Mouse leaped up to touch his muzzle with her nose. Then she sat on her haunches, tongue lolling, the picture of canine friendliness. Still and calm, Bridget remained at the front of his stall, looking down at the deerhound with interest.
“He likes her,” Irene realized. “He likes being with other animals.”
“Other animals that aren’t horses,” Jonah replied. “Which are his competition. It makes sense, now that I see it.”
“What dog is this?” Sir William asked. “And who is Eli?”
“This dog is Mouse,” Irene said. “She’s a deerhound I rescued. And Eli’s a child. A little girl, actually. An orphan.”
“You might call her part of the clutter we’ve gathered around the house,” Jonah said ruthlessly to Sir William.
The baronet looked baleful. “I doubt I would call her that.” He hesitated. “Does she work at the house now? Ought I to meet her?”
Irene scratched Mouse’s furry head. “You could, but I’m about to take her to the academy where I work. She isn’t a good fit here, so she’s going to work there instead.”
“Dogs and relatives and orphans, and I don’t even know who they all are before they get yanked from my household.” Sir William lifted his hands, a frustrated gesture. “Am I not to be consulted at all?”
“We’re trying to make matters easier—” Irene began, but Jonah shook his head to cut her off.
“Father. You’re angry about everything because some of your horses died and some of your horses didn’t win their races. And you’ve come all the way to London to yell at me and find your natural daughter, and you don’t know where the girl is.”
Sir William opened his mouth, then frowned, thought for a moment, and miraculously granted that Jonah was right. “So what are you going to do about it?”
Another deep breath. Irene was looking at him with a slight smile—go on, then—and some of the tension ebbed from his shoulders. “I’ve hired a Bow Street Runner to find the girl’s mother. Anne Jones.”
“I’ve hired one before. Anne Jones is better at disappearing than a sorceress. Has your Runner found anything?”
“Well, no. Not yet.” Sir William knew about the picture Rosalind had drawn. He did not know about Mrs. Brodie, or Irene’s suspicions. But Jonah had promised not to say anything, so he said nothing else.
Irene cleared her throat. “I might be able to help.”
Jonah eyed her in some surprise. Are you sure?
She gave him a little nod, then said to Sir William, “Give me a day. Don’t ask me how, but I think I can convince Anne Jones to meet you.”
***
By the time Irene finally found Eli—in the kitchen, of all unlikely places—she had encountered Laurie, promised to take him along for a drive, found her mother and received permission for Jonah to teach Laurie to handle the reins, and crossed paths with her father.
She’d turned on her heel and fled when she saw Victor. She wasn’t proud of it, but so she’d done.
All she was trying to do was take Eli on a short carriage ride to the academy, and now half the household was involved. Plus, she’d promised to talk to Mrs. Brodie.
She shook off her growing feeling of tension. Why should she worry? All the time, she managed much more difficult missions than the conversation she’d have with Mrs. Brodie.
It wasn’t until she saw Eli sitting on the servants’ table, kicking her little bare feet and chattering with Bright, that Irene realized what she was really worried about.
She didn’t want to take this little girl away from the house. Because this was where she’d told Eli to come, to be safe, and now it was time to prove herself wrong.
“I like your talking,” Eli was saying to Bright as he cleaned silver tableware. “It sounds like dancing in my ears.”
The young butler blushed crimson enough to hide his freckles. “Go on, then. I’m trying to change it.”
“I know a teacher who can imitate any accent imaginable,” Irene said, thinking of the Frenchwoman at the academy. Valérie Gagne could teach a fishwife to sound like a duchess. “If you really want to change the way you speak, she’ll take you on as a private student.”
Bright looked undecided.
“She’s very pretty,” Irene added innocently, and the young butler went, if possible, even redder.
Irene hopped Eli down from the table then and led the little girl to the bathing chamber. “A quick scrub,” she said, “and clean clothing, and I’ll take you to a place I think you’ll like.”
