The Nanny Arrangement (11 page)

Why was he even thinking of flirtations and dalliances at all? They were discussing Juliet and her upbringing, and nothing else.

He gave his head a decisive shake. Time to clear the cobwebs from his mind.

“We do need a plan for Juliet. It sounds as though she has trouble with making changes. No surprise, given how much she’s been through.” He sat in the chair opposite Becky and drew closer. “What kind of changes were you trying to make?”

“Well, I tried putting her to bed on a timely schedule, and feeding her meals on time, too. I tried feeding her more wholesome foods—a nursery diet, you might say. And I tried getting her to go to Sunday school, though that was a total disaster.”

“And you’ve been making new clothes for her,” Paul added.

“I haven’t even tried making her wear them yet.” Becky sat back in her chair. “All of these changes are meant for the best. I haven’t meant to make things worse.”

“No, of course not. And indeed, you are doing your job. Given that Juliet is a miniature of her mother, perhaps I can give a little advice. I had some experience dealing with Juliana, you know. And though I failed her miserably, perhaps we can learn from my mistakes.”

Becky made a sudden movement in her chair, swiveling to face him. She regarded him frankly, honesty shining out of her eyes. “Why do you feel that way?”

Paul hesitated. How much of the truth could he tell her? Not that he didn’t trust her. In fact, he had hired her because, knowing her family and the sterling character each member of it possessed, she would never gossip or violate his privacy. Would she think ill of him? He couldn’t bear to see disappointment reflected in her eyes.

More to the point, would he be able to speak the truth without breaking down entirely? For that would be completely unacceptable.

He cleared his throat. As Juliet’s nursemaid, she did deserve to know something of the truth.

“Suffice it to say that Juliana loved as passionately as she lived. And the man whom she chose for her affections—Juliet’s father—was unworthy of her.” There. That should clear matters up without undue emotional tirades spewing forth.

“I don’t understand. How did you fail her? Surely a woman has a right to fall in love with whomever she chooses. How was her choice of husband your mistake?” She was still looking at him—nay, looking through him—with that frank and uncanny glance of hers.

“I allowed the blackguard into my home. You see, the plan was for Juliana to go to London to study music at a conservatory. After...my fiancée...died, I left Juliana here and went to London myself. I needed to get away, you see. I was gone for four years, only a few return trips to see to matters. When Juliana grew older, rather than send her away, I thought it would be better for her to stay at Kellridge. So I hired Signor Martinelli to come teach her while I indulged my grief.” He swallowed. This was growing to be more than he could bear. More than he had anticipated. She must stop asking questions, or he would lose face altogether.

She shook her head. “I still don’t see why you hold yourself accountable, Paul. I think it’s lovely that she fell in love with her music teacher. They had so much in common. It’s really rather romantic—”

He cut her short with a curt wave of his hand. “There’s nothing romantic about it. And there’s certainly everything to blame me for. I should have been here, supervising matters. Watching everything with a closer eye.” The truth rushed from him, unchecked. “And thanks to my excellent guardianship, Juliet was born only four months after her parents’ wedding.”

“Oh.” Color rushed into Becky’s cheeks and she gazed down at the floor.

He fell silent, as well. He had said too much. Becky was likely horrified by his frankness. One wasn’t supposed to say things like that to young unmarried girls. What had come over him? This was what came of losing control, of failing to maintain his grip on the clockwork precision that governed his life. Had he simply stuck to the matter at hand, things would have been fine.

“I still don’t think it’s your fault.”

Startled, he glanced over at Becky. Though her cheeks were still rosy, she was looking at him with that same candid look—tempered, perhaps, with a sort of sympathy. As he stared, she continued.

“Knowing Juliet as I do, she hates being told what to do. And that’s why we are working with her now, trying to mold her in such a fashion that she can be taught not just right from wrong, but how to govern her impulses and emotions. If that were never checked by anyone, why, Juliet would be a force to be reckoned with as a grown woman. This, I assume, is what happened to Juliana. So, no matter what you said, had she chosen Juliet’s father as her heart’s desire, nothing you would have done could have prevented their relationship. In fact, you would have made matters worse.”

Paul considered her words. ’Twas the first time he’d ever spoken to anyone about it. No one, not even George or his many sisters, knew the depth and breadth of his guilt in the matter. Was there some truth to what Becky said?

“So now, let us turn from whatever has gone by,” she added in a gentle tone. “We must decide what to do with Juliet’s future.”

He was pulled from the past to Becky’s side in the present, her soothing voice keeping his worries and troubles and failures at bay. She was right, of course. They must set a course of action for Juliet. She must have some rules, and some regulations and some schedules. He would not allow the same mistakes to happen again.

