by Julia Donner
After Ferris had relieved her of the pelisse, Emily squinted at the card she still held. “Shooting did you say? It’s a bit early in the year for that.”
“The Brocktons are known for keeping their coveys well-stocked. Sir Hugh asked that I inform you that he has accepted on your behalf an assembly at Asterly House, Wednesday evening next. Would you like me to extend your regrets?”
“No, Ulrich, thank you. I shall attend. Am I to understand by his illegible handwriting that he will not be home this evening?”
“Those were my instructions, my lady.”
“If it is not beneath your dignity, Ulrich, please assist Nurse Everlund to settle the boys.”
Even though nothing showed on the surface, she sensed his disdain of the task. He bowed and took the boys in hand. They were terrified, just as she expected. The snooty valet would dampen their enthusiasm. They were over-tired and over excited.
Emily peeled off tan gloves and handed them to Ferris as they went up the steps. “Do I have a presentable gown with me?”
“You will by Wednesday. There is a bath ready when you wake. What Herr-No-Sense-of-Humor neglected to tell you is that the invitation has a political context. Lady Asterly sent a note, which I’ve placed on the top of your correspondence. A great many invitations arrived since Sir Hugh had the doorknocker hung to announce his early return to town. It will be a highly active season if the stack you have waiting to be answered is any indication.”
Emily stifled a yawn. “They will survive until tomorrow. The boys insist on Astley’s as soon as possible. I do hope Sir Hugh has nothing planned for tomorrow evening. I doubt we shall return from Lambert until dinner. If I am able to stay awake for it. Whatever happened to my youth? I’m not fit for any rig and row any longer, Ferris. I believe you are right. Nap first, then bath. Dinner in my room this evening. If I wake up.”
Chapter 15
Hugh returned from the shooting party too late to see Emily and his sons before they went off on one of her promised London adventures. Disappointed to have missed them, he spent the day clearing his desk of correspondence. He sensed that Ulrich was in some sort of snit and did all the writing himself. He had too much on his mind to spare time for a touchy servant, even though he was known as one of the finest manservants in England. Sir Harry Collyns had the effeminate but excellent Phipps, even more temperamental than Ulrich. Hugh knew this for a fact when he’d tried to entice the man from Sir Harry’s employ. Phipps had actually started to weep at the mention of abandoning his famous patron for another.
Handsome Harry would have let the man go without a fuss, such was his lack of concern over the trivial, especially since Sir Harry had made Phipps, not the other way around. This had come as a great surprise to Hugh, making it the last time he gave a thought to replacing his arrogant manservant and secretary.
As afternoon wore into evening, Hugh began to worry and pace a bit. He’d tried to read but that didn’t work. He released a sigh of relief when he heard Waldo and Howie scampering up the steps to the next floor. Their excited chatter echoed down the passages as he opened the hallway exit from his dressing chamber. He followed the excited voices up to their bedroom, where he caught his two ruffians leaping and bouncing from bed to bed, wielding imaginary swords and clumsy attempts to enact some of the easier feats they’d seen at the amphitheatre.
It was a pleasure to see Waldo act more like a child than a too-old boy. His heir brandished a pretend sword in a two-handed clasp as a proper claymore should be held. Howie shrieked a badly garbled Gaelic cry as he grabbed a pillow and beat back his brother.
An odd-sounding chime brought everything to a halt and Hugh sought the source of the sound. While he stared at a carved wood clock on the wall, a blue-painted bird pecked his head out the flipped-open hatch. Strangely mechanical bird calls announced the hour of eight.
“Papa!” Howie leaped from his bed, across to Waldo’s, then to the floor. His enthusiasm caused him to stumble but he righted himself before Hugh could get his hands out to catch. Waldo stepped down from the bed and assumed his careful, collected attitude.
Ruffling Howie’s hair, Hugh gestured with a jerk of his chin at the clock. “What sort of timepiece is that?”
“A cuckoo. We got it this morning.”
