Gypsy Legacy: The Earl, page 6
Arithmetic and needlework went hand in hand. French went well with it too. And so did a little natural science and philosophy. She also had an agreement with Mabel whereby Mabel would teach the other domestic subjects when she was absent from Town. Since some of the girls were only there for four hours a day, they squeezed in as much as they could.
Mabel left and she turned to the class. For the next two hours she drilled the girls in numbers—first in English, then in French. Then they graduated to sums, and were introduced to the concept of multiplication. In between, she talked to the girls about their lives, hopes and dreams.
Most of the girls were orphans, residents of the orphanage next door. The school agreed to educate them provided they arrived clean and fed. It was a good arrangement, for it provided the girls with a needed education and saved the orphanage the expense of providing it as well as food, clothing, and shelter. To Amanda, it made perfect sense, and kept the girls from being shipped off to work in the factories too young.
The rest came from families who were not well-off enough to employ a governess, but could afford the small fee the school charged. These girls were often the daughters of merchants and tradesmen, and many went home in the afternoons to work in their fathers’ shops while the girls from the orphanage returned in the afternoons to learn a trade.
In the two years since Amanda had discovered the school and become involved with it, it had changed dramatically. Gone was the dirt and filth which had been piled in the halls, the girls no longer were crammed into one or two rooms with little or no supplies and they now received a decent education from women with some education themselves.
"You have done well today.” She praised the girls as Mabel returned, signaling the end of the morning. “Try not to forget everything before tomorrow."
A chorus of girlish laughter greeted her.
"We won't forget, Miss Amanda,” one of the girls said as they filed out of the room. “You'll see."
Once they were gone, she turned to Mabel. “I'm afraid I won't be here tomorrow. I have a prior engagement. If I finish early, I will try to drop in, but I'm not sure it will be possible."
"'Tis all right. Ye know ye do too much as it is. Mr. Cooper takes advantage of yer good nature."
"It's no trouble at all. I enjoy being with the girls. Having been an only child for so long makes me love being around children all the more."
Mabel smiled. “What did ye think of Cassie?"
Amanda remembered there had been a new girl in the class today. She hadn't said much, even when Amanda tried to draw her out.
"She seems quiet, but maybe it's because she's new. Where'd she come from?"
"A woman brought her to the orphanage. Said her mum died an’ she had nowheres to go."
"Poor thing,” Amanda sympathized. “How old is she?"
"Ten."
"Was the woman who brought her a relative?"
"Said she wasn't, but ye never know. According to some of the other girls, Cassie talks and acts ‘real fancy', an’ I asked Granny about her. She says the clothes Cassie arrived in were well made and of good materials. The orphanage could clothe nearly a dozen girls if they sold the clothes Cassie arrived in and some of the other things what arrived with her."
"What does Cassie have to say about any family?"
"Nothin'. She don't talk much and don't cause no trouble, but the girls all say she cries a lot at night."
Amanda pondered Mabel's words all the way home. Orphanages, she knew, usually only took in children of a middle-class background. The poorest children often lived on the streets, faring the best they could. It was an untenable situation, but new groups were appearing almost daily, trying to alleviate the problem.
It wouldn't do to dwell too much on Cassie. She would adapt in time, but Amanda understood her loss. Having lost her own mother when she was eight, she often wondered what might have happened to her if she had lost her father as well. She wouldn't have ended up in an orphanage, but her life would have been very different.
"I've made my decision,” she said to Felicia that afternoon as they strolled through Lady Warburton's gardens.
The majority of the guests at the garden party were clustered in small groups scattered across the lawns, but she and Felicia hadn't wanted to sit.
"And?"
"I can't,” she said. “I just can't marry Lord Thurston."
"Why not?"
"It's all your brother's fault."
"Why is it Jon's fault you can't marry Lord Thurston? I'm assuming you're talking about Jon."
Because I've been in love with him since I was seven years old. But she couldn't tell Felicia that. Felicia might say something and try to fix it. It was fortunate Felicia didn't know what her panther represented.
"Because he pointed out Lord Thurston was too much like my father, and as much as I love my father, I could not be married to him. I would go mad in a very short period of time."
Felicia giggled. “Oh."
They approached a small pond and stood at the edge watching the ducks swimming to and fro. The sun overhead was hot, but the cooling breeze that fluttered the edges of her blue parasol made standing there bearable.
"Are you sure?” Felicia asked after a while.
"Sure? About what?"
"About Lord Thurston?"
Amanda sighed. “Yes."
"Good, then. When will you tell him?"
"I suppose I could tell him tonight, but I promised him an answer tomorrow at ten."
"Wait until tomorrow and tonight you can help me make the disappointment less painful."
Amanda glanced over at her friend. “What are you planning?"
Felicia's dark blue eyes sparkled as she looked up at Amanda. “I happen to think he and Martha Danvers will make a good match. So, tonight we will pair them up."
Amanda's laughter bubbled forth. “Felicia, you are incorrigible."
Felicia was unapologetic as she responded with a grin. “I am, aren't I?"
"Lady Huddleston must be ecstatic.” Felicia met Amanda near the top of the stairs leading down to the ballroom. “I wouldn't have thought she could squeeze so many people into one place."
