According to
Plan
Robert walked out in the morning after first having debated whether to walk to the manor for a horse. He had eventually decided against it. It would take him almost as long as walking to the river directly, especially because the stables contained all sorts of people eager for conversation.
"How are you this morning, Mr. Newman?" That question proved his assumption wrong.
He was greeted by two women with baskets just outside his garden gate. Two women in this particular location spelled trouble. It was awfully suspicious that they were passing here the moment he came out. He could see they were not heading his way, so he was not required to walk into the village with them. That was at least fortunate, although he supposed he could not escape a brief chat.
Robert had no doubt that Mrs. Elfridge and Mrs. Tompkins only wanted to quiz him about his nanny, so he gave them a cheerful smile and decided to let them work for it. Information must be a reward and not a right. "Never better, ladies. You are also looking very fine today. The weather is excellent, is it not?"
"Indeed it is!" Mrs. Tompkins agreed. "It would be perfect for your governess to take a stroll with the babe, for instance."
"If she likes walking, I expect she may go out." He had not thought about it and he had not asked what she would do. It was a lovely day, but if she merely took Thomas into the garden that would be fine too. It might be a little heavy to carry him very far.
"Is she not to do any domestic work then, Mr. Newman?"
It was clear they wanted to know more about Miss Cartwright's status in the household. After Mrs. Lewis' preparatory warning, he expected they would lean towards disapproval if she did not have to do any domestic work at all. Taking a stroll would evidently signify she had nothing to do. He was not going to say anything outright, however. It was not only because he could have more amusement in that manner, but also because he was truly ignorant of her plans. "I do not know what she has planned for today."
She had been up to have breakfast with him -- apparently she did not have a habit of sleeping late -- and she had asked him if she might take a bath. He knew at least one of her plans then, but he had best not mention it unless these two women wished to call on her. He had said she could take baths whenever she liked. It would be too much of a chore to do too often anyway.
"I heard Cook still has your meals delivered. Would such freedom not give your governess ideas above her station?" Mrs. Tompkins could be quite impertinent and direct if she chose and naturally some directness was required if Mr. Newman persisted in not satisfying her curiosity.
"Are you envious of Cook's meals, madam?" he wondered.
"I thought it was the girls cooking, not Cook," she replied, but she would not be thwarted. "I did not believe it, but I heard you had plans with your governess."
"Indeed I do. Everything is going according to plan," Robert answered with a smile. It amused him that he was out while the young lady was at her most corruptible. "Do not be concerned."
"We assumed it was an invention." She glanced at Mrs. Elfridge.
"Not at all. It is a fact." They would soon discover that for gossip purposes inventions were better than facts, he supposed. They would prefer to make up their own story.
"But what exactly do you plan to do with your governess?" Mrs. Tompkins looked confused at this blunt admission and Mrs. Elfridge no less so.
"I am sure two ladies of your understanding will have no problems working that one out!" He touched his hat and walked on before they could say more.
He pondered the notion that not having to cook would give Miss Cartwright ideas above her station. If he was not mistaken, her station had always been a little above where she was now. It would not give her any ideas at all, for it would be exactly what she had been used to. The question was rather how she would look upon having to cook. She would not protest, but he thought he had best keep the arrangement with Cook. It was in everybody's favour.
Anne hoisted Thomas onto her hip again and resumed walking. The boy was heavy, but she had had no choice but to take him with her. Mr. Newman had forgotten his bread and he had said he would be out all day. He could well walk home, but she would have considered it extremely neglectful of her if she had seen the package lying on the table without doing anything about it. It was important to bring Mr. Newman his bread before he felt the first pangs of hunger. Everything else did not receive quite as much consideration and thought.
He had been quite understanding after her outburst, which he did not even appear to have considered as such. He had talked on very quietly as if it had not happened, but he had not teased her again. That was why he deserved to have his bread brought to him. There had been two options: she could walk or she could take the pony cart, but if the pony did not respond to her calls there was only one option left.
A fashionable gentleman on a white stallion caught up with her and he slowed down his horse. Anne paid him no heed, since she did not know him. It appeared he did not like being ignored. "Are you not going to bid me a good day, madam?" he asked after a prolonged silence.
She had no idea who he could be and why he wished to be greeted. He was not in luck, though, for she had no intention of saying anything. He frightened her, the way he kept riding beside her, glancing down. She calculated the distance to the bridge where Mr. Newman would be. Hopefully he was still there and he had not wandered off to another problem that needed his attention. She could be there in a minute or two, she hoped, although she had only been there once.
After a very long minute she was out of the woodland again and she breathed a sigh of relief. The man was still beside her, but here she would leave him, for down that slight slope was the bridge. There would be men working there today, he had said, and there were. She would be safe. Her pace quickened as she almost ran down the slope, not stopping to see what the man on the white stallion was doing until she reached the building activity.
The man was gone.
Mr. Newman had his back to her, arguing about the increased price of stone. Anne did not want to be the cause of a more expensive bridge, so she sat down on the ground with Thomas. The workmen were interested in her, but it was not a frightening sort of interest and at some she could smile. Some waved at Thomas.
