“So they are, Madam. I will fix a bath for you. The pipes are quite clever. Lord Westcott had it done when the room was redecorated. Very much into modern ways, his lordship.” Mrs. Lawson busied herself with the beds as she spoke and Anne settled into a chair out of the way. “Your trunk is in the passageway. Someone will finish unpacking for you whilst you bathe. Molly will see to it the children get something to eat.”
The housekeeper paused to look at Anne, as if waiting for a reaction to this, but Anne had no objection. Danielle and Guy had to become accustomed to these new surroundings.
“That is excellent, Mrs. Lawson. I am sure they are hungry, as I am. In the future, I will eat downstairs, but today I would like to breakfast here.” Anne smiled, but her tone was firm. However difficult an adjustment, the servants had to accept her authority. They did not need to know her insides quivered like blancmange at the notion she was to order this establishment, and although Westcott had not come right out and said it, the implication was clear. She was here to mother the children and run the household.
Anne was suddenly assailed with a longing for Maggie. She needed a familiar face and someone to confide in, but what the Fentons’ position would be here was uncertain. Something else she needed to discuss with Westcott. You must insist that he see you, Anne. Besides, you vowed not to allow him to exclude you and the children from his life. Granted, that was prior to learning of his position and habitat, but still….
Mrs. Lawson’s announcement that her bath was ready put off any further mental discussion concerning the viscount. Anne gratefully succumbed to the pleasure of the steaming water. The bath was a marvel, with hot water arriving via the “clever” pipes and involving a boiler and other complexities beyond her. It worked, which was all that mattered, and she emerged some time later feeling refreshed and almost looking forward to the day ahead. Clara, her new maid—personal maid—something else to become accustomed to, had laid out a gown and undergarments. Professing to be “a hand with hair, Madam”, Clara proceeded to brush and arrange Anne’s in a style less severe than her usual tight knot.
Clad in one of her new dresses, one of several Westcott had ordered for her in Southampton, Anne surveyed her reflection with something like approval. She was presentable and however vain it may be, feeling so was a boon to her confidence. Which was sorely needed, since a request from Westcott to see him at her convenience had arrived while she was finishing her breakfast. One cannot simply order a wife about, can one? Anne coughed to cover her giggle. Westcott could, she felt sure, and thought his consideration a good sign.
Feeling somewhat more in charity with him, Anne followed the maid through a bewildering number of passageways to an imposing set of double doors at the end of one of the longest. Her bedchamber must be in a different wing, Anne decided, stepping inside when the maid opened the door. This wood-paneled room appeared to face the rear of the house, judging from the lake visible through the wide windows. Of course there was a lake, and no doubt a bowling green lurked somewhere, along with a grotto, folly and who knew what else? Smothering a nervous laugh at these absurdities, she crossed the room to join Westcott at the window. Unsmiling, gaze hooded, he watched her approach without the slightest expression of welcome. Anne stiffened and set her own face into what she believed was an equally cool expression.
“Good morning, Westcott.” She nodded graciously at him and then waved a hand toward the view. “A very pretty aspect. Is the lake deep enough for boats?”
He looked taken aback at this off-hand comment, and then something akin to amusement flickered in his eyes. “In parts, quite deep, and we do keep several boats on hand. Any one of the groundskeepers will be pleased to take you out, if you wish it.” A sudden smile lit his face and he lightly touched her arm. “A poor beginning! Come, sit down and we will try again.” He led her to one of the chairs flanking the fireplace, sat opposite her, and with another of those unexpected smiles that caught at her throat, added, “Good morning, Anne. I trust you found your accommodations satisfactory?” He looked expectantly at her. “Now you reply, “Quite satisfactory, Nicholas.”
Struck by the idiocy of it, Anne laughed and relaxed her tense posture. “’Quite satisfactory, Nicholas,’” she echoed, and was pleased to see him lean back, seemingly at ease. At least so it suited him to appear, but it would not do to forget this man was a master at hiding his true feelings. Believing it might behoove her to take advantage of this good will while it lasted, Anne plunged right in. “The room is lovely, which I am told is due to you and your daughter.” She clasped her hands together in front of her and smiled. “The bathing room is truly a marvel.”
