The Mistress of Tall Acre (8 page)

Forcing the memory away, he took in the crates scattered about the masculine room. “You look . . . busy.”

“I’m cleaning out the study before Curtis returns.” She picked up a feather duster and ran it lightly over a thick dictionary. “This will be his now as my father isn’t coming back.”

“It could be yours, as mistress of Three Chimneys.” Her dismayed gaze turned his way. “I only meant you seem quite capable, Miss Menzies.”

“I may be good with little girls, but I know little about managing an estate, General.”

“You could learn.”

“Oh? You weren’t very encouraging about my silk production plans, as I recall.” She resumed dusting with a vengeance, making him mentally kick himself for the thoughtless remark. “At this point I simply want my brother back. Nothing more.”

He took a last look at a small marble bust of George II lying on the floor beside a dusty stack of old ledgers. Everything British looked to be on its way out. She even had a small Patriot flag flying from a pewter tankard atop the massive desk. There was little doubt where her loyalties lay.

“As it stands, Three Chimneys could never be mine by law,” she said quietly. “’Tis a man’s domain. My brother’s. My future husband’s.”

His gaze swiveled back to her. “Are you . . . betrothed?”

The forthright question seemed to shake her. He watched her color climb to crimson before she murmured, “Hardly that.”

He took a step back, thinking it a fine time to exit. “Day after tomorrow,” he said, remembering Lily Cate.

“Thank you,” she replied as if he’d done her some special favor. Looking up from her dusting, she added thoughtfully, “Thank you for entrusting her to me. ’Tis far sweeter than the sugar you sent.”

“Small recompense, Miss Menzies.” With that, he put on his hat and turned away.

Lily Cate arrived as planned, hugging Sophie so tightly it seemed she’d never let go. Kneeling on the morning room carpet, Sophie shut her eyes, savoring the moment. Had she ever embraced her father in this way? With boundless joy and affection? Would she in time?

Lily Cate shook free of her cape and left it in a little puddle on the rug, her expectant expression dimming a bit. “Papa has gone away . . .” She leaned nearer as if it was a secret, her breath smelling of peppermint. “To get a bride.”

Sophie drew back, lips parting, almost missing the fact she’d called him Papa. “A bride?”

Lily Cate nodded, her bonnet bobbing atop her head. Sophie began untying her chin ribbons, breathless with surprise. “Well, I wish him the best.”

“Florie told me.”

Sophie set the bonnet aside. “Florie . . . your housemaid?”

Lily Cate whispered yes, fingering the lace of Sophie’s fichu. “Florie knows everything. She dusts Papa’s study and reads his letters.”

A cold, sick sinking spread to her breast where the general’s note still rested. “So Tall Acre is to have a new mistress then.” Lily Cate was looking at her, a hundred questions in her eyes. As if she needed comfort. Reassurance about this stepmother-to-be.

Sophie dredged up more words as all the implications rushed in. “Well, I’m sure she’ll be good and kind . . .” And beautiful. Accomplished. Wealthy. She took a breath, her newfound happiness dwindling. Couldn’t she feel even a glimmer of gladness? Tall Acre needed a mistress, the general a wife, Lily Cate a mother.

Glynnis appeared just then, a wide, satisfied smile creasing her face. “The general’s sent over two hams from Tall Acre’s smokehouse and a sack of Portuguese salt.”

Sophie nearly sighed. Glynnis best not get used to special treatment once a new mistress was installed at Tall Acre. Great changes were afoot, the least being their brimming larder. Had Glynnis heard any news? Likely not. Her glee was too great.

Taking Lily Cate’s face between her hands, Sophie spoke past a numbing ache. “I’m glad you are calling him Papa
.
”

“I don’t say it with him, only with you.”

Oh? The realization was bittersweet. She’d never called her own father anything but
sir
. Perhaps Lily Cate would warm to
Papa
in time
.
“What shall we do first? Go for a walk, read a book? We can even make a picture as I have my old paints.”

“All of it, please.”

Sophie managed a smile, gladdened by the scent of tea cakes wafting from the kitchen. “I’ll set everything up in the garden while you have a sweet with Glynnis.”

Once Lily Cate and Glynnis padded down the hall, Sophie stepped nearer the hearth. Though the first fire of late fall glowed golden in the grate—thanks be to Henry who’d gathered some sticks—it hardly took the chill off the room. She shut her eyes, still reeling from the news. What was the general like in love? Tender? Attentive? Gallant? Or was he marrying this woman out of necessity?

She withdrew his note from her bodice and fed it to the flames, pained that a bit of paper and ink meant so much to her. ’Twas folly at her age to be even slightly enamored of a note, a man, a wee girl not hers. A bride for Tall Acre had done the trick.

Now to convince her feelings to fall in line.

6

S
eamus had disliked Richard Fitzhugh from the first day he’d met him. He hated him now. Standing in the formal parlor of the Fitzhughs’ grand Williamsburg townhouse, they faced each other, Anne’s sister between them. Charlotte, with her corn-silk hair and hazel eyes, looked enough like Anne to be her twin, and the resemblance grated. But Charlotte was even more conniving and was likely the reason he was in this predicament to begin with.

