by Ayles, Abby
The time was set for weekly visits in the afternoon and though Mrs. McCarthy was against it she reluctantly took some of Hannah’s coins from her purse.
“It is at least enough to cover the cost of supplies. I wouldn’t dream of you taking that burden upon yourself.”
It was getting close to late afternoon, sadly, and with reluctancy the trio bid their new friend goodbye before entering their cart.
“You know what might be fun,” Hannah said to the girls after they reached the edge of the village. “Let us keep our visits to Grannie a secret from your father.”
“A secret? Why?” inquisitive Rebecca asked.
“Well,” Hannah thought out slowly. “That way as you practice and improve he won’t be the wiser, but then once you truly have mastered the skill and have a masterpiece to show, think how surprised he will be to see it.”
“We could make it like a present for Father,” Rebecca agreed.
“Exactly. What do you think? Would that be a lovely idea for your father?”
She was waiting for Caroline to agree. Rebecca may have been the chatterbox but Caroline was certainly the one in charge. Often Rebecca deferred to her older sister’s judgment. If Hannah had a hope of winning over the girls it would be through Lady Caroline.
“I think Father would like that. Perhaps he will finish the west wing and put our paintings in it,” she added.
“Oh that would be marvelous,” Hannah agreed with a sigh of relief.
She did have a nagging guilt deep down that she had roped the girls into some sort of trickery against their father. She tried to tell herself that it was only to save the earl from his own wrath.
He was sure to disapprove of her trips to see Mrs. McCarthy on account of her eligible son. He would never understand that Matthew McCarthy would no sooner encounter them at his mother’s house than catch a star in his hand.
It may have been deceitful and dishonest but it was for a good purpose. They would provide company to a lady who desperately was in need of it. It would also hopefully line her pockets that much more.
Hannah didn’t even hesitate when she gave of her own coin to do so. Yes, that would mean less to send back to her family in London. It was still worth it if it meant seeing Mrs. McCarthy’s house slightly less empty of necessities.
The following month was one of the most enjoyable that Hannah had had for a very long time. Even with the money that she gave to Mrs. McCarthy she still had a good amount to send back to her parents and siblings still at home.
She knew that her mother appreciated any little bit of help that Hannah could give. She also felt an obligation to do so. Though the opportunity afforded by Hannah’s aunt and uncle was not what she would have chosen for herself, had she the choice. But it was a far greater opportunity than any of her other siblings would get.
Perhaps if one of her brothers was lucky they might find way into an apprenticeship. More than likely all four of her brothers would end up working at the docks loading and unloading ship cargo like her father.
Her six sisters, including the babe her mother had just given birth to, would have it vastly harder than even the boys. They were furnished no education past what their mother could read out of a bible. They would have very little prospects in life but to marry a poor seaport man and live the hard life of Hannah’s parents all over again.
Hannah Jacobson had been spared that life only because she happened to be the firstborn. Though some might have seen the prospect of sending wages home a burden, she was more than glad to do so.
She had little use for them anyway at Brighton Abby. Of course there were the small items that she would purchase from the village shop, all via Mary, but other than that she wanted for nothing.
She was furnished with a warm bed, more than adequate food to eat, and the simple pleasure of a warm fire should she ever desire it. All things that had not been a norm for her up until this point.
The girls were really beginning to blossom as they became more accustomed to Hannah’s presence. Even Lady Caroline seemed to accept her more.
A large part of this new acceptance was due to their weekly trips to town. Lady Caroline had bonded with Grannie, as she was now affectionately called by all of them, in a way that neither Hannah nor Lady Rebecca had.
They both had an unspoken thread that tied the one to the other. Grannie of course loved the company of all the girls, but in Lady Caroline she saw a reflection of her younger self.
Often, after their lesson Grannie would invite them to stay longer for a visit. Rebecca would take the time to pet one of Grannie’s cats or play tea with a doll she brought along.
Caroline on the other hand was very serious about her artwork. Even after the lesson would be complete she wouldn’t be satisfied to stay her hand. For another hour or so Grannie would sit by Lady Caroline as she worked and give words of approval or suggestions of improvement.
At the moment both girls had first worked on their sketching abilities and now had moved on to water colors. Hannah had never really considered a poor art teacher, but she was immensely grateful that the girls had such a superior teacher that could only come with years of experience.
It was on such an afternoon that an unexpected guest arrived.
“What is all this?” a male voice boomed as he entered the small cottage without so much as a knock.
All four ladies turned in surprise but it was only Grannie that spoke.
“Oh, Matty ‘ave you come to see me then? You remember Miss Jacobson, don’t ye? I told you how she has been taking these fine Ladies to tutor under me,” she said, hobbling up from her seat next to Lady Caroline and coming to usher him into the room.
Matthew McCarthy hesitated a moment. He knew of the art lesson arrangement but had not really paid much attention to what his mother said. He had never dreamed that he would walk into the middle of one.
“Well, I don’t want to disturb,” he said, wavering at the door though his eyes fell on Hannah and he wavered more.
