Most of all she knew she could never give her heart to a man who had no reverence for God. She could not avoid the same conclusion she’d arrived at throughout the past fortnight. She must keep away from Simon Aguilar as much as possible. She was there to serve his daughter. She would do her utmost to help her, but she must remove herself from all but the most necessary contact with the girl’s father.
Althea turned from the window praying once again that God would grant her the grace to see her assignment in the Aguilar household successfully through to its conclusion. She could see no clear way ahead; she felt as if she were in the middle of one vast desert. Her beginnings were already obscured; there was no turning back; her destination was equally out of sight. There was no help for it but to keep putting one foot in front of the other, trusting that the Lord would see her through, even if she didn’t understand it all at the time.
Simon came into the library and put his finger to his lips. “She’s coming,” he whispered dramatically to his daughter, who sat in a leather armchair by the fire, her legs swinging in anticipation.
She leaned forward, her eyes sparkling, her hands grasping the arms of the chair. “Oh, I can’t wait!”
“Her brother’s coach has just driven up. Giles knows what to do. Now quiet!” He came to sit in another chair.
Tea had been set out on a round table before the fire. They could hear only a few sounds through the thick door.
Before Althea reached the front door, Giles had opened it for her.
“Welcome home, miss.”
“Hello, Giles.” She gave him a surprised smile. Home, she thought in bemusement. No, it wasn’t home, but it was nice to feel a sense of welcome at her return. “How is everyone? Rebecca? Have they returned?”
“Oh, yes, miss, everyone’s back. We are all fine here,” he answered. “Harry, help the coachman with Miss Breton’s baggage.”
“Hello, Miss Breton.” Harry sprang forward at Giles’s words to take her portmanteau from her.
“Hello, Harry, how are you?” she asked, untying her bonnet ribbons.
“Right as rain, miss.”
“Let me take your things, miss,” said Giles. “I am instructed to tell you to freshen up, then to come down to the library at your earliest convenience.”
“Oh?” What strange instructions. It sounded like a summons. Was she to be dismissed? Was that the Lord’s answer to her prayers? “Is something wrong?”
Giles put on his most unrevealing expression. “I couldn’t tell you, miss.”
“No, of course not.” She took a look around her, seeing only closed doors. The smell, however, brought a sense of recognition—and welcome. Each house had its own distinct smell, and she noticed she had come to know this one’s. It was not unpleasant, not like the smells of cooked food, stale beer, and human and animal waste present in most of the streets and stairwells near the mission. Nor was it the centuries-old smell of brick and mortar of Pembroke Park.
Althea breathed in the smell of this house, noting its familiarity. This house was a mixture of old, settled wood with decades of beeswax rubbed into it, leather-bound books and paper and dust that had sat for a long time. She gave a faint shake of her head. Would she still recall this scent years from now when she was a graying spinster living in the East End?
“Well, I shall go up, then,” she said, removing her gloves but still hesitating.
“Very good, miss.” Giles turned to direct Harry and the coachman.
Seeing there was nothing left for her to do, she started up the wide stairs. She knocked, then peered into Rebecca’s room, but it was empty. No sign of anyone—the bed made, all the dolls and books in a neat row on the shelf. Althea tried to silence any worry or disappointment. The little girl she’d thought about so much and prayed about so fervently was nowhere to be seen. Could she have stayed on with her relatives? Had she grown worse? Had Simon decided she should live with her grandparents now, and was he going to inform Althea that her services were no longer required?
Althea caught herself in the mirror. She looked pale and frightened, making the freckles scattered across the bridge of her nose stand out in relief. This was ridiculous. If she was to be dismissed, she had better find out about it sooner rather than later. She marched through the sitting room into her own room. Her luggage had already been deposited on the floor.
She removed her pelisse, then rolled up the sleeves of her dress. She poured some water into her basin and bent over it to wash her face and hands. Patting them dry with a towel she felt somewhat better. She rebuttoned her sleeves, then unpinned her hair. She quickly hunted for her hairbrush in her reticule, and gave her scalp a stiff brushing, as if doing so would rid her of some of the nonsense filling her head.
Having re-pinned her coronet, she gave herself one quick look in the glass, smoothing her skirts and readjusting the kerchief around her neck. It would have to do for the coming interview. She was wearing one of Gillian’s castoffs, a dark blue wool set off by the white kerchief. With a final pat to her hair, Althea turned away from the glass.
The house was completely silent when she descended. She knocked outside the library door, feeling as if she’d gone back in time and was once more awaiting the interview with her brother’s school friend. How could a mere fortnight away from Simon Aguilar put her in such a state of anxiety?
“Come in.” The deep muffled voice came through the thick wood.
Simon looked toward Rebecca’s sparkling eyes. This time it was she who held her finger to her lips. He gestured silently with his hand for her to follow him. He took a seat at his desk and had her crouch behind it, out of sight.
“Come in.”
Althea opened the door and entered. Closing the door behind her, she stood at the entry, making no move to go farther. She spotted Simon at the other end of the room.
“You’re back,” he said in a serious tone.
“Yes, sir. You asked to see me?”
