According to
Plan
Save for some remarks on the state of their game, the two men did not speak much. They enjoyed the game regardless, until a black figure stood in the doorway. Robert had no idea how long she had been standing there, but he suddenly perceived her and his startled movement alerted his companion.
"Aunt!" said the captain, straightening up and resting his cue on the floor.
"Should you not be in the ballroom?" she inquired.
"I detest dancing," he said, his tone curt. Evidently he could not be made to dance.
"You were not invited to dance, or to play billiards."
"I detest women as well," he said belligerently, as if he were not speaking to the one woman here he ought not detest.
Robert inspected his cue and wondered why the captain had been invited if it was not for the dancing. Perhaps it was something to do with women if he mentioned them. He supposed the captain was not married. His attitude pointed to the opposite and he would never be married if he kept playing billiards at balls. He was definitely not making the most of his time ashore.
"I invited you to keep an eye on your cousin," the duchess said rather angrily.
Apparently that surprised the captain as much as it did Robert. "Well, Aunt!" the captain exclaimed. "How am I to guess your wishes if you do not voice them?"
"And how am I to know you detest dancing and women if you do not tell me?" she shot back.
"Would you have forced me to attend if you had known?" he asked skeptically.
"No."
"Remember, I absolutely detest dancing and women." Captain Lenton studiously returned his attention to the billiards table.
"Julian..."
He muttered something under his breath which was not fit to be repeated. Then he turned back to her. "Yes, Aunt?" he asked with the utmost politeness.
"Please come this way to listen for a second," she requested. They spoke for a moment in lowered voices and then she went away.
"Let us play on," said the captain when he returned. "Apparently I am allowed to detest both dancing and women, since my aunt detests dancing and men." He raised his eyebrows in a puzzled manner as he spoke, as if this was the last thing he had expected to be told.
Robert was merely surprised that she gave her opinion so freely, not at what it was. He was already familiar with some of her ideas on men. "And do you not have to keep an eye on your cousin now?"
"I think she may choose to do that herself." He gave a shrug and took a shot at a ball. "I have always dealt more with my uncle. He would never have thought it necessary to supervise Daniel. I did not know my aunt held a different opinion." He still looked puzzled.
"With which of the two do you agree?" Robert asked. Whether the captain thought Daniel required to be supervised or not by anyone, he obviously did not think he was the man for the job.
"My aunt. That is perhaps not surprising to you, given that you work for my cousin and you must therefore be acquainted with him. He might be a little too enthusiastic about balls."
"He was quite enthusiastic when he forced me to attend, I agree, although I cannot make any predictions as to his behaviour at the actual event. I am inclined to think I should sooner agree with your aunt rather than with your uncle, however. She hired me. Against your uncle's will, I believe. But whether that agreement would be due to loyal gratitude on my part or insight on her part, I do not know." Insight in estate matters was not the same as insight in people.
Captain Lenton lowered his cue and stared. "Someone lied to me. Loss of face, hmm?"
"I beg your pardon?" Robert wondered who had lied and about what. It must be the person who had lost face, but who had that been?
"My aunt went behind my uncle's back, but of course he could never admit to such a thing. A man could not have his wife go behind his back," the captain philosophised. "Especially not my uncle. He thought my aunt was at his beck and call. But oh!" He snickered.
"She was not," Robert supposed. He had but rarely seen them together and he could only recall silence. That did not equal submissiveness, not in the case of the duchess, since she was just as silent on her own. He tried for a moment to compare it to Miss Cartwright's silence and submissiveness, but that was a slightly different type. She was of course in his employ.
"She was, I think," said Captain Lenton doubtingly. "But I suppose that if you keep your wife at your estate, you should not be too surprised if she develops an interest in it. But he lied to me. He told me he had thought it necessary to hire a steward. He did not tell me his reasons because I know even less than a woman."
"I do not wonder that you are not married if you think they know nothing at all," Robert commented, raising his eyebrows. He did not think they were by nature less capable of knowing anything.