When Mr. Newman had pressed his point that he -- or rather, the duke -- would not suddenly pay more for stone, he turned to see why the pace of working had slowed down so much. "Miss Cartwright?" he asked in surprised when he had hurried nearer. He dropped onto the ground beside her.
"Do you know a frightening man on a white stallion?" she asked. If she started by saying he had forgotten his bread, he might speak back to her and she might not dare to mention the man on the horse anymore.
"I do not know of any in this neighbourhood -- frightening men nor white stallions. Where and when did you come across such a man?"
She pointed up to the woods. "He suddenly came up behind me and then he rode beside me, asking me why I did not bid him a good day. I did not know him, so I did not. Then I ran down here to get away from him and when I looked back, he was gone."
"He frightened you."
Anne nodded. Her hand dug into her apron when he gave her a kind look. "You forgot your bread."
His concern was not entirely pushed aside by feeling touched by her attentiveness and a small crease remained in his forehead. "I shall walk back with you."
"But your bread..." She had brought his bread so that he might eat here and continue working.
"I will eat my bread," he said with a smile. "But I really do not think -- no horseman went on down the road, so he must be in the woods. You should not go alone."
"But I am sorry to upset your workday."
"My work consists of letting other people work for me, Miss Cartwright. You must not feel concerned. Shall we go? Perhaps I should carry Thomas. He does not yet walk, does he?"
"I would have let you know, sir, because that is an important step."
"It is indeed and I am glad you will inform me of it when it happens. Has he shown any inclination?" He tried to make Thomas stand, but the boy's legs were still a little wobbly.
"Perhaps we could picnic?" Mr. Newman suggested when his son began to wriggle too much in his arms. "Let us sit. Thomas wants down."
"Here?" Anne looked around herself. There was no place to sit, unless they sat on the path itself.
He pointed left into the shrubbery and then ahead. "Up on that ridge that overlooks the way. Perhaps we shall see the frightening horseman and he will not see us. It is a good place. I have sat there before to make notes."
Anne looked concerned. She had seen the ridge on her way here. It was a sort of hill in the middle of the woods and the visible side of it was very steep. "Thomas will roll down."
"If we look away, but we shall not."
They climbed up and took a seat on a fallen tree trunk in the middle of a small clearing. Thomas was allowed to crawl, as long as he did not want to eat moss and twigs. It was indeed a perfect vantage point from which to oversee the path. They would not be visible unless someone thought of looking up.
"A horse!" Mr. Newman exclaimed. "Listen!" He picked up his son and gave him a piece of his bread to keep him quiet.
"But that is a lady. That is not the white stallion either," Anne noted as a dark horse with a dark rider flew past. She forgot to be shy for a moment. Not far down the path the horse suddenly jumped into the shrubbery, roughly at the same point where they had left the path. "Er?"
"That was the duchess. She knows the way. Listen! Another horse!"
"That is him!" Anne pointed in excitement as she ducked down. "Look!"
It was indeed a white horse and Mr. Newman stared after it for as long as he could. Contrary to the duchess, the mysterious man rode on. He did not know about the small path the duchess had taken. "I really do not know who that was. I have never seen him before."
"Sir Egerton Worm," said a female voice behind them, slightly out of breath from appearing behind them so quickly. "Pardon, Worle."
They turned at this startling sound.
The lady who had spoken removed her gloves to pull her bonnet straight. It had gone askew and she had to take it off entirely. "He is a worm."
"He frightened Miss Cartwright by following her."
"I can well imagine," the lady said. She gave Anne a quick look.
Anne had seen her once before, on her first day. This was the lady who had looked in when Mrs. Lewis had left her alone with Thomas for a while. She had smiled and not spoken. Anne had been very grateful for not having to speak back and she hoped the lady would not speak to her now.
"But you are acquainted with the man?" Mr. Newman asked.
"Everybody is always acquainted with rich widows. Even if they stay in the country." She sat down on the fallen tree as well. "I shall walk back with you when you do, Mr. Newman."
"I am the pied piper," he said cheerfully, but with a slightly mystified expression on his face.
Anne was a little confused about the lady's identity. It was evidently a rich widow entirely in black, but she was not fifty like the duchess who had ridden past. This one was fifteen years younger, she would say. There were no lines in her face and no grey in her hair. Either Mr. Newman had been completely wrong about the age of the duchess -- but how could he be so blind? -- or there were several such women riding around, one who had passed and one who was here now. But if this was the duchess, she was at least not Mrs. Black.
Anne hoped she would not be called upon to speak, for she did not know this lady, not really, and she would not know what to say to her. Fortunately the lady in black seemed more intent on redoing her hair than on conversing.
She watched from the corner of her eye and froze when Thomas first pulled at the bootlaces of someone who might be the duchess and then lifted her riding habit to peer underneath. He was a little rake in the making and Anne was too stunned by his behaviour to speak. Mr. Newman was on her other side and he saw nothing. It would fall completely to her to say something.
