half an hour later, the four of them sat in one corner of her father’s room, a tray of tea things and a platter of bread and butter, muffins, and fruit on the round table before them. Jack Avi sat on one side of Jane, and her father on the other. The nurse sat a few feet away from the rest of them, looking ill at ease.

  Winston Fairmont, however, beamed happily. “How wonderful to have my son and daughter at the same table with me. My family all together.”

  He did not mention the two wives he’d lost, but Jane could not help but think of them. She wondered what her mother would have thought to meet Jack Avi. She also wondered what Rani had been like, and what she would have thought of her husband’s daughter.

  Jane became aware of the silent nurse studying her face and shifted uncomfortably under her scrutiny.

  “Why does she stare at me?” Jane whispered.

  Her father asked the woman something in a quiet, musical language Jane did not understand. The woman answered, her dark eyes returning to Jane’s face.

  “Priya says you have my eyes. She also says your mother must have been a beautiful woman.”

  Jane’s heart warmed to the nurse. She smiled at her. “Thank you, Priya. She was.”

  On her way back to Ivy Hill, Jane stopped at the Fairmont. She hoped she would not get the new governess into any trouble by interrupting her teaching, but she could not wait to share the news with her close friend.

  Mercy and Alice sat on a bench in the garden together, sketchbooks open and pencils busy when Jane arrived.

  Mercy smiled and waved. A groom hurried forward to take charge of the horse and gig, while the porter helped Jane alight.

  She thanked the men, then said to Mercy, “I hope you don’t mind me showing up like this.”

  “Not at all. You are very welcome.”

  “May we talk, just for a few minutes?”

  “Yes. Alice was just asking if she could pay her daily visit to the kittens, so I can easily spare half an hour.”

  “Wonderful.”

  Mercy led the way to the front door. “Do come in. Though how strange it must seem for you—that I should be welcoming you into your former home!”

  Jane chuckled. “I cannot deny it. My childhood friend, living here as a governess. Never would I have guessed.”

  “Nor I. Well, come up and see the schoolroom and my bedchamber. I know Mr. Drake has already shown you the rest of the hotel.”

  Yes, and Jane was in no hurry to repeat the discomfiting experience. She was glad for this chance to see Mercy, however, and to assure herself she was well.

  She followed Mercy up one pair of stairs, then another. They passed attic storage rooms that, according to James, still held Fairmont family portraits, books, and other memorabilia. Someday, when she had more energy and perspective, she might brave a look through the relics. Perhaps with her father. But not today.

  Mercy opened the door to the old schoolroom. For a moment Jane closed her eyes and breathed the still-familiar smell of plaster and musty books. “Oh, the hours I spent in here, though all I wanted was to be out-of-doors riding Hermione.”

  “Were your governesses kind to you, Jane?”

  “Yes, but I only had the one. Miss Morgan. She read me stories—that I remember enjoying.”

  “We had several,” Mercy said. “Most didn’t stay long. But I liked Miss Dockery the best. I hope to emulate her firm yet kind ways.”

  “I am sure you shall.” Jane looked around. “The schoolroom is much as I remember it.”

  Mercy nodded. “I brought over the globe and maps from my former school, but otherwise I have changed little.”

  Jane walked forward, her gaze pinned on the puppet theatre.

  “This I don’t recognize.” She ran her hand over the five-foot-high wooden structure and tentatively parted the velvet curtains. Then she examined the four puppets: king, queen, prince, and princess. “How I would have loved this as a child.”

  Mercy nodded. “Alice is enamored with it as well.”

  “A gift from Mr. Drake, I imagine?”

  Mercy hesitated. “Mr. Kingsley, actually. Or at least, he built it and carved the puppets. Mr. Drake likely paid him for his time though.”

  Jane turned to study Mercy and noticed her fidget.

  “Mr. Kingsley still works here a great deal, does he not?”

  “Um-hm.” Mercy gestured toward the door. “Come, let me show you my room, then we can go back downstairs for tea.”

  Over tea and cake in the coffee room, Jane began. “I have news. I have a little brother. Well, a half brother. I just met him. I still can’t believe it.”

  Mercy’s mouth opened in astonishment. “Oh, Jane! Nor can I! Tell me everything.”

  Jane happily did so.

  When she finished, Mercy slowly shook her head. “How strange to learn you are not an only child after all.” Mercy pressed her hand. “I am so happy for you, Jane. I hope I shall meet him.”r />
  “I will make sure you do. Perhaps at church, if not before.”

  “And how wonderful that your father and brother shall be here to celebrate your wedding.” Mercy added, “How go wedding plans, by the way?”

