by Jane Charles
“One month, Mrs. Peade. That is all I’m asking. If all does not go to plan, I shall acquiesce to your request.”
Eve woke to a luxurious chamber of cream and gold and in a bed as soft as a cloud. Above her, the most delicate lace canopy she’d ever seen. Was this really where she was to live for the next two years? It was almost too good to be true.
It was too good to be true and she must determine what game Kilsyth played.
Kilsyth was a very strange gentleman and she’d never met anyone like him. He was very much to the point and didn’t bother to coat any of his words with pleasantness. Perhaps now she understood why he’d been described as a tedious bore, though that was not how she’d describe him. Autocratic was far more fitting.
After a quick knock and before Eve could respond, her chamber door slowly opened and a young maid, dressed in black, white apron and mop cap stepped inside. “Good morning, Miss Doyle.”
“Good morning.”
Following the maid was another who carried a silver tray and tea service.
“You are to enjoy your chocolate then dress for the day before breaking your fast and then join Lord Kilsyth in the library.”
Eve sat up and the maid hurried forward to plump her pillows as the other maid poured chocolate into a cup. Eve’s mouth watered. She couldn’t remember the last time she had enjoyed any chocolate.
“I have no clothing, save the shift I’m now wearing. All that I own was taken from me yesterday.”
Mrs. Peade had taken every single item Eve had brought with her, save the bag that had held her clothing. Even the shift she now wore had been borrowed. After she’d been shown to these grand chambers, Eve had been stripped as a deep tub was filled, then maids scrubbed her from head to toe, even though Eve was quite capable of bathing herself. Then she’d been wrapped in a large towel and set before a fire as the tangles were combed from her hair. Once it was sufficiently dry, the borrowed shift was provided and then she was measured by a Mrs. Halford.
Eve had then been served another meal and given books to read so that she could pass the time. Of course, those lay untouched as her new spectacles hadn’t arrived until the afternoon and she’d dressed in the uniform of one of the maids so that Mr. Carter could see to the perfect pair that Eve needed to read. The remainder of the day was a complete blur because Eve had dozed off shortly after, her eyes too heavy to follow the words on the page. She’d been woken for supper, also served in her room, then she had slept again. Apparently, all through the night since Eve remembered nothing more.
Oh, it did feel good to have gotten decent rest, at the same time as most people were supposed to sleep, instead of during the day when everyone was awake. However, even though she’d been measured yesterday, it wasn’t possible even the simplest of day dresses was ready to be worn.
“Mrs. Halford has already delivered two day gowns.”
Eve’s eyes popped open. “Already?”
“She keeps a number of simple dresses ready to be altered. More will arrive tomorrow and continue until you have all you need.”
How much did she need? Or, how much did Kilsyth believe she needed? Not that it mattered, but she was curious. Eve had become accustomed to having four wool dresses that she used to get by and would be quite happy with four new dresses, but seven, one for each day of the week, would make her quite happy indeed.
Yet, she mustn’t become used to this. Eve needed to learn what Kilsyth wanted from her before she became too comfortable. And, she must get her necklace back. It wasn’t Brendan’s place to take it, then lose it. Hopefully Kilsyth still kept it in his desk and hadn’t move it anywhere else.
If she did find it was necessary to leave, she’d take the necklace and not even look for her brother. He’s the one who had gotten her into this mess—all messes since father died—and if she returned to her brother, who knew what Brendan might do next.
Once again, her door was opened, but this time without anyone knocking first. Not that she was doing anything she shouldn’t, but Eve hoped it wouldn’t always be like this. Was she not to be afforded any privacy in this home?
“Lord Kilsyth is anxious to begin,” Mrs. Peade announced.
“Miss Doyle has not broken her fast,” the first maid informed the housekeeper.
“It will be provided. Now get Miss Doyle prepared for the day and make certain that she’s presentable.”