Although the lady was aware of Thomas, she did not do anything about him. Anne was reassured by the fact that the lady was not looking reproachfully at her, not yet, but of course she knew she must act because Thomas had happened upon something white underneath all the blackness and he was determined to pull at it.
She stretched out her hand, but the lady held her back with a reassuring smile. They watched together and Thomas soon abandoned his fruitless efforts.
Chapter Ten
After a while the extremely taciturn natures of his two female companions began to make Robert feel slightly uncomfortable. Perhaps they were no longer at ease, but when he glanced at each of them in turn, he saw no signs of discomfort. They were merely looking at Thomas. "Ladies," he said therefore. "Would it distress you very much if I spoke?"
Miss Cartwright looked as if he could not possibly have been addressing her and the duchess looked startled. "Of what would you wish to speak, Mr. Newman?" she asked.
"Of anything! This silence makes me nervous." He wondered if a duchess could not speak to a nanny and vice versa. She knew it was his nanny and yet she was not speaking at all. It might be disapproval of some kind, although she had approved of hiring her. It must be pride then. Nevertheless, she could condescend to say a few words of politeness at least.
"I like it."
"But would you object to my making conversation?"
"With yourself?" the duchess inquired, looking nonplussed.
"I --" He threw his hands in the air in despair. "I take your point, Your Grace. I shall talk to Thomas. He at least likes being spoken to." They sat down a little distance away and sometimes he glanced at the two ladies, but they seemed no more inclined to converse with each other than with him. He would leave them if he did not feel a moral obligation to see them home safely.
He had believed Miss Cartwright instantly when she had spoken of a frightening man. That he had seen this man with his own eyes, in pursuit of another lady no less, had only added to his concern. He could not allow them to go on alone. The stranger was evidently not deterred by one lady's escape; he simply moved on to the next target and he would do so again.
When he had eaten his bread he carried Thomas back to the ladies. He sat on the duchess' other side now. There was something he must ask. "Your Grace, why, if this man pursues rich widows, did he bother Miss Cartwright?"
"Must I really explain that to you?" she replied derisively.
Her tone did not encourage further questions, so he remained silent. It did not stop him from wondering what was so obvious. What did Miss Cartwright have that the man could want? After a few minutes he realised he had finished eating and that there was no reason to stay. "Would you ladies like to leave? I am at your disposal."
"Thank you kindly, Mr. Newman," the duchess said with a nod when they came to a place from where her home could be seen. She would not come to any harm anymore. She included Anne in her nod and then mounted her horse.
They watched as she rode away, not as fast as she had ridden before. "Well," he said, staring after her. "She is very strange. She told me she had met you before, but she did not acknowledge you at all."
"She did." Anne felt she had to defend the duchess here. It was not a strange woman. "She looked at me."
"But she did not speak."
"Not really." Not with sound, but Anne wondered what words could have added. She had not disapproved of Thomas and she had made that clear.
"Oh, well. If you are not offended by her manners, I can have nothing to say," he decided. "I was wondering if she felt it beneath her to speak to nannies."
"No, sir." She had not received that impression. In that case the duchess would not have smiled, but she had, twice already. Mr. Newman had said she did not smile, but perhaps this meant that his opinion was sometimes wrong. It had to be, given how he also thought she was fifty. "And I did not know she was the duchess until you said Your Grace." She would not have known what to say to the lady.
"But who else could she be?" he wondered.
Anne had wondered the same thing. Now that she knew who it was, there was another question that came to her. "How old is the duke?"
"Twenty-three."
She had thought it must be something like that, going by Mr. Newman's comments. "Have you ever looked closely at her?" she asked before she could check herself. Then she blushed for her impertinence. "I am sorry."
He was not at all offended by her question. "Why are you sorry and what should I have seen?"
"I think she is in her thirties. How could she be the same duchess as the duke's mother?" Perhaps it was his stepmother. That would make more sense. She could not really remember the duke's appearance.
Mr. Newman gave that some thought. "Clearly she is not in her thirties, because she is his mother."
She felt he was reasoning from the wrong end. "But -- but you have not looked?" The duchess was clearly not very old. Mr. Newman must not have looked. Although this was incomprehensible, it pleased her too.
"I think she is very strange. No, I have not looked. The black, you know, is very ... black. I try not to look too closely."
Anne bit her lip to stifle a laugh when she wanted to say there was colour underneath the black, which he could have known. It would not do, however. It would also not do to show she was pleased that he did not look.
Mr. Newman narrowed his eyes. "Are you making fun of me, miss?" he inquired with amiable curiosity.
"No, Mr. Newman. It merely would not be very proper to tell you what I was thinking."
He did not care about that. "I insist that you tell me what amused you. You must not keep your amusement to yourself. You can never think improper thoughts, because -- you cannot."
She smiled at his odd logic again. "The duchess may not approve."
"She is not here," he observed. "She will never know and she has no sense of humour anyway."