  “Fairly well, I think. The wedding breakfast will be at The Bell. I know it won’t be as smart as Rachel’s wedding, but I hope people will enjoy it. I wonder if the dowager Lady Brockwell will even attend such a humble affair.”

  “I would think so. And you know Rachel and Timothy wouldn’t miss it. Nor would I.”

  “Thank you. That reminds me,” Jane said, “I spoke to Rachel a few days ago.”

  “Oh? How is she?”

  “Well. Happy. Surprised to hear about you.”

  Mercy ducked her head. “The Brockwells are no doubt scandalized.”

  “I wouldn’t say that, but taken aback, yes.”

  Mercy sipped, then said, “I suppose everyone thinks it was wrong of me to leave Ivy Cottage to become a governess.”

  “No, my dear. Not everyone. And those of us who have met your sister-in-law are among the most understanding.” Jane grinned at her friend, but Mercy barely returned it.

  “My parents are not happy about the situation but have apparently accepted it.”

  Jane felt her eyes widen. “Have they?”

  Mercy nodded. “Aunt Matty wrote to assure them of Mr. Drake’s respectability and to hint that grandchildren might be more quickly forthcoming if the newly married couple had more time alone.”

  Jane slowly shook her head, another grin overtaking her. “Everyone knows you are clever, Mercy. But I didn’t realize you shared that trait with your aunt.”

  “I do indeed.”

  Jane took a long sip, then set down her cup and rose. “Well, I think we’ve reached the end of our half hour, and I don’t want to get you into trouble with your respectable new employer.”

  Mercy rose as well and walked her out. She asked, “By the way, have you spoken any further with Victorine?”

  “No, but I have invited her to join me for breakfast tomorrow. I will let you know how it goes.”

  chapter

  Twenty

  The following morning, Jane was sitting at the booking desk when Victorine entered the inn.

  Jane rose. “Good morning, Victorine. Thank you for coming.”

  “Thank you for inviting me.”

  “How are things going at the shop?”

  “Fairly well, I think. The vicar’s wife recently came in and bought a hat, and Miss Featherstone has asked me to make her a daydress.”

  “Good. I am glad we are keeping you busy here.”

  Outside, a horn blew, and a moment later, two arriving passengers hurried through the side door, headed for the dining parlour, one of them consulting his pocket watch.

  Victorine stepped aside as they passed. “Your inn is very busy too.”

  “Yes, thankfully. It keeps us in business.”

  Jane’s attention was then drawn to her mother-in-law, Thora, entering the hall, toddler Betsey in arms. The girl’s thumb remained firmly in her mouth, though Jane knew Hetty and Thora had tried everything to dissuade her.

  “Morning, Thora. Betsey is still sucking her thumb, I see.”

  “The girl is as stubborn as I am.” Thora gently pulled Betsey’s hand away with a pop, and the child immediately replaced it. “Good thing she’s adorable.”

  “Yes, she is,” Victorine agreed with a warm smile.

  Jane turned to include her in the conversation. “Thora, may I introduce Victorine, Ivy Hill’s new dressmaker? Victorine, this is Thora Talbot, my mother-in-law. And her granddaughter, Betsey.”

  Victorine reached out and gently brushed a lock of hair from the girl’s face. “She is so pretty. I like her ginger hair.”

  “Thank you. I quite agree. How goes the new shop? I’m afraid I haven’t much use for fashionable gowns now that I am a farmer’s wife. But I do like to support our local women in business, so I shall stop by sometime. When I don’t have Miss Touch-Everything-Sticky-Fingers with me.”

  Victorine smiled again. “You would be most welcome, Mrs. Talbot. Betsey too.”

  “Thank you. Well, don’t let us keep you two. Betsey and I just stopped by to visit Mrs. Rooke, who promised us shortbread.” Thora waved Betsey’s hand at the women and then continued down the passage.

  Jane glanced subtly at the clock, then turned to her guest. “Come, let’s sit in the coffee room and chat. What can I offer you to drink? Tea? Coffee?”

  “Tea would be lovely.”

  They sat near the door, and Jane ordered tea and toast for two.

  No sooner had the tea arrived than Jack Gander passed the coffee room, hesitating in the doorway. He brightened upon seeing her with Victorine.

  “Ah, Jack.” Jane turned to her companion. “Victorine, please allow me to introduce my friend, Mr. Jack Gander.”

  Victorine dipped her head in acknowledgment, but Jane did not miss the widening of her eyes. Jack Gander was a very handsome man with dark hair and eyes and a striking smile. He cut a fine figure in his red coat, a narrow shoulder belt emphasizing his athletic build.

