“James!”
They all turned as a handsome woman with silver-threaded blond hair walked forward, wearing a long, practical apron over her dress.
“You are early. You’ve caught me in my gardening things.” She removed her gloves as she approached.
“We made excellent time.”
“Alice! Come here, my dear, and let me see how much you’ve grown.”
Alice went forward, shy and eager at once, a suppressed smile dimpling her cheeks.
Mrs. Hain-Drake held out her hands, and Alice offered hers to be gathered in a fond embrace.
The older woman pressed the girl to herself, then held her at arm’s length. “I declare you have grown at least an inch since I saw you last. And prettier too.”
Alice beamed, and Mercy felt bittersweet pleasure wash over her. Alice’s happiness was hers, and she was thankful Alice had more people in her life to turn to for affection and comfort. Yet there was loss in the moment as well. A parent watching the child of her heart leave her confining nest to the arms of the wider world.
“Mother, this is Miss Mercy Grove, Alice’s former teacher and now governess. I mentioned her in my reply. I hope you will make her welcome.”
“Of course, of course. You are very welcome, Miss Grove. I have asked Mrs. Jenkins to prepare a room for you.”
“I would like her to be near Alice, if you don’t mind, Mamma. Not up in the attic.”
Mrs. Hain-Drake hesitated. “Oh. Well. Whatever you think best, James. I had planned to put Alice near me. But if you are willing to give up your old room, I could put Miss Grove there, and you could have your pick of the guest chambers.”
“Mr. Drake,” Mercy demurred, “I don’t want to put you out of your room.”
“It’s no trouble. I don’t mind at all. In fact, I insist.”
Mercy felt awkward at his adamancy. Alice had traveled here without a governess’s company before, so it seemed he was insisting more for Mercy’s sake than for hers. An excuse not to see her relegated to the servants’ quarters.
His mother turned to her. “Will you join us for dinner, Miss Grove? Or would you prefer a tray sent to your room?”
“A tray would be perfect, Mrs. Hain-Drake. If not too much trouble.”
“Not at all.”
“Are you certain, Mercy?” James asked hopefully. “You may join us.”
“I am weary from the journey, truth be told. An early supper and bedtime are all I want. You enjoy a family dinner with your parents.”
“Very good, Miss Grove.” His mother nodded, clearly approving her choice.
The matronly housekeeper appeared, followed by a young housemaid. After a terse side conversation with her mistress, the housekeeper turned to Mercy and said, “Miss Grove, Emily will show you to your room. And I will take Miss Alice to hers.”
As Mercy followed the housemaid up the stairs, she heard an older man’s low voice from below. “James, you made it. Do have compassion on my nerves, wife. Must you cackle like a hen over the mere arrival of expected guests?”
An apologetic murmur rose in reply, though Mercy could not make out the words.
Reaching James’s old room, the housemaid began unpacking her small trunk, and Mercy thanked her. As Mercy unpinned her hat and set it aside, she looked around the tidy, masculine chamber and saw scant remnants of his boyhood: a ribbon and a few other awards on the dressing chest, as well as a leather cricket ball signed by several teammates. She noticed a stack of his calling cards on the desk along with a fine writing set, blotter, and wax jack. On a bookcase were volumes on business and economics intermixed with what she assumed were a few old favorite novels, like Robinson Crusoe.
Finished unpacking, the maid bobbed another curtsy and left her. Mercy removed the jacket of her carriage dress, then washed her face and hands at the washstand. She had just decided to lie down on the inviting-looking bed for a short rest when a knock sounded at her door.
Mercy assumed it might be Alice or the housekeeper come to see if she had everything she needed. Smoothing her hair from her face, she turned to the door and called, “Come in.”
Mrs. Hain-Drake entered, wearing a tentative smile. “Miss Grove, I have come to ask you to join the family for dinner.”
“Thank you, but as I said, I am perfectly happy with a tray. Truly.”
