Chapter 4
Quentin Wolfe had eaten his meal alone, as he usually did. In fact, it was rare that he ever shared a meal in his own home. James Reed, who had lunch with him once a month while working on estate business, was the exception.
He didn’t entertain for several good reasons.
First of all, he didn’t have anyone to act as hostess for him, and as he had no intention of ever becoming emotionally involved again, it was unlikely he would ever have a hostess.
Secondly, where was the enjoyment of entertaining when one was alone in the world?
Thirdly, how did one entertain when one was lacking in imagination as he was? He was occasionally invited to a dinner to make up numbers, but those invitations were, more often than not, from acquaintances in already well-established circles.
His evening meal was the way he unwound after the busy days he spent managing his estate. He was known to travel miles surveying and participating physically in new projects or restoration work. His various business investments and the political intrigues that were like a game of chess to him, taxed him mentally. In the evenings, he relaxed his body and emptied his mind. He had discovered when young that he was gifted with a head for figures. With figures, you knew exactly how things stood because they couldn’t be twisted and remain true. They were either black or white. If there was a shade of grey, it meant there was a mistake somewhere. He found it particularly satisfying when he was able to root out a mistake and put it right.
Most of the memories he associated with his father were those when they went over the accounts together. He knew that it was the one area which might lead to a word of praise from the older man. With the exception of the accounts, their father never sought him out, never consciously made contact. Quentin considered that he had been luckier than his brother, though, because their father never bothered with Jeremy at all. It was as though he didn’t exist. It was considered a great day when he acknowledged that Jeremy was even in the same room as he. More often than not, it was by pure hazard that their paths crossed with that of their father’s, and most of the time they didn’t even know whether he was in residence or not.
All these years later, when it was too late to talk with his father, he wondered if the fact that their mother had died when Jeremy was born had anything to do with his attitude towards his younger son. He supposed that avoidance had been better than cruelty from someone who might feel bitter towards the child that had brought about his wife’s death. No doubt, it wouldn’t have occurred to him that he had been responsible for putting the baby there in the first place….
It hadn’t mattered too much though, as Jeremy had transferred all his affection and admiration to him, the older brother. They’d had each other.
Thinking of figures made him remember the £12 per annum that had transformed itself into £20 per annum, and that thought led to Miss Eversley. She was the most infuriating woman he’d ever had the occasion to meet. He never lost his temper and within an afternoon, she had provoked him twice where he had come close to losing control.
He thought back to the market place where he had, alas, first noticed her. As he’d had agricultural business in Hatfield, he’d been to the small employment agency in the town hoping that they might have someone to replace the children’s nanny. They hadn’t laughed at his request, but they had made it plain that it would be a rare day that they would have someone that would meet his standards for that type of job. It had been when he’d passed back across the square that he had remembered that there were often people hiring out on a Thursday market day. He was more familiar with the market in St Albans, so hadn’t immediately thought about the one in Hatfield. A shame because he had the impression that it was nearly over for the day.
She had been sitting on a stool daydreaming. Her peachy-pink dress with the mother of pearl buttons suited her. Its colour cast a flattering light on her skin and made her blue eyes stand out. The straw bonnet framed an appealing face and the image as a whole had drawn him to her on the off-chance that she might do for the position. She’d looked like a peach ready for the picking.
What was he doing sitting here thinking about Miss Eversley? He had decided that he would try to find someone else to replace her as quickly as possible. He couldn’t bear having his authority questioned. He smiled remembering she hadn’t been able to get away quick enough. The children had arrived before she had been able to wiggle out of their agreement. It was strange, nevertheless, how she had suddenly decided she didn’t want to stay. It was niggling him. He didn’t remember saying anything that might have given offence.
Women were so unpredictable, he’d sworn off them. He preferred keeping a safe distance to avoid the complications women inevitably created. He shuddered thinking how close he had come to making a fool of himself with Irene. Comparing Irene to Faith, (what was he saying?) comparing Irene to Miss Eversley made him realise that Irene had been an illusion; a sham from start to finish. She’d revealed her hand in time for him to draw back, thank goodness. With Miss Eversley, there was no question of her being devious. She was far too outspoken and direct for there to be any deceitfulness.
Bugger.
He had to change this line of thought. It wasn’t taking him anywhere that he wanted to go.
He went to the cabinet holding the spirits and fortified wines and poured himself a brandy before continuing through the door that led to the drawing room. He dropped into an armchair. Brandy glass in hand, he slowly swilled it around watching the liquid leave a pellicle on the inside of the glass before rejoining the mass. He put the glass down on the side table without sampling the contents. He drew out his watch to see the time. Half past nine. He never went to bed this early. It was only just beginning to be dark. Never mind. Perhaps he would go up now and get an early night. It was going to be a busy day again tomorrow, if he were to go into St Albans…
His valet, Whittle, was already a step ahead of him with a bath waiting in his dressing room. Whittle, Francis Whittle, was one of those enigmatic men of uncertain age who appears out of nowhere and is only there when you need them. He might be in his late forties or early fifties, still trim but with greying hair. He had been with Quentin ten years but it had seemed a lifetime. A wonderful man that could anticipate his needs when he himself hadn’t known he had them.
This was the perfect way to end a day, he realised as he sank into the warm, relaxing water. There was the tiniest hint of a sensation that briefly crossed his mind that perhaps the best way to end a day was in the arms of a woman like Faith. But he hurriedly scrubbed it away before it could latch on to him. His nights weren’t restful. Worries haunted him in dream form and try as he might to correct problems in his waking hours, they slipped past his vigilance at night in a different shape.
Another bright, sunny day dawned. He’d gone down to breakfast half expecting to see Miss Eversley. Governesses did eat with their employers, didn’t they? He seemed to remember that his had, when he was young.
By ten o’clock, he was in the library behind his desk, a large, double pedestal affair made of yew with a dark red leather insert. Of all the rooms in the house, the library was certainly the most pleasant. The thick, oriental rug filled the central area with its dark reds, blues and purples and subdued any sounds within. There were bookcases on three sides of the room with spaces left for the door on one side, the four tall windows looking out over the drive on the second and with bookcases and a built-in cabinet for maps, estate papers and other documents on the third. Quentin’s desk stood in front of the cabinet giving him easy access while seated there. On the fourth yew panelled wall to the right of the door, was a dark marble fireplace with two armchairs and side tables. There were two very large paintings hanging on either side of the fireplace that were of Quentin and Jeremy’s father and grandfather. Quentin showed a resemblance to both men, although the portrait of his father showed an astonishingly handsome man. Today Quentin wouldn’t be able to say whether he had been or not, or
whether the artist had simply wanted to flatter him. It didn’t matter. The portraits were only there for decoration.
