by Brown, T. J.
“What kind of oil do you use?” Victoria asked, watching with interest as Nanny Iris repeatedly dipped a small net bag of freshly cut oregano into a jar of warm oil.
“You can use olive oil or grape-seed oil. I’m using olive oil because it’s easier to come by.” After squeezing the oil out a few times, she pushed the bag down into the jar, added more oil, and screwed on the lid.
“And what is this used for again?”
Nanny Iris smiled. “I use it to bring in money from the pharmacist in town. But it’s commonly used to ease sore throats and can be helpful in settling digestive problems. Some people also use it to relieve aching muscles.” She wiped the jar off with a clean cloth and set it in a cupboard alongside several other jars. “This one will be ready to sell in a couple of weeks.”
Victoria laid the table for tea while Nanny Iris put away the herbs and concoctions they had been working on. Working with Nanny Iris in her warm, homey kitchen filled Victoria with the kind of simple satisfaction she hadn’t felt since she’d helped her father in his office. From her father she’d learned the genus and species and chemical properties of each plant. From Nanny Iris she learned the myths, legends, and the plants’ medicinal uses. Sometimes when infusing or mixing herbs together, she could almost feel her father by her side watching their progress.
Nanny Iris put the kettle on for tea. “How has your breathing been lately? Has the infusion I made you done any good?”
Victoria nodded. “I think so. Climbing stairs is easier and I run out of air less often. But it’s hard to tell because my episodes often decrease when I come to Summerset.”
“I wouldn’t doubt it. The air is much better here than in the city. Does it ever worsen in June or July?”
Victoria nodded. “Yes, and then it’s worse out here than in the city.”
“Did your fancy doctors ever mention hay fever?”
“A German doctor did when we were vacationing in Davos once. But he also said the increase in episodes could be the thin air, too.”
“You are a special case, that’s for sure. I’m working on another infusion for you that may help even more. Now tell me, how is your sister doing?”
Victoria poured the tea while Nanny Iris set out the clotted cream and jam. They finally sat and Victoria closed her eyes while Nanny Iris said a quick grace.
Victoria spread her scone thickly with jam and cream and took a big bite. Not even Cook at Summerset could compete with Nanny Iris’s scones. “Rowena acts as if she were sleepwalking half the time. Prudence is being treated abominably and Rowena doesn’t do anything about it.”
“Remember, child, she’s grieving as much as you are. Grief does funny things to a person.”
Victoria nodded, her throat tightening. “I understand that, but we can’t just sit by and let this happen. And they won’t listen to me, that’s for sure.”
“Who won’t?”
“My aunt and uncle.”
“What makes you think they will listen to Rowena any more than they listen to you?”
Victoria took a sip of her tea and then shrugged. “I don’t know that they will, but it irks me that Rowena won’t even try. Prudence is family, for heaven’s sake!”
Nanny Iris refilled their teacups. “Why don’t you all just go back home to London?”
“Because Uncle wants us to stay with him. He doesn’t like the idea of us being in London alone. I think he’s afraid we’ll embarrass him somehow.”
“That boy always did worry about what other people thought too much,” Nanny Iris observed.
Victoria’s lips twitched at the thought of her uncle as a spoiled boy. “It’s not like I hate it at Summerset,” she said. “I love it there. If Prudence were being treated like a member of the family, I wouldn’t mind staying. But she’s treated like a servant just because her mother was our governess. She isn’t a servant, she’s like our sister. And the worst part is that there’s nothing I can do to help her . . . I feel completely powerless. It’s appalling.”
“It seems so. Why would the family even care? Well, I can see why your aunt would care. Acts like a queen, that one. And you say the girl’s mother is dead?”
“She died several years ago. Pru just stayed with us. My father loved her. We all do. Now she has to wear a uniform and act like she’s our lady’s maid and goodness only knows what they make her do when we’re not around.
“You actually might have known Pru’s mother,” Victoria continued. “She worked at the big house as a young girl.”