“Yes, come in. Don’t just stand there.”
He watched with amusement as she started at his tone then drew her shoulders back and marched toward him.
“Mr. Aguilar, where is—?”
Before she could finish the sentence, Simon gave a nudge to his daughter—and up she jumped.
“Surprise!” she shouted to Althea, as Simon stood and added, “Welcome home.”
She approached the desk, looking from one to another, her hand at her throat, her mouth agape. For a moment he thought she was about to faint. He quickly went around the desk and took her arm. “Look what we’ve prepared for you.” He propelled her toward the table laid for tea before the fire. The pleasant fragrance of Althea’s hair reached his nostrils, and he realized he’d rarely stood this close to her, or touched her. Seeing she still looked pale, he led her to the couch by the fire.
“We wanted to welcome you with a tea party. Doesn’t it look cozy?” Rebecca smiled at Althea, taking her hand.
“Oh, yes, dear, it does look cozy, indeed.” Her voice still sounded faint to Simon.
“It’s just tea, not a banquet,” he teased, trying to lighten her mood. He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed her face and her voice until he’d seen her standing there at the door. His daughter had clamored for some kind of welcoming celebration and he’d acquiesced. How glad he was he’d heeded her.
Rebecca looked at her coyly. “It was my idea to surprise you. Were you surprised?”
Althea laughed, and Simon thought he’d never heard such a clear, sweet laugh. It sounded like unmitigated joy. He wondered whether he’d ever in his life laughed like that.
“You certainly did surprise me. When I didn’t see or hear anybody about, well, you can imagine the things that started going through my mind.”
She met his gaze, and he realized how worried she must have been when they hadn’t appeared.
“Did you think we were still at Ramsgate?” Rebecca asked delightedly.
Althea smiled and nodded. “Yes, I thought you’d be
having too good a time and would not want to come back here,” she replied with another laugh, taking both Rebecca’s hands in her own.
For some reason Simon hadn’t been able to take his eyes off her since she’d entered the room. She was looking very fetching. The midnight blue transformed her gray eyes to blue and emphasized the gold of her hair and fairness of her complexion. He imagined it was how she must have looked during her London Seasons before she’d got it into her head that she must remove herself from society and hide herself in the slums of London. He approached the low rosewood table before the couch.
“Here, will you do the honors?” He held up the teapot.
Althea looked at him over the silver pot, and suddenly he knew she was thinking about the night of the dinner party and how Lady Eugenia had usurped her place. The intimacy of their present tea party hadn’t occurred to him until that moment. What would the grand lady say if she could see the private tableau now? He realized he didn’t really care. What she didn’t see was no concern of hers.
Althea began to pour the tea. “Cream, sugar?” she asked him.
“Just a touch of sugar, please,” he replied, taking a seat in a leather chair closest to the couch.
“Rebecca, could you take this to your father, please?” She watched his daughter bring him his tea. “You are looking so well. The sea air must have agreed with you.”
Rebecca came back to her with a smile. “It did. I think God heard your prayers, Miss Althea. I feel lots better.”
“I’m so thankful.” She looked at the plateful of cake and tarts on the table. “These look delicious. Did you help make them?”
Rebecca nodded. “This afternoon.”
Althea arranged a plate for Simon and handed it to his daughter.
“How was your stay in Hertfordshire?” Simon asked when they were all settled with their tea.
“Very pleasant, thank you,” she answered, stirring her tea.
“How is the newborn?”
“Lovely, surrounded by doting parents and grandfather.”
“What’s her name?” Rebecca asked.
“Judith Elizabeth.”
“That’s pretty. When was she born?”
“Only three days after I arrived at Pembroke Park.” Althea looked at Simon. “I must thank you for allowing me to go.”
He shrugged, though he felt pleasure that he had been able to do something for her. It struck him suddenly that she wasn’t a person who really needed anything. “I’m glad it all worked out. How is Tertius?”
Althea smiled. “Very happy. I don’t think we shall see him in London anytime soon.”
“No, I should imagine not.”
“We have some big news, too, Miss Althea,” piped up Rebecca from her chair.
“Yes?” She put her cup down, her smile fading.
“Auntie Tirzah is getting married next month. We are all invited to the wedding.”
“You remember my youngest sister?” Simon asked.
“Oh, yes. She sang beautifully. The young gentleman with her at your family’s house—that was her intended, was it not?”
“Yes, Solomon Cardoso. Nice chap.”
“Yes, he seemed so,” she said quietly.
“He’ll be my uncle when they’re married,” Rebecca explained.
“He will, indeed. Your Uncle Solomon.”
“Where is the wedding to be held, in Ramsgate?” she asked, directing her question to Rebecca.
Simon replied for his daughter. “Oh, no. It will be here in town. My sister has invited you.”
“She has?” She looked surprised, her hand going again to her chest. “That was nice of her.”
Simon frowned at her tone, which merely sounded perfunctory. He had expected her to be pleased. Did she feel uncomfortable with his family?
“Miss Althea, we want to take you to Ramsgate with us the next time we go. We had such a lovely time by the seashore. Abba promised me if I’m as good as I am now in May, we shall all go. Would you like to come with us?”
