To Honor and Trust (3 page)

He nodded. “I'll see you at dinner.”

Wes leaned back in his chair and watched his sister and her family as they made their way to the hotel entrance. In some ways, he wished he could be like Charles or Daniel or Helena—that he could be satisfied marrying the proper socialite and working for the family business. But he didn't fit the mold. And he doubted he ever would—not after all that had happened in Texas. In fact, he wondered if he would ever find peace again.

Callie followed Maude into the sunroom, where Mrs. Bridgeport planned to explain her list of expectations. Though Callie had attempted to escape this meeting, Mrs. Bridgeport insisted upon her presence. Once they'd settled in the cushioned wicker furniture, Mrs. Bridgeport unfolded a piece of stationery.

She tapped the piece of paper and smiled at Maude. “I've written these down so I won't forget any of the things we need to discuss concerning the children.” Mrs. Bridgeport cleared her throat. “But first I want to address my expectations regarding personal appearance.”

Maude snapped to attention. “Last I knew, none of us is able to change the way we look. We're stuck with what the good Lord gave us.” She pointed her thumb at Callie. “Not that I wouldn't prefer to look like her—or you, for that matter, Missus—but that ain't going to be happenin'.”

Mrs. Bridgeport arched her brows. “Isn't going to happen.”

Maude frowned. “That's what I said.”

“I was correcting your grammar, Maude. You should have used the word
isn't
instead of
ain't
. I want the children to use proper English. I'll add that to my list.”

Maude's look of confusion remained, but she nodded. “I'll do my best.”

“Now, let's return to the topic of personal appearance.” Mrs. Bridgeport turned her attention to Maude. “I want our children to be well groomed at all times. And we must lead by example. Don't you agree, Maude?”

The older woman immediately tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Well, I do think children should be neat and so forth, but I'm all for lettin' them have fun and get dirty, too. Elstwise, there's not much sense in having a childhood, now is there?”

“Childhood is a time to have fun, but it is also a time to instill proper values. Callie takes care of educating the children. They are fluent in both French and English, and they have been equally successful in their other educational skills, as well.” She beamed at Callie. “That, of course, is due to Callie's excellent example and dedicated efforts. The children are quite fond of her, yet she sets high standards for them.”

Maude reached over and patted Callie's arm. “Good for you, Callie. Sounds like the missus might be preparing to give you an increase in pay.”

Callie smiled at the older woman. Somehow, this meeting had gone off the rails and Mrs. Bridgeport was having difficulty getting it back on track.

“I was attempting to make a point that children frequently learn by following the example of others. For instance, when Callie instructs the children to speak in French, she reinforces her request by conversing with them in French.”

Wide-eyed, Maude turned toward Callie. “You speak French, do ya? That's mighty impressive. Maybe I could learn a few words if ya have time to teach me.” She tipped her head
to the side and looked at Mrs. Bridgeport. “To see someone old as me learning to speak French might set a good example for the children, don't ya think?”

Mrs. Bridgeport withdrew a handkerchief from her pocket and blotted her forehead. “Let's not worry about French lessons at the moment, Maude. As the children's nanny, you are the one charged with making certain they are cared for and properly groomed. Unless they are in classes with Callie, the children are under your supervision. To that end, your appearance is very important.” She inhaled a deep breath. “You will provide a much better example for the children if your hair is properly arranged and your clothing is clean and pressed.”

Maude traced her hand down the wrinkled skirt. “My things have been packed, and I'll see to pressing them first thing, Missus. I doubt I have dresses that will meet the standards you might be expectin'. I hit a spot of hard times and didn't have money for new dresses and such.”

“Dear me, I am sorry to hear you've been through difficult circumstances, Maude.” Mrs. Bridgeport's face turned as pink as the roses that bloomed in her garden each summer. “I want you to come with me to Biscayne at the end of the week, and we'll find some suitable clothing for you. Had I known of your situation, I would have sent money in advance for you to purchase whatever you needed.”

Maude's face lit up like candles on a Christmas tree. She touched a hand to her unkempt hair and leaned a little closer to Callie. “Maybe you can show me how to fix my hair a little more proper. Since it turned gray a few years ago, it's become wiry and hard to manage. I pin it down, but in no time it pops from beneath the pins like corn exploding over a hot fire.”

