The Perfect Waltz (16 page)

“Look. There’s a crowd gathering. I wonder what it is?” Grace exclaimed, catching Cassie’s hand in hers. Cassie glanced around, grabbed Dorie, and the three of them ran off. James handed Lily the jug, saying to Hope, “I’ll go with them, miss,” but Mr. Reyne was before him.

“I’ll fetch them,” he announced. “They ought to know better than to run off like that!” He strode grimly off.

Faith caught her eye. “It’s as if he’s afraid of letting them out from under his thumb.”

Hope’s heart sank, knowing there was a worrying degree of truth in the statement. The Merridew girls knew all about men who needed to keep little girls firmly under their thumb.

Faith said quietly, “Do you think he beats his sisters the way Grandpapa used to beat us?”

“Hush, Faith! We know nothing about him, and it is not right to speculate. Besides, I don’t believe Mr. Reyne is at all like Grandpapa! In anything except physique.” She couldn’t imagine Grandpapa riding to save someone the way Mr. Reyne had tried to rescue her from her so-called runaway horse. That morning, Mr. Reyne had been gentle and protective. Such words were not even in Grandpapa’s vocabulary.

“You cannot deny there is something wrong with those girls.”

“Yes, but we cannot know he is the cause.”

Her sister looked at her thoughtfully. Hope knew what she was thinking. She was defending him too forcefully for someone who did not care. She fought a rising blush and said mildly, “I said we would find out more about the girls, and we shall. On our way back, you talk to Cassie, and I will talk to Mr. Reyne.”

“Wouldn’t you rather
I
talked to Mr. Reyne?” Faith suggested gently.

Hope did blush then. “No, it’s all right. I will.”

Mr. Reyne returned, shepherding the girls in front of him. He looked angry and frustrated, Cassie and Grace looked mutinous, but Dorie’s face was still and blank.

It was a terrible look: it reminded Hope of her twin in the days when they lived in Norfolk, when Grandpapa was in a rage. Faith used to go still and silent and shrink into herself, making herself as small and insignificant as possible in order not to attract Grandpapa’s attention, Grandpapa’s violence.

Dorie looked like that just now. And her brother was angry.

Hope couldn’t bear it. She hurried forward and took each of the Reyne girls by the hand. “I have thought of something delightful! We shall all go to Gunter’s for an ice! What do you think of that?” It was far too early to be thinking of an ice, but she was desperate to put a happy look back on that child’s face.

He said curtly, “Thank you, no. I have just recalled I have an engagement in an less than half an hour. Business. Important business. My sisters and I need to return home directly. I’m sorry if it inconveniences you, but I had not planned to spend the whole morning in idle pleasure seeking.”

Hope blinked. “Idle pleasure seeking? A walk in the park and a cup of fresh milk is hardly dissipation.”

His stern visage softened. “No, you are right. That cup of milk . . . I am most grateful, Miss Hope, Miss Faith, Miss Grace.” He bowed to each of them with stiff precision. “Nevertheless, we must return immediately. I intend to hire a hackney cab to convey us home. May I offer you a lift?”

Mindful of the plan to discover the reason for the girls’ behavior, Hope was about to accept when Faith said instead, “Thank you, no. We prefer to walk.”

“Very well then. Good-bye, ladies. Make your curtsy, girls.”

The girls curtsied, and Cassie thanked them very prettily for the outing. As she watched the threesome walk briskly toward the nearest exit, it suddenly occurred to Hope that she’d never seen Sebastian Reyne touch his sisters in public. Except for that time he’d pulled Cassie from the water, he never held them by the hand or walked with their arm tucked into his. He didn’t so much as pat them on the head.

Grandpapa had never touched his granddaughters, either. Except to beat them.

She watched them go, torn by conflicting feelings.

“Come on, Hope, let’s go home,” Faith said quietly.

“We don’t know anything—not for certain,” Hope said quickly. Faith had not voiced the accusation, but she knew what her twin was thinking.

“No, we have no proof.”

 
Twenty minutes later, as they walked home in silence, an elegant green and black curricle passed them in the street. Mr. Reyne was driving. A liveried footman clung on behind. Beside Mr. Reyne sat Lady Elinore Whitelaw.

