Leaning back in his chair, he forced his hands to relax. “I’m glad you’re setting up a work space in the dower house. Mr. Perrine will be here the day after tomorrow to give you and Amelia your first lesson.”
Cara easily took up this new thread of conversation. Even so, as they discussed what would be needed at the studio, she directed a thoughtful look at him from time to time. She had not completely forgotten the previous subject.
When dinner was over, Henry suggested they go to the parlor. It was the polite thing to do, even though he’d have to figure out how to keep a servant there to ensure no gossip could arise.
Cara said, “Thank you, but I believe I will turn in for the evening.”
“A good idea,” Henry responded. “We’ve had a long day.” Even so, his relief was mixed with an uncomfortable realization that he would have liked to spend more time with her.
“Besides, I thought you’d want to check on Langham,” Cara added.
This had not been on Henry’s mind at all. He supposed he’d grown callous over Langham’s episodes of supposed ill health. Cara’s naïve expectation that he should care enough about his brother to offer help—well, this chastised him.
As they walked up the staircase, Cara paused before a portrait on the first landing. “Today as I was coming downstairs with Amelia, I was quite taken with this one. I asked Amelia about it, but she said she hadn’t seen it before. From the clothing, I guess it is fairly recent—perhaps two decades ago?”
Of all the paintings in the house, Henry was pleasantly surprised that this should be the one to catch her eye. It was a portrait of Henry and Langham as children, playing under a large oak tree. Their mother was seated in a chair, watching them, and their younger sister, Charlotte, who was three years old at the time, was standing in her lap. “I like it, too. I had it moved here when we were rehanging the paintings. I suppose you’ve guessed who those boys are.”
“I have. How charming you are, teasing that dog.”
“That was Ranger. Our constant companion.”
“And the little girl?”
“That was my sister, Charlotte. She died about a year after this was painted.”
“Oh,” she said softly, with empathy. “Does it pain you to think of her?”
“I moved the painting here on purpose. It is a bittersweet memory, as you can imagine. And yet I prefer to place my sister where she can be remembered, not relegated to a dark corner.”
“That is a lovely sentiment.”
“My mother may have different ideas when she sees it. She still mourns deeply, even after all these years.”
Cara directed a look of sympathy toward the likeness of his mother in the painting. “Who can blame her? A mother’s love must be fathomless.”
Henry could hear a note of longing in her voice. She would naturally grieve for her own parents, being orphaned so young.
“Her ladyship looks like a strong woman, though,” Cara added. “I can tell by the way she holds herself and the set of her chin.”
“Strong is a good word to describe her. As you will see when you meet her.”
“Should I be afraid?” she asked, a twinkle in her eye.
“Perhaps.” He spoke lightly to match her tone, but also to mask the truth. There was bound to be trouble in some form when his mother arrived. The only question was how bad it would be.
“Are there any portraits of Amelia?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“We . . . that is . . . I suppose we are waiting until she is older. She’s a little hard to pin down at the moment.”
Cara smiled at his joke, but after a moment it faded, and she said with some hesitation, “Henry . . .”
“Yes?”
“When Langham told me about Amelia’s history, he hinted that perhaps the official story isn’t entirely true.” She looked at him with wide eyes, beseeching him to answer.
Henry forced himself to squelch the anger that always arose whenever his brother indulged in the same gossip as people who knew nothing of the situation. It was reprehensible. Langham now had Cara thinking Henry was Amelia’s father. Unfortunately, Henry could not defend his honor—ironically because he was honor-bound to uphold the story his parents had fabricated years ago.
It troubled him to have to lie to her. It troubled him even more that he had an urge to tell her everything. He’d never been tempted to unburden himself to anyone. Why now, with this woman he’d known only a few weeks? He selfishly wanted to retain her good opinion of him. It suddenly mattered very much. But it was impossible to tell her the whole truth.
He decided to share what he could. Knowing she cared for Amelia told him how to craft his answer. He gave a quick glance around to ensure no one was within earshot before speaking low and earnestly.
“If we’ve chosen not to divulge every detail about how Amelia came to live with us, it is for her sake. It’s wrong to allow any stigma to attach to an innocent child. She deserves to be raised as a proper young lady. That way, when the time comes, she’ll be welcome in polite society. I don’t want anything to prevent her from being able to make a good marriage, to live happily and well.”
Cara took a moment to consider his words. He saw objections rising to her lips. “But—”
“I want only the best for her. Please believe that.” He met her gaze, trying to make her understand he couldn’t tell her more.
“I understand,” she said at last. Her eyes were sad, but she smiled.
Henry’s heart lurched in his chest. For all he knew, she still thought he was Amelia’s father, but at least she was willing to accept things as they stood and not prod further. “Thank you.”
They continued on, not stopping again until they’d reached the second landing, where Cara was to continue upstairs.
She turned to face him. “I would like to say again how immensely glad I am to be here.”
“You are most welcome. I hope you will enjoy your stay.” The rote words came out automatically, which was a good thing, because the sight of her pleasing face turned up to his was suddenly doing strange things to his insides.