The room smelled of wood, leather and paper and appeared a male domain. The fact was that no woman had lived in the house long enough to influence the room in any way.
There was a tap on the door.
“Come,” he announced clearly.
Miss Eversley entered wearing a rather plain dress. It was what one would call a washed-out blue. The colour still suited her and if anything, being neutral, gave her an advantage. For some reason, today, she made him think of a bilberry that was beginning to ripen. She definitely made him think of fruit. Her dark blond hair was neatly pinned up showing simple earrings that sparkled as she advanced in the sunlight. Her face had a bloom to it that made her look healthy, wholesome with pink cheeks and lips.
Where was this leading? Oh yes, he would have to give her a small allowance for clothes when at work. There was a certain standard to be maintained by his staff. Wait a minute — wasn’t he going to look for someone else to replace her? He’d stood as she’d entered and then asked her to ‘please sit’.
As an opening to negotiations, he’d asked if everything was to her satisfaction — her rooms, breakfast, the children’s accommodation and furnishings? She replied that everything was as it should be, although she would like to make a few changes with the second-floor furnishings; was that possible? And then he sat there looking at her, wondering what to say next.
“Would you like to give me your first impressions of the children? Mary found them a little difficult to handle. Christopher is sullen and Helen boisterous.”
“Before I discuss my observations and sentiments on the subject, I feel I have to broach the subject of their parentage. When I undertook the task of caring for them, I was under the impression that you were their father. I’m afraid that their situation has a great bearing on their behaviour, so I need to know.”
“There is nothing complicated about the situation really. It is quite straight forward. As their uncle, I was named their guardian and as their parents are dead, I have taken them in.”
Faith’s mouth dropped open before she could react. She quickly clamped it shut before a plethora of scolding words could escape her.
Good grief. He was a cold fish. Where were his sympathies concerning the children’s loss and apparently, that of his own sibling? He saw it as a mathematical equation. This plus this equals that.
She glared at him. She’d meant to put water in her wine, but now she wanted to add some fiery liquid to it. He shifted in his seat feeling that perhaps something wasn’t quite right. She was glaring at him.
Faith was glaring at him, but she wasn’t seeing him, as she was trying to gather all her thoughts together. This was about the children. She couldn’t leave them now when they’d accepted her unconditionally. Their uncle might be an ‘oaf’ but he had every right to do with them as he pleased.
“May I presume that you have never had children?” she decided to try another tactic. It allowed for his ignorance in treating children.
“I’ve never been married,” he replied and then blushed realising that marriage had nothing to do with it, so quickly added, “no children.”
She nodded her head with an “hmmm” sound. He did have the good grace to look a little sheepish.
“Helen seems to be a happy child. She amuses herself and only asks for attention when it is something she thinks is important. She is still young enough not to have realised what has happened to them and she has already adapted to their situation.” She paused.
“Christopher is a very bright boy. I would be extremely proud if he were mine. But being bright has been his weak link, because he has no illusions as to what has happened. For him, as for you, his parents are dead and you’ve taken them in.”
“Well, he is bright then,” Quentin agreed feeling justified.
“May I speak freely?” she enquired a little dryly.
“Of course,” he replied begrudgingly, expecting a direct attack.
“He feels unwanted here and considers he is a burden to you. He knows that there is nowhere else to go and at four, he is already waiting for the day when he can leave.”
“That is ridiculous. He’s not a burden, he’s my nephew. I wouldn’t have accepted the guardianship, if that had been the case.”
“Have you spoken to him?” she wondered.
“Spoken to a four-year-old — about what?”
He honestly didn’t know what she was going on about.
She was suddenly very sad and felt tears misting her eyes. She blinked furiously to stall them. This grown man was insensitive. He was incapable of empathy or sympathy. Perhaps he was a victim too, but there was no point in taking on the world.
“I think I understand. Was there anything else you wished to discuss?” she asked reconciled to the fact that she had to manage for the children’s sake. She didn’t want to have to leave them, so from now on she would be docile, conciliatory with Mr. Wolfe.
Quentin had the definite impression that he had been dismissed. He didn’t feel very generous, as he was supposed to be in charge.
“Am I to understand that you are happy with the children and the general arrangements?” he began with the idea of trying to back her into a corner.
“Yes, indeed.”
“Then manage them! I don’t wish to hear any more of your impressions or theories concerning their sensibilities. Should you feel that it will be too difficult for you, please let me know with a week’s notice so I can make other arrangements. If a week is too long, you may leave without notice and I will find another solution. I am not without resources. That will be all for the moment. Thank you Miss Eversley.”
‘Glare’ was too gentle a word for the way she looked at him now. She quietly got up, curtsied with a smirk on her face and left.
Damnation. He didn’t feel any better. He felt more like he’d just shot his own foot. He wasn’t stupid. He’d made a fortune with his own wits. He was able to foresee political change ahead of others by logical analysis and reflection. His library was full of books that he’d read. He spoke French, damn it. Why did he feel that he’d just lost a match?
Bloody, bloody woman. He was thirty-four-years old and he’d been outdone by a ‘however young she was’ woman… It had taken him (he took out his watch) twenty minutes flat to lose.
He left the library and asked Stokes to tell someone in the stables to saddle his horse for him. He ran up the stairs two at time to change into his riding clothes. The groom and his Friesian, Bruegel, were waiting at the front for him. He mounted, and turned to the side to go across the parkland before reaching open land, where he gave Bruegel his head and tried to eliminate his frustration with speed.
Faith had gone up to the second floor quietly not wishing to draw attention to herself should she meet anyone. She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, but she was furious. Mr. Wolfe might have an excuse for his behaviour, but she didn’t want to know. He was a grown man. She actually felt hate for him. Perhaps the word was a little too strong, because she didn’t wish him dead. No, she found him despicable. But that was neither here nor there, because he’d told her to manage the children and that was what she intended to do.
