“Are you writing letters?” Tilde opened up her pelisse and withdrew a small notebook and pencil.
Which immediately drew Lady Eloise’s attention. “What’s that?”
“I make it a practice to take note of anything significant when beginning a new post.”
“Am I of signific–singivicence?” She leaned forward in an attempt to see the notebook contents better.
“Oh, absolutely. If you’re writing letters, then that tells me that you can read and write. That’s very important for a teacher to know about her students, wouldn’t you agree?”
Lady Eloise nodded. “But I’m not writing letters.” She admitted with a frown. “I’m drawing pictures.”
“How lovely! I’ve not much talent for drawing, myself. May I look at yours?”
Lady Eloise hopped off her seat and came around the desk with her sketch book. After biting her bottom lip for a few seconds, she tentatively handed it over.
At the front of the book, the drawings were exactly what Tilde would expect of a five-year-old intelligent little girl. A family. Trees. Fish. Dogs. Tilde smiled. “Is this one Peaches?” The legs were short and the body long.
Eloise nodded.
But as Tilde flipped the pages toward the end of the book, a sick feeling settled into the pit of her stomach. “Who is this?” She pointed at a drawing of a woman with pointed teeth and devilish looking eyes. The woman looked as though she were breathing fire toward a little girl with dark hair.
Eloise stared at the floor. “She’s the monster lady who comes in the middle of the night.”
Tilde swallowed hard. “Is she a real person?”
But Lady Eloise did not answer, choosing instead to reach out and take back the journal. “I want to learn how to paint, too. Papa’s mama says we’re too young to learn to paint but Papa said he’d see what he could do. Are you going to teach us to paint, Miss Fortune?”
Tilde, still shaken from the unusual drawing, and from Lady Eloise’s explanation, forced herself to focus on the question at hand. And in that moment, she had no doubt that she’d do whatever was necessary to bring some comfort and security to these children’s lives.
“You see,” Tilde retrieved her own notebook and pencil from the desk. “This is exactly the sort of significant information I must take note of.” And then she read aloud what she was writing, “Lady Eloise wishes to learn to paint. Task. Purchase necessary supplies.”
When she glanced back up, a pleased smile danced on Eloise’s lips.
“Do you have bad dreams too?” She could not help but wonder, realizing that the child had similar dark circles to her father’s beneath her smaller, but equally expressive, gray eyes.
Eloise began to answer but then her gaze flicked behind Tilde at rustling sounds from across the room. Jasper was doing his best to arrange Lady Althea on the settee without waking her.
“What in the world?” Jasper had sat up and was staring at Tilde with confused eyes.
Tilde glanced meaningfully at the clock. “Our appointment, my lord.”
She could see the moment he realized what he’d done. Pitiful man that he was.
He scrubbed one hand down his face and groaned. “I must beg your forgiveness for, what now? The fifth time? And if I’m correct, you’ve yet to grant it for my last two transgressions.”
“Lady Eloise has kept me well occupied.” Tilde sat up straight. He seemed at a loss, so she decided to take matters into her own hands. “If you’ll remember, it was I who requested this meeting. So, might I make a suggestion?”
He blinked his eyes at her and then nodded slowly, reminding her how Eloise had done the same a few minutes before. “Seeing as it was you, indeed, who suggested the meeting… By all means.”
Tilde rose. “If Lady Eloise and you would be so kind as to show me and Peaches to the nursery, I will assist them in their morning routine, and when you have completed your ablutions, you may send for me for our interview.”
Lady Eloise stepped forward, holding Peaches’ leading string in one hand and her drawing book in the other. “You carry Thea, Papa, and I shall be the leader.”
“Excellent idea,” Tilde commended her for her efficient manner of thinking.
“Interview?” Jasper raised his brows. “Did we not dispense with such a need yesterday?”
“On your part, indeed, I believe we did.” She followed Lady Eloise to the large wooden door and then glanced over her shoulder to ascertain that he followed. “It is I who shall be interviewing you.”
* * *
Jasper eased himself into the hot bath Cummings had ordered and groaned. Not only did his head feel as though a horse stepped on it last night, but his stomach heaved at the notion of eating any breakfast. And apparently now he was to be interrogated by his daughters’ new governess.
The temptation to laugh warred with a temptation to send her packing.
He dismissed both and groaned again instead.
“Another nightmare, my lord?” Cummings asked before pouring some heated water over his head.
“Eloise was sitting up with her when I came up to check on them after I got home.”
Cummings tsked. “You know I never involve myself in your personal affairs, my lord, but I don’t like that Crabtree woman the Countess has put in charge of them. She has a cruel look to her.”
Jasper had thought much the same and ignored the worry as being overprotective. Had he wrongly assumed his own mother would not have the girls’ best interest at heart? He could only be grateful that Tilde was here now.
Miss Fortune.
“Their new governess begins today. I cannot say I am not happy for that.”
“Very good, my lord.” Cummings set the soap in Jasper’s hand and then busied himself across the room.
But Jasper wondered something. “Have you ever witnessed Mrs. Crabtree treat the girls inappropriately?”
