The Best of Intentions

by Susan Anne Mason

  Virginia’s smile faded. “We could never prepare properly in that short amount of time.”

  “I’m sure if we put our minds to it,” Basil soothed, “we could—”

  “No.” Virginia stepped from under his arm. “I will marry you, but not then. We’ll decide upon a date after our return from Europe.”

  Andrew recognized that inflexible set to Ginny’s jaw. She’d made up her mind, and nothing would sway her now.

  “Now, darling, let’s not be too hasty.”

  Virginia crossed her arms. “My point exactly.”

  Father laid a hand on Basil’s shoulder. “The first thing you need to learn, my boy, is when to back down.” He chuckled. “Let’s all retire to the parlor. I’ll open a bottle of champagne to celebrate.”

  “That’s a wonderful idea.” For the first time in ages, Mother was smiling. Virginia’s upcoming wedding would give her something positive to focus on instead of grieving for Frank.

  Andrew should be relieved. He should be happy.

  Yet as the group crossed the hall into the parlor, he couldn’t ignore the tightening in his gut, the feeling that something was amiss. He looked around and realized Grace was no longer there. In all the uproar, she must have slipped away.

  “Andrew, are you coming?” Cecilia’s irritated voice snapped at his nerve endings.

  He uncurled his fists, warring against the urge to seek Grace out and apologize for his family and Cecilia. After the rude manner in which she’d been treated, he couldn’t blame her for wanting to escape. But to go after her would only cause more strife.

  Reluctantly, he entered the parlor, unsettled to find that the rest of the evening held no appeal at all without her there.

  Grace entered her bedroom and shut the door behind her. Only then did she release a breath from her bursting lungs. Perhaps it was rude to have left without saying good-night, but she couldn’t tolerate another minute of Cecilia Carmichael’s glares across the table. The woman seemed to take an instant dislike to her for some reason. And after Grace blurted out the comment about Andrew’s beard, the woman’s hostility had only increased.

  Would Grace ever learn to hold her rash tongue?

  She turned on the lamp by her bed and allowed the coziness of the room to soothe her shattered nerves. The chintz curtains, the pale pink quilt, and the plush carpet beneath her feet created a haven of comfort. Now that Christian was used to Grace, Virginia had returned to her own room, and Grace had moved into the nanny’s quarters, delighted to find them as charming as the room she’d just vacated. It even had a snug window nook, perfect for reading. Best of all, she was closer to her nephew, able to tend to him during the night if he needed her.

  With a contented sigh, Grace allowed the last traces of tension to seep from her body. She quickly changed out of her good dress—or “frock” as Cecilia had called it—and put on her comfortable brown skirt and a blouse. Then she opened the connecting door to the nursery and went to check on the baby. The glow from the small lamp beside the rocking chair afforded her enough light to see him. Asleep on his back, the child’s perfect features were relaxed in slumber, giving him the look of an angel. She stood staring at the peaceful rise and fall of his tiny chest, then took a seat in the rocker, content just to be near him.

  This was quickly becoming her favorite time of day, sitting vigil in his room for several hours before she went to bed. Sometimes she read, sometimes she knitted. But often she worked on the quilt Rose had started—one of the items Reverend Burke had turned over to Grace after informing her of Rose’s passing.

  Most of Rose’s clothes had been donated to charity, but Grace had been happy to find her sister’s pink shawl among the items the minister had kept. Now draped around her shoulders, Grace envisioned it as a hug from her sister. Alone in the silence of this room, with Rose’s son sleeping beside her, Grace could drop all pretense and simply be an aunt and a grieving sister.

  She opened the wicker basket at her feet and took out one of the squares, admiring Rose’s impeccable stitching. Grace recalled her sister trying to teach her the finer points of sewing and embroidery, but no matter how hard she tried, she could never match Rose’s skill. Still, she would do her best to finish the quilt Rose had been making for her son, certain that one day Christian would be grateful to have it.