They watched the curricle turn the corner. “His important business engagement,” Faith remarked. “I wonder, does she know he refers to her courtship as a business matter?”

OLIVER GOLDSMITH

 
 
 
 
 
“I AM VERY GLAD YOU DECIDED TO ACCOMPANY ME THIS MORNING, Lady Elinore.” Sebastian slowed the horses to a trot as they entered a narrow, cobbled street in the east end of the city. It was not precisely a slum, but it was not the sort of place where he would expect to see a lady of Lady Elinore’s quality. No wonder she had brought her footman instead of a maid. He’d wondered at the time. She seemed such a stickler for the proprieties. But a footman would offer the sort of protection a maid could not.

She was wearing gray again. Gray dress, gray pelisse, and a gray bonnet. All plainly cut and unembellished.

Lady Elinore inclined her head graciously at his words, swaying subtly away from him as they turned the corner. She’d done it every time, avoiding even the slightest brush against his shoulder, no matter how much the curricle swayed. It might be propriety, but Sebastian suspected it was more than that: she did not like to be touched. It made courtship more difficult, but it was no real bar to the kind of marriage he was set on. He was marrying for practical reasons, not for passion.

A vision of Hope Merridew sprang to mind. He forced it away. If he had no responsibilities, if he were a free agent, he would pursue Miss Hope Merridew with all his heart. But she was a . . . a . . . He groped for a suitable word. A silken elf, a fragile creature from a world he could never inhabit, full of laughter and high spirits.

If he took such a delicate creature into the mess he had made of three lives, it would crush the spirit out of her, and that he could never bear.

It was hard enough to bear her new cold looks. His own fault. His intention. He’d had to tell her about Lady Elinore. He needed that barrier between them to protect her. At the lakeside the day before, he’d all but disgraced her in a public park. He would have kissed her, which would have taken things further.

Sebastian Reyne, reaching for the moon again. When would he learn?

He forced his mind back to the matter at hand. And the woman. “I am sure your presence must lend weight to my cause, Lady Elinore. I am aware that my offer is a controversial one and that not all of your associates agree.”

Lady Elinore’s gray bonnet bobbed in agreement. “I must confess I opposed it when you first broached the matter, but now I understand your motives better, I have changed my mind. I am certain our charges will benefit from your involvement, and I know that several of our patronesses are under some financial strain: something to do with investments and the late war.” She grimaced and shook her head. “Your purchase of the institution will relieve their difficulties.”

“Happy to be of service.”

She had no idea of his real motives. No one did. Sebastian was even uncertain himself. All he knew was that he had to buy this particular orphan asylum. No other one would do.

No other institution had housed his sisters, after all.

Lady Elinore had no idea of his relationship with the place. Morton Black’s investigations had shown that Lady Elinore’s mother had died just before Cassie and Dorie had been brought to the institution. Girls brought in were routinely renamed, though their original names were recorded in a book. Morton Black had been willing to destroy that page, but as it turned out, there was no need. There could be no traceable connection between Carrie and Doreen Morgan and Cassandra and Eudora Reyne.

Sebastian reined in his horses, and the curricle drew up outside a tall, narrow building of grim aspect.

He leaped down and held out a hand to assist Lady Elinore down. She barely touched him. Even her gloves were gray. “Forgive my ignorance, but are you in half mourning, Lady Elinore?”

She shook her head. “No. Not at all. It is not quite a year since my mother died, it is true, but mourning dictated by convention is not a belief I subscribe to. If it is the color of my clothing you are referring to, the choice is deliberate. I have worn gray all my life, as did my late mother. Colors inflame the masculine passions.”

Sebastian raised a brow. “Do they?”

“Yes. My late mother, Lady Ennismore, made a close study of such things. If all females understood it and avoided colorful clothing, our lives would be much more peaceful and rational.”

“Indeed,” Sebastian murmured noncommittally. If everyone wore gray, it would make life a great deal drearier, in his opinion. Nor would it be profitable for the textile trade.