Cummings brushed at the waistcoat hanging on the dressing room door and sighed. “That’s a difficult question. There are some folks who quite literally believe the biblical directive that by not sparing the rod, they risked spoiling the child. Some who use it as an excuse even… “
Jasper’s heart sank to the pit of his stomach. It would not happen under his own roof. He’d made himself clear to Mrs. Crabtree that she was already on thin ice with him. It made no difference that the woman had been in his mother’s employ for nigh two decades.
Lord Willoughby slid down so as to submerge himself completely in the large tub and did not come up until he could hold his breath no longer.
Thank God Miss Fortune had arrived.
Forty minutes later, feeling more himself and less like something the butler had dragged in from the front step, Jasper sat at his desk awaiting his daughters’ new governess. His heart should not feel lighter as he anticipated her arrival, nor should he find it necessary to smother a rogue fantasy based on how she’d felt in his arms less than forty-eight hours before.
He cleared his throat. Theirs would be a professional relationship from this point forward.
Three short raps signaled her arrival. He had no need to ask who it might be. She was the only one who would knock as though the inhabitant would bid her enter immediately.
“Who is it?” He smiled to himself.
Eyes that appeared more green than brown today peered around the door. Without permission, the rest of her followed. “Did you not send for me?” A frown puckered her forehead.
More alert now, his eyes roved over the drab gray garment she’d been wearing earlier. It was now partially covered by a crisp white apron. With her hair pinned into a low knot at the back of her head, she appeared every inch the strait-laced governess.
A governess of whom his baser instincts urged him to muss up. He’d managed to repair her chignon once; he could do it again.
And then he immediately pushed such inappropriate thoughts from his mind.
“Lord Willoughby.” Her voice already sounded like a reprimand, as t
hough she were reading his mind. Looking adorably studious and serious minded, she opened her notebook and removed a pencil from behind her ear. “I trust you’re feeling more yourself now.”
He nodded, wondering what she’d already written in her tidy little notebook. His pounding head had subsided, and Cummings had assured him that his complexion no longer tinged green.
“Much. And the girls? Have they given you any trouble this morning?”
She scowled. Had he insulted her? “If they had, then I most certainly would not be the governess I expect of myself.”
“Very well…” He began to laugh but then caught himself at her offended expression. And then belatedly, he rose. “Won’t you sit down?” He gestured to the chair across from him.
“Thank you. I will.” Despite all of her bravado, he noticed she avoided his gaze. Which, he admitted to himself, was for the best. They’d made a pact.
The girls needed her.
Miss Fortune tucked a stray hair behind her ear and then cleared her throat. “I always interview the parents of my charges before writing any lesson plans. It’s in everyone’s best interests to establish a greater understanding of one another’s expectations.”
In her element now, she finally met his gaze; unsmiling. So stern and yet she’d already exhibited an abundance of compassion toward his children.
Again, he knew she was the perfect governess for Althea and Eloise. “Sound thinking Miss Fortune.”
She narrowed her eyes at him, and he stared back somberly. After a few interesting moments, in which she had apparently become convinced of his sincerity, she returned her gaze to that notebook of hers and fired off her first question.
“Do your daughters have a favorite toy, and what is it?” She awaited his answer, pencil poised. “These questions may seem frivolous to you,” she explained, “but your answers provide me with vital information.”
About him... It seemed Miss Fortune had a few tricks up her sleeve. He quite approved.
How was it that being grilled by her did not annoy him? She was a governess, for God’s sake!
Contrarily, he found her quite entertaining.
“Eloise has a doll she loves, named Breanne. Althea has a stuffed dog… Eloise tells me the dog has recently been renamed…”
“Peaches.” They spoke together in unison. Green and brown today, he noticed. And hints of blue. Her eyes fascinated him.
Miss Fortune blinked hard and glanced down at her notes again. “In your opinion, can you tell me what Lady Eloise is passionate about?”
Ah, this question was trickier. “In the practical sense, I’d say, her sister. Purely for enjoyment, she loves to draw. And Althea, I wish I knew. She loves flowers though and always wants to pick them for our housekeeper at Warwick Place. She also enjoys assisting Cook with baking. But she doesn’t tell me any of this.”
But Miss Fortune was smiling. Not a dazzling or flirtatious smile, rather a satisfied one. “Not all children are vocal about their interests. What’s important is that you have watched them. You would be surprised…” She pinched those lips of hers together and glanced back down at her notebook.
“What are your girls afraid of?”
He swallowed hard at this one. At times he thought he knew, but he’d been unable to offer the reassurances they seemed to need. “I believe they’re frightened of me leaving them,” he admitted.
Tilde nodded solemnly, writing something down, and then without skipping a beat moved on to the next question.
“What are the nightmares about?”
Jasper bristled at this one. He’d asked Thea every time and she had never given him an answer.
“It kills me. Her shyness.” He clenched his fists. “And it started before Estelle, before my wife, passed on. And as much as I appreciate that Eloise can relay her sister’s words to me, at times I wonder if she’s crippling her.”