Callie smiled. “I'll see if there's a style we can develop that might be easier for you to manage.”

Mrs. Murphy scooted back on the cushioned chair and rested her arms across her waist. “That's mighty thoughtful of you.”

Mrs. Bridgeport's features tightened. “Surely you know how to fashion hair, Mrs. Murphy. Our nannies have always styled our daughters' hair, and I assumed that since you had worked as a nanny for Mrs. Winslow, you would know how to fashion and care for the children's hair and clothing.”

“Oh, I can take care of the children just fine—unless they have some of this wiry gray hair like my own.” She cackled and slapped her leg as though she'd found great humor in her own comment.

Clearly this was not the nanny Mrs. Bridgeport had expected, yet Callie remained certain the woman possessed fine attributes. Why else would she have come so highly recommended? Still, Maude's behavior was a far cry from the refined and proper behavior of their former nanny, Miss Sophie, and Mrs. Bridgeport's frustration appeared to be increasing by the minute.

Hoping to ease her employer's concern, Callie scooted forward on the chair. “Since you have a meeting to attend this morning, Mrs. Bridgeport, I would be happy to show Maude a bit of how we do things here at Fair Haven.”

The strained look on Mrs. Bridgeport's face vanished. “I had completely forgotten I was to meet with the ladies to go over plans for some of our personal entertaining this season. Thank you for reminding me, Callie.” She flashed a smile at the younger woman. “I'm sure you can more easily explain the children's schedule and show Maude where things are and how I expect items cared for in the children's rooms.”

Mrs. Bridgeport strode toward the sunroom doorway, but
then stopped and glanced over her shoulder. “And Callie, don't forget that I'm planning on your attendance at the masquerade ball later in the week.”

Callie inwardly cringed at the reminder. Even though they weren't related, more often than not, the Bridgeports treated her as a member of the family. “Perhaps it would be better if I refrain from attending any evening events until Maude is more accustomed to caring for the children.”

“Nonsense. Maude will be just fine with the children.” Mrs. Bridgeport turned her attention to the new employee. “Won't you, Maude?”

“Yes, ma'am. I believe we're going to get along just dandy.”

Mrs. Bridgeport smiled. “There, you see?” She snapped her fan together. “I plan to join Luther at the club for lunch once my meeting ends, so please go ahead with the children's lunch.”

Once she'd departed the room, Maude turned her full attention upon Callie. “Appears that you have the job of teachin' me as well as the children. I'm guessin' the girls are upstairs?”

“Yes. They are delightful children, and I'm sure you'll enjoy them very much. When their schedule is interrupted, they go to the spare room upstairs that we use as a schoolroom and playroom. Weather permitting, I try to take them outdoors for some of their lessons each day. And, of course, Thomas enjoys sports, and since he is older than the girls, I do my best to take care of his educational needs while incorporating outdoor sports whenever possible.”

Mrs. Murphy eyed a rifle hanging over the mantel. “And I suppose his father takes care of the hunting portion of his education.”

Callie nodded. “That's true. However, Thomas occasionally accompanies us when I take the girls to play croquet or
shuffleboard. All three of them enjoy outdoor games. However, because of the outdoor sporting activities for Thomas, there are times when I'll need to leave the girls in your charge. You won't have any problems with them. They're happy playing with their dollhouse or having a little tea party with their dolls out in the gazebo.” Callie pointed toward the large gazebo not far from the house. “How many children did you care for when you worked for Mrs. Winslow?”

Mrs. Murphy's eyebrows pinched together. “Depended on the time of year. Some of them went off to boarding school, and sometimes they'd all be home for the holidays and so forth.”

“Did they have daughters, or only sons?”

“Some of both.” Mrs. Murphy jumped up from her chair as if she'd been hit by a load of buckshot and touched a finger to her eye. “Time's a wasting. Why don't you show me around the house, and then I'd like a look at the children's rooms. Best to know where I'll be spending most of my time, don't you think?”