“I can dress meself.” Eve got out of bed. “I’ve been seein’ to meself for quite some time and am adept at puttin’ meself together.”
“Nonsense,” Mrs. Peade dismissed. “Girls, get her dressed and her hair arranged and be quick about it. Lord Kilsyth does not like to be kept waiting.”
In the blink of an eye, the cup of chocolate was taken from Eve, her shift removed and replaced with a new one before a soft, lavender day dress was pulled over her head. Then she was set before a mirror as a maid brushed her hair and then arranged it simply as someone rolled stockings and slid her feet into slippers.
Goodness they were efficient.
“There you go, Miss Doyle,” Mrs. Peade said. “Don’t make Lord Kilsyth wait.”
They might wish to hurry her, but Eve refused to be rushed so she slowly descended the stairs. She’d not jump each time he demanded and Kilsyth would soon learn that he could not simply push her around upon his whim as if she were nothing but a piece on a chessboard.
Eve paused at the entry to the library. Pickmore relaxed in a chair, a newssheet in one hand and a cup in the other.
Kilsyth sat behind his desk reviewing documents.
“You wished to see me?”
Kilsyth glanced up and smiled. “Come in, Miss Doyle.” He removed the spectacles from the bridge of his nose and stood.
She couldn’t move. It was the first time she’d not seen him stern or frowning. When he smiled, he was actually quite pleasant to look upon. Eve wasn’t certain what changed between yesterday and today, but Kilsyth seemed quite relaxed.
Pickmore came to his feet. “Good morning, Miss Doyle.”
“Good morning.” She nodded.
Kilsyth moved to stand behind his leather chair and rested his hands on the back. “Now, let’s get to know one another, shall we?”
She stepped further into the library and glanced around again, not certain what to do with herself. Did she sit? Stand?
“Will you be needing anything further, Lord Kilsyth?” Mrs. Peade asked from behind Eve.
“That will be all.”
“Very good, sir.” And then she was gone.
What of breaking her fast, or even a cup of tea? Though the chocolate had been quite delicious, Eve had only been able to drink half of the cup before it was taken from her. Then again, she’d eaten more yesterday than she had in nearly the entire week, so she’d survive going hungry for a bit she supposed.
“Please, do have a seat, Miss Doyle,” Pickmore said, still standing.
At least he was a gentleman. Kilsyth certainly hadn’t offered the same.
“Thank you.” She crossed to the dark maroon settee near Pickmore’s brown chair and settled upon it, facing Kilsyth.
“Before we begin, let’s get to know one another, Miss Doyle” Kilsyth began. “I assume you’re proficient in watercolors, needlework, pianoforte, household management, flower arranging and the like.”
Did he really think so little of her, or did he not think a woman capable of anything more, or that her intelligence lacked in some manner?
Then again, if all he was exposed to were misses and debutants, he may believe the female mind filled with nothing but fashion and how to land a titled gentleman. Clearly, he’d not met a miss who was educated as she. But how much did she tell him? She still knew very little about Kilsyth or what her purpose was to be since he wished to teach her.
Yet, it wouldn’t do well to lie and he’d find out later that she had. “I have no talent for paintin’. I am an excellent seamstress and I prefer to create my own needlework designs. I am proficient
at the pianoforte, but I don’t sin’. I have been taught to run a household and have an eye for flower arrangin’.” All of those were things she’d taught herself, with the help of the housekeeper, with the exception of mathematics for managing the household.
“How was it that your sister became a teacher with such basic knowledge?”
Eve bristled. “I answered yer question. Ye did not ask about me education.”
He pulled back in shock. “By all means, what did you learn?”
Oh, his condescension irritated her to no end. “History, sciences, languages, literature, similar to what me brother was taught by his tutor.”
Kelsyth slid an eye to Pickmore as if he didn’t believe her.
“Despite where I’ve been livin’ or how I appeared yesterday, I can assure ye, Lord Kilsyth, I am not an ignorant girl. My interest goes beyond the latest fashion plate.”
