The Nanny Arrangement Page 9

  “It’s a Bible study at my sister’s home.” Becky shrugged her shoulders. “You want me to bring up your niece as a proper young English girl. Well, I can tell you right now that no proper young lady grows up without some sort of religious education.”

  “We don’t worship here at Kellridge.” Well, that wasn’t entirely accurate. Mrs. Clairbourne offered evening prayers in the servants’ quarters, but that was done in a clandestine manner. He knew of it, of course, just like he knew of everything that occurred in his home. He didn’t give it his full acknowledgment. “I don’t worship,” he amended.

  “I simply cannot be asked to bring up Juliet without teaching her about the Lord. I don’t know precisely why you choose to abstain from religion, but that shouldn’t influence Juliet. You’re an adult, after all. You are free to make your own decisions. You cannot make those kinds of choices on a child’s behalf.” Becky’s words were bland enough, and must have been carefully chosen. Her expression told a different story—her pursed lips and aloof demeanor said, in no uncertain terms, that she thought his decisions were questionable at best.

  Paul turned away and stared out the window at the rolling pastures. Sunlight streamed down, gilding the fields, and cows and sheep munched contentedly on the grass. A pastoral scene to be sure, calming in its utter peacefulness, and a welcome antidote to his roiling emotions. If he continued fighting with Becky, then all the order that Kellridge relied upon would be disrupted. And that could not happen, not if he could prevent it.

  And, in truth, ’twas downright unpleasant to be forever bickering with Becky. Before she came to work at Kellridge, he’d enjoyed her company. He would often find her at Goodwin when he came to call on Daniel and Susannah, and she was always so pleasant and sweet—a good deal friendlier than her sister Nan. She was pretty to look upon, too. She had charming manners, an eloquent way of speaking, and those attributes, when paired with her dark hair, made a lovely combination. One that could turn a young man’s head, but he wasn’t a young man any longer. He felt every one of his twenty-four years, and then some. He missed the easy companionship Becky used to offer. And if he crossed her at every turn, he would not regain it.

  And, of course, there was the sneaking suspicion that she was right. A genteel young girl had to be brought up as a Christian. If he continued to balk at this, she might enlist the help and support of Daniel and Susannah. And they would not only back her side of things, but possibly condemn him for his choices as well.

  He sighed, running his hands through his hair. Part of being an effective leader meant choosing one’s battles well.

  “I shall allow you to take Juliet to Bible study on one condition.” He remained fixed in his position, unwilling to turn and face the triumph that must be reflected on her face. He hated giving in, but in this case, surrender was necessary.

  “Yes. What is it?” If she was exulting in her success, her voice continued to sound strangely impassive.

  “That you do not make me go.” He must lighten the mood. Get back to his old, teasing ways with her. The serious nature of the past few days grated on his nerves. He was keenly attuned to his duty, and when it was done and time began to pall, he enjoyed play as much as any man. “After all, I am sure that if I crossed the threshold of a chapel, I should be struck by a lightning bolt for my hypocrisy.”

  “Well, you made it through my sister’s wedding in that same chapel without being singed,” she replied tartly. “And allow me to remind you that if you question His very existence, then you shouldn’t even worry about divine retribution.”

  He couldn’t suppress a chuckle at that. She had the right of it, of course.

  “Have we reached an understanding, then?” He turned to face her, the spark set off by their teasing causing hope to surge through him. Perhaps things would finally settle at Kellridge, and he would no longer have to play the role of the heavy-handed villain.

  “Yes, we have.” She cast a beautiful smile his way, her eyes glowing like amethysts. She was such an appealing young gal when she was happy. As pretty as Ruth Barclay, in a way. Yet Ruth lacked that inner warmth Becky possessed. Ruth had been one of the most beautiful girls in the county, and the kindest, but she had always been remote—as remote as a star twinkling up in the sky.