“We shall try to implement changes in her routine one at a time. Perhaps she gets overwhelmed if we try to change too much. Let’s start by giving her a regular bed and nap time. If she finally has enough sleep, she might cease in some of these tantrums.”

“I think that is an excellent idea. And then, after two weeks of that, perhaps we could add another change? Like her diet—making her try new foods?” Becky gave a little half smile of encouragement.

“Yes. Precisely. You won’t work on this alone any longer. Though you are her primary caretaker, we shall work together, as a team. We shall draw on my experience with Juliana, and you shall introduce the changes as you see fit. And we can meet once a day to discuss how things have gone and how they are progressing.”

“Oh, Paul, that is brilliant.” Becky clapped her hands and grinned, showing the dimple in her cheek. “I know it will make all the difference in the world.”

Paul smiled in return, his heart warming a little to her good cheer. She was back on first-name terms with him again—a relief indeed. And this was the first time since Ruth died that he had promised any kind of partnership—particularly in the running and management of Kellridge—with anyone besides his estate manager, Parker. It was strange and heartwarming and frightening, all at the same time.

He wasn’t a praying man, of course. But for the first time in ages, he wished he could turn to a higher power for comfort and direction.

Chapter Eleven

O
nce Paul had shown confidence in Becky’s abilities, and had promised to help her make the necessary changes in Juliet’s life, ’twas amazing how much easier her position in the household became. She was now an equal partner in the supervision of one very wild child’s life, rather than the sole manager of her care. Funny how having someone else to turn to could make everything run so much smoother.

Of course, Becky mused as she tugged the cotton nightgown over Juliet’s head, it did no good to become overly optimistic. They still had a great deal of changes to bring about in her charge’s life. Tucking her into bed at a decent hour, and allowing for one nap at midday, had already—only three days in!—made some pleasant changes in Juliet’s behavior.

“Time to say your prayers,” she reminded the child. Another astonishing development—Juliet was quickly picking up the English language. Perhaps her resistance to change had more to do with her inability to understand a word anyone said, rather than a patent refusal to accept a transition of any kind.

Juliet nodded and slipped out of her little bed, kneeling beside Becky on the floor. Becky patted her back, and then began. “First, we thank God for the blessings in our lives. Thank You, Lord! And we pray for those we love—take care of them, Lord. And we pray to become a good little girl in God’s eyes. Amen.”

“’Men.” Juliet gave a decisive nod of her head, her black braid swinging over one shoulder. The braid was yet another change Juliet was getting used to this week—bedtime and braids. Otherwise, Juliet’s hair was nigh on unmanageable.

“Now, off to bed with you. If you behave yourself, we can try going to Sunday school again.” With a deft hand, Becky tucked the covers all around Juliet, swathing her in luxurious warmth. “Good night, little one.” She placed a gentle kiss on Juliet’s forehead.

“Night,” Juliet murmured in return, staring up at Becky with her luminous brown eyes. Then her gaze shifted to a point directly behind and to the right. “Night,” she said again.

Becky turned. Paul lounged against the doorframe, his expression unreadable by the single candle that lit the nursery. He must be here to discuss the day’s progress. Her heart gave a joyful leap in her breast. These visits with Paul were quickly becoming the best part of her day.

“Night,” he replied laconically. “I hope you were good today.” He took a few steps into the bedroom and grasped the candle from the table.

Becky blew a last kiss to her charge and followed the flickering candlelight out of the room to the little parlor where they held their nightly conference.

Paul stooped and placed the candle on the table beside Becky’s chair. “How did things go?”

Becky settled into her chair and took out her workbasket. “Oh, better than usual. Of course, she threw a bit of a tantrum when she was asked to put away her toys and wash her hands before dinner. She seems to hate making these transitions from one activity to another.” She withdrew the lavender gown she’d been working on and smoothed it out on her lap. “Truly, for three days we’ve had excellent progress. She no longer kicks and flails, and I find myself able to make it through the better part of the day without bursting into tears.”

Paul chuckled. “Well, that is always good to hear.”

His laughter brought a smile to her face. Paul was always such jolly company when he was like this—friendly and open, not jokey or distant. She picked up her needle and threaded it. “And how was your day?”

“Oh, I worked with my estate manager, Parker. Making a few improvements to the tools and machinery we have on hand before autumn hits and we become so deeply involved in the harvest.” His mouth twisted in a rueful grin. “I really should bring something to work on when we have these discussions. You make me feel positively lazy.”