“Oh, really?” Nanny Iris set her teacup down. “Was she a local girl? What’s her name?”
“Alice Tate.”
Nanny Iris froze, shock flickering across the wrinkled planes of her face. Then the look swiftly vanished as if it were never there at all.
Victoria stiffened. “What? Do you know her?”
The old woman shook her head. “No. I’ve never heard of her.”
“But even if you didn’t know her personally, surely the name rings a bell—” Victoria persisted.
“Many people have worked at Summerset whom I’ve never met,” Nanny Iris cut in. “It’s not that unusual that I wouldn’t know her. Are you finished with that?”
Victoria nodded and the old woman leapt up and started putting their tea things away. Victoria knew without being told that she was being dismissed. She helped clear up the tea things and left after a warm hug and a promise to visit again soon.
Victoria wrapped a scarf more tightly around her neck. The frozen grass crunched under her feet as she crisscrossed a field over to the main road running back to Summerset.
What was that look all about? Victoria picked up her pace a bit as the sun sunk even further behind the hills. Nanny Iris had to know who Prudence’s mother was. She had left the family right after Victoria’s aunt Halpernia had died in an accident as a child. Victoria sensed that Nanny Iris didn’t want to talk about Halpernia. But then again, her own father hadn’t spoken about his baby sister either. No one did.
Victoria wondered about Prudence’s mother. Why had Elaine seemed to know about Prudence’s mother when she saw the photographs? Why did Nanny Iris lie about knowing her? Had there been some kind of scandal? Victoria’s blood quickened. Another secret? As a governess, Miss Tate had been warm and knowledgeable and almost like a mother to Victoria and Rowena. But unlike her own father, who treated Prudence as his own, Miss Tate always showed restraint in her affections.
The sun dipped lower and Victoria wanted to hurry, but was worried about having an episode if she did. When would she learn that she needed to take that detestable black box with her everywhere? She’d grown up with Rowena and Prudence worrying over her like a pair of banty hens, not wanting her to do this or that. Bugger that. If she didn’t get out of the house on occasion, she was going to go mad like the women in those old French novels. Prudence was off doing whatever it was that Mrs. Harper kept her busy doing, and Rowena was moping in her room, as always. Her sister now spent most of her time woolgathering or out riding.
Victoria spent her days reading until her eyes were blurry or gossiping with Elaine about people she barely knew. Miss Fister had sent her a refund of her money with a note apologizing, but she couldn’t teach how to be a good secretary by mail. So now she didn’t even have that, though she did have an idea that might work . . . and be an amusing secret, as well.
The truth was, she missed her father. She missed her life. No one did anything here. At home, Victoria helped with her father’s work, studied her secretarial lessons, or worked on her sketching. She and Rowena and Pru would attend plays and go out to dinner, and every Monday and Wednesday she walked down to Mrs. Humphry Ward’s settlement house and helped take care of the little ones while their mothers worked.
Prudence’s and Rowena’s days seemed equally busy. Prudence was always occupied with her writing, practicing her piano, volunteering at the hospital, or going to museums. Rowena attended suffrage meetings, read, or took long walks or rides i
n Hyde Park or Kensington Gardens, or played whatever sport she was currently taken with.
Here, the days were spent changing clothes, from morning dresses to afternoon dresses to dinner dresses. One needed a completely new ensemble if she wanted to walk or ride, and the rest of the time, Elaine told her with a derisive giggle, was filled with planning your next change.
Climbing over the stone fence, she reached the main road and resumed her walk.
She knew she could cut through the woods, but Nanny Iris had made her promise she wouldn’t go near them at night and to take a friend if she was going during the day. Victoria thought she was being a bit overcareful, but Nanny Iris had an old woman’s fear of ghosts.
Lights flashed behind her and the horn of a motorcar bellowed. She jumped out of the way as a car passed and then slowed. There were several laughing young men in the car and, alarmed, Victoria froze, ready to run if need be.
“Cousin Victoria! What are you doing out all by yourself? Mother will be having a fit, I’m sure.”
