Angelina looked around, almost expecting a moppet to appear from behind Miss Gibb’s worn skirts.
“No, she is not here. I was fifteen. Miss Armstead, and disgraced. I could not feed myself, much less an infant. Mr. Gibb took her away, to a home.”
“An orphanage?” Angelina could have cried for the poor baby, for the poor girl. Her own life with the Armsteads and the harsh schoolmistresses was heaven compared to this horror.
Elizabeth nodded, her hand stroking Ajax’s head. “They named her Robinet, for she was such a frail, bird-like little thing. They told me she was too weak to survive anyway, that they were sparing me the heartbreak.”
“I am so sorry, Miss Gibb, and sorry you had to be reminded of your sorrow.”
“Oh, but my Robinet didn’t die. Before I took up my governess position, I searched through Mr. Gibb’s papers and I found the name of the orphanage. He had a receipt! Can you imagine, as if my daughter was a consignment of wine he’d delivered. I saw her, my baby. She was too sickly for anyone to adopt, but she was strong-willed enough to live, to wait for me. No one will take on a governess with a child of her own, however. I send whatever salary I earn, so the matron has agreed to keep her until I can...” She shook her head. “You see why I was hoping for the reward you promised.”
Angelina was already wondering how much money she could offer to Elizabeth without offending the young woman’s pride. “I will repay your coach fare, naturally. I do it for everyone who takes the bother to come. And recompense for your lost day’s wages, of course.”
“Oh, no, this is my holiday—without pay. My charges are visiting with their cousins, where there are scores of nursemaids. I would have visited Robinet, but I decided to try my luck here instead.”
“Forgive my prying, but do you like your current charges, Miss Gibb? Do your employers treat you well?”
Elizabeth laughed. “I am the governess; I never see my employers. As for the children, they are all dears, except that there are six of them.”
“Six? Why, you might as well”—Angelina jumped to her feet, books and chalks and papers flying—”be teaching school!”
* * * *
“She’d be perfect, my lord, I know she would!”
“Why, because the female spun you a sad tale? By Zeus, Lena, you and your tender heart would believe any taradiddle, wouldn’t you?”
“That’s Miss Armstead, and there is nothing wrong with my mind, even if my heart is soft,” Angelina countered. “I do not believe Elizabeth is my sister, just as I don’t believe Mercedes Lavalier is a mere casual acquaintance of yours.”
“What the deuce has my relationship with Mercedes— my nonrelationship, by all that’s holy—got to do with this stranger you want to take in like one of your strays?”
“Only to show that I am not as gullible and naive as you assume. I’ll agree that I cannot swear to the truth of Elizabeth’s story, but it should be easy enough to verify. She has references, but the best one of all is Harry Elkins. The little beast sat in her lap reciting his ABC’s, whilst I’ve been trying for months to teach the brat to hold a pencil, unsuccessfully, I must add. Elizabeth is a natural teacher, one who adores children. Perhaps if you ever get around to hiring a schoolteacher, Miss Gibb could take on the younger children. Lud knows, there are enough of the little devils for two teachers. And she could stay here for now, so you wouldn’t have the added expense of housing her. I’ll even pay Elizabeth’s salary. It will be worth it to me, not having to drum letters into Harry Elkins.”
“Gammon, the schoolteacher is my expense, I’ll pay the salary. In fact, if she stays here, I’ll be paying you for her room and board also. I’m already paying three years’ upkeep at the new kennels, I can stand the nonsense for one more female.”
“Don’t forget the new collars all around.”
Corin smiled. “As if you’d let me. That bargain did not include new diamonds for Juliette, you know.”
Smiling back, Angelina agreed. “Juliette wasn’t part of the negotiations. But does your offer to pay her keep mean that Elizabeth can stay?”
“Well, I suppose we might take her on, as a trial.”
“You’ll be pleased, I know it. So will Mercedes. Elizabeth speaks excellent French.” The two women were even now conversing in Mademoiselle Lavalier’s tongue. Any minute Angelina expected the Frenchwoman to start criticizing the governess’s wardrobe, but for now they were conversing about the dogs.
“Very well,” the viscount said. “You have convinced me, pending a check of her references.”
Angelina thought that it was the French speaking that had convinced him. Anything to keep Mercedes Lavalier content. “Of course.”