“Oh, this is relaxing to me. You know that. A little sewing, especially on a pretty dress like this, is the most comforting thing at the close of the day.” She darted a quick glance up at him. Was he bored? Surely he had better things to do than sit around and talk to her about his charge. In time, when she gained better control of Juliet, would he cease these meetings with her? That would be horrid. If she kept entertaining him, perhaps he would stay. “Tell me, what do you talk with Parker about?”

“Well, we discuss Kellridge, you know. What needs to be done, what improvements should be made. Today we spoke about some business that would take me to London.” He sat in a nearby chair, stretching his booted feet out. “I suppose I should do it sooner rather than later.”

Paul in London? She forced her disappointment back to a reasonable size. Of course Paul would go to London. He’d been threatening to do so ever since she started her position here. Only the carriage accident and her complete incompetence had forced him to stay. And already, the scars on his handsome face were fading, giving him a slightly rakish and even distinguished air. And of course, she was handling Juliet better than before, with his help. So there really would be little reason for him to stay if London beckoned.

That was the way of it. Funny how her throat tightened at the mere prospect of it.

Was this her romantic side creeping back out? Stuff and nonsense. She must gain better control over herself. She couldn’t simply fall all over herself every time a handsome man showed her the slightest bit of interest.

“I am sorry that we were the cause of so many delays on your part.” Her voice sounded strained, even to her own ears. How absurd. She gave a little cough and continued. “I know you have a great many important things tying you to London.”

“Ah, well. London can wait a bit longer. Kellridge is always my first priority. So it has been since I was a mere stripling.” He twitched his booted feet back and forth. “So no need for apologies.”

He cast a warm smile her way once more and fell silent.

Becky concentrated on a difficult stitch to hide her ruffled feelings, which surely must be writ plain across her face. She never was any good at hiding her emotions, and Susannah could always tell if they’d been up to mischief as children simply by staring into her eyes. So she must keep her head down for a moment. What did it matter to her if Kellridge, and not his niece, was his first priority? And was he implying that she had brought chaos to Kellridge? For it was not so; his tiny little tyrant of a niece had done that herself.

“I think I shall try, once more, to take Juliet to Sunday school,” she ventured after a pause. “She needs to meet other children, and as we discussed, as a proper young girl she must begin learning about the Lord even at her young age. My hope is that, since we are establishing some small changes in her life, I can start this anew as well.”

Paul made an impatient movement in his chair—one completely out of keeping with his indolent pose and his carefree way of speaking. She glanced over at him. His handsome face had hardened somewhat, and something flickered in the depths of his brown eyes. He merely nodded. “Of course.”

The door to the parlor creaked open and the distinct pitter-patter of bare feet broke the sudden awkward silence. “Juliet, why are you out of bed?” Becky fixed her charge with a stern glare.

Juliet sidled toward her uncle, keeping her large eyes fixed on Becky. Her rosy lips remained pursed tightly, as though she were keeping a secret all to herself.

“Do you need a drink of water?” That was the usual excuse for a bedtime visit.

Juliet shook her head and shuffled closer to Paul.

“Did you have a nightmare?” She had, once or twice, dreamed of her mama. Perhaps that happened again.

Juliet shook her head again, sending her braid swinging back and forth. Becky sighed. “Then why, pray tell, are you out of bed? You know it is past your bedtime.”

Juliet placed her small hand on Paul’s sleeve. Becky eyed them both, wariness building within her. What game was her charge playing at? Just because Paul had grown to tolerate them, and agreed to help manage her, didn’t mean that he would encourage familiarity.

“You come, too.” It wasn’t a question, but a demand made with the kind of firmness that would serve Juliet well some day, when she had servants and a home to run.

Paul’s forehead wrinkled and he shook his head. “Whatever are you talking about, child?”

Juliet remained fixed in her position, her hand resting on his sleeve. She swiveled her head toward Becky. “Sunday.”

For a moment, ’twas rather akin to putting together an odd jumble of puzzle pieces, trying to sort out what went where. “Do you mean...are you asking...do you want your uncle to come with us to Sunday school?”

Juliet gave a decided nod of her head. “Yes.”

“Oh.” One could almost pity Paul, caught as he was between a child’s demand and his own resolute and unchanging mind. Indeed, Becky fought back a chuckle at the astounded look on Paul’s face. “Oh, well. I don’t usually go to Sunday school. It’s not my forte.”

Juliet folded her arms across her chest and faced Becky squarely. Stubbornness and determination creased her brow. “Me, too.”

