The Nanny Arrangement (13 page)

“Well, I don’t have much that’s clever to say about it,” Becky admitted. “Only that I truly enjoy this passage from the book of John.
‘Without me ye can do nothing.’
I find it comforting.”

Paul bit back a bitter laugh that surged up out of nowhere. “To me it sounds like the Lord is rather taking too much upon Himself.”

Becky sat back in her seat with a defeated air. “I knew you would find this offensive. Shall we discuss something else instead?”

This time Paul couldn’t suppress the laugh, but it wasn’t a bitter one. Becky could be genuinely amusing. The sound of his mirth brought quick, seeking glances from those gathered at the altar, but he merely gave them a little wave. No need to be startled, gentle folk.

“Hark now, Becky-girl, a debate occurs when two opposing parties have a good thrashing out. Would you prefer that I simper and tell you pretty little fibs, and agree with everything you say?”

“’Twould be a sight pleasanter if you did,” Becky muttered.

Paul grinned. “That wouldn’t be a debate. It would be flattering and almost coy, but not a debate. Now tell me, in truth, why you find this passage comforting.”

“Well...”

“Go on. I promise not to laugh.” It was no fun to offend Becky. He just wanted to engage her. She was such stimulating company when she connected to him. The only way he could forge that connection to her, it seemed, was through argument or teasing. There had to be another way.

“Very well.” Becky turned in her seat, fixing her eyes on him in a manner that a lesser fellow might find exhilarating. “You see, when Papa and Mama died, we stayed with Uncle Arthur. His household was vastly unpleasant, I can assure you. Despite the hardships we endured, my sisters and I remained constant in our faith and took care of one another because we trusted that the Lord had a place for us, and a lesson to teach us.”

Yes, he had heard rumors about their time with their uncle Arthur. In fact, he’d met their uncle, and fleeced him at cards, many a time. “May I ask what lessons you learned?”

“That a life of dissolution corrupts more than just oneself. Though my uncle was the one who drank and played cards, he did so with our money. And his actions brought shame and dishonesty to his entire house. We learned that everything we do touches another person. Our actions affect everyone. And that simple lesson had a profound influence on how we would order our lives.” She sat back, as though abashed by all she said. “So there you have it.”

Paul ruminated on her words in silence. There really wasn’t much to say. She had been through a difficult time, and it had transformed her. That was a common enough experience, wasn’t it? After all, Ruth’s death had changed him.

He turned off his thoughts with a snap. “Well, that is a thoughtful response,” he admitted. “I must say, though, that you haven’t precisely tied it to the verse.”

Becky turned back to him, the light of challenge showing in the tilt of her chin. “Well, then. Apart from Him, I can do nothing at Kellridge. All I do for Juliet—it’s—it’s a calling, you see.” She stumbled over her last words and her cheeks turned a becoming shade of pink.

“By that measure, then I should consider that my life at Kellridge is ordered by the Lord, too. That everything I do is because of Him.” What a fantastic, and troubling, thought.

Becky gave a quick, decisive nod of her head. “Precisely so.” Then she fell silent.

The crowd broke up, and Susannah and Nan returned to the pew. Daniel directed the discussion from the altar, a most lively debate that nearly everyone in the room took up.

Everyone save him and Becky.

If he were to believe the verse, then he must surrender control to a higher power. He must believe that he could do nothing without the Lord, which was an altogether new experience and manner of thinking. He’d never thought of God as a being that gave, only as one that took away. His faith had tottered for some time, to be sure, but after He took Ruth and Juliana, Paul had no more use for any such “higher power.”

If God gave as well as took away, if everything done in life was done through Him...why, that was a revelation.

God had given him many things. Kellridge. Good friends. A large family of brothers and sisters who hardly visited but loved him just the same. Vast material wealth. And even good health. He touched the scar that zigzagged his cheek. He could have been hurt much, much worse in that carriage accident, yet it never occurred to him to be grateful ere now.

God had even given him Juliana back, in a way, in the form of his rebellious, troublesome, but altogether sweet niece. His charge. His responsibility.

God had sent him a loving, caring nursemaid who stood up to him and sought out the best for her charge, despite his hesitations.

This was hard. Paul shook his head to clear his thoughts. ’Twas rather like learning Latin and finally being able to read the
Aeneid
in Virgil’s mother tongue. From gibberish to clarity.

