The Artful Match

by Jennifer Delamere

  “It’s getting late,” Henry pointed out. “Time to go.”

  “I don’t want to go!” Amelia declared.

  “You just said you were tired and thirsty. I’m sure we can find you something to drink, or maybe an ice, in the Crystal Palace.”

  “Can’t you bring it here?” Amelia’s voice had taken on a distinct whine that Cara recognized as the prelude to a tantrum. The girl’s frustration with not being able to draw as well as she wanted had piled onto the end of a long and energetic day.

  “We can’t stay,” Cara told her. She stood up and extended a hand to Amelia. “Let’s walk there together, shall we?”

  “No! I’m too tired!”

  Langham winced at the piercing sound of Amelia’s voice. He put away the pencils and the sketch pads. “I’ll meet you there,” he said and walked off, clearly eager to put some distance between himself and the whining child.

  “We have to leave sometime,” Henry told Amelia, no doubt thinking he was speaking reasonably.

  “I’m too tired!” Amelia moaned. Then she began to cry. Great loud weeping sobs.

  The panic in Henry’s eyes showed he was at a complete loss. Cara supposed she ought to have known they would wear the girl out with all the walking in the heat, but she hadn’t been thinking like a nanny today. She had merely been enjoying this outing as much as the child had.

  She gave Henry what she hoped was a reassuring smile and then sat on the bench. She placed one arm on the bench behind Amelia, who was now crying with her hands to her face. Cara thought there was more going on than a typical child tantrum. She sat quietly, not speaking, looking over the child’s head at Henry. Whereas Langham had only wanted to leave when Amelia became unruly, the stricken look on Henry’s face told Cara he really wanted to find an answer. Cara admired him for that.

  “Everything will be all right, my dear,” Cara assured the girl. She gently lifted the straw hat from the girl’s head, and Amelia turned and buried her head in Cara’s shoulder. Cara held her in a loose embrace, allowing the child to cry herself out.

  She thought back to the times at the orphanage when she’d been tired or sad or out of sorts. The staff there had always been kind, but they’d never shown individual affection. How could they? With two thousand children, it would have been impossible. At those times, Cara had been so grateful for her sisters—especially Rosalyn, who had often filled the role of a mother for Cara, giving her comforting arms to cry in.

  Henry did not move or speak. He stood watching them both, waiting. Whatever his relationship to Amelia was, this situation could not be easy for him. When Cara was a child, she never thought about the lives of the adults around her, whether they had problems or worries. Now, of course, she knew very well that they did.

  In time, Amelia’s sobs died down. When the child was done, Cara waited another full minute before speaking. “Perhaps your cousin Henry will carry you back to the Crystal Palace.”

  Henry’s look of panic returned.

  To counteract this, Cara said brightly, “I’m sure you don’t mind, do you?” Amelia was perhaps too old to be carried, but she was not tall for her age, and Cara thought Henry would have no trouble.

  Watching the changes in his expression, Cara admired Henry’s determination to bring himself around to the idea. It took several moments, but he finally found his voice. “Yes—that is, I’d be glad to, if Amelia is too tired to walk.”

  Amelia straightened, wiping her eyes. Pushing the hair from her face, she looked hesitantly at Henry.

  “We’re bound to find lemonade, or perhaps even cherry ices, in the Crystal Palace,” Cara continued as a way of prompting the girl to make the right decision.

  Heaving a great, hiccupy sigh, Amelia pulled herself to her feet. She and Henry looked at each other, both equally unsure what to do next. Cara suspected there had never been any real displays of affection in their family. It made her doubly glad she’d suggested this. She gave Henry a nod and an encouraging smile, and he hesitantly approached the girl. Then Amelia lifted her arms, and Henry scooped her up in a move that seemed natural, even if he’d never done it before. She laid her head on his shoulder, and he adjusted his hold to get her in a comfortable position. It was so touching that it left Cara misty-eyed, even as the three of them proceeded back up the hill to the Crystal Palace.

