Lily George (7 page)

“I apologize, Ensign Rowland. I knew, in some ways, that speaking to Dr. Phillips was an invasion of your privacy. I hesitated to do so but thought perhaps he could really be of assistance. Please understand it was done in an attempt to help you rather than as a way to hurt you.” She turned to go and then whirled around, her skirts flaring about her slippers. “And I understand from Lieutenant Cantrill that you will be far too busy in your work here to attend any more meetings. Shall I consider our reading sessions finished for the time being?”

He nodded. His heart was lodged in his throat, making speech impossible once more.

“Very well.” Were those tears in her eyes? Surely not. He must be imagining things—putting thoughts and emotions on Lucy that weren’t really there. “I wish you the best of luck, Ensign. I hope your new position gives you a great deal of happiness.”

He nodded once more. She patted the table with one graceful, gloved hand and gave him a long, searching glance. “Did you know that you regain your speech almost entirely when you are angry, Ensign? I just thought you should know.” Then she left, taking with her the last bit of beauty, of life, of hope in that small, dusty workroom.

Rowland sank onto his step stool, the weight of her departure sinking like lead into his very being. He had been so close to having her friendship, and then he threw it away.

When would he stop being a coward?

Chapter Seven

L
ucy was still shaking when she let herself into the back door of Lord Bradbury’s townhome. Whether she was shaking with fury or fear mattered not a whit. In fact, she refused to examine her emotions too closely. She needed the privacy of her room. No, she needed first a bracingly hot cup of tea. Which she would then carry to the comfort and solitude of her bedroom. She would relax then for never had she been so rattled in her life.

Lucy retrieved the kettle from the cabinet and began boiling water for her tea. Thank goodness the kitchen was blessedly empty. She didn’t want to make small talk with any of the other servants at the moment. She smoothed her still-trembling hands on her apron. She needed to gain some measure of calm before speaking to anyone else.

She’d never really argued with anyone before— certainly not with a young man. She’d spent her life trying to get along with others, playing the part of helper in the background of other, more important people’s lives. She never had mattered enough to anyone to even get into a disagreement. Much less a fight.

She retrieved the canister of tea leaves and placed them into the strainer, breathing deeply. The smell of tea leaves was so pleasant, so soothing. She closed her eyes and breathed once more, just as the whistle of the kettle rent the air. She splashed the hot water into the cup and carried it upstairs, not bothering with a tray and all the accoutrements of a proper tea break. She just needed to be alone, and the quicker the better.

She settled into her window seat, pressing her hot cheek to the cool glass. But her solitude was short-lived. As soon as Lucy settled behind the curtain with her cup of tea, a knock sounded on the door.

“Enter?” Perhaps it was the girls, returned from their day out with their papa. But no, Sophie poked her head in the doorway. Lucy sighed with relief. Perhaps she could confide in Sophie.

“Oh, good. I was hoping you were back.” Sophie bounded into the room, plunking herself down on the settee. “I’ve some news. I think I shall be headed for Brightgate soon.”

“Really?” Lucy’s heart lurched a bit. With no more lessons, and Sophie gone, ’twould be a dreary existence indeed. It was good for her to go and all—but when Sophie left, Lucy had only her charges to talk to.

“Yes, if Charlie can arrange matters. You see, his mother is determined that I should come to Brightgate for a proper introduction to the family. I don’t know how we shall manage it, but Charlie feels that perhaps Aunt Katherine could help.” Sophie toyed with a loose thread on the upholstery fabric, her face turning a lovely shade of pink.

“But...your engagement isn’t real, is it? I thought this was merely a ruse to keep Cantrill’s mother from hounding him about marriage.” Honestly, this farce of Sophie’s grew stranger by the moment. Why wouldn’t she just admit her love for Lieutenant Cantrill and be done?

“It was, but now our plan has taken on a life of its own.” Sophie kept her face downcast, her brilliant blue eyes turned toward the Aubusson rug. “How did you fare?” she asked after a moment’s pause. “Did you see your ensign today?”

“Yes, I did. But not at the veterans’ group.” She cleared her throat. How much of this should she tell Sophie? Sometimes, Sophie only appeared interested in her own problems. Would she even listen if Lucy spilled the whole truth? Still, Sophie was her only confidante, and she would be leaving soon for Brightgate. It wouldn’t hurt to tell her everything. In truth, it would be a relief to unburden herself.

Lucy confided the whole of her morning to Sophie, whose eyebrows shot up in surprise as Lucy finished her tale. “Goodness,” she breathed, patting Lucy’s hand.

