Be My Bride (15 page)

“Jingles,” Eleanor hissed, unable to see beyond the hangings of the bed to determine if anyone was still in it. For all she knew, Mary had merely been cleaning away a breakfast long eaten. She tiptoed a little farther into the room. “Jingles? Here, kitty, kitty.”

“He’s here,” a voice called. Eleanor swallowed, not sure whether to be relieved that the voice was not Justinian’s or concerned that the room was indeed inhabited. She peered around the hangings to see a tiny elderly woman nearly lost amongst a mountain of white-lace-covered pillows piled up against the headboard. Her skin was as pure as fine bone china, crinkling around the sharp blue eyes and soft pink mouth. In fact, her eyes and mouth were the only spots of color from the white lawn cap trimmed with lace and dripping ribbon to the white coverlet that was pulled up to her chest. The only color, that was, except the very black kitten who was trying to cross the white counterpane. Every time he minced across the uneven surface, the woman gently seized his hind foot and drew him back. Outraged, he dug his claws into the fine material and pulled it back with him. Eleanor couldn’t help but smile.

“You must be Miss Eleanor,” the woman murmured. “I am Eulalie Darby, Countess Wenworth.”

Eleanor’s heart skipped a beat, but she managed a curtsey. “Your ladyship, an honor to meet you.”

The countess quirked a white brow. “An honor is it? That is yet to be seen.” She nodded to where Jingles was once more attempting to reach the foot of the bed. “Is this my granddaughter’s kitten?”

“Yes, your ladyship,” Eleanor replied, reaching to catch the kitten. “I’m sorry Jingles disturbed you. I was just looking for someone to take custody of him.”

Deprived of his freedom, Jingles squirmed in her grip. Lady Wenworth held out her frail arms. “You needn’t take him away. I’m sure I can find something to entertain him.”

Eleanor wasn’t sure that was the best choice. If the kitten somehow was transmitting the illness, it would hardly do to infect someone as frail as the Countess. She hesitated, and a vaguely familiar light came to the Countess’ eyes.

“I am not accustomed to having to repeat myself,” Lady Wenworth murmured, the steel evident behind her gentle tone. “Give me the kitten.”

Swallowing, Eleanor complied. Jingles stared up at the countess before deigning to rest in her arms.

“Very good,” Lady Wenworth said. “Now, sit, Miss Eleanor. I should like to get to know you better.”

Surely the woman could see she was dressed for travel.  Eleanor hesitated again, but, as the blue eyes narrowed, she hurriedly sank onto the hard-backed chair beside the bed. She certainly didn’t want to give the woman apoplexy. On the other hand, it was apparent that Justinian hadn’t mentioned her connection with a certain Norrie Pritchett, whom the last earl had accused of fortune hunting, and Eleanor didn’t want to refresh her ladyship’s memory. An invalid even then, the woman had only met her a few times. Still, it seemed the better part of wisdom to escape as soon as she could.

She tried to remember Miss Partridge’s classes on etiquette at the school. Beyond forms of address and curtseys, she didn’t think topics of conversations suitable for dowager countesses had been covered. She vaguely remembered that fashion, weather, and health were considered safe gambits. Unfortunately, she knew nothing about the latest fashions, and it seemed rather impertinent to discuss matters of health with an invalid. “Lovely weather for December,” she said with a pleasant smile.

The countess regarded her sternly, although her blue-veined hands were gentle on Jingle’s fur. “Stop that at once. I was positive from Justinian’s description that you would make better conversation than that.”

“Sorry,” Eleanor murmured, abashed. “What is it you would like me to converse about?”

Eulalie waved a hand airily at everything and nothing. “Whatever you like. So long as it is original and witty.”

Eleanor felt as if her mind had suddenly frozen. She had never been called upon to discuss anything with anyone other than the staff and children. Certainly, no one had ever demanded that she be witty. She gazed at the countess, whose look was turning surly again, and suddenly she recognized the resemblance. “I see where Dottie gets her determination,” Eleanor said. “She’s just as likely to put me in a difficult position when she makes up her mind to have something.”

The countess laughed, a surprisingly hearty sound for one so frail. “And what do you do when she does?”

Eleanor returned her smile. “I have a choice of scolding her or hugging her. So far, the latter has worked rather well.”