Fitzhugh was not fond of children, and they were childless, something Charlotte found untenable but Seamus found fitting. He knew it was more Charlotte’s need of Lily Cate that had him cornered here. They’d always treated his daughter oddly, kind and cruel by turns, or so he’d heard, saying things no child should hear and Seamus feared couldn’t be undone. He’d never trusted them. He didn’t trust them now.

His gaze wandered to the gaudily papered walls, a heavy gold and verdigris, so unlike his own serene blues and greens at Tall Acre. Everything felt oppressive, almost nauseating. Or mayhap it was only the ill feeling threading the room.

Charlotte barely glanced at him, intent on the ribbon embellishment of her sleeve. “General, I hope your trip from Tall Acre was uneventful.”

Spare me the platitudes
, he almost said. This was hardly a social call. “I received your summons. Now what is it that you want from me?”

Fitzhugh took control, stony-faced and powdered like the judge he was. “Let us get down to business straightaway. Regrettably, our legal counsel isn’t present but will be if the matter isn’t resolved to our satisfaction.”

“I doubt it will be,” Seamus replied, not meaning to be inflammatory, just truthful.

Charlotte was regarding him in apprehension now as if he might take out a weapon and threaten them. But he wasn’t in uniform nor was he carrying so much as a simple pistol.

The judge cleared his throat. “You’re well aware we want Anne’s daughter returned immediately.”

“I’m well aware you have no right to demand her return given I’m her father.”

“General, need I remind you that you came here a month ago and took the poor child by force—”

Seamus went cold. “Only because you refused to let me see her. Explain that to your legal counsel.”

“Gentlemen, please.” Charlotte’s face turned beseeching, though it barely masked the hardness beneath. “We’re mostly concerned that Lily Cate is without a mother. You’re well aware I’m the closest female relation the child has.”

“You forget my sister. In Philadelphia.”

“Ah, Cosima, yes. But Philadelphia is a world away.
We
were the ones who took Lily Cate in while Anne was dying and you were on the field.
We
are the most familiar. I can only imagine how terrified the child must be living with you, a virtual stranger, in a strange house with a strange staff.”

“You yourselves were once strange to her.” Seamus pointed out the obvious, but she simply stared at him blankly before Fitzhugh intervened.

“None of that matters.” He clutched a paper in a ringed hand, shaking it as if it held some significance. “Here we have the guardianship document that Anne signed—”

“Anne?” The heated word shot across the room like musket fire. “Anne had no right.” Ire gained the upper hand, making his reply tight and breathless. “Anne is dead while I, Lily Cate’s father, am very much alive and making a home for her as best I can.”

“Alive—and alone.” Fitzhugh let the paper drop. “You cannot provide the care Anne’s daughter needs, but we can. I’m confident the courts will agree. My legal counsel is preparing paperwork to that effect as we speak. ’Tis only a matter of time before the child is in our care again.”

Charlotte took out a fan and flicked it open with a twist of her wrist. “You might have brought her with you, General, to visit us for an afternoon while you go about your Williamsburg business.”

“I considered it, but given your disagreeable stance, I thought it wiser to keep her at home.”

Disgust marred Fitzhugh’s face. “
Home
is hardly the term for it. You live in a remote location devoid of civilized pursuits. Anne detested country life and thought it better Lily Cate be raised in a genteel town like Williamsburg.”

Though Seamus tried to stay stalwart, the words slashed deep. He knew Anne had preferred life in town, but hearing it from the judge so bitterly was something he’d not soon forget. His heart, so torn throughout the war years by myriad things beyond his control, fractured anew. He wanted to sit down peaceably and discuss what was best for Lily Cate, arrange for her to spend time in Williamsburg or open Tall Acre to the Fitzhughs as guests. But there was no peace, no reconciliation, to be had in this parlor.

Charlotte snapped her fan shut. “Most men would be glad to relinquish the burden of a daughter’s care to relatives.”

“I am not ‘most men.’”

“Indeed.” Charlotte was almost pouting. “Our primary concern at this impasse is that you have no wife, no mother for Anne’s daughter. If this was a boy, we wouldn’t be so concerned. But a girl needs a woman’s influence—”

“I’m about to secure a governess,” Seamus interrupted, returning his hat to his head and putting an end to her weary refrain. “Every concern you have is unfounded. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m needed elsewhere.”

Since Lily Cate had set foot at Three Chimneys five days before, she and Sophie had played and napped, taken tea, rearranged the dollhouse, and even sewn some new garments for the doll Sophie. A mobcap and fichu now graced her person, and a tiny folded fan made of gilt paper and lace adorned her wax hands. But most importantly, Lily Cate had begun to learn her letters.

“A . . . B . . . C . . .” They made a game and a song of it, wrote the alphabet with stylus and slate, and by week’s end Lily Cate could pen her name.
Ogilvy
proved rather difficult, but even her Christian name was deemed quite an accomplishment.

Sophie hadn’t forgotten the general’s request for a governess. To that end, a post to Mrs. Hallam lay unfinished on her desk, sparking new questions. Was the general a progressive man? Valuing education for females? Or did he simply want Lily Cate occupied so she wouldn’t be a bother? Sophie longed to give him the benefit of the doubt.