An entirely new world, one filled with questions and discoveries and answers was opening to him, if he would only push through the threshold.

Chapter Thirteen

“I
f you’ll pardon me, sir,” Parker interrupted with a polite cough. “We need to discuss your impending trip to town.”

Paul jerked back to reality. The vistas of possibility still beckoned, even as one went about his daily routine. The strange feeling that had overcome him in the chapel the previous day still clung, like a dream that would not let him go once he awakened. Even so, he needed to pay heed to Parker. He must not get wrapped up in philosophical and religious questions to the point that he was absent from his duties.

“Yes. London.” He heaved a sigh. Somehow, travel had lost all its glamour. “So we have a new buyer for my shipping shares, then? Not that fellow Jacob Gail, I hope. That parvenu spends his money like water even as he apes at being an ordinary chap in the House of Commons. George warned me of him. Rumor has it that Gail illegally traffics in slaves. You know how my father felt about that, and I uphold that standard as well.”

“No, this is a different fellow, by the name of Smith.” Parker straightened in his seat. “Willing to take all your shares and at the price you dictated.”

“Well, I do think it better to sell. I’ve been overseeing things from afar for too long, and as you know, my family has remained steadfast in precisely managing our shares. Knowing each passenger, the cargo and so forth. I have too much to attend to here. Are you certain he’s willing to meet my price? I won’t sell it for a farthing less, you know.” Paul rocked back in his chair and clasped his hands behind his head. Something about this business did not set him at ease. Gail had backed off too hurriedly when Paul had turned him away. The speed with which a new seller had appeared—and one willing to meet his terms, too—was rather uncanny.

“Indeed, Mr. Smith has agreed to your terms. I don’t know much of him, but if you would prefer, I can travel to London in your stead to oversee matters.”

“No, indeed. I shall deal with the matter myself.” He wanted to see who this mysterious Mr. Smith might be.

“Shall I send the word then? Will you be in London soon?” Parker gave him an expectant glance over the top of his spectacles.

Paul hesitated for a brief moment. Going to London meant leaving Kellridge behind, and with it, Becky and Juliet. A week or so ago he would have leaped at this chance. In fact, he’d done his carriage—not to mention his face—a grave disservice by rushing off as he did to avoid the very beings who now beckoned him to stay. And yet, business was business. Assuming this offer was authentic, he could net the kind of profit that would allow him to do just as he pleased for the rest of his life.

Surely that was worth a quick jaunt to London. Becky could manage very well on her own, couldn’t she?

“Yes. Send word to this Smith fellow at once. I shall leave on the morrow, for the carriage is finally repaired.” Paul glanced over at the mantel clock. ’Twas seven o’clock. Becky would be upstairs, readying Juliet for bed. If he didn’t end this interview, he would be late for his meeting with her. “Is that all?” He employed the brisk tone he used whenever he was ready to be done with any matter of business.

“Yes sir. I shall tell your solicitor to expect you in a few days’ time. Godspeed.” Parker gathered the sheets of foolscap and the ledger book he always brought to their meetings, and with a respectful bow, quit the room.

Paul ran his thumbnail over the blotter on his desk. Somehow, the prospect of telling Becky that he was leaving was rather daunting, yet this wasn’t a task he could put off.

He wasn’t afraid of telling her. Not really. Yet, somehow, the thought of seeing disappointment reflected in those lovely eyes of hers...and what if she grew overwhelmed with her charge while he was gone? Suppose she had enough and quit while he was in London? Any other servant would be replaceable. In the space of a few weeks, Becky Siddons had become indispensable to him and to Kellridge Hall.

Besides, he had given his word that he would help her. He couldn’t very well go back on his word now.

There was nothing to do but to go through with it, unpleasant though it might be. Paul stood and stretched. He needed to give instructions to his man to have his trunks packed. Though he needn’t worry about packing clothes for London. He had plenty enough at the townhome in Grosvenor Square.

He took the stairs two at a time and knocked gently at the nursery sitting-room door. Becky opened it, her finger to her lips. “She’s already fallen asleep,” she murmured.

“Excellent. So no more getting in and out of bed a dozen times before falling asleep.” Paul entered the room and closed the door behind him. “That is progress.”

