by Beverley, Jo
Ben liked Perry, but he was a creature from another world -- a world full of fashionable people, where strangers were a novelty to jaded lives, and deformed ones cause for malice.
Mistress Gifford, seated opposite him, softly lit by candle and firelight, should be equally alien, but she didn't feel so.
Ben sank back into his seat, realizing that no woman had ever intruded here before. His mother had died only eight years ago, but she'd always regarded the library as a masculine domain.
Apart from his mother and whores, he'd never been alone with a woman since his nursery days.
"Advice?" he managed. He poured himself more port, and then hesitated. "Would you..?"
She shook her head.
Of course not, you dolt. Ladies don't drink port.
"How may I help you, Mistress Gifford?"
Hands neatly in lap, she said, "You have already helped us so much, sir, but I must confess to you that I have no idea where to go tomorrow. My aunt and uncle here were my only surviving relatives."
"They were connections of your husband's, I assume. I am correct that you are a widow?"
"Sadly, yes, sir. But as for the name, I was born a Gifford and married a distant cousin, also Gifford. He was an orphan without close family. To add to our distress, we are almost penniless. My husband's income was an annuity that died with him." She sighed, and perhaps tears glinted in her eyes. "I'm not expecting you to be able to do magic, Sir Benjamin, but I could not sleep without seeking hope. Might you know of any employment for me? Five children makes finding a position daunting, but I thought you might know of a single lady needing a companion... I would work very hard and make sure the children kept out of my employer's way."
"Daunting is putting it mildly, Mistress Gifford. Why would anyone employ you when there are many ladies without encumbrances seeking such employment?"
She put a hand to her face. "I feared as much. I have no hope!"
Why be so blunt, you idiot?
"Will you tell me a little of your story, ma'am, so I can seek a solution for you?"
She lowered her hand and smiled at him. It was a sad smile, but lovely. Very lovely.
She turned her head to gaze into the fire. It was an exquisitely graceful movement, perhaps because her neck was slender. At her nape, short, dark hairs curled softly. Firelight touched her profile, her full, parted lips....
"If you knew my uncle here," she said, "you may know that my father, his brother, was a curate. I was his only child. We had little money, but we did well enough. Thomas, my husband, came to visit us, and we fell in love. He was a scholar and tutor. His work brought in little income, but we were happy until his recent death. An infection of the lungs."
"My condolences, ma'am."
"Thank you, sir. It was a dreadful blow. And I fear for Anna, who seems to have a weak chest."
He wanted to reach out and take her hand in comfort, but it would be too far a reach in all respects.
"It would be a sorry thing to see you and your children in a workhouse, Mistress Gifford, and the older ones sent out to work."
"A workhouse?" Her eyes widened in new distress.
What a clumsy oaf he was, but facts were facts.
"That must not be!" she protested. "I do accept that my dear ones might have to work instead of continuing their education, but employers who take children from a workhouse often treat them little better than slaves."
"It won't come to that," he promised, aware his promise was rash, but unable to do otherwise. He scrabbled for some other solution. "I've heard of charitable associations set up to assist gentlewomen in distress." For some reason, that didn't soothe her. "If not that, perhaps you could be assisted to set up a business. Yes, a shop. Your children could assist you there."
He was rewarded with a slight smile. "You give me hope, Sir Benjamin. That could be our salvation. We are all willing to work."
She leaned forward, stretching out a grateful hand, which allowed him to stretch to take it. "I will do all in my power, ma'am. And, of course, you and your children must remain here for a little while as I make enquiries."
Her soft hand tightened on his. "You are kind far beyond our desserts."
He squeezed back. Such a simple contact to wreak such havoc in his mind and body. "Nonsense, dear lady. What have any of you done to deserve your situation?"
She rose. He rose, still holding her hand. It brought them closer.
She looked up at him as if he were Saint George and she the princess chained before the dragon. He was astonished again to see no trace of discomfort with his appearance.