“Ah, then you have no aversion to these “newfangled inventions.”
“Not when they make life so much more comfortable,” she said dryly. “Danielle and Guy also thought it impressive. You are aware they spent the night with me?”
“Yes, so I was informed. They have been given rooms, in the same wing as Sarah, and close to the nursery. You, of course, are free to choose otherwise, if you prefer another arrangement.”
Given Westcott’s bland expression and tone of voice, Anne was unable to judge whether he expected her to object. Nor did she have any idea of his opinion on her decision to keep Danielle and Guy with her last night. It hardly mattered now, however, since she did not plan a reoccurrence, and she put it aside as unimportant.
“Not at all,” she said. “Eventually Danielle may wish to be more apart from the younger children, but in the beginning she will feel more secure if Guy is near.” Anne looked curiously at him. “You mentioned the nursery. Is it in use? Sarah is almost nine, I believe you said.”
“An old habit. Sarah is always taking me to task for not saying schoolroom.” He shrugged. “Schoolroom, playroom, nursery; the suite has been used for many things over the years. Sarah will show you through it.”
Anne next dared the question that had plagued her for several days. “Will you tell me what to expect with her? I do not want to start off badly, and she may not take kindly to having her domain invaded by three strangers.” She lifted her chin. “Nor do I wish to contradict whatever you may have told her.”
Westcott stiffened. “She knows we are married and that Danielle and Guy are orphans we befriended. I did not feel it necessary to go into any detail. Sarah knows she is not going to be supplanted in any way.”
Anne shivered at the chill in his eyes. No help would be forthcoming, that much was clear, What exactly did he expect her to tell the child? No doubt Sarah was brimming with curiosity, and apprehension.
“I see.” Anne glanced down at her hands, folded loosely in her lap, and suppressed the very real urge to throw something at him. The force of it startled and amused her. She looked up, eyes wide, and asked coolly, “I would appreciate knowing what authority I am to have in this household, and with all the children.” Gratifying, his quickly veiled surprise, and the brusque tone not as effective as he might wish.
“You are mistress here and free to order the household as you wish. My secretary will provide any information you desire. Sarah will acquaint you with her routine; any major changes must be cleared through me.”
“I see,” Anne said again and then narrowed her eyes. “No, I do not see.” She gazed steadily at him, determined to have more answers, and if the look in her eyes was one of challenge, so be it. “What constitutes major? You must be more specific, sir.” She leaned forward, held up a hand and began to tick off the questions on her fingers. “Changing the menu? Ordering clothing for the children? Interviewing a governess? My own education is good, but lacking those subjects a boy is expected to study.”
Anne felt her mouth tighten under his impassive stare and with an impatient movement she turned her hands palm out. “We agreed to a marriage of convenience; the implication being that it was convenient to both of us. I have no expectation of other than such a marriage, nor any desire for it—a bald-faced lie, if ever you spoke one. But I will not be left floundering
with no notion of how to go on.” She dropped her hands and said more quietly, “How do you intend to introduce Danielle and Guy to the household? To society? What of this trust fund of Danielle’s? Where do they stand legally? You say Monsieur Meraux has abandoned all claims, but what if he attempts to see the children?” Suddenly weary and more intimidated by the grim set of Westcott’s face than she cared to show, Anne sat back and planted a patient expression on her face.
Westcott stared at her for a moment, appearing startled by the barrage of questions, but the stern look softened. Perhaps he was reachable after all and you had only to stand up to him, Anne. A fleeting thought she at once acknowledged as fantasy.
“You have raised a number of points that have yet to be resolved,” he replied. “The legalities are complex, but Danielle does have a trustee and guardian—Lord Strathmere.” He gave her an almost apologetic smile. “I had wished to give you more time to become comfortable here before plunging you into a complicated tangle involving a number of people you do not yet know. But perhaps it is unwise to leave you ignorant of the situation.” He paused, glanced at the mantel clock, and raised an eyebrow in question.
