by Cheryl Holt
“Well, not horrid precisely, but you’re with them every day, Miss Wallace. Didn’t you ever speak up? Didn’t it occur to you to mention the problem to him?”
“There’s no beating around the bush with you which I like very much. It’s time for you to start calling me Faith.”
“If you wish it, I’d be honored.” Yet she didn’t offer the same courtesy.
Faith sighed. “My relationship with Alex is complicated.”
“Yes, I suppose it is, but they’re children, Faith. That should trump whatever issues you have with your brother.”
“I’m not a servant, Miss Barrington, and I never place myself in a position where Alex might treat me as if I was. I told him from the beginning—if he gained custody of the twins and stashed them in my home—he would have to hire others to mind them. I wouldn’t make it easy for him, and I wouldn’t tend them myself.”
“It sounds as if you didn’t want them at Wallace Downs.”
“No, I didn’t. When Alex returned from his banishment, he was in such a wretched state. He had Camilla with him, and he installed her in the manor. They were difficult and surly and unrepentant, and she was a renowned trollop. No one thought she should reside here, and Alex was in such a terrible mood that people were too cowardly to stand up to him about it. I felt it was an awful fate for the twins to be entrusted to them.”
“It’s my understanding they had nowhere else to go.”
“You’re correct. They couldn’t stay with their mother—it was dreadful there. But Camilla ignores them, and Alex is lazy so he permits her to run roughshod over him. If the twins have been neglected, it’s his own fault for being so derelict.”
“I won’t let him disregard them in the future. I will always be certain they are properly managed.”
“I’m so impressed by you. You have an interesting way of handling Alex. How have you accomplished it?”
“He likes and respects me so he listens to me.”
Faith peeked over at Miss Barrington, and at the admission her cheeks had flushed.
“Yes, he probably likes you,” Faith concurred. “Do you fancy him?”
Miss Barrington’s jaw dropped. “No!”
“You should work very hard to never have it grow beyond liking. It would be a disaster.”
“I’m just the governess,” Miss Barrington insisted.
“Governesses get themselves into plenty of trouble, and I have to inform you straight out that he won’t ever part with Camilla. Lord Pendergast and I have tried every ploy to convince him to be shed of her, but we’ve had no luck. So if you’re walking about with stars in your eyes and assuming he’ll become fond, you’re mad.”
Miss Barrington frowned. “I don’t think that.”
“You don’t have to lie, Miss Barrington. I know Alex, and he’s never traipsed over to the cottage to socialize with any of the other governesses, let alone attend a picnic with them. He’s never discussed the girls with them or bought them clothes. And he defended you to Camilla. If I had to clarify what’s transpiring, I’d describe him as being incredibly besotted.”
“Besotted! You’re being absurd.”
“Am I?”
Faith halted and pulled Miss Barrington around to face her.
“Be careful,” Faith said. “Watch out for him. He’s too sophisticated for you, and I can’t imagine what he intends. I’m worried about this.”
“There’s no need to be. I like him very much, but I have a good head on my shoulders. My sole focus is on the twins so I would never give him an excuse to send me away.”
Faith snorted. “Then make sure Camilla never sees how he looks at you.”
Miss Barrington snorted too. “It’s my specific intent that I never cross paths with her again.”
“An excellent plan.”
They started off again, enjoying the pretty lane, the green trees and blue summer sky when Miss Barrington said, “Speaking of being careful, are you sweet on Lord Pendergast?”
Faith steeled her expression. “Why would you wonder about that?”
“He constantly visits you at the cottage or you’re with him over at the manor. Are you having a…flirtation?”
Faith was flummoxed by the query, and when she didn’t respond right away, Miss Barrington hurriedly added, “That was cheeky of me, wasn’t it? I apologize. Your relationship with him is none of my business.”
To Faith’s surprise, she decided to answer the question. She was never able to talk about Price, and the words were begging to burst out.
“I’m sweet on him,” she confessed, then she chuckled. “Actually, I’m a tad beyond that.”
Miss Barrington considered the reply, then cautiously asked, “Is that wise?”
“No. It’s insane.”
“Might he share your affection?”
“Yes. I’m very different from the women in his world, and he likes that I am.”
“I’ve known a few debutantes in my day,” Miss Barrington said, “so I have to categorically agree with you. You’re very different from those silly girls.”
“We’ve been acquainted since we were children, but he was simply Alex’s older, annoying friend. Now though, we’re extremely close.”
“Might you receive a commitment from him?”
Faith waved away the notion. “It might happen in the future, but for the moment it’s not on the horizon.”
She’d always sworn she would never marry, that no man was worthy of her, but she thought Price might be. She wasn’t on pins and needles, hoping for a proposal, but if he tendered one she’d definitely accept.
He was miserable and discontented, and she made him happy. She absolutely expected they would end up together, and she dreamed about taking him away from England. They would move to Italy or France and would build a life where she could paint and not be derided as a female who had too much artistic talent. He could just be himself and not merely his father’s son and heir.
He didn’t want to be an earl, didn’t want to inherit all that heavy duty to the properties and employees. He had no character traits to be a suitable steward. They’d discussed it a thousand times so they would find a better way to carry on.