She seemed at a loss for words. “Let us wait until then, shall we?” She looked down, taking a sip of tea, as if afraid of saying more.
“I’m so glad you’re back, Miss Althea. I’ve been missing you so.”
“Have you? I’ve missed you, too. What have you been doing with your time?”
Simon continued to watch Althea as Rebecca chattered away. He was glad his daughter had formed a bond of affection with her nurse. It was important that she have a mother figure to look up to. It was true she had lots of family, and they visited her frequently, but it was not the same as having someone under her roof, there for her all the time. He was grateful to Tertius for having recommended his sister. Simon watched Althea push a wayward curl away from her forehead. She was a woman who cared deeply about those entrusted to her.
He could never live up to her ideals, but that was not to say he could not admire them from a distance.
“I’m starting a book,” Simon said, when his daughter had turned her attention to her tart. He didn’t know why he was telling her. For reasons he didn’t care to analyze, he wanted her to know.
Althea turned her eyes on him, a look of expectancy in their gray-blue depths. “You are? Tell me about it.”
He shrugged, suddenly embarrassed. “Oh, the usual, the need for parliamentary reform.”
“That’s wonderful! I’m sure it will get people to understand.”
“I shall be working on it over the next several months. I thought I’d tell you so if you see me closeted in this library for hours on end, you’ll understand why.”
“I’m sure it will be a very valuable work.”
Simon rose, suddenly uncomfortable with the coziness of the arrangement. The three of them could be a family sitting around the fire drinking tea like this. “Well, I must go and change. I shall be dining out this evening. I leave you in good hands, Rebecca.”
“Oh, Abba, can’t you stay?” Rebecca pouted. “Are you going to visit the baron again?”
“Yes, how do you know that?”
Her eyes twinkled, her disappointment forgotten. “I saw the invitation on the front table.”
“Invitations to Lady Stanton-Lewis’s salon have become quite coveted. All the most sought-after artists, poets and politicians gather there.” He found himself addressing Althea more than his daughter, and that irritated him. It was almost as if he were offering her explanations, yet he had reached his majority long ago.
Chapter Eleven
Late that evening Althea sat reading her Bible in her sitting room. It was growing late, but she was almost too tired to move. The fire was warm and snug. She felt a deliciously drowsy feeling steal over her. Her bedroom would be cold. She shouldn’t have stayed up so long after a full day of travel.
She had thought she would be in bed by nine, but it had taken a while to settle Rebecca. The girl had been too excited by Althea’s return and had wanted to tell her everything about her stay at the seashore. She had also wanted to hear more details about Althea’s time at her brother’s and had not been satisfied until Althea filled her in at length.
Althea sat back against the chair, contemplating the glowing coals. It had been a good day, all in all. There had been nothing to dread. Her first fright at not seeing Rebecca had been ridiculously unfounded. She could smile now at her worries. Rebecca had told her how it had been her idea to plan the surprise welcome.
Everything had gone well with Simon, as well. She was glad about his writing. He seemed rested from his holiday at the seashore. She was concerned about his continued friendship with Lady Stanton-Lewis, but there was little she could do about it. He was a grown man who ought to know what he was about. At least she knew where his affections lay, and she would bury any personal feelings she’d harbored, even the recollection of them. They would be as deeply obliterated as if they were under that pile of red coals before her.
By the time she had said her last good-night to Rebecca, Althea had felt the need t
o sit down with her Bible. Only God’s word could settle her, bringing peace and quietness to her soul. For the past few hours she had been reading and meditating in turn over the Word. The peace had come, as she had known it would, and now she felt she would sleep like a baby.
She started at a knock on her sitting room door, which as usual she had left ajar to Rebecca’s room.
“Hello. Did I startle you? Were you asleep?” Simon pushed open the door and peered in.
She took a deep breath, shaking herself fully awake. “No, not at all, though if you had come a few minutes later, you might have found me so.”
He smiled, entering the rest of the way. “I thought you’d have retired long before now, but I saw the light still burning.”
“Yes, I thought I would have, too. I must have slept more than I realized in the coach today.”
“How was your journey?”
“It was fine.”
“May I sit down?”
“Yes, of course.” She would tell him about Rebecca and then bid him good-night.
He stretched his legs in front of the fire. “This feels good. It’s still quite cold outside, for all that spring is here.”
“Yes.” He had on evening clothes, but he looked slightly disheveled, like a gentleman who has come from making all the social rounds. “The London parks looked beautiful as I rode by today, with all the narcissus in bloom,” she said in an attempt at polite conversation.
He didn’t answer right away. Althea fingered her Bible, wondering whether to continue reading. Perhaps he was just relaxing a little before turning in for the night and didn’t want a chattering female beside him. He had probably just come from hours of stimulating conversation at the salon.
As if reading her mind, he spoke up. “People from all over the Continent come to the Stanton-Lewis house to look at the collection of books and folios, and here you sit night after night with the same book. Tell me, Miss Breton, don’t you get tired of reading the same words? How many times have you read them by now? Ten, twenty?”
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