by Linda Ford
She took Lilah onto her lap, still looking at her nephew in disapproval. “Your sister is putting herself out for your sake. You should be more appreciative of her efforts.”
He approached Maddie and handed her the cup. “You’d best buck up, as I told Harry,” he said with a wink.
“Now, Reid, pay attention,” his aunt continued. “We’ve drawn up a list of twenty guests to invite, most of whom you are acquainted with. By the way, did you know Cecily Mason is widowed? Such a beautiful woman and still so young.”
Maddie had met Mrs. Mason once at a similar tea in this parlor and remembered her as a very attractive, poised woman. Was Lady Haversham hoping to play matchmaker for her nephew? Maddie looked down at her teacup, realizing the thought filled her with dismay.
The conversation continued in a buzz around Maddie as the women discussed the guest list. Thankfully, everyone, including the children and Lilah, ignored her for the moment.
She thought of how Mr. Gallagher had so staunchly defended her and felt cocooned in a cloud of wonder at how one man—whom she hadn’t even known a fortnight ago—could become her champion.
Finally, she lifted her teacup to her lips though her hand still trembled. Taking a small sip of her tea, she found he had sweetened it.
He’d remembered from their times of taking tea in the library how she took her tea...a lump of sugar, no lemon, no milk.
She glanced at Mr. Gallagher. He sat to her left, close to his sister. He was as handsome in profile as he was facing forward. He was still very much a mystery to her, a man who kept the few words he spoke to her during their times in the library strictly on the work at hand. She had learned so much on the subject of Egyptology from him, yet she had gleaned almost nothing about the man himself. His actions, on the other hand, spoke volumes. He was always patient in explaining the work to her. This afternoon, she’d witnessed compassion, camaraderie, a way with children, authority, a sense of humor.
What had compelled him to leave England and stay in the desert for so many years?
Maddie took another careful sip of tea. Mr. Gallagher’s personal life was no business of hers, she reminded herself. Like Lady Haversham, he was her employer, and her only obligation, besides fulfilling her duties satisfactorily, was to shine Christ’s light into their lives, as was the duty of any man or woman of faith. She didn’t know anything of Mr. Gallagher’s faith, but she did sense a reserve that perhaps spoke of a wound not fully healed.
How she longed to offer a healing balm to that wound.
* * *
Maddie wrote to one of her brothers that evening at her desk.
Dearest Todd, I have the most wonderful news. The missionary society shall be receiving an additional bank draft this fortnight for your labors in West Africa.
You ask how I am able to manage this on my meager salary. Well, the Lord has blessed me with a bit of additional work.
You know Lady Haversham has a nephew? I think I wrote you about him, Mr. Reid Gallagher. He is an Egyptologist...
Maddie went on to describe how she had come to be his assistant. As she reached midway down the other side of the paper, she held her pen in the air a moment before continuing.
He is a most considerate and generous man. I had told him that any additional payment was not necessary beyond what Lady Haversham pays me. But he insisted. I told him the money would go to missions work. This didn’t seem to bother him at all. I know you’d like him.
Maddie stopped and turned the sheet over to reread what she’d written already. It occurred to her halfway through that she had written almost exclusively about Mr. Gallagher.
She picked up her pen again. “He is an older man,” she continued, then paused again. Her brother would probably form a picture of a sixtyish gentleman puttering about in a museum, when the reverse was true. Mr. Gallagher was a man in his prime, vitally alive, virile and the very opposite of a doddering professor.
Maddie chewed on the end of her pen. Was she misleading her brother? She hadn’t said Mr. Gallagher was Lady Haversham’s great-nephew, just her nephew. With that last sentence, she was deliberately implying he was much older than her almost thirty years.
Her glance strayed away from the page, picturing Mr. Gallagher’s handsome features. She didn’t know how old he was but didn’t think he could be above forty. What would her brother think if he knew this and read her letters full of her activities at Mr. Gallager’s side? Would he begin to suspect anything of her growing feelings for the man?
She swallowed, looking back down at her words. She hated deception and considered starting the letter over or crossing out the last sentence and inserting the word great to the reference to nephew, but finally she shook her head. That would look much too obvious. And as far as starting afresh, she really didn’t want to waste a whole sheet of paper.
With a sigh, she continued writing, but this time made a deliberate effort to talk about Lady Haversham, her niece’s visit and then went on to talk of last Sunday’s sermon. She didn’t close the letter until she was satisfied that other items filled as much space as all she’d written of Mr. Gallagher and her work with him.
The exercise was for her own good. She must put things back into perspective. She was only an employee of Mr. Gallagher’s. In a few weeks, he’d be back in his beloved Egypt, and she...
She looked down at the envelope, which would soon be on a ship on its way to West Africa, while she remained behind, doing her small part to help those who were bravely carrying out the Lord’s great commission.
Chapter Six
Reid paced the library, his steps muted by the thick pile of the carpet, as he dictated to Miss Norton.
