The Artful Match

by Jennifer Delamere

  “That won’t be necessary, sir.” Miss Leahy appeared at the study door, looking disheveled but triumphant. She pushed her wire-rimmed glasses up her nose and wiped a loose strand of hair from her forehead. “I found her just outside, in the shrubbery edging the house.”

  Miss Leahy was as wiry as the countess, although much shorter. She couldn’t be more than forty years old, but her hair was already showing streaks of gray. Henry thought her choice of occupation—a governess who specialized in difficult children—might have something to do with that.

  “And where is the girl now?” the countess demanded.

  “I sent her upstairs with the nursery maid. She is to sit quietly and think over how she ought better to behave.”

  “A lot of good that will do!” his mother returned. “She ought to be here, apologizing to me for her wretched behavior. And furthermore, she is not to be given her tea until she does so.”

  Miss Leahy frowned. “I do not think a child can be coerced into proper behavior.”

  “Of course she can!” the countess shot back in exasperation. “It’s called discipline. It’s the hallmark of any well-bred person. It’s no use making excuses for why Amelia is out of control. She is so because you allow her to be.”

  Miss Leahy drew herself up. “With all due respect, your ladyship, I believe she acts badly because you push her too hard. Some children respond better to a light touch.”

  This comment didn’t even penetrate his mother’s steely resolve. “I demand you do your job and get that child down here right now.”

  Miss Leahy turned her gaze to Henry, appealing to him to take her side. She had no recourse against his mother except when Henry intervened. He wanted to but refrained. After all, what did he know about raising children? His mother was better qualified on that front, even if she had been a less-than-perfect parent.

  On the other hand, Miss Leahy’s years of experience with troubled children could not be discounted. In the six months she’d been here, she had proven herself right in many situations regarding Amelia. Unfortunately, he could not risk pushing his mother’s ire too far, or there would be worse things to contend with than whether Amelia got her tea.

  Suppressing a sigh, he said, “Miss Leahy, please do as Lady Morestowe requests.”

  “Very well.” A flash of anger in the governess’s eyes punctuated her response. She turned on her heel and left the room.

  Immediately Henry had second thoughts. Should he have taken her side after all? Was it possible that if she were continually forced to go against her better judgment, she would resign? He didn’t want to search for another governess. It had taken months to find Miss Leahy. He could not have foreseen that she and his mother would develop such animosity toward one another.

  The countess pointed an angry finger toward the door Miss Leahy had just exited. “You see how I am treated. Furthermore, Amelia is going from bad to worse. Miss Leahy’s condescension only makes her bolder. Today is a prime example.”

  Henry thought she was overstating things. Although Amelia still had her bad days—such as today—he thought that overall they were making headway.

  He also thought Miss Leahy was a vast improvement over the previous governess. Miss Gunther had managed, through use of an iron hand, to keep Amelia in line. But Henry had let her go when it was discovered her punishments veered into unacceptable territory. He was not averse to gentler forms of corporal discipline, but he could not countenance abuse. By contrast, Miss Leahy had infused kindness and understanding into her discipline of Amelia. At times, it seemed to have the desired effect. But this past week had devolved into a series of endless battles. Amelia was in full-scale rebellion, and Henry was at a loss to explain why.

  Wiping his forehead, he went to the window in a vain effort to find a breeze. He thought of Amelia being found under a bush. It was probably cooler there than anywhere in the house. It was early August, and the real heat had set in. It put everyone’s tempers on edge.

  The weather in London was hot and dry, but Essex had been deluged with rain, delaying the completion of critical repairs needed to make his estate habitable again after the fire. Henry and the others had been stuck in town far past the time when everyone else had left for the countryside. As he looked out at the traffic, it occurred to him that perhaps the answer was to get out of the city anyway. Amelia’s favorite toy was a brightly painted wooden boat. She loved the water and had been begging to go to the seaside.