  Well, it would never do to remember Ruth. She was gone. He had faced his dread once this week. He had gone to see his niece and endured the ordeal without breaking down into hysterics like an overwrought female. That was more than enough in one week—or even one year.

  He showed Becky out of his study and closed the door behind her. It was also poor form to be comparing his fiancée to his niece’s nursemaid. Becky was there to care for Juliet, and not to entertain and enchant him. He scrubbed his hand over his face. He must be tired. That was the reason behind all of this. He was weary because of all he had endured this week. He had been courageous and triumphed, and therefore, there was no urgent need to return to London. Of course, he would go for the season. It was expected of him, and it would be pleasant to return. But there was no driving need to distance himself from Kellridge. He could recuperate in peace, and set about on his journey in a deliberate manner, as he should have from the very start.

  Funny. Facing the one thing he’d feared most was actually bringing him freedom, rather than bringing him to his knees.

  Chapter Nine

  Becky held tightly to Juliet’s hand as they skirted Goodwin Hall, heading toward the little chapel that rested on the fringes of the estate grounds. The chapel had been built by Daniel’s mother some time ago, and Daniel had lovingly restored it to its natural beauty as both a tribute to her memory and a gift to his new bride. Already, tenants and servants were milling around outside, preparing to join into worship together. They were late, and she hated being late. How could she help it? At the very last moment, her charge had balked at wearing shoes, kicking and flailing her little feet so that Becky had to well nigh wrestle her to make her give in.

  Beside her, Juliet made a hiccupping sound, her eyes still red from crying. They must look a sight. Becky had had no time at all to attend to her own toilette this morning, since she spent all her time working on Juliet. Nothing had gone right. Not one task. Waking her up at a decent hour, forcing her to have a decent breakfast, giving her a new dress to wear, combing her hair and of course the shoes—from the crack of dawn ’til this moment, their morning had been one long argument.

  How could she be exhausted already? ’Twas not even half past ten yet. And already, she wanted nothing more than to curl up into a ball on her bed and draw the coverlet over her head.

  Two children, a good bit older than Juliet judging by their size, drew up alongside them. “Can she play with us?”

  Juliet pressed herself to Becky’s side. Well, even if she had fought against her nursemaid all morning, at least she still depended on her in times of duress. That was something. Wasn’t it? “Aren’t we late? Surely we don’t have time to play.”

  “Children’s Bible study is over there.” The other child pointed a grubby finger at a clearing in the woods. An entire brood of children congregated under the walnut trees, playing games and shouting at each other. “We play for a while and then our teacher reads us a verse.”

  “Look at her! She looks like a little doll in her dress and bonnet.” The first urchin proceeded to grasp Juliet around the waist and then she struggled to lift her. “What a big dolly!” She set Juliet down and panted, taking a step backward.

  “She’s so cute. Can she please come with us?”

  The other child grasped Becky’s free hand. “Come on, little one! Don’t you want to play?” She crooned the words in a high-pitched voice, as though she were the adult and Juliet the baby.

  Juliet tugged her hand free and frowned, her eyebrows drawing together. Then she clamped her free hand around Becky’s skirts. “No.”

  Becky coul
d not check the flicker of happiness that sprang to life within her. Her first English word! Of course, how fitting that the first thing out of Juliet’s mouth would be a refusal.

  “You two run along,” Becky said with a smile. “We’ll be there in a moment.”

  The children backed away, their mouths turned downward in disappointment. Then they flew off, booted feet skimming the path. “Miss Eugenia! We have a new student!”

  Juliet held Becky in that same viselike grip, her strength almost uncanny in one so small and so skinny. Becky leaned down and patted her thin back. “You’ll have so much fun at Bible study. What a welcome change! Finally, people your own age to play with.” She resumed their progress down the path, as though Juliet weren’t clinging for dear life to her skirt.

  “No.” The single word was clearer and even more deliberate than before.

  “Well, you simply must go. All good little girls learn their Bible lessons.” No need to make a truly compelling argument, since Juliet probably still didn’t understand most of what she was saying.