"You misunderstand me, Mr. Newman," the captain said graciously. "It was my uncle's opinion that women know nothing and captains even less because they live at sea so much. As for my not being married, I should think it is easier to get married if you think they know nothing at all, for then they are all similar. Is that not so?"
That was indeed so, he had to admit. "They would only differ in looks in that case." Perhaps the captain's ideas were not as wrong as they had at first seemed. And perhaps the captain was even a little fastidious about the other qualities a woman might have, despite his declaration that he detested them. It was impossible to detest all of them, so he should not take that too seriously.
"Precisely. My aunt is not ugly and my uncle would never have married her for her sparkling wit and her lively disposition, now would he? So it is clear what was important to him. But he lied to me. It is always interesting to see why people lie. Her betrayal must have hurt his pride. Did he take it out on you or on her?"
"He was not cooperative," Robert said guardedly. He did not know how much he could reveal to the nephew. The family might always side together if they were attacked, no matter what they thought of each other, because they were family and quite a prominent one. "If he was here at all."
The captain leant on his cue. "Because he knew that you knew. Yes. I have observed such behaviour before in others. I have had both parties flogged for similar offences," he said thoughtfully.
Robert's mouth fell open. Both parties? "But you cannot mean to say you would have your aunt flogged!"
"Difficult, is it not?" Captain Lenton grinned. "Do I sound horrible to you?"
"A little." He had best not say how much. Although he suspected the captain of not meaning what he said, he was not entirely certain. Even if one would not truly flog, giving another that mistaken impression was rather bad as well.
The captain did not seem very keen on appearing soft or all too fair. "If my aunt were guilty of such mutiny on board, flogging would be an exceptionally lenient punishment."
"On board, yes! Not in real life, surely!"
The captain stoically kept on playing. "I told you, Mr. Newman, that captains know even less of real life than women do. They are excused when they make such comments, because they know no other life and in the life they know it is very necessary to be so harsh -- and does not everybody think his life is the only real life there is?"
"I --" Robert halted when he saw the duchess had returned. He hoped she had heard nothing, but from her expression he deduced that she must have. If she had not heard everything, she might well draw the wrong conclusion. He hoped she knew her nephew well enough to interpret his words correctly.
"Why would you have me flogged, Julian?" she inquired, looking pale.
He sat down on the edge of the billiards table and studied her. "Did he?"
The duchess waited a few seconds. "Why do you speak so callously of flogging?"
"I am callous."
"No," she replied.
"I thought I was. Mr. Newman thought I was."
Robert wished they would stop speaking, because their conversation made him uncomfortable. He could only guess who might have done any flogging, but he did not like that guess. It could mean he was responsible, simply by having been hired. He had slowly been moving towards the door, but he would of course have to pass the duchess before he was out of the room.
"Indeed," she said coldly. "Do not go, Mr. Newman. Despite what my nephew has been saying, I very much doubt he would have a lady flogged."
The captain continued to play billiards. It was not his turn, but Robert made no comment on it. He was not certain he wished to continue the game. "I do not want to know all these things," he muttered to the duchess.
She held out her hand to stop him. "Where are you going? You must play with my nephew."
"I have no wish to keep hearing how all of you detest the opposite sex and how it is apparently common in your family to hit or shoot people who do something you do not like," Robert blurted out. He might be the steward, but he did not think he could be forced to listen to their eccentricities or to be ordered to remain in the middle of their argument as a sort of accomplice for either side. "Some of us have different notions!"
"I know you do. That is why you must play with my nephew," she said surprisingly. "He is still young enough to change his mind."
Robert stared.
Captain Lenton managed to tip one of the billiard balls off the table. "Am I hearing you correctly? You wish for me to take over Mr. Newman's notions on women, whatever they might be? Well, I assume he does not detest or hit them. Aunt Julia, did you really think I was going to hit women or that I even approve of others doing so? What makes you think my opinions need to be corrected? At least I do not chase after the deuced creatures with my tongue hanging out."
