Mr. Canfield, crouching down to peer into the darkness, said, “Funny lot, you Everards. I wager some high old times were had in this place.”
“You lead the way,” Thorpe said, handing a candle to Frank. The boy hastened through the hole, the two men entering close on his heels.
Anxious moments passed. Then a footman, straining his eyes, said, “I think I see a light!”
Thorpe and Frank emerged first, then stood aside. Half supporting Paulina, Mr. Canfield came through. “There, now, my lass,” he said, straightening up. “You’re safe enough now.”
“Oh, Jacob! Those dreadful children!” Paulina looked fiercely at Gina and Frank. ‘Those two came last night... or was it a hundred years ago! They said they could lead me out if I went this way. They took me in there and left me!” Her voice was hoarse, but the terrors of the night had not strained it much, judging by her loquacity. “I turned around and they were gone. I could have starved!”
“No, you wouldn’t,” Addy said, stepping in front of her friends as though to shelter them from blame. “I brought you breakfast.”
“Breakfast! Hah! Two rolls, which were stale I might add, and a very strange cup of water.”
“I made it out of birch bark like Mr. Price showed me,” Addy said, stung. “It hardly leaked at all!”
“I want them punished!” Paulina shrieked and performed an elegant faint into Mr. Canfield’s waiting arms.
Thorpe asked Frank, “How did you find this entrance?”
“That there grotto nigh the lake, sir. Me an’ Gina were poking ‘bout there last Friday an’ found a hole. We follered it to here.”
“And you weren’t afraid?” Mr. Canfield asked him. The boy looked blank. “See here, what’s your name?”
“Frank Price, mister.”
“And that’s your father?”
Mr. Price stepped forward. “Aye, sir. An’ I’ll give the lad a good walloping.”
“Not a bit of it, not a bit of it. A likely lad like that! Look here, when you’re a bit older, you apply to me. I can always find a position for a fellow who’s not afraid to follow his nose. Would you like to see India someday, boy?”
“Father,” Lillian said, “Paulina may not like it if you take Frank under your wing.”
“Indeed I don’t!” Paulina said, awakening opportunely.
Mr. Canfield bent and swept his arm beneath Paulina’s knees. Disregarding the clay on her cloak, he lifted her into his arms with a strength that spoke of the labor of his early life. “You’ll like what I tell you to like from now on. Fr’instance, I’m taking that boy of yours out of school. Seven’s too young for a lad to be from his mother. Besides, no offense to Lillian, but I always hankered to have a son of my own.”
“None taken, Father.”
Paulina shifted in his hold and perhaps grumbled. Then she said, “Well, at least, Lillian is grown up. I shan’t have to deal with any children but my own.”
“I knew you’d come ‘round,” Mr. Canfield said. “Now, you’re hungry, I fancy. You, butler me lad, can I have some food for my lady wife.”
Paulina blushed most unbecomingly, and genuinely.
“Lady wife to be, that is.”
They marched back to the house, Thorpe and Lillian hand in hand following the others. The three children, apparently aware by instinct that no punishment would come out of this, skipped along, shouting for hot buns.
“Are you hungry?” Thorpe whispered.
“No,
not very.”
“Then come with me.” He drew her away into a bower of greenery at the far end of the garden, all bright and fresh with flowers and birds that darted among the branches singing. Lillian thought she’d never seen a place more suitable for dalliance, but she was not jealous. She felt somehow that Thorpe had never brought a woman here, and anyway, jealousy was useless if love was really true.
Thorpe stood a little ways away, frowning. “Lillian, we have to talk. In the confusion, I forgot to ask you something.”
“What is it?” She was almost worried until she saw that he was striving not to smile.
In a deep voice, he said, “If Mr. Canfield’s your father, you must be dreadfully rich.”
“Yes, I suppose I am. I have four thousand a year in my own right.” Lillian knew a husband had the privilege of knowing such things about his wife.
“Oh, that’s too bad.”
“Why?” she asked, a suspicious glint in her eye. He looked far too innocent to be serious.
“You’ll never marry me now. Only women who want my money ever want to marry me.”
‘Then they are very foolish. Surely, it will take all
my
fortune to hire a governess sufficiently stern enough to manage both Addy and Lady Genevieve.”
“You’re quite correct. To find such a paragon will surely bankrupt us both. Of course, as long as we must have a vastly expensive governess, perhaps a few more children would make her services more economical. In the long run, I mean.”
“Oh, we must consider economy. But not, I think, just now.” She gave in to an impulse and held out her arms. Copying his soon to be father-in-law, Thorpe swept Lillian up into his arms. Carrying her to a rustic bench, he sat down and proceeded to teach his governess lessons in love.
Copyright © 1993 by Cynthia Bailey-Pratt
Originally published by Jove (ISBN 051511135X)
Electronically published in 2010 by Belgrave House/Regency Reads
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This is a work of fiction. All names in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to any person living or dead is coincidental.