Waldo, with a dignity and restraint that twisted Hugh’s heart, came forward to explain. “It’s from a place in Prussia. Schwartzwald. Step-mama bought it for Howie. We visited the clock shop for Howie and Hatchards for me.”
Hugh strolled to stand beneath the clock. “What books did you buy?”
“I’ve placed them on the bookshelf. She purchased five and said that if I needed more before the end of the Season, that I should ask for a return to the bookstore. Was that too extravagant, Father?”
“No. May I see what you have acquired for your personal library?”
He followed Waldo to the bookstand near his bed, where he gestured with quiet pride to the new volumes that wafted the rich scent of leather. “She suggested Tacitus in Latin, a recent work of fiction, and that the rest could be whatever I fancied.”
Hugh arched an eyebrow. “Tacitus?”
“She thought it might be helpful, since Father Edgards started me in Latin just prior to our coming to town.”
Hugh nodded and glanced through the titles. “Two more of history, I see. One of art history and a female novelist. Son, do you truly have an interest in this, Frankenstein, or The Modern Prometheus?”
“She asked me to try it. If it is not to my taste, we shall replace it with something else, but she hoped the replacement would be fiction.”
All of this came as great surprise to Hugh. Emily had never much liked learning. She’d always preferred to be out-of-doors, trudging the hills, fishing and climbing up trees from which she could never descend without assistance. She invariably became irritable when she had to ask for help, a prickly situation then that now made him smile.
From the corner of his eye, he kept watch on Howie, who was inspecting, and coveting Waldo’s recently bestowed sgian dubh from where it sat on the windowsill. He didn’t remove the small knife from its sheath, merely stared at it, as if willing the blade to fly out into his hand.
“Howie, will you join us?” When Howie skipped across the floor toward them, Hugh asked, “Waldo, I’m curious, did she give you a reason for this eclectic selection?”
Howie leaned into Waldo, who thoughtlessly draped an arm around his brother as he replied, “She said that she could see me as a political force one day and wants me to meet Lord and Lady Asterly. I believe they are accepted arbiters in politics, are they not?”
Hugh suppressed a grin. Had he been such a prig at that age? No wonder Emily teased him to the point of distraction. “Yes, they are, and in closer acquaintance with your stepmother than I. But you did not answer the question. Or are you embarking on politically clever rhetoric at a young age?”
“Certainly not, Father. She said a varied taste and interest in many topics allows for broader understanding. She admitted that she has no patience for reading but enjoys hearing how others speak about what they’ve read. She’s learned much from attending lectures, hearing a variety of opinions. She advised that it would be wise of me to become a better listener. Then judge for myself.”
“I doubt I can improve on that advice without some thought. Howie, tell me about your clock.”
Howie beamed, exposing that he’d lost another tooth. Both missing from the front now. Sorry to have missed that childhood milestone, he listened attentively.
“Papa, these are becoming all the rage, but this one is special. It has brass teeth and metal innards. More sturdy, the shopkeeper said. This type of clock is carved during the winter then sold to peddlers. This one came from…from—”
“Schwartzwald,” Hugh said. “That’s from the Black Forest region. The mechanical bird makes a curious but lovely sound, does it not?”
“Oh, yes! And it has to be wound every week. Let me show you.”<
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When Howie reached for the pinecone at the end of its chain, Waldo stopped him. “Remember what Step-mama said. It must only be done once a week or the clock might be damaged. You have five more days. Remember?”
Impressed, Hugh looked back at the clock. Emily had found a way to force the impulsive Howie to control his behavior. The poor child had to wait and watch for a whole week before he could wind the clock. Torture for an overactive boy like Howie.
He cupped Howie’s chin and lifted. “You’ll call me to let me watch you do it, won’t you?”
“Oh, yes, Papa. That would be grand. Do you know what else she bought me?”
When Hugh raised his eyebrows in a silent question, Howie scampered to his bed, leaned down and withdrew a box from underneath. He set it on the bed, opened the lid and brought back his prize.
