by Jo Ann Brown
Maris nodded, wishing she could speak as easily of God and His will. Are You there? Can I reach out to You as I once did? She longed to feel God in her life again.
“When would you like them to be ready to join you, Lady Susanna?” she asked.
“Now if possible.”
Every inch of her rebelled at losing even one of “her” children, but again Maris submerged her feelings. She bent to pick up a toy, positive she could not conceal how her eyes flooded with hot tears.
Looking at the floor, she replied, “It will take me a few minutes to pack their things. If you don’t want to wait, my lady, I can have them sent to your house.”
“I will wait.”
“Yes, my lady.” She gave a half curtsy before rushing toward the stairs leading to the night nursery. As she went up, she dashed away the silly tears. The girls would be on the other side of the cove. It was not as if she would never see them again.
Though it felt like that.
The upstairs nursery was quiet, and she heard distant thunder. She glanced out a window. Ugly clouds blotted out the sunshine. Trees whipped, their colorful leaves scattering. At that rate, the branches would be bare by nightfall.
She wrapped her arms around her as she dropped to sit on one of the small beds. Molly’s. More tears leaked from Maris’s eyes. Two pieces of her heart were being ripped away.
Until that moment, she had never guessed how deeply she longed for a home and a family of her own. Truly of her own, not one borrowed for a time. She had no yearning for a grand house as her parents had. She had seen the dark side of such a life. She wanted a life she could share with a man who loved her and would delight in their children as much as she did. A man who would have time for their children, as her father never had because he was too worried about the next rung on the ladder leading up to the heights of Society where he longed to be.
A man like Arthur.
She pushed herself up from the bed and found a wooden box. Trying not to make a mess of everything in her haste, she put the twins’ clothing and favorite toys in the crate. No matter how she focused on making sure she did not forget a single item, she could not escape how want-witted she was being.
Arthur would leave for the justice of the peace’s house in a few days. Once he was there, he planned to ask Lady Gwendolyn to be his wife. Did he love the lady? It did not matter, because it was a match both families desired. He was the heir, and that was his duty.
Knowing that and repeating it over and over in her head did not lessen her sorrow. Maris was unsure when she had begun to fall in love with Arthur. She must keep her feelings a secret. She did not want to burden him more. Nor did she want to hear him say he did not love her.
Maris picked up the box, which was heavier than she had expected. With careful steps, she went down to the day nursery. She paused in the doorway. Lady Susanna was on her knees, watching Bertie place another block on a tall tower. The lady would be an excellent mother, and Maris must put aside her own grief and envy that Lady Susanna had the family and the love she longed for.
She must be strong. If she fell apart, she would frighten the children with her tears. She should be grateful the twins would not witness how her heart shattered when Arthur proposed to another woman.
Keeping her voice to a cheerful chirp, she said, “I believe this is everything.” She set the box on the floor and went to ring for a footman.
Venton stepped into the nursery before she could pick up the bell. He must have been waiting in the corridor. With a nod to her, he picked up the box as if it weighed nothing. He told Lady Susanna it would be waiting in the carriage, then left.
Lady Susanna stood and smoothed her lovely gown. “Before we leave, I wanted to discuss your place in my father’s household, especially now that the number of children in the nursery is lower.”
Maris stiffened. Was she going to be dismissed? Who would watch over Bertie? He and Arthur had grown close, but Arthur had many duties that often took him far from the house. Bertie needed someone with him when nightmares stalked him or he wanted a lap to cuddle on after he scratched his finger.
That and more raced through her head, but she said, “Of course, my lady.”
“I want to be sure you never worry about having a position here in Cothaire, Maris. I spoke with my family, and they agree with me wholeheartedly. For as long as you wish to work at Cothaire, we would be grateful to have you in our household. The work may not be in the nursery after Arthur is married, but I will make sure Lady Gwendolyn knows how important it is to us that you have a position here commensurate with your station.”
“Thank you, my lady.” What else could she say to such a generous offer? She could not admit the idea of remaining at Cothaire after Arthur married was abhorrent.
Lady Susanna’s smile never wavered, and Maris knew the lady believed she had done her a great favor. It would have been, save every day brought them closer to the time when Arthur brought his new wife and her children to Cothaire. Lady Gwendolyn would want her own nurse for her children, and Maris would be given work in the kitchen or as an upper maid, the tasks her parents had struggled to keep her from having to take.
“Lulu, Moll,” Lady Susanna called. “It is time for us to go.”
“Go! Go! Go!” chanted Lulu as she bounced around the nursery.
“Say goodbye to Maris,” the lady continued.
That stopped the little girl in midstep. “Bye Maris? No bye Maris.”
Before Lulu started crying, which was sure to send the rest of the children into tears, Maris took her tiny hands. “Lady Susanna and Captain Nesbitt want you to stay at their new house. I have packed your toys and your pretty dresses. Go with Lady Susanna, and we will come to visit you.”
“Soon?” Lulu asked, her bottom lip quivering.
“Very soon.” Maris was glad when the lady confirmed it.
Lulu was obviously not satisfied with that indefinite answer. “Tonight?”