She gave no answer, but her eyed widened at the image.
"I have but a fortnight and thus no time to think of the opposite sex at all," the captain said patiently. "We had such a pleasant game before you appeared."
"There are too many people in the ballroom," she said, looking away.
The captain handed Robert his cue again. "Here. We shall hit my aunt with the cue if she speaks up again."
"Julian!" she cried, visibly shocked.
"Do not take me literally." He said something to her that Robert could not hear, but it seemed to reassure her. "Are you on for another game, Mr. Newman?"
"I suppose. One more try." He hoped they would remain silent.
"We should hang a notice on the door. No women. And we are not talking about you either," the captain said as he placed the fallen ball back on the table.
Anne finally laid The Sinister Squire aside. She had to force herself to stop, or she would still be reading in the morning -- if it took her so long at all to finish the book. At the rate she was going she would finish the pile of books in less than a week, especially now that Thomas displayed such a patient interest in being read to.
He really was a sweet little boy, always good-natured and never fussy. It was so much more pleasant to take care of him than of her aunt. He did not have many means at his disposal yet, but she could tell when he was happy or amused.
Yes, she had been in luck, not only with her charge but also with her employer. He was a very kind man. She smiled when she thought he still had something to learn about the quieter type of ladies, but it was merely a matter of imagining himself in her place and he was not unwilling to do that.
Thomas protested when she tried to return him to his room, so she kept him with her. Mr. Newman would not mind. She hoped he would not be too preoccupied to check when he came back. How long did one stay at balls?
Chapter Eighteen
The game of billiards had continued in relative silence again, with only some comments that had nothing to do with women at all. Robert was glad he was not being treated to any more revelations about their family's eccentricity. He had been concerned in the beginning and he had played badly at first, but his skill had returned gradually when Her Grace remained a silent spectator. The duke had said she would retreat to her dark corner after dancing with him and that corner seemed to be here. As long as she was silent Robert was not going to mind much.
"We do not play billiards at sea for obvious reasons and I had assumed that my lack of practice meant you would beat me for certain," said the captain. "But you started out pretty badly. How often do you practise?"
Robert gave the duchess a quick glance, but she was not looking. He did not want her to think he often came here to play billiards when he ought to be working. He never came here with the intention to play, but sometimes his services were requested. "I played with your cousin last week, as we sometimes do."
"He is no fun to play with. Too good."
"Yes, he is." The duke had plenty of time to practise. He had very little else to do.
"Besides, he has the annoying habit of poking me with his cue and the last time it accidentally reopened one of my wounds." Captain Lenton realised what he was saying and he winced. "I am sorry. This must only confirm your opinion of our family, although the wounds were inflicted at sea and not by any of my relatives. Sometimes...I feel really old."
Old compared to silly young dukes, Robert supposed. Sometimes he felt that way too, but one could hardly say so with the duke's mother still in the room, as inattentive as she might be at the moment. He remembered Miss Cartwright's idea that the duchess was not the duke's mother because she was too young. He gave her a glance, but he still could not tell a lady's age -- and her head was bent.
"Are you free tomorrow evening?" Captain Lenton inquired.
"I am."
"Come and dine with me. Do you know where my house is?"
"It has been pointed out to me." He smiled at the assumption that if he was free, he must want to come to dinner. As it was, he had no objections and no other engagements, so he could easily obey the summons.
"Splendid. I had a fortnight and half of it is already gone. I am dining with the neighbours as a farewell again the day after."
Perhaps he should invite his neighbours again as well, Robert mused. He wondered what to do about Miss Cartwright and Thomas in that case. They would have to eat in advance. Or did one dine with nannies? Perhaps not if the child was so small. Somehow he thought that Miss Cartwright would not mind at all if she had to eat alone with Thomas. She might even choose that if he suggested otherwise.