His doubt must have been inadequately disguised, for as they mounted the steps to the front entrance of the building, Lady Elinore explained earnestly, “It is quite true. My mother conducted a number of scientific investigations and published them in a book; you may have heard of it:
The Principles of Rationality for Enlightened Ladies.
”

Sebastian confessed that he hadn’t heard of it.

“I shall present you with a copy, then, for I am hoping to get this entire institution run according to my mother’s Principles. I have already made some innovations, but not all of the other ladies agree. But I digress, for we were discussing the hue of my attire. Mother found that gray was the color that most inspired neutrality in masculine breasts.”

Sebastian could not argue with that. There was not a lot one could say about gray, he had to admit. And observing her in her gray ensemble, he also admitted to a strong feeling of neutrality.

She tugged the bellpull. A bell clanged in the far recesses of the house, and in an instant the door was opened by a large woman dressed in a black serge dress.

She conducted them in silence to a large room in which six ladies sat waiting for him. They ranged in age from a beefy matron of about fifty to a desiccated old stick who had to be well past eighty. Three were dressed in unrelieved, unadorned gray, one was dressed in black, and the remaining two were dressed in such brilliant colors, Sebastian almost blinked at the contrast.

As he entered, six pairs of eyes narrowed with varying degrees of approval and suspicion. Sebastian was accustomed to the scrutiny of strangers. He did not care, as long as he got what he wanted.

“Ladies,” he said, after the introductions had been made. “You have known of my interest for some time, so I’ll not beat about the bush. I would like to purchase this institution. You have my assurance in writing that I will continue its good work, and you have had Lady Elinore testify to my character. Furthermore, I am willing to allow three of you to remain on in an advisory capacity, so all that is left is for me to make the offer.” He named a sum, and from the sounds of the stifled gasps, it was more than acceptable. He stood up. “Perhaps someone will show me around, while you are discussing my offer. As you know, I have never before ventured past the entrance.” And he was curious to see the place that had taken in his sisters.

“I shall escort you,” Lady Elinore said. “Everyone here knows my views about the sale.”

She conducted Sebastian around the building, explaining the purpose of the establishment and answering all his questions. He was interested in the place, but not so much the theories behind it. He knew nothing about the upbringing of girls. As long as the inmates were clean and warm and well fed and cared for, he didn’t mind how the place was run. He left that to others, who had knowledge and beliefs about how it should be done.

And Lady Elinore, he discovered, had very passionate beliefs. “The thing is, Mr. Reyne, these girls—through no fault of their own—have been exposed to the vilest aspects of human nature. We must redress that imbalance, so that they can recover from their ordeals and grow up to live useful, respectable lives.”

She talked of how a quiet life, with routine, study, and work, would settle down the more extreme aspects of the girls’ behavior. She explained how they would grow in dignity and independence as a result. It sounded good to Sebastian. It seemed to him that she would know exactly how to manage and care for his sisters. He had made the right decision, as personally painful as it was.

He couldn’t see Miss Hope Merridew settling for quiet routine, study, and work. To be honest, he couldn’t quite see Cassie settling to it, either, but what he saw convinced him it must be possible.

She conducted him to a room where girls sat in rows, sewing, while a lady read aloud to them from a book. “Improving tales,” explained Lady Elinore in a whisper. “Each one is about a girl who has strayed from the correct path, and each contains a moral lesson. My mother wrote it. We alternate between my mother’s writings and the Bible. Replacing their former lives of depravity with a sound moral foundation.”

Sebastian nodded. What did he know about the education of young girls?

“The girls learn all the domestic skills, from cooking to cleaning and dressmaking, and then are apprenticed to a trade, according to their talents and abilities. They work throughout the day, of course. We do not allow time for idle hands, for idleness leads to depravity, as everybody knows. We allow breaks for meals and also for exercise—my mother was a great believer in exercise for females. She ascribes a host of female ills to the lack of it.”

It was a sound principle, he thought. Exercise breaks were more than most little factory workers got, he knew. Some of the boys and girls he’d known as a child had become crippled from fourteen hours a day on the factory floor, with no time allowed to move about or stretch their aching muscles. The moment he’d taken over as manager of the mill, he’d instituted short exercise and meal breaks, and it had paid off. No more children were crippled in his mills.