  Sometime later, Grace awoke from a light doze with a start. She blinked, trying to focus in the dim room, and was stunned to see Andrew standing by the crib.

  “Andrew. Is anything wrong?” Grace straightened and smoothed a hand over her hair. Her cheeks heated at his scrutiny. How long had he been watching her sleep?

  “Everything’s fine. I only wanted to check on Christian before I went to bed.” He put a hand on the rail. “Why are you here? Was he fussing?”

  “Oh no. I just enjoy sitting here before I retire.” She stowed the fabric back in the basket and rose.

  Andrew gazed down at the sleeping child, and a tender smile crept across his features. “When he’s asleep like this, I can see a strong resemblance to my brother. Frank would have been so proud.”

  Grace moved closer. “I’m sure he would have.”

  They stood in silence for a few moments. The faint glow of the lamp cocooned them in the cozy space. Grace could almost imagine they were Christian’s parents, looking in on their child, and her heart gave a tiny lurch. This was how she’d envisioned her future. With a man who took an interest in his child, who wanted to be home every night to tuck him in with a story or a lullaby.

  Andrew turned to her. “Why did you disappear after dinner? I thought you’d want to celebrate Virginia’s good news.”

  “It was a family celebration. I’m far more comfortable up here where I belong.” She reached to tuck the blanket around the baby’s legs, and her arm brushed Andrew’s. An odd tingle of awareness rushed through her.

  “Virginia doesn’t view you as merely an employee. She considers you a friend. She would have loved you to be there.”

  Grace’s throat tightened. She too was starting to consider Virginia a friend, but certain boundaries should not be crossed.

  “It was Cecilia, wasn’t it? I know she made you feel uncomfortable and for that I’m sorry.”

  “No apology needed.”

  “She’s sometimes too opinionated, but underneath, she has a good heart.”

  “I’m sure she must, or you wouldn’t be considering marrying her.”

  He flinched. “Did Virginia tell you that?”

  “It appears to be common knowledge among the household.” She forced herself to stare into the blueness of his eyes.

  A frown creased his brow. “Marriage is what both our families want, but for now, we’re taking our time to see if we’re a good fit.”

  Cecilia Carmichael seemed the last person who would fit with Andrew. Where he was steadfast and kind, she appeared superficial and shallow. Grace couldn’t imagine him being saddled with such a wife. The urge to say something burned through her, and though she knew she should hold her tongue, she couldn’t stay silent. “For what it’s worth, I believe if someone truly cares about you, they shouldn’t want to change you.”

  A muscle tensed along his jaw. Had she offended him with her directness?

  Andrew ran a hand over his beard. “I’ve learned it’s best to ignore some of what Cecilia says and things usually blow over.” He turned his intense gaze on her. “By the way, I wanted to thank you for your support earlier. It took courage to speak up that way.”

  Heat flashed up her neck. “I tend to say what’s on my mind, often to my own detriment. I hope I didn’t cause any problems for you.”

  “Don’t worry. I can handle Cecilia. And my father.”

  She moved to retrieve her shawl from the rocking chair. “Well, I should turn in.”

  “Before you go, there’s something I’ve been meaning to discuss with you.” Andrew stepped toward her, and the clean scent of his soap met her nose. “You’re free to take Sundays as a day
off each week. Virginia and I will take care of Christian on those days.”

  “Thank you. I’ve been meaning to ask about that.”

  “If you’d like to attend church, you’re welcome to join our family at the cathedral. The architecture alone will take your breath away.”

  Somehow she couldn’t picture Mr. Easton welcoming her in their family pew. “I would love to see the cathedral one day, but I’ve promised my former landlady I’d spend Sundays with her when I can. She brought me to her church when I first came here.”

  “Which one is that?”

  “Holy Trinity. Not as grand as your cathedral I’m sure, but the parishioners were very welcoming. Quite a few people from Britain attend there.”

  He smiled. “I’m glad you’ve found somewhere you feel comfortable. Now I will go and let you get your rest. Good-night, Grace.” He started toward the door.