  “No.” Louder now, and more insistent.

  “Come now.” Becky’s nerves were worn to a thread. Why must everything be so difficult with Juliet? Why couldn’t she just submit to the normal decencies of everyday life?

  “No!” Juliet shrieked the word at the top of her lungs, and then threw herself onto the dirt path, kicking her scrawny legs with each repetition. “No. No. NO!”

  The flock of children beneath the walnut tree all turned, watching the tableau with keen interest. The chapel door opened and Nan stepped out, rushing toward them with her eyebrows raised to her hairline. “We can hear you all the way inside! What on earth is the matter?”

  “She won’t go to Bible study.” Becky’s voice choked and for a dangerous moment, she feared she would lose all control, too. She wanted nothing more than to throw herself on the dirt beside her charge, kicking and screaming until all the pain and frustration of the past few days finally ebbed.

  “Well, you can’t very well allow her to throw a fit out here.” Nan crossed her arms over her chest and looked down at Juliet’s kicking, thrashing form. “Can’t you calm her down?”

  “If I could, do you think I would be allowing her to run on like this?” Nan could be so provoking at times. Here they hadn’t seen each other for a while, and yes, the circumstances were quite vexing, but rather than recognize the emotional exhaustion staring her straight in the face, Nan pointed out the obvious defects of the situation.

  “Well, I suppose not.” Nan shook her head. “Honestly, ’tis hard to put together a coherent thought with all that noise. What would we do whenever Susannah gave vent to her temper?”

  “Once you dashed her with a pitcher full of water.” Despite her fatigue and aggravation, Becky smiled at the memory. “That was an effective antidote.”

  Nan gave a half-hearted smile. “It wouldn’t work now. One simply cannot dash water on a small child. On a sixteen-year-old sister, such an action is permissible.”

  “Well, we would often walk away,” Becky recalled. “If Susannah didn’t have an audience, her temper often simmered down.”

  “That’s true. Many times we just had a sudden desire to walk to the village or down the street a bit when she was in the throes of a tantrum.” Nan reached out and grasped Becky’s hand. “Shall we try it?”

  Becky nodded. That brief, warm surge of sisterly affection heartened her a bit. “Should we walk toward or away from the source of the problem? She doesn’t want to go to Bible study. She seems frightened of other children.”

  “I say, let’s walk away from it. For today. Then next Sunday, you can try again.” Nan spun them around and they began walking down the path. Juliet’s screams quieted.

  “How are things at the shop?” Keeping up conversation was difficult under these circumstances, and she had the desire to spin around and check on Juliet. She took a deep breath, reminding herself that they were strolling away at a deliberate pace, and she was not very far behind them.

  “The shop is doing well, though I miss you.” Nan gave her hand a squeeze. “I have no one to argue with. All my workers are too compliant.”

  Becky laughed, but it sounded bitter even to her own ears. “Oh, I have had plenty of arguments in my new position. I am sure Paul wishes he’d hired someone more amenable.”

  “Oh, I don’t know. I heard Susannah tell Daniel that it was good for someone to stand up to Paul. What you’re doing is admirable.” Nan halted her progress and they came to a standstill. The patter of little boots on the path echoed behind them. “See? Already she misses you.”

  Juliet drew up beside them, her fresh summer dress a wrinkled mess, streaked with dirt.

  “Well, I hope you are ashamed of your behavior. I must confess, I am appalled.” Becky brushed the grime off the bodice of Juliet’s frock. Juliet, in one swift gesture, captured Becky’s hand and held it to her cheek. “You see how she is, Nan? One moment, a defiant temper. The next, she is sweetness and light. I never know how or when her mood will change.”

  “This is all very new to her still.” Nan, in her practical fashion, delineated the trying aspects of the case. “She’s in a foreign country, she’s being made to mind for the first time ever in her brief life, and she’s a child anyway. Even if circumstances were absolutely perfect, she would still, as a baby, have difficulty maintaining her temper.”