“Well, it’s progress for now. We shall see if it lasts.” Becky settled into her familiar comfortable chair and pulled out her sewing. He’d rarely seen her without some bit of needlework in her hands, usually for the benefit of his niece. ’Twas nice to see Becky always working to improve things for his charge.

He could remark upon that at length, but while it was a cheerful topic of discussion, he really did need to tell her about London. And that strange, foggy feeling wouldn’t leave him. ’Twas almost pulling him back, as it were, holding him fast. If one believed in God, what would Paul’s purpose in this life be? Could he really do everything without a higher power overseeing his every movement?

He gave his head a decided shake. Enough.

“I am afraid I am bound for London on the morrow.” There, out with it. Be as blunt as possible, and state the facts squarely. “There’s a pressing matter of business I can no longer delay.”

Becky looked up from her sewing, her eyes widened. “Of—of course.” She paid elaborate attention to the needle she’d been threading. “How long will you be gone?”

“Originally I had intended to stay the entire season, but...” He lapsed into silence. Did Becky’s hand usually tremble that much when she sewed? Surely not. She was so deft with a needle. She was upset, and rightly so. After all, he had given his word that he would help with Juliet, at least until she was well in hand.

“Well, I wish you a safe journey,” she rejoined, her entire being focused on the little nightgown she was stitching. “You should travel a sight slower this time. Don’t break yet another axle.” Her tone was jesting, but the frown that creased her forehead spoke volumes. Becky was not pleased.

He gave an appreciative chuckle. “You’ll be all right then? Juliet seems calmer now. You’ve made great strides with her this week. A proper nap time, a proper bedtime and Sunday school.” Really, he was reassuring himself as much as he was praising her. It would be all right, this once, to break his word.

“Yes, she has improved a great deal.” Becky said nothing more.

They sat in silence for a while. ’Twas rather unnerving. Usually they thrashed out their plans for Juliet for the next day, the next week. And they would talk and jest about the day’s activities. He’d come to genuinely enjoy this time with Becky. Their chats were such a pleasant and stimulating way to end the day.

If he were in London, he would miss that, too.

The ticking of the clock on the mantel grew more annoying with every passing second. He had to do something, anything to make this trip to London right.

“I don’t suppose...you’d like to come along?” He drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair to deafen the ticking of the clock. “You and Juliet, of course,” he amended. Though it scarcely needed to be said, if one considered their situation.

“Come along? To London?” Becky clasped the nightgown to her chest and gave a tentative smile. “Are you certain?”

“Well, why not?” Now that he made the decision, it made jolly good sense. Why hadn’t he thought of it before? “You can entertain Juliet with all the sights of London, and enjoy a few of them yourself. Have you ever been before?”

“No, never. Matlock Bath is as far as I have ever journeyed.” Two bright spots of color appeared on her cheeks, a most becoming shade of pink. “Are you quite sure? Traveling, even just from Cleethorpes, with Juliet was rather an ordeal.”

“It’s an ordeal we shall suffer cheerfully together.” He rubbed his hands together with a brisk gesture. He was in control of the situation once more, putting things in order just as he should. “Juliet will need to grow accustomed to travel, for when she gets older, she will need to be in town for the season. Better to start her young, you know.”

“What a wonderful idea. If you are really certain that all will be well, then I think it a perfect plan.” Becky folded the night dress and placed it back in her sewing box. “I must begin packing. Indeed, I don’t know how I shall sleep, I am so excited.”

“I shall leave you to it.” Joy fairly sang through his body. He’d kept his word and made Becky happy, too. And the journey—though, of course, Juliet was sure to be trying—didn’t seem half as arduous now. As a matter of fact, the prospect of showing off London to someone who hadn’t seen it, who had never had the chance to grow jaded and blasé about it, held special appeal. “We shall leave shortly after breakfast tomorrow.”

Becky gave him a luminous grin, one that showed the dimple in her cheek and caused his heart to flutter strangely in his chest. “We shall be ready, I promise,” she vowed.

He rose from his chair and gave her a courtly bow. “Until the morning, then.”

She nodded, her eyes shining like amethysts, as he quit the room. The cobwebby feeling dissipated the moment he left. This was the right choice, the perfect plan for keeping his word. Better still, it meant Becky would be with him in London all the time, with her charming smile and guileless manner.