“I’ll have my man in London get on it tomorrow. If he approves Miss Gibb can give notice and be back here in a week or two to start her new position.”
“Notice won’t be necessary, my lord, since her employers are away for the month. And they aren’t even paying her.”
“And you don’t think that’s too convenient a story?”
“I think it’s lucky for you and the children.”
He sighed. “Very well, she can start as soon as she gets her things together. I’ll send a carriage back to London with her tomorrow.”
“That’s excellent, my lord, for I am sure your solicitor won’t find anything amiss with her references. There is one tiny problem, however.”
“How tiny?”
Angelina pursed her lips at the sneer in his voice. “About as tiny as mademoiselle’s dog that you neglected to mention when we discussed her visit.”
“Deuce take it, how was I supposed to know Mercedes Lavalier would escape Paris in the dead of night with a big white dog in a diamond collar? I’m amazed they made it past the first guard post.”
“What, did you think that Mercedes would abandon her pet? She couldn’t have left Juliette behind, no more than Miss Gibb can leave her daughter.”
“Daughter? You did say
Miss
Gibb? Hell and damnation, woman, what are you using for brains now that you’ve cut your hair? Why, the woman is no better than she ought to be, and you think I ought to hire her to teach my tenants’ children?”
Angelina lowered her voice. “She was fifteen, and she was assaulted. Her daughter is sickly and needs the good country air and the attention we can give her.”
“That is unfortunate and Miss Gibb has my sympathy, but Society sees her as ruined. Neither a sickly child nor a fallen woman belongs in a schoolhouse.”
“She
belongs in your aunt’s bed?” Angelina asked with a nod toward the sofa where Mercedes Lavalier was holding court.
Corin had no answer. “But what about your rep—” No, he was on thin ice there, too. In fact, he was already drowning.
Angelina was far ahead of him. “We can say Elizabeth is a widow.
Mrs.
Gibb. Her stepparents would not dare come forward to dispute the title, and many young mothers are without husbands nowadays because of the war. No one will think anything less of her for supporting her child in so genteel a fashion. Teaching is one of the few decent positions open to women of her background.”
“But you already introduced her as Miss Gibb.” Corin knew he was clutching at particularly thin straws. “How can you suddenly make her a widow?”
“I made an error, that’s all. A slight misunderstanding.”
“She has no ring.”
“She took it off for the journey because she was afraid of highwaymen. Or else she sold it for the war effort, to buy medicine for her husband.”
“Perhaps you’re the one who should be working for the War Office,” Corin muttered, but Angelina wasn’t paying attention.
“Besides,” she concluded, “the only ones who would notice her change in status or the lack of a ring are my own servants, who would never gossip, and Mercedes Lavalier, who isn’t one for casting the first stone.”
“What regiment?”
“Excuse me?”
“I said what regiment did her husband serve with?”
Angelina grinned. “It’s too upsetting for dear Elizabeth to talk about.”
Chapter Seventeen
Now this was heaven, Angelina decided, waking up and not having to face the children. In fact, she decided not to get up at all. For the first time in her life others were feeding the dogs, others were doing the chores, and others were teaching the children. Elizabeth was going to wait for the afternoon to set out to Town, in order to hold morning classes for her. Angelina pulled the blankets over her head and rolled onto her back.
Mademoiselle Lavalier’s habits must be catching, she thought, staring up at the canopy, determined to stay abed till luncheon. Except that she was wide awake and hungry. And Ajax didn’t like the men at the gatehouse, and Diamond liked to be handed his food, and Windy couldn’t eat liver. She got up.
Elizabeth was already in the morning room, sparklingly eager to start the day, anxious to prove herself to the viscount. If he accepted her, she could send for her daughter on the instant. She’d hardly been able to button her gown, with her fingers crossed from hoping so hard.
Averill Browne was also in the breakfast parlor, as usual. Calliope at his side. What was unusual was that neither Averill nor Elizabeth was talking, neither was eating. They just kept staring at each other, mesmerized.
Angelina was amazed. It seemed Juliette’s habits were the ones that were contagious, not Miss Lavalier’s.
Miss Armstead wasn’t surprised when the architect mentioned going to London that day to gather some new plans and order special materials. He’d go along with Mrs. Gibb in the viscount’s carriage, with her permission, thus saving expenses. Of course he wouldn’t ride in the coach, which would cast unwelcome shadows on the lady’s reputation; he’d ride on top with the driver. That way, Averill added, he’d be protecting Mrs. Gibb’s good name and protecting her person from footpads, like the dastards who’d stolen her wedding ring.