Though she still wore her cotton cap she had stopped wearing the spectacles that covered most of her face. When Mr. McCarthy’s eyes met hers she couldn’t help but look away shyly.
The effect of her rosy cheeks with sweet dimples and her dark blue eyes enhanced by the light coming through the window seat she sat in was most intoxicating.
“I won’t hear of it, Matty,” Grannie said, “You come and ‘ave a seat. Lady Rebecca here can pour you a nice cup of tea. Of course that is if her dolly will take the company.”
“Miss Jacobson would be much obliged for it,” Grannie continued, looking at Hannah.
“Yes,” Hannah stammered out on cue, “do come and join us. The lesson is over so you won’t be disturbing a thing.”
She had spoken her words only half-heartedly. She couldn’t say otherwise, it would be far too rude. However, taking tea with a man that she had promised the earl she would not see was pressing on her conscience.
Mr. McCarthy was all smiles when he heard Hannah’s encouragement and came fully into the room and set down the burlap bag in his hands.
“Are those the potatoes for me?” Grannie asked.
“Yes,” he said, though his attention was wholly elsewhere.
“I’ll just take ‘em in the kitchen then,” Grannie said, starting to lift the large sack of vegetables. To Hannah’s surprise Mr. McCarthy didn’t offer to help.
“Nonsense, Grannie,” she said, quickly coming to her feet. “That is far too heavy for you. Let me take it,” Hannah added, picking up the sack without so much as a glance at Mr. McCarthy.
She didn’t care if it was her or him that left the room but one of them needed to. Every second she sat in his presence she feared the earl finding out and what reprimand would come of it.
Chapter Twelve
Hannah had feared one of the girls letting slip that they were at Grannie’s house that day, or worse that there had also been an added guest. After the first supper with no incident she became m
ore relieved.
The girls had kept true to silencing their tongue on the matter until they finished their watercolor portrait. It meant time was running out for Hannah to assure the earl that she was quite capable of going to town and being trustworthy to boot.
She also feared that with such proximity to Mr. McCarthy’s appearance that when the time did come Lady Rebecca would mention such fact. The earl would never trust her if that was to happen.
She felt, other than the weight of her secret kept from him, that things with the earl were on good terms. She kept to herself in her free time and he was often preoccupied with his work in the west wing. The only time they saw each other was at dinner and Sunday services.
Luckily it was easy to keep both girls talking through the meal so that not much passed between her and the earl. She didn’t fear him like she did that first morning in the solicitor’s office, nor did she quite feel comfortable enough to speak to him if it could be helped.
Overall, she felt that she had found a good working relationship with Lord Grimshaw. She was relieved at this fact and hoped it meant that this could be a steady employment for her, unlike the last.
Of course the wild card in that hope was Mr. Poole. Though he had made his presence known from time to time, for the most part she saw little of him. Often it would only be in passing or serving at meals and that didn’t allot him much opportunity to harass her.
She was sure if she kept away from him, he would soon bore of her. After all, men seemed to enjoy the chase far more than her. If there was no chase for him, she was sure he would give up the hunt altogether.
It was on a warm summer afternoon that Hannah found herself out in the garden endeavoring to teach the girls the game of Battledore and Shuttlecock.
Each girl would take a turn playing with Hannah as they held their small battledore rackets and did their best to hit the cork and feather shuttlecock back and forth without letting it fall.
After several rotations, between the heat of the sun and the running to hit a misaimed shuttlecock Hannah was rosy in the cheeks.
She was sure that no one else was around when she relieved herself of her bonnet and cap. She could feel her locks falling from their tight-pinned bun but she didn’t care much because of the fun she was having.
“Oh my dears,” Hannah said after a good round with Lady Caroline in which each lady was able to hit the shuttlecock four times, “I believe I need a rest. Why don’t you two practise together.”
The girls were happy to oblige and quickly went to hitting the shuttlecock back and forth while Hannah went to rest under the shade of a large tree.
Removing her fichu she dabbed at the perspiration that had collected around her hairline. She attempted to re-pin offending golden locks but it was of no use, so she just let all the pins out altogether.
A soft gentle breeze was blowing from time to time and it felt good to let it flow through her hair and cool the dampness on her neck.
Sitting in the grass under the tree she closed her eyes and listened to the joyous sound of the girls playing. It was not one she had heard in her own childhood and she rather relished it.
She reached for a book that she had left with a basket of afternoon snacks and a blanket. Leaning against the trunk of the tree, Hannah settled into reading some while the girls continued to enjoy the warmth of the sun and the game.
Lord Grimshaw had been hard at work at the west wing, working on the last of the exterior walls before moving to the roof.
It was back-breaking work and slow at that as each stone had to be fitted and placed. He hated to admit it was what he loved about it so much.
Sorely he had wished that he had completed the promised task before his wife’s death, but one always thinks there is enough time until it is all gone.
He was only momentarily distracted by the sound of the girls in the garden. From his perch on the scaffolding he could see their figures exiting the house into the back garden where Miss Jacobson proceeded to teach them a game.
