Enrolling Little Etta (13 page)

Philip rode through the night, letting his coachman drive while he slept in the carriage. It had not been comfortable, and he wondered how Etta had managed to fall asleep beside him that night not so long ago.

As he rubbed his tired eyes, the morning light streamed in, and he looked out of the window as they rode through the moors. He'd given his coachman directions to the destination—though he had not known exactly where Thomas Maddock lived, he'd used the map to locate his whereabouts. He would find Etta, and when he did, hopefully she would be glad to see him. If she was not pleased, it might actually break his heart.

Philip's stomach grumbled and he wished he'd have taken some food with him aside from having had dinner at Jack's home. He had not eaten much, having been too concerned about Etta. Now that was taking its toll, causing him to be tired and even more hungry as nausea set in.

Resting his eyes momentarily, he relaxed until he felt a bump jolt him fully upright and awake. Glancing outside to see what the fuss was about, he noticed there were a few rocks and hills, but nothing that should have caused such a stir. The carriage continued moving without delay. At least there had not been any damage to the undercarriage or wheels from whatever they had hit.

From the corner of his gaze, he caught sight of a glimmer of red, just over the hill. His eyes narrowed as he tried to examine what he was seeing, uncertain what could stand out so much in a sea of winter grass, dormant and dull.

The gray sky, filled with clouds, stretched on as far as Philip could see. The air grew chilly, far more so than the previous night. Would it snow? He hoped that if it did, it would not be more than a light dusting. He intended to be on his way as soon as he saw Etta, and hopefully she'd accompany him back home.

Rubbing his hands together to keep them warm, he shut the curtain for the carriage, keeping the cool air out. It darkened the small confined space but that never bothered him. There was enough light through the sheer fabric to give the impression of daylight still.

"We are almost there!" the coachman shouted to Philip from outside.

The gentleman must have been chilly, but he'd bundled up far warmer with gloves and a scarf. Philip had not found those items necessary when he'd left the chateau but the weather did change constantly without notice.

His stomach felt as though it were on fire. Was it the lack of food, or the fear that was creeping up on him? What if Etta slammed the door in his face? It would not have been the first time he'd disappointed a young woman, although Etta was the first he had loved. He'd intended to marry her, and he had not changed his mind since the day he met her. His feelings had grown stronger, and he prayed she felt the same way.

The coach pulled to a halt and Philip waited for the coachman to open the door, knowing it was safe to step outside.

A few snowflakes drifted from the sky, one landing on his cheek. He brushed the cold dampness aside and stalked up to the front step of the estate.

Thomas Maddock had no doubt done well for himself. His home was quite elegant from the outside, not as large as the chateau, but impressive all the same, with two stories of brick. It wasn't the height so much as the width of the house, it seemed to extend beyond that of a typical property.

Philip knocked with a brisk force, wanting to be quick with introductions and invited inside.

There was no answer.

He grabbed the handle and tried the door, shifting on his feet. His hands were growing red and numb, the cold seeming unbearable the longer he knocked using the metal handle to jar the attention of someone inside.

From behind the wooden door, he heard the heavy pound of footsteps and then a sequence of clicks to the lock.

"May I help you?" a gentleman answered.

"I am looking for Etta Waters."

The man frowned. "You are searching for Mr. Maddock's betrothed. She is upstairs, I believe. Come on inside."

Philip stepped inside the large home, his coachman right behind him in the foyer.

"Can I help you?" A second gentleman in dark trousers and matching vest came down the stairs. "I am Thomas Maddock. If you have something to say to Etta, you will do it through me."

Philip grimaced. He had not even considered that he would not be allowed to speak with her. "What is it you see in Miss Waters?" Philip asked. "It is certainly not that you two have known each other, because if that were the case, surely she would have known about the arrangement of marriage."

"I do not know what you mean," Thomas said, approaching the stranger standing by the door. "What is it to you?"

"I am Philip Hartley," he said. "The headmaster of the Ashby Chateau, the finishing school you withdrew Etta from without my permission."

"I did not realize permission was needed, considering she is to be my wife." Thomas stood toe-to-toe with Philip.

Philip did not so much as blink. "She was brought in by her uncle's admission, Jack Waters. He is the only one allowed to withdraw her from my care. I demand to see her at once, to know that she is in good health and well cared for before leaving."

