Hetty laughed it off. “Thank you. I am fine. But I think I shall excuse myself for a moment, if you do not mind.”
The women waved her off with grace.
No one else noticed her exit. And that was just as she would have it. Let them think she was attending to personal business. Just so long as they did not think she was being rude. She would hate for her behavior to put a damper on Agatha's party.
Once out of the drawing room, Hetty took a deep breath. She heard the buzz of the guests behind her. She also heard a muffled screech from the direction of the kitchen. Hetty smiled and headed down the hall toward the back of the house. That must be the children having their dinner. She would just take a moment to check on them and make sure they weren't overwhelming Mrs. Lowell, the cook and the current stand-in for the absent governess.
Hetty found the children sitting – using the very loosest definition of the word – around the large wooden table near the door of the kitchen. Further into the room, Mrs. Lowell and a young woman from the village who had been brought in to help for the night were trying very hard to mind them and keep an eye on all the pots and pans they were shuffling on and off of tables. Hetty could tell that the younger children were about ready to start running around the kitchen, no matter what their oldest sister was trying to tell them. She had clearly appeared at just the right moment.
“Children!” She spoke the word as a command and clapped her hands loudly to gain their attention. It was comical the way everyone in the kitchen seemed to freeze in their places, a frenzied tableau to rival a painting by Hieronymus Bosch. The children looked guilty and Mrs. Lowell looked intensely relieved.
“Everyone sit back down at the table, please,” again Hetty spoke in a tone that allowed for no negotiation.
“Thank the Lord, Miss Masters,” Mrs. Lowell drawled in her Irish accent. “I was about to let the wee heathens run wild in the hall just to keep me and young Maria here from spilling something hot and burning us all. Not to mention ruining dinner for the guests. Then I might have had to serve roast child!”
The younger children gasped in wonderful fright. Mrs. Lowell gave Hetty a surreptitious wink. Hetty knew she loved the children like her own. But that didn't mean she had to like them all the time, especially when they were, indeed, acting like “wee heathens”. Mrs. Lowell had been cook for the family before any of the children had even been born. But Hetty also understood that she was under pressure to make a good showing of her skills for all the neighbors. Never mind that their guests had all supped here before. Mrs. Lowell considered that she had a reputation to uphold on behalf of Hayes house.
Hetty gave a conspiratorial wink back. She would keep the children occupied for a little while until it was time for them to go upstairs to bed. That wouldn't be long now. She looked over her charges, who were all sitting at the table as she had asked them to do. They were fidgeting, though, so Hetty didn't count on them remaining still for long.
“Squish over, Agnes.” Hetty comically bumped her niece over on the seat, pretending that she needed a lot of room. The girl giggled and made way for her aunt to sit down.
“What have you had for dinner tonight?” Hetty looked at the discarded plates and spoons strewn across the table. She felt a pang of guilt for leaving Mrs. Lowell to deal with all six of the children on her own. It seemed that even the oldest children, usually put in charge of caring for their younger siblings, were in a rambunctious mood. They knew visitors were in the house and mama and papa weren't watching as closely as usual. That, combined with the fact that they'd been in the house all day because of the cold weather, meant that they had a lot of excess energy.
“Mrs. Lowell made us a stew,” young Harriet announced in answer to Hetty's question. Hetty had a soft spot for her namesake. Fittingly, the girl was currently sitting with her elbows propped on the table and her chin cupped between her small hands.
“And was it yummy?” Hetty asked.
“Yes!” They all chorused. Hetty saw the cook smile as she heard them. Hetty was very much looking forward to whatever delicious meal Mrs. Lowell had prepared. It certainly smelled good. The guests in the other room could probably hear her stomach rumble from here.
“Of course it was,” Hetty spoke slowly for the younger children. “Mrs. Lowell always makes us yummy things to eat, which is why we must stay out of her way now. She is making yummy things for mama and papa and their guests.”
“Aren't you supposed to be out there with them, auntie?” Vanessa, the eldest, asked.