“Sarah is expecting us, with great impatience, I am sure. Will you agree to postpone this discussion until later today, when there is more time to address your concerns? I swear I will tell you everything you want to know.”
Disconcerted by the sudden warmth in his eyes, Anne blinked, nodded her agreement and felt a smile curl her lips, a reaction that so annoyed her, she jumped up and answered briskly, “Very well, sir. Explanations can wait a while longer.” Then, plaintively enough that she cringed inside, “But at least tell me how you wish the children to address me, and you?” And why this one little thing, of all your worries, when so much else was unresolved?
Anne gave him a quick glance from beneath her lashes. He, at least, did not seem to think the question or her manner anything out of the ordinary, and when he placed a hand under her elbow and began to walk toward the door, she meekly trailed along beside him. The heat from his fingers, clasped around her arm, felt alarmingly pleasant and much too distracting. As casually as possible, Anne disengaged when he reached out to open the door and stood aside to allow her to precede him. She waited for him to step beside her and said, “Well, sir?”
Expression once again impassive, Westcott paced beside her as they traversed the long passageway. “Since Danielle and Guy are accustomed to the name Blackwell, I suggest they continue to use it, sans the ‘mister’, naturally. I believe I heard them address you as ‘Aunt Blackwell’, and I have no objection to it.”
Several twists and turns, and a flight of stairs had led them to the end of what Anne suspected was yet another wing before Westcott halted and looked down her.
“Sarah will choose for herself.”
And with that terse, and what Anne felt unwelcoming comment, he opened the door to his daughter’s room.
Chapter Thirteen
Slim and fine boned as she was, the child’s presence dominated the large, sunlit room. She sat very straight in her wheeled chair, a book on her lap, forgotten now in her excitement. “Hello, Papa. You have been a long time in coming!” she blurted out, a wide-eyed, eager look on her face as she watched them approach. But although she smiled at her father, her anxious gaze never left Anne’s face.
Why, she is as nervous about this meeting as you are. Anne’s heart, never staunch against a child’s appeal, opened to enfold this beautiful girl. Sarah had her father’s eyes, Anne saw as she moved forward, but the charming look of innocence was much more appropriate on her face. It had been many a year since Westcott could be labeled innocent, Anne suspected. Did he have that same ingenuous expression when a boy? She made a mental note to look about for a family portrait.
“Hello, muffin. A fine greeting, and when I have brought someone to meet you. Am I so very much behind time?”
Sarah giggled and held out her arms. “Just a little, but it seemed long.”
Westcott returned her hug and kissed her cheek. “Time has a way of being so when one is waiting. But we are here now.” He straightened and turned to Anne.
“May I present to you Sarah Augusta Elaine Blackwell? Sarah, this is Anne Elizabeth Blackwell, Lady Westcott.”
Anne glanced at him, surprised he remembered her middle name, then smiled at Sarah and held out her hand. “I am very pleased to make your acquaintance, Sarah. May I visit with you for a bit?” Spying a stool, Anne pulled it closer and sat down without waiting for an answer.
“Are you enjoying your book? I was forever reading when I was your age. My mother quite despaired of me at times. She was never sure when she would find me hidden in some corner reading.”
“The story is most interesting,” Sarah said with a shy smile. “It’s Robinson Crusoe. Do you know it?”
“I do know it. Mr. Crusoe was quite the adventurer, wasn’t he? I do think it may have been somewhat an uncomfortable life, however.” That drew a giggle from Sarah and Anne sensed, rather than saw, Westcott withdraw from the room. Surely it is a positive sign, leaving you alone with his child.
“I suppose so,” Sarah said. “Especially before he met Friday and had company.”
“I’m not sure how much of a companion Friday was to him,” Anne said, her voice expressing the real doubt she had about the company of someone who did not speak your language.
“I am not sure either.”
Sarah looked earnestly at Anne, her eyes widening in an expression so much like her father’s that Anne blinked. This look was a very good ploy on Westcott’s part, usually preceding some unwelcome suggestion. She wondered if Sarah was aware of the power of using it, but after one look into the child’s clear eyes, devoid of any guile, decided she was not. But Sarah was excited about something, an assumption confirmed with the girl’s next question.