  He turned back to his mother. “You shouldn’t stay in London. It isn’t fair to you or the child. She longs to run and play outside, and who can blame her? Perhaps you should spend a few weeks at the seaside.”

  Her face brightened at the thought but was quickly soured by a frown. “You would reward the child for misbehaving?”

  It was astounding how quickly she could turn a negative outlook to anything. “Think of it as relief for you. It will be cooler there, and Amelia is not as testy when she isn’t cooped up.”

  “That’s true.” She thought this over. “It doesn’t make me any more approving of Miss Leahy’s methods.”

  “At least she’s willing to do the job. Such people haven’t been easy to come by.” Or to keep. Miss Leahy was the third governess in almost as many years. He wasn’t going to lose her if he could help it.

  Although not entirely mollified, his mother gave a sigh of acceptance. “I shall make plans for us to leave for Brighton as soon as possible. I might have preferred someplace more fashionable, but there’s no point in advertising to the world what sort of child you are keeping for a ward.”

  “Thank you.” Henry was hard-pressed to keep the sarcasm out of his voice.

  “I am sorry to say, that child is turning out to be more badly behaved than her father was at that age. I hadn’t thought such a thing was possible, but there it is.”

  The mention of Amelia’s father made Henry grimace. He hadn’t yet told his mother about Langham’s disappearance from the sanitarium. Given her current mood, he certainly wasn’t going to raise the subject now.

  A heavy thump-thump on the stairs signaled that Amelia was coming down as directed. Ever since the countess had reprimanded her overly energetic way of moving, telling her that “the step of a lady must always be light and graceful,” the girl had taken to deliberately sounding like an elephant on the stairs.

  The countess gave a shudder of annoyance. “I warn you, Henry, my patience is growing thin.”

  Patience isn’t all that is growing thin, Henry thought morosely. Money was, too. Amelia and Langham were both wasting time and precious resources. Henry always had to be the one who kept things on track. He knew it was childish to harbor the feeling that this wasn’t fair. After all, as the eldest son, it was up to him to shoulder the family burdens. But he resented that his unstable younger brother was making those burdens far heavier than they ought to be. Henry could only hope to locate Langham before he caused any irreparable damage.

  Miss Leahy entered the room, her right hand firmly gripping the seven-year-old who was the cause of this strife. Amelia’s face and white pinafore were smudged with dirt, and she was glowering in the countess’s general direction without actually looking at her.

  “Amelia, what have you to say to her ladyship?” Miss Leahy prompted.

  “I’m sorry that I was rude and disrespectful to you earlier, ma’am.” Amelia’s words were mechanical, like a recitation in a badly acted play. The flat look in her eyes as she met the countess’s gaze confirmed that she was speaking by compulsion and not from any sincere regret.

  “And how will you behave toward me at all times in the future?” the countess demanded.

  “With respect, ma’am.”

  “And why must you treat me with respect?”

  “Because you are my elder.”

  If his mother noticed the slightly peculiar emphasis Amelia had placed on elder, she thankfully chose to ignore it. “I forgive you this time, but mind you don’t forget this lesson in the future.�
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  Everything was officially solved, but the air still crackled with discontent. Henry clapped his hands and said with false brightness, “Well, that’s that. I believe it’s time for tea.”

  “Yes, that will be all.”

  Having given Amelia and Miss Leahy this dismissal, the countess looked at them expectantly, waiting for them to go. They looked more than ready to do so, but Henry stopped them.

  “I’d like to speak with Amelia for just another minute, if you please.” He spoke with the same brusqueness as his mother, because if she thought Henry intended to further reprimand the girl, she would be happy to leave and not feel as though she’d been the one dismissed. Sure enough, she lifted her chin with the air of a victor and sailed from the room.

  Amelia stared daggers at her back, frowning at the door even after the countess was out of sight.

  Henry walked over to her and crouched down so he would be at eye level with her, drawing her attention back to him. She regarded him with wide hazel eyes.

  He said, “Thank you for apologizing to Lady Morestowe.”