“Yes. I should be, smart girl,” she winked at her niece. “But I couldn't resist checking on my favorite nieces and nephews before they went to bed.”
“Oh no,” groaned the children.
“Do we have to go to bed?” whined Margaret. At eleven years old, she had started to think she should be treated as an adult, including the privilege of staying up late. She was very jealous that Vanessa, only one year older than she was, was allowed to stay up an entire half an hour later.
“Yes, you have to,” Hetty lovingly mimicked her whine. “But we still have some time before that happens. What should we do?”
“Play!” Stephen yelled and ran over to her. He used his messy hands to grab onto her dress near her hip.
“Play? I believe we could manage that,” Hetty said and hoisted the young boy onto her lap. “What would you like to play?”
“The apple game!” Margaret yelled before her brothers or sisters could say anything.
“The apple game, huh?” Hetty asked. “Is that fine with everyone else?”
Hetty counted it as a small miracle that they all agreed.
“We must ask Mrs. Lowell for some apples,” Hetty prompted. They'd been working this week on manners and using polite words to ask for what they wanted. Here was a prime opportunity to see if any of those lessons had stuck.
They all looked around, trying to spot the apples, but no one spoke up to ask the busy cook. Suddenly, Agnes jumped up and ran to the opposite side of the kitchen. Hetty braced herself to call out to the girl, but Mrs. Lowell had stepped out to get something from the larder and was not currently bustling around the kitchen. Hetty held her breath, but Agnes made it back to the table without incident. This was even more surprising considering that the small girl was gingerly carrying a heaping bowl of apples. She tipped it up onto the table, nearly spilling them out. She beamed at her brothers and sisters.
They each started to climb over the table to reach the fruit. “Ahem,” Hetty cleared her throat and they froze in place. “Have we asked Mrs. Lowell if we can have these?”
“But they were on the other table,” Agnes said and pointed to where she had gotten them.
“Yes, they were. But did you ask?” Hetty responded.
“No, she didn't!” Vincent delighted in accusing his sister.
“No, she didn't,” Hetty repeated slowly. “And do we need to ask in order to use things that are not ours?”
“Yes, ma'am,” Agnes looked like she was about to cry.
“Do not worry, my love,” she consoled the girl. “Before we use these, let's ask. Agnes, since you kindly found the bowl of apples for us, will you please ask Mrs. Lowell if we can have them for our game?”
The girl nodded, but looked reluctant to approach her task. “Mrs. L?” she said shyly. The cook had returned and was again bustling back and forth across the kitchen. She hadn't heard the girl. Agnes looked at her aunt, hoping to get out of her task. Hetty gave her a private smile which seemed to boost the girl's confidence.
She spoke up. “Mrs. L?”
The cook stopped and smiled at her. “Yes, love?”
Agnes grew even more confident, seeing that the older woman was not going to grind her bones for bread. “We want to play the apple game and I found these apples on the table over there,” she pointed. “So we wanted to know if you needed the apples for anything or if we would be able to have them for our game. Please.” The speech had come out nearly all in one breath with
the 'please' added as an afterthought. Hetty bit her lip to keep from laughing. At least the girl had remembered to be polite. Agnes looked expectantly at Mrs. Lowell.
Hetty watched the scene play out. Mrs. Lowell, as busy as she was, paused for a moment to carefully consider this request.
“You say you all want to play a game?” She asked. The children nodded vigorously. “And you want to play this game with my apples?” They nodded again. “Hmmm...” she kept them on edge. “Well, I guess that would be fine. Mama and papa don't need apple tarts for their guests, do they?”
The children's eyes went wide. Hetty knew for a certainty that the apple tarts had already been assembled and these apples were not destined for any tarts this evening. Mrs. Lowell finally broke into a smile and the children sighed her in relief.
“I am just joshing ya, children. You may have my apples for your game,” the children started to lunge for the fruit, “but only if Maria and I can play, too.”
“Yes!” They giggled as the cook made a silly face at them.