  CHAPTER

  16

  IT WOULD HAVE BEEN IMPOSSIBLE for Henry to explain what was going on in his heart and mind just now. The sensation of this little girl clinging to him, trusting him to carry her, moved him more than he would have thought possible. He supposed he did love this child, even if he had often resented the responsibility of her care.

  And what to think of the woman walking beside him? She had no reason to extend herself for Amelia as she had done today. He had watched her interactions with Langham as well, looking for signs that their relationship might be moving into improper territory. Yet he saw nothing between them other than an easy interaction that seemed, implausibly, like friendship. Perhaps they really were simply two people drawn together through their love of painting.

  He ought to be glad that Langham’s regard for Cara seemed to be progressing no further. He was already dealing with one woman who had used Langham’s misplaced affection for personal gain. Amelia’s mother kept pressing for more and more money, even though she had given the girl over to Henry’s care. With his family’s financial situation already in a precarious position, he did not need any more such problems.

  At the same time, he found himself mystified that Langham’s interest in Cara seemed so platonic. With her golden hair, round blue eyes, and smooth, pale skin, she was exactly the type of woman celebrated in poetry as an English Rose. She was also kind and seemed truly guileless. How could a man spend so much time with a person like that and not be tempted to fall in love?

  Not that Henry was in danger of doing that, he hastened to assure himself. His heart was forever bound to Olivia. But for Langham, it would surely have been easy. Langham was too friendly with people he’d barely met, jumping over normal social boundaries. A few times this had blossomed into romances that had thus far been short-lived. Perhaps it was good that Cara did not seem to be entangled with his brother; perhaps she was not as naïve about these matters as she appeared.

  Amelia’s head moved against his shoulder, her soft hair brushing against his cheek. It spurred an urge to protect her, to do his best to make her happy—not merely as a provider, but as something more.

  He wished Langham could be the one holding Amelia, and also that Langham knew this child was his. Henry thought that if what he felt right now was accompanied by the knowledge that he was the child’s father, it would multiply into something inexpressibly profound. If he had seen some indication that Langham cared for Amelia, he might have been tempted to tell him the truth. But Langham had shown no real interest in her other than the few minutes when she had wanted to draw. He had physically distanced himself the moment interacting with her became difficult. This was not a man to try to shape into a father. He was too mercurial, too selfish.

  Thinking over today, Henry recalled Amelia’s fascination with the boats on the Thames and how she’d gravitated toward the water’s edge in the dinosaur park. It reminded him of the first time he’d taken her to the seaside. She had been in his care only a few months, and it was her first contact with the ocean. She’d been enthralled by the waves sweeping in and out on the beach. She had looked for shells and squealed with delight as she’d chased the sea gulls. At her request, he’d taken her out in a small rowboat. He’d worried that she might get queasy as the boat rocked in the swells, but Amelia had taken naturally to it. Despite her little tirade just now, he was glad he’d been talked into coming here today. Perhaps it made up in some small part for having her holiday at Brighton cut short.

  “How shall we find Langham?” Cara said as they approached the entrance to the Crystal Palace. “There are so many people here.”

  Henry
did not hesitate, for he knew his brother well. “I suggest we try the restaurant.”

  Sure enough, they found Langham in the restaurant near the terrace. He was stretched comfortably in his chair, watching the passersby. There was a glass on the table in front of him.

  Henry bent his knees, lowering himself until Amelia’s feet touched the floor. Slowly, and it seemed to Henry somewhat reluctantly, she loosened her grasp. Once she was on the ground, she stood up straight and smoothed out her frock. She must have still been tired, though, for she lost no time taking a seat in one of the chairs at Langham’s table.

  “What are you drinking?” she asked, looking at his glass.

  “Cherry brandy with a splash of aerated water. Very refreshing.”

  “Cherry! That sounds good.” Amelia licked her lips at the mention of her favorite flavor.

  “I’m glad to see you have regained your good temper,” Langham said with a smile. “I know I have.” He lifted his glass and drank the last of the brandy.