“Very soon,” she repeated before she kissed each twin’s cheek. “Be good girls.”
“Go with Susu,” announced Molly, amazing her because the little girl seldom spoke. Had it been because she missed Lady Susanna?
When the lady held out her hands to the twins, they clasped them. They did not look back as they walked out.
Bertie grasped Maris around the knees and moaned, “No go, Maris.”
She was unsure if he meant he did not want the twins to leave or he wanted to remain with her or he feared she would abandon him, as well. Kneeling, she drew both boys into her arms. She put her head against their soft hair as she let them weep the tears she must not cry.
Chapter Twelve
Maris dropped to sit on the window bench and looked around the day nursery. She was tempted to blow out the lamp and seek her bed. The children had been rambunctious all day. The return of Lady Susanna and Captain Nesbitt yesterday, combined with the twins departing, had left her as unsettled as they were. Bertie and Gil had bickered, something they had never done. The more she tried to quiet the boys, the louder they got. She could not take them outside because cold rain had begun with a thunderstorm last night and did not let up until long after dark tonight. It was as if the heavens mourned, too, that their small family was broken apart.
Arthur had not come near the nursery, and she had not spoken with him since the brief conversation in the hallway after the Nesbitts returned. When Irene brought the children’s supper, she mentioned how sorry she felt for Lord Trelawney, who had ridden out at first light in the rain. Maris was curious where he had gone and why he had not mentioned anything about going out to her.
Why should he keep you informed of his whereabouts? asked her mind’s most reasonable voice.
That voice was annoying, but right. She had no claim on his time, and she should not expect Arthur to come and entertain the children with his silly stories and games that seemed to make sense only to the males of the species. Still, she had been hopeful he would give her a look-in tonig
ht, because he had not the previous evening. Irene had informed her that the family had gathered to dine last night and had spent long hours at the table, talking and laughing.
Finally, when nothing else worked to calm the boys, Maris had resorted to having warm water carried up to the night nursery. She bathed each child, singing softly as she did. That had soothed them enough so she could persuade them to go to sleep after their prayers, two stories and four more songs.
She needed to repair the damage to the day nursery before she could go to sleep herself. It looked as if a tempest had passed through. Toys were scattered everywhere. Not a single one remained on any shelf or in the toy box. Only one book sat on the shelf between the windows. Anything that could be spilled, smeared or crushed during supper was spilled, smeared and crushed. The tabletop was a bizarre pattern of dried food, half of it glued to the wood with jam.
She leaned her head against the cool glass and sought any remnants of energy within her. To delay picking up the toys and cleaning the table would be foolish, because that would mean she must rise earlier in the morning. Maybe tomorrow would be sunny, and she could take them out to the garden and let them run about until they grew so exhausted they would happily take a nap.
She closed her eyes, telling herself it was for a moment. She let her thoughts drift, and they pulled her toward Arthur. He had not said he wanted answers about Mr. Cranford’s death to share with Lady Gwendolyn when he saw her, but Maris guessed that was why he pushed himself relentlessly.
Her thoughts shifted to when she and Arthur were alone, and the barriers of class temporarily fell away. She smiled as she remembered how close they had come to kissing. She treasured the memory, knowing it must never happen again.
“Maris...” His voice was so real she longed to put her arms out and gather him close. “Maris...”
Her eyes opened, and she saw the face from her dreams in front of her. Her gaze traced the lines drawn by wind and worry in Arthur’s tanned skin. Dark whiskers shadowed his jaw and accented his lips. His hair was wet and curled across his forehead. When she reached up to push a strand from his eyes, her skin against his sent a delightful shock through her.
This was no dream.
It was real.
With a gasp, Maris sat. She had not realized she had curled up on the window bench as fatigue pressed upon her.
Arthur smiled. “I am sorry if I startled you, but I was afraid you would move in your sleep and tumble off to the floor.”
“Th-th-thank you,” she stammered, as she came to her feet. “You are back.”
Oh, this was going from bad to worse. First she had brazenly touched him as she had longed to do in her dreams. Now she was spouting the obvious.
His smile dropped away. “Yes, and none the wiser.”
“You found out nothing?”
“I spent a long day in the cold rain, and I know no more about either Cranny or the children than I did when I got into the saddle this morning.”
“I am sorry, Arthur. I am sure you chased every clue as far as you could.”
“Your faith in me is invigorating. Thank you, Maris.” He glanced around and chuckled tersely. “It would appear you had a busy day.”
“The boys were on edge, and they were not satisfied until they had pulled every toy out. I doubt they played with a single one.”
“They miss Lulu and Molly.”
Maris nodded, her throat suddenly tight.
“You miss them, too,” he said.
“Yes, I do. I knew from the beginning my time with them could be cut short at any moment. Knowing and having that moment actually come are two different things.”
“If you want me to talk to Susanna about allowing the children to come back—”
“No!” Her face heated as she added in a calmer tone, “King Solomon found it a challenge to solve the problem of a single child and two women who claimed to be its mother.”