“Miss Agnes, since you asked me so nicely, would you pick out the biggest apple for me?” Mrs. Lowell asked. Agnes immediately fell to her important task. Not wanting to miss out on picking a prime one, the other children continued their climb over to the bowl to grab apples for themselves.
Hetty stood up with Stephen and put him down on the bench. She moved to get a knife to peel the apples.
“Who should go first?” Hetty asked.
“Mrs. L! Mrs. L!” Agnes shouted and thrust out the biggest apple toward her. The others quickly chimed in, chanting her name until the woman had taken the apple and begun to peel it. They waited while she finished going around and around the fruit, creating one long peel. She took a bite out of the apple and then set it on the table.
Mrs. Lowell pretended to take this all very seriously. “Now, children, will yah say it with me?” She paused to let them join in. “Apple peel --”
“Apple peel,” they chanted as one. “Please reveal... the initial of my true love!”
As they excitedly finished the chant, Mrs. Lowell turned her back to them and tossed the peel over her shoulder. The children leaped up from the table and gathered around.
“Don't touch it!” Margaret commanded. “Don't mess it up!”
They all peered at it and began guessing what letter the apple peel had formed. The girls were especially interested. Hetty laughed at their earnestness. She remembered her own girlhood of playing these kinds of games with her sister and friends, desperately hoping that the apple peel truly held the initial of the man she would marry.
But Hetty never had gotten married and she'd long ago stopped feeling any pang of regret on that front. Her young nieces, though, had their whole lives in front of them and all they wanted was to find out who they would fall in love with. She did not relish the day when they found out that true love and a good marriage did not necessarily mean the same thing. She'd seen it happen more often than not in London society. Oh, how much these young ones had to learn. It pinched at her heart.
The children had settled on the idea that the apple peel was in the shape of the letter C.
“C! My husband would have been glad to know that,” she laughed heartily. Mr. Lowell had passed away nearly a decade ago, but Mrs. Lowell still told stories of him.
“What was his name?” Margaret asked in an excited manner.
Mrs. Lowell paused, teasing them. Finally she flashed her eyes and said, “Charles!”
“Charles!” They all yelled, excited. “It works! It works!”
“I think Maria should go next, seeing as she and Mrs. Lowell have some work they need to get back to,” Hetty prompted. The girl shyly approached the group gathered around the apple peel on the ground. Vanessa held out an apple to her, welcoming her into the fold. Hetty thought Maria could not be that much older than Vanessa herself, but her shyness made her seem younger. She was less confident than Mrs. Lowell had been, but the peel grew longer and longer. The children watched intently as it did, concentrating very hard on the task.
Maria finished her task and looked up expectantly. They all began the chant.
“Apple peel, apple peel, please reveal the initial of my true love.”
As they finished, Maria turned her back to the group and threw the peel over her shoulder. She was a little too ambitious, though, and the peel hit Agnes on the head before falling to the floor. Maria looked horrified for a moment before Agnes started to giggle. Then all of the children joined her until they were laughing so much they were almost crying. Hetty couldn't resist either and found herself wiping tears from her eyes.
Finally, Mrs. Lowell said that she and Maria needed to get back to work. So the children looked at the peel and determined it was in the shape of a G. They eagerly questioned Maria to see if she knew anyone whose name began with G. The girl blushed and shook her head. Hetty thought she just might have a special someone in mind. How nice to have a tender spot for someone, to look forward to their presence.
Vincent scooped up the peel from the floor and the children decided who should go next.
“Aunt Hetty next!” Vanessa declared and the other children accepted her decree.
Hetty took an apple and the knife and began to peel. Around and around the uneven fruit she went, creating a long tail of juicy peel. Again the children watched attentively. Finally, she finished and put the apple and the knife down.
“Are you ready?” She asked the children. They chanted again.
“Apple peel, apple peel, please reveal the initial of my true love.”