He smiled to himself as he listened to the sound of the three of them laughing between the wooshes of the rackets.
Sebastian Grimshaw finished his afternoon pleasantly entertained by the sounds of their fun, as well as moments of secret study of their fun. Their happiness was infectious and he caught it all the way up on his high perch of the house.
“Miss Jacobson, Caroline won’t let me have a turn starting,” Grimshaw heard his youngest daughter whine.
They had been outside for several hours now and he suspected she was getting tired and cranky.
“Come let us all take a break for a while,” he heard Miss Jacobson’s reply. “I have some currant rolls from the kitchen and I will read to you some.”
Grimshaw turned from his wall and the sight before him caught his breath. There coming from under the shade of the tree was a Greek Goddess. She walked slowly to the edge of the foliage and laid out a blanket where the girls happily sat and selected items from a basket she had wisely brought.
Miss Jacobson took her own spot, letting her gown settle around her. Her golden hair was like flowing honey as it ran down her back, and with delicacy she opened her book and began to read.
Her voice was too soft to make out all the words but the picture before him was one he wasn’t sure he was ready to see.
There on the blanket sat Caroline as she picked and tied some wildflowers while Rebecca lay on her back looking to passing clouds. Miss Jacobson read in her animated way, sometimes even moving her free arm as she spoke the lines. It was a perfect picture of a family. It filled him with such joy and pained his heart all at the same time.
“There you are,” Abigail’s voice called, catching all three girls’ attention.
“It is almost supper time. You must come in and change,” she added.
“Oh, you’re right,” Hannah said, seeing the time on her waist watch. “Forgive me for keeping them so long. We got distracted making little forget-me-not crowns.”
Both girls held up their handiwork to their nurse before placing them on their own heads.
“I think mine is the best,” Caroline said.
“That’s not true. Mine is just as good, isn’t it, Abigail?”
Abigail looked to Hannah for help in this argument. Hannah simply shrugged that she would have no say in the matter.
Abigail assured Rebecca that they both had lovely crowns before shooing them into the house with a wave goodbye to their governess.
Hannah went to work shaking the crumbs off of the blanket, as well as any leftover discarded flowers, and folding it up to take inside. She would have to freshen up too and make ready for dinner.
She was humming softly to herself thinking on how perfect a day it had been as she came around a bend in the house. A gruff hand grabbed her by the arm and whipped her sharply around the corner and up against the cold stone wall.
The shock alone took her breath away and made her drop her belongings.
“You wicked vixen,” Mr. Poole’s voice said in a low growl.
“Mr. Poole,” Hannah’s words came out more in a breath. “What is the meaning of this? Remove your hands from me at once!”
He was gripping both of her arms now and pinning her against the wall with no chance of escape.
“You are quite the temptress,” he growled again, ignoring her struggles.
“I have no idea what you are talking about, Mr. Poole,” Hannah shot back with as much anger as she could muster through the fear.
He let go of one arm and with his hand grabbed a lock of golden hair, twisting it between his fingers. He held it up to his nose and breathed in deeply.
“I guessed you were a blonde,” he said, leaning in close to her. “But such fine silken hair like this,” he brushed her lock of hair all along his chin and lips. “I see now why you hid it. It could drive a man wild.”
Hannah closed her eyes and turned her head as his hot breath came down on her throat. She could feel the heat of his body n
early touching her, and smelled a distinct sour smell to his breath.
“I swear to you I will scream,” she said when he laid a brazen kiss on her neck.
He didn’t answer, simply produced a small knife. She opened her mouth in shock but he must have thought she was going to scream because he clamped a hand down on it. Through her wide blue eyes she watched the glint of sun reflect off the metal as he held it up to her face.
“I wouldn’t scream if I were you,” he said finally, letting her mouth go.
She obediently didn’t speak. Hannah didn’t even move, how could she with fear paralizing her to the spot.
He lifted up her lock again and this time cut the very last two inches of it off. He held his treasure up to his nose and smelled it again.
“To remember you by when it’s all over,” he said with a wicked grin.
Tears were flowing down Hannah’s cheeks now.
“Please,” she pleaded. “Please just leave me alone.”
He put a hand to her throat and squeezed.
“If you wanted to be left alone you should not have been so bewitching.”
“I have done nothing,” she whispered against his tightening hand. “I have encouraged you in no way. Please let me go.”
He seemed to think this over for a minute, hand still tight on her throat. Then he smiled wickedly and she knew that he was going to do whatever he wanted.
She struggled to scream against his grip when the sound of an approaching whistle froze him in his tracks.
He stepped back just as a gardener came around the corner. He started for a minute to see the two in such a dark and hidden alcove.
“Everything alright, Miss?” he asked, seeing the tears on Hannah’s cheeks.
“We are fine. Do you need something, Fredricks?” Mr. Poole said impatiently.
“Shouldn’t you be inside getting ready for dinner, David?” the older gentleman retorted back.
David looked from the gardener back to Hannah. With a dissatisfied scoff he left without another word.