“So, you see, I had to run home and just give myself a moment to mull things over. I don’t know what to do, Sophie. I—I have no purpose in life now. The girls are growing up and won’t need me soon. Helping the ensign was going to be so interesting, and now that’s gone, too. And soon you will be leaving me for Brightgate...” Hot tears welled in her eyes, and she broke off with a sniffle.

“Oh, sweet Lucy. If it makes you feel any better, have a good howl.” Sophie enfolded her in a warm, violet-scented embrace, breaking down the last of Lucy’s reserve. She cried until the bitter disappointment flowed from her being, washed away by her salty tears. Then, hiccupping a bit, she pulled away from Sophie and fumbled for her handkerchief.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know why I am so upset.” She blew her nose and gave a deep, shuddering sigh.

“Well, I imagine it’s for many reasons, though I am not certain you are ready to admit them to yourself just yet,” Sophie replied in a gentle tone.

Lucy glanced up, her defenses bubbling to the surface. “I don’t love the ensign if that’s what you are implying. He is—he was—a good friend to me. Someone of my own age, whom I could speak to. It’s nice, after years of being alone, to have friends.”

“Why are you so stubborn, Lucy? Why not admit that you can—and should—fall in love?”

Lucy leaned back against the comforting arm of the settee. How to explain her feelings to someone like Sophie? After all, though Sophie had never suffered poverty, she’d never been truly alone. Truly independent. She’d always had her sister and no end of swains. There was always someone there to love her, to want to take care of her. She hadn’t had to learn—as Lucy had, while still quite young—that there was no one for her to depend on but herself.

“Not all of us are beautiful,” she snapped, regretting her tone as soon as she’d bitten the words out. Sophie drew back a little in surprise. “Oh, I’m sorry, Sophie. It’s just that I realized at a very early age that I was truly alone in this world. I cannot hope for someone to come along and take all my troubles away. I have to earn my own bread through my own wits.”

“Does that mean, then, that you can never fall in love?” Sophie eyed her expectantly.

“It means that, though I may lose my heart just as anyone would, I may not allow myself the luxury of love. I’m far from an eligible match, so there is nothing to gain and much to lose should I put my heart at risk. I shouldn’t lose my temper or waste any more thoughts on my situation with the ensign. We were friends, and through my own stupidity, I lost his friendship.” Hateful words, they were. But it was better to be honest with oneself. There were no hearts and flowers in her future. “The only question is, what shall I do to occupy myself now that the ensign no longer wants my help?”

“Well, there is always a lot of work to be done with the veterans’ group, even if the ensign is no longer attending meetings,” Sophie replied in a determinedly cheerful tone of voice. “I’ve got a bee in my bonnet about a sewing club for the widows. Bringing everyone together to sew clothes. I think it would do the women a world of good. Some of them have such threadbare dresses. Why not do something to teach the women or the children of the group? It would help immensely, and it might make you feel better, too.”

Lucy’s heart warmed to the idea. The little children who darted in and out of the pews at Saint Swithin’s were so adorable. How delightful it would be to sit with them, and read to them and instruct them. It would be as close to her dream of her own school as she could get. And when Louisa made her debut, and Lucy had to search for a new position, having some experience with small children might make it easier to find a new job.

“That’s a brilliant idea, Sophie.” She twirled a dark lock of hair around her forefinger. “I shall start making plans right now since we have the rest of the day off. And you? I suppose you’ll start packing for Brightgate. How I shall miss you when you are gone, my dear.”

Sophie rose, giving Lucy a deeply dimpled smile. “I love being called brilliant,” she said with a laugh. “But don’t worry. I’ll be gone to Brightgate and home before you can say Jack Robinson. I am sure by then you’ll have taught all the small urchins of the veterans’ group their Latin declensions.”

“Hardly.” Lucy smiled. “But you’ve given me a sense of purpose and direction, and for that I am so thankful.”

“You are welcome.” Sophie started for the door, then paused, her hand on the latch. “Just promise me one thing, Lucy. Don’t give up on love altogether. It’s...wonderful.”

Lucy gave a rueful grin. Sophie was such a romantic. She had no idea of the hard realities of life. ’Twould be a pity to squash her girlish dreams, even if they held no meaning for a spinster governess. “All right.” She sighed. “I promise.”

After Sophie had gone, Lucy settled at her little white desk with a sheet of foolscap. Time to plan a bright future for the lads and lasses who clustered at the meetings on Thursdays. There was no need to waste another thought on Ensign Rowland. She’d made a dreadful blunder, but she’d apologized for it. If she lingered too long, she ran the risk of being one of those obsessive old spinsters who pined after a lost love for decades. She wasn’t like them. She was alive and full of purpose.

She might get lonely at times. But that was to be expected. The only way to stop those feelings was to live a life devoted to others. That was her true purpose in life. She was a mere background character in other people’s lives.

