by Jen Turano
Mr. Barclay and his wife had made the mistake many nouveau rich made in regard to Newport, or more specifically, Newport high society. They’d assumed that since they possessed a rather fine fortune made in the iron industry, they’d be welcomed with open arms.
When that hadn’t happened, and when not a single soul had shown up for the lavish ball Mrs. Barclay had thrown, they had not wanted to linger with their embarrassment. Because of that, Everett had been given the wonderful opportunity of acquiring a summer cottage for a more than reasonable price, and a summer cottage that was certain to increase in value—especially since Mrs. William Astor had decided that Newport was now the place to summer. That meant that the majority of high society in New York would soon be scrambling for their own cottages in Newport, if they hadn’t purchased one already, and that meant that Everett had made a very sound investment indeed.
With his mood steadily improving because nothing improved his mood more than proof he’d invested wisely, Everett headed up the steps of Seaview but then found himself staring at a door that remained stubbornly shut against him. Hoping there was not another disaster waiting for him on the other side of the door, he slowly let himself into Seaview, pausing on the threshold to get a sense of the atmosphere. Unfortunately, the only sense he came away with was that something was probably amiss since not a single person was in sight.
The faintest sound of people talking drew him down the long hallway, moving all the way to the very back of the cottage before he finally spotted what seemed to be his entire staff blocking his path. All of them were standing on tiptoes and craning their necks, and not a single person took note of him until he coughed rather loudly, drawing the attention of a maid. She nudged the maid standing in front of her, who turned and blinked before she nudged the person in front of her, and on it went until the staff suddenly parted straight down the middle and Mr. Macon began walking his way.
“Ah, lovely, another unexpected Mulberry,” his butler said as he stopped right next to Everett.
“What do you mean, another unexpected Mulberry, and it certainly shouldn’t be odd to see me here, since this is my residence, and . . . what is that sprinkled in your hair?”
“It’s flour, of course, and I’m perfectly aware of the fact you own Seaview, sir. However, since you were supposed to be escorting Miss Dixon home from some disastrous tennis debacle, I wasn’t expecting you for hours. As for why I said another Mulberry, your parents are here.”
“I thought they were in Paris.”
“They’ve apparently cut their trip around the world short.” Mr. Macon shook his head. “Unfortunately, they chose an inopportune time to descend on us.”
“Perhaps you should try explaining that a little more sufficiently.”
“I think it might be best if I simply showed you, sir. It’s a bit of a tricky situation to explain.”
Feeling less than reassured, Everett trudged after Mr. Macon, passing through the staff, all of whom were looking somewhat guilty. Before he could question the reason behind the looks though, Mr. Macon gestured some footmen out of the way, leaving Everett a clear path to the mud room. Waving Everett forward, Mr. Macon stepped aside. “After you.”
Knowing full well he’d come across as a complete coward if he refused to move another inch, Everett took a deep breath and stepped forward, coming to an abrupt halt when he found himself in a room completely covered in white. Glancing to the right, he found his mother and father standing close together, both of them gawking at something on the other side of the room.
Sending them a nod of acknowledgement, one they missed since they obviously hadn’t become aware of his presence yet, he switched his gaze to where his parents were gawking and found himself completely devoid of speech at the sight that met his eyes.
Elizabeth, Rosetta, and Thaddeus were standing still as statues, completely covered in a white, pasty substance, while Millie stood a few feet away from them, looking slightly water-logged, but with only a light dusting of flour spotting her clothing.
“What happened?” he managed to ask.
“Oh, Everett, thank goodness you’re here.” His mother, Dorothy Mulberry, hurried to his side and hugged him, something that was completely at odds with how she normally greeted him, which was giving him her hand to kiss. She stepped back. “You look a little peaked, dear. Have you not been sleeping well of late?”
“I’m fine, Mother, although sleep can be a little difficult to be had when one is chasing after three children. But my sleep-deprived life aside, what are you doing here? I thought you were intending to travel to India after you finished holidaying in Paris.”
