by Deborah Hale
Her words lit a blaze of outrage within Jasper, as injustice and abuse always did. He might have vented those feelings with some pithy remarks, but Evangeline Fairfax gave him no opportunity. Now that she had begun to speak, more words poured out.
Perhaps sensing Jasper’s sympathy, she told him about the dampness and overcrowding that had bred disease. She told him about the bullying that was a deplorable consequence of any group having too little of life’s necessities.
“That is monstrous!” Jasper growled when he could no longer contain his indignation. “If ever there was a situation calculated to crush young spirits, that vile place sounds like it. How did you manage to turn out so well?”
His words seemed to release Miss Fairfax from the grip of her dark memories. But before she could reply, a small voice piped up from the direction of his sons’ bedroom.
“What monsters, Papa?” asked Owen as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes. “Was Miss Fairfax telling you a fairy tale?”
“Something like that.” Jasper beckoned his youngest son toward him. “Fortunately, like most fairy tales, it all works out in the end, thanks to the bravery and goodness of the heroine.”
As he spoke, it occurred to him how many fairy tales were stories of girls, often orphaned, who had to overcome great hardship to secure the happy ending they so richly deserved. Evangeline Fairfax had all the makings of a fairy-tale heroine come to life. And he had only heard the beginning of her story. Now Jasper longed to learn more, but he would have to wait.
Owen padded over to the table and crawled up into his father’s lap. “Miss Fairfax tells good stories. They make me see pictures in my head. She says that is called ’magination.”
No doubt his governess could evoke dramatic images of the characters’ suffering, drawing on her own experience.
The boy snuggled into Jasper’s arms and asked his governess, “Will you begin the story again, please, so I can hear?”
“I’m afraid that will have to wait until bedtime.” Miss Fairfax reached out and bestowed a fond caress on the child’s golden-brown hair. “Now I must wake your brothers and sisters. You have all slept in late this morning.”
She rose and headed for the girls’ room with her accustomed brisk composure restored. But Jasper had glimpsed the downtrodden charity pupil Miss Fairfax kept as well hidden as he did the overworked bobbin boy. There were some who might look down on the lady for her early misfortunes, but the knowledge of what she had overcome only raised her in Jasper’s estimation.
* * *
As she roused the other children for the day and took refuge in familiar nursery routine, Evangeline sought to push her recollections of the Pendergast School back into the deepest recesses of her memory. Though those experiences had helped to make her the person she was and spurred her to establish a better school in its place, she seldom permitted herself to dwell on her darker memories from those blighted years.
As she helped Emma and Rosie dress for the day, she recalled the drab, ill-made dresses the Pendergast pupils had been obliged to wear, all identical. Which had been worse—the flimsy fabric that afforded little protection from the pervasive damp chill or the way the strict uniformity sought to stifle any flicker of distinctiveness.
Watching the children eat their breakfast of porridge studded with plump raisins, followed by buttered eggs and muffins, Evangeline sickened with the memory of watery gruel that had no taste at all unless the cook let some of it burn to the bottom of the pot. Unappetizing as it had been, she’d wolfed it down to dull the gnawing ache that seldom left her belly.
While the children larked about with their father, Evangeline was more than usually indulgent with them, recalling the frequent punishments that had been a way of life at the Pendergast School. The slightest infraction of numerous, often conflicting, rules had earned penalties that ranged from whippings to standing on a chair for hours or being deprived of meals that were already inadequate.
Jasper Chase was right. It had been a situation calculated to break young spirits.
As she watched him exchange a fond smile with Emma while patiently answering a series of questions from Matthew, it dawned on Evangeline that Mr. Chase truly seemed to understand what she had endured. His indignation had been so tangible she could almost feel its sharp edge. Somehow, his outrage on her behalf soothed the feelings her memories provoked.
She told herself it would be worth her distress if the things she’d told her employer made him understand why it was so vital for her to establish a new school. At the same time, her memories reproached her for allowing him to delay her mission for as long as she had. There were girls, perhaps no older than Rosie, suffering the same hardships she and her friends had endured, when she might have spared them. That was not Mr. Chase’s fault, but hers.
Evangeline roused abruptly from her troubled thoughts to find her pupils staring at her.
“Did you hear me?” asked Matthew. “Are we going on another outing today?”
“I—I have no idea,” she replied. “You will have to ask your father about that.”
Alfie turned at once toward Mr. Chase. “Can we, Papa? Please! It was jolly fun to go fishing and kite flying.”
“So it was,” Mr. Chase agreed. “But I am not certain poor Mrs. Gilman is up to preparing a picnic luncheon every day. Why don’t we stay at home today and find ways to amuse ourselves here?”
The children could not hide their disappointment, especially Rosie and the older boys. But when their father suggested they play pall-mall and some other outdoor games, they grew more enthusiastic.
“Can we go for a walk,” Owen asked Evangeline, “while Papa and Granny and the others are having their breakfast?”