“Father told me of the children, but not very much. Will you tell me about them?” She leaned forward, her eyes sparkling. “Are they really going to live here?”
Anne smiled at the eager youngster, conscious of serious annoyance that Westcott had left this to her. Beginnings were so important. Perhaps he felt it better coming from you. A boost to your self-esteem if so, but more likely just happenstance. Putting it aside, Anne stalled with a question of her own.
“What did he tell you?”
“That they are a boy and a girl who have no parents and need someone to take care of them.”
Anne raised her eyebrows and smiled faintly. “It is complicated, Sarah, but I will try to explain. The children are French, and yes, they are orphans. Guy is seven years old, and Danielle is almost fourteen. I met them whilst in Portugal.” Omitting any mention of Claude Meraux’s schemes, and glossing over the reasons for her sudden marriage to Westcott—made easier by the fact she was not sure of the reasons—Anne related the Durants’ story.
“Oh.” Sarah’s eyes were wide with amazement by the time Anne finished. “They do not speak English? How will we talk? I don’t know much French yet. Do they know about me? When may I meet them?”
The questions tumbled out and Anne laughed, pleased by this evidence of enthusiasm. “You may meet them anytime your routine permits. Perhaps we should ask Mrs. Timmons about that.” Sarah’s nurse had excused herself after being introduced to Anne, but was no doubt close by. “As to the language problem, why, I depend upon on you to teach them English. In return, they will help you with your French. If you are willing?”
“Oh, yes! It will be the greatest fun imaginable.”
Sarah glowed with pleasure and Anne gave in to impulse and raised a hand to touch the girl’s face. “I hope it will. For they very much need a friend.”
Sarah hesitated, and then rested her cheek, just for a moment, against Anne’s hand. “What am I to call you?” she asked in a low voice.
Anne rose and looked down at her, a questioning smile lifting her lips. “What would you like to call me?”
Sarah leaned her head to one side
. “I have thought about it since Papa told me you were to be my new mother. Would Mother Anne be acceptable, do you think? My own mother was Mama, and I don’t think I could call someone else so.”
She looked so concerned Anne again succumbed to impulse and leaned forward to give her a hug. “Certainly you could not. I will very much like being Mother Anne.” She straightened and smiled. “Now, I’d best be going before Mrs. Timmons gives me a scold.”
“I would never, my lady.” Mrs. Timmons hurried into the room, obviously having overheard Anne’s comment. “Your visit with Miss Sarah seems to have agreed with her, from what I can see.” She bobbed a curtsey and then looked fondly at her charge. “It is time for a bit of lunch and you must be hungry as well, my lady.”
Surprised to realize she was hungry, having been too nervous to eat much breakfast, Anne smiled her agreement and with a promise to Sarah to bring Danielle and Guy to meet her later, took her leave.
She closed the door behind her and slumped against the highly polished wooden panels. Both elated and exhausted by the emotional meeting, she bowed her head and struggled for some composure. The day was barely half over; she had yet to discover Maggie and Bill’s whereabouts; Danielle and Guy had certainly expected her to join them long since, and not the least of her concerns, she did not have any notion of how to find her way around this enormous house!
Nor will you learn lingering here, Anne. You must do better than this. Too many people depend upon you to falter now. Suppressing the fleeting thought that it would be nice to depend upon someone else for a change, she took several deep breaths, stood straight, and stepped forward in the direction she believed she and Westcott had come from.
“Was it so difficult, meeting Sarah? I had thought you would more readily take to her.”
Startled, Anne whirled around. Westcott! How long had he been watching her? His expression again noncommittal, he paced toward her. “Certainly I took to her,” Anne said, schooling her face into what she prayed was a bland countenance. One that did not display any of the disquiet she felt, or expose the rapid beat of the pulse in her neck. “Your daughter is a charming girl, and I believe her to be well-disposed toward me.” Anne took an involuntary step back as he neared. “She is eager to meet Danielle and Guy.”
An Inconvenient Wife Page 11