But perhaps the duchess had not said anything about Thomas because she did not want Mr. Newman to know about her undergowns. Anne doubted some more, but Mr. Newman continued to look insistent and pleading. She had to give in. "If you promise me not to tell her I told you."
"Upon my honour. I am discreet."
Anne raised her eyebrows. A discreet man would not have told the village everything.
He interpreted her expression correctly. "When I am not spreading nonsensical gossip, I am. Truly."
She had to believe him. "Thomas discovered there is white underneath the black clothing."
"Thomas," Mr. Newman repeated. "How?"
"Why, he lifted her skirts, sir." Anne did not know how else he could have discovered it, sitting on the ground.
"Oh. My wickedness pales in comparison! I have never done such a thing myself. But I never heard you berate him," he said with a curious look. "Why did you not? It is not exactly the sort of behaviour I would encourage."
"She stopped me. What should I have done?" She looked doubtful. She could not have gone against the wishes of the duchess.
"If he keeps on doing this as he grows older, you may have to interrupt." Mr. Newman lifted Thomas into the air. "You must not peek under skirts, Thomas. Only bad boys do so."
"They do?" Anne could not stop herself from saying.
"Did you take your bath earlier?" Robert asked when they arrived home. Seeing the gate reminded him of the conversation he had had here.
"Yes, sir. I also took Thomas with me, but I might have to bathe him again." His hands and face looked dirty from crawling over the ground.
"Did you see me when I left? Standing here with two women outside the gate?"
She hesitated for a moment, as if she did not want to admit that she had been looking. "Yes, sir."
"One of them is very notorious. She asked me if you were not to do any domestic work, but I gave her no answer. I did not know what you had planned." He grinned. He had said some very good things to them, he thought. His parting shot had been especially brilliant.
"What would you expect me to do?"
Robert was taken aback by that earnest question. He opened the gate for them. "Nothing."
"But you cannot want me to be idle when Thomas is asleep. I have been doing small things. Yesterday when he was asleep, I made a drawing of the garden. It is on your desk."
He had not looked at his writing desk at all since Sunday, so he had not noticed. Yesterday evening he had had other things on his mind. "Very good."
Miss Cartwright hurried ahead to get the drawing for him, he supposed. He followed at a slower pace, since there was no hurry. He did not expect to be shown the drawing the instant it was mentioned. He took it from her and studied it, keeping it away from his son's grasping hands. "This --" he managed, staring at the perfectly detailed drawing of Thomas climbing a fence.
"Yes," she said hurriedly. "Do you see?"
"I see you draw very well." It was clearly his backyard and although he could only see the child's back, he could only assume it was Thomas. The surprising thing was to see Thomas climb a fence when he could not yet stand or walk. It must have sprouted entirely from her imagination.
"But do you understand it?"
"It?" He studied the drawing again. "What?"
She spoke very softly. "I did not want to be so impertinent as to tell you outright, so I thought I had best draw --"
He gave her a pointed look. How many times did he have to repeat himself? "You forget that I do want you to be impertinent. Tell me outright what I should understand about this drawing."
Miss Cartwright looked reluctant. "That you should not have such a fence. I had another drawing you should lay beside it, but it made me cry and I hid it." She rummaged in a book that lay on the desk and extracted another sheet.
This drawing depicted the same background, but the fence was different. The bars were not horizontal here but vertical and so close together that a child could not squeeze through. Robert could see two hands and a small face trying. "You cried?" he asked.
"I did. I felt so sorry for him." She turned the drawing over so she would no longer see.
Robert turned it back. "But you drew it that way! The child is a drawing! I see this is going to cost me some money if I do not make it a small enclosure, but small enclosures invite escapes. I shall calculate how much wood I need. Had you looked at the front fence?"
"Horizontal," Miss Cartwright murmured, as if she should not have looked at that.
He gave her a snort. "Mrs. Lewis said you were a ladylike girl, which I considered a superfluous qualification, not because you were not ladylike, but because all ladylike persons are girls. Now I must reconsider, because you do business as reliably as a man would, yet you cry at your own drawing."
She stood staring at him.
He was not aware of having said anything odd or uncomplimentary, so he stared back. "What did I say?" he asked at last.
"Are girls not reliable?" Miss Cartwright looked a little flustered under his gaze.
"I cannot say they are not. I know what I shall do," he said after a moment when he found himself unable to explain himself. "It is an excellent day for a bath."
"Should I prepare it for you?" she asked uncertainly.
"No need. I used to take it on Sundays because I was all alone then. I have always had to prepare it myself. But if you will keep all the Farrells out of the room I shall be much obliged," he teased, because he did not really think they would bother him. One of the girls was cleaning the windows and the other two Farrells he supposed were likewise occupied.
"Yes, sir. And Thomas will go to bed."
Thomas understood that, because he began to wail in protest. It made his father very proud. "He understands!" Robert said in awe.
"Of course," she said dryly. "But he will go. He must be tired. I...shall be in my sitting room, working."
"Downstairs," Robert negotiated -- or ordered. He was not certain of that, but he certainly knew he did not want her to avoid him when he was home.