* * *

“I want to go to the Assembly Rooms for our first outing,” Louisa announced calmly the next morning at breakfast.

“The Assembly Rooms, Louisa? That’s hardly the educational outing I had thought of,” Lucy replied in her best governess tone of voice. And the Assembly Rooms were far too close to Felton’s shop. Though she had resolved never to think of Ensign Rowland again, she wasn’t yet ready to run the risk of seeing him so soon. “Why not something more educational in nature?”

“Because. Papa wouldn’t take us to the Rooms yesterday.” Louisa spread a thick layer of strawberry jam on her toast. “He said that we’d be seeing the interior of them all too soon. But that’s not true for me, Lucy. It will be years and years before I get to see them.” She took a bite out of her toast and chewed thoughtfully.

Lucy toyed with the eggs on her plate. Amelia was due for a series of last-minute fittings before the Assembly Rooms ball; Sophie had moved up the fittings just in case she would be departing for Brightgate within the week. So she and Louisa had the entire day alone together. “Why not the Circus?” she asked, a hopeful note creeping into her tone.

“The Circus? I’ve been there already. Please, Lucy? I shan’t ask for another frivolous outing again. Cross my heart.” Louisa made a solemn
X
across her bodice. “I just want to peek in the doorway. Such an outing would give me hope—something to think of in the coming years as I await my dazzling debut...” She trailed off, fixing her governess with a mournful gaze.

Thus conquered, Lucy couldn’t suppress a laugh. Louisa was so funny. She couldn’t help loving her charge. “Oh, very well. After breakfast, we’ll stroll to the Assembly Rooms. And then, afterward, we’ll come home. You shall spend the rest of the day in the schoolroom to give your poor governess some hope.” It was quite likely that they wouldn’t run into the ensign. After all, she’d had to wind her way back into the shop to even encounter Mr. Felton. ’Twould be highly unlikely that the ensign would be lolling around by the entrance to the Assembly Rooms.

That’s what she told herself, but her hands began perspiring mightily, and her heart beat like a heavy drum in her chest as they drew closer. Thank goodness for her gloves. She was holding Louisa’s hand, and it would never do for her charge to realize from her damp palms just how nervous she was. She must remain calm and practical, because pretending that she meant anything more to Ensign Rowland than a temporary annoyance was the height of pretentiousness and vanity.

“Do you think the doors are locked?” Louisa whispered as they stepped up to the entryway.

“Why are you whispering?” Lucy chuckled. Louisa spoke as though they were entering a sacred monument. “Just try the latch.”

“No—I don’t dare to try it. You try it, Lucy,” Louisa murmured, tugging at Lucy’s hand.

“Oh, for goodness’ sake.” Lucy grasped the latch and pulled, and the heavy door swung open with ease. “Come on, now. This was all at your bidding.” She pulled Louisa inside.

The door swung shut behind them, the sound echoing through the empty room.

“Oh, my. How glorious.” Louisa moved forward on tiptoe, extending her hands as though a phantom dance partner awaited. “Do you see the chandelier, Lucy? It’s even bigger and grander than the one at home.”

Yes, indeed it was. The morning sunlight streaming through the windows caught its innumerable prisms, sending little rainbows of light glinting around the pristine walls and polished dance floor. What would it be like, to be a young lady in a silk gown, waiting for a dance with a young man in this very room? She closed her eyes for a moment. What if a lanky young man with stormy green eyes walked up to her with a bow?

“Lucy, are you all right? You’ve got the strangest expression on your face.” Louisa’s voice snapped Lucy out of her reverie.

What a fool she must have looked. A right ninny in fact. She gave herself a shake. “I’m ready for something to eat. Shall we go home? Or shall we stop at Molland’s?” The quicker they were out of this room, the better—and Louisa could hardly resist the temptation of a luncheon out.

Lucy’s plan worked. “Oh! Let us go to Molland’s,” she gushed, grasping Lucy’s hand once more. They turned to go, but their progress was halted as the door swung open and a group of workmen bustled in. “Come on, men, the work’s being done in the back of the room,” a familiar voice cried.

Lucy gasped as she spied Mr. Felton and behind him, a load of wood in his hands, Ensign Rowland.

Mr. Felton smiled and came toward her with his hand extended. “Miss? How do you do?”

Lucy grasped his hand and gave a quick curtsy. “Mr. Felton, this is my charge, the Honorable Louisa Bradbury. Louisa, this is Mr. Felton. He runs a cabinetry shop next door.”

Mr. Felton bowed at Louisa. “That I do, Miss. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must put these men to work. We’re repairing some woodwork for the ball next week.” He turned to the ensign and relieved him of his burden of wood. “Rowland. You can join us in a bit. Make sure these ladies get out onto the street safely.”