  “Lemonade would be better for you, Miss Amelia,” said Henry.

  He pulled out a chair and seated Cara, embarrassed that his brother had not even bothered to stand. He was sure the drink Langham had just finished was not his first. Cara accepted the gesture, moving with simple grace. Even the pat she gave to her hair to check that all was in order seemed unconscious, without putting on airs. He noticed her delicate fingers had a few traces of blue and green paint at the fingernails. He wondered what her paintings looked like. What kind of subjects did she paint? Maybe he’d ask to look at them sometime.

  “Something for you and the ladies, sir?” said the waiter, bringing Henry back to the task at hand. He ordered three glasses of lemonade. “Make that four,” he amended with a significant look at Langham. “We still have to get ourselves back to London.”

  “I have menus here, should you care for something to eat before the journey,” the waiter offered.

  “Yes, sandwiches, please,” said Amelia. “And cream cakes.”

  “I’ll do the ordering,” Henry said. But he softened his reproof with a smile. Perhaps it was a good idea to eat something before they left. This way, Amelia could be rested and fed before they started back, just to ensure there was no repeat of her tantrum in the dinosaur park. He gave the waiter an order for sandwiches and cakes and added a plate of fruit as well.

  Cara give a little sigh of delight. “It all sounds lovely.” She was fingering the fine linen on the table and looking out at the manicured lawn and sparkling fountains. With her background, she probably had never been able to indulge in these kinds of simple luxuries. She would have had to watch every penny.

  “I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself,” he said.

  “Oh yes!” This enthusiastic response might also have been a reaction to the tall glasses of lemonade being set on the table by the waiter. As she studied her glass, she added joyfully, “Is that ice?”

  Amelia’s face scrunched a little, her expression clearly communicating her surprise that Cara would find such delight in something so mundane as ice in her lemonade.

  When the food arrived, they made a jolly meal of it. Cara exclaimed over everything. Langham, perhaps buoyed by the brandy or else simply by his joy in the subject, talked to Amelia about drawing. Henry was surprised that she seemed willing to entertain the idea again after she had considered her previous effort to be such a failure. He supposed being strong-willed made her more resilient, too.

  After the meal, they walked back to High Level station, Henry once more carrying Amelia. She was silent in his arms, and he could tell she was beginning to nod off. When they got on the train, he placed Amelia next to Cara, and it wasn’t long before the child was fast asleep, snuggled into Cara’s side.

  “Thank you,” Cara murmured to Henry as the train began its journey back to London. “It was such a treat to be able to accompany all of you today.”

  “Thank you for your help with Amelia,” Henry returned.

  Although he did not say it aloud, this day’s adventure had been a rare treat for him, too. Spending the day in the company of this woman had been a big reason for it.

  Everything went smoothly—until they got Amelia home.

  While Amelia was asleep on the train, they’d all agreed that, to be sure the nursery maid was able to get her to bed without further incident, it would be best for all of them to go to the town home together. That way Cara could help out if necessary. Cara was pleased that Henry had this confidence in her. She could tell as the day progressed that he’d been growing warmer toward her. Their initial rough beginning had been smoothed over by their mutual interest in Amelia. Cara was sure Henry’s love for the child was stronger after today. What good things might lie ahead for them all in the future? She decided she’d done the right thing by coming today, and God had blessed her for it.

  When they reached the house, the front hall was brightly lit, and several maids and a footman were on hand to greet them. The light and activity roused Amelia. She stood in the hallway, rubbing her eyes, while Henry gave instructions to the staff.

  “Here is Jeanne—she’ll take you upstairs,” Henry told Amelia, referring to the housemaid who also had duties in the nursery.

  Jeanne offered the girl a smile, but Cara detected apprehension in her eyes. On the train Henry had shared that while Jeanne was more than competent in keeping the nursery and caring for Amelia’s wardrobe, she was out of her depth when it came to dealing with the girl’s behavioral issues.

  Amelia turned toward Cara. “Aren’t you coming?”