One of the maids had been with the children while she had been in the interview with Mr. Wolfe. It seemed that Mary had already left, and she was beginning to understand why she hadn’t wasted any time. She now took over, releasing the maid and telling the children that they were going out for a walk.
They were delighted. They put on their shoes and were ready in a wink. Faith grabbed up a wicker basket that was in the schoolroom and off they set.
“What is the basket for?” asked Christopher.
“We are going on a treasure hunt,” Faith explained, “and anything you find that looks like a treasure will go in the basket, so we can bring it home.”
Both children had smiles on their faces. Helen was natur
ally cheerful. She would no doubt grow up with a resilience that would stand her good throughout her life. Faith took both their hands and kissed them. Helen laughed while Christopher just looked at her as though it were a strange thing to do.
They too started off over the parkland, but rather than continue to the open fields, they played amongst the trees and climbed the ones that had low limbs. Helen was a little monkey and quite fearless with it. Christopher brought Faith an empty nest that he’d found near a tree. It was amazingly round and so well woven that it was difficult to believe that a bird had done it.
“I believe this is a robin’s nest,” Faith told him. “It is the first treasure of the day.”
Not to be outdone, Helen arrived with a large pinecone.
“And this is the second treasure today,” she said smiling at Helen.
“Now you have to find some,” Christopher told her quite logically.
“We shall see…” Faith replied.
They started back home when it neared to lunchtime. They came out of the woods a little way down the drive, so walked back along it. Faith was looking closely at the stones that made up the drive and suddenly swooped and picked one up.
“I do believe I have found the third treasure of the day,” she said with a laugh.
“Look.”
Christopher looked at the stone in her hand, which seemed quite ordinary until she flipped it over, and there in the stone was a fossil.
“Why, it’s a stone snail.” he exclaimed.
“One never knows where treasures might be lurking,” she told them as they entered the side of the house. She popped her head in the kitchen as they came in.
“We’re back home Millie, and something smells mouth-watering good.”
“Why thank you, Miss Eversley. I’ll get someone to bring it up to you in the nursery. Excuse me for asking Miss Eversley, but I did think that the master was going to bring you here to introduce you to everyone. Was I mistaken?”
“I’m afraid I can’t say. I saw him this morning, but he didn’t mention it. Perhaps at some later hour? I’m sure he must have a lot on his mind, Millie.”
She avoided committing herself in any way.
“I expect you’re right,” Millie agreed.
“Come along children, upstairs we go. Let’s count the stairs and see how many there are.”
Faith loved making a game of the most boring things, and she had a knack for it. Christopher, in his four-year-old mind, thought how much fun Miss Eversley was and he took hold of her hand quite naturally. Faith smiled the smile of a victor.
Quentin had come home a little more composed than when he’d left. He’d missed lunch in his effort to calm himself, but he could always ask Millie for a tray. Bread and cheese would be enough. He’d come to the conclusion that he would avoid Miss Eversley from now on as there was an obvious conflict of personalities that did neither of them any good. She seemed to care for the children, though, so he was going to leave her in place until the time when something might change his decision.
His estate manager, James Reed, was more than capable of handling any queries that she might have, and he would provide a small sum of money to cover any little expenses she might incur on behalf of the children. He would also give instructions to Reed about the clothes allowance for her, from which all members of staff benefited. This included one pair of shoes per annum.
He was seeing Reed tomorrow for the monthly going-over of the books. In the seven years that he had worked for him, Quentin had seen that he was competent with the accounts, having never found an error in his figures. He was also sound with any suggestions he made about the management of the estate, so Quentin was satisfied that he would cope with all eventualities. Yes, that would be the ideal solution.
There was one last chore that he had overlooked in his haste to be away — the introduction of Miss Eversley to the staff. It might be opportune to organise it for the evening meal, because everyone would be there. He asked Stokes to let the staff know, and he would now go and see the children and inform Miss Eversley.
He climbed to the second floor hoping that they were in. He heard a soft, husky voice singing. A little puzzled he came to the nursery door, which was slightly ajar. Not wishing to interrupt, he quietly pushed the door open a little wider and saw that both children were lying down for their nap, and Miss Eversley was between their two beds singing to them. Helen was already asleep, but Christopher was holding Miss Eversley’s hand while she sang. He looked ready to doze, so Quentin said nothing, although a tremor ran through him as she finished the song on a very low note. She gently posed Christopher’s hand on the bed and slipped towards the door silently. Quentin stepped back to let her come into the corridor and she pulled the door nearly shut behind her. Without speaking, she indicated that he was to follow her into her parlour. The parlour was separated from the children’s nursery by her own bedroom, so there was little chance that their voices would arouse the two.
“I must tell you that you have a very pleasant singing voice, Miss Eversley. It is certainly suited to lullabies or soothing songs. The children are indeed lucky to benefit from it.”
“Thank you. It is a pleasure for me to sing too. I forget all the rest when I sing. Did you come to see the children? We had a busy morning and as they are both so young, I thought a short nap before afternoon tea would do them good. It will only be for a short while.”
She felt she should explain.
“Actually, I came to see you as well. I completely forgot the introductions to staff, so hopefully you will be agreeable, perhaps this evening at mealtime? I also wanted to let you know that my estate manager is coming tomorrow. I would like to introduce you both, as he will be handling any questions you may have concerning money or allowances. Would ten o’clock tomorrow morning in the library suit you?”
“Yes, I’ll get one of the maids to keep an eye on the children then.”
He didn’t know how to leave. He’d come to say what he’d wanted to say and it seemed too little.
“What did you do this morning that tired the children so?” he found himself asking.
“We went to the woods on a treasure hunt and climbed trees before coming home. Helen wears herself out without any encouragement.”
“You climbed trees too?” he was a little incredulous, as long skirts weren’t normally conducive to climbing.
“I’m afraid so. It is my way of combating old age,” she said smiling. “As long as I can do it, I stay young, and the day I can’t is the day I fall out of the tree and break my neck. Fair is fair as I don’t wish to be old anyway.”
He laughed.
She was surprised that he could laugh. It softened his face and she imagined she could hear the boy in him. She instinctively took advantage of his good humour.
“There was one thing I wanted to ask you…do you suppose that at some time in the future you would permit the children to have a puppy? It would also fall into the category of learning how to take on responsibility and learning about animals.”
She didn’t feel too confident.