He supposed he would have to leave her alone tomorrow evening then, because a captain who detested women could not possibly include her in his invitation. Since she had never met the captain she would again not mind, he thought. She would be alone for two evenings in a row, that was true, but did she really mind being alone?
The duchess had a reputation of wanting to be alone as well and she had indeed left the ballroom, but she had come to a room that had people in it, small though their number was. There had been plenty of rooms to choose from where she could have been alone. Instead she had chosen to remain in the company of two uncivil young men.
"Your Grace," he spoke up. She might know. Perhaps she and Miss Cartwright understood each other better than he understood either of them, in certain cases.
She looked startled by the address and raised her head. "Yes, Mr. Newman?"
"My nanny -- if I invited the neighbours, what would she prefer? To eat alone?"
Her expression was bemused. "Ask her."
"She is very likely to be too modest and think she is my servant." He did not think she would ever say she would like to join them for dinner. She might simply not reject an invitation.
"Would she be so very wrong?" That was the frightening duchess again.
That Miss Cartwright was his servant was not the point. "No, but would she dislike any number of people or would a small number be acceptable?" Perhaps two would be just within her conversational abilities, but four would be too much. One person was obviously feasible, since she could speak to him and to Her Grace, but not at the same time.
The duchess gave his question some consideration. "A small number might be acceptable. Why do you not ask?"
"I know what she would say. She would prefer to eat alone because..." He finished the sentence by gesturing. It did not matter. She would use any reason not to impose.
"So you must insist and see how loudly she protests."
"Thank you," he said, although he did not feel greatly helped. "Do you also happen to know why she feels that way?"
"No. I always see you together. I thought she was fond of company."
Captain Lenton looked as bored as he could politely be. "I do not wish to be rude," he said, although he made no move to use his cue on anybody. "But I thought we were going to refrain from talking about women. Nannies are women, you know."
"He knows," said his aunt, getting up quickly.
Robert's eyes shot daggers at her retreating back. He would have liked to ask what she meant precisely, because her tone had hinted at a cryptic meaning, but of course she left the room before he could. And what was that about always seeing them together and Miss Cartwright being fond of company? He suspected that remark as well.
"I think we should bar the door," said the captain.
"Your family are so friendly to each other. Could you not treat each other with a little more kindness?" Robert complained.
Captain Lenton guffawed. "I am fairly kind to her, but I will not make a show of it. I think she distrusts all too kind manners. I have observed more success with sarcastic honesty."
Robert first thought that was more succinctly called rudeness, but perhaps only a third party perceived it as such. However, when he remembered the conversation about cheap novels he thought the captain was probably correct. He had been afraid he would be dismissed, yet she had smiled.
Anne saw Mr. Newman only the next morning when she had gone downstairs for breakfast. He was in excellent spirits as he greeted her and she wondered if he had danced. He might have met a girl he liked. It was a rather unpleasant sensation to think of Mr. Newman dancing with one young lady after the other. Or was it worse to think of him dancing all dances with the same one? She could not decide between the two.
"No problems, Miss Cartwright?"
She started. Could he read minds? "Problems?" she asked, colouring.
"When I was away. Thomas was not in his bed when I came home. Because your door was open, I looked in to whether you were gone as well, but thankfully you were not. He seemed to be in your bed, as far as I could tell. Did he not want to sleep?"
"No, sir. But it was not a problem. He only wanted company and I read to him." She tried to remember why she had not put him in his own bed after that. He had protested.
"From The Black Witch?" he inquired.
"No, sir! From The Sinister Squire."
"Good lord!" he exclaimed humorously. "But seriously, is that amusing reading or is it all about frightening men on horses chasing women?"
"The squire has not yet done that, sir. He has so far only frightened his ward by having a scar on his face and by not saying anything."
"See how frightening that is!" he shot back.
Anne did think such a silly remark deserved an answer. It was not at all the same, which he would know!