His father, Fletcher Mulberry, joined them, shaking Everett’s hand and looking rather somber. “Your mother’s been having bad dreams about you, son. So many of them of late that we felt it might be for the best to abandon our travels and come home to make certain you’re well.”
“You crossed an entire ocean because Mother’s having . . . dreams?” Everett asked slowly.
“And it’s a good thing we did,” Dorothy said before Fletcher could speak. “Why, it’s clear you’re in trouble, son, but no need to fear. I’m here now, and I’ve already taken care of one order of business for you.” She turned her head and narrowed her eyes on Millie. “I’ve dismissed that horrible nanny, and I shall take it upon myself to find you someone more . . . suitable.”
“You’ve dismissed Millie?” he asked, glancing to Millie, who was nodding her head and looking rather resigned. Although . . .
His gaze sharpened on her. “Good heavens, Millie, is that a lump on your head?”
Not allowing Millie an opportunity to reply, his mother stepped directly in front of him, blocking Millie from sight.
“Why do you keep calling the nanny by her given name? It’s hardly in keeping with the expected code of conduct for someone of your social status.”
Everett frowned. “Interestingly enough, you’re not the first person to voice that very same thought to me today. I must admit to you here and now, though, that I’m finding the unmitigated snobbery I’ve encountered so much of late to be completely unacceptable.”
“Forgive me, dear, but it almost sounds as if you’re accusing me of being a snob.” Dorothy craned her neck and then, for some peculiar reason, nodded toward Mr. Macon. “In my opinion, I’m no more of a snob than your butler.”
“Pardon me, Mrs. Mulberry,” Mr. Macon began, “but I may not be the best example to point out in this particular instance, considering I freely admit I’m a huge snob.”
“You’re not exactly helping the situation, Mr. Macon,” Everett said before he looked back at his mother. “But, snobbery aside, to answer your question of why I call Millie by her given name, do you not recall the letter I sent you regarding Oliver and Miss Peabody?”
“Of course I recall it, and while we’re on the subject of dear Oliver, I hope you remembered to pass on my best wishes to him.”
“I actually thought you might not have paid close attention to the circumstances I laid out in that letter, and because of that, I have yet to pass on your best wishes.”
Dorothy’s brow creased. “What circumstances?”
“That Harriet worked in a hat shop when Oliver first met her, and that she lived in a tenement slum with a nanny, Miss Longfellow, and an actress, Miss Plum.”
“I fully remember that from your letter, Everett, but you also wrote that Miss Peabody turned out to be far more than a hat girl, which is why I was completely delighted to learn of the upcoming union.”
“Would you not have been delighted if Harriet hadn’t discovered she was more than a hat girl?”
“Are you going to accuse me of unmitigated snobbery again if I admit to that?”
Everett smiled. “Probably, but to get back to the point I was going to make, the Miss Longfellow I was speaking about is none other than Millie, and . . . not only is she good friends with Miss Peabody, she’s also wonderful friends with Mrs. Charles Hart, a lady who, as
luck would have it, has also come to Newport for the summer festivities, and . . .”
“I know who Abigail Hart is,” Dorothy interrupted. “But . . . didn’t you also write that Abigail had a hand in getting Oliver and Harriet betrothed?”
Everett refused to wince. “I might have written something like that.”
Turning on her heel, Dorothy marched over to join Everett’s father, who’d retreated a safe distance from most of the flour. “We’ve arrived just in the nick of time, my dear. It’s clear Abigail Hart is up to something, which means I’ll be having a little talk with her soon. But for now”—she sent a single nod to Millie—“you need to go and fetch your belongings. I won’t suffer you under my son’s roof another second, not when it’s just been made clear you have nefarious ideas on your mind.”
Millie stuck her hand in her pocket, pulled out a dictionary that seemed rather soggy, and began flipping through the pages, the wetness of the paper giving her a great deal of difficulty. She finally stopped flipping and ran her finger down a page. “Nefarious, nefarious, ah . . . here it is.” She lifted her head. “Honestly, that’s a bit harsh, Mrs. Mulberry, because I can assure you that I have absolutely nothing of a wicked or evil nature on my mind.”