  Her expression didn’t change. “Miss Leahy said there would be currant tarts for tea.”

  “I see,” Henry replied gravely.

  He felt an urge to laugh, even though finding humor in this situation was as wrong as Amelia expecting payment for good behavior. He ought to be supporting the reproof his mother had given her. After all, Langham’s incorrigible behavior probably stemmed from the way he had been overindulged as a child. Maybe this knowledge was lodged in his mother’s heart as well. Maybe her drive to discipline Amelia was a misguided attempt to make up for Langham. Amelia was her grandchild, after all—even though no one except the countess and Henry knew it.

  Looking at Amelia now, Henry felt sorry for her despite her bad behavior. He knew how hard it must be for a child to be restrained by such ruthless boundaries. Amelia had so much energy and no good outlet for it.

  “I do not in any way condone your behavior today toward Lady Morestowe.” He paused to allow his words to sink in. She continued to watch him, waiting warily for whatever would come next. He gave her a little smile. “However, I do sympathize with the fact that we’ve had to stay in London longer than anticipated. I know you’re anxious to leave this hot and crowded city and return home.”

  Her eyes lit with a tiny ray of hope. “Is the house ready?”

  “I’m sorry to say we still have several more weeks to wait. However, in the meantime, we’re going to arrange for you to take a trip to the seaside. What do you think of that?”

  Amelia’s mouth widened in happy surprise. “Oh yes!”

  Her response was not surprising, but Henry found it surprisingly gratifying.

  “That’s very kind of you, sir,” Miss Leahy said.

  “Perhaps the two of you can continue your nature studies. I’m sure the area will afford plenty of opportunities for that—in addition to recreation and sea bathing, of course.”

  “Will it be just me and Miss Leahy?” Amelia said hopefully.

  Henry straightened. “No, Lady Morestowe will accompany you.” As he expected, Amelia pouted at this. “You will have plenty of time to play outside and explore the beach,” he reminded her. “I expect you probably won’t even see her for most of the day. She will have her own pursuits. But when you are with her, you must always be on your best behavior. That doesn’t sound too onerous, does it?”

  “It sounds quite pleasant,” Miss Leahy put in. “Amelia, after tea you can decide which books and toys you want to take.”

  Amelia started nodding at the word tea, and visions of currant tarts probably kept her from hearing the rest. “Can I go now?” she said to Henry.

  “May I please be excused,” Miss Leahy corrected.

  “May I please be excused?” Amelia parroted.

  “You may,” he said.

  Henry could tell Amelia was happy because the noise as she took the stairs, while still too loud, sounded more like excitement than a mere desire to irritate his mother.

  Was he doing the right thing? Or was he rewarding a child for misbehavior? He couldn’t say. He could only pray that his decisions would help the child and were not foolish indulgences that would harm her character in the long run. But seeing her joy over the trip to the seaside, he understood why his mother had at times chosen to be lenient. There was something about making a child happy that did good to one’s soul.

  He had a moment of disappointment that Amelia had not asked whether Henry was coming with them. But that was foolish. He was not her father, and he had never encouraged her to think of him that way. He was her guardian only, doing his best to handle a daunting task that had been committed to him through no fault of his own. But really, he was Amelia’s uncle, too, even if he could never publicly admit this. Maybe that gave him license to grant her a few wishes from time to time and the right to feel satisfaction in doing so.

  Henry returned to his desk. With the current crisis averted, it was time to turn his worries back to his brother. The letter from the sanitarium’s director could provide only one clue to Langham’s possible whereabouts. Another patient recalled Langham talking excessively about how he wanted to join some friends in St. Ives. He desired to “study the spectacular light that is to be found there.” Not only was Langham still obsessed with this foolish idea of becoming an artist, now he’d devised a new way to waste time and money. He was bound to find plenty of excuses to drink heavily in addition to painting, which would be a big setback to his recovery. So to save his brother from himself, Henry would have to trek all the way across southwest England in order to bring him home.