“As it’s to be in the future, I hope you won’t mind that I don’t answer immediately. I’d like to think about it.”
“Thank you for not saying ‘no’ off-hand.” She smiled.
There really was nothing he could think to say to her now. So, he left saying, “I’ll see you later in the kitchen for the introductions — about eight.”
She sat in an armchair not knowing what to make of Mr. Wolfe. He’d made the effort to climb to nearly the top of the house and had been polite. Perhaps he was hoping to smooth things over and start again?
Quentin didn’t know what to make of Miss Eversley. She’d seemed calm and reasonable and actually human. No matter. Best to avoid her. He’d probably go to London as his friend Jasper had been urging him to do for months now. Jasper was well embedded in London life and being a bachelor ensured that he was invited to every event where there might be unmarr
ied women hoping to find a match.
If he went with Jasper, there was always the tiniest chance that he might meet someone who pleased him more than a little. He wasn’t one for using brothels, though. The idea actually disgusted him, if he thought about it too much. He’d be more inclined to have a mistress, providing he found someone that suited him. Well, he wasn’t in London yet, so he’d think about it later.
Quentin arrived in the kitchen only minutes before Miss Eversley. All the staff were present as it was the main meal of the day. The staff presentations were made by the butler, Mr. Stokes, so Quentin was only there to introduce Miss Eversley. She’d had the occasion to meet various people beforehand, but now it was official that she was the children’s governess. As she had already eaten with the children, she left as the others began to sit.
He had only to return to the dining room to be served by Stokes. He did sense that he was the odd man out eating on his own, but it had always been like that, and it would be hard to change now.
Quentin went to bed a little later than the previous night, but it made no difference to how well he slept, which was poorly. This time he remembered part of what he’d dreamt. Quite simply it was Faith singing to the children, but when she saw him arrive, she told him to go away; they didn’t want him. The dream lasted longer, but it left him feeling horribly rejected. Now why would he dream something like that? It hadn’t happened. He was almost glad to wake up.
James Reed arrived promptly at nine o’clock the next morning. He wasn’t as tall as Quentin, but his physique was a solid body of someone who works physically. His clothes reflected the time he spent outdoors. His charcoal coloured coat was worsted, his white shirt contrasted with the black neckcloth tied simply, while his trousers were a lighter grey tapering down into black riding boots. He did not ‘dress’ for the meeting with his employer as Quentin had told him long ago that it wasn’t necessary. His wavy hair was a brown that had been lightened by the sun. His outdoor life had turned his skin a coppery colour which made his eyes all that much bluer. Women had been heard to say that he was ‘a pleasant man to rest one’s eyes upon’ when they were also thinking quite simply that there was more than their eyes they’d like to lay upon him.
There was a routine. He would come to the dining room and have a coffee and perhaps a bun with Quentin before they withdrew to the library to work.
Today, Quentin began by filling in James about the new governess. He’d asked him to register her wage as £20 per annum and to accord her a staff dress allowance. He’d asked his opinion about miscellaneous money to be spent on the children should she feel they needed something like paints, for example. James suggested that 1 shilling a week per child would be more than adequate, even extravagant but they were his family. Quentin bowed to his better judgement and that was settled.
There was a tap at the door and Quentin called to enter. It was Miss Eversley, so both men came to their feet. As governess, she was considered less of a servant than the others, and in many households, the governess not only ate with the family but was known to participate in family activities. Of course, sometimes she might actually be a ‘poor’ member of the family.
She had put her peach coloured dress on today. She must only have the two, Quentin thought distractedly. He introduced James to her with a brief explanation about her dress allowance and the money for the children. Any financial queries should be addressed to Mr. Reed, who lived in what had once been the hunting lodge on the estate. She thanked her employer for the allowance. She and James exchanged a few comments about her settling into the household and things in general before she excused herself with a smile saying the children were waiting. The door shut quietly behind her.
James looked at Quentin wondering whether he was going to add anything to the meeting they’d just had.
As he said nothing, James said simply, “She is quite impressive.”
Quentin frowned.
“What do you mean?”
“Well, you have to admit that she is very attractive and on top of that, she has her wits about her. An interesting combination, wouldn’t you say? How old is she?”
“I’ve no idea. I didn’t ask her as it wasn’t relevant to the job. She looks young enough to run after children and that was all I needed to know.”
“Right, shall we start with the agricultural business or was there something else you wanted to do first?” James asked, changing what seemed to be a sensitive subject.
They spent most of the day going over business with a break for lunch and then tea around about four o’clock. Quentin wasn’t quite as attentive as he usually was. He put it down to having slept badly, but his mind did wander to James’s comment about Faith being impressive.
After James had left, he asked to have dinner in the library. He was feeling mentally exhausted and yet he knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep. When the dinner things had been cleared away, he went to get the bottle of brandy. Perhaps if he had a couple, he’d relax and sleep the better for them.
He sat in an armchair to the side of the room away from the windows where he could see that there was a full moon rising. It was more secluded, and he was less distracted when he wanted to concentrate on something. He wasn’t sure if this was the second or third brandy that he’d had, but he was certainly feeling more relaxed now. He would just finish this one and then go to bed. He quaffed the last of the liquid feeling it burning its way down. He reached over to the little side table to put the glass down and he missed it. The glass fell without breaking to the carpet.
Blast, maybe it had been a fourth brandy and not a third. He laughed at himself.
There was now white light coming into the room from the full moon. He hadn’t bothered with a lamp as night had only fallen after he’d been in the room for a while. He got up and as he turned to go to the door, he tripped and fell back onto his bottom and then his back. He was now lying full out on the thick carpet, chuckling. The last time this had happened to him, he’d been twenty. Nearly fifteen years ago. He was having a hard time remembering what had happened in those fifteen years. Had anything much happened? Ah yes, his brother had died and he’d taken in his children and an impressive governess.
He lay on his back quite comfortably looking at the moonlight on the plaster ceiling. The rosette in the middle looked weird with the shadows it cast.
The library door opened, and he watched fascinated as someone crept in with a lighted candle. He didn’t say anything, laughing to himself as he imagined the person jumping out of their skin should he sit up. A current of air blew out the candle at the same time that Faith, because it was Faith, reached his feet and fell over them.