"I must pick up The Black Witch because it all sounds riveting," Mr. Newman commented. "That reminds me -- I was so afraid she would speak to me about that book! I was glad she passed me without speaking. I felt completely like you."
"Completely?" Anne asked uncertainly. Evidently he thought it quite an achievement to have felt like her. It amused her a little and also that he had been afraid of being addressed.
"Yes -- or do you mean to say you are dying for people to speak to you because you know exactly what to reply?"
"No, sir." She could not truthfully say anything else.
"Well then!" he said with a smug look.
She gathered courage. "H-H-How was the rest of the ball?"
He gave her a grin. "I played billiards."
"Billiards?" That was the last thing she would have expected to hear. Billiards! It was not dancing. In fact, it could not even take place in the same room. It sounded as if Mr. Newman had not been near any dancers, nor near any girls.
"With the duke's cousin. He detests dancing, so we teamed up."
"Was that allowed?"
"He is family. He was forgiven."
Anne did not know why she was so relieved to hear it. She feigned she had to help Thomas so she could hide her face. "Is he like the duke?"
"Not at all. He is a very sensible fellow. I am dining with the captain this evening."
"At the manor?" She assumed the captain was the duke's cousin. It would be odd if he had suddenly started to speak of a completely different man. Mr. Newman was not that confusing.
"No, at his house in the village. I hope you will not mind. The captain does not have a long leave of absence. I shall not always dine with him. Just once."
"You need not --" Anne broke off. She was merely the nanny. He did not have to excuse himself to her. He could dine with as many captains as he pleased.
"Did you know, he is the first to invite me, but of course he does not know the gossip and I have not told him about it."
Mr. Newman had indeed not dined out, but Anne had not known that was because of her. She looked a little guilty for having limited his social activities.
"If I had minded..." he said in response to her expression. "I could have done something about it, I suppose, but I have not missed it. I have no close friends here anyway."
"Why not?" She had not wondered about his friends because she never had any herself, but other people did, now that she thought about it. Mr. Newman should have had friends. He was not shy and he could not be disliked.
"I suppose I did not feel the need. But Captain Lenton is a pleasant enough man, so I must dine with him."
"Of course, sir. You must go. He will be back some time I suppose and then he could be your friend. Does he not have a family here?"
Mr. Newman laughed. "A family! He is not averse to saying he detests women. Such an attitude will never get him a family."
"Nobody could detest all women," she commented. Why was he saying the same things as the duchess? She could not imagine girls chasing Captain Lenton -- girls did not do such things -- and so he could not have a proper reason for disliking them. "Would he detest me as well?"
Mr. Newman gave her a disturbed look, but he said nothing.
Anne did not understand him. "He would?"
"He could not possibly detest you and I think you are sensible enough not to be fooled by his manners. I shall not take you to see whether he likes you. I shall not take you to see any young men," he said in a firm voice.
Anne thought it best not to make further inquiries, although she was very tempted indeed. What did he think would happen if he took her to see young men? He seemed to think the captain would instantly want to start a family with her and she coloured at that idea. It was preposterous. It could not be so! Mr. Newman must be very afraid of having to look for a new nanny if he allowed himself to be seized by such silly fears.
Robert thought about the conversation. Miss Cartwright was probably precisely the sort of girl who could change the captain's mind. She was too sweet and sensible to judge him too quickly and he would not be able to fool her with regard to his character. This had been a disturbing realisation. He could not bear the thought of Captain Lenton beginning to like Miss Cartwright. He wondered why.
It would be very difficult to replace her. That was one thing. Yes, that must be it.
"Their lazy ways drive me to distraction," said Mrs. Black as she stepped into the house.
"Whose?" asked Anne, closing the door behind her. She had not expected a visitor, but she did not mind that Mrs. Black had come by. It must be for her and this secretly pleased her.
"Those boys. They might wake up right before dinner, but not much sooner. How is your work?"
