Поэзия – мелодия души. Михаил Бомбусов
was hardly appropriate to think of Becky as anything but his help in his time of need. In fact, he would leave her alone now, for if he continued to show her about the house, he might continue to dwell upon her loveliness, and that simply would not do.
“Well, I shall leave you to explore for a few moments. The bellpull is here—” he waved at a cord by the door “—and in the mornings, you can ring for your breakfast to be brought to your room. You can poke about in Juliet’s room, too. If there’s anything you require, make a list. I shall try to see to it before I go to London.”
“When are you leaving for town?” Becky turned to him, her firmly compressed lips registering frank disapproval.
“In the next day or so.” Surely she wasn’t going to start that nonsense about meeting the boat again.
“Paul, I really do feel most strongly that you should stay. Juliet will be so confused and so frightened. You must let her know that she is welcome in your home and that you will take care of her.” Becky removed her bonnet and her gloves, casting them onto her dressing table. “How far is the ship docking from Kellridge?”
“The ship should be arriving in Cleethorpes, a mere half day from here. Not that it matters.” He was torn. Should he try to tease her out of this ridiculous notion? Or should he simply play his role as lord of the manor? “I need to be in London, and so I shall go. You’ll be on hand to welcome her. That should be enough.”
“But Paul—you must want to see her. She’s your niece, after all. As her uncle, surely you owe her something more. She is your responsibility.”
Her words broke a dam within his soul. He could not let those feelings out. Feeling anything—rage, grief, pain—was a terrifying experience. He felt that dam burst once six years ago when Ruth had died. She was going to be his helpmeet. She was someone on whom he could depend. When she died, a black hole of despair had swallowed him, and he had cried. No more. Never again.
“While you are in my house and while you are in my employ, I must make a few things quite clear to you, Miss Siddons. Though I am a friend of your family, I am still in control. My word here at Kellridge is final.” He cleared his throat. “I have great respect for my responsibilities, and I take care of them as a man should. I am doing what I can to make Juliet’s life comfortable and pleasant. I don’t need any reminders from you about what I should and should not do. Do I make myself quite clear?”
She took a step back, her delicate features hardening. “Perfectly clear, Mr. Holmes.” She bobbed a brief curtsy. “As your newly employed governess, I feel it my responsibility to do what is best for Juliet’s care. As such, with all the dreadful traveling the child has endured, only to arrive in a foreign land where she may not even know the language, I simply cannot allow her to arrive unwelcomed. Someone must be there to embrace her and assure her everything will be fine. Therefore,” Becky folded her hands before her and gave him a frank stare, “I will require a carriage to take me to Cleethorpes on the appointed day of Juliet’s arrival.” Becky folded her hands before her and gave him a frank stare.
His sardonic humor began to creep back, triggered by her calmly defiant manner. “Is that an order, Miss Siddons?”
“It is a reasonable request, Mr. Holmes.” Her voice had lost all its sweet charm, and her lovely eyes burned—with anger or with disappointment? No matter. He had his plan all laid out, no matter what she said.
“When word arrives, I shall make sure that Wadsworth knows you are to have a carriage at your disposal, and a servant to ride along.” Her gaze was making him distinctly uneasy. Somehow, it was as though she had the upper hand. The only way to win back control was to return to his sarcastically amused self. “So. Now that’s been decided. Join me for tea in a few moments in the library.”
“I must refuse your invitation, Mr. Holmes. I shall retire to my room and ring for tea when I am ready for it.” She gave another brief curtsy that signaled—more clearly than speech—that he was being summarily dismissed.
Should he press on? Make her come down to tea? After all, he had wanted to speak with her about Juliet’s upbringing. She was in his employ. He glanced at the set of her jaw and the fire in her eyes. No. Better to leave while he still had some modicum of authority.
He’d give her time to cool off, and then they would speak sensibly. Becky Siddons was supposed to solve his problems and make life easier for him. But already she was causing more trouble than he’d ever dreamed.
The dress was hers, all right. Becky gave herself a brisk mental shake to clear her mind and held her arms up in the air as the servant—Kate, her name was Kate—draped the fabric over her shoulders and tied the tapes in place. But it was the only familiar thing in this room. Kellridge was not her home yet, not after just one night here.
How very odd that someone besides her sister was helping her dress. In the mornings, Nan would come to her aid and then she would help Nan turn about. She’d shiver from the early morning drafts blowing in from the opened window, and Nan would be scolding her for lollygagging. Then they’d rush downstairs to eat a hurried breakfast before opening the shop.
But in her new room at Kellridge, a fire crackled in the grate, warding off the morning chill. Kate, with deft fingers, worked quickly to help her dress without badgering her one bit. Soon she would be enjoying a delicious breakfast, brought up to her on a tray, no less.
She should be happy. What luxury this new position was bringing to her workaday life. What refinement.
And no nagging, scolding sisters.
Sudden tears stung her eyes and she bit back a sob. If only she could go home to Nan. Prosaic and practical as she was, at least she was familiar. There was quite a difference between dreaming up a new life for oneself and living it out. Paul had been so horrid, so high-handed and lord-of-the-manor-ish. Of course she’d only seen his carefree and joking side when he came to Goodwin. Now that she knew how stern he could be, she couldn’t escape it by simply ducking out of the room when he came to call. She was not only living in his home, she was his employee. If she was going to succeed in this new life, she had to become comfortable with the unfamiliar and learn to bear Paul’s domineering ways.
Kate fluffed out the skirt of her gown and took a step backward.
“You look very nice, miss. You wear white quite well. It’s such a good contrast to your dark hair and eyes.” Kate clasped her hands behind her back and beamed. “Did you do that embroidery yourself?”
“Yes.” Becky smiled. It was always so nice to have others appreciate her efforts with the needle. “Thank you for noticing.”
“Well, I did hear that you and your sisters have a millinery shop, so I figured you must design your own clothes.” Kate tilted her head to one side and surveyed the hem of Becky’s skirt with a critical eye. “My ma was a nimble hand at drawn thread work, and she taught me to appreciate it. Never could do it well myself, though.”
“Was your mother in service here at Kellridge?” Perhaps by reaching out to Kate, she could begin to navigate this new world she’d cast herself into.
“Yes, she worked for Mr. Holmes—not my master, but his father. And of course, Mrs. Holmes, who died three years after Miss Juliana was born. I grew up with Miss Juliana and worked as her maid, so my family has been part of Kellridge for many years. In fact, my sister works in his home in London.” Kate flicked a bit of dust off Becky’s sleeve and gave a brisk smile. “Shall I bring your breakfast up?”
“Certainly. Thank you for your help.” Becky watched as Kate quit the room, closing the door gently behind her. The frost had melted just a little when Kate spoke kindly and familiarly to her and all at once, this journey didn’t seem so insurmountable. In fact, she was charged with a renewed vigor to see this new adventure through to the end. A little kindness and compassion worked wonders in life.
Becky