“I know I shall. I feel at home already.”
Before he could figure out what to make of that, she turned and went on her way. He averted his gaze, determined not to watch her as she ascended the stairs. What was wrong with him?
He shook his head and walked down the corridor toward Langham’s room. He was met by the butler along the way. “What’s the news?” Henry asked. “What did Mr. Burke say to the idea of the lavender and peppermint oil?”
“He agreed to give it a try.”
“Really?”
“He said that since the suggestion came from Miss Bernay, it would be rude not to.”
That was something, at any rate. How strange if it actually worked.
Henry decided not to visit Langham after all. The butler’s report was good, so he would leave it at that.
He went to his room but sat brooding for a long while.
It was it likely his mother would object to having that painting where it might be seen every day. He had placed it there in an effort, perhaps, to remind them all of the times when they had been more close-knit as a family. Perhaps recalling those times might make his mother a little kinder in her dealings. It might be a vain hope, but he thought it worth a try.
Henry had a feeling Jacob would like Cara. He would see her goodness and appreciate her sincere faith in God. He would see how she was helping Amelia and agree that bringing her here was a good thing. The two of them would get on well.
Though he had no idea why, Henry was pleased at the thought.
CHAPTER
22
JACOB ARRIVED in the afternoon with a wagonload of cast-iron benches. Henry met him on the front drive.
“Where is Amelia?” Jacob asked as he and Henry exchanged greetings. “She always runs out to greet me.”
Jacob had long taken an interest in the girl. Being a father himself
, he went out of his way to be kind to her whenever he visited. As a result, he was one of the few guests Amelia liked. It was just one more reason Henry counted this man a good friend. Jacob didn’t know Amelia’s true parentage, but Henry was sure that even if he did, he would treat her no differently.
“I know she wants to see you,” Henry assured him. “She’s engaged in an interesting project. I’d be happy to show you.”
“I’m intrigued,” Jacob answered.
First they got the wagon unloaded, the horses taken to the stable for rest and watering, and the two men Jacob had brought with him handed over to the housekeeper, who led them to the servants’ hall for their own rest and refreshment.
Finally, Henry and Jacob walked to the dower cottage. Along the way, Henry updated his friend on the issues with the governess and why they had brought another woman to the estate.
“It sounds as though you were fortunate to find this Miss Bernay,” Jacob observed. “Especially if she is helping Langham as well as Amelia.”
“Yes, she even recommended that he administer lavender and peppermint oils for his headache, and it actually seems to have worked. Langham rejoined the world today at noon, instead of being out for a day or more.”
“So she is a miracle worker, too,” Jacob said with a smile.
“I just hope we can convince my mother of that when she comes.”
His friend nodded. “Her ladyship can be rather set in her ways.”
He spoke without rancor, even though he’d often tried to break through her icy reserve. She had grudgingly accepted Henry’s friendship with Jacob, and she certainly appreciated the monetary benefits that resulted from their business dealings. However, Jacob’s middle-class background meant she would never see him as an equal.
For his part, Henry was determined to treat honest, hardworking men like Jacob with the respect they deserved. He hoped the attitudes of others in the aristocracy might one day move in that direction as well.
They heard the talking and activity through the open doorway before they even entered.
Henry would not have believed Langham or Amelia capable of such industry if he hadn’t seen it with his own eyes. Langham had commandeered two footmen, and under his direction they were carrying a tall cabinet out of the room to the parlor at the back of the house.
The front room was filled with easels, canvases, and boxes of supplies. The plain wooden worktable that had functioned as the adjunct office of Mr. Thompson was now placed along a wall. Amelia was helping Cara pull items out of a crate and place them on the table. So far, they had laid out pots and tubes of paints, a stack of paintbrushes, and a variety of tools whose uses Henry could only guess at.
Amelia was the first to see them enter. She ran over to stand in front of Jacob, beaming up at him. “Mr. Reese! I’m so glad to see you.”
Pulling something from his pocket, Jacob said, “I’ve brought you a little present.” As he extended it toward Amelia, Henry saw it was a small bag from a confectioner’s shop. “I hope your guardian won’t mind my giving you sweets.”
“Cherry candy!” Amelia squealed. She tore open the bag, inhaled the cherry scent, and immediately popped one into her mouth.
“Don’t eat them all at once,” Henry admonished.
“I won’t,” Amelia answered, her voice slurred from the candy.
Cara watched this scene with a serene smile. As Jacob’s attention turned to her, Henry thought he read surprise on his friend’s face. Perhaps this was not the type of woman he’d expected. Henry had made it clear Cara was not a governess in the vein of Miss Leahy, but he hadn’t mentioned the age difference between the two ladies.
Cara offered her hand as Henry introduced them. “I’m so glad to meet you. I understand you are Henry’s dearest friend.”
“I’m flattered to think so. I have already heard many good things about you as well.”
They both sent a glance at Henry, and he felt a flush of embarrassment. Jacob would have noticed her use of Henry’s Christian name, and Henry had just spent the past several minutes extolling her virtues. Henry was mortified, lest his friend get the wrong idea.