“If that is true, what languages did you learn?”
“French, and a bit of Latin.”
He chuckled as if he didn’t believe her, or perhaps he thought Eve only had a rudimentary understanding of the language.
As she straightened her spine, Eve responded in what she knew was perfect French, but translated to, I’m ready to be done with this inquisition. If there is something you wish to teach me, then teach it.
Kilsyth’s eyes widened in surprise and he smiled further, as if she hadn’t just ordered him to do something. Perhaps he was the one who didn’t speak French.
“Yes, well, I see you do speak French.” The he leaned forward. “Not only that, Miss Doyle, but with an accent that would make one believe it was your first language. Not that I could be fooled of course, as I have an ear for dialects, but I don’t believe anyone else would ever guess you were from Ireland, if you spoke only French.”
“As I will not be goin’ around speakin’ French, I don’t see dat it matters none.”
“Oh, on the contrary. It matters very much, Miss Doyle.”
Chapter 5
Wiggons’ School for Elegant Young Ladies,
Cornwall, England
“Must you still read those journals,” Eliza complained to Sophia. “Aren’t you finished with them yet?”
“They only arrived yesterday,” Sophia reminded her friend.
“They can’t be so fascinating,” Eliza whined.
“But they are.” Sophia opened a page. “Look at the drawing of this stone. Mrs. Fairview was able to capture quite a bit of detail.” She flipped the page. “And these are the markings she copied. Don’t you wish to know what it says?”
Eliza grabbed the journal and tossed it aside. “No. I don’t.”
“Be careful with my mother’s journal,” Rosemary chastised as she picked it up and smoothed the pages.
“Those were carved or written centuries ago, how can it possibly relate to us?” Eliza demanded.
“It relates because it’s fascinating. I’d love to know what it says. What message was someone trying to tell?”
“It could be just doodling. An ancient Egyptian didn’t have anything else to occupy their time, so they put silly symbols on a stone.”
Sophia blew out an impatient breath. “I am certain that is not the case.”
“Well, unless you can read hieroglyphics, I suggest you put the book away for the day.”
“It’s not just hieroglyphics, but Greek, and other languages.”
“Another language you can’t read,” Eliza reminded her.
“What do you propose we do?” Sophia demanded. It was Sunday and after attending morning services they were free for the day.
“Oh, I don’t know.” Eliza picked at the trim on her skirt. “Go for a walk, maybe.”
Rosemary jumped up. “Where to?”
Eliza didn’t express the same enthusiasm. “Nobody is interesting anymore. It’s been months since anything exciting happened.”
Which was perfectly fine with Sophia since exciting usually meant dangerous, with Eliza only making it worse.
“Does anyone want to walk down to the beach?” Olivia Westbrook asked as she glided into the chamber, Victoria, her twin behind her.
Olivia and Victoria had been at the school for almost as long as Sophia and her friends but until Christmas, they’d not been friends. That changed when the twins credited the three for saving their lives. Once again Sophia, Rosemary and Eliza had been where they weren’t supposed to be, but they’d also seen the twins taken away by their eldest brother, who turned out to be a traitor, and had alerted their teachers to the danger.
“We aren’t supposed to go near the beach,” Rosemary reminded them.
“We aren’t supposed to go near the water,” Olivia reminded them. “But a group could go to the beach.”
Victoria looked around. “Five is a group.”
Eliza hopped off of the bed. “Well, it’s at least better than staying inside and reading boring journals from Egypt.”
“They aren’t boring,” Rosemary defended. “They are from my mother.”
“You can read them later,” Eliza insisted. “Let’s go explore, maybe we’ll discovery something interesting.”
That was highly doubtful, but Sophia was tired of her friend complaining, so she set the journal aside and joined the others as they made their way to the beach, using the path from the neighboring Harrington Manor where the twins’ other brother now lived.
“I hope the dolphins are playing. They’re so much fun to watch,” Victoria offered.