"Why, if you are taking a bath?"
She had a good point and he had to think for a second. "It will get cold eventually and then I must come out. Could you have some tea ready when I am done? I shall have a quick cup and then take the pony cart to pick up some wood."
"I cannot prepare the pony cart. The pony does not listen to me."
This serious complaint made him laugh. "I am sorry."
Chapter Eleven
Anne sat downstairs at Mr. Newman's request, although it had required bringing down all her work. She had almost finished cutting the fabric for two new garments for Thomas. The boy had cried for a few minutes after she had put him in bed, but then he had gone quiet. Perhaps that was what Mrs. Black had meant, she thought as she worked. He would not always know what was best for him.
She was completely engrossed in her work and forgot to make tea. Katie Farrell was cleaning the windows right behind her, but Anne had barely noticed. She was not so uncommonly accomplished with the needle as to be able to look around as she worked, not to mention that this was her first project here.
Mr. Newman returned, bringing the tea tray, and Anne blinked. "Oh, tea," she mumbled. "I forgot."
"I did not," he said pleasantly, not sounding as if he minded. "But everybody else is working so hard."
Anne pushed her work aside to make room for the tray. She got some tea cups from the cabinet and wondered where Mr. Newman had found the biscuits. "Biscuits?" she asked.
"We have a biscuit fairy. Did you not know?"
"No, sir." She did not know what a biscuit fairy would do. Bake biscuits?
"She replenishes the biscuit tin when it rattles."
"Rattles?" Anne did not understand. Having to ask all these questions did not make her feel very clever.
"If it is empty, you put some coins in it and soon it will have turned into biscuits," he explained.
"I confess I have not looked in many tins yet. It is only Tuesday." She had only arrived on Friday. It seemed longer ago than that, but surprisingly it had only been a few days. Before she had left she had wondered how long it would take her to feel comfortable. She would never have been able to guess, although she had almost known for certain that she would not miss her aunt.
"Of course. If you have only looked into a tin a day you may have missed the biscuit tin until now," he agreed in a perfectly serious manner. "Perhaps you would have found it tomorrow."
Anne watched as he placed a cup for Katie in the window sill. His hair was wet from his bath and it looked different. She cast down her eyes when he turned. On no account must she be caught staring in such a curiously impertinent manner, or he would again ask if he looked strange.
"Not for you, is it?" he asked as he fingered the fabric. "Seems too small."
"For Thomas."
"And how is your own wardrobe?"
She thought she understood his question. He would want to know whether she had made use of what was in the closets. She had not worn any of the gowns yet, but it had looked very tempting to start using some of the stockings and shifts. She could almost bring herself to do so. "Sufficient, sir." She would not have to buy anything.
Robert took the cart to the river. He would first take another look there and then drive on to get some wooden poles. He would need those in any case, regardless of the type of fence he would end up making.
"Your wife and son, sir?" asked the foreman.
"Who? Oh, earlier?" He wondered what to answer, but perhaps it would not be noticed if he only answered with regard to Thomas. The workmen were not from here anyway and they would not care for the entire story. They would only start asking questions if he said it was not his wife. "My son is a little over a year old."
"A fine little boy."
"Yes," Robert agreed proudly. "He might soon begin to walk and talk! By the way, did you ever see a man on a white horse?"
"Yes," the foreman nodded. "Not long after you left one came by. He asked us if we had seen a woman on a horse. We had not, so he went the other way."
"Not back to where he had come from." Robert would have seen him pass by in that case. They had sat on the little hill for a while, long enough to see the man return.
"I do not know from where he came. He went that way." The foreman pointed to the path that went along the edge of the forest.
That made sense, Robert thought, and it would explain why they had not seen the horseman return. The man would obviously have seen that Her Grace had not gone straight on and that she had not crossed the bridge either. The open countryside ahead would have made that all too clear. As far as the man knew, she could only have gone one way. He had been intent on following her then. That was strange and troublesome.
He reflected on this for a while as he studied the progress on the bridge. He did not know much about the technical particulars of such constructions, so all he could do was watch and hope it was going well. It seemed to be.
The strange man was a cause for concern, however. What would he have done if Miss Cartwright had not been near the bridge? If she had been on her way back, for instance? Her Grace had implied that he should have known, but he had not quite understood why a man chasing the duchess for her money would take any interest in a girl carrying a baby and wearing an apron. Clearly she was not rich. It must be for another reason then. They only had in common that they were both female.
He shuddered. The duchess had had every right to be derisive, given how wicked he claimed to be. Evidently he was not. He would tell Miss Cartwright not to walk so far anymore until he knew more about that man.
When he had watched the work long enough to see some progress, he went on to Mr. Watts' workplace. Watts would have some wooden poles for him.
Mr. Watts had some advice about fences that was comparable to Miss Cartwright's. It amused Robert. "My nanny said so too," he commented.
This gave Watts pause. "Your nanny?" he asked, as if he had never heard of such a person.