He found himself raising their hands to his lips, something he'd never done before. He touched his closed lips to her knuckles, shivering, wishing a miracle would happen that would allow him to press his lips to hers.
He'd never kissed a woman, not even a whore.
Perhaps she sensed the nature of his shameful thoughts, for she drew her hand free and looked away. "I have no words..." she whispered. "My dear, dear Sir Benjamin, good night!"
With that, she fled.
Ben sank back into his chair, head in hands. What a wretch he was! He'd taken that woman under his protection, promised to assist and advise, and then allowed wicked, lewd thoughts into his head.
But oh the wonder of a conversation without any awareness of his deformity. Perhaps it wouldn't be too wrong to converse with her again. The Giffords were to stay for a little while. So recently that would have been an inconvenience, but now it seemed a wonder of the world.
***
Lily hurried upstairs, keeping a sober face in case anyone was watching. Once in the bedroom, however, she grinned with delighted relief.
Now she knew why Sir Benjamin Brook was a recluse, and it was something she could use to save them all. He was deformed. No wonder he'd kept his muffler wrapped around his lower face.
She'd been shocked at first sight, but she'd pushed it away, focusing on beguiling him at all costs. The effect on him had been immediate. Did people always shrink away?
It was an unpleasant deformity, to be sure. It made him look stubborn and even angry. When he pressed his lips together to hide his teeth, he scowled. She could control her reactions, however. She'd found it useful to look into his eyes, and that had had the usual good effect of its own.
As a consequence, she'd achieved her first step. They could stay!
She'd partly achieved her second in that he would try to find a solution for her, something other than the workhouse.
A workhouse.
She'd never thought that they might end up in such a desperate situation.
Her children would never end up in a workhouse, never be sold to cruel employers to be worked to death. Never. Even if she had to steal. Or sell her body on the streets.
She'd do even that for her children, but she knew it would have no good effect in the long term.
She'd gone downstairs planning to charm Sir Benjamin into allowing her to become his housekeeper. Clearly he didn't care about the state of most of his house and didn't have guests to worry about, but surely he wouldn't object to a well-kept house as long as she didn't disturb his comforts.
Mention of the workhouse had slipped the conversation out of her control, however. She'd not had the chance to plant the idea, nor to mention the more serious consequences of neglect, such as moth, damp, and beetle. Her reaching out to him had not been deliberate, but when she'd seen the effect on him, a new, daring hope had flickered.
Might it be possible to marry Sir Benjamin Brook?
He wasn't a user of men. She was sure of that now. He'd been too aware of her as a woman, and too affected by their touch.
Therefore, he probably would like a wife, but had never found a woman not repulsed by his appearance. She was surprised at least one lady hadn't seen the advantages and secured the prize. Perhaps it was his reclusive ways.
She'd seen the prize, however, and taken the first steps.
Once they were holding hands, sh
e'd risen, holding onto him, and stepped closer, bringing their bodies almost to touching. He probably hadn't realized that she, not he, had moved their hands to his lips. She'd been astonished by the way he'd kissed her knuckles -- reverently but fearfully. As if she might snatch free and run.
The poor man. She'd be doing him a favor by her plan. Though the world might not agree, she could be a good wife to Sir Benjamin Brook. She could make his home comfortable, and his bed, too. She'd never flinch from him. She'd make sure her children were no bother to him, and with God's blessing, she'd give him children of his own. He must want an heir.
Yes, it was a benevolent plan. She could make him happy.
She put more wood on the dying fire and took out the cold warming pans. She stripped off her outer clothing and slid under the covers beside her daughters. Charlotte turned to her, and Lily touched her hair.
I'll make it up to you, my darling. You'll see. All will be well.
She must remind her children they were Giffords now, and instruct them not to shrink from Sir Benjamin. She could only hope instruction would work with the littler ones, and if not, that he'd forgive them.