  “Jack is a guard with His Majesty’s Royal Mail,” Jane said. “We are all very fond of him. And Victorine is our new dressmaker, only recently moved to Ivy Hill to set up business in Mrs. Shabner’s old shop.”

  “A pleasure to meet you.” Jack stepped closer and studied her face. “You look familiar to me, madame. I have seen you somewhere before.”

  Victorine gestured out the window. “My shop is across the street from this coaching inn, which you pass on your route. If you have seen me, I should not wonder.”

  “No, I meant somewhere else. Before you came to Ivy Hill.”

  She shifted uneasily. “Where?”

  “London, perhaps?”

  “I have been to London several times, but it is unlikely our paths would have crossed in such a large city.”

  “True, but I know I have seen your face before. I can’t recall where at the moment, but never fear, it will come to me.”

  “Is that a threat?”

  “A threat? Heavens, no! Why would you say that?”

  “I think you mean to frighten me, perhaps.”

  “Not at all. That is the last reaction I want from you.” He smiled at the dressmaker. “In fact, I must tell you that I am impressed, madame. Leaving everything and moving to a strange new place to start your own business. It is quite a risk, one many people would not take.”

  She shrugged off his attempt at flattery. “Life is full of risks, thrilling and terrifying at the same time—rather like a tightrope act.”

  Jane chuckled at the metaphor, but Jack’s smile fell away.

  “Tightrope act . . . ? Like the one at Astley’s Amphitheatre?” He leaned nearer, eyes alert. “Perhaps that is where I’ve seen you before.”

  “Me . . . with Astley’s! What an imagination you have. I have attended their shows but have never performed there. Good heavens!”

  He stilled, then said quietly, “I did not accuse you of performing there, only of seeing you there. Did you perform there?”

  “No! What a notion.”

  His gaze remained on Victorine, his brow furrowed with doubt. “Then where have I seen you?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Well, I travel a great deal. I must have seen you somewhere in passing.”

  Again Victorine shrugged. “Perhaps. If it helps, I have never seen you before in my life.”

  “Really?”

  She nodded.

  Jack drew himself up. “Then forgive me. I hope you don’t think me impertinent. Still, a pleasure to meet you, Madame Victorine. And now, duty calls.” He bowed. “Good day, ladies.”

  A few moments later, they heard the telltale blast of Jack’s horn as he signaled the five-minute warning to his passengers.

  The dressmaker asked, “Is he the reason you invited me here at this particular time?”

 
Jane could not tell if she was angry or not. “He said he wanted to meet you. He’s a good man, Victorine.”

  The dressmaker sipped her tea, then looked up at Jane. “I was telling the truth when I said I had never seen him before.” She bit back a small grin, blue eyes sparkling. “I think I would have remembered.”

  chapter

  Twenty-One

  When Mercy entered the schoolroom the next morning, she drew up short, stunned to see a framed slate hanging on the wall. It had not been there the day before. It was smaller than her old one in the Ivy Cottage schoolroom, but . . . Mercy walked forward, studying the frame, the familiar hue of the slate.

  Behind her someone cleared his throat, and she whirled in surprise, her eyes widening at the sight of Mr. Kingsley in the doorway.

  “I asked our local slater to recut the broken one,” he said, “and then I made a new frame for it.”

  It was the same one! Last she had seen the slate, he and Mr. Basu had carried it in two pieces up to the Ivy Cottage attic. “How did you manage it?”

  “Your aunt let me take it from the attic. I hope you don’t mind.”

  “Of course not.”

  “I know it’s not as big as before, but I thought it might still be useful.”

  “It certainly will be. I’ve missed having one. Thank you, Mr. Kingsley. That was exceedingly thoughtful of you.”

  “You’re welcome.” He stepped nearer. “Miss Grove, I . . .”

  Alice entered the schoolroom. “Good morning, Mr. Kingsley. You are just in time.”

  “In time for what?”

  “I am going to perform a puppet show. You can be the prince.”

  He grimaced. “I don’t think I’m qualified. Now, if you wanted a big bad wolf or a woodcutter . . .”

  “Please?”

  He hesitated, sending Mercy a pleading look. “What part is Miss Grove to take?”

  Mercy sat in a chair placed before the puppet theatre. “I am to be the enraptured audience.”

  “Ah, a difficult part indeed if I am to be one of the players.”

  “Just do your best, Mr. Kingsley,” Alice admonished in a grown-up voice that sounded very much like something Mercy might have said.