“Your father’s?” She could just see his figure from the corner of her eye. Dominic didn’t turn to look at her and his bored, supercilious tone in direct contrast to the stiffness in his shoulders. His body was strung as tight as a bowstring.
“No, my mother’s.” She set the vest to the side, along with the iron. She picked up her apron, the one with the singed strings, and dampened its entirety with starch. “She was married with two young sons when my father came to her house with his wagon. And after she spoke with him for a few moments, she had this notion to go with him…to leave her children forever. Her husband had taken the boys to visit his brother, and she was home alone. So she left them.”
“Your father told you this?”
Mia was glad he managed to keep disbelief out of his voice. When a man abandoned his family, it was looked upon as a shame, a dishonor but not outside the realm of possibilities. When a woman left her children, the idea was almost incomprehensible. A woman’s entire being was focused on motherhood. Only an unnatural monster could abandon her family.
“No. We spent one winter with my aunt and uncle when I was around ten years old. Before we took to the road in the spring, I asked my aunt about her.”
“That was wrong of her,” Dominic replied stiffly, no doubt thinking of his own anger and fury of his own father’s betrayal.
“I don’t think so. I was not even walking when she left my father and me. I don’t know what she looks like or if she can sing or what her favorite color is. I think my aunt was assuring me that I was not the cause of her abandonment. There was some suggestion that she wasn’t right in the head.”
“Certainly,” Dominic agreed. “No sane woman tosses over her family to run off with a tinker.”
Mia smiled tightly, ignoring the sting of him knowing that she was the bastard daughter of both a tinker and a mad adulteress. She couldn’t be certain which parent Dominic thought was the least distasteful.
“I now rarely think about her, but I do wonder about my brothers,” Mia continued. “I wonder if I look at all like them, if we have the same laugh or if they too hate pears. Are they even both still alive or has an accident or illness taken them away? Are they giants that tower over their little sister and pick fights in taverns or are they mild-mannered gentleman who never dirty their hands? Have I passed them on the street or at a fair and never even realized my own kin was within an arm’s reach? Have they immigrated to America or even New South Wales? If we ever meet, would they be glad to see me, their lost half-sister or hate me because I remind them of their mother’s terrible actions and how horribly her choices must have affected them and their father?”
Mia turned her head to look at him directly, her wide blue eyes clashing with his dark ones.
“But her actions had nothing to do with me or them. Her faults are all her own.” Hoping that she had not overstepped her bounds as servant, Mia began gathering the ironed clothes carefully. “I’ll just take these inside while the iron reheats.”
Dominic didn’t reply, but he walked over and took vest and shirts from her. The back of his hand brushed hers twice - lightly as if it were accidental. She watched him walk back to the cottage, his arms stiffly holding the clothes so that he didn’t ruin her ironing efforts. Her fingers tingled where they had touched and there was a curious ache in her heart, but she ignored both sensations as she picked up the still too cool iron and began again.
Chapter 9
“We don’t need a crumble, Lettice. Truly.”
“Nonsense. It’s the least I could do after you kept William entertained all afternoon. And cleaned the cottage! John will be so pleased when he comes home.” The blonde curls that framed Lettice’s wide smile trembled as they crested the hill. “And we kept a crumble for ourselves too. We can’t eat both, can we, William? Mummy is already twice the size of Papa and that blackberry crumble will not help.”
The red-headed toddler didn’t answer but his short, sturdy legs marched along to keep up with his mother’s waddling steps.
“And you don’t feed that man enough, anyway. Don’t deprive him. Let him have a pudding once in a while.” Lettice’s green eyes squinted into slits as she wrinkled up her nose playfully. “We already know he’s not enjoying anything else.”
“He never complains about my cooking,” Mia said, holding firmly to William’s little sweaty hand in case he slipped.
“Oh, that cottage is worse than I remembered,” Lettice said in some dismay as the cottage came into view. “That roof needs to be repaired before winter. Not a flower to be seen nor a vegetable garden to keep you fed. I hope it’s a bit more hospitable on the inside. No wonder your Mr. Attwood is always gallivanting about the countryside.”
