by Deborah Hale
So Norton had been distracted during dinner, as well? Jasper wondered if it had anything to do with Mrs. Dawson.
Though he did not want to argue with Piers Webster, Jasper was anxious to steer the conversation away from the question of what had preoccupied him and his friend. “If the workers were treated better there would be no need for agitation. Unless something is done to improve conditions, it will only lead to more violence.”
That was another reason he wanted to keep his children as far as possible from the industrial heartland. With workers increasingly desperate, there had been riots and killings, machinery destroyed, mills burned. The government’s response had been to increase repression, banning large gatherings and making it a hanging offense to wreck machinery. In Jasper’s opinion, that was like adding fuel to a boiler then jamming the pressure valve. An explosion was inevitable.
“You may be right,” Mr. Webster conceded with obvious reluctance. “None of your lot were mixed up with that Blanketeers March in the spring, yet you haven’t gone bankrupt.”
This hint of respect for his work made Jasper forget Evangeline Fairfax... at least temporarily. “I do not make as great a profit as some, but I am able to provide a good life for my family. What more can a man ask?”
He appealed to his friend. “We cannot take our money with us when we leave this life, can we, Norton?”
“Indeed not.” Norton Brookes roused from his abstraction enough to quote Scripture. “‘Lay up for yourselves treasures in Heaven, where neither moth nor rust doth corrupt, and where thieves do not break through nor steal. For where your treasure is, there will your heart be also.’”
Jasper thought his friend’s words ended on a wistful note.
“It is hard to argue with that.” Piers Webster leaned back in his chair and laced his fingers over his waistcoat. “Tell me more about your mill, Chase. What changes should I make first if I wanted to try your system?”
“Do away with tokens and reform your truck shop.” Jasper rattled off his answer, eager to take advantage of Webster’s unexpected receptiveness.
A lively conversation followed, with the older man challenging a number of his ideas, while Jasper questioned the old way of doing business. He thought he was making some headway toward persuading his late father-in-law’s partner that his radical ideas had some merit after all.
“This is fascinating,” Norton Brookes remarked at last in a tone that contradicted his words. “But is it not time we joined the ladies?”
Jasper would have preferred to continue discussing his ideas, but Mr. Webster sprang to his feet. “Quite right, Vicar. We should not keep the fair ones waiting.”
The three men exchanged a few more words about business as they headed to the drawing room.
“You must tell Margaret about this system of yours.” Mr. Webster glanced around the room where some of the ladies were chatting.
There was no sign of Miss Webster among them. Her father asked Mrs. Thorpe her whereabouts and was directed to a screened alcove. Gesturing for Jasper to accompany him, Mr. Webster strode toward it and found his daughter tracing a shade of Verity Dawson.
Margaret Webster cast her father and Jasper a teasing grin. “So you gentlemen have decided to grace us with your presence at last.” She held up her work for their inspection—a tracing of Mrs. Dawson’s profile. It had been cast on a sheet of paper by a special lamp. “It is a fine likeness, don’t you think? Verity has such a lovely, delicate profile. Now I only need to transfer it to black paper and cut it out.”
“You made a fine job of it.” Her father thrust Jasper forward. “Now you must trace one of our host. His profile may not be delicate, but I reckon it is handsome enough.”
Mrs. Dawson wasted no time taking his hint. She offered Miss Webster a few breathless words of thanks then fled the alcove.
“Papa,” Margaret Webster protested, “you should not order everyone around to suit yourself. Mr. Chase might find it tiresome to sit still so long. He might rather enjoy more of Miss Anstruther’s conversation. He seemed quite engrossed by it at dinner.”
The lady was amusing herself at his expense. Jasper wondered if that might be a sign of romantic interest.
He chuckled to let her know her irony had not escaped him. “I have held a monopoly on Miss Anstruther’s conversation long enough for one evening. As I am sure your father can tell you, a little healthy competition is better for business.”
Miss Webster laughed. “Then this party must be thriving, for there is plenty of competition for your attention, sir.”
Her father looked pleased with them both. “You young people seem to be getting on well. Sit down, my boy, and let Margaret trace your shade. She is a dab hand at anything artistic.”
Jasper did as he was bid. “I’d be grateful if you would, Miss Webster. My children might like a profile of me to hang in their nursery. Would you be kind enough to oblige me for their sakes?”
“Certainly.” She hung a fresh sheet of paper on the easel and picked up her sketching pencil. “Now look that way and try to keep as still as you can. I will try not to take too long.”
“Don’t rush,” her father advised. “Make a good job of it. Now I must excuse myself. Mrs. Thorpe wants me to make up a foursome at the card table.”
After he hurried away, his daughter set to work. “Don’t mind Papa, Mr. Chase. He is the best of men, but no more subtle than a brickbat.”
Was that why Miss Webster had seemed uncomfortable around him, Jasper wondered, because she was embarrassed by her father’s blatant efforts to push them together? He could hardly blame her for not wanting to appear ridiculous.
“Subtlety is not always a virtue.” He tried not to move his mouth too much as he spoke. “When people make themselves plain, you know where you stand.”