The woman clasped her hands. “I know you did, but my husband is quite adamant.”
“But why? He does know I am the governess, does he not?”
“He wishes to judge that for himself.”
Mercy blinked in confusion. “I don’t understand.” Did he intend to test her knowledge of the classics or something?
The older woman sighed. “It’s James’s fault, insisting you sleep in his old room, near the family.”
Mortification flared. What did the man conclude from those circumstances?
Mrs. Hain-Drake took a step closer. “Come now, Miss Grove. No need for alarm. You are clearly a modest gentlewoman of good character, as he will see when he meets you.”
“I hope he doesn’t intend to embarrass me in front of Alice.”
“He won’t. Her cousins arrive tomorrow and the children will take their meals together then, but for tonight Alice will eat in her own room.” She returned to the door. “We dine in one hour, Miss Grove. I hope that will give you sufficient time to change. I shall send Emily up to help you.”
After the door closed, Mercy remained where she was, thinking. She’d hoped James had exaggerated his father’s unpleasant nature, but apparently not.
Soon the maid reappeared to help her change for dinner. Mercy was relieved now she had brought her green evening dress. Though with her stomach churning with anxiety, she doubted she could swallow a single bite.
A few minutes ahead of the hour, she descended the stairs and found her way to the anteroom.
A well-dressed gentleman of some sixty years stood there. His light brown hair had silvered at the side-whiskers and spidery blood vessels webbed his cheeks and nose, but he was still handsome. His eyes were bright green, reminding her of James. Those eyes held a calculating suspicion as they swept over her.
“You are . . . the governess?” He looked past her as though expecting to see someone else behind her.
“I am, sir.”
He hesitated, the fire in his eyes fading. “Miss Grove?”
“Yes. And you must be Mr. Drake’s father.”
“Guilty. Where did he find you?”
“I was Alice’s teacher in Ivy Hill. I managed a girls school in my home until circumstances forced me to close it.”
“What circumstances?” The flare of suspicion returned.
“My brother married and moved home, so I no longer had the space to accommodate pupils.”
“You look nothing like I expected.”
“No? And what did you expect, sir?”
“You will forgive me, Miss Grove, but when I was told my son insisted his female companion have his old room near the family, I doubted you were really a governess.”
Mercy felt her mouth part as the implications washed over her. She told herself she should not be personally affronted; the man knew nothing about her. But did he really think so poorly of his own son?
She said, “I assure you there is nothing untoward between your son and me.”
“Then please forgive my insolence, Miss Grove. I hope you will extend me some understanding. The last time my son came home, he brought with him a girl we knew nothing about and stunned us with the news that he planned to adopt her as his own daughter. Now this time he arrives with a woman we know nothing about, and I have been bracing myself ever since I heard, wondering what he might announce about his relationship with you.”
Mercy lifted her chin. “Your son has more honor than you give him credit for, Mr. Hain-Drake. In fact, I am surprised you have not yet visited him in all these months to see his new hotel. He has converted a grand old manor house into a fine posting inn.”
“You certainly give your opinion very decidedly. Not like any governess I’ve ever met.”
“I am only lately become a governess, sir, so the expectations of the role are new to me.”
“I suppose you did not have a governess of your own growing up?”
“I had several, actually, until my father insisted on educating me alongside my brother.”
“Did he indeed? And where is this father of yours now?”
“My parents live in London, sir.”
“Where?”
“Mayfair.”
His bushy eyebrows rose, impressed. “And what does your father do?”
“Do? He reads a great deal.”
“Idle, is he?”
“He is a gentleman.”
Once more his measuring eyes swept over her. Then he nodded, reaching some internal decision.
“I am glad you are joining us for dinner, Miss Grove. I want to hear more about you and how my son comports himself in rustic Wiltshire, wasting time on his latest pet project.”
“I would have preferred a tray in my room.”
“And I would prefer my son to—” He broke off and said instead, “We don’t all get what we want, do we.”