“And I am not as wise as King Solomon.” He sat on the window bench she had vacated and locked his fingers around one knee. “I am sure Susanna would be willing to let the girls come and play with the boys. Maybe once a week.”
“We have already spoken of that. After she and Captain Nesbitt are settled in their new house and the twins have had a chance to adjust to another new home, she plans to bring them here regularly. As well, I will take Bertie and Gil to Lady Susanna’s house to see the girls. Mrs. Trelawney will have Toby join the others whenever she can.”
“It would appear you have solved a problem that nearly confounded Solomon.”
Maris did not have to force her smile. “I am happy for Lulu and Molly. They adore your sister and her husband, who love them in return. How much better it is for the girls to have a doting family! It is just...just...” Her words came out in a rush. “Poor Bertie will be here alone when Gil is with Lady Caroline and the baby.”
“You make that sound like a terrible fate.”
“It is. I know because I was an only child.”
“That must have been lonely.”
“My parents arranged for me to spend time with another girl so I had some companionship close to my own age. We became bosom bows. Unfortunately, some friendships cannot endure as we change from children to adults.”
“Yet you think of her often.”
“Is it obvious?” She sighed. “I wonder how she fares. Has she married? Does she have a family of her own?”
“If you were to write to her...”
“That is not possible,” she said before she realized what she was revealing with those four words. “Please don’t ask why.”
“As you wish, but I am curious if it has to do with the sadness that dims your eyes far too often.”
“It does, but do not ask me any more.”
“I will respect your request.” He shook his head, making that stubborn lock fall into his eyes again. He pushed it away as he said, “Though I have trusted you with my deepest secret.”
“I know.”
He set himself on his feet. “If you change your mind, Maris, you are welcome to invite your friend to Cothaire.”
She was astounded at the generous offer he was making to a servant. “Thank you, but I will not change my mind.” Not as long as I remember how betrayed I felt when Belinda turned away as her father was tossing me out. “Even if I did, her visit would be inconvenient for everyone.” She did not explain her friend was a member of the Polite World, because that would elicit more questions she did not want to answer.
“Shall we change the subject?” Arthur asked, his eyes beginning to twinkle.
“Yes.”
He laughed at the relief in her voice. Asking her to wait where she stood, he went into the hallway. He returned almost immediately with a bolt of bright green fabric that looked like the scraps of silk Mrs. Hitchens had given her to make doll’s clothing.
Placing the material in her hands, he said, “I did not expect there to be much of this available, but I thought you could put it to good use.”
“It is beautiful, Arthur.” She balanced the bolt on her left arm while she stroked the fabric with her right hand. “The girls will look charming in it, and they will be delighted to be able to dress like their dolls.”
He put his hand on the fabric. Even though she knew it was impossible, heat seemed to spread from his palm through the layers of silk to where her fingers touched it. “I did not bring this for Lulu and Molly.”
“The boys will not want to wear—”
“I did not bring it for them, either.” His voice remained even, but she sensed strong passions beneath his everyday words.
“Then...?” Her eyes rose to lock with his gaze. “Arthur, I cannot accept such a gift. This fabric is not for a nurse.”
“Why not? You considered it appropriate for the children.”
“They are your father’s wards. Their position in Society is higher than a nurse’s.”
“But it is the perfect color to match your eyes, and you would look stunning in
a gown made from it.”
She pushed the fabric against his chest, and his arms came up to take it. “That is neither here nor there. I cannot accept such a gift from you, Arthur. It would give the wrong impression.”
“It is not only from me. My sisters asked that I bring you this. They thought you could make yourself a gown for when you bring the children to the New Year’s Eve gathering.”
She looked from his earnest face to the beautiful fabric. “Lady Caroline and Lady Susanna asked you to bring it to me?”
“Are you suggesting I am not being honest with you?” He put the growl in his voice that had persuaded Bertie that Arthur was a bear.
Laughing, Maris said, “I know better, but I am overwhelmed.”
“Does that mean you will take the fabric and use it for yourself?”
She desperately wanted to agree. “No, Arthur.”
“What?”
“Arthur, you have to look at the situation from my point of view.” Sensing the frustration roiling through him, she clasped her hands in front of her so she would not reach out to take his. She swallowed hard because the next words she must say tasted bitter. “What would Lady Gwendolyn think if she learned you had given me such a gift?”
“I told you it is also from my sisters.”
“Even so, Lady Gwendolyn could be hurt and humiliated. I know you don’t want that.”
Reluctantly, he nodded. “You are right, Maris. You always think of others before yourself, but this once, I wish you would think of yourself. You are important to my family, and we only intended to thank you.” A sad smile creased his face. “You don’t need to remind me where good intentions can lead one.” He looked around the day nursery. “Do you want help cleaning up this mess?”
“No, I am fine, thank you.”
“Then I should bid you good night. I will see you tomorrow at church.”
“Yes.” She hated how they sounded like the most casual of acquaintances. “Good night, Arthur.”
He nodded and walked out of the nursery with the beautiful green silk under his arm.
When she was sure he was far enough away that he could not hear her, she whispered, “Thank you for being kind. That is one of the reasons I love you.”