Thomas balled his hands into fists. "What business is it of yours?"

"It is my business when you snatch a young girl from my school! A decent gentleman would provide me with the paperwork to prove that you are her guardian and that you will be removing her from my institution. What you did constitutes kidnapping."

"That is insane," Thomas said, his eyes narrowing as he spun around, heading for the stairs. "She is up in her room. You can speak with her, but I must be present. I cannot have her consorting with any men without a chaperone. It would not be appropriate."

"Of course," Philip said. He followed Thomas up the stairwell and down the hall.

"Etta." Thomas knocked on the closed bedroom door. "There is someone here to speak with you. Open the door."

When there was no response, Thomas turned the silver handle and pushed the bedroom door open, revealing an empty bed and quiet room.

"Where is she, Mr. Maddock?" Philip asked, his temper rising.

"I am sure she is around somewhere with the girls. Nanny Joan!" Thomas barked for the girls' attendant as he stormed down the stairs to the playroom.

"Yes, Mr. Maddock?" Nanny Joan stepped out from the room with the children, closing the door behind her to protect the little ones.

"Where is Etta? Is she in there with you?" Thomas asked.

"No, sir." Nanny Joan shook her head. "The girls are playing quietly. Have you checked outside? Or perhaps asked the governess? I do remember Etta mentioning that she'd like to pick up a few gowns of her own."

Thomas ignored the nanny's suggestions. He opened every hall closet and door, searching for the young lady who had gone missing. "Etta! I swear, when I find you—"

"You will what?" Philip asked, watching Thomas very closely. He would not let anyone hurt Etta, not so long as he was alive.

"The devil needs to be beaten out of her. Running away, hiding from me. How am I expected to marry a woman who keeps such secrets?" Thomas' cheeks burned. "I will not have any of it!"

"Perhaps you should not marry her," Philip said. It seemed now was as good a time as any to try and remind Thomas that Etta was more than just a girl on a piece of paper. She meant something to him, and if Thomas did not love her, then she deserved better.

"Excuse me?" Thomas spun around on his heels. "What do you know about it?"

"I know that Etta spent time at the chateau and never once attempted to hide or run away. You must have done something awful to make her feel so frightened."

"She is soft. It will take time to break the young girl in." Thomas walked toward the back door. Opening it, he peered outside. "It is freezing. She could not have gone far."

"What was she wearing this morning?" Philip asked. "I assume you saw her this morning?" Could he have seen Etta without even realizing it on his carriage ride to the estate?

"A red dress that had been my late wife's. Dark red, the color of blood."

"It sounds lovely," Philip said and sighed. "I see that she is gone. My suggestion would be to find yourself a new wife. One who has the desire to stick around for longer than a day." Philip headed for the door, his coachman sitting in the foyer. "It is time to go."

The coachman stood and followed Philip outside. He waited until the door was shut before approaching the gentleman with gloves and a scarf. It was amazing how he could remember all the littles' names, but when it came to staff, Philip knew he failed in many regards. "Sir. Take me back on the road we came, but keep following it as far as you can. Do not turn off and head south. The girl we are searching for—I think I saw her running away."

"Yes, sir." The man helped Philip into the coach. "If I may speak freely, sir?"

"Yes, of course."

"There is a train station not too far from here. If I were a young woman and running away, I would try and make it to the train station."

Apparently his coachman had heard far more than he thought.

"Thank you. To the train station it is," Philip said, sitting down. Though it was chilly outside, he raised the curtain, wanting to see if he spotted Etta on the way. It had been hours since he had caught the glimpse of crimson. Certainly by now she would have caught a train, but where would she have headed? He'd have to check the station and schedules when they arrived. Perhaps all hope was not lost. Philip would find her and she would come back with him to the chateau. It was in her best interest; he would not take no for an answer.

"This is my stop," the gentleman sitting across from Etta said.

The train slowed and he stood, grabbing his bag and glancing out of the window, presumably looking for his family.

"Enjoy your time with your family."

"Thank you. Enjoy visiting with your friend," he said, placing the hat back atop his head. He nodded politely at her as he shuffled down the aisle to the doors. The train pulled to a stop and he stepped off, his bag in hand, walking down the platform toward his wife and children who were standing there attentive and excited to see him.