She was trying to break the news gently, but Eli immediately went stiff as a poker. “No. I’m not going anywhere.” The child rooted herself, stiff-limbed, to the floor of the bathing chamber.
And Irene’s heart broke, just a little. A child wouldn’t react this way unless she’d been taken to terrible places.
She wet a cloth, wiping the stable dust off the child’s limbs. “It’s a nice place. A school with lots of helpers. It will be better for you than the kitchen here, or even the stables.”
Eli shook her head, hair in a wild fluff. “I’ll be good! I won’t break any more dishes! Probably.”
“It’s not about good or bad, Eli. You are fine just the way you are. We want you to be in a place where you feel safe and happy.”
“I do here!”
“My dear.” Irene smiled. “I hope you feel safe here, but I think you could be happier. I know you don’t like the kitchen here.”
“I can help with the horses! I know how to clean Jake’s hooves now. I’m good at it.”
“You are good at it,” Irene replied gravely. “And if you want to learn more about horses, you can do that.”
Little fingers grabbed Irene’s sleeve. “I want to be with you!”
“Well, you will be. Sometimes.”
“I will?”
“Yes, the school I’ll take you to is the academy where I teach. I live there too, most of the time. It’s a school just for girls, and almost everyone who works there is a girl. And any way you want to be a girl, you can be, and you’ll be safe.”
Eli looked puzzled. “Why do you live there and Mr. Chandler lives here if you’re married?”
Since this question had no simple answer, Irene said, “We think it best. Now let’s comb out your hair.”
She didn’t think it best, but she didn’t really know what she thought. Trying to blank her mind, she drew a wide-toothed comb through Eli’s short, tangled locks. Just this had Susanna done for Irene the night before; just this must Eli’s mother have done for her daughter before her death.
I miss the chance to kiss our firstborn child on the forehead. For a moment, Irene squeezed her eyes shut. Remembering the night before, trying not to remember. There wasn’t time to answer unanswerable questions or make up for years of lost moments. Not now. Not yet.
“Mrs. Chandler?” Eli asked softly.
Irene forced a smile to her lips. Opened her eyes. “Going to the academy is just an idea Mr. Chandler and I had, but you don’t have to stay there,” she explained as she continued combing the child’s black locks. “It’s good to try different things. You might not always want to do the things you like now.”
“I know.”
“You do?”
“Sure. Laurie told me. He said he used to like other stuff, but now he likes horses and carriages. And he’s going away to school.”
“That’s true. He’s planning to try something new. Just like you.”
Why did Irene feel like she was abandoning the child? Eli would be under her eye better than ever at Mrs. Brodie’s Academy. But would she really be happier? Horses and hooves and dirt and straw were what she liked. “Eli, if you want to work with horses on Mr. Chandler’s stud farm—”
“What’s a stud farm?”
“A farm just for horses to be born and grow up and be trained. Mr. Chandler’s is near Newmarket. Do you know where that is?” At the little girl’s headshake, Irene explained, “It’s a day or two away by carriage. It’s a bea
utiful place with lots of land and lots of animals. There’s always work to do, but it’s nice, because you can tell right away that you helped.”
“You like it there,” Eli observed. “Why don’t you live there?”
Another unanswerable question—though, in truth, Irene had never thought of the stud farm as a place to live. When she and Jonah had been courting, it was the place where her beau had passed his days when he wasn’t with her. It was as foreign and beautiful and unlikely as one of those ancient buildings on the Continent. She could as soon live at the stud farm as in the Colosseum or the Parthenon. In those dead old buildings, there would be just as much scope for her work as at the stud farm.
Maybe. She owed it to Jonah to learn more about teaching horses. Helping horses.
“I do like it there,” Irene realized. “But I’m a teacher, and my work is here in London.”
She set aside the comb, neatened the girl’s tunic—and a little hand clutched for hers. “I want to go where you go.” Wide eyes beseeched her, and Irene realized this child had been abandoned by everyone she loved, and Irene reminded her of her lost mother.