Victoria peered through the gloom. “Colin? Is that you?”
“The one and only. Scoot over, Sebastian, and make room, you big oaf. Get in, Vic. I’ll give you a ride.”
Unperturbed, a tall man climbed into the back with the other fellow. Victoria recognized Lord Billingsly. She hadn’t seen the other man before.
She opened the door to the sedate touring car and climbed in next to her cousin. “I didn’t even know you were coming. Do your parents know?”
“No, I’m surprising them for a long weekend. Sebastian and Kit in the back there are along for the ride. I actually came out for Elaine.”
“Elaine?”
“Yes. My poor little sis says it’s dreadfully dull out here in the sticks, so I try to come liven her up whenever I can take time off from school. Aren’t you bored?”
She paused, not wanting to offend. Guessing the reason for her hesitation, he laughed.
“Oh, you can tell me the truth. I know what it’s like.”
“Well, there does seem to be an inordinate amount of free time.”
He threw his head back and laughed. She’d always thought her cousin attractive, but that was when he’d been a boy. In the two years since she’d seen him, he had somehow turned into a man. Like Elaine’s, his hair was a warm brown and his eyes were blue, but his nicest feature was the smile that softened the firm jaw that was a male Buxton trademark. He reminded her of a man in a fairy tale—not the hero who won the princess, but the sidekick who made it all possible.
“Very judiciously put, cousin. Didn’t you turn eighteen last year? Why didn’t you have a coming-out ball?”
She shrugged. “Rowena and I didn’t want one and our father never pushed us.”
“Smart man. All that stuff is on its way out anyway.” He glanced over at her and his mouth tightened. “I’m really sorry about your father, Vic. He was truly one of a kind.”
She nodded, fighting that ever-present lump again.
Lord Billingsly leaned forward and stuck his head between the two of them. “You’d better stop talking and hurry. The sun is almost gone and we’ll have to stop and light the headlamps. And you know how much fun that always is.” His voice held a humorous edge and Victoria knew there was a story there.
“Righto!”
Victoria clung to the door handle as her cousin picked up speed and careened around corners. Once, he almost hit an unsuspecting herd of sheep. She heard the sheepherder yelling at them and began laughing in a breathless way that warned her of a possible episode. She closed her eyes and concentrated on breathing until he pulled up in front of the house.
“You can open your eyes now, cousin. I got you here in one piece.”
“Barely,” Sebastian said from the back. “And I think you may have given the shepherd a heart attack.”
The wide front doors were flung open, spilling light out onto the drive. Prudence rushed out, a shawl wrapped around her shoulders.
“Where have you been? Do you know how worried we’ve been about you?”
Victoria climbed out of the motorcar, waiting for her lecture.
But Prudence stood frozen with a look on her face that Victoria had never seen before as her gaze focused on something behind Victoria. Victoria’s head swiveled to find that young Lord Billingsly was staring back at Prudence. For a moment Victoria thought they were going to run to each other, so strong was the current between them. When that didn’t happen she began to squirm.
“Well, I might as well make the introduction, since you both have been struck dumb. Prudence, this is Lord Billingsly, I believe you met him at Papa’s funeral. Lord Billingsly, this is my dearest friend, Prudence Tate.” She looked at both of them still staring at each other, transfixed. “Now speak for heaven’s sake!”
CHAPTER
EIGHT
Prudence blushed and looked away. From the look on his face, it seemed he had recognized her as immediately as she had recognized him. She looked at the ground, realizing how she must look, but still grateful Vic had introduced her as her friend instead of as her lady’s maid. Her eyes went back to him, and even in the darkness she could see the color staining his cheeks.
So he was as affected by her as she was by him.
Another young man climbed out of the car and joined them. “Now I know you’re not cousin Rowena, even if your coloring is the same.” He turned to Victoria. “You didn’t tell me you had friends visiting.”