  “Andrew?” An inexplicable force urged her to prolong their connection for even a few more seconds. Did he feel it too?

  He turned back. “Yes?”

  “For the record, I don’t think your glasses are stodgy. I think they make you look rather distinguished.”

  The intensity of his stare bore through her. “You’re the first person to say that. I’ve always felt self-conscious wearing them.”

  “You shouldn’t.”

  “Thank you. I’ll try to remember that.” His gaze locked with hers.

  It seemed to hold her in place like a magnet until she couldn’t catch her breath.

  “Good-night, Andrew,” she said at last.

  Before he could respond, she slipped through the connecting door to her room and closed it behind her with a soft click.

  CHAPTER 12

  August 25, 1914

  Dear Grace,

  Remember when we used to plan our weddings? How we promised to be each other’s maid of honor? Well, please don’t hate me, but . . . Frank and I got married! Frank begged me to elope with him before he went away to war. He said he needed to know I’d be here when he returned and not run off with the first available bloke. To be honest, I couldn’t bear for him to go without us being married. Now we’re husband and wife and nothing can change that. I only wish Frank’s parents had come around. Don’t they realize what they’re doing to their son?

  On Saturday afternoon, Grace prepared Christian for their daily walk. Due to the threat of rain, she decided to stick closer to home. Virginia wouldn’t be joining them since she had plans with her new fiancé. Grace tried to be happy for her, but something about Virginia’s lack of enthusiasm unsettled her. Surely a woman in love should be glowing with happiness, her head in the clouds. But Virginia appeared strangely subdued, as though the light had gone out of her. As soon as Grace had the chance, she planned to talk to her friend about it.

  Grace tied Christian’s bonnet under his chin. “There’s my big boy,” she crooned as she picked him up. “Are you ready for your walk?”

  Christian’s answering smile told her he agreed wholeheartedly. The boy loved being outdoors.

  She carried him down the back staircase to the side entrance where the pram was stored. The house seemed eerily silent today. Likely Andrew and his father had gone into the office. Saturdays were not always a day off for those two. Since Virginia had gone out with Basil, perhaps Mrs. Easton was catching up with some of her friends.

  Grace placed Christian inside the pram and released the brake.

  “How about we explore your grandmother’s garden today? I’d like a better look at all those lovely flowers.” She aimed the pram onto the path that led around the property.

  They passed the greenhouse, where she imagined Collin Lafferty would be hard at work. Or perhaps, despite the threat of rain, he would be tending the outdoor plants on this warm June day. She circled the perimeter of the property to the rear of the house where the magnificent sunroom dominated the setting. The solarium had apparently been added at Mrs. Easton’s request. In the winter, she loved to sit there and enjoy the sunshine, as well as the many indoor plants that mirrored the ones outside.

  Grace headed toward the center of the fabulous gardens, eager to find the stone fountain. She’d caught a glimpse of it the other day and wanted to take a closer look. It didn’t take long to locate the elegant statue of a lady swathed in flowing robes. From the middle of the fountain, she stretched one hand toward the sky. Her other arm held an urn tipped toward the ground where a stream of water poured out into the pool below.

  “She’s breathtaking,” Grace whispered, marveling at the artist’s talent. One could almost feel the soft flow of her garment, the gentle fall of her hair.

  The fountain was surrounded by a low stone seating area, but Grace wasn’t ready to rest just yet. She continued through the rows of flowering greenery until she came to the small orchard and a vegetable garden that she knew kept the house supplied with fresh produce. In the far south corner of the property, a gleaming white gazebo created another inviting space to relax. But she would explore that area another day.

  Grace stopped the pram near an array of flourishing rosebushes. Blossoms in yellow, pink, and red filled the air with the most glorious scents. She lifted the baby from the carriage and held him up to share the beauty.

  “Do you like roses, Christian? They’re one of my favorite flowers.”

  “Ah, but don’t forget to beware of the thorns.”

  Grace whirled around to see the chauffeur standing behind her. “Mr. McDonald. You startled me.”