Etta watched from the window as he embraced his wife and two children in his arms. She shifted, glancing away; the moment felt too personal, as though she was intruding. Shutting her eyes, she realized she did not know where the end of the line would take her. Reading the map would have been easy if she knew where she had started and what train she was on. Instead it felt like interpreting a foreign language, something she was incapable of doing.

The train lurched forward and Etta relaxed, something she had not done in quite some time. Though her bottom burned profusely as she sat, standing for such a long time as the train jolted forward and to the side seemed dangerous. Perhaps she'd grown numb in some ways from the blistered bottom she'd received while with Thomas. She would never see him again.

"Is this seat taken?"

Etta's eyes flashed open, recognizing the familiar voice and smell as he did not wait for her to answer. He took a seat opposite her, staring deep into her eyes. "Philip?" she asked, surprised to see him on the train. Had she been dreaming? A lot had happened lately, perhaps she'd grown delirious in her current state.

"Yes, little Etta."

She smiled, surprised he did not mention punishing her for not calling him 'Papa'. As strong as Philip was, he was not mean or abusive. He had been kind to her, far kinder than any other man she'd met. "How did you find me?" she asked.

"Not easily," he said. He relaxed as he sat across from her. "I paid a visit to your Uncle Jack last night. He informed me of your betrothal to Thomas Maddock."

Etta made a face of disgust. She sneered at the gentleman's name. "I am not marrying him."

Philip sighed. Was he relieved or disappointed to hear the news? "Why did you leave Ashby with him?" he asked.

"I did not have a choice. Nanny Beth released me into his care. I did not want to go. I even told her so!" A small part of her wanted nothing to do with Nanny Beth, but that had been before she knew what Thomas was really like.

"And now what do you want?"

"I want to go back to Ashby, Philip. I want to be your little one. Can I have that?" She knew it may be too late. She'd run off, and though it had not been entirely her doing, she perhaps had lost his trust as well. Besides, she'd got Nanny Mae fired, was he not angry with her about that, too?

He leaned forward, his hand finding hers. "What do you call me?"

"Papa," she answered, keeping her voice down, though the train car was not entirely full. No one could hear what they said.

"That is my good little Etta." Philip nodded. "Come and sit with me," he said, patting his lap.

She glanced around the carriage. Would anyone think it highly inappropriate for a grown woman to be sitting on his lap?

"Etta." His voice grew stern and she stood, shaking slightly as she lowered herself down onto his lap. His arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her close, cuddling her. She heard him breathe deeply. Was he relieved to have found her?

"What will happen with regards to Thomas?" Etta asked. "I am promised to him, but I do not wish to marry him." Could Philip help her out of the betrothal? "He's a horrible man, Papa. He blistered my bottom for no reason at all this morning."

Philip nodded slowly. Whether he believed her or not, he did not say. "You do not have to concern yourself with Thomas any longer."

"What about the documents he had?" she asked. "He had papers drawn up that said I was to be his wife. My father signed them."

"It is easy to forge a signature, little one. We do not know for a fact that he was not conning you out of your estate money and dowry."

Etta paused, considering Papa's words. It was possible, though Thomas had money and it did not seem as if he needed more; perhaps it had come from the other guests who had stayed for a short time, as well. Unfortunately she would no longer be able to ask Nanny Joan any more questions. She would have to trust that Thomas would leave her be and move on. Were there any guarantees that he would not come back for her?

Philip ran his fingers through her long blonde hair, pushing the strands out of her eyes. "What is wrong, my little love?"

"What if he does return and insists I marry him?" It seemed her Uncle Jack did not care whom she wed, and so long as he was still in charge of her dowry, Thomas could claim her as his wife.

"It will be too late," Philip said. "Which is why I want us to wed."

Etta's eyes lit up. "You want to marry me? Even after the trouble I caused to Nanny Mae?"

His hand smoothed over her back. "Nanny Mae is the cause of her own trouble. You are not responsible for her actions."

She certainly felt responsible. "What happens after we get married?" Etta asked. "Will I still be a little at the chateau?"

"You will always be my little Etta," he said, kissing her cheek. "You will stay at Ashby a little longer, until you have learned to fully submit, at which point you will come home with me."

Her heart skipped a beat, excitement bubbling inside her. "You do not live at the chateau?" she asked. It made sense that he lived elsewhere, but he always seemed to be around, unlike the other papas.