Everett wasn’t certain but he thought his father let out a snort of laughter, until his mother elbowed the poor man in the ribs, which had him then letting out a grunt.
“Really, Fletcher, this is hardly the time for amusement,” Dorothy said before she nodded at Millie again. “There’s no need for you to linger. As I said before, your services are no longer wanted here.”
Millie stuck the dictionary back in her pocket. “Since I don’t make it a habit to linger where I’m not wanted, I’ll just be off to fetch my bag. Although arrangements will need to be made to deliver those trunks Abigail—”
“Miss Longfellow shouldn’t be dismissed from her position because nothing about today was her fault. It was mine.”
Everett found himself completely taken aback when none other than Elizabeth stepped forward, her stepping hampered by the fact her shoes were covered in paste and kept sticking to the floor. She finally made it across the room and came to a stop in front of him.
“You can’t dismiss Miss Longfellow, Uncle Everett. It was my doing, all of this.” She waved a hand at the mess, her siblings, and then to Millie, the waving sending a glob of paste up to attach itself to the ceiling.
Pulling his attention away from the glob that was certainly going to drop soon, Everett caught Elizabeth’s eye. “I’m not exactly certain how this could possibly be your fault, when you’re looking far worse than Millie is.”
Elizabeth drew in a breath before she straightened her spine. “Miss Longfellow annoyed me because . . . well, it doesn’t really matter. But because of that, I decided I was going to make her leave once and for all. I filled up a wash basin with water and set it on top of a door I left cracked open just the slightest bit. I knew Miss Longfellow would eventually come in my room to check on me, especially since I made sure Rose heard me crying, or what she thought was crying.”
She frowned, or at least Everett thought that was what she was doing. It was a little difficult to tell considering the paste on her face had begun to dry, limiting her movements. “I didn’t think about the basin falling off the door, which was a very silly thing for me not to think about because it smashed down on Miss Longfellow’s head, and . . . I thought I’d killed her.”
“Rose and I got scared when we thought Miss Longfellow was dead, and that’s why we ran away,” Thaddeus added, sending Everett one of the most pathetic looks he’d ever seen, the look accentuated when a glob of paste dripped from his chin. “That was very bad of us.”
“And I didn’t want Miss Longfellow to be dead,” Rosetta chimed in. “She tried to save me from the peacocks.”
“You ran into trouble with the peacocks?” Everett asked.
“No, but Miss Longfellow didn’t know that, and she came running to get me . . . and she got a lot of pecks from the peacocks. But you can’t let her go, you just can’t, because she calls me . . . Rose.”
Everett leaned over and caught Rosetta’s eye. “You like Rose over Rosetta?”
“I do, but Thaddeus doesn’t like being called Thad, only Thaddeus, even though it’s a huge mouthful to say all the time. He’d like to be called Chip, but don’t start calling him that, because Elizabeth will just get mad again.”
Amusement immediately shot through Everett, until it was quickly replaced with guilt when the reality of what Rose had admitted sunk in. He’d been responsible for the children for months now, but not once had he even thought about asking them what names they preferred to be called. Millie had discovered that important information in the span of a few days, which . . .
“So you really can’t dismiss her, Uncle Everett,” Elizabeth said, interrupting his thoughts. “If anyone needs to be punished, it should be me, and only me.”
Millie was suddenly in motion, and she didn’t stop until she reached Elizabeth’s side. “While I find it rather dear that you’d want to take the blame, Elizabeth, I want it known here and now that none of this is anyone’s fault but mine.”
“I started it,” Elizabeth argued.