She shrieked, so he grabbed her, pulling her to him so he could put his hand over her mouth. He slurred a ‘shhhh, you’ll wake the whole house’ before he realised how soft she was, how lovely she smelt. She wasn’t struggling or protesting so he removed his hand and placed his mouth there.
He suddenly ached.
He kissed her tenderly and then rolled away. He felt quite sober all of a sudden. She didn’t move. So, he put a hand out to touch her thinking perhaps she was dead; that he’d squashed her.
She spoke then saying, “I hope it’s you Mr. Wolfe because if it’s anyone else, I won’t be able to blackmail them.”
He laughed so hard that he had to hold his stomach. She sat leaning over him.
“I suppose you think I’m joking Mr. Wolfe…?”
“I don’t care. It was worth it. Come here,” he said grabbing her again, “you can blackmail me twice.” Whereupon he kissed her again, holding her face between his hands, their mouths were open to one another. He couldn’t remember a kiss that had ever affected him so. He felt himself harden as the kiss deepened and she moaned. This time he rolled farther away. He had to stop now, or he didn’t know where it would take them. He covered his eyes with a hand.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. It’s quite out of character for me. Blackmail away,
if it will get me a pardon.”
He could hear that she was breathing heavily.
God, it had had the same effect on her too. Her breath finally came back to normal.
“I want a puppy,” was all she said.
Neither of them moved. He was happy looking up at the ceiling knowing she was lying on the carpet probably doing the same. He turned on his side and went up on an elbow to look in her direction. He could see her profile in the moonlight which was tantalising. She was wearing a nightdress and he had the impression that her hair was in a long plait.
“I am sorry. It was unfair of me. Please be assured that you won’t have to worry about a repeat performance. No doubt you will find a puppy somewhere. That being the case, you may keep it. Excuse me if I leave you to yourself now. I can assure you it’s for the best.”
He got up on wobbly legs and managed to leave without further disgracing himself.
He slept better. He supposed it was the brandy. He had pleasant dreams too, which may have been the brandy, but that was less certain. It was probably due to his close encounter with the governess…
When Faith had finally come to her senses, she too got up on wobbly legs. She didn’t bother looking for the candle; as she had no way of lighting it. Anyway, there was moonlight enough to find her way back to her room. She crept into her bed and lay there straight as a poker while her mind flew in every direction trying to find a solid purchase. She settled with the notion that Mr. Wolfe had been drunk. That cleared half the problem. The other half was she. She had responded to his kisses. Her eyes began to water at all the implications that that fact now exposed.
She was attracted to him physically, and they lived in the same house where she would see him on a regular basis. She could not allow anything to interfere with the care of the children, but how does one control something as intangible as desire? They didn’t even like each other. She took the corner of the sheet and wiped her eyes. She finally went to sleep sometime in the night.
-o0o-
Faith had done her best to avoid Mr. Wolfe over several days. She hadn’t wanted to confront him immediately after the episode in the library for two good reasons.
Firstly, she didn’t want the embarrassment of blushing and stuttering and all the other things one does in front of the person one is physically attracted to.
Secondly, she didn’t want the embarrassment of him acting as though it hadn’t happened or that it was of no significance or that it happened to him all the time. It was just easier to stay away from him.
The children were marvellous. They were such sweethearts that she soon forgot her personal worries, and the days began to find a routine.
One day when they were in the schoolroom, one of the maids came up to say that a Mrs. Brosnan had come to visit with her children and wondered if Faith, Christopher and Helen would like to go out with them for a walk?
Faith looked a bit puzzled as she didn’t know a Mrs. Brosnan. The maid, named Rose, seeing her questioning look, quickly explained that the Brosnans lived on the property adjoining that of Mr. Wolfe’s. Mr. Brosnan, besides being his neighbour, was also a friend. Faith thanked Rose asking her to tell Mrs. Brosnan that she would be right down as soon as the children had put on their outdoor shoes. Both children looked quite eager to meet other children, so they got ready quickly. Faith looked to see that there was nothing amiss and then they went down the front stairway.
There standing in the entry hall was a tall woman with a girl and a boy nearby. The children looked about the same in age as Christopher and Helen, although the girl was the older. Faith couldn’t help admiring how lovely and elegant Mrs. Brosnan looked, even though she was wearing a casual walking dress of light green. The hem was scalloped and decorated with a darker green material made to look like leaves but the rest of the dress was quite plain.
There was just a hint that she might be increasing, as her waist was the only aspect of her that didn’t look slender. Her chestnut coloured hair, hazel eyes and fair complexion were quite striking when played against the pale green, so regards did not linger on her waist. But that alone wasn’t what impressed Faith the most. It was her smile that was so charming and welcoming that Faith felt that she’d known her for the longest time.
She greeted Faith with one hand extended while the other held her straw bonnet.
“Hello, I’m Eloïse Brosnan. I heard that the children were quite settled in now with a new governess, so I thought it would be pleasant to spend some time together. This is my daughter, Kate and my son Ben. Kate will be six on her next birthday and Ben has just turned three.”
Kate looked a lot like her mother with dark red hair, hazel eyes and pale skin. Ben had dark brown hair and brown eyes. They were both good-looking children.
Faith took Eloïse’s hand for the briefest moment saying, “I am delighted to meet you. My name is Faith Eversley, and I am especially happy that the children are so close in age. They are sure to have a lot in common. I presume you haven’t met the children before?”
“No, we haven’t had that pleasure. They haven’t been here very long,” Eloïse informed her.
“Christopher is five and Helen is three,” Faith told her, “but they both seem older than their ages.”
She’d said that Christopher was five (as he soon would be) because she didn’t want Kate to feel he was too young for her to play with. She pulled Christopher and Helen to her telling them to say hello to Kate and Ben. Kate immediately put an arm around Christopher pulling him aside a little. Faith heard her ask whether he had any animals, because they had a dog and a cat. Before she knew it, they were both talking away six to the one, a half dozen to the other. Helen had gone up to Ben and was telling him that she loved to climb, did he? Both Eloïse and Faith had smiles as they began tying their bonnets to go out. It seemed that this was going to be one of those windfalls that bring a lot of joy.
Faith felt at ease with Eloïse who apparently felt the same way. She spoke about her beloved husband Henry whom she’d met when they’d been children. Their families had been neighbours in Berkshire and the children in both families had spent at least five years sharing times together. Henry’s family had moved away to North America to join other members of their family already making a decent living there. Of course, as children, they’d had no way of keeping a contact with the other family. Twelve years had passed when she had met Henry again by the purest of hazards. He’d returned to England on family business, and they’d met in the street in London.