  “It’s Toby, please.” He plucked a bloom from the bush beside her and held it out to her. “A beautiful flower for a beautiful lady.”

  Heat rose in Grace’s cheeks as she accepted the blossom. “That’s kind of you, but I am far from beautiful.” She fingered the velvet petals.

  “On the contrary. Your beauty has been the topic of much discussion among the staff.”

  “Then you all must be sadly lacking in conversation topics.” She ducked her head, anxious to get away from this uncomfortable sensation. Flirting with the chauffeur would not earn her any favor with the Eastons.

  Toby must have sensed her unease for he quickly changed the subject. He pointed to the boy in her arms. “How is Master Christian faring today?”

  “He is doing very well under the circumstances.”

  A shadow chased the humor from Toby’s face. “Such a sad tale. I guess we have to be thankful the boy had family willing to take him in.” He swept a hand toward the house in the distance. “He’ll certainly never want for anything living here.”

  She bristled. “Except for the love of his parents.”

  “Yes, of course. I didn’t mean to minimize the tragedy.” He cleared his throat. “And how are you settling in, Miss Foley?”

  She almost corrected him to use her given name, but figured it might be better to keep a professional distance. She didn’t want him to think she was interested in a personal relationship of any kind. “Quite nicely, thank you. How could I not in such a beautiful home?” She smiled, trying to keep the conversation light. “But more importantly, I get to care for this darling boy.” She kissed Christian’s cheek and was delighted when he giggled. “Well, if you’ll excuse us, we should continue with our walk.” She set Christian back in the pram.

  “Don’t stray too far. Those clouds look ready to let loose any second.”

  “I won’t. Good day, Mr. McDonald.”

  He tipped his cap with a smile.

  Grace’s muscles began to relax as she headed toward the house. Even as the first drops of rain landed on her cheek, she couldn’t resist the chance to check out the terrace that surrounded the sunroom. She left the pram in a covered area at the side of the house, lifted Christian out, and climbed the stairs to the verandah. The view from the rail overlooking the gardens was magnificent. She wished her mother could see this. Mum would never believe how far she’d come from their country cottage.

  She turned and peered in the window of the solarium, expecting to find it e
mpty. Yet amid the plants and wicker furniture, Mrs. Easton sat slumped in a chair, her face in her hands.

  Grace took a closer look and alarm swept through her. She appeared to be weeping. Had the woman received some bad news? From various comments she’d overheard among the staff, Grace had determined that Mrs. Easton’s health was quite fragile. Perhaps she should go in and make sure she was all right.

  The rain had started coming down harder. Grace rushed to the side entrance, and once inside, she dabbed the moisture from her face and Christian’s and turned down a hallway that she hoped would lead to the solarium.

  “Let’s pay your grandmother a visit.” If anything could brighten the woman’s spirits, it would be her adorable grandson.

  Still unsure of the house’s layout, Grace ventured through what she remembered to be the main sitting room and found an opening to the solarium. She entered quietly so as not to startle the woman.

  The soft sound of weeping echoed in the space.

  Grace hesitated. Maybe Mrs. Easton wouldn’t thank her for intruding on her private grief. After all, she hadn’t been overly friendly to her, perhaps out of loyalty to her husband, or perhaps because she felt a similar loathing for immigrants.

  Still, Grace would feel terrible if she didn’t try to help.

  “Mrs. Easton? Is there anything I can do for you?”

  The woman’s head jerked up. “Miss Foley. What are you doing here?”

  Grace moved farther into the room. The soothing smell of damp soil and flowers filled the air.

  “I was walking with Christian in the garden and it started to rain. When I returned to the house, I couldn’t help noticing you in here alone. I thought a visit from your grandson might be nice, since our outing got cut short.”

  Mrs. Easton blew her nose in a handkerchief, then motioned her in. “That was very thoughtful. Thank you.”

  Grace took a seat beside her with Christian on her lap. She bounced her knee until the boy giggled.