“The faience vessels and fragments are likely from the area surrounding the small temple at Karnak. They are painted blue and have black lines and other markings. By their similar shape and color to those found at Gournah by Champollion on his Franco-Tuscan Expedition, I would place them in the Middle Kingdom—”
He broke off at the sound of a pen falling. He turned quickly to see Miss Norton fumbling for it. He noticed her other hand was rubbing her temple.
“Are you all right?” She looked pale, but only nodded and attempted to continue writing.
“Are you sure?”
“Just a bit of a headache is all. I’ll be all right. Pray continue. You ended with ‘Middle Kingdom’?”
“Never mind that. How long have you had a headache?”
“It’s nothing, really.”
In a few strides, he was at her side. “Look at me.”
Slowly, she turned her face up to his and he was struck by the shadows under her eyes. “Have you been getting enough sleep?”
Her gaze slid away from his. “I... I was a little restless last night.”
He frowned, thinking how often she was summoned by his aunt. Did she ever have any time to herself? “How long has it been since you’ve been outside, getting some exercise?”
“I... I don’t remember.” Her voice was barely above a whisper now.
He stepped away from her and stroked his jaw. “Is this job too much? I know my aunt has you at her beck and call every moment of the day. If this job is taking away from your only time to get outside and get some fresh air—”
Her large eyes shot to his. “Oh, no, Mr. Gallagher. I’ll be fine—”
He didn’t let her finish but wheeled around and headed toward the door. “Come on.”
“Where are you going?”
“Get your hat and shawl or whatever you need and come along. I’ll meet you in the front hall.”
She stood and began to follow him. “But your dictation—”
“It can wait. Now, I’m taking you for a walk before you become seriously ill.”
“That’s not necessary, Mr. Gallagher. I’m perfectly fine, I assure you. I can take a powder—”
He stood by the doorway, his hand on the knob. “I don’t need my assistant to fall ill on me. Now, we do this my way, or I’ll have to get myself another assistant.”
She shut her mouth and preceded him out.
Once outside, Reid led her across the square at a brisk pace. “I’m not going too fast for you?” He slowed his pace as he realized her skirts might be hobbling her.
“Not at all,” she said, keeping up with him. At least she didn’t wear that ridiculous high bustle women favored these days. That contraption always reminded him of a one-humped camel. He glanced at her. She wore a nondescript brown skirt and tailored jacket. The colors offset the lighter shade of her hair. The outfit was similar in its simple lines to a riding outfit, although the narrow skirt looked hard to take long strides in. He slowed his steps some more.
He hoped he hadn’t spoken too roughly to her. He really didn’t know how to deal in the pleasantries women expected. With men, he was used to saying things straight-out, not wasting precious words. It had been too many years since he’d made time in his life for women.
There was something about Miss Norton, however, that brought out his protective instincts. Was it that his aunt seemed to take such advantage of her and she seemed so incapable of resisting the abuse? His aunt had always had some companion working for her whenever Reid had visited her in latter years, but he’d never paid much attention. They usually seemed faded women long past their prime and Reid hadn’t given them a second look.
Why had Miss Norton warranted not only a second look, but a place in his work? Was it because she seemed much too young and attractive and lively? The words came to his mind thinking of her enthusiasm whenever they came upon a particularly choice artifact, or her willingness to play along with the children’s games....
In short, Miss Norton seemed the least “companion” type he’d ever seen. He kicked at a pebble in the pathway cutting through the square. What did he know of companions?
“How—how—” Now he was being as hesitant as Miss Norton. He cleared his throat and began again. “How did you end up working for my aunt?” he asked her, fixing his gaze straight ahead.
“An old friend of hers lives in the same village as my parents. She happened to mention your great-aunt to my parents, and as I was looking for a situation at the time, I wrote to her.”
He glanced sidelong at her. “Have you always been a companion? Why not teach?”
She seemed to swallow a laugh. “You saw me with your sister’s children and you can ask that?”
“Not all children are as spoiled as my niece and nephews.”
“They are not bad children,” she said immediately. “I didn’t mean to imply that. I merely lack the authority to keep them in control. It’s not to say I don’t enjoy children or teaching them. But somehow, the first situation that came to me when I was much younger was that of a companion.” She smiled a faraway smile. “That was a good situation. The lady was a bit of an adventurer like yourself, except she confined her travels to Europe. When she wasn’t in England, she would spend several months in France or Italy. I enjoyed traveling with her. She put me in charge of making all the arrangements. She had a wide circle of friends and acquaintances. She was a kind and generous person.”
Reid wondered that someone in that circle hadn’t latched on to Miss Norton...a gentleman, he admitted reluctantly. As he observed her under the dappled light of the tender green foliage overhead, he noticed her hair, pulled into a heavy knot at her nape, was definitely worthy of Titian. Her skin was porcelain—flawless, delicately tinted at the cheeks. And her eyes—a man could get lost in those soulful eyes.
He coughed, shifting his gaze back onto the street. “You must have met a lot of people.”