Mercy wondered what he’d meant to say. Pulling her eyes from the man’s challenging gaze, she decided to change the subject. “I was sorry to hear Alice will not be joining us.”
Mr. Hain-Drake frowned. “Formal dinners are no place for children.”
“How is a child to learn how to conduct herself at formal dinners if she is always excluded from them?”
His eyes narrowed. “Again, I must say, you speak your opinion most assuredly for one . . . so young.”
Had he meant to say for one in service? Mercy pretended to take it as a compliment. “Thank you.”
“My son takes great pleasure in flitting about from place to place, enterprise to enterprise. Turning his back on the family business, even eschewing his rightful Hain-Drake surname. I doubt he will ever grow up and accept his responsibilities.”
“Are we talking about the same man, sir? For he is considered responsible and successful by all who know him in Ivy Hill, as well as helpful and generous.”
He gave her a wry grin. “Are standards so low in this hamlet of yours?”
“Not at all.” Mercy went on to describe how Mr. Drake had helped her widowed friend save her inn and earn a license in her own name, and how he’d generously helped the new Lady Brockwell establish a circulating library for the village.
“And what about the girl?” he challenged. “You have only to look at her to see who her father is. I suppose you view him as above reproach there too? Personally, I don’t approve of his way of getting children.”
Mercy looked down at her hands for a moment, uncomfortable talking about such things with a man, let alone Mr. Drake’s father. She took a deep breath and replied, “Perhaps not. But at least he did his best to rectify a youthful transgression. When he became aware of Alice’s existence, he did not hesitate to acknowledge his duty toward her, which is more than many men would do.”
“How you defend my son.” Mr. Hain-Drake crossed his arms. “He has worked his renowned charms on you—that is clear.”
Mercy shook her head. “I merely speak the truth, sir. I admire your son as a friend and as my employer, but that is all.”
The man held her gaze a moment longer. “Pity.”
James entered the anteroom with his mother, who now wore a silk evening gown, her hair pinned in a high soft twist.
James looked from Mercy to his father, eyebrows raised. “I see you two have met.” He said to Mercy, “I do hope he is being polite to you.”
They all turned to her. Mercy hesitated, then smiled at his mother. “What a lovely gown . . .”
After dinner, Mercy declined tea in the drawing room, claiming fatigue, which was perfectly true. She was exhausted after making polite conversation over several courses, not to mention the tense interview with Mr. Hain-Drake beforehand. Mrs. Hain-Drake excused her graciously, and James walked out with her.
In a low voice he said, “I confess I overheard a little of your conversation with my father before dinner. How strange to hear you defending me.”
She looked at him in surprise, sheepish to think of all he might have heard. She said honestly, “I have never seen you as someone who needed defending before. I saw only the charming, confident exterior you show the world. But lately I’ve glimpsed the young boy who feels he will never please his father, no matter how hard he tries, so he pretends to disdain him and avoids visiting his house. And now that I have met your father, I can understand why. But I am sure, deep down, that he loves you.”
“Are you?” James shook his head, expression grim. “He has never once said so.”
She turned to him, laying a hand on his sleeve. “Oh, James. I know you don’t want to hear this, but I have to say it. Even if your earthly father never tells you, your heavenly Father loves you just as you are.”
He looked at her, sadness and fondness shining in his eyes. “Dear Mercy, how kind you are to care about my soul. I must say you paint a far different portrait of God from how I see Him.” He patted her hand. “By the way, I was proud of you tonight—how you stood up to the old man. He likes you—I can tell.” He smiled wanly, as if as weary as she. “Well, good night. Sweet dreams.”
“You too, James.”
chapter
Thirty-Three
The next morning, Mercy waited for Emily to deliver warm water, then washed and dressed, enjoying the maid’s gentle brushing of her hair. Ready for the day, Mercy went downstairs. None of the family was there yet, so Mercy ate a solitary breakfast, serving herself from the covered dishes on the sideboard. When she finished, she rose and stepped from the room.