“What is your brother’s opinion about all this?” Miss Barrington asked.
“Alex? He’d have a fit so don’t you dare tattle.”
“My lips are sealed, and really there’s naught to tell, is there?”
“No.”
There was a bend in the road, and they could hear a carriage approaching. They scooted over to the side as it rumbled into view. It was a grand coach-and-four, with a driver and several outriders, and Faith bristled with aggravation.
She knew the coach and the servants. She’d grown up at Wallace Downs so it was impossible not to know.
The driver tugged on the reins, and the weighty vehicle shuddered to a stop.
“Who is it?” Miss Barrington whispered.
“It’s Alex’s mother, Mrs. Wallace.”
“Does she live at Wallace Downs? There’s been no mention of her.”
“She did live there—until Alex returned from his exile. There are too many hard feelings between them so she couldn’t stay.”
“May I ask why? If it’s private, you don’t have to explain.”
“The story isn’t a secret. She pressured Alex to wed Eugenia—even though he insisted he was much too young to marry. He’s never forgiven her, and she has never forgiven herself.”
Miss Barrington sighed. “What a muddle this family is in.”
“Of course it didn’t help when Alex showed up with Camilla. Mrs. Wallace couldn’t tolerate his having such a scandalous shrew in residence. Alex bought her a house a few miles from here, but she doesn’t like it and doesn’t feel she should have had to relinquish her home to Camilla. She’s bitter.”
Alex’s mother, Britannia, appeared in the carriage window.
“Hello, Mrs. Wallace,”
Faith said.
“Hello, Faith.” Mrs. Wallace nodded imperiously as if Faith were a rodent she’d run over.
“How have you been?” Even though it was difficult to be polite, she tried her best. “I haven’t seen you in ages.”
Mrs. Wallace didn’t respond to the courteous inquiry, but her disregard wasn’t surprising. She couldn’t abide Faith and could never figure out how to interact with her. Instead, she asked, “Have you just been at the manor?”
“No, we were shopping in the village.”
“Would you know if my son is at home?”
“He’s in London.”
Mrs. Wallace gazed out at the trees as if the mansion might have suddenly become visible through the thick woods. “Has his friend gone with him or has she remained behind?”
“She’s remained behind.”
Faith wondered—if Camilla was in town too—would Mrs. Wallace have sneaked in for a few hours? Would she have loafed in the parlors and nostalgically strolled in the rooms? Would she have pretended she still lived there?
Every aspect of Faith’s bond with her kin was a bizarre tangle, and she thought she might not walk to the village again for quite some time. Not if it meant she might bump into Britannia Wallace.
Faith resembled her mother exactly so Mrs. Wallace was always rude and abrupt. It hadn’t been Faith’s fault that Mr. Wallace had fancied her mother so desperately, but she continued to be condemned for it.
Mrs. Wallace finally noticed Faith had a companion. Her snobbish attention wandered over to Miss Barrington, and she assessed her in an uncouth manner.
She could have been the Queen as she haughtily asked, “Who is this?”
“This is Mary’s and Millie’s new governess.” Mrs. Wallace didn’t like to hear about the twins, but Faith said their names anyway. “Mrs. Wallace, may I introduce Miss Barrington?”
Miss Barrington gave a fleeting curtsy. “Hello, Mrs. Wallace.”
“Barrington, is it?” Mrs. Wallace mused. “I went to school with a Margaret Barrington. You look just like her. She married Lord Middlebury. I don’t suppose you’re related in some distant fashion.”
Miss Barrington seemed startled, then she shook her head. “No, Mrs. Wallace, I’m afraid there’s no connection. Lord Middlebury and his wife sound as if they’d be far above my humble antecedents.”
“You’re much younger than the other governesses we’ve had in the past.” Mrs. Wallace’s tone was scathing. “How did you manage to snag such an important post?”
Faith replied. “Alex hired her. Not Camilla.”
Mrs. Wallace blanched with astonishment. She’d met the other governesses and—in light of her own household experiences—was definitely aware of why Camilla had chosen older matrons. But thankfully, she didn’t comment. She simply harrumphed with what might have been disgust or disdain.
“When you next see my son, tell him for me that I must speak with him as soon as possible.”
“I certainly will,” Faith promised, “but it may be several days.”
“Don’t forget, Faith. I must speak with him. It’s urgent.”
“I won’t forget.”
Mrs. Wallace knocked on the roof of the carriage. The driver whistled to the horses, and the coach lumbered away. Once they were out of sight, Miss Barrington collapsed slightly—as if she’d been keeping herself together by force.
“What an unpleasant person.” Miss Barrington actually shuddered.
“I agree,” Faith said. “She’s had a hard life, and considering what a snake her husband was, it’s enough to make a woman swear off matrimony.”
“Your brother doesn’t take after her.”
“Alex can be snotty and pompous too, but for the most part, no. He doesn’t take after her. He’s much more like his fun-loving father.” Faith paused and scowled. “Or he was before all his troubles began. I’m hoping he’ll be that man again in the future.”