They knew that it was fate, as they had both recognised each other as adults. Everyone knows what an enormous city London is, and yet they were in the same place at the same time. As the French say, it was ‘un coup de foudre’, a strike of lightning, and they were married within six weeks. She assured Faith that even seven years later she had lost nothing of her love for him.
Faith was like a young romantic girl listening to Eloïse’s story. She sighed when it ended in the present. It was at that moment that it came to her that the missing ingredient in her life was something that Eloïse had. It wasn’t just love but the feeling of a mutual belonging.
“What a marvellous thing to have happened to you! One really does have to believe in fate when such things occur,” Faith exuded.
“When this happened to us, Henry decided to make his home here rather than return to America. His family’s carpet business is thriving and they needed someone here to transact for them. So, you see, everything has fallen into place with no resistance.”
Eloïse took hold of Faith’s arm as they walked along behind the children. They had taken the path at the back of the house that led through the flower garden, past the vegetables and into the orchard. Faith realised that Eloïse’s charm was natural. She had made her feel comfortable from the very first moment, and now they were exchanging stories as though they had known one another for years.
Faith had related how Mr. Wolfe had found her in Hatfield on market day and told that her
aunt lived just outside Hatfield. She said how she had immediately felt an affinity to the two children and would be the happiest of women if they’d been her own children. She did not mention the clashes she and Mr. Wolfe had had. She felt it wasn’t proper for her to mention anything about Mr. Wolfe and his attitude or their points of disagreement.
They talked about the area and how Eloïse and her husband had come to own the property that adjoined that of Mr. Wolfe’s. They had both wanted to live away from London but within fairly easy access for Henry’s business. A business associate had mentioned that the property was to sell after a long litigation concerning the inheritor’s rights. Once the law had settled all quarrels within the owner’s family, he had promptly sold it to be rid of the unpleasantness it had engendered, or perhaps it was to spite the others who had caused him trouble.
She and her husband had loved the house and its land upon their first visit and were sure that the owner had never set foot there, or he wouldn’t have wanted to sell.
Eloïse encouraged Faith to come visit with the children so that she could see for herself what a wonderful place it was. Faith smiled and agreed to come before too long.
During this time, the children were enjoying themselves playing hide and seek amongst the trees. It seemed that they had made friends just as easily as Faith and Eloïse had. They didn’t notice that more than an hour had passed until Kate asked for something to drink as they were all thirsty. Faith looked at her timepiece and saw that it was soon time for lunch, so she suggested that they turn back. She asked Eloïse if they wanted to share the meal, but Eloïse refused, saying they were expected at home so they had to leave, but it would be nice to do that another time.
When they came around to the front drive, there was a carriage waiting to take them home. Eloïse explained that she’d asked for it to pick her up at midday. However, in the case that Faith and the children hadn’t been free to spend time with them, she would have walked home across the parkland. While saying this, she indicated the direction, which was to the East.
“If you go that way, you will see that there is a bridle path that leads to our property. I suspect that it has come to be, because of the riders using it as a shortcut between the two homes. It takes about twenty minutes to reach our house, walking from here.”
The children scrambled up into the carriage while the groom helped Eloïse into it. They all waved goodbye with words that they would meet again soon.
Faith, Christopher and Helen entered the house feeling very hungry and thirsty and they certainly did justice to the meal that Millie had prepared for them. Nothing was left as scraps.
Helen curled up on her bed of her own accord after the meal for her nap. She had worn herself out yet again. Christopher lay on his bed but he took one of the books Faith had read to them to look at the pictures before falling asleep himself. Faith sat contented, a warm feeling brought on by the new friendship.
There was one thing that she hadn’t forgotten. Perhaps the fact that Kate had spoken about pets had brought it to mind.
Mr. Wolfe had agreed that they could have a puppy. When she told them, Christopher’s whole face changed. It was the difference of a dull day to a sunny one. She’d asked Millie if she knew of anyone with puppies to give away, but she didn’t. What she did suggest was that Mr. Reed would be able to help. He knew all the estate business, including that of the tenant farmers or local farmers. He had tentacles that stretched very far and wide indeed.
The idea came to Faith that she would ask Mr. Wolfe to use his pony trap. Millie would no doubt be agreeable to preparing a teatime picnic basket, and then she and children would seek out Mr. Reed at the old hunting lodge. If he were elsewhere, it wouldn’t matter. She could leave him a note about a puppy. The outing would be an adventure for the children capped by the picnic.
She could usually find Mr. Wolfe in the library during the day, when he was at home. It was on the off chance that she went there now, having put aside the little incident and hoping that in his drunken stupor, he might have forgotten it or thought he’d imagined it. After a quick tap on the door, she heard a mumble that might have been a ‘come in.’ She composed her face to what she hoped was ‘pleasant’ and went in.
At first, she couldn’t see him, but there was a bit of a scuffling noise behind the desk, so she went to the side of it to find him on his hands and knees trying to grab something that was under the part with the drawers. He looked up and then jumped back, startled to see someone was so near without hearing them arrive. The action caused him to catch his head on the underside of the desk and then get tangled in the legs of the chair. He gave up and lay flat out on the floor holding his head.
“Perhaps I should go upstairs and start my day again? I haven’t liked the beginning so far. It may be that with a new start, it would improve.”
Was he talking to her or to himself? She ventured an answer.
“I suppose it depends upon whether you believe that our lives are already written or not? I personally wouldn’t want to start over if I had to bang my head again.”
He smiled in spite of a throbbing knob on his head.
She leaned over him to see if his head was bleeding. Their eyes met and she drew in her breath, remembering the intimacy of their kisses. He might have remembered, but he did not indicate that he had in any way. He immediately turned his head to show her the bump and the action brought her back to the moment.
“You are going to have a goose egg there for a while. You may have to hide it with a hat,” she joked.
He got up with a smile, saying he wondered what type of hat would look best in a library.
“Perhaps, a Tam o’Shanter. It would certainly make you more approachable than a top hat,” she suggested.
He looked at her intensely for a moment thinking he would be happy to wear a Tam o’Shanter if it encouraged her to approach him. He did remember, however, that he had told her he wouldn’t bother her anymore and now he wished he hadn’t.