  The irony was that Langham was ultimately responsible for the other problem Henry had just handled. Henry wanted desperately to disclose to his brother all they had done to protect him. But now was not the right time. It never seemed the right time. Each passing year only made the truth harder to reveal.

  For now, Henry must concentrate on finding Langham and figuring out how to get him to act like a responsible adult.

  It was far more difficult than dealing with a recalcitrant seven-year-old. Even if it seemed, in many ways, remarkably similar.

  CHAPTER

  3

  CARA WALKED SLOWLY down the staircase, her feet dragging on every step. She shouldn’t keep the Needenhams waiting, yet she was reluctant to face what was to come. God had heard her prayers, and now she must keep the vow she’d made to Him.

  Sir John had sent word for her to meet them in the parlor. Lady Needenham habitually spent her mornings here, because the sunlight pouring through the large window was excellent for reading and needlework. As Cara entered, she saw that although the lady was seated in her favorite chair, her hands were idle in her lap. Sir John stood at her side, one hand resting lightly on her shoulder. It was the first time Cara had been in their presence since the night they’d brought Robbie home. Lady Needenham looked tired. She offered Cara a tiny smile, but her lips wavered and there was a dullness in her eyes that hinted she’d not entirely overcome this ordeal.

  By contrast, Sir John’s displeasure radiated from him despite his composed bearing. When he spoke, it was with icy formality. “I assume you are aware that Robbie’s fever has broken and that he is on the mend.”

  “Yes, sir,” Cara replied. “It is wonderful news.”

  Sir John’s frown only deepened. “You are lucky no serious harm came to him.”

  “Yes, sir.” She did not dare contradict him by stating what she knew to be the truth: that God, not luck, had saved the boy.

  Lady Needenham, however, murmured, “God be thanked.”

  Sir John did not even seem to notice it. His attention was fixed on Cara. “Although this event has reached a happy outcome, it does not change the fact that your irresponsible actions nearly caused our son’s death.”

  The words pierced her soul, but they were true. Cara offered a sorrowful nod.

  “Furthermore, you must understand that we cannot allow such
gross negligence on the part of one of our staff to go unpunished. Your employment with us is hereby terminated. You will leave this house immediately.”

  Immediately? Cara felt a jolt of worried surprise. For all the time she’d spent alone with her worries and prayers, she’d not spared a single thought to where she would go.

  Perhaps noticing her dismay, Sir John added, “We will give you the rest of this day to get your things together, but you will be gone before luncheon tomorrow.”

  This was the outcome Cara had anticipated, and yet now that it was here, she found her heart could not fully accept it. She looked to Lady Needenham. Her ladyship had always been fond of Cara, praising her for the way she was able to keep up with such an active child and generally ensure he was where he was supposed to be at the appointed times. The lady’s eyes were misty, but she nodded in affirmation of her husband’s words.

  “That will be all.” Sir John dismissed Cara crisply, expecting her to leave with no other words passing between them.

  But she couldn’t leave before she’d apologized. Not that she hadn’t given countless apologies as they spent hours looking for Robbie. Still, she had to make one final attempt. “If I may say, sir and madam, how deeply sorry I am for what has happened. I have been chastising myself continually.”

  Something flickered in Sir John’s eyes, but it wasn’t warmth. “No doubt you were worried about losing your position. Meanwhile, we have spent these days worrying we’d lose our only son.”

  Lady Needenham visibly winced at her husband’s harsh words. She said quietly, “Thank you, Miss Bernay. We have no doubt that you care for Robbie. The circumstances are regrettable, but you can see why the actions we are taking are necessary.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Cara wished she could tell them of the penance she planned to pay. But Sir John looked pointedly at the door, reminding her she’d already been dismissed.

  Cara gave them a small curtsy and turned away, blinking back tears. In the main hall she paused at the foot of the wide staircase, placing a steadying hand on the railing and trying to regain her breath, as though preparing to climb a mountain and not simply a staircase.