Like Mrs. Lowell and Maria before her, Hetty turned her back and tossed the peel. It didn't hit anyone this time, but instead fell on the table behind them. The children turned and began their intense examination. Hetty leaned over and looked with them. She knew it was silly, but she was just as curious as they were about what the peel would reveal.
They were all still deciding on whether the peel looked like a D or a G when there was a knock at the open door and someone cleared his throat.
“Ahem.”
The merriment stopped as the children froze, afraid of being punished for doing something they should not have been doing. Hetty snapped up straight as she recognized the man in the doorway. His sudden appearance startled her.
“Mr. Henderson! Mr. Henderson!” Margaret called. “Come play our game!”
A smile spread over his face. Hetty's heart thumped hard in her chest. She convinced herself it was doing that because she had been startled.
“Mr. Henderson. I was... we were just... did you need something?” Hetty stuttered.
“Miss Masters, I noticed your absence and I believe we are almost ready to go in for dinner.” He spoke formally, but there was a flash of amusement in his eyes. Still, he made her nervous. The children were now ignoring the adults and looking at the apple peel on the table. There was still some debate about what letter it was showing.
“Oh? Has so much time passed?” Hetty wrung her hands nervously while he watched. “I shall be there momentarily.”
Mr. Henderson nodded and then addressed the children. “I must drag your aunt away from the game, children. I see you have had your dinner but we have not. And I have heard that your cook is the best in this area.” The last was spoken even louder so that Mrs. Lowell could hear it on the other side of the kitchen. The woman smiled and nodded at the guest.
“Don't go! Don't go!” The children called as he backed out of the doorway and into the hall. He gave them a tender smile as he went.
“Hush, children,” she scolded as she smoothed her dress, a gesture of nervous relief that his eyes weren't on her anymore. “You all may continue to play. But I would like Vanessa to peel the apples for Stephen, Vincent, Harriet, and Agnes, please.” The younger children groaned. “No moaning! Knives can be dangerous and I don't want anyone to cut themselves. Mrs. Lowell is about to serve the adults dinner and she cannot watch you. If you would like to keep playing, that is the r
ule.” They all grumbled again. “Good, then. I love you all, my dears, and I will see you tomorrow.”
Hetty's dress wrinkled again with the hugs and kisses the children insisted upon before she joined Mr. Henderson in the hallway. He was leaning against the wall, clearly lost in thought.
It was Hetty's turn to clear her throat. “Ahem.”
He sprang upright at the sound. “Miss Masters.” Another courtly tilt of his head that both acknowledged her presence and somehow indicated that he was glad to see her. Hetty wondered again where he had learned his impeccable manners.
“I'm sorry,” she offered. “I had to get the children situated. I hope I did not inconvenience you... One of the servants might have come for me.”
“They might have,” he agreed. “But I suspect that we both had another motive for escaping the noise of the drawing room.”
Hetty arched her eyebrows in inquiry. She had needed to compose herself after seeing him. What could his motive be? “I suspect so.”
Without further comment, he offered his arm. “The others have just crossed the hall and gone into dinner. Shall we join them?”
Hetty took his arm, her nerves stirring again as she drew closer to him. When she was certain he wasn't looking at her, Hetty inhaled deeply and sent up a prayer that she would make it through dinner without embarrassing herself.
Chapter Four
RUPERT SWIRLED THE port around in his glass, fascinated with the way the light played off of the liquid and comforted by the warmth spreading through his insides after the big sip he'd taken. Usually he would be delighted to discuss all manner of things with the gentlemen who had stayed behind in the dining room. But tonight he truly wished to be across the hall with the women.
Dinner was delicious, but it had afforded little time for conversation with Miss Masters. With such a small group of people, the talk had carried on back and forth and up and down the table, necessitating his attention to the other guests instead of solely to the woman sitting beside him. Of course they'd both participated. And he'd seen her laughingly throw witticisms around with ease. She'd even addressed a comment or two to him, asking his opinion of some aspect of London life. He'd played her off with something silly and noncommittal.
A Prince for Aunt Hetty Page 4