She kissed Eli on the forehead, heart squeezing at the gesture. “Then you shall. At the academy, I’ll come see you every day. And anytime you need me, you can tell a servant and they’ll come get me as soon as my class is done.”
He was the horse that needed to be bought, she’d heard Jonah say of Bridget’s Brown as she’d hovered, uncertain of whether to interrupt the conversation between father and son. Well, this was the girl who needed Irene. So Irene would be there for her.
“Come on, then. You look positively tidy,” she told the little girl. “The servants at the academy will love meeting you.”
“Because I look tidy?”
“Because you’re you. The tidiness just means you’ll be ready for whatever comes your way.”
Whatever comes my way, I am equal to the task. I know that I am never alone, because my teachers and sisters will always watch out for me as I watch out for them.
How many times had Irene recited the motto of Mrs. Brodie’s Academy? How many others had she watched out for?
She’d always had more trouble with the part about others watching out for her. It sounded horrid, to place the responsibility of her well-being in someone else’s hands. What if those hands were too harsh, or even too gentle? What if they held her in a cage? What if they dropped her?
But what if they didn’t?
She took Eli’s hand, and together they made their way to the foyer to meet Jonah and Laurie. The pressure of Eli’s fingers in hers felt just right. When Jonah took Irene’s free hand in his own, that felt right too.
Chapter Fifteen
While they waited for Irene to emerge from Mrs. Brodie’s Academy, Jonah handed the reins to Laurie. He yielded the driver’s seat of the landau to the boy, standing at the head of the team.
“The bays are well trained,” he said. “They won’t run off. But they might pull at their bits. If they do, hold firm.”
The youth placed his hands carefully on the reins, jaw set with concentration. A pair of horses and a heavy landau weren’t ideal for their first driving lesson, but only the landau fit the four people on this errand. The carriage that had so fascinated Laurie since their first meeting was glossy black, with yellow doors and matching wheels. Two seats faced each other behind the driver’s perch, and flexible covers were folded back to give the passengers a fine view of the city, and vice versa. The day was sunny, and Londoners accustomed to rainclouds and fog soaked up every bit of golden light when it appeared.
Laurie had seated himself on the squabs behind Jonah, twisting and craning to ask questions as Jonah drove. Now, with his hands on the reins, the boy seemed more nervous than excited.
“Am I doing all right?” Laurie’s voice cracked.
“Just fine. You’ve a nice steady grip. They can play a bit, but they need to stand in place until you allow them to walk.”
The matched bays, Commonwealth and Scintilla, eyed each other. A longtime team, they seemed to exist in their own world. One bobbed a head, then the other did. One twitched his tail, then the other did. They could have played their matching game for minutes on end.
Jonah showed Laurie how to give the command to walk, then to halt the team again. A few steps at a time, the boy moved the team up Manchester Street, smile growing by the minute. He liked to watch the world go by, Jonah realized. But he didn’t want only that. He wanted to be a part of making it go.
When Irene exited the academy, Jonah left Laurie for the moment and walked to meet his wife outside the gates. “All good with Eli?”
She blinked shining eyes as they strolled to the carriage. “Good enough. She’s to help with Mrs. Brodie’s horse and learn about other jobs. She made friends with the stable cat and three first-year students in the time we were there.”
“Resourceful little lass.” Jonah handed Irene into the landau’s forward-facing seat. “You’ll miss her. I see those wet eyes.”
“I will. I feel I ought to have taken care of her myself, but…she’ll be all right. And I’ll see her every day.”
“Every day?” Jonah kept his expression bland even as his heart paused. “No question you’ll be leaving the academy?”
“Every day I’m at the academy,” Irene corrected. “But I told her it would be every day. That’s what she needs to know right now.”
And what of what Jonah needed? What of their marriage? The sun sighed and drifted behind a cloud. A breeze spat in their faces. As Jonah helped Laurie down from the driver’s seat, then took his place, his pleasure in the outing lessened.