She nodded. “That sounds like a fine idea. You may bring your butterfly net in case we see any interesting specimens.”
A brisk walk with the children would do her good. Fresh morning air and movement might be just what she needed to lift her thoughts out of the dark place into which they had fallen.
As the children hurried off to get ready for their walk, Mr. Chase leaned toward her and spoke softly. “I am sorry to have brought up all that business about your younger years. I had no idea how deeply personal an undertaking it would be for you to set up this new school. If I had known, I would have tried to assist you rather than dragging my heels and throwing obstacles in your path.”
He reached across the table and covered her folded hands with one of his. It felt protective yet sympathetic and encouraging. “I hope you can forgive me.”
“Of course.” She had to force the words out—not because of any reluctance to do what he asked, but because her throat had grown tight. “I should have told you long ago.”
Perhaps she should. But it had never crossed her mind that he might care about the circumstances of her girlhood. Besides, she had never before trusted anyone sufficiently to reveal this vulnerable facet of her character—least of all her dynamic, successful employer.
“I wish you had.” Jasper Chase patted her hands then drew his back. “But now that I know part of your story, I am anxious to hear the rest. I will be waiting for you tomorrow morning.”
The thought of that encounter made Evangeline want to run away as fast and as far as she could get in twenty-four hours. Yet another part of her could scarcely wait for tomorrow morning to come.
* * *
Early the next morning, Jasper sat in the nursery again, sipping a cup of good strong coffee as he waited for Evangeline Fairfax to join him.
After yesterday, he would not blame her if she refused to come out until she heard his children stirring. Agreeing to give him courting lessons had been one thing, but she could not have expected to relive the worst experiences of her life. In her place, he would have wanted to bury those memories even deeper. Yet here he sat, waiting for her to tell him more about th
e wretched past that had shaped the woman she’d become.
His anticipation was whetted to a sharp pitch by the time he heard Miss Fairfax begin to move about quietly in her room. At last she emerged, with an air of mingled eagerness and reluctance.
“Good morning.” He held a chair for her. “I was not certain you would join me this morning.”
“Neither was I.” She sank onto the chair. “But I could not resist the smell of coffee.”
Jasper gave a low, rumbling chuckle as he resumed his seat and poured her a cup of the bitter but invigorating brew. “You are a woman after my own heart, Miss Fairfax. I hope you slept well.”
“Well enough.” She pulled the cup toward her and inhaled the aroma rising from it. Then she took a sip, closing her eyes as if to savor the taste. “The children had a fine time yesterday. I noticed you managed a longer conversation with Miss Webster. Perhaps you do not require lessons from me, after all.”
Jasper shook his head. “Quite the contrary. The only reason Miss Webster spoke with me was because I took your advice. I asked her father about her interests and he said she is very partial to music. So I asked her if she might favor us with a recital some evening.”
“What did she say to that?” Evangeline Fairfax seemed less self-conscious now that they were discussing Miss Webster.
“She claimed she would feel uncomfortable being the center of attention for all that time. But she suggested we might get up a little concert with everyone having an opportunity to perform. What do you think?”
Miss Fairfax seemed surprised to be consulted, but she did not hesitate to give her opinion. “It sounds like a fine idea. The more I hear of your Miss Webster, the better I like her. I believe she will make you a very good wife.”
He nodded absently. Margaret Webster was not his. Besides, it was not Miss Webster he wanted to talk about now. “I wonder if the children might take part. I know you have been teaching them music and I thought they might enjoy entertaining our guests.”
“Indeed they might,” she replied. “Let me know when you decide to have this concert and I will do all I can to assist Miss Webster.”
“Did they teach music at your old school?” Jasper seized the opportunity to return to that subject.
“I wondered when you would get around to asking about that.” Miss Fairfax looked at him the way she sometimes looked at Alfie when he misbehaved—as if she knew she ought to scold him but found his antics too amusing.
Jasper tried to mimic his son’s winsome grin. “You didn’t think I would forget, did you?”
She pursed her lips into a tight frown that he sensed she found hard to maintain. “I thought after your conversation with Miss Webster, you would have more profitable things to think about.”
“There is more to life than profit.” The words popped out by reflex because he spoke them so often to the other mill owners of Manchester, who seemed to regard the sentiment as blasphemous. “Tell me more about how you managed to escape from that wretched school with your spirit intact.”
“I do not wish to dwell on the hardships of my youth,” Evangeline Fairfax insisted in a firm tone. “I put them behind me long ago and that is where I mean them to stay. I refuse to give them the power to distress me further.”
He of all people ought to understand that, yet Jasper could not conceal his disappointment.
Perhaps seeing it so plain on his face made her relent a little. “But I will tell you what made those conditions bearable and helped me rise above them. It was my faith in the Lord and the support of my friends. Six of us banded together, as close as sisters. Each of us brought some special quality or ability to the group that enriched us all and made us stronger together than we could ever have been on our own.”
Her eyes took on a fervent glow as she spoke of her friends. Her account fascinated Jasper, who had never experienced that strong a bond, even with Norton Brookes.