In both hands, he offered up for inspection a gleaming sextant. “When I told her I wanted to go to sea when I grow up, she said I must have one of these and that you know how to use it.”
“Well, now, as it happens, I do.”
“Do you know, I think she started crying when she bought it. Aren’t girls silly? When will you teach me? Now?”
“When time will allow, but you must learn mathematics first. Then I’ll show you how to navigate to anywhere in the world. But if you’ll excuse me, I shouldn’t like to keep your Step-mama waiting. It’s after eight.”
Howie yanked on his sleeve to stop his leaving. “Papa, she played cricket with us. She knows a lot of things.”
Waldo stepped closer. The hint of what looked like worry gleamed in his serious gaze. “She does, Father. She taught us to swim and where to tickle for fish. Even though she says that she never reads, she knows a great deal about books. She even knows how to use the sgian dubh.”
Hugh could clear up that mystery. “I was taught and I showed her. I don’t know what to say about her education. I do remember that she didn’t care for it, but that she’s quite intelligent.”
“She knows all about dogs, too,” Howie whispered, as if it were a magical ability. “I don’t like it that she calls Bruiser girl names, but she’s got him to stop digging in the flowers and not to jump up on us. Can we keep her?”
“The dog? Of course you may.”
Waldo leaned in a bit, and with lowered eyebrows, sagely clarified, “He means Step-mama, not the dog.”
For an instant, Hugh felt as if he’d slipped into an alternate realm and wasn’t sure why. It should have been a humorous moment, but wasn’t. His reply came out a bit sharper than he would have liked. “Whatever gave you the idea that she could be given away? We are married. She stays. You stay. Until you’re off to school.”
His sons paused to exchange looks, a silent, visual conversation sent a quiver of alarm up his spine. How had he fathered two such strange children? They were like a pair of changelings.
It was Howie’s turn to clarify. His expression was wiped clean of all mischief, replaced now by distress and fear. “But Mama went away. She died, you know.”
Those eyes, gazing up at him with anxiety and so much hope, nearly unmanned him. He knelt and gathered his sons close. “Emily is not going to die. She cares a great deal for you.”
Howie withdrew slightly. “Not for you, Papa?”
Looking down into Howie’s sincere worry, Hugh felt a frown wrinkle his forehead. “I shouldn’t make promises, son, not after all we’ve been through. But I do know that she would do anything for the pair of you.”
When they nodded in solemn agreement, he stood. “Now, your supper should be here any moment. I’m sure your new mother has no plans to leave us and any number of plans and adventures for tomorrow. Get rest and don’t slay too many dragons before bedtime.”
A hesitant question from Waldo stopped Hugh in the middle of opening the bedroom door. “Father, do you have a friend by the name of Blake?”
After sorting through a rush of odd feelings that included the chill of alarm, Hugh turned back. “I know of someone by that name, yes. Why do you ask?”
Chapter 16
Emily hurried down the steps. She hadn’t seen Hugh yet but had heard the distant rumble of his voice from the next floor up. Since she and the boys had gotten back quite late from their excursions, she’d sent them immediately up to their rooms for their meal. There had been no time for a nap, only for a swift change of clothes and a flying trip downstairs.
An incident at Astley’s, an awkward encounter with Langston Blake, had delayed their return and kept her on edge. Her aggravated nerves still felt abraded from the unpleasant episode. She couldn’t relieve the aftereffects with rationalizations. No matter how she told herself to put the event out of her mind, she couldn’t rid herself of the memory of Langston’s determined arrogance, the intentions he relayed in vulgar double entendre remarks, since children were present. His innuendos made it clear enough to her that he expected to resume their former relations.
Hugh met her in the passage outside the dining room, having been on his way up to escort her down. As they sat down to dine, he acted unaware of her distress, which helped to soothe her anxiety.
She pushed aside the portion of grouse, nudging it around the plate. Her stomach complained its empty state, but dismay had stolen her appetite. Why did Langston persist so? Perhaps she should never have told him that his lovemaking had left a great deal to be desired, namely, any semblance of enjoyment for her. She measured Langston’s utter mediocrity as a lover with his total obliviousness to his lack of skill. After all, there was mediocre and beyond that there was appalling.