“Of course you did, darling, but you see, I threw down the gauntlet by winning the game of walking the plank, and then winning the delightful business of tying all of you up. I knew full well that you weren’t done trying to get rid of me, and I should have known you’d do the old bucket of water over a door sometime soon.” She smiled and rubbed her head. “If I’d been more diligent in my duties as a nanny, I’d have shown you the proper way to go about this particular prank—speaking of which, if you’ll look at that door, you’ll see a wonderful example of how it’s supposed to be done. A short length of rope, a nail and a hook in the ceiling, and there you have it, a marvelous way of making sure this prank goes off effortlessly while not leaving the victim senseless.”
She let out a sigh. “In hindsight, though, I might have overdone it by adding that flour, which means before I depart for Abigail’s cottage I need to tidy up this room.”
“If you’re moving out, I’m moving with you,” Thaddeus said, slipping up beside Millie and taking hold of her hand.
Elizabeth was the next to move. She reached out and put her arm around Millie’s middle, leaning in to rest her head against Millie’s side. “I’m coming too,” she said as she snuggled closer right as Millie smiled and placed a quick kiss on top of Elizabeth’s paste-covered head.
Everett’s heart immediately took to the unusual act of lurching, no doubt due to the sight of Millie’s understated affection. Ladies of society always made a big production out of kissing their children when company was present, but Millie . . . Her kiss had been the real thing, a show of regard for a child who’d caused her no small amount of trouble.
Expecting Rose to throw her support in next and proclaim she was moving out as well if Millie got dismissed, Everett looked around the room and finally spotting her moving up to the glass door, staring at peacocks that were bobbing this way and that, as if they were trying to figure out how to get into the room.
“Rose, no,” he called when he saw her reach for the doorknob, but it was too late.
Complete and utter mayhem took over as the birds flocked inside, scattering and stirring up all the flour that had settled to the floor. His staff soon flooded into the room, their presence adding another layer of chaos to the situation as they tried to corral the peacocks. Rose was shrieking at the top of her lungs as the peacocks ran around her, but then Millie scooped the little girl up and bolted out the door that led outside. To Everett’s horror, all the peacocks bolted right after her.
Rushing through that same door only a few seconds later, he stumbled to a stop when a small hand grabbed onto his and gave it a tug. Turning, he looked down and found Elizabeth standing next to him, the same Elizabeth who had never once in the time he’d taken responsibility for her and
her siblings, touched him.
“Just wait” was all she said before she smiled.
Forcing his attention away from Elizabeth, even though he found the sight of her smiling completely endearing, he looked to where Millie had come to a stop, his breath hitching in his throat when the peacocks began surrounding her.
“Trust me,” Elizabeth said.
Not taking his eyes off Millie, who was still holding Rose, he itched to move forward, especially when Millie whispered something in Rose’s ear and then, to his complete dismay, lowered the little girl to the ground.
“Is she mad?” he asked.
“She dumped water, along with flour, over the heads of three innocent children, Uncle Everett,” Elizabeth said with a snort. “Of course she’s mad, but . . . she’s somewhat brilliant as well because nobody else was able to best us at our own games.”
“And she’s very nice, Uncle Everett,” Thaddeus added as he joined them. “Even if she told me I couldn’t try riding a peacock.”
“Peacocks aren’t exactly pets, Thaddeus.”
“Tell that to the peacocks,” Elizabeth said with a grin when a peacock moved right up to Rose and nuzzled her with its beak.
Everett returned the grin, but then felt his grin fade when Thaddeus moved closer to him and blinked big eyes his way.
“Since Rose has some pets now, do you think I might be able to get just one . . . like a dog?”
“You want a dog?” Everett repeated.
Nodding, Thaddeus began scratching at the paste that covered his arm. “It wouldn’t cause you any trouble, Uncle Everett. I would take care of it, but . . . I would want it to be a boy dog.” He started scratching his other arm. “I’m always around girls these days.”
It was telling, that statement, and Everett realized in that moment, as the sun beat on his head and the sound of peacocks cooing instead of screeching filled the air, that he’d been horribly negligent when it came to Thaddeus, as well as Elizabeth and Rose. “I wouldn’t be opposed to the idea of getting a dog,” he said before he could stop himself.