Miss Webster’s pencil scratched softly against the paper. “It was plain to me that you had something on your mind at dinner and it was not Miss Anstruther’s conversation.”
It took a great deal of willpower for Jasper to keep from turning to look at the lady. Though she had not asked in so many words what preoccupied him, there could be no mistaking her curiosity. While he shrank from telling her about his disagreement with his children’s governess, he fancied he could hear Evangeline Fairfax urging him to talk about himself with Miss Webster.
“You are very perceptive,” he replied, continuing to stare straight ahead. “In fact, there was something troubling me. My children want to come and live in Manchester. What do you think of that?”
“Manchester?” Her tone crackled with scorn. “Why would they want to live there?”
Until that moment, Margaret Webster had been only the least objectionable of the ladies selected by Miss Fairfax as a possible match for him. Now he’d discovered something important they might have in common.
“You do not like the city?” He tried not to influence her by betraying his own opinion.
“Why would I?” Her pencil sounded louder as it moved over the paper. “So crowded and grimy and the smell! Your children are fortunate to have such a lovely home in the country. The only town I would care to live in is Bath. I visit there as often as I can.”
The tightness in Jasper’s shoulders eased. How pleasant it was to converse with someone who agreed with him. He knew he should take advantage of this time with Miss Webster while they were almost alone. What would his resident matchmaker advise him to do?
“I have never had the pleasure of visiting Bath.” He darted a sidelong glance at her. “Can I prevail upon you to tell me about it? What makes it such a superior place?”
“I shall be glad to,” she replied. “The only difficulty will be in deciding where to begin. I admire its history and its elegance...”
As the lady warmed to her subject, Jasper congratulated himself on making some real progress with her. In spite of his earlier quarrel with Evangeline Fairfax, he looked forward to giving her a full report.
Chapter Ten
THE BI
RDS OUTSIDE her window woke Evangeline the next morning with their joyful singing. She wished they would all fly away and let her sleep, for she had gotten little rest in the previous hours. Hard as she’d tried to put her argument with Jasper Chase out of her mind, bits of it had run through her thoughts over and over, making her head ache and her stomach churn.
Her employer had made no further mention of her leaving Amberwood. Then again, he’d had little opportunity with the children always present. He must know as well as she how they would react to such an announcement. She resented his attempt to intimidate her that way. It reminded her of how the Pendergast teachers had made her and Leah obey by threatening to punish their more sensitive friends.
The tactic had worked in both cases. In their later years at school, she and Leah had been less overtly rebellious. After her interview with Mr. Chase, Evangeline had warned his children not to mention going to Manchester until their father got used to the idea. Though, after the way he’d reacted, she doubted he would ever get used to it.
Perhaps it was just as well they’d had this falling-out, Evangeline reflected as she dragged herself out of bed to face the day. Lately she had become too close to him for her peace of mind. She’d begun to question whether someone else might do just as well at founding a new charity school, while the Chase family might find her impossible to replace.
It would not be the first time her liking for a strong-willed man had tempted her to abandon her plans for the future. Fortunately she had come to her senses when Mr. Preston tried to remake her into his ideal of the perfect submissive wife, as she was coming to them now. Her teachers had been wrong about a great many things, but they had been right to warn her that she would only secure a husband by curbing her strong will. Men like Jasper Chase would always insist on having their way, even when their way was wrong and hers was right!
With that thought, Evangeline stabbed the last pin deep into her hair and marched out of the room as quietly as she could manage. Only consideration for her sleeping pupils kept her from slamming the door of her bedchamber behind her.
The sight of Jasper Chase sitting at the nursery table made her jump back with a barely stifled shriek stuck in her throat.
“What has you so nervous this morning?” he demanded in a gruff whisper. “Have you been reading Gothic novels before bed?”
Evangeline was inclined to view the question as a deliberate insult until she recalled that his late wife had enjoyed reading such books. Besides, he was pouring her coffee—a service for which she was willing to forgive a great deal.
“I did not expect to see you here this morning.” She marshaled her dignity as much as possible after her foolish fright.
Mr. Chase appeared puzzled for a moment and then surprised. “You mean because of our talk yesterday? I thought the issue was resolved in a most satisfactory manner.”
As she took a seat opposite him, Evangeline gave a derisive sniff. “Satisfactory for you perhaps. I do not respond well to being bullied, especially when the harm is threatened to others.”
She would have said more, but the rich aroma of the coffee was impossible to resist. She settled for fixing her employer with a fierce scowl as she lifted the cup to her lips.
“Bullied?” he sputtered, clearly hard-pressed to keep his voice down. “Threatened? I did no such thing.”
Evangeline’s brows flew up. “Then what did you mean by saying I must leave Amberwood at once if I did not discourage the children from asking to go live with you in Manchester? Was it a jest, perhaps, that I misunderstood?”
Though his unexpected presence had given her a turn and they were arguing again, Evangeline found herself strangely pleased to be in his company again. They might not always agree, but at least Jasper Chase treated her like a person worthy of his confidence.
