A Mother For His Family. Susanne Dietze
Louisa, held in the nursemaid Agnes’s arms, sucked her thumb and gripped a well-loved doll. Beside them, Margaret stared at the clear heavens, a bored expression on her fair, cosmetic-free face.
“Right,” Helena said, clutching the ball as if it held her sanity within it. “Who wishes first crack?” She lifted the ball in a gesture of offering.
The children stared at her. Dear God, help.
She took a deep breath before trying again. “Please set up the pins, Margaret. That patch there looks flat enough.” The girl slumped off to obey. “Louisa, would you like to go first?”
“Yes!” Louisa’s thumb flew from her mouth with a wet pop and she squirmed in Agnes’s arms. An exasperated look fluttered over Agnes’s thin face as she set the child down and took her by the wrist.
“Are ye sure o’ this, milady? She cannae play.” Agnes shoved a loose tendril of lank brown hair under her white cap.
“Has she never learned? ’Tis not a difficult game.”
“O’ course nae, milady. Because she cannae see.” Agnes exchanged a glance with Margaret.
How dare she address you in such a manner. Mama’s sharp tone resounded in Helena’s head. You must assert your place, or you shall never be respected. Sending the chit off without a reference would send a strong message to the staff—
Enough of Mama. The children had experienced too much change of late. They did not need to suffer the loss of a nursemaid now, too, but that didn’t mean Helena should cower to the staff. After all, she was the lady here now. “I do not see why Louisa cannot try. Come, Louisa.”
A grin split Louisa’s rosy face, revealing perfect, tiny teeth. Helena took her moist hand and led her to a spot six feet from where Margaret set the pins in three rows of three. Once finished, Margaret stepped back, concern furrowing her brow. “I’m not certain this will work, ma’am.”
Margaret’s love for her cousin was clear. Their love for one another is a good place to start. Helena hoped her smile for Margaret was tender and comforting, especially after having to chide her yesterday. “If she does not enjoy it, we shall cease.”
Margaret chewed her lip. “Aye, ma’am.”
Helena had better think of something for the children to call her other than ma’am and my lady and the occasional Lady Ardoch. The terms were appropriate, but they didn’t seem at all warm. But Mother wasn’t acceptable, either. Not after yesterday’s scene.
She bent behind Louisa and reached for the doll. It was sticky to her touch. “Let’s set Dolly down.”
“Tabitha.”
“Tabitha, yes. She will sit here on the grass.” Helena propped the grimy, wood-headed doll on her cloth haunches. “Now, hold out your hands, as if you’re to receive water from a pitcher.”
Louisa thrust out her hands and giggled.
Helena set the ball in them, cradling Louisa’s hands from below until the child adjusted to the ball’s weight. Louisa’s thumbs and index fingers rubbed over the ball, and she bent her head down to it. Was she able to see its outline, out here in the bright sunshine?
“The pins are on the grass a short distance from us. Roll the ball, like this.” Guiding Louisa’s arms, Helena swung them down to the child’s knees and back again. “Now let it go.”
The ball thudded, landing a foot away.
“You did it,” Helena praised. Louisa hopped in place, knocking Helena’s chin with the top of her head. Pain sluiced through her jaw and brought tears to her eyes.
“Did it go?” Louisa asked.
“No.” Margaret’s glare caused a different sort of pain to Helena than the bump to her jaw. “She does not even know where to aim.”
The twins paused in their game, staring at Helena as if she had forced Louisa to walk through thistles barefoot.
Her physical pain receding, Helena retrieved the ball. “An excellent first attempt. This time let the ball roll from your fingers.”
Louisa released it and it trundled far enough to tap a pin. Louisa’s head turned to the side, reminding Helena of a robin scouting for worms. “It hit!”
Warmth coursed through Helena’s chest. “Indeed, it did.”
“Well done.” Margaret’s frown twitched upward.
The twins dropped their rackets. “Good show, Louisa.”
“Now,” Helena said, “it’s Margaret’s turn with the ball.”
Margaret scowled, took up the ball and knocked down eight of the pins. Louisa jumped up and down. “My turn again.”
Margaret reset the pins. Louisa’s roll missed, but Margaret brought the ball back before jogging to stand beside the pins. “Roll it toward my voice, Louisa.”
Again, Louisa cocked her head. As Margaret called to her, she rolled the ball, this time knocking over two pins.
Alexander and Callum abandoned their game to join in, and soon the foursome were cheering and teasing. Helena stepped back to stand beside the nursemaid.
“She seldom knocks the pins doon, ma’am.” Agnes shook her head.
Mama would send the impertinent Agnes packing before noon, for certain.
Perhaps kindness, shown with firm confidence, would make more difference than dismissing a servant on her first day as the lady of the house. “Louisa enjoys herself. And watch her. When the ball strikes a pin, she aims for the same place the next time. She may never be a champion at nine pins, but then again, neither am I. Yet I still find enjoyment in the exercise.”
A huff escaped Agnes’s pinched lips, but Helena didn’t care. The scene was too pleasant to be ruined by Agnes’s insolence. A blue sky banished yesterday’s clouds, and the sun’s glow lit up the rocky tor to the east and warmed her back. The children’s cheeks pinked from exertion, and they all clapped for Louisa when she struck a pin.
Something prickled Helena’s neck, drawing her gaze. A wheat-colored terrier pranced over the yard, followed by her new husband. He strode across the grass toward them, dressed for riding.
What a dashing figure. Not that she should be thinking such things.
The dog ran to the children, its stub tail wiggling with enthusiasm. “Iona!” The game was forgotten as the children patted the dog.
So they had a pet. She should have guessed.
Louisa hopped in place, a whine escaping her throat, until Agnes hauled her into her arms and carried her to John’s side, stopping first to retrieve the dolly, Tabitha.
She’d have to remind Louisa that ladies requested attention with words, not whimpers.
John smiled and placed a hand on each child’s head as he greeted them.
“I threw the ball,” Louisa announced.
“Did you, now?”
He must have seen it, of course. How kind of him to let Louisa tell of it.
The children spoke over each other, relating the events of their game, and Helena hung back, her hands folded at her waist. These children loved their father. God, if You forgive me, could some of that childlike, family affection extend to me someday, as well?
Life was quite long indeed to go through it unloved.
Margaret rose on her tiptoes. “Will you watch us?”
John chucked her under the apple-green bonnet bow, tied at her chin. “Alas, I cannot. It seems we’ve lost more cattle to theft.”
“Who would steal our cows?” Callum’s brow scrunched.
“Hungry