“And Mrs. Brodie?” he asked over his shoulder. “She’ll come speak to my father?” He knew Irene understood the unspoken question: Is she Anne Jones, the mother of Sir William’s young daughter?
“She was cagey about that, but I think if the answer was no, she’d have said so. We’ll know for certain if she turns up tomorrow to talk to your father.”
Something to look forward to—or quite the opposite. “I’ll keep you informed,” he said, then clucked to the horses and set them into motion.
“Where are we going?” Laurie’s voice at his back.
“To visit a wainwright,” Jonah replied. “He built this carriage for my father.”
The boy’s excited intake of breath was audible even amidst the noise of the streets. A smile tugged at Jonah’s lips as he directed the playful bays eastward to the Bond Street address of the carriage builder.
It was a short drive, but an interesting one. Jonah saw London and its surroundings differently since his mission with Irene the day before. He noticed the people as much as the animals. He heard the different accents, even the different languages. He observed the different shades of skin, the signs of wealth and poverty in clothing and the way people walked and carried themselves.
He’d had his eyes opened to people different from himself, and he was glad of it—and ashamed that he had not been aware sooner.
When they pulled up before Quigley’s establishment, Jonah handed the reins to an errand boy, then jumped down to aid Irene and Laurie. On a Sunday, the shop was closed, but Quigley had served the Chandlers long enough that Jonah thought they could get a bit of time. He rapped at the window, summoning the carriage maker from his apartment.
After a few minutes, the sturdy man opened the shop door with a smile. “Jonah Chandler! Welcome to you. Is that my work I see out in the street? No problems with the landau, I hope?”
“None at all.” Jonah shook hands with the carriage builder, about a decade his senior. He had the suntan of a man who spent time outdoors in labor, and the rough, scarred hands. “I’ve brought my wife and her brother to meet you. Laurie is interested in carriages himself.”
As Jonah performed the introductions between Irene, Laurie, and Quigley, the man’s smile fell. Then it vanished altogether and was replaced by a frown that struggled not to be seen.
“Well,
now,” said Quigley. “If you’d come another time, I might have a moment. But this is my day off. I can’t spare the time now.”
Odd, that. So he didn’t have time to speak to Laurie on a day off, but would on a workday? “Would you prefer we return tomorrow?”
“I’m very well behaved,” Laurie added. “I won’t break anything.” Thinking of Eli, perhaps.
Quigley stroked at a patchy beard, not quite looking Jonah in the eye. “Well, now,” he said again. “I’m not sure tomorrow would be better.”
“Name the date,” Jonah said. “The boy would greatly benefit from your teaching.”
“Well, now. I’m not sure I have anything to teach the boy.”
“You take apprentices, don’t you?” Jonah pressed. “Is it a matter of needing a fee? I’d be happy to pay for your time.”
“It’s not a matter of a fee, Mr. Chandler. You know I’d do anything for your family—”
“Glad to hear it. Laurie is part of my family.”
Irene was squeezing Jonah’s hand. What was she communicating? He couldn’t sort it out while he was trying to persuade Quigley.
“It’s just…well, now.” Quigley hesitated. “I don’t think we’d be the right pairing, if you take my meaning.”
“We take it, all right,” Irene said. “Come, Laurie.” She slipped her hand from Jonah’s and took her brother’s arm.
“I don’t take it,” Jonah said. “What are you saying? That you won’t teach my brother-in-law because…why? Because he’s black?”
Quigley held up his hands. “I’ve a reputation to uphold.”
“I’m not sure what that reputation is worth if you decline to teach boys who are intelligent and knowledgeable.”
Irene and Laurie were already clambering back into the landau. Jonah felt their absence as a blank, a chill. “We’ll be using a different carriage builder from this time forward,” Jonah said. “Good-bye to you. May your reputation do you much good.”
His Wayward Bride (Romance of the Turf Book 3) Page 16