Not that that mattered, of course. She was his niece’s nursemaid, nothing more.

But it was pleasant indeed to think upon.

* * *

As soon as Paul closed the sitting room door, Becky danced around with glee. She was going to London! Never, not in all her life, had she dreamed she would travel so far. Certainly not after Papa and Mama passed away. Why, a whole new world had opened before her this very night. She would have the chance to take Juliet to all of the sights. Even a stroll along the streets would be a grand occasion.

She must get to work at once. There was so much to be done to ready herself before the morning.

She pulled the bell rope. Surely Juliet’s trunks were still located somewhere in the many nooks and crannies at Kellridge. And her own modest trunk was tucked underneath her bed. She could pull that one out herself and set about packing right away.

She passed from the sitting room into her bedroom, and kneeling on the rug, found the handle of her trunk. With a mighty jerk, she pulled it out from beneath the bed.

“Oh, don’t try to do that alone, miss.” Her maid, Kate, spoke up from behind her.

“Oh, it’s no bother, really. It’s quite light.” Becky blew a wayward strand of hair out of her eyes and sat upon the trunk. “I rang to see if you or anyone else knows where Miss Juliet’s trunks ended up. I need them.”

“I am sure they were placed in the attic. Mrs. C. usually stows the luggage up there.” Kate stared at Becky, her forehead wrinkled with something like concern. “Why do you ask? Are you going anywhere?”

“Yes. Mr. Holmes wishes to take his niece with him to London on the morrow. I’ve only just learnt about it. And so I must pack our things in a hurry so we may be ready when he is in the morning.” Becky shrugged. There was always the possibility that she might awaken Juliet once she started packing, much less moving trunks around. How could she manage this quietly?

“If you could make arrangements to have Miss Juliet’s trunk sent down in the morning, I will gather all her things tonight.” That really was the best solution to the problem. “And that way, we shan’t be late, and I won’t run the risk of awakening her. Of course, I’ll pack my own right now.”

“Yes, miss,” Kate murmured. Then, assuming a confidential air, she leaned forward. “Are you quite sure that Mr. Holmes wants you and Miss Juliet to stay with him in town? In his townhome in Grosvenor Square?”

“I don’t know where his home in town is located, but yes. I am certain that he wants us both to be there with him.” Funny, her giddiness only increased as she spoke those words. Staying with Paul rather than having Paul leave them behind was such a vastly superior change of plans. Not that she would miss him so much, of course, but just that his help had been so wonderful these past few days. If they were making strides with Juliet, it must be in good part because they worked so well together.

“I don’t want to speak out of turn.” Kate’s stern tone made all her happiness evaporate into thin air. “You should know that the way in which Mr. Holmes conducts himself in London is different from the manner in which he behaves at home.”

“Surely you’re not gossiping, Kate.” Becky arched one eyebrow. Coldness began to settle at the pit of her stomach.

“No, I am not a gossip. But as one who has been in service longer than you, I think it wise to inform you.” Kate knelt on the rug before Becky, twisting her hands in her lap. “Mr. Holmes is the best master Kellridge has ever possessed, to be sure. His life in London makes up for his sober attitude here at home. I only know this because one of my sisters works for him in London, and she told me the tales.”

“Why are you telling me this? I am merely assisting him with his charge.” The coldness spread to her hands, and she suppressed a shiver.

“Well, I think you should know for two reasons. First, you should make sure that Miss Juliet is not ever aware of the nature of the things Mr. Holmes does in London, particularly if you are making her into a fine young British girl.”

“I highly doubt he would behave in such a fashion before his niece,” Becky bit the words out. Of course Paul would never do anything untoward where his niece might be watching. She had only known him a brief time, to be sure, but he’d never impressed her as another Uncle Arthur. He was, perhaps, too much of a tease and could be too rigid in the rules he set, but he never behaved improperly before a lady, not to her knowledge.

“Please don’t be offended, miss. It’s just that you are so new to service, and being that your family has been friendly with the master for some time, perhaps you don’t see things as another servant would.” Kate tugged at a fraying bit of the rug, keeping her eyes cast down. “All I can tell you is that Mr. Holmes takes his responsibilities as master here quite seriously. He is one of the best masters in the county. When he goes to London, he has the chance to play, and he does play rather hard.”