“I think its lovely,” Mia protested. “Well, not lovely but it’s in a very desirable location. Fresh water from the spring and a river within a few yards? It’s a veritable paradise to me.”
Most people would have thought the cottage cramped and dark, but Mia had been raised in a third of the space. Having even that hole of a room to herself was the most privacy she’d ever been afforded. The thought of managing a garden when she had no experience in farming was more alarming than the idea of none at all.
“Well, it’s no wonder he came to church this morning. The man must be nearly daft with boredom.” Lettice chuckled to herself. “Though the pews would have been a little more crowded if all the girls knew he’d be attending today. Reverend Martin could have thrown out his sermon on pride and preached on lust instead.”
Mia had the suspicion that Reverend Martin had indeed prepared to deliver a different sermon before catching sight of Dominic among his parishioners. His sermon on pride was not nearly as polished as his usual Sunday messages and he seemed to address Dominic more often than any other attendee.
“William, watch your step. I don’t want to fish you out of the water,” Lettice warned as they stepped off the main road and came to the foot bridge that spanned the creek. “At least this bridge is sturdy. Though if it collapsed, you could leap the creek if you must. Not in my present condition, of course. I can’t jump higher than a field mouse now. But as I was saying, you have to know how to keep a man content. And, while this may be insulting, your best talents are not in the kitchen.”
“Yes, well, my talent in the area which you are currently obsessed are untested,” Mia replied drolly. “And your talents there are why you now are larger than your husband. I have no interest in sharing that rotund condition in nine months’ time.”
Lettice trilled out a laugh that made her son squint up at her in annoyance. “Reverend Martin says you’re the cleverest girl in the valley and now I don’t doubt it. Any other girl would have lost all good sense – and a few other things – over that man at this point.”
Mia didn’t reply. As Lettice said, every girl found Mr. Attwood attractive, but Mia wasn’t one who would lose her head over a handsome face. Instead, her sensibilities were being tested by a million moments that had nothing to do with his appearance. He was the first man of her acquaintance who was interested in what she knew; far too many suitors had been only keen to display their own intelligence and interests. Dominic Attwood had a careless kindness about him including his continued employment of Mrs. Marwood despite Mia’s hand healing weeks ago. Despite complaining about his family, he wrote posted letters to them weekly and referenced them often. He seemed especially fond of his eldest sister, Venetia, though that could only be because they were the closest in age.
“Is he home now?” Lettice asked, undeterred by Mia’s silence.
“He’s likely off riding.”
“Oh, perhaps he’s just come home – slightly sweaty. He’ll be only in his shirt sleeves on this hot summer day. Maybe he’ll be so warm that he has to dunk his head in the water trough and the water will drip down his front and…oh, hello, sir.”
Mia was hissing at Lettice to keep her voice down when Dominic appeared in the doorway, fully attired but still looking far too handso
me for anyone’s good. Thoroughly humiliated, Mia cast a furious look at Lettice whose face remained pleasantly blank as if they were just discussing the falling price of beets or the latest bonnet fashions and not speculating on how Mia’s employer would appear in soaking wet linen. Then the audacious woman had the temerity to slowly peruse Dominic’s form from the top of his golden head to his well-shined boots.
Dominic didn’t seem to notice Lettice’s ogling. Perhaps he was accustomed to such blatant female interest in London.
“William and I better be off. It’s black over Bill’s mother and we don’t want to be caught in it. Good evening, sir,” Lettice said with a flirtatious smile before turning around and starting off for the road again.
“No, I stay with Auntie Me.” William clasped tighter hold of Mia’s hand before burying his face in her skirts. His mumbled words struggled to be heard from the layers of cloth. “You go, Mama.”
“Come along, Willie.” Lettice gave her progeny an exasperated look before grabbing William’s hand in an attempt to pull him along behind her.