"Let's hope the windows are open, otherwise we'll all be swooning before the night is over.” Amanda used her fan vigorously. She was already warm and she'd just arrived.
Felicia grinned. “Knowing Lady Huddleston, she'll consider that the ultimate mark of success."
She nodded. “The Courtlands’ wasn't nearly as crowded. By the time Eliza and I left to come here, most of the young people had already left."
They moved through the crowd discussing family, friends and Amanda's charity work. At one point, they stopped as a group of people all moved into their path at once. Another person collided with her from behind. Turning, she found Martha Danvers behind her.
"Pardon me,” Martha stammered. “I didn't ... That is, I wasn't watching...” Amanda thought she looked quite pretty dressed in a gown of pale peach.
Remembering her conversation with Felicia at Lady Warburton's earlier, Amanda smiled. “No harm done, Martha."
"Indeed,” Felicia chimed in. “It's good to see you. How are you this evening?"
Martha dipped Felicia a curtsy and replied, “I'm well, Your Grace.” She looked around as if searching for someone. “But I seem to have lost Charity."
The best thing to happen so far tonight, Amanda thought. “I'm sure she will be fine."
"Why don't you walk with us for a bit until we find her?” Felicia invited.
Amanda was stopped by a patron of the school who wanted to ask her some questions. Waving Felicia and Martha off, she turned to give Lady Atwater her full attention. Some minutes later, as she finished her discussion, the musicians struck up a waltz and she turned to find Jon beside her.
It would be churlish to refuse, she told herself. Especially considering the decision she'd made the night before. Yet she was still uneasy and unsure in his presence. Why couldn't she just put what happened three years ago behind her? He obviously had.
It was as they passed another couple on the floor that she spoke.
"I noticed you talking to Lord Thurston.” She strove to keep her voice steady. “You weren't, by any chance, warning him off, were you?"
"Could I?"
"I don't know. I suppose it would depend on what you said."
"Are you not sure of his affections?"
She did not want to answer that question. It was not Thurston's affections she was unsure of. It was her own. And knowing she planned to tell him no on the morrow caused her to feel more than a little guilty.
They passed Thurston and Martha once again and she wondered how Felicia had orchestrated that. But she had to admit they made a fine couple. Thurston was smiling and Martha seemed to be conversing with him, something Amanda knew was difficult for her. Mayhap everything would turn out for the best after all.
"And why would I want to?"
"Want to what?"
"Warn Lord Thurston off, as you put it?"
Blood stole into her face as she realized how the question sounded. Once again, she had spoken before thinking. Why couldn't her wayward tongue keep still in his presence?
Jon watched the color suffuse her face, then recede, leaving huge blue eyes in its wake before she lowered her lashes, shielding them from him. For the first time since he was a green youth, he didn't know what to say to a woman. That Amanda was still wary of him was obvious, but how to alleviate it without touching on the source of the uneasiness eluded him.
Reminding her of the kiss did not bother him. In truth, he wanted her to remember that magical moment. However, he would prefer she not relive the hurt he had inflicted afterwards. If he closed his eyes, he could still see the pain and disillusionment which had filled her eyes before he turned away from her. The destruction of her dreams. Dreams he knew had been centered around him. It would serve him right if she never felt comfortable around him again.
Unfortunately, that wouldn't do. She was his sister's best friend. He had the feeling they would be seeing a lot of each other over the years and he didn't want one thoughtless act on his part to keep them from being friends. That was the least they could be.
"Relax. I don't bite."
Her head snapped up, her gaze colliding with his. “You'll forgive me, my lord, if I disagree,” she responded, tartly. “I'm afraid previous encounters are all I have to go on and they tell me something different."
"I wondered.” His voice was low.
Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Wondered what?"
He wasn't sure how to answer her. “Three years is a long time to hold a grudge."
Amanda's eyes widened. He knew she had not expected him to acknowledge the incident. Perhaps there was hope after all. If they could get past that, then ... who knew what could happen.
"I do not hold grudges. But I do learn from experience."
"Experience can, indeed, be an excellent teacher,” he agreed, “provided one does not learn the wrong lesson from it."
The dance came to an end, and he escorted her off the floor. Felicia was waiting, watching him more closely than he cared for. He knew Felicia would be happy if he married Amanda, even if she didn't have the statuette. Whether Tina would understand his ignoring Nona's dictate was a separate matter.
Taking his leave, he headed for the door. He'd had enough for tonight, and still had work to do to catch up from his long absence. He still hadn't been by to see his grandmother yet since his return, and now Amanda had given him food for thought. He needed to plan carefully how he was going to work his way around the problem or he'd give too much away in doing so.
At precisely ten o'clock the next morning, Amanda stood in the burgundy and cream drawing room of Barrington house, staring out over the garden at the back. For some reason she was nervous. She knew she shouldn't be. She had done this twice before. But this time there was more at stake. Her very reputation, in fact.
She was taking a huge gamble by turning Lord Thurston down. If she couldn't get Lord Wynton to come up to scratch, she might well end up a spinster. Thurston's would be the third proposal she had turned down in the past year. Soon all the eligible young men would begin to avoid her, and she would be labeled as too finicky by the dowagers.
