Hester descended the stairs and entered the drawing room, where she found the whole family assembled. Even Grandfather Stevens—an independent old man who had a separate cottage at the bottom of the garden—had condescended to join them to hear the news about the stranger who was wearing his nightshirt.
They were a handsome lot, thought Hester lovingly. The children were all dark-haired and dark-eyed, Alice with a voluptuousness that belied her age, Jamie tall and thin, Geoffrey strong and sturdy, the little ones healthy and happy. Old Mr. Stevens was a veritable patriarch, with snow white hair and a flowing beard to match. His eyes twinkled beneath bushy eyebrows.
“Well, granddaughter, and how be your unexpected guest?” he asked.
That was the first of a flood of questions that came so fast she was quite unable to answer them all.
“Hush, my dears,” she cried, laughing. “Here is Ivy to say dinner has been spoiling this half hour and more. I will tell you all I know while we eat.”
She knew little enough, in fact, and was forced to leave their curiosity unsatisfied.
“I daresay Mr. Fairfax will feel more the thing tomorrow,” pointed out Jamie, “and he is bound to reveal more of himself. Stop bothering Hester now, Susan, or you’ll not have time for some apple pie.”
“Ivy made it; it won’t be as good as Hester’s,” pouted Susan.
“Thank you for the compliment, love, but I hope you will not say such a thing in Ivy’s hearing,” reproved Hester gently. “She is not hired as a cook, and it is very good of her to help out.”
“I’ll not deny that Mistress Ivy roasts a fine leg o’ mutton after me own heart,” said Mr. Stevens, helping himself to a third slice. “None of they fancy French sauces as Hester dresses up good plain English food with.”
“Now, Grandpapa, you must confess that you adore Hester’s tarragon chicken.” Alice had quite recovered her spirits now that the emergency was over. She looked at Mr. Stevens teasingly.
“Don’t you Grandpa me, Miss Impidence,” he growled. “I bain’t no grandpa o’ yourn. Nor want to be.” He beamed at her. Well into his seventies, he still had an eye for a pretty girl, and, dearly though he loved Hester, he had to admit that Alice outshone her in looks.
“You said you’d be our grandpa, too!” accused Robbie. “It’s not fair if only Hester has a grandpa.”
“He’s only teasing,” explained Susan scornfully. “Aren’t you, Grandfather? ‘Sides, you know Hester’s mama died when she was born, Rob, so she never had a proper mama and that’s not fair either.”
“Hush, children. I shared your mama, and you share my Grandpapa, so all is perfectly fair.” Hester quickly changed the subject. “Jamie, in the morning you had best remove your books from your bedroom. You may use my desk for your studying as long as Mr. Fairfax is with us.”
“Thank you. I’ll not disturb your accounts.” He hesitated. “I suppose you could not tell from his conversation whether Mr. Fairfax is a university man? I do not wish to. sound conceited, but I rather think I know as much Greek as the vicar, and I should welcome assistance from someone who has studied somewhat more recently.”
Since the Reverend Smythe had not seen the inside of a college in fifty years, not opened a Greek volume in near as long until he offered to coach Jamie, Hester considered this a reasonable request.
“You must ask him,” she proposed. “Be tactful, though. You will not wish him to feel mortified should he be unable to help. Even if he was at Oxford or Cambridge, I daresay it is nine or ten years since. I am sure he must be thirty. Geoff, are you able to manage the horses, or shall you see if they will put them up at one of the inns?”
“Jarvis would take ‘em at the Catherine Wheel, but we have room enough for them,” replied Geoffrey, “and I can take care of them. I’ll have to buy fodder, though, unless Jarvis will give me a bale or two. Of course, I shall get the manure for the garden, so—”
“Geoffrey! Must you discuss such things at the dinner table, you horrid creature?” objected Alice in disgust. “Really, you grow more like a farmer every day, I do declare.”
“And why not?” queried her brother indignantly. “I should like nothing better than to be a farmer. And I notice you do not despise the fruits of my labours, all grown in good aged cow manure.”
Alice dropped the peach she had been about to bite into.
“Hester!” she wailed. “Stop him, or I shall never be able to touch another morsel!”
“And a good thing, too,” said Geoff maliciously. “You are growing positively fat, Allie.”