“No!” William yelped and latched onto Mia’s skirt with two pudgy hands, nearly unbalancing her.
“Young man,” Dominic’s voice authoritatively interrupted. “Gentlemen do not behave in this fashion.”
The boy peaked out from Mia’s skirts, glared at Dominic mutinously, and stuck his thumb in his mouth just after muttering, “No, I with Auntie Me.”
Lettice cast a look heavenward before heaving a great sigh and picking the boy up. William didn’t argue or squirm, but the corners of his mouth turned fiercely down as he peered over his shoulder. His mother carried him back over the bridge, his fiery red curls blazing in the light of the afternoon sun.
“The boy likes you,” Dominic said as he moved aside to let Mia pass him and enter the cottage. “And no wonder. You two are the only ones who have ever gainsaid me to my face.”
“Other than your sisters.” Mia said with a laugh, glad that William’s rare show of defiance had distracted Dominic from Lettice’s humiliating conversation.
“Sisters don’t signify. They are a category unto themselves.”
“Children usually are too.” Mia set the hamper on the stove and untied her bonnet, leaving the beige ribbons dangling. She carefully lifted a cast-iron pan from the hamper’s depths and set it on the stove top. “I lived with Lettice and her family after Granny Newcombe’s cottage was sold. I believe it was two months? Now that I live here, William misses me a bit.”
“Well, anyone would.” Dominic had followed her to the stove, and he peered over her shoulder, his breath stirred the short hairs on the back of her neck. She resisted the urge to shiver. “What is that?”
“Blackberry crumble. Lettice insisted you needed pudding tonight. I took William berry picking while she napped and then she prepared this. I brought berries home for tomorrow’s breakfast too. There may be more of them ripe next week if the birds don’t get to them first.”
“Little wonder why William misses you.” Dominic reached around her to sneak a hand into the hamper and pluck a huge blackberry from the second bowl she hadn’t yet removed.
“He’ll forget about me soon enough. I was a nursemaid for nine months years ago. Those children sobbed when I left but if I saw them now, they wouldn’t even remember me.” Her voice was sharper than she intended. But Dominic was very much like those little charges long ago; he relied on her now but in a few short months, he wouldn’t recognize her on the street.
“Hmmm, these are sweet.” Dominic popped three more blackberries in his mouth, showing an appreciation that he usually reserved for Mrs. Marwood’s cottage pie.
“Don’t go eating them all or we’ll have none for your porridge tomorrow.” Mia warned. Dominic held up his hands to prove he hadn’t pilfered any more, his right hand’s index finger and thumb stained maroon from the juice. William may have plucked the blackberries with a firmer hand than needed.
“Well, while you were berry picking, I thought this cottage needed some cheering.” Dominic pointed to the bunch of wildflowers jumbled haphazardly in an old vinegar bottle that had been gathering dust in the cottage since before their occupation. “I know you like to take bits of every plant imaginable and throw them into the pot but I’m begging you not to destroy this bouquet. I’ll refrain from consuming all the berries and you’ll leave my greenery unplucked.”
“Of course not, sir.” He obviously had an affinity for violet; nearly all the jumbled flowers were in various shades of purple. Mia noticed he had placed some large sprigs of wild carrot as filler between the larger blooms. After spying foxglove and belladonna among the mallow and thistles, she added firmly, “We are both agreed to not eat any of the bouquet.”
Her tone must have been alarmed enough that he frowned at the innocent-looking blooms. “Are they poisonous?”
“A little.”
“Then it’s a relief that I didn’t become a bit more productive and attempt to stew them myself.” He laughed at his near-accidental poisoning. “But I will definitely impress you with this…”
He rocked the table forcefully, the water in the vinegar bottle only sloshing slightly from his effort.
“I repaired the table!” he explained, giving the now more stable table another wiggle when Mia still looked confused. “I found a piece of wood by the stable, cut it to the right proportions with the saw, and hammered it onto the bottom of the table leg.”