Victoria looked from one to the other. “Oh, my apologies. Cousin Colin, this is my dear friend and companion, Prudence Tate. Prudence, this is my cousin, Lord Cliveon, and his friend, whom you’ve just met, and . . .” Victoria faltered as the other young man joined them from the back of the car. “I’m afraid I don’t know—”
He stuck his hand out. “My name is Charles, but you can call me Kit.”
Colin and Lord Billingsly laughed as if it were the funniest name ever. Everyone began bowing and shaking hands all around. The men even began shaking hands with one another, which made Victoria laugh. Prudence took the opportunity to draw her aside as the men called for the footmen to unload the motorcar.
“Where have you been? You must be freezing. You gave me quite a scare.”
“I went to visit an old friend. I didn’t mean to worry you.”
Prudence looked at her thoughtfully. While Victoria’s voice sounded contrite, there was something about her that seemed a bit brighter than when Prudence had dressed her earlier. As if a burden had lightened, perhaps.
Maybe she needed the company of others? Laughing young men were certainly better company than either she or Rowena had been these last couple of weeks. Prudence shot another glance at Lord Billingsly. When she saw he was looking back at her, she blushed and turned away. Hurrying Victoria into the house, she pressed the call bell for the front door, which would bring Mr. Cairns running. He could sort out the young men and their things. She just wanted to get Victoria inside, for in spite of the brightness in the girl’s eyes, Prudence sensed her weariness.
They met Elaine in the hall. She was already dressed for dinner in a Chinese pink charmeuse dress with a matching pleated tunic. The neckline and the edge of the tunic were both trimmed with ermine, and Prudence wondered whether she’d ever seen anything so lovely before. “Where have you been, Victoria? Mother’s very put out, I’m afraid, and she’s been taking it out on the rest of us, thank you very much. Hurry and dress for dinner before she blows her top completely.”
The voices coming from the front door made her pause, and then she began to run with a cry. “Colin! I was so hoping you would come home this weekend!”
“We’d better go and get you dressed for dinner, before you’re in any more trouble.” Prudence took Victoria by the arm.
“Do you ever get the feeling that we spend most of the day changing?” Victoria asked as they climbed the stairs.
Prudence fell silent and Victoria turned to her, a stricken look on her face. “Oh, I am so sorry,
Pru. I didn’t think.”
“It’s okay. I’d almost rather wear this ugly old uniform than have to change three or four times a day.”
But in her heart Prudence knew this wasn’t true. She had some lovely dresses still packed away in her trunks. Almost all of them were new, because they’d had so many mourning dresses made up before the funeral. Though most of them were black, she’d had a few made up of dark colors such as plum, maroon, and one a lovely midnight blue. She’d never even gotten a chance to wear them. She often opened her trunk and ran her hands over the lovely silks, laces, and tulle. Her hands had become so chapped from helping Susie with the pans in the morning that they caught on the fine fabrics.
Suppressing a sigh, she quickly helped Victoria out of her walking suit as soon as they reached the Rose Room. Once she had her down to her chemise and petticoat, she shooed her into the bathroom to wash up.
Instead of choosing a completely black dress, she selected a dark blue silk pleated dress with a dotted lace tunic and a blue sash at the waist. Victoria was only eighteen; there was no reason for her to wear black all the time, even if it had only been a few weeks since her father had died. If being around handsome young men could lighten her grief a little bit, Prudence was going to help all she could.
Her cheeks flushed as she remembered staring at Lord Billingsly in her shapeless skirt and shirtwaist. What must he think of her?
Not for the first time did she fervently wish they could all go back in time. But would it have made any difference? Even in her fine clothes, with her hair done up in a pile of curls, she was still the daughter of a governess. Nothing was going to change that, and Lord Billingsly was heir to a way of life that had nothing to do with her. Rowena and Victoria spurned that way of life, but they could pick it up again at any moment. They belonged, as proven by how well they fit into life here at Summerset. She, ordinary Prudence Tate, did not belong.
Prudence helped Victoria into her dinner dress. At first she was worried about what Vic would say to the color of her dress, as deep mourning forbade it, but all Vic did was smile.