The bell pealed and a lump rose in her throat. Rubbing her hands together, she noticed they were sweaty. What was wrong with her?
The door opened behind her and Eliza entered the room. “Lord Thurston is here. Shall I have Barrons show him in?"
Amanda turned from the window, her movements jerky. Blood pounded in her ears. Taking a deep breath to steady her nerves, she nodded. Eliza looked at her closely for a moment and started to say something. Then she seemed to decide against it and left.
She was about to let them down. Papa and Eliza. Her father liked Thurston and she knew they would have gotten along well, but she couldn't marry someone so much like him. That had been the decision-maker for her. And she couldn't forget Jon had been the one who had pointed it out.
Viscount Thurston entered the room, impeccably dressed as usual. His dark brown morning coat was immaculate over a white shirt, cravat and dark brown trousers. Taking another deep breath, she moved toward him, the skirts of her rose pink morning gown swirling around her ankles.
"Would you like some refreshment?” She was pleased to find her voice even.
He shook his head. “We need not stand on formality. You know why I am here."
For some reason, he also seemed nervous, his shoulders tensed as if expecting a blow. What did you expect? The thought rose unbidden. If she was honest with herself, she wondered if he didn't already know the answer and was only waiting for her to voice it.
She nodded. Seating herself on the sofa, she invited him to sit as well. Expecting him to sit beside her, she found herself unaccountably relieved when he chose a chair situated beside the sofa instead.
Once seated, he stared at her for a long minute before asking, “Well?"
A part of her was annoyed that he didn't bother to ask her again. What that would have done, she had no idea, but it firmed her resolve. If only she didn't feel so guilty about it.
She had done this before. She knew the words by rote. I am flattered by the honor you do me, but I'm afraid I must decline. Instead, she said, “I'm sorry, but I cannot marry you.” Adequate, but not very appeasing.
"I see,” was his only comment, but she noticed some of the tension left his shoulders.
The silence was deafening. She wondered what he was thinking. Whether he would ask her why and what she would say if he did.
In the end, however, he said nothing. After a few minutes, he rose to his feet. She rose as well. “I-I'm sorry.” The words tumbled awkwardly from her lips.
He smiled and took her hand. “Do not be.” His grey eyes were kind. “I think I knew after our discussion the other night.” Raising her hand to his lips, he brushed her knuckles, then looked into her eyes. “I hope someday you find the person who can give you whatever it is you are looking for."
When he turned and left the room, Amanda collapsed back onto the sofa. Guilt ate at her over the callous way she had treated him, yet she knew that had she said yes, it would have been a terrible mistake. Feeling tears start in her eyes, she knew she had to get away. Eliza would return any minute and she did not want her stepmother to find her crying. Especially since the tears were of relief.
Jon stepped out of his coach and looked up at Number Nineteen Park Court. It looked like most of the other houses along the street, its three-story brick-fronted facade plain and unadorned. The brass knocker on the door shone, signaling the owner was in residence.
He gave his coachman instructions for when to return, then dismissed him and climbed the steps. The door opened as he reached the top step, revealing Smithers, his grandmother's butler.
"Good day, my lord."
"Morning, Smithers.” He handed his hat and cane to the man. “Is my grandmother receiving?"
"In the green parlor, my lord.” Jon headed toward the back of the house and the room in question.
He could hear voices as he approached the door, which sat slightly ajar, and slowed his steps. He had hoped she would be alone. It was the reason he had come in the morning. He frowned. Now what? Then the voices drifted out, and he relaxed.
"So, now what do you plan to do?” he heard his grandmother say.
"I don't know,” was the reply and he recognized Amanda's voice immediately. “I haven't decided yet."
"Seems to me you're burning your bridges a bit too fast."
"I know, but I really couldn't have married him."
"If you'll recall, I told that you before."
"I know, I know. Oh well, that's over with now, and I can concentrate on more important things."
"Such as?"
"The school, of course."
His grandmother made a tsking sound. “You should not allow the school to consume you."
"I try not to, but they need so much. The new Board is horrible. We need to do something about them. We don't need the grants, so we ought to be able to teach what we feel is necessary. And Mr. Cooper is an idiot. Somehow we must get out from under the thumb of the Board."
Jon decided he'd eavesdropped enough and knocked on the open door, entering the room at his grandmother's invitation.
"Well, it's about time!” she exclaimed upon seeing him. “You've been back for days, and this is the first time I've laid eyes on you."
Jon gave her his warmest smile. “I'm afraid my secretary and solicitor are born slave drivers."
Amanda jumped to her feet as he approached, her eyes wide. It took him a moment to recognize the emotion he read there before she looked down, and he wondered what she felt guilty about.
The dowager Countess of Wynton sat in a large overstuffed chair that dwarfed her small frame. Jon was surprised by how much she had aged in the last three years and was reminded she might not have been here at all when he returned. Having lived into her seventies, he knew her health was not the best and she rarely left her home. Yet even as he looked down into eyes which mirrored his own, he could see they were still sharp and alert, although her previously blond hair was now completely white.