"No, darling." He kissed her temple. "You are the only reason I stayed well beyond my typical hours. I look forward to putting you to bed. We missed that bedtime story."

Etta smiled. "Yes, we did." She did not mind being little—not when it involved Philip, who gave her the opportunity to be child-like and carefree.

With one hand wrapped snugly around her waist, he nuzzled her neck. "Tell me something, and please be honest with me."

"Of course." She had no reason to lie to him.

"How did you feel with Thomas?"

"I hated him!" How could Papa ask her such a question? Thomas had blistered her bottom and punished her at every opportunity and then some.

"I meant living there, with children who needed tending to."

"Are you asking me what I thought of being a mother? I spent five minutes with the girls. Mary hated me. It definitely did not make me anxious to have children."

"But do you want them?" Philip asked.

Etta frowned, not understanding the question. "I do not know." Was it terrible that she was not thrilled at the idea of having children? She did not want to push Philip away. "Why are you asking me this, Papa?" She used the name he preferred to be called, trying to understand where his mind was heading. What was he thinking?

"I need to know if you will be upset if we never have children."

"Oh." She let out a soft breath. "Can I be honest?"

"That is all I have ever wanted from you," Papa said. He held her close, his breath mingling with hers.

"I spent years caring for my sick father. I am not sure I have it in me to raise a child. It is probably selfish, and I am sure one day it will happen, but the thought is terrifying and repulsive to me at the moment."

A smile grew across his lips. "Repulsive?"

"You wanted honesty." Was he regretting asking her?

Papa laughed and nodded. "Yes, I did say you should be honest. I wanted to know how you felt, Etta, because I cannot have children. I am sterile."

"You had the mumps as a child?" Etta guessed. She'd heard of such instances of men being unable to father children due to the disease.

"I was fifteen at the time."

"Oh." She pulled back slightly to look into his eyes. "Is that why you have Ashby?"

"I have Ashby so that I could meet you."

Though his words were sweet, she knew that was not the case. "I heard you were married, a long time ago?"

Papa shifted slightly, unable to move too much since she was sitting on his lap. The train swayed and he glanced briefly out of the window. "My late wife passed away in childbirth," he said quietly.

"But I thought you just said—"

"She was not pregnant with my child," Papa said. "She was two months pregnant when we met. Claire fell in love with a nobleman. He refused to leave his wife and did not care that he'd ruined her reputation. I met her at the tavern and stepped in, offered to marry her, and help raise the child as my own."

"Why would you do that?" Etta asked. She did not understand why he'd wed a complete stranger.

"I had had a little too much to drink," he said, joking with her. "She was a nice girl, her family had disowned her. In the couple of hours I spent talking to Claire, I felt something for her. I knew I could not ever have a child and the notion of helping her raise her son or daughter brought me joy."

"What happened to the child?"

"Claire had a baby boy, but he died with her while she was in labor. It was a sad day."

Etta's hand gently stroked his cheek. She had not meant to upset him by talking about it. "I am so sorry for your loss." She meant every word she spoke. She may have been glad that he was not married and could be with her, but she never would have wanted him to go through such a horrific ordeal. No one deserved to lose the people they loved, especially two of them on the same day.

"Thank you," he said, moving her hand from his cheek to his lips. He kissed her palm. "It is what made me desire to create Ashby. I wanted a home both for young women who needed to learn how to behave properly, and also a secret lair of my own."

The smile spread across Etta's face. "Is that what you are calling the littles' school?"

"What would you prefer I call it?" he asked.

She shrugged. She did not have an answer. The idea still felt fresh and new to her, but she looked forward to returning, even if it would not be for a while.

The train pulled to a halt. He patted her back. "Stand up. This is our stop."

"It is?" She glanced out of the window as she stood.

Papa headed down the aisle for the door. "Etta," he said, calling for her to join him.

She dashed down the aisle, catching up as the train stopped and the doors opened. He stepped out into the cold and she followed. The brisk air swirled around her. She wrapped her arms around herself, chilled in her short sleeves. The long dress did not do her any favors either, with the thin silk material blowing in the wind.

"Come now," Philip said, grabbing Etta's hand. He led her from the platform and across the light dusting of snow toward a carriage. "Thank you for meeting us."

The coachman nodded and opened the door, offering his hand to Etta.

She climbed in and Papa removed his jacket, wrapping it around her shoulders to keep her warm.