“Does Mrs. Wallace ever visit the cottage?” Miss Barrington asked. “Does she stop by to see the twins?”
“Are you joking? They’re not her granddaughters, and she never crosses paths with them if she doesn’t have to. They’re the walking, talking proof of the catastrophe with Eugenia, and she can’t bear to lay eyes on them.”
“I’m relieved she won’t be popping in, but I have to admit I feel sorry for her. After all, her husband was such a cad, and her various decisions ruined her son and destroyed her relationship with him. It’s all so very sad.”
“Don’t feel sorry for her. She could implement some changes and be happy, but she likes to punish herself. If she couldn’t mope and regret, she wouldn’t know what to do.”
Miss Barrington smiled and linked her arm with Faith’s.
“I’m glad we’re friends,” she said. “If you weren’t available to provide a roadmap to all the family’s skeletons, I’d be lost.”
“Families always have problems, but I’ve never met one quite like ours.”
“Neither have I, and I’ve worked for some very strange people. From here on out, I will view the Wallaces as the epitome of dysfunction.”
“If that’s our only distinction,” Faith sarcastically said, “I am duty-bound to protest and decline to accept it.”
“The truth hurts.” Miss Barrington chuckled. “And since you and I are to be the bulwark to prevent the insanity from worsening, you should probably call me Abigail.”
“I would be delighted—Abigail.”
They hurried off and kept their arms linked all the way home.
* * * *
Camilla was in her bedroom suite when her maid knocked and entered.
“Miss Camilla,” she said, “I have a surprise for you.”
“What is it?”
She was seated at her writing desk and trying to catch up on her correspondence, but she couldn’t concentrate. Mostly, she was staring across the park toward the cottage.
She’d been pondering Alex and his pretty governess. Miss Barrington had to depart, the question being how Camilla could be rid of her without it seeming as if she had.
Alex was inordinately attached to the cheeky shrew, and Camilla wouldn’t tolerate any nonsense. He was off carousing with Price, and she’d like to send the girl packing while he was gone, but she doubted she could get away with it. She suspected—should she fire Miss Barrington again—the impudent tart would refuse to leave.
With all of those worries plaguing her, she was in no mood to be interrupted, and she especially was in no mood to have her maid blustering in with a purported surprise.
“What have you brought me?” she asked. “I’m very busy so it had better be good.”
“I think you’ll be pleased. It appears Master Alex has been missing you while he was away.”
“What do you mean?”
The maid opened the door wider, and several footmen traipsed in behind her. They were loaded down with boxes and bags.
Camilla frowned. “What’s all this?”
“It’s from Master Alex,” the maid explained. “A messenger arrived from London.”
“It’s all for me?”
“Yes.”
The maid had some papers, and she handed them to Camilla. They were an order form and receipt from an emporium in town. Clothes had been delivered. She couldn’t imagine Alex being bothered, but it had been such a long time since he’d given her a gift that she couldn’t deny being thrilled.
But an emporium? Really?
He was aware of her expensive tastes. For her gowns and other accessories, she used Madame LaFarge, the most famous modiste in the city, a Frenchwoman who sewed for all the finest ladies.
Yet beggars couldn’t be choosers. She’d been incensed with Alex over their bitter quarrel about the governess, for his traipsing off to London with Price. Perhaps he felt bad about upsetting her. Perhaps this was his way of apologizing.
And he’d purchased so many things! My, my, he must r
egret treating her so shabbily.
“Put them in on my bed,” she told the footmen.
They carted the parcels into the other room, then they left. Her maid was hovering, eager to investigate the contents.
“Shall I help you unpack, Miss Camilla?” she asked.
“No, I’ll look at all of it by myself. You can fuss with it later.”
“Yes, Miss.” She bowed out, but she could barely hide her disappointment.
Camilla waited until she’d exited, then she went to the bedchamber. As she untied the string on the first box, she was as excited as a child on Christmas morning. But when she pulled off the lid, she was irked to find a blue gown. She didn’t wear the shade because he didn’t like it on her. He couldn’t have forgotten.
She lifted the garment, growing more annoyed as she saw the high neck, the long sleeves. It was cut conservatively in a fashion she would never select for herself. She yanked it out and held it to her chest only to realize it would never fit. Clearly, it had been tailored for a woman who was shorter and smaller than Camilla.
For a moment, she studied the other boxes as if they might be filled with poison. Then she leapt at them, jerking at the strings, tearing off the lids. There were numerous dresses, all in varying hues of blue and lavender, as well as all the matching accouterments a young lady might require: shawls, bonnets, fans, gloves.
In the last box, she found a note from him. It wasn’t addressed to anyone in particular.
I realize you didn’t want me to buy you anything, and I’m sure you’ll deem it to be incredibly improper, but I did it anyway. If you intend to work for me, you can’t gad about attired like a pauper!
He’d bought an entire wardrobe for a servant? An underling who worked for him?
She picked up the order form and noticed what she hadn’t originally observed. The items were to have been transported to Wallace Cottage rather than the manor. Apparently, the deliveryman—being from the city—hadn’t understood the difference.