She smiled, however, with the first hope she'd felt in months. If she did this right, her family had a chance at a happy life.
As long as Sir Benjamin Brook never learned the truth about her.
Chapter Three
Lily was woken by little Anna bouncing on her. "Mama, mama. Hungry!"
Lily yawned, regretting the few more hours of sleep she might have had. No light came in around the curtains, and the room was dark and cold. She drew her daughter down under the covers beside her and kissed her cheek, delighted by her return to spirits.
"Stay under the covers, sweeting, and I'll find breakfast for us as soon as I can. First we need a fire."
She climbed out of bed, shivering in the icy air, and hastily dressed in as many layers of clothing as she could find. Time later to make a careful selection. She added her cloak on top.
There was still wood in the box and some kindling beneath it. A tinder box sat on the mantelpiece. She cleaned out the ashes, laid the kindling, and sacrificed two front pages from one of the few books they'd brought. She coaxed a flame from the tinder and lit the candle, then used it to light the paper. It took three tries, but eventually the wood caught.
One of the maids would do it better, but she'd bother them as little as possible for now.
With firelight and candlelight, the room felt warmer, but it would take time for the temperature to rise. She pulled on her gloves and went to the window to scrape away frost and look out. First light was brightening the sky and glinting on the silver that showed there'd been a hard frost in the night. What would have become of them without Sir Benjamin?
In the light of a new day, however, hope shriveled like a frosted plant. Sir Benjamin Brook might long for a wife, but he wouldn't be desperate enough to marry a penniless woman he'd found on the road. If he even thought of it, he'd want to know more about her and might not rely on her lies.
No, she would strive for the lesser prize. To be his housekeeper. He wouldn't make such deep enquiries about her then. She smiled sadly for what might have been, but being housekeeper here would provide decently for her children.
She gave Anna the last piece of bread. It was stale, but it would do. Susan woke and whined that she was hungry, too.
"I'm going to get breakfast very soon, darling. Just be a little patient."
Lily wished she could let Charlotte sleep, but she woke her to look after the younger ones. She went into the boys' room. They were fast asleep, but she roused Michael.
He rubbed his eyes. "Is it time to leave?"
She smiled. "We're not leaving. Not yet, at least." She wouldn't offer them hope that might fail. "Sir Benjamin is going to try to find some help for us, and he will allow us to remain here as he does."
"That's good of him. But why?"
There were disadvantages to having clever children.
"Because he's a good man. The important thing is that we must be no trouble to him and his servants. You must help me there."
He nodded. "Once Tom's rested and fed, he'll be up to something."
"So you must keep an eye on him at all times."
She went to the window to look out at the estate again, seeking hazards. The nearby land held little a boy could damage. There were a few flower beds, dead at this time of year, but mostly she saw lawn cropped by sheep. A few trees looked climbable without much danger. She thought of the balls, hoops, and hobby horse they'd left behind, but they must make do.
She turned back. "If necessary, take him outside to run around. You deserve some play, too. Watch all the children if there's frozen water. You can't know if the ice will hold. There's something else. Sir Benjamin's appearance might alarm you. Do you remember he kept his muffler up around his face?" She described Sir Benjamin's jaw. "You must not show alarm or disgust."
"I wouldn't, mama!"
"You might, without meaning to. Be careful, and if you're speaking to him, look at his eyes. He has fine, kind eyes. Try to get Tommy to do the same. It's a matter of kindness."
"If people shrink from him, he'll like it if we don't."
She ruffled his hair. "Clever boy. The more he enjoys our presence here the longer we can stay. He's been used to living quietly, however, so we must keep the peace. Oh, and remember we're Giffords."
He rolled his eyes. "Of course! And I told Tom there was a curse on the name Dellaby that would make his toes fall off if he says it."
"Michael!"
"It's the only thing to work with him."
She shook her head, but he was probably right. "You can unpack your clothes and put on something clean. Brush your hair and try to present a good appearance. I'm going to see about breakfast."