“I’ve seen such a phenomenon between twins before, although not quite to this extent. But they are young, Jasper. You’d be surprised how resilient children can be.”
Her use of his name warmed him like a crackling fire at Christmastime.
“She’s watching over Peaches for me right now. Talking up a storm. Showing my dog where all of her toys are and making sure Peaches knows the rules of the house.”
This woman could not know how much of a relief her words brought him. He exhaled loudly.
“Inform me immediately if anyone gives you any trouble at all. Mrs. Crabtree, my mother––anyone. Or if you have need of any particular supplies.”
And for the first time, in her capacity as his employee, she seemed uncertain of herself. She reached into her pocket and removed a piece of paper. When she held it out to him, that same sinking feeling he’d had with Cummings’ comment hit him.
Drawn by a child’s hand, a terrifying woman stood over a dark–haired little girl breathing fire.
“There are others like this, by both of the girls. They both draw. This one is Eloise’s,” she extracted another. “And Althea drew this one for me. Eloise says the lady in the picture is the monster lady.”
“I wondered if she is the woman of Althea’s nightmares. Perhaps she’s told Eloise about them?”
But Jasper was seeing red. It had to be Mrs. Crabtree. He’d warned the woman not to punish his children. He jerked his head. “You will keep me informed?”
The red was disappearing and the blood in his veins turned ice cold.
Miss Fortune reached out to take the drawings back, but he shook his head. “Leave them.”
He was vaguely aware that she closed her book and replaced the pencil behind her ear before standing up.
He’d not protected his daughters. Now they had nightmares and drew pictures of a woman who never should have been left alone with them. Mrs. Crabtree was finished.
“Miss Fortune?” He forced the words from his mouth. “Tilde?”
She’d been making her way toward the door, but his voice halted her.
“Yes?”
“Thank you.”
Her chin dipped and without looking back, she answered. “You’re welcome, Jasper.”
Chapter 11
His Mother
Tilde held the door wide for Peaches to precede her from the nursery into her own chamber and then closed it quietly behind them so as not to awaken the twins.
Nap time was always a welcome respite. Not that the girls were difficult, but it gave her time to plan the next day’s lessons and take care of any personal business. Today, she’d write a letter to her former pupils, sew a new button on one of her gowns, and give Peaches some well needed attention.
All the while doing her best to avoid drumming up errant thoughts about her increasingly handsome employer, who she rarely saw but made numerous appearances in her dreams.
Although Jasper had made it a point to pop into the nursery each morning, Parliament was in full swing and he often didn’t return until late in the evenings. He made the most of his time spent with his girls, however, providing them with his full attention.
While writing in her lesson book on the occasion of one of his morning visits, Tilde had overheard him explaining to the twins that since he’d been voting by proxy over the past few years, he had lots of learning to do. When he’d gone on to explain what proxy meant, Tilde had given up all pretense of her task at hand in order to watch daughters and father interact.
His love for them was obvious, as was all the frustration of being their sole parent. He’d proven on more than one occasion, already, that he wanted to do what was best for his children, but unfortunately, his mother seemed to thwart his efforts at every turn.
Much as she attempted to do with Tilde.
While Jasper was away, his mother dropped all pretense of caring for the well–being of her granddaughters and only took notice of them when an opportunity arose to parade them in front of her afternoon guests––much as she would a favorite toy or pet. She’d insist the girls be dressed and styled immaculate
ly, and always identically, and then have them make their curtseys to her visitors so they could exclaim at the girls’ likeness to one another and try to guess which one was which.
Althea struggled increasingly in her abilities to finish her studies after such meetings and it seemed the girl took one step forward and then fell two steps back.
If only Jasper was not gone so very often, because despite Tilde’s bravado on occasion, Jasper’s mother, for all her evil ways, was the Lady of the house, a countess, a peer. And Tilde only the governess. If Tilde were to lose her position it was not she who would suffer, but Althea and Eloise.
The situation was becoming most untenable. She was going to have to find an opportunity to speak with Jasper about the problem. Although he’d insisted upon hiring her when his mother disapproved, in many things, the befuddled man failed to comprehend the countess’ manipulations.
Lady Willoughby was wily in her subtle ways, indeed. But she could not hide her true nature all of the time.
Tilde trusted her about as far as she could throw her.
Unfortunately, the problem was not an uncomplicated one. With a sigh, Tilde untied her apron and laid it across her bed next to where she’d placed Peaches.
When she’d first arrived, her chamber had housed three small twin beds, three matching short dressers and one austere desk and chair. She was surprised, however, when after taking the girls and Peaches for a walk through the park on her second afternoon there, she returned to find that the furnishings had been completely overhauled. Although adjacent to the nursery, the new canopied bed, desk, vanity and wardrobe seemed more suited for that of an esteemed guest than even the most prominent servant in the household.
Jasper had asked her that evening if she found the new furnishings to her liking and when she’d gone to thank him, he’d cut her off with a satisfied nod. She had the feeling he’d ordered the improvements himself. Lady Willoughby certainly would not have.
It had been a kind gesture, indeed.
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