“You are both at fault,” reproved Hester. “Geoff, it is not at all the thing to speak of such matters at table. Indeed, you almost put me off my food. There is no harm in being a farmer, but there is no reason you should not be a gentleman, too. And Alice, you are by far too old to indulge in squabbles like this. If your aunt invites you to London, she will think I have made a sad failure of teaching you to behave as a lady ought.”
“Oh, Hester, I am very sorry. It is not your teaching that is at fault. I daresay my aunt will not invite me anyway. I do not think she remembers our existence.”
“We do very well without her,” growled Jamie. “She did not offer to help when Papa died, not even when we had to sell Hilltop Manor.”
“Lady Bardry is not particularly well-to-do, and I don’t expect any help in that direction, James. However, if I pay all expenses, I can see no reason why she should not introduce Alice to the Fashionable World and give her a proper season. She moves in the highest circles, as Papa did, you know. I was not going to tell you, lest nothing should come of it, but I have written to her suggesting just such an arrangement.”
“The expense must come out of the estate, Hester,” protested Jamie hotly. “It is outside of enough that your fortune provides the greater part of our living. I cannot let you pay for Alice’s come-out.”
Grandfather Stevens took an unexpected hand in the discussion. “When I settled twenty thousand pounds on Hester at her birth,” he declared pedantically, “I niver thought her papa would get through my Muriel's dowry so fast, nor that Hester’d be taking on the bringing up o’ you lot. But being as how she’s done it, I taught her how to reckon, and she’ve got it all figured out jist fine, and all ye’ve to do is what she says.”
So fiercely did the old man pronounce this last that all James could do was stammer meekly, “Yes, sir, of course we will.”
Once again, Hester thought it prudent to change the subject, though she could see that all the children were bursting with questions.
“Grandfather,” she said pacifically, “I believe Alice finished your new shirt today. I shall iron it in the morning, and you’ll have it by noon.”
“May I press it, please?” begged Susan. “I have been practising on Robbie’s shirts, and indeed I think I can do it well enough even for Grandpapa.”
“To be sure, you may. It will be a great help to me if you can do a good job. No one could ask for a more helpful family,” said Hester, looking round the table with a contented sigh. “Susan and Rob, if you please, clear the dishes for Ivy. I must go up and see how Mr. Fairfax does. I will join you all later.”
“I’d like a word wi’ ye, child, afore ye goes up,” requested Mr. Stevens.
“Come into the study, Grandpapa.” Hester led the way into the tiny back room where she kept her papers. “I must thank you for saving me from an argument with Jamie. The dear boy feels it sadly that he cannot provide for his brothers and sisters. I wish you would allow me to tell him how much help you give us. I am sure he suspects that we could not manage on my fortune alone.”
“Nay, lass, let be. I’ve enough for me needs and a bit over, I thank God. And I owe their mother summat that she brought you up a lady. ‘Tis not every stepmama’d’ve done it.”
“She was always very kind to me, and Papa was the dearest man, only not practical. I still regret that Hilltop Manor had to be sold, though I believe Geoffrey feels the loss more than James. However, enough of repining. What did you wish to say to me, Grandpapa?”
“Think ye this clutch-fisted aunt o’ theirn will take Alice?”
“I tried to word my letter in such a way that she will find it difficult to refuse,” replied Hester dryly. “The family never actually broke off all correspondence, you know, in spite of their disapproval of the ‘shopkeeper and his brat.’”
“If that’s what they call us, I suppose there’s no chance as Lady Bardry’d take you into Society along o’ Alice.” The old man sighed heavily as he abandoned his last hope of seeing his granddaughter well established.
“Oh no, Grandfather, I’d not expect such condescension, nor want it. Whatever would the children do if I were to start gadding about to grand parties? Come, do not fall into the mopes. I’ve no pretensions to beauty and never desired to buy a husband with my fortune, so I’m happy to be able to use it for the good of the dear children. Such plans as I have for them!”
In all Hester’s plans, there was no room for thoughts of marriage for herself. Used to regarding herself as a nondescript dab of a girl, she was oblivious to the improvements in her appearance wrought by maturity. She was aware that, in spite of her mother’s birth, a dowry of twenty thousand pounds might have brought her eligible suitors a-plenty. However, by the time Susan was of an age to be wed and Robbie to become a midshipman, her fortune would be much diminished, and at twenty-eight or -nine she would be firmly on the shelf. By that time, she had decided a little sadly, she would be so used to ruling the roost that doubtless the idea of submitting to a husband would be abhorrent to her anyway. She had every expectation of dwindling into a maiden aunt.