He leaned forward, his chin cupped in the palm of his hand. “What sort of qualities did each of you bring to the group?”
The lady’s tense frown softened. It was clear she needed less urging to speak about that part of her past. “Marian Murray had the courage of a lion when it came to defending others. Leah Shaw could always make us laugh, no matter how bleak things looked.”
Jasper gave an approving nod. Those were excellent traits for comrades to possess, especially in such circumstances. He was glad that young Evangeline Fairfax had been blessed with such friends.
“Rebecca Beaton was unshakably loyal.” Her tone warmed as she spoke of her friends. “We could count on her to encourage us when our spirits were low. Hannah Fletcher was conscientious and capable. She would gladly turn her hand to anything to help one of us. Grace Ellerby was kindhearted and understanding. We could always confide in her and know we would get a sympathetic hearing.”
“What about Evangeline Fairfax?” he asked when she paused. “What did she contribute to this group of friends? Something equally valuable, I’m certain.”
Miss Fairfax cast him a doubtful look. “The other girls called me their ‘intrepid leader,ʼ which I suspect was a kind way of saying I was insufferably overbearing.”
A week ago, he might have agreed with her. But at the moment Jasper could not bear to hear her criticized—even by herself. “There is more to leadership than that. I reckon it is as admirable a quality as those others you mentioned.”
As she took another sip of her coffee, Miss Fairfax glanced up at him with an air of gratitude that moved him to add, “Proper leadership inspires a group with purpose. It brings out the individual skills of each member and welds them into a powerful force for the good of all.”
“You do make the quality sound admirable.”
“Because it is. I am only saying what I believe your friends would say about you. I believe you have done the same thing for my children. You have cultivated their special qualities and made them a true family—loving and loyal to one another. For that, we all owe you a great debt.”
Miss Fairfax lowered her gaze. “That is very kind of you to say, especially since you have experienced the other side of my leadership—deciding what is best for others and imposing my will on them even when they disagree.”
Jasper gave a rueful shrug. “It is not always easy for people to recognize what is best for them. My children, for example. Given the choice, they would eat nothing but sweets and stay awake all night. Insisting they take proper nourishment, keep regular hours and learn their lessons is not tyranny but kindness, even if they cannot always recognize it.”
“It sounds much nicer when you put it that way.” Miss Fairfax picked up the coffeepot and poured what was left into their two cups. “I suppose being a governess does provide scope for exercising leadership.”
Jasper nodded. “That ability will make you an excellent headmistress of your school.”
“Speaking of which,” she replied, “we must not forget your reason for coming here this morning. I have given some thought to what other lessons might be helpful in winning Miss Webster. I believe the next topic we should concentrate on is telling her more about yourself and the things that interest you. After all, she will want to gain a sense of whether you are the kind of man with whom she would like to spend the rest of her life.”
“I suppose that stands to reason.” Jasper could guess where such a lesson might lead and it was a direction he would have preferred to avoid.
But how could he resist, when Miss Fairfax had given him a glimpse of her painful past?
“Does that mean you would be willing to tell me about your extraordinary cotton mill,” she asked, “and why it is so important for you to operate it the way you do?”
“Willing might be a bit strong a word for it.” He bolted the last of his coffee. “But I reckon what’s sauce for the goose is sauce for the gander.”
“So it is.” Jasper embraced the child with a rumbling chuckle born as much of relief as amusement. “Then I suppose the goose will just have to wait.”
As he bent forward and rubbed noses with his small daughter, he realized how fast she and the others were growing up. He knew Miss Fairfax wanted him to spend more time with his children so their younger years would not seem to disappear so quickly.
Surely he owed it to her to explain why he could not.
Chapter Eight
Why was Mr. Chase reluctant to tell her about his mill?
Evangeline considered the possibilities that Sunday morning while she prepared her pupils for church.
Surely he did not think she would disapprove of his innovations as haughty Miss Anstruther might. Perhaps it was modesty that made him hesitate to proclaim his admirable work, though somehow she did not think so.
“Remember,” she warned the children as she gave their appearance a final inspection before they set out for church, “you must be on your very best behavior this morning so you will be a credit to your father and grandmother.”
“I will try.” Matthew sighed. “But it is a long while to sit still with nothing to do.”
Alfie nodded in agreement.
“You could try listening to what the vicar says.” Evangeline decided to take the precaution of not letting the brothers sit together, where they might egg each other on into mischief. Instead, she would place one on either side of her, where she could keep a close eye on them. “Why don’t we make a game of it. After church, I shall ask three questions about the service. There will be a special treat for everyone who can answer one or more correctly.”
“Can I play, too?” asked Emma. “Or is the game only for Matthew and Alfie?”
“You are all welcome to play.” Evangeline plumped the bow on Emma’s bonnet and reflected on how much the child had grown since she’d first arrived at Amberwood. “However, I believe some of you may find it less of a challenge than others.”