Why had she allowed him to try a second time? A colossal mistake. She’d never been able to rid herself of the residual nausea from the memory. Why other women spoke so highly of his prowess left her boggled. A wealth of dark hair, bulging musculature and a larger than usual masculine member didn’t make up for an astounding lack of finesse. His conceit and total self-involvement in the act had her expecting him to offer payment or an expensive bauble at its completion.
“Emily?”
Her fork clattered against the plate. She jerked her attention away from the neglected grouse to Hugh’s piercing gaze. “Hhmm?”
“I asked about your appetite. You’re still not eating much. Perhaps we could have your favorites instead of mine.”
“Oh, no, but thank you. I pretty much like everything. It’s been a tiring day. I shall be as hungry as a bear come morning.”
He set down his fork and knife and continued to study her as his plate was removed for the next course. “Did Waldo and Howie exhaust you today? You didn’t return until half-past seven.”
“They had a difficult time leaving the amphitheater. I have no doubt that at this very moment they are reenacting the swordplay and riding feats in their room. Leaping from bed to bed. Jousting with imaginary lances. They had a marvelous time.”
When the footman slid a plate of poached salmon in front of her, she sighed and reached for the fork. This, she could eat and shook her head at the accompanying sauce he offered. When the footman came to his side, Hugh poured creamy sauce over his larger portion. She forced herself not to watch. The sight of it made her stomach roll. At least she wasn’t casting up her accounts every other minute as she’d heard other pregnant women endured.
While she worked up the resolve to finish the fish, Hugh said, “I believe you are right in regards to the activities upstairs. The boys were in ecstasy as they described the wonders of the performances. They demonstrated some of the grander feats and showed me the clock and books.”
Salmon got stuck in her throat when he added, “They also mentioned that you met a friend while at Astley’s.”
Her first inclination was to push away from the table and flee the room. Hugh’s tone had been calm enough, but she’d known him most of her life and heard the underlying implication.
He knew about Langston. Had the boys said his name? She didn’t remember saying it to them and had done everything possible to ignore the man when he
entered their box without invitation or permission. She had thought the boys too entranced with the dancing ponies and daring riders to pay any attention to the entrance of an adult. She should have known better. They were secretively clever, like their father.
Her mind raced through the event, scouring her memory to recall every detail. She had pretended calm indifference when Langston entered, but had been torn up inside with fear and frustration. Anyone and everyone could see them in the box, see them together and in the company of Hugh’s sons. The persistent lout had ignored her outright refusal to acknowledge his presence, nattered on and on as if he were welcome. She had no idea how to get rid of him. As the minutes had passed, suppressed panic had put her in such a state that she might have shot him if she’d had a pistol. Not that she knew how to use one, but her worry of what Hugh would think of her meeting with a former lover, in public view, with his sons in tow, had every hair standing on end.
On the drive home, she took a moment to recall her immediate leap to protect Hugh’s reputation and not precisely her own. This discovery came as a startling surprise, but then she felt glad for this newfound regard. A husband deserved respect, especially a spouse with Hugh’s sense of responsibility, a gentle form of possessiveness. George had been negligent in that area. He had scarcely noticed when she spent too much time with other men at parties, never commented nor cared if she went off with one of them. He’d been too busy with his own flirtations.
She struggled to swallow the morsel of salmon. It had been poached in wine and oranges. Hugh must have instructed the cook about her appetite. She sought time to think of an answer by setting down her fork and patting her lips with linen, taking an inordinate amount of time to arrange the cloth over her lap. Hugh kept eating as if he were in no hurry to hear her reply. He would never insist that she answer. He would politely wait to see if she would.
How easily and quickly she had become accustomed to his protection, his kindnesses. There was comfort and safety living under the wing of Hugh’s sense of rightness, his easy, almost indifferent show of consideration for others and the social amenities. Why had she never appreciated his courtesy?