Mia nodded, hoping her expression was suitably impressed.
“And…” Dominic backed towards the door as if there was a surprise waiting on the other side. “Listen to this…”
He swung the door to and fro a few times, looking at her expectantly.
“It no longer creaks!” he said triumphantly. “I rubbed soap on the hinges and, like magic, silence!”
“I’m delighted,” Mia said, managing to contain her smile.
“No, this door won’t wake anyone now.” He nodded proudly at the door as if he had conquered a dangerous beast. “We can open it a million times and not a peep.”
“Not a peep,” Mia repeated. He looked like a young boy, so proud of his accomplishment.
“Those things were driving me mad, and I thought I’d do something about it.” He returned to his indifferent state again, coolly shutting the door and sprawling in the chair as if he realized how uncharacteristically eager he was to display his accomplishments. “And how was your afternoon? Did your friend have any interesting gossip to relay?”
“Not particularly. No one has gotten scammered and led a cow upstairs or moved a privy under the cover of darkness in ages.” Mia removed the bowl of blackberries from the basket and set them on the highest shelve in the cupboard.
“I don’t have extensive knowledge of women in her condition but are you certain your friend should be traipsing over hills?”
“She’s trying to jostle the baby out.” Mia said with a laugh. Though she had heard the upper classes tried to politely ignore pregnancies here was no denying Lettice’s condition; Lettice refused to let out the hem of her gowns any further and was now showing six inches of stockings as her belly ballooned in front of her. “She’d be glad to give birth on the side of the road if it meant it was over.”
Dominic’s eyes widened in alarm. “Don’t allow her to walk you home again.”
“I promise you won’t have to play doctor and catch the wee one.” Mia laughed again as his face tinged green. “Though seeing how well you’ve accomplished the cottage chores perhaps midwifery could be your next venture?”
Dominic shuddered delicately even as he rolled his dark eyes at her obvious teasing.
Mia mentally debated whether telling him what Lettice’s main topic of conversation was – well, him – and then decided that there was no harm in asking. “Lettice did wonder why a gentleman – a lord, though I did not reveal it – such as yourself was voluntarily secluding himself for the entire summer.”
Dominic didn’t answer immediately.
His sable eyebrows drew low over his eyes as he stared at the table, but his other perfect features remained a mask. After a few seconds, Mia decided he was unlikely to say anything, and she returned to her room to put her bonnet and Lettice’s basket away.
She returned to find him still seated at the table, starring moodily at the bouquet. With a mental shrug, Mia grabbed the water pitcher and headed for the cottage door. She had just touched the door handle when his voice stopped her.
“You’ll find me ridiculous when I confess how unhappy I was in London.” Dominic hadn’t turned his head to look at her; he seemed to be addressing the belladonna that drooped in his direction. “It is a place with every entertainment in the world and I have the largess to enjoy it all. There was the theater, balls, museums, the opera where my own…friend performed every night. My sister, Georgiana, is on her sixth season and hasn’t had a proposal yet. My youngest sister, Edith, has just debuted. My mother was intent on them attending every function and wanted me to accompany them. I refused, to her annoyance, but not because I was intent on being difficult. Well, not entirely.”
Mia stepped around to his periphery and she could see his crooked grin, half-ashamed, half-pleased with frustrating his mother’s plans.
“The raucous parties of my fellow bachelors, overflowing with wine and pleasing women, bored me. Lavish balls with timid debutantes and sharp-eyed matrons were torturous. Even my club, a supposed safe haven from the pressures of the day, seemed stifling. I no longer enjoyed the taste of food. A doctor was called once but found nothing amiss. It was a sort of melancholic nonsense, I suppose.”
He glanced at her, his ebony eyes surprisingly vulnerable, and Mia, who had never once found sympathy for the aristocrats she’d seen from afar, found herself quickly reassuring him.
“A rich man can be as unhappy as a poor one,” she said firmly even if she didn’t quite believe it.
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