“Seals may be sunning themselves on rocks too,” Olivia suggested.
“The other day I saw a whale,” Rosemary exclaimed.
It wasn’t unusual to see dolphins or seals, but it was unusual to see a whale and Sophia wished she had seen it too.
“What is Miss Doyle doing down here?” Eliza whispered as they reached the sand.
None of them knew, of course, but one of their newer teachers, Miss Caitlin Doyle, could often be found on the beach, staring out over the water during her free time.
“Girls, what are you doing down here,” Miss Doyle demanded gently.
“We just wanted to walk,” Victoria answered quickly. “We are in a group.”
Miss Doyle smiled. “Yes, you are but stay away from the water.”
“We promise.” Olivia formed an “X” over her heart.
“Miss Doyle, why do you stand here so often?” Eliza asked, a hint of curiosity in her tone.
Oh, Sophia hated it when Eliza was bored and then became curious. Such usually lead to trouble.
“I suppose I come down here because I miss my home, my mother, father, brother and sister. The ocean helps me feel closer to them,” she answered wistfully.
Eliza gave Sophia a puzzling frown.
“When I was younger, we’d picnic on a beach, much like this one. We’d fly kites and play in the surf…” She sighed and though Miss Doyle smiled, there was sadness in her eyes.
“Come along,” Sophia said. “We shouldn’t disturb Miss Doyle. This is her day free of teaching so she should be free of us as well.”
“Where do you think they are,” Eliza asked when the girls were further down the beach. “Her family that is.”
“Maybe too far way to visit.” She glanced back. “She’s looking toward Ireland. Maybe they are still there.” Not that anyone could actually see Ireland, but it was in the direction Miss Doyle faced.
They knew little about her. Less than any other teacher. She had joined the school last fall but other than finding out her first name was Caitlin, that was all she had ever revealed.
Sophia glanced back. Plus, she was very sad.
Mayfair, London
Henry had anticipated a slow process of instruction, though he’d already glimpsed intelligence in that pretty head of Miss Doyle’s, but he never could have dreamed in his wildest imagination that she not only spoke French, but that her education was more of what a young man would receive.
Nor had he anticipated how attractive she’d be once she�
�d been stripped of her rags, given a bath, and clothed in a fashionable day dress. The lavender was quite becoming on her, especially against her creamy skin.
Blast, she was more than simply attractive, she was downright beautiful!
Stop, Henry mentally ordered himself. Miss Doyle was now his ward and it wasn’t appropriate to think of her as beautiful. Any attraction for the young woman must be squelched immediately or the two of them would never get any work done. If there was one thing Henry prided himself on it was the ability to remain focused on any study during any lessons without the least bit of distraction. Therefore, he would not allow Miss Doyle to be that distraction.
Now, what were they discussing?
Oh, yes—her education. “This was an English governess who taught you so well?”
“A progressive governess who had attended a progressive school when she was younger,” she answered.
Exactly how progressive is what he needed to know. “I believe that much is clear. What else did your studies include, or was it simply history and the like?”
“She also taught economics and philosophy. I was especially interested in animal husbandry.”
Henry nearly choked. Such topics were not discussed with misses.
“We had sheep for wool, and the necessary farm animals for food and farmin’.” A small smile pulled at her lips. “In truth, I prefer animals to man, they’re far more acceptin’.”
Well, if she thought to put him in his place, it hadn’t worked because as long as she continued to speak like a common Irish street urchin, she would be judged.
“But, most important, when me father was still alive, our stables were full of Arabian racers and breedin’ stock.
“I say, Kilsyth that reminds me. Will we be attending Ascot this year?” Pickmore asked. “I did miss the races while I was in India.”
“Ascot? Ye attend Ascot?” Miss Doyle asked excitedly.
“No,” Henry answered quickly and sharply. Miss Doyle needed to be discouraged from getting any ideas that they’d be attending any type of societal function.