Busy from dawn to dusk—running the household, cooking, teaching the children—she had no time for regrets. Her slight figure belied a resilient strength, and, serene in the knowledge that she was doing her best, she seldom lost the gentle assurance that guided her family through good times and bad.
Now she kissed her grandfather goodnight and watched him trudge through the twilight garden to his cosy cottage. On the threshold he turned to wave to her, and she waved back. Then she went upstairs to see to her patient.
Mr. Fairfax was still sleeping, though far from peacefully. He moved restlessly as if trying to find a comfortable position, prevented by his leg. Hester laid a hand on the small area of his forehead that was not obscured by the bandage; he seemed somewhat feverish. She fetched lavender water and began bathing his brow. He soon grew still. The moaning and muttering ceased, and after a minute or two his eyes opened. They had a glazed look, which she attributed to the drug he had taken, and he seemed unable to focus on her face.
“Dreaming,” he mumbled. “No more lau . . . lau’num.” Then clearly: “Lavender lady!”
His eyes closed, and he seemed to sleep again. Now he lay peacefully, Hester was relieved to note. There was a slight smile on his face. Suspecting he had been having nightmares before, she wondered what he was dreaming of now and resolved to give him no more medicine without first consulting Dr. Price. She knew some people had unpleasant reactions to laudanum.
She sat by his bedside for another half hour. He continued to sleep quietly, so she lit a fresh candle, took hers, and went to join her family.
Chapter 2
Hester awoke in the middle of the night. The evening had been so warm that she had left her curtains open, and a huge harvest moon was floating in the midnight sky, looking near enough to pluck like a ripe apple, bathing woods and meadows in its glow. An errant ray had fallen across her face and roused her.
Since she did not feel drowsy, Hester decided to check on Mr. Fairfax. She put a wrap around her shoulders and slipped along the hallway, carefully avoiding the board that always creaked.
Mr. Fairfax was awake, and by the light of the guttering candle she could see that he was alert. There was no sign of fever or drug haze in the smiling face he turned toward her.
“Let me light a new candle,” she proposed. “It must be later than I thought if this one is nearly done.”
“I hope you did not rise solely for my sake. I shall do very well until morning.”
“How is your leg, sir?”
“It hurts like the devil,” he answered frankly, “but no more of that medicine, I beg of you. I had rather suffer the pain than the nightmares. Though, to tell the truth, I am rather sharp-set by pangs of hunger than by my injuries. I missed my dinner last night. Of course your cook must be abed, but do you suppose you might find me a piece of bread to keep me alive until breakfast?”
“I am the cook,” said Hester, flushing a little as he raised his eyebrows. “You see, we have but one maidservant and I had rather cook than clean,” she added hurriedly, then wondered whether that made it worse. Annoyed with herself for a sensitivity she did not normally feel, she spoke in an abrupt tone. “I can get you bread and cold meat, or perhaps an omelette.”
Mr. Fairfax unexpectedly seized her hand and kissed it before she could pull it away.
“I have offended you!” he exclaimed in mock despair. “And I am entirely at your mercy.” Still holding her hand, he studied it. “I was under the impression that cooks had huge, rough, red hands, and yours are small and soft and white.” He raised his eyebrows again, in enquiry this time.
“One of the things I make in my kitchen is a lotion for the skin,” explained Hester, and added, with candour, “Besides, Ivy washes the dishes. Come, give me back my incongruous hand and I will make you an omelette.”
“Bread and meat will be more than adequate, Miss Godric,” he said meekly, but with a teasing twinkle in his eye. She wondered if he knew how charming he was, but suspected that he was quite aware of it.
“You’ll eat what you’re given,” she told him tartly, and departed.
While she was gone, Lord Alton lay and thought about her. Her speech was that of a lady, yet the little information he had gleaned from their brief conversations placed her firmly in the lower middle class. A gentlewoman come down in the world, perhaps. No matter. Her reactions were delightfully unexpected, and he decided it might be amusing to further his acquaintance with her while he was confined to his bed. He would need amusement, he suspected, shifting painfully.