She’d have another one soon, if Angelina didn’t mistake the situation. It was early days yet, but the two seemed as if Cook had served up a slice of destiny along with the rashers and eggs. Angelina hoped so. Averill Browne was an intelligent, hardworking man, and Elizabeth was a kind, intelligent woman. If he was a shade too dramatic, her somberness balanced him nicely. They would make a good match, if the heavens and Viscount Knowle smiled on them.
Angelina decided she wouldn’t mention anything about the moonstruck pair to him. His lordship was too liable to find a sinister motive behind such a sudden attraction. Angelina would be willing to wager her entire savings that Lord Knowle did not believe in love at first sight. Why, if rumors were true, he was bringing some heiress to the Knoll for the sole purpose of determining her suitability as his viscountess. Like testing a new pistol before he bought it, Angelina thought indignantly. She herself, of course, believed in marrying for love, which she hoped would develop from the instant infatuation she glimpsed over the gooseberry jam. Miss Gibb deserved some happiness in her life. Miss Armstead might not have found her sister, but she had found a friend.
As for the little girl, Robinet, Angelina was determined to make her feel as welcome as any child ever felt. There was no nursery at Primrose Cottage, since it had been built for a rich man’s mistress, not his butter stamps. After that, Lady Sophie had taken up residence, so there were no old toys in the attic. Dog beds and baskets, furniture too delicate and valuable to put out in a houseful of hounds, but no toys. Angelina could only hope that Elizabeth’s daughter liked dogs.
After breakfast and a walk with Ajax and some of the others, Angelina checked on the rooms the servants were preparing. She thought the child would be anxious among strangers, and she also thought that Elizabeth wouldn’t want her daughter out of her sight, not after being apart so very long. Angelina and Mrs. Penn had selected the Yellow Room for Elizabeth, with its attached dressing room that now held a small bed and dresser, a cane rocker and a bowl of the first daffodils. The maids, Mrs. Penn and Mavis—none ever having had a child—agreed that the room was perfect, except for one thing. It needed a doll. The poor little mite needed something to cuddle in addition to a dog.
* * * *
“Confound it.” The viscount stepped into the book room unannounced except for the dogs’ barking. “Never tell me you’re taking in orphaned infants now, besides sisters and strays.” He took out his quizzing glass to survey the little garment in Angelina’s lap.
“Of course not, it’s for a doll for Elizabeth’s daughter. Mavis is constructing the doll; her stitches are tighter than mine.”
Dolls came from shops. Expensive shops, Corin was well aware, from years of his niece’s importunings. “Why don’t you just buy one? I’m sure the everything shop in Knowlton Heights has dolls.”
“Homemade is better. It will show how much we care. All the maids are sewing hats and knitting scarves. Mr. Penn and Jed Groom are building a cradle.”
They were going to so much trouble for a stranger’s ill-gotten girl child? Corin’s own castle staff was cringing at the thought of his sister arriving with her brats, and Florrie had been born there. They’d sooner make them cages than doll cradles. “You are so sure she’ll be staying, then?”
“Not for long,” Angelina answered cryptically. “But yes, her references are impeccable.”
“Good, for I’ve decided that it is a good thing she’ll be here, as a widow, of course. There will be men coming back and forth to see Mercedes. A proper young widow will add a bit of respectability. Not much, since she’s so young, but some, to counteract Mercedes’s, ah, flamboyance. I wouldn’t want any of the military types to consider you fair game, ah, less than respectable by association.”
“Just what kind of men do you have coming, that I’d need Elizabeth at my side? She is going to be at the village schoolhouse most of the day,”
Any kind of man, he thought, would make the obvious connection between Mercedes Lavalier and an attractive young female in her circle. For surely Mercedes could not be counted on to keep the intelligence officers in line. She was more likely to encourage them in outrageous behavior that could offend Miss Armstead. And if he, Corin, warned them off, they’d only assume he was marking his territory. The mousy Miss Gibb was Lena’s only protection against forward males. Mrs. Gibb, that was. Damn and blast, why did he have to develop a conscience about Lena’s reputation? Why did she have to be a duke’s granddaughter?