"I have a nanny. I have had her for a few days now," Robert answered with an innocent look. He could not believe that this news had not reached Mr. Watts. It would not surprise him if that news had already been spread on the day of her arrival.
"I know you do, but --"
Robert's innocence increased. So it was something else! Could it be related to her having said something? Perhaps the news of her shyness had also spread. "Oh, I thought you were surprised to hear I hired one, but the wet nurse said that --"
"No, no, I was not surprised at that, for I heard it in the village, but it surprised me that your nanny would have anything to say about fences. She is a girl!"
"I do believe she is," he agreed. It was not his nanny in particular who was not expected to talk then, but any girl.
Mr. Watts looked baffled. "But girls cannot have any opinion on these matters."
Of course girls lacked all common sense, which was all she had betrayed, not an extraordinary knowledge of carpentry. "Perhaps it would reassure you that she did not advise me as to the type of wood I had best use."
"Now that would be something!" Mr. Watts clearly thought that such a thing stood no chance whatsoever of happening. Girls knew nothing about his business.
"Would you offer me money to have her as your apprentice in that case?" Robert wondered. He did not think he would accept such an offer, but Watts was not likely to make it.
Mr. Watts began to laugh uncertainly. "You are jesting. I know you are, Mr. Newman. You only mentioned your nanny to boast about your conquest in case I had not yet heard about her. I do not believe for a second she had anything to say about fences."
Perhaps in a sense he was boasting. This realisation made Robert snort at his own motives. He could well have left Miss Cartwright out of the discussion altogether, that was true, but he had simply had to mention her because she had said something admirable. He could at least laugh at himself. That was fortunate. "All right, so I jest," he said. Watts would not understand any other response. She was a girl and she could not possibly know anything about this subject. That was unalterable, as far as Watts was concerned.
"I knew it!" The other man looked proud of his insight.
Anne could see Mr. Newman approach, so she lifted up Thomas and she went out to the side of the house where he would leave the pony. She saw he had brought some wood already. It could never be enough, but perhaps this was as much as he could take in one trip. She stood by the pony because Thomas pointed at the animal.
"It was a little amusing," Mr. Newman said. "Mr. Watts advised me to make vertical bars and he did not think you could have told me the same because you are a girl."
Anne looked back at him for a second without answering. Then she spoke. "But were you not surprised at first yourself?"
"Perhaps that was why I thought it amusing," he said reflectively. "Although I never considered it as much of an impossibility as Watts does. He thought I mentioned you because I wished to inform him of my wickedness in a sly manner."
"Oh." Anne contemplated the fact that she had not been mentioned for that reason, but very likely for no sly purpose at all. She recalled Mrs. Lewis telling her that Mr. Newman had called her clever. Perhaps he had done so again. It was both flattering and disconcerting. "How odd."
"What is odd?"
"That --" She recollected herself. "That he would think such a thing."
"Indeed. Why would I resort to slyness with Watts where I employed absolute openness with everybody else?" He gave her a grin that was far from sly.
"Yes," she answered cautiously. It would indeed be odd if he suddenly abandoned that honesty.
"But he would never understand me, so I let him think that I was simply boasting."
"Of me?" Anne nearly exclaimed. She could not believe it.
"I could not begin to think why," Mr. Newman said dryly. "Could you?"
She gave him an alarmed look, but he did not appear to be serious. It was equally alarming to think he was not serious, so she did not know what to feel. She quickly changed the subject, although it required speaking up. "I was in your shed, sir, and I had an idea..."
"If you dare to mention it to me, it must be good."
"I do not know that. I thought...like fishnets? You would only need to buy much rope." She looked hesitant, uncertain if he understood her. The fishnets might have confused him. "I made an example in a flowerpot with wool. It would be cheaper, but I am not sure it cannot be climbed."
Mr. Newman stared back at her for a few seconds. Then he hid his mouth behind his hand and ran inside.
Anne did not know what possessed him. She followed uncertainly. Thomas protested loudly against leaving the pony, but she could not give in to him now. His father was more important. "Did I say anything strange?" she asked timidly when she found Mr. Newman stretched out in his favourite chair. He seemed to be smiling.
"What do you think?" he asked.
"Perhaps it was a little incomprehensible," she said, wrinkling her nose. He could not have understood about the fishnets, because she had not yet explained the matter.
"No." He shook his head and got up quickly. "No. You would be wasted on -- on quite a lot." He touched Thomas' nose and then hers with his fingertip and then moved into the kitchen.
Anne gave Thomas a bemused look. Nobody had touched her nose before as far as she could remember, but if one did so to Thomas it signified he was adorable for some reason. She could not be the same.
It was a form of touching, she supposed, but it would fall into the same innocent category as patting the pony. He would say he did the same to Thomas -- which she had witnessed -- but it could not be because they were both good, since Thomas had not done anything. She had no doubt it was innocent, but that did not mean she understood it.
Chapter Twelve
"He wanted Mama to be his mistress!" the duke said indignantly. "My mother! He must not touch my mother. So I shot him."