She returned to the girls and gave Charlotte similar instructions.
Susan heard and whined, "Why do we have to be Gifford, mama? Dellaby is much prettier."
"Hush! Are your toes all there?"
Susan's eyes went wide, and she hurried to check. "Why?"
"Because there's a curse on the name that shall not be spoken. Do it again and your toes might shrivel."
"Mama...!" Susan set up a big wail and Charlotte glared as she gathered her sister into her arms, assuring her it wasn't true.
Lily did regret the impulse, but she mouthed to Charlotte that Sir Benjamin must not learn their true name. Charlotte still scowled, but she nodded.
Oh, for that pleasant certainty she'd felt last night. Now everything was on end, and she was at her limit again. That didn't matter. She must do what must be done.
She brushed out her hair and repinned it neatly, then put on a lace-trimmed cap and apron. She surveyed herself. Yes, she looked like a lady of moderate means and complete decency.
How recently she'd been that in truth!
She gathered the supper dishes and left the room. She should go down the servants' stairs, but she went down the main ones, hoping to encounter Sir Benjamin. She didn't, and so she headed toward the servants' quarters. It was not much past eight o'clock, so he was probably asleep.
When she entered the kitchen, chatter died.
She applied hesitancy again. "Good morning. I've brought down the dishes.... Such delicious soup," she said to the cook. "So much appreciated."
The cook said, "Megsy, take the dishes." She spoke sharply. What had changed?
A scullery maid Lily hadn't seen before hurried forward to carry them away. She was no older than Charlotte, which reminded Lily of her daughter's fate if she didn't secure prosperity for them.
Lily could only use honesty. "Sir Benjamin says we may stay for a little while as he helps me find a more appropriate shelter. So very kind..."
She produced a handkerchief and dabbed her eyes.
"He told us, ma'am. It is very kind."
Lily didn't take up that challenge. "We will be no trouble to you, ma'am. None at all. We will fetch and carry for
ourselves and require only the simplest food. Soup and gruel will do."
Was she laying it on too thick?
The cook bridled. "We can do better than that, ma'am!"
"So kind," Lily said again. "May I trouble you for some breakfast for my little ones, ma'am? Some milk and bread will suffice."
"Leah, a tray. Becky, get the pitcher of milk."
Soon a tray was loaded with fresh bread, butter, and a pot of jam, along with six pottery cups and a pitcher of milk.
"I'd better help you with it, ma'am," said Becky. "You carry the pitcher, and I'll take the tray."
"Thank you."
Lily would dearly love some chocolate to drink, or even -- blissful thought -- some tea, but she had more important requests.
At the kitchen door, she hesitated and turned. "Would it be possible to have a little more wood, Mistress Kingsley? And do you think Sir Benjamin would mind if my children went outside? They will need some exercise."
"You are to be treated as guests, Mistress Gifford."
"As guests? Oh, no, that's not necessary."
"All the same," the cook said, "it's what the master instructed."
So that was why the cook-housekeeper's back was up.
"Then you must let me help as much as possible whilst obeying Sir Benjamin's instructions."
At some point she'd have to broach the subject of slops and laundry, but enough was enough for now.
She followed the maid upstairs, and they laid out the breakfast in the girls' room. She thanked the maid again.
"That's all right, ma'am," Becky said with a cheerful smile. "You mustn't mind cook's manner. She's worried about changes. Don't like them any more than Sir Benjamin does. To my mind a few changes wouldn't come amiss here. I'll take the chamber pots as I go, ma'am."
Lily sincerely thanked her for that, wondering if the maid's reassurances were mere chatter, or had contained a message of support.
Perhaps Becky wouldn't mind if Lily became housekeeper here. All the same, Mistress Kingsley could become an enemy, and if it came to a choice, Sir Benjamin would choose the cook.
As the old saying goes, the way to a man's heart was through his stomach.
***