“She—Mrs. Worthington, that is—enjoyed entertaining artists and writers.”
“You never—uh—met anyone?” He felt annoyed at himself for fishing, but couldn’t help it.
“I met many people through her.”
He took her arm lightly as they crossed the street and made their way down Upper Belgrave.
“I mean...no one in particular...?” He stopped, embarrassed at his own ineptness at framing the question.
She looked at him. “You mean a gentleman?” She shook her head. “Oh, no, no one like that.”
Subject closed. Served him right for prying. He certainly wouldn’t appreciate anyone probing into his personal affairs. His family had long respected his silence on Octavia. “What happened to your employer?”
“She had such a youthful spirit that I often forgot how old she was becoming. She died peacefully in her sleep a little over a year ago. We’d been together for several years.”
“I’m sorry. You must have been close.”
She smiled gently. “Yes.”
When she offered no more, he risked another question. “So then you went in search of a new position.”
“Not immediately. I spent a fortnight with my parents. But then, yes, I wanted to seek employment. I... I didn’t want to stop sending my brothers my support.”
He narrowed his eyes at her, remembering her earlier reference to their missionary work. “Is that where all your income goes?” He immediately realized the impertinence of the question. “Forgive me, Miss Norton, I didn’t mean to pry.”
“That’s all right. I help support my parents, of course. But as you see, I have no dependents, so yes, most of my income goes to the Lord’s work in the mission field. There’s so much need there. My brothers write to me about the work, and I only wish I could do more. My brothers are the ones giving their lives for the Lord’s work. I’m just doing a very small part to help them carry it out.”
Taking abuse from his aunt and scrimping and saving every penny didn’t seem such a small thing from his point of view, but he said nothing.
“It’s a lovely day, is it not?” she asked.
Sensing her wish to change the topic, he complied. “London does have its moments, though they are few and far between.” He spoke the words, but his mind was dwelling on what she’d told him. “There are days, as today, when the wind is blowing in the right direction, houses aren’t having to be heated so much, that one can almost see blue sky.” He looked up, observing the sky through the trees. “The air has almost regained a sense of freshness...the stench of the summer heat hasn’t yet begun.”
She laughed. “I confess, I did enjoy the months with my first employer that we spent outside of England. The Italian countryside is particularly beautiful.”
“Yes. I spent many summers when I was a lad near Florence. My mother fancied herself a painter.”
She looked at him with interest. “Really?”
“Yes. She achieved some success, actually, as an illustrator of botanical books.”
“What was her name?”
“Andrea Farringdale.”
“Not Gallagher?”
He shook her head. “She kept her maiden name professionally.”
“Is that unusual?”
“Yes.” He smiled. “My mother was an unusual lady. A pioneer in many ways. She believed women should receive the same education as men and never let the fact that she was married and the mother of children stop her from pursuing her own career.”
A light came into Miss Norton’s tawny eyes. “Your mother sounds very special.”
“Yes. She gave me an appreciation for art.”
“Perhaps she influenced you in the direction your interest took toward ancient art.”
“Undoubtedly to a degree.”
They walked along in silence for several minutes until they reached another green spot at Eaton Square. He glanced over at her and was glad to see color in her cheeks. “Are you tired?”
“Not at all.”
“How’s your head?”
She smiled, surprise in her eyes. “The headache’s gone.”
“I suppose so. I do get out a little, for Lilah’s walks and a few errands for Lady Haversham, but those are short walks. It’s difficult to find time for a long walk like I used to. But I’d hate to give up my work on the artifacts,” she said quickly.
“I understand.” Of course he did. Aunt Millicent was getting more and more difficult to please. She had always been a demanding woman, but it had not been so apparent when she had had a busy social life. It must be hard for her now to be so limited in her activities. It probably made it inevitable that she took her frustrations out on an easy victim.
“Please don’t feel obliged to find another assistant, Mr. Gallagher. I usually don’t suffer from headaches.”
“You have to promise me you’ll make the time to get out for a walk, even if it means shorter hours in the library.” He held her gaze, not satisfied until he had her assent.
She nodded, her expression serious. “I promise to do my best.”
A smile tugged at his lips. The words didn’t mean total acquiescence. “If that’s all you can do, I’ll have to accept it for now.” In the meantime, he’d have a talk with his aunt. There must be something that could be done. Miss Norton looked far too frail to continue under the strain of two demanding employers.
“All right,” he said, taking her arm in his once again, “let’s get back to work.”
* * *
Reid spent the following days pondering the situation with Miss Norton, and believed he’d come up with a good solution. It only remained to convince his aunt.
A few afternoons later, returning with his aunt from a visit to old friends, he glanced at her in the carriage. The visit had gone well. She was in a good mood.
“Not too tired?” he said.
“A bit. I do want to thank you, Reid, for accompanying me. It has been a good while since I’d been to see Sally Thornton.”
“I’m glad to have been of service.”
“Cecily Mason is still quite attractive, is she not?”