Seeing a woman coming down the corridor, Mercy stopped and stared. Here was Alice grown up. Or at least what Alice might look like, twenty years on. The resemblance was arresting.
“You must be Lucy,” she breathed.
The younger woman smiled. “And you must be Miss Grove.”
James’s sister was a small, sweet-faced woman with golden hair and a gentle demeanor. Mercy liked her instantly.
“I am very pleased meet you,” Lucy said. “I am sorry we weren’t here to greet you. We were visiting my husband’s elderly aunt, but we rushed home as soon as we could.”
A high-pitched squeal and squeak of shoe leather drew Mercy’s gaze to the staircase behind Lucy.
Two children ran down the stairs, followed by their father carrying a younger boy and mildly chastising them to slow down and be careful. Alice and Mr. Drake brought up the rear of this procession.
“I don’t suppose you can do anything with my three while you’re here?” Lucy asked. “They’ve scared off two governesses already, incorrigible creatures, and now their nurse is threatening to give notice too.”
“Now, my dear,” her boyish husband said, joining them, “you will give Miss Grove the wrong impression. Lou-Lou and the boys are good children and intelligent. Just a bit . . . high-spirited.”
“Then perhaps we should all go outside for a game of tag or battledore and shuttlecock?” Mercy suggested. “Much easier to sit quietly indoors or concentrate on studies if one has taken exercise first.”
This suggestion was met with rousing cheers from the three and a smile from Alice.
Mercy turned to the children’s mother. “I will go out and watch over them while you have your breakfast. No doubt you will want to visit with your brother.”
“Thank you, Miss Grove.”
As Mercy walked away, shepherding Alice and the other children out of doors, she heard Lucy say, “She is a gem, James, an absolute gem. Where on earth did you find her, and has she a sister?”
Over the next few days, Mercy observed Alice and her cousins with pleasure. Alice and Lou-Lou—named for her mother, Lucy—walked hand in hand, played dolls, and brushed each other’s hair. Even the male cousins, Henry and Haro
ld, included Alice in their activities, introducing her to their dog and puppies, and trying to teach her to play cricket. Together, the four cousins acted out charades, played hide-and-seek, and built a fort of sofa cushions and bedsheets.
One afternoon, Mercy watched from the edge of the lawn as the four flew kites together. Inexplicably, she felt tears heat her eyes. Thinking herself unobserved, she let them flow.
“Mercy?” James’s voice resonated with concern. “What is it?”
He stopped beside her, his gaze skimming over the laughing children before returning to search her face. “What’s wrong? Has something happened?”
She shook her head, not trusting her voice.
His eyes hardened. “Has my father said something to upset you?”
“No.” She shook her head adamantly and wiped the tears with the back of her hand.
He captured her hand and held it in both of his own. “You’re scaring me. Do tell me what’s troubling you.”
“Nothing. It’s . . . I am just happy for Alice.”
“You don’t look happy.”
“Look at them out there. I have never seen Alice so joyful, so free. Do you know Henry wants to give her one of his prized puppies?”
“Won . . . derful,” James murmured sarcastically. “And will he train it as well?”
She chuckled. “They get on so well together. Boys or girls, it doesn’t seem to matter when they’re together. They play games and put on plays and enjoy one another’s company.”
“That all sounds excellent . . . except for the puppy to train. I still don’t understand why you are sad.”
“I’m not sad. Exactly. They are cousins, James.”
“Yes. So . . . ?”
“Henry told me they even plan to ask your father to take them all fishing—so Alice can learn how. Apparently, Lou-Lou already wrinkles her nose in disgust over hooks and worms, but he still holds out high hopes for Alice.”
James shook his head. “They will never get my father out of his office long enough to bait a hook.”
“The point is, they have accepted her,” Mercy persisted. “Alice is not alone any longer. She has cousins. An aunt and uncle. Grandparents.”
The Bride of Ivy Green Page 24