“Remind me to ask Whittle to pop off to Scotland to get one for me, then.”
He smiled a little sadly, “Just in case I bumped my head again.
“So, Miss Eversley, to what do I owe this bump on the head? You wanted to see me about something?”
He became serious again.
“I wondered whether I might use the pony trap to take the children for an outing and a picnic, today?”
Wanting to show that he could be generous, Quentin agreed to her request.
“You’ll have a lovely day for it. You’re welcome to its use, just tell Ted I said it’s all right.”
“Thank you.”
She gave a big grin before leaving quickly.
As she disappeared out the door, he gave a soft sigh, wishing that he wasn’t her employer and that he hadn’t told her he would leave her alone. The ache was back.
As soon as she and the children had had lunch, she went to the stables to collect the pony trap. From the side entrance, she loaded the picnic basket and then the two children, with Helen in the middle. At the last minute, she thought to ask for a blanket so they could have their picnic on the ground. One of the grooms produced one that must have been kept expressly for that purpose as she could see traces of dried grass on one side.
With a soft pat on the rump from Ted, the pony was off as docile as one could wish. The children laughed with the jerking of the trap, which in turn made Faith laugh too. The groom had put her on the right road saying that it led directly to the lodge. No need to turn or leave the way.
Christopher held on to the side of the trap and his sister. Faith was moved by the concern he showed Helen. He had become a lot more relaxed, which pleased her. The pony had been happily trotting along for about a quarter of an hour when the road ended abruptly in front of what had to be the old hunting lodge.
It was a low sitting house of rubble-stone construction with a deep tiled roof. The door was central with three multi-paned windows on either side of
it. There were chimneys at each end of the house and little windows peeked out from under the roof on the first floor. On the whole, it gave the impression of being compact and practical and certainly not ostentatious. It stood in a clearing that had been reclaimed many years hence, as Faith could see a paddock to the side of it. There were old, solid looking trees at the back and an incline that had a path leading down through a copse of trees. It looked like a peaceful place to live.
“Well, I think we’re here,” she announced to the children.
The pony had pulled over to the side and had begun munching the grass.
“You get down first Christopher, and then you can help Helen. Be sure to stay to the side in case the pony takes fright and tries to bolt.”
Christopher got down but before there was time for Helen to descend, Mr. Reed had appeared at his door and was then holding the pony’s head. Faith got down with the reins and handed them to Mr. Reed before letting Helen jump into her arms.
“Well this is a surprise.” Mr. Reed smiled. “Would you like to come in?”
“Will the pony be all right?” Faith wondered.
“I’ll slip him out of the shaft and he can graze.”
He released the pony and led him to the paddock at the side of the lodge. He returned to his surprise guests.
“Have you met Christopher Wolfe and his sister Helen?” Faith asked.
“I haven’t had that pleasure, although I have caught glimpses of them.”
Whereupon he went up to Christopher and pretending he was going to kiss the back of his hand said, “So you must be Helen.”
Christopher broke out laughing saying, “Why I believe you need spectacles, Madam.”
Mr. Reed was so surprised by the quick response that he laughed spontaneously, and then they were all laughing. Mr. Reed picked up Helen and twirled her around.
“More, more!” she cried.
“Perhaps before you go home,” he said winking at her. “I don’t want you to feel sick now that you’ve arrived here.”
Faith was astonished to see how easily Mr. Reed had taken to the children.
“Are you used to children?”
Curiosity had got the better of her.
“Goodness, when you come from a family of ten, you have no choice but to be used to them.” he replied with a chortle.
“When I was little, we slept four in a bed, head to tail. I survived, and I hope I’m a better man for it.”
He shrugged good-naturedly.
“Now I can sleep through a thunder storm and not wake.”
Faith imagined how full and fun his life must have been when hers had been rather bleak.
“We weren’t sure you would be here, so I was prepared to leave you a note. Mr. Wolfe has agreed that the children may have a puppy, and Millie felt sure that if anyone knew where to find one, it would be you. Do you know where there are ones to be had, by any chance?”
“Wellll…” he began, “strange that you should ask, but YES. I sometimes deal with a local man whose bitch had a litter over a month ago. There were nine and they all survived. They’ll probably be ready to go soon, I should think. He still has to find homes for a few of them, so there’ll be a choice.”
Christopher had been listening attentively.
“When can we go, sir?” he asked anxiously, perhaps afraid that they’d all be gone before he got there.
“Are you free to go tomorrow?” he proposed, looking at Faith.
“We are our own masters and will be pleased to go whenever it is convenient for you, Mr. Reed.”
“Tomorrow it is, then, Master Christopher. Don’t let me down.”
“No Sir,” he beamed.
It was a lovely afternoon. Mr. Reed took them to the other side of the lodge and down the path that led to a pond. There were weird black birds swimming on it making peeping sounds. Some had white on their heads and others had red. The children were fascinated and threw bread crumbs at them. Christopher wondered if the colour meant they were girls or boys. Mr. Reed explained that the ones with white were called ‘coots’ and the ones with red were called ‘moorhens’. They were cousins, nothing to do with being male or female.
They had their picnic there with Mr. Reed, who said he was pleased to join them as he must have been twelve the last time he’d had one. Helen dozed off on the blanket. She was such a bundle of energy that sometimes she exhausted herself. They packed everything away before waking her.
“This has been one of the nicest afternoons that I’ve spent in a long time,” Faith sighed.
“There is no end of afternoons left to spend. We shall have to do it again so that we don’t waste too many of them,” he suggested with a grin.
“When do you think we should be ready for you tomorrow? I’d better have a little idea or the children are going to be sitting out waiting for you all day. You, of all people, must know how children are.”
“Let us say early tomorrow morning so we’ll be able to catch Mr. Clark before he works. He lives quite close to you. Do you think that seven o’clock is too early? I’m afraid it is that or in the evening when he returns.”
Christopher piped up saying, “Morning, sir, please.”
“So be it. I shall see you tomorrow morning.”
He took Faith’s hand and kissed the back before helping her to climb into the pony trap. He handed Helen to her while Christopher climbed up alone. Mr. Reed backed the pony into the shaft, gave the reins to Faith and attached the harness once again. They were quickly turned and on their way.