Robert did not know what to say. He had come to the manor to deal with estate business in his office, alone and preferably without any disturbances because he was a little later than usual. Before he had come here, he had gone into the village to settle his account with the baker's. Miss Cartwright had refused to join him, suddenly claiming that she had to do something or other with Thomas. He had forgotten what and he expected that she had as well. Perhaps she was afraid he would say something about her in her presence, after hearing he mentioned her to others. Although he did not think he would embarrass her, he did not blame her for being afraid of it.
Instead of leaving his steward quietly to his work and his private thoughts now, the duke had burst in with the shocking revelation that he had shot a man. It could only be that worm of whom he was speaking, for it would be too large a coincidence for two strange men to show up in the neighbourhood to chase the duchess.
"Mama does not approve of mistresses. I know she does not. She does not know that I..." The duke considered his words, glancing over his shoulder to see whether she was not eavesdropping. "I have a lady set up in town, but it is not quite the same."
Robert did not know why it was not. He had best not react, even though he was quite shocked. He was merely the steward and he should allow His Grace to come to the end of this account without too many interruptions, but certainly without criticism. Setting up a lady in town was the duke's private business and it would have nothing to do with the estate. Shooting a man might have worse consequences and that was on what he ought to focus. Both matters were shocking, however.
"It is not the same," the duke continued. "I rescued my angel from men like this one. This man had followed my mother and when he believed himself alone with her, he tried to embrace her against her will. She hit him and I, who was following them in secret because she had told me about him and I thought I should protect her, I then shot him."
"Is he dead?" Robert could risk an interruption to ask that question. It was an important one. No doubt he would be called upon to solve whatever problem had arisen, but there was very little he could do in the case of a murder. He was not certain he wished to be involved in hiding dead bodies -- but perhaps his wishes did not matter, for if he did not help, the duke might land himself in so much trouble that he would not have a need for a steward again.
"No, I shot him in the arm," the duke said with a dismissive gesture.
Robert was appalled anyhow. The man had tried to embrace the duchess. He visualised that. Who would think of firing in such a case? "You could have shot your mother!"
"I am a good shot. I aimed for the arm because I knew better than to aim for his heart. I do not want to be a murderer."
"And what will you do now? Will this man take action against you?" In other words, what was he expected to do about this?
"I think not," the duke said confidently. "I was merely protecting Mama and she will support me. I am just a little shaken up and I had to tell somebody."
"You had best not tell anybody else," Robert advised him. "Certainly not your friends. Treat it as a private family affair." He had no idea what to do, but perhaps he would not be required to do anything if nobody ever came to know of the incident.
"You do not think too highly of my friends," the duke said shrewdly.
Robert was surprised. He did not think he had ever betrayed his opinion of Daniel's friends. "They are young. Not all of them may realise how serious this is. Do you?"
"I suppose so," was the unconvinced reply.
"I doubt your mother would like it very much if you told other people about this incident." Perhaps such an argument would work better. Mama's opinion carried a little weight with Daniel, although not as much as ought to be the case.
"True." The duke considered it. "I shall not tell anybody then."
"Are you certain the man will not do anything? I cannot imagine he was very pleased that you thwarted his plans, by injuring him no less." Robert did not feel any confidence in this regard.
"Well, honestly..." His Grace paused to think. "I do not have a habit of randomly shooting people, so that he would not accomplish much if he accused me of that. Besides, Mama will support me and say she was attacked."
Robert remembered there were three people who had witnessed the man chase the duchess the day before. That was a relief.
"I told him he might need to revise his methods," said the duke. "Because he cannot expect ladies to acquiesce in this manner. And he should not try again with my Mama because she forever despises him. I expect he listened."
Thomas was crawling around upstairs again when Robert arrived home. He assumed the boy had escaped, since he was not wearing anything. He watched for a moment, but then Thomas crawled back into his room and he continued on to his own. It did not take long before he had company there.
It was only his dog, Minnie, and he did not mind that she lay down on the carpet to watch him, although he forgot to close the door behind her.
"Da!" Thomas cried suddenly, making his presence known. He sat by the bed and tried to pull himself up.
"Thomas, you are still not dressed," his father observed. He would think it chilly, but his son did not appear to care.
Thomas stood and fell, but he did not care about that either. He babbled to himself and tried again.
"Miss Cartwright?" Robert called. He did not think she had suddenly become so negligent as to have let Thomas escape. Very likely she was very nearby. Perhaps she should dress the boy before he piddled on the carpet.
She proved him right when her voice came from very nearby. "Yes, sir?"
"Are you behind the door again?"
"Yes, sir."
"Had I not told you to chase Thomas?" While she was quick enough in other, more important matters, he kept having to repeat his orders about impertinence.
"Yes, sir, but you have just come home and you might be changing."
He had already changed from his work trousers into a cleaner pair. She could safely come in, although she could not know that until he told her. "Yes, but --"
"I can see Thomas from here, but not you," she cut in calmly. "I am watching him."