“Very well then, I submit.” The countess threw open her arms, sending a startled Jingles dashing to the end of the bed, where he eyed them both unforgivingly.

Eleanor stared at her a moment in disbelief, but there was no mistaking her gesture or the curious moisture behind those blue eyes. If the countess had been one of Eleanor’s charges, she would have said the woman was lonely. Her heart went out to Lady Wenworth, and she hugged her tiny body close.

After a moment, the countess released her, eyes overbright. Eleanor felt tears in her own eyes as well.

“How lovely,” Lady Wenworth said with a sigh. “We must have more of those while you’re here.”

Eleanor glanced down at her traveling cloak. “I’m terribly sorry, your ladyship, but I shan’t be here long. I was just on my way, actually.”

Eulalie frowned. Something about the intensity of those knitted brows reminded Eleanor of the lady’s son as well. “That will never do. We’ve hardly had time to get acquainted. No, you must stay, at least through Christmas.”

The thought was so alarming that Eleanor had to press her lips together to keep from vehemently protesting. The countess was not what she had expected, but that didn’t mean she would ever be welcome here. She could not let a moment’s pleasantness cause her to forget her place. Collecting herself, she straightened. “I’m sorry, your ladyship, but I simply can’t.”

“Pish tosh,” Eulalie replied. “You can’t, or you won’t? If that school is the problem, I shall simply write and tell them your presence is needed here at the estate.”

Eleanor managed a polite smile. She had been in that position once before. It had not ended well. “But it isn’t needed. We both know that, Lady Wenworth. There is no possible reason for me to stay on. I would only feel as if I were taking advantage of your hospitality.”

The countess’ eyes narrowed again. “I’m not offering you hospitality, girl. I’m ordering you to stay and visit. That should assuage your sensibilities. Didn’t your mother teach you to defer to your betters?”

Eleanor felt herself grow cold. She could hear the echo of Lord Wenworth’s words:
Do not strive to mimic your betters, girl. Your place is at our feet, never at our sides.

“I know what is expected of me, Lady Wenworth,” she murmured, clenching her gloved fists. “But sadly, I have a tendency to speak my mind. You would not find me a pleasant companion for long, I fear. I might tell you that you are quite impossible.”

Eulalie grinned at her. “Only my husband ever had the courage to say such to me, mores the pity.” She reached out and squeezed Eleanor’s hand. Eleanor raised her head, surprised by the kindness of the touch. “Please stay, dear. Justinian doesn’t have time for me, and Mary hasn’t the courage to stand up to me. Even when Dottie is home . . .” She trailed off and clapped her hands. “That’s it! Of course. Dottie must come home for Christmas. Justinian mentioned you recommended she come home sooner. You can tell the school you stayed on to get things ready for her.”

Much as she knew she must leave, but she felt the pull of the countess’ offer. How sweet it would be to make a home for Dottie, a place where the girl could find happiness again. Still, she could not risk seeing Justinian. “I’m sorry, your ladyship, but I don’t see that that’s necessary.”

The countess waved her hand airily as she had done before. “Children need routines, schedules. At the very least, no one has lived in the nursery on a regular basis for years. Someone has to see that it is fit for my granddaughter. And it shouldn’t be too taxing, so you would have time to visit me. What do you say, my dear?”

She had to say no. She couldn’t be in the same house as Justinian for the three weeks remaining before Christmas and hope to avoid him. They would meet, repeatedly. As a sort of governess and companion, she would be in an impossible position, she could see, neither peer nor servant. She should leave before her heart could be bruised any further. She should walk out of the house and never see Jingles, Dottie, Lady Wenworth, or Justinian Darby ever again. What did she owe any of them?

“Lady Wenworth,” she heard herself say, “I would be delighted to stay. Consider me your Christmas helper.”

Chapter Six

From the frown on his mother’s face as he sat at her bedside, Justinian knew he was not reacting as she had expected to the news that Miss Eleanor would be gracing them with her presence through the Christmas season. “You asked her to stay!” he all but yelped.

His mother eyed him with such intensity that he wondered whether his remark had been taken as annoyance or joy. The truth of the matter was, he wasn’t sure himself.