He turned away to survey the room. “It looks like you are well underway.”
“We are turning this house into an art studio,” Amelia informed Jacob.
“Is that so? How exciting.”
“Did you come to help us?” Cara asked.
Her question was directed primarily at Henry. Even though the lilt in her voice told him she was teasing, he was surprised to find her suggestion sounded appealing. He decided it must be a reaction to the happy buzz of excitement here. After all, he had never been interested in painting. That had been Langham’s domain.
Henry shook his head. “Actually, we’ve come to see if you’re ready to return to the house for tea.”
“Splendid idea!” Langham said, entering the room. “I think we’re at a good stopping point.” He turned to the two men who had been helping him. “That will be all for today.”
“Mr. Jensen likely needs your services,” Henry told the footmen.
“Yes, your lordship,” they said and left the cottage.
“We are nearly to a stopping point,” Cara corrected Langham. She went over to a stack of easels folded up on the floor in a corner. “Amelia, where shall we set up your easel? Do you like this spot by the south window?”
“My easel?” Amelia responded.
“Yes, we brought it from London. It will be your very own.”
Amelia looked so excited that one would think she had never received a gift in her life.
Jacob must have thought so, too. Speaking with a smile, he murmured to Henry, “I don’t think my gift of sweets can compare to that.”
They began to set up the easel, Cara showing the child how to adjust the horizontal bar for height, and the way to set the back legs so the canvas would be at the desired angle for painting. “This will be yours,” Cara reiterated. “You can even paint your name on it, if you like. Or add any other decorations you choose.”
If Henry had known this was all it took to make Amelia so happy, he would have done it long ago. But was it the act of painting itself, or the fact that she was part of some important activity with these two people? Maybe she was lonely for companionship. There had always been people around her, but they were adults in supervisory roles. The grown-ups did not exist to keep Amelia entertained, but allowing her to join in their activities might be beneficial.
It was one reason he found himself readily agreeing when Amelia said, “May we all take tea together?”
Cara couldn’t deny a certain fascination with Jacob Reese. He was Henry’s best friend, and even more interestingly, the brother of the woman Henry had been in love with. If Amelia really was Henry’s daughter by Olivia, that made Jacob her uncle. If so, was Jacob aware of this? Was that why he was so kind to Amelia? He truly went out of his way to include her in the conversation during tea.
For her part, Amelia had been fairly well-behaved while having tea with the grown-ups. Perhaps Jacob’s presence helped, because he appeared happy to listen to her chatter about a variety of subjects, including their recent visit to the Crystal Palace.
Langham excused himself before the rest of them had finished eating, saying he wanted to return to the studio and do some painting while there was still good light. “I’ll see you at dinner,” he had said, making it clear he wished to spend the time at the cottage alone.
Cara couldn’t blame him. They’d been so busy preparing the studio that they hadn’t actually done any work. Langham would be anxious to get to it. He also looked as though he was wearying of Amelia’s company. Her manner had become progressively sillier, egged on perhaps by Mr. Reese, who encouraged her to talk about the dinosaurs and other things that interested her.
But Cara recognized this last burst of energy that signaled a child was fighting off tiredness. Not long after Langham was gone, Amelia’s vitality began to flag, and she kept interrupting h
erself with yawns. They had worked hard at the dower cottage, and there had been no opportunity for her to rest. “I think it’s time we went upstairs,” Cara said.
“But I haven’t finished telling Mr. Reese about the stalactosauruses!” she protested, even as she tried to suppress another yawn.
“I believe you’ve told him quite enough,” Henry returned. “And in any case, Mr. Reese and I have work to do before dinner.”
It didn’t take much more cajoling to get Amelia to acquiesce. Especially as Cara was going upstairs with her.
“You are coming down for dinner, aren’t you?” Jacob asked before she and Amelia left. “I feel I’ve barely gotten to know you—what with all the conversation being on other things.” He sent a smile and a wink to Amelia as he said this.
“Yes, of course.” Cara was pleased to see Mr. Reese so amenable to chatting with her. There was so much she wanted to know. Aside from her natural curiosity about the man himself, she felt he was the key to understanding Henry.
Tonight’s dinner was going well, Henry thought. Perhaps he felt less pressure, as there were four people at the table tonight. Even Langham had shown up, claiming he was “positively famished” after so much hard work at the studio that afternoon.
Henry had barely managed to conceal an eye roll at his brother’s comment. He didn’t see how it could compare to the work he and Jacob had been doing. Henry was expending every effort to repair the estate and keep the family finances afloat. It wasn’t easy. Getting cut out of a deal by the Duke of Crandall would make it hard to attract other members of the aristocracy to back his plans. They often bowed to the duke’s point of view in such matters. It didn’t exactly make Henry a pariah, but it certainly didn’t help.
Fortunately, Jacob’s business insight, his contacts with wealthy men not of the aristocracy, and above all his solid faith that God would help them, all left Henry feeling better about his prospects than he had this morning.
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