Robert raised his eyebrows at having his sentence interrupted. He quite approved, also of her standing her ground. "Do come in. I am more decently dressed than Thomas." He failed to see why she could chase naked infants, but not have a conversation with a tolerably dressed man.
"Anyone would be!"
"Come in, I said." If she began to interrupt and utter impertinent protests it was even more important to speak to her instantly. He gestured at the bed when she entered. "Sit. I have something I need to tell you. The duke shot the man on the white stallion after he attacked the duchess."
"Shot!" She looked as shocked as he had been -- at his story, not at his appearance, he supposed. Perhaps that was why she was very slow in assuming a sitting position.
"In the arm, but he believes it was enough of a deterrent."
Miss Cartwright was finally seated. "What did he do to the duchess? Was she hurt?"
He realised the duke had not said if she was hurt and he had not asked. He should have and he looked uncertain. "No, I believe not, or he would have told me. Not physically hurt, at least. She must be a little shaken up from the encounter nonetheless. Her son was. He said the man tried to embrace her against her will. Miss Cartwright..."
"Yes, sir?"
"The duchess disapproves of mistresses...the duke disapproves of men trying to take his mother as mistress...yet he has one himself and his mother does not know about it." Precisely why he shared this with her, he did not know. Perhaps he wished her to say it was as illogical as he felt it was. There was something about it that did not sit well with him.
"How do you know he does?"
Robert ran a hand through his hair. "He told me. It is not the same, he said. I do not know what to think. I confess this preoccupied me to such an extent that I even forgot to inquire whether the duchess was unharmed. This bothers me now. Should it not have been my main concern, since she was attacked?"
"Perhaps it was clear from the story," she tried. "Perhaps there was too much to bother you at once. It is quite shocking."
"I should have expected it of him -- the angel he says he rescued -- but still it shocked me." He shook his head. "He thinks it exciting to taste of forbidden fruits."
"What are those? In this case?"
"Things his mother or others will have forbidden. To some such forbidden fruits taste sweeter. Is that not always so? And he had been following this man in secret, for which we can only be glad, given the conclusion. Do you not remember when we were boys..." They had always gone where they were not allowed to go, to see why they were not allowed.
"Who?" Miss Cartwright asked after a moment. "Me, Mr. Newman?"
Robert gave her a startled glance. "I forgot that you might not have been a boy. Still, you might have done it -- climbed over gates and walls that were meant to keep you out. The duke is doing the same, but on a less innocent scale. I am wary of such arrangements. It seems altogether too easy to break such a thing off. If there was true love they would want to stay --" He stopped. They would want to stay together until one of them died? That did not always work either.
"But Mr. Newman..." she said after a while.
He looked back at her. She should not stop speaking. "Yes?"
"But...I am not sure I would have chosen the proposal of a man I did not love over working in this...peculiar arrangement here." She blushed for having to call it thus. "And his angel -- perhaps other people would consider me more respectable and perhaps happy in the first case, because they would not know that you are only saying you will corrupt me -- would she have had a choice? Perhaps not and in that case..."
"You are quite right," he decided after a moment, although she was thinking of the woman in the situation and he of the man. "And who is to say I may not do the same thing if circumstances require it? I forgot for a moment that I told you that you may ask for anything if you wish to leave here. You may even ask to be set up in a house of your own! And I should be perfectly capable of justifying the rightness of that to myself as well." His amusement began to return.
"I do not know if I would choose that," she said, looking a little frightened of something. "I think I like having an employer to do business for me. I would not want to do my own business and talk to people."
Robert had to laugh at her. He could not help himself. "You have an employer to do business for you!"
Miss Cartwright blushed even more fiercely now. "But you will talk for me, Mr. Newman. That is what I mean."
"You talk very well on your own." He did not think he had run many errands for her so far. It was true he had brought home some jars and baskets he had bought from farmers, but that was because she would not yet know who sold what and where.
She shook her head furiously. "No."
Thomas moved towards him and began to pull at his trousers, issuing a command that sounded very much like up. Robert was too stunned to obey. He kept looking down at his son, who was beginning to frown in frustration because he could not yet climb and nobody was listening to him either.
"He said up, sir," Miss Cartwright remarked.
"Then it was not my imagination!" Robert lifted him onto his lap. "What did you say?" he asked, but now that Thomas had achieved his goal he did not see any reason to repeat what he had said. "And why is he not dressed?"
"He did not want to be dressed."
Robert got to his feet. "Come, Thomas. You must be dressed before you leave your droppings all over the house, or all over me for that matter. He has done that before. Has he done so to you, Miss Cartwright?" Perhaps she had known that he might, something that had never occurred to him until it happened.
"No, sir."
"Why not? That is very unfair. I am his father." He carried Thomas into the nursery, but stopped when he had crossed the threshold, looking behind him. "Am I dressed, Miss Cartwright?"
"Yes, sir, but..."
"You are in a peculiar mood today, miss," he said appreciatively, although he wondered what was wrong with his attire. "Another but!"
"I wonder why you wish to be contradicted," she grumbled, holding out her hands for the little boy.
© 2006 Copyright held by the author.