“Oh, now, wait. You certainly shall go to Sunday school if Miss Becky decrees it. Once you are an adult, then you can make your own choices.” Paul settled back in his chair as though the matter were finished. “Go back to bed then.”

“No.” Juliet stamped her foot. “Not my...fornay.”

Well, in a matter of moments, there would be a conflagration. That would likely mean that it would take another hour for her to calm down and then fall to sleep—and then, her sleep schedule would be completely thrown off. “Now, Juliet,” she pleaded in her most reasonable tone, “your uncle is master here. The decisions he makes are good for everyone. If he says you must go, then you must come with me. It will be fun, you’ll see. Lots of other children to play with.”

“No.” Louder now, and more demanding.

Paul sat back in his chair. “Is this what you have been dealing with on a daily basis?”

Becky stifled a grin. Now Paul was getting a fairly good taste of a truly Juliet-esque temper tantrum. “Oh, no, sir. I’ve witnessed much worse.”

“To think I would be hounded by a female in my own home about my lack of religious dedication,” he grumbled. “Fine. If it makes peace in Kellridge and means you’ll go to bed on time, then I shall go, too.”

Becky shook her head. Amazing. One small child had already convinced Paul to improve his life for the better. Something no adult had been able to do. “Off to bed, now. You heard your uncle.”

Juliet gave Paul a winning grin and then skipped back to her little bed. The squeak of the mattress ropes announced that she had, indeed, flung herself down. Hopefully, she would fall asleep within a quarter of an hour.

Had the meticulous standards of Kellridge, and their own pressing needs to fit Juliet into a routine schedule, been preserved? Yes, but at what cost? She dared not look at Paul’s face. In a way it was rather touching, and even a little funny.

She simply could not shake the feeling that something rather extraordinary had just occurred.

* * *

So he had given in to his ward’s wishes. What of it? Paul sat back in his chair. He was the master of Kellridge, and if he chose to go to a simple Bible lesson to maintain peace in his home, so be it. There was no need to feel so ruffled in spirit.

He cast about for something to say. “So...your sister Susannah, these Bible studies are her idea?”

“Well, they came about after Daniel restored the chapel at Goodwin for her wedding present. You know how hard he had to work to bring Goodwin up to some kind of standards. Things were much, much worse than Kellridge could ever be. I believe the Bible studies keep them grounded and also contribute to a feeling of community in their home.” Becky looked up from her sewing, a gentle, teasing light in her eyes. “You need not fear it.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I don’t fear Bible study.” Nothing would change because of it. He was still his own man, and master at Kellridge. No, indeed. He could go and be present, and thus set Juliet’s mind at peace. Of course he wouldn’t have to listen to the sermon, or believe anything he read. And he had a few more days to prepare himself for it, to assume the mask of casual indifference that he wore whenever anything that meant passion, or love, or depth of feeling presented itself. “If it means that she will go and not throw another tantrum, then I shall go through with it. A good general knows which battles to fight. He sizes up the situation and chooses where he shall spend his energy. That is all I have done.”

Becky smiled, that winsome smile that seemed to signify her secret delight. “You are a good master, and a better strategist. Indeed, I am most grateful that you have chosen to help me in this fight to make Juliet a proper little lady. Your sacrifice is duly noted.”

The flattery warmed his heart a trifle, but who was she to mock him? Becky Siddons—that little milliner whom he’d always teased in days gone past. His old mischievousness rose to the fore. If she’d been wearing a hair ribbon, he would have pulled it.

“Watch your tongue, miss, or I shall depart for London straight away and leave you at the mercy of my niece,” he chided. “Or I shall tell Susannah that you are a dreadful nursemaid and send you home.”

All the color drained from Becky’s cheeks. “Do you mean it?” Her voice had a strangled quality to it. “Am I so awful?”

“No, no. Of course not.” There he’d gone again, teasing too hard. When would he learn to rein himself in? “As I said before, I trust you implicitly. That’s why I told you the truth about Juliana and Signor Martinelli.”

“It’s my greatest fear, you know. Being a failure. That’s why I fell apart the other day when Juliet spilled the ink. I’d like to know that I have a purpose. That I shan’t just fade into the background, or be bossed around by my sisters forevermore.” She sighed, pursing her trembling lips. “I do so want to have a calling. And to answer that calling.”

Paul nodded, keeping silent for a moment. She took this position so seriously. She believed divine intervention had brought her here. He had no right to tease her so mercilessly when she was working so hard and with so few resources. All he’d done was offer her the kind of support anyone should have, when faced with a daunting challenge. And what he should do was follow that support with praise, no matter how much he wanted to tease her.