  Cara shook her head. “Jeanne will help you to bed.”

  “But I want you to take me!”

  “Don’t argue, Amelia,” Henry ordered. “You’ve had a nice day, and now it is time to go to sleep.”

  Amelia didn’t budge, her eyes still on Cara. “Are you coming back tomorrow? We can go to Hyde Park! Or the zoo. Or the roller rink—that’s so fun!” There was a hint of desperation in her voice.

  Cara didn’t answer. She and Langham were going to Arthur Hughes’s garden party tomorrow. But even if she had been free, that didn’t mean going out with Amelia was the best thing, nor even that Henry would approve it. That was his decision to make, after all.

  “We’ll talk about it tomorrow,” Henry said.

  “No, we won’t. When you say that, it means no!” Amelia’s voice got higher with each word.

  Langham, who was waiting for this to be over so he could escort Cara back to the studio, put his hand to his forehead and murmured, “Not again.”

  Jeanne reached out to take Amelia’s arm. “Come on, now, miss. Don’t give his lordship a hard time.” It was a halfhearted effort, though. It was clear Jeanne was a little afraid of the girl.

  Amelia easily wrenched free of the maid’s grasp. She stood in the center of the front hall, her face red and her hands on her hips, staring at the adults around her as though daring any of them to come after her.

  Cara moved with an intuition honed by experience. She would take the girl upstairs, but she would do her best to ensure it did not count as a win or encourage such behavior in the future. She swept past the girl and began to walk up the staircase, speaking in a cool, authoritative tone. “Now, Amelia, I’ve told you before about keeping your voice calm. I know you are tired, but there is no excuse for not behaving well. Let’s remember all the fun we had today and not spoil it, shall we?”

  By now Cara had reached the first landing. She sent a quick glance back. As she had expected, Amelia had begun to follow her up the stairs, like being pulled by a magnet. Jeanne followed the girl, keeping a safe distance. Everyone else remained where they were, their faces turned upward as they watched this procession with surprise.

  Crossing the landing and starting up the next set of stairs, Cara continued to speak reproving words she hoped the child would receive. She did this all the way up to the next floor and as they walked down the hall to the nursery. She opened the nursery door and ushered Amelia and th
e maid into the room.

  Cara knew Amelia’s physical exhaustion would eventually overtake even the strongest urge for resistance. The walk up two flights of stairs seemed to have mellowed her somewhat. Even so, the moment they were in the nursery, she turned, seeking Cara as though worried she would walk out.

  Cara closed the door and stood with her back to it, holding the child’s gaze. “If you hurry and get ready for bed, and allow Jeanne to help you, then I will tell you a special story.”

  There was a pause as Amelia stood there, her brow furrowed. It was a posture Cara had seen a number of times already. The wait wasn’t long. Amelia walked over to Jeanne and then turned around so the maid could unbutton her frock. Jeanne gave Cara a look of surprised gratitude and then got to work.

  Cara settled herself in a chair next to the bed and waited. She did not want Amelia to think of her as a servant. If she was truly going to reach this child, she had to remain in a position of authority.

  “Thank you, Jeanne,” Cara said as Amelia climbed into her bed. “That will be all for tonight.”

  “Yes, miss.” Jeanne gave her a little curtsy and left the room.

  Cara sat there, savoring a moment of stunned joy. Someone had curtsied to her. It was a nice sensation to be treated as a superior. One that Cara could get used to with no trouble at all.

  Amelia tugged at her sleeve. “What’s the story?”

  Cara turned her attention back to the child. Amelia was settled into her pillows, looking at Cara expectantly.

  “This is a story about a little girl who grew up in a very large house.” Cara spoke as though she were reading from a storybook, and she used hand gestures to emphasize how big this house was. Remembering Amelia’s reaction to the word orphan on the first night they met, Cara deliberately avoided saying the word. “The little girl lived in this big place with hundreds of other children.”

  Amelia’s eyes grew wide. Her face brightened as she said, “Hundreds?”