  “I suppose so.” They neared the gates of Goodwin Hall, where Foster sat waiting with the landau. “Thank you for your help. I get overwhelmed at times. And at Kellridge, I am completely on my own.”

  “Doesn’t Paul help at all?” Nan gave her an awkward pat on the back. She was never very good at physical displays of sisterly affection.

  “No. Juliet’s care is entirely my responsibility. I go to him whenever I have a question about the methods by which Juliet is being raised. Handling her temper and implementing a series of routines to regulate her life—well, that is my duty. If I go running to him every time I have a bad moment, then he will think me incapable of handling the job.” She stroked the top of Juliet’s head. Despite her recent tantrum, her curls remained relatively smooth. That was some progress, at least. It had taken a good hour to detangle her hair this morning.

  “Don’t feel you have to stay if the job’s too hard. I mean—you can always come back to the shop.” Nan gave one of her rare, encouraging smiles.

  Becky paused a moment. It was good of Nan to offer, and yet, the manner in which she offered still spoke volumes. The shop was Nan’s to share now, no longer theirs together. And nothing would ever change that. Juliet—well, Juliet’s care belonged to Becky alone. Though ’twas daunting, at least it was her challenge to accept. It would be nice to share the burden with others, but wasn’t God calling her to care for Juliet? At the same time, if He did choose her, why did He make the work so very difficult? Her head throbbed.

  “Thank you,” she said simply, and kissed Nan on the cheek. The sisterly bond that held them together for so many years had subtly changed over the past few weeks. Of course she loved Nan. She always would. Here, their paths diverged, and it wasn’t sad. Why, this was a part of life. She now had her purpose and her meaning, and though she was afraid of failure, at least this was hers alone. Tears pricked the back of her eyes as she turned toward the landau. “I’ll bring Juliet by for a new bonnet some time,” she promised, handing her charge up to the seats.

  “Only if you promise she won’t tear the place apart,” Nan warned. She could be joking, but the same serious vein that underlay all her conversations remained fixed in place. No, she was being honest. And that was so much like Nan that Becky had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from bawling in earnest.

  Foster started the horses and they turned a broad circle, heading away from Goodwin. Kellridge, so foreign to her just a few days ago, was now no long
er a mere place of employment, a forbidding and impressive house on a hill. Yet it wasn’t precisely home either. Kellridge was a new beginning for her—of finding her place in this world and starting down the path God had chosen for her. Juliet’s head sagged against her shoulder as they rolled and jounced over the roads. Becky wrapped her arm around her charge’s thin shoulders as her heart swelled. After years of living in the shadows of her sisters, a sense of purpose and belonging trickled into her soul.

  * * *

  The bothersome thing about Sunday mornings was that there was so precious little to do. Everyone was attending church or services of some sort, and his servants often took the morning off to attend to their own personal matters. Even if he didn’t believe in a higher power, Paul permitted Sundays to be leisurely and restful for everyone at Kellridge, from its master to the lowliest stable hand or scullery maid.

  He cast aside the book he’d been trying to read for the past quarter of an hour. If he was in London he could take himself off to pursue more exciting matters, even on the Sabbath. Unfortunately, out in the country, he was quite on his own.

  He could go walk around the estate. The weather was fine after days of rain, and he didn’t ache quite as badly today as he had in days past. He strolled out of the library and down the hallway, just as the front door opened to admit a struggling Becky. Foster held the door open for her, but she was carrying Juliet, who had fallen soundly asleep, her mouth forming a little “o.”

  There was no way Becky could carry her charge to the second floor without tripping over her own skirts in the process. No use having two injured people in the Kellridge household. He made a shushing gesture with his hand, then nodded to her and grasped hold of Juliet, cradling her to his chest. She was so thin and bony. What on earth had his sister been feeding her? Knowing Juliana, she’d probably allowed her entire household to subsist on pâté de foie gras served on tiny toast squares. Juliet had, in all likelihood, never tasted porridge in her brief life.