“It was not a jest,” he muttered. At first, Evangeline assumed he was cross with her. But the more he spoke, the more she sensed he might be angry with himself. “But it was not altogether in earnest, either. It was certainly never meant as a threat. I only wanted to impress upon you the depth of my feelings in the matter.”
“You certainly did that.” She wanted to stay vexed with him but it was not easy. Perhaps she had been more forceful than necessary in her arguments. And perhaps she ought to have consulted him before encouraging Owen’s idea of going to Manchester.
“I suppose you often received threats at that wretched school you attended.” Jasper Chase bent forward to sip his coffee. Somehow it looked like a bow of contrition.
Evangeline nodded. “When the teachers discovered some of us could not be cowed by ridicule, deprivations or the switch, they resorted to punishing our innocent friends for our acts of defiance. That was most effective from their point of view, but I considered it wickedly unjust.”
Her employer’s bold, attractive features darkened and his fingers clenched around the handle of his cup. Evangeline thought she glimpsed a flicker of shame in his blue-gray eyes. “Do you intend to egg my children on about going to Manchester again now that you know I will not dismiss you for it?”
“No.” Even if she had not cared about waking the children, Evangeline could scarcely coax her voice above a whisper. Her conscience chided her as a traitor to the welfare of her pupils. “I still believe I am right, but you are their father and I do not wish to cause strife between you. Especially not with the changes they will soon face.”
“Thank you.” He stretched his hand across the table and for a foolish instant Evangeline thought he meant to clasp hers.
Though caution and propriety warned her not to respond to the compelling invitation, she could not stop her hand from inching toward his.
Fortunately, before it reached him, Mr. Chase motioned toward her cup. “Can I get you more coffee?”
“Yes, please!” She nearly upset the cup in her haste to push it toward him.
If he had noticed her reaching for his hand, Mr. Chase was enough of a gentleman to pretend otherwise. “I know you believe the children should be near me, but I am not alone in my opinion that the city is no place for them. Miss Webster agrees with me.”
Why did his casual remark sear through her in a white-hot flash? By contrast, Evangeline’s reply was so cold she wondered that her breath did not frost the air. “Does she? You discussed the matter with her?”
Jasper Chase nodded. “Last night, after dinner. She noticed my preoccupation and asked the cause. That was kind of her, don’t you think?”
“Very kind.” Evangeline felt as if her face were paralyzed into a bland mask that bore no relation to the emotions churning inside her.
Until now, she had viewed Margaret Webster as a good prospective stepmother for her pupils and a fine wife for their father. If Miss Webster agreed to marry her employer, Evangeline would feel free to leave Amberwood with a clear conscience, knowing the family was in capable, affectionate hands. But Jasper Chase’s account of his conversation with Miss Webster changed all that.
“We spoke at some length,” he continued, “while she was tracing my shade. An excellent likeness she made of it, too.”
Evangeline gave a nod of feigned interest. All the while, she could not help thinking that tracing the outline of a person’s shadow might take skill and a steady hand but no particular talent. Her friend Rebecca could sketch a portrait that not only captured an accurate likeness of the sitter but a glimpse into their heart and soul as well.
“I told her about the children hankering to go to Manchester,” Jasper Chase went on, oblivious to Evangeline’s reaction. “She said she could not understand why anyone would want to live there when they were fortunate enough to have a place in the country.”
“I see.” Evangeline forced her frozen mouth to work.
He nodded. “I will admit I was skeptical of this matchmaking scheme of yours at first, but I am beginning to see the wisdom of it. My children do need a mother. If they have one, I expect they will be happy to stay at Amberwood with her and give up any notio
n of living in Manchester.”
Would they? Evangeline was not so sure. If Mr. Chase married Miss Webster, the lady would be little more than a congenial stranger to his children. Evangeline was as close to a mother as most of the young Chases had ever known. Yet they still hankered to spend more time with their father, like a true family. Did he believe the children would become so much more attached to Miss Webster than to her that they would no longer miss his regular presence in their lives?
That thought stung. So did the lady’s disagreement with her about where the children should live. At least their father had unselfish reasons for his opinion. Did Miss Webster favor the children remaining in the country because she preferred to live there? Did she seek to curry favor with Mr. Chase by agreeing with him? Or was she one of those women who believed a man’s ideas were always right?
None of those possibilities endeared her to Evangeline. She turned a deaf ear as her employer praised the superiority of Miss Webster’s understanding, but her attention revived when he said, “I think you will be proud of me.”
She was already proud of the life he had fashioned for himself from the humblest beginning and the commitment he had made to improve the lives of others. “Why is that?”
“Because,” he replied, “I followed your advice. I told Miss Webster something about myself and encouraged her to talk about something of interest to her. We had a most satisfactory conversation.”
“I am pleased to hear it.” That falsehood weighed heavy on Evangeline’s tongue.
“I thought you would be.” Jasper Chase looked absurdly like his son Alfie when the boy received her praise. “That is why I came here this morning.”
Evangeline gave a rueful grin. “To boast of your conquest?”
He chuckled as if he believed she had intended to amuse him. “I have not made a conquest of Miss Webster yet. But with more of your excellent lessons, I hope to.”