“I am so excited,” Christopher whispered. Maybe he didn’t realise he’d said it aloud. It made Faith feel happy, bone deep.
-o0o-
Faith opened her eyes to see an anxious little boy looking down at her. He was already dressed.
“I’m sorry to wake you, Miss Eversley, but it is morning, and I don’t think it’s polite to keep Mr. Reed waiting.”
She pulled him to her suddenly to hug him.
She then sat, plumped a kiss on the top of his head before letting him go. He smiled at her.
“Run along then, encourage your sister, and I’ll be there in a minute or two.”
She washed with the cool water that remained in the jug. She had always been very particular about her hygiene. She hadn’t been poor when her father had been alive, so had been careful to always have a bar of scented soap with her. There was no question of buying perfume, as that would have been too extravagant, but the rose scented soap was just as good, she thought. By the time she got to the children’s room, she could hear Christopher urging Helen to stand still so he could attach her dress.
“You do want a puppy, don’t you?” he was saying. “We have to be ready for Mr. Reed when he comes.”
Helen was holding her arms out to the side and dropping them, repeating the action over and over. She didn’t know how to stand still and Faith smiled to see the earnest look on Christopher’s face as he struggled with the buttons on the back of her dress. Faith felt her eyes prick but blinked rapidly. She wanted these children to be hers with a hunger she hadn’t known existed. The would-be-tears were for the sadness of knowing it could never be.
It was another lovely day. Because of the early hour, it was still cool and there was dew clinging to the grass. Faith loved this time in the morning more than any other moment in the day, just as she preferred spring to all the other seasons. They went out by the side entrance and came around to the front of the house in time to see Mr. Reed arrive in his own pony trap.
She realised she was pleased to see him.
She handed Helen up to him and then went to the other side to help Christopher climb aboard before getting up herself. Looking at them with a smile, Mr. Reed asked a perfectly redundant question.
“Ready?”
Then to the pony, “walk-on,” and the pony began to move. A “trot-on” had the pony happily trotting towards the gates. Then the adventure began.
She suspected that by the
easy manner which Mr. Clark greeted them that Mr. Reed had probably let him know they were coming. The puppies were seven weeks old and apparently independent. They scampered around and rolled over each other having a great time together. They were all, without exception, black and brown with dashes of white. Their coats were just a little curly and silky to touch.
She could imagine why Christopher was not attaching too much attention to one dog. No doubt he didn’t want to be disappointed if he found one he liked a lot, and then heard it was spoken for. Mr. Clark came straight to the point by saying there were only males left to choose from.
“It’s easy enough. The dogs that have already been spoken for have a bit of string around their necks, and the others are still free.”
In a flash, Christopher picked up a puppy that he’d already noticed in spite of himself.
“This one doesn’t have any string. May we have him, Sir?”
Mr. Clark ran a hand over the dog’s head affectionately.
“Well it looks as though you’ve got him already, lad. Yes, he’s yours as long as you promise to take care of him?”
“I promise, sir,” and he planted a kiss on the wriggling puppy’s head.
“When may we take him home?”
Mr. Clark looked serious before saying with a smile, “It may be a little early but he’s solid. I reckon you can take him now. It will save me searching for a piece of string.”
Christopher couldn’t believe it was true. NOW. He hugged and kissed the puppy.
“Look, Helen, he’s ours.”
She took him in hers arms and then handed him back to Christopher saying, “You hold him, he wiggles.”
They didn’t dawdle but thanked Mr. Clark again and left with Christopher holding the puppy. What better start was there to a day? Faith couldn’t think of one.
The week was a whirlwind for her, the children and the puppy, who was now called Wizard or Wizz. Mr. Wolfe had met him and scratched behind his ears and admitted he was a fine specimen. In an aside, he’d said to Faith that some good could come from blackmail…which made her blush as he’d obviously not forgotten the library incident.
Everyone in the household was spoiling the puppy with cuddles and walks, but he seemed to sense that Christopher was his. He slept on his bed and looked to him before going anywhere. They were made for each other.
Faith took stock of her situation, three weeks to the day after arriving. She could not have imagined having such a happy life. The last few years with her father hadn’t been unhappy. They’d simply been barren.
At night in bed, she squealed to herself with childish delight thinking what a stroke of luck it had been the day Mr. Wolfe had passed in the market. The big, cold, impersonal house didn’t reach the second floor any more. They’d made their own universe which was filled with wild flowers, paintings on the wall, and treasures that were accumulating rapidly on the long table below the windows.
Wizz had a bed in the schoolroom where he knew that he was supposed to stay when the children were practising their numbers or letters. They’d had enormous fun one rainy day doing portraits of each other. The sweetest were those of Wizz who had been curled up asleep at the time. They were now amongst those pictures hanging on the wall.
Mr. Wolfe had come up to their rooms and had commented on how cosy they were. Faith had to admit, he was making an effort.
Quentin was making more of an effort than she realised.
He knew he lacked imagination. He wished it weren’t so, because what he’d always seen as an analytical mind was now a handicap to him. He didn’t know how to be frivolous or spontaneous. He needed control because otherwise he felt a type of vertigo that left him near to panic — out of his depth.
Perhaps that was part of what drew him to Faith. She was natural and spontaneously adapted to any situation, sure of herself. And she was lovely, soft and smelt good. He was going to have a problem keeping his word as he was drawn more and more often to the school room on the second floor.
He had to get away.
Jasper had been badgering him to come to London and now that there was only about a month left to the ‘Season’, Quentin thought it might serve to change his ideas. A few lovely women fluttering their lashes at him would be good for his ego. His lack of amorous activity was certainly not helping with regard to Faith.
After his evening meal, he told Whittle that he intended to leave for London on Sunday for about a month. This automatically meant that Whittle was to prepare his trunk for that period of time and prepare himself, because he would be accompanying him. It would also mean that he would have to organise Ted the driver, the carriage they would be using etc... Whittle was used to the life.
On the Sunday morning, Quentin was shaved, washed, dressed and ready to leave for London by ten o’clock. Now that everything was in motion, he was quite excited about going.
It had been arranged that, as he wanted to ride there on Breugel, Whittle and Ted would follow in the shay with the baggage. They all knew where they were going, so they’d arrive when they could. Quentin left without a backward glance, not wishing to spoil his view of a lively future in London by looking back at what he would be leaving behind.