Perhaps thoughts of her previous charges had stirred poignant memories for Mrs. Murphy. Employment as a nanny or tutor to young children created a bond that was not easily broken. Callie knew all too well, for she dreaded the day when the remaining Bridgeport children would be sent to boarding school and her services would no longer be needed.

She grasped Mrs. Murphy's arm. “I'm sorry. Sometimes I ask too many questions.”

The older woman's lips curved in a wavering smile. “No need for apologies. There are times when I've been accused of the same thing. Sometimes I become a bit overwrought when I think of the Winslow children being all grown up. Would be nice to hear from one or two of them, but I'm sure they
forgot me the minute they went off to boarding school.” Her pale gray eyes clouded when she looked at Callie. “You know how it is—once they get away from home, things are never the same, even when they come back for a visit.”

Callie did know. Even though she hadn't been tutor to the three older Bridgeport sons, she'd heard their mother lament the fact that they'd all changed far too much to suit her once they'd gone off to school. Hoping to keep Thomas at home, Mrs. Bridgeport had used that argument with her husband, but to no avail. Besides, if Thomas wasn't permitted to join his brothers at boarding school next year, Callie was certain there would be mayhem in the Bridgeport household. If he'd been given his way, Thomas would have gone off to school even before he turned thirteen, but much to his annoyance, he'd been unable to convince his mother.

Mrs. Murphy glanced about as they entered the small kitchen. “The time passes quicker than ya think—you'll see. In seven or eight years, that youngest girl will be packing her trunk and heading off to boarding school, and then where will ya be?” She turned in a circle. “This is a mighty small kitchen for such a big house. How do the cooks prepare meals without bumping into each other?”

“Most meals are eaten at the clubhouse. In fact, it's very much expected. The kitchen was installed in the house for occasional family meals and for the children when they don't join their parents at the clubhouse for dinner or during the more formal events conducted in the evenings. The children eat breakfast here in the kitchen each morning, as well.”

She nodded her head. “From what the missus said, it sounds like you sometimes join them at those fancy doings over at the clubhouse.”

“My grandmother and Mrs. Bridgeport's mother were dear friends for many years. I moved to Indianapolis to live with my grandmother when I was fifteen years old, and it was due to Grandmother's friendship with Mrs. Bridgeport's mother that I secured this position after my grandmother's death. In some circumstances, Mr. and Mrs. Bridgeport insist I attend formal events with them.”

“Oh, so yar rich, too.” Mrs. Murphy put her hand over her mouth, realizing she'd overstepped. “Sorry, of course ya ain't rich . . . not if ya have to work for a livin'.”

Callie wasn't at all sure what to say. Her family's financial status wasn't any of the woman's business.

Mrs. Murphy recovered her boldness as they walked down the hall. “You should take advantage of going to parties with those wealthy folks so you can find you a man and make a life of your own. Like I said before, these children will all go off to boarding school, and you'll be left looking for work.” She
tsk
ed and patted Callie's shoulder. “Take it from me, finding work when you're old isn't so easy. Folks know it's hard for us old folk to chase after their little ones. They'd rather hire someone young instead of someone ready for a rocking chair.”

Mrs. Murphy wasn't old enough to consider a rocking chair, but the woman was correct: Callie did need to make plans about her future—about whether she would heed her parents' wish for her to join them in Africa. The thought caused her to shiver. Unlike her parents and their overwhelming desire to serve in the mission field in Africa, Callie preferred to serve God in the United States.

Callie led Mrs. Murphy to the back staircase, but her thoughts remained on Africa. To travel so far and leave familiar
surroundings held little appeal, yet she wanted to help her parents. She wanted to please them, too. For more than a year, she had prayed for God's leading in her life, but her prayers had been shallow. She didn't truly want God to answer her prayers unless He directed her to remain with the Bridgeports. “I've been giving the matter of my future great thought—and a good deal of prayer. Mr. and Mrs. Bridgeport suggested I open a school of my own in the future. However, my decision doesn't need to be made this winter.”

“You're right. And you're probably going to keep saying that same thing to yourself every winter for the next eight years.” Mrs. Murphy paused on the steep stairway and panted. “So I'm to use these back stairs all the time?”