“Really, Justinian,” she said, nose in the air. “You simply must stop acting the part of martyr. Miss Eleanor will hardly get in your way. She will spend most of her time getting things ready for Dottie and the rest of the time here with me. You won’t have to lift a finger. On the contrary, you might even find her helpful. I would imagine that as a teacher she writes with a fine hand, and she must know something about summing. I daresay she can’t be as bright as that girl we had up from the school that summer for you, but she might be able to help you with your estate work.”

Justinian had a sudden vision of Norrie seated at the mahogany desk, the winter sun making a halo of her light brown hair, dust motes glittering around her. He swallowed. “No, thank you, Mother. I prefer to work alone.”

His mother shook her head. “And will you dig your own grave as well? It isn’t a sin to need assistance, Justinian. You weren’t so prickly when you were younger. I think you actually enjoyed having that young lady as a tutor.”

Was she reminding him of what Norrie had meant to him? She needn’t have tried so hard. He had never forgotten. He peered closer at the guileless blue eyes, the dimple that was still evident in the wrinkles beside her mouth. His mother had ever been the master manipulator. What was her game this time? She obviously did not recognize the woman or she would be teasing him about it now. Or were these reminders her way of showing that she had recognized Norrie?

“Perhaps you should tell me exactly what you and Miss Eleanor discussed,” he said, watching her. “If some agreement has been made, I should understand it better.”

She waved an elegant hand. “Oh, fah, we have nothing so formal as an agreement. She is pleasant company. Haven’t you been harping at me to find a companion? I liked her and persuaded her to stay.” She frowned again, gaze sharpening. “And it took some persuading. Have you taken her in dislike, Justinian? Did you say something to make that poor girl feel unwelcome?”

Despite himself, he flinched. Was he so obvious in his attentions once again that she should feel the need to flee? Why could he not be more civil in her presence? “All the teachers at the school know they can count on the Darbys for assistance,” he hedged. “I’m sure Miss Eleanor is no exception.”

“Yes, well,” his mother said, obviously dissatisfied, “she seemed in a tearing hurry to leave. It was all I could do to convince her to stay until Christmas. Has she family, do you know? Have I intruded on pressing business of some sort?”

Now Justinian frowned. “She has no family, of that I’m certain.” He remembered her comment the first day about leaving for a holiday in York. What gammon! Norrie Pritchett was an orphan. She had no family outside the Barnsley School. His frown deepened as he wondered why she had felt compelled to lie. Worse, why would she want to keep him from mentioning her presence to the school? He had no time to puzzle further, however, for he caught his mother leaning forward, for all the world like a hound who’d caught the scent, and forced a pleasant smile on his face. “Most likely you merely put her in a difficult position with the school,” he offered. “I’ll send word you’ve appropriated her. I’m sure they won’t mind.”

His mother tossed her head. “Of course they won’t mind. We are Darbys.”

“Of course,” he said with a chuckle, rising to go and bending to kiss her cheek.

“You should also know that I asked her to dine with me every meal she’s here,” the countess said as he straightened. She eyed him for a moment, then smiled brightly. “You may join us if you’d like.”

The last thing he wanted was to spend a cozy meal with his mother and the woman of his dreams. “Thank you, but no, Mother. I have matters that I must see to.”

She sighed, lowering her gaze and plucking at the bedcovers. “Oh, very well. Leave an old woman to her own devices. Small wonder I’m reduced to picking up strays when my own sons can’t find time for me.”

Justinian felt a stab of guilt. “Mother, you know I’m not trying to avoid you. Besides, there isn’t room here for three.” He blew her another kiss, but she refused to look up. Annoyed, he shook his head and turned to go. As he opened the bedchamber door, he found himself nose to topknot with Norrie.

She dropped a deep curtsey, treating him to the view of the crown of her golden-brown head. As she rose, he saw that she was completely recovered from her malady. The line of her cheek was smooth and soft, and her lashes wreathed her eyes in gold as she demurely lowered her gaze. He wanted nothing so much as to tip her chin up with his finger and press his lips to hers. Instead, he returned her curtsey with a nod.

“Miss Eleanor. My mother tells me you will be staying with us a while longer.”

Was that regret or pleasure she heard in his voice? Eleanor glanced up quickly, but he was smiling politely. It seemed to her the smile was forced, and her answering smile must have been all but gentle. “Just until things are set to rights for Dottie’s return, my lord. I have other things I must see to.”