She hoped she had got far enough for the time that had passed. "I made some good progress when it was raining. When it was not raining I did not, because we also have to make a fence. And all boys are up here. Would you like some tea?" She led the way to the tea pot, which she had just readied to indulge in a cup while Thomas was playing.
"Yes, please. That would be very kind. Who is making a fence and why?"
"I told Mr. Newman to make a fence because of the river."
"Did you now? That is quite clever of you."
Anne poured the tea. She did not think it had been extremely clever of her. Such praise was undeserved. It was merely the sort of common sense that was expected of her. "Is it not my task to keep Thomas safe?" She glanced at the little boy, but he was still playing quietly, looking up now at their visitor.
"Nee!" he cried, throwing a toy across the room.
"Perhaps it is. Did you not think Mr. Newman looked very fine last night?" Mrs. Black asked with the utmost innocence. She lifted Thomas onto her lap.
Anne's hand remained steady, although she wondered why she was being asked. "Yes, he did."
"And for what did he take the trouble, one might ask?" she said with a smile. "He was hardly in the ballroom at all."
"He said he played billiards."
"Yes, so my cousin told me. Apparently they did not want her there." This seemed to amuse her.
"I cannot imagine Mr. Newman saying so!" Anne said in consternation. He would not have been so unmannered as to send the duchess away from her own billiards room.
"Captain Lenton would."
She doubted. Of course he would be a likelier candidate than Mr. Newman, but it did not tally with Mr. Newman liking him. "But Mr. Newman said he was a pleasant man."
"You forget she is his aunt," answered Mrs. Black, implying that nephews could be more impertinent to them than other men.
Anne was still shocked. "I would never have dared to say such a thing to my aunt in her own house."
"And still your aunt wanted to be rid of you. Do you not think the character of the aunt matters in such a case?" Mrs. Black smiled again. "My cousin does not speak up very quickly. As such one could get away with many things, more than even her nature would allow."
Anne remembered that the duchess had said it was bad not to speak up. She must have some experience with the ill effects of not doing so, but it was puzzling how allowing one's nephew to be impertinent in front of others was not an ill effect.
Mrs. Black continued. "I do not know the captain well; he is from the Muncester side of the family and I am not. He may well be pleasant, but simply not want his aunt to listen to the talk of young men. Had you written to your own aunt where you are?"
"Yes, I wrote a short letter to say she needed not worry, although I am not sure she did." She had not really thought about her aunt, except to compare situations and to think herself considerably better off here. She had certainly not considered what her aunt might think. It was not somebody whose opinion she valued or needed at this point.
"Excellent. You did your duty. Were you her companion?"
"Unpaid," Anne said timidly, not sure whether she ought to resent that fact. Perhaps she ought to be grateful for having had a home. "Although Mr. Newman has not yet paid me either. He...gave me his wife's clothes and I think..." She did not have any right to remind him of wages now.
"Yes, what else could he do with them?" Mrs. Black reasoned.
Anne was glad she said that. It helped her accept it a little better. "I do not think I should ask for money now, since I shall not be needing it soon. Did you know his wife?" She had wondered, but she had never been able to ask anyone.
"No. I have never known him as anything but a widower."
"She was not a very quiet young lady, I think," Anne said hesitantly. "Since quietness seemed to puzzle him."
"Quietness is not necessarily worse."
"He does not like it," she observed, as objectively as she could. He always wanted her to speak more.
"What makes you think that?" Mrs. Black exclaimed.
"Oh, you must forget I said it," Anne blushed. She did not want to talk about it, because she was silly, thinking about his wife. "Really."
Anne had not seen much of Mr. Newman that day. He was home briefly to change his clothes, but he went on directly to Captain Lenton's house for dinner. He had not shown his clothes for her inspection today, but he wore ordinary ones. The captain would likely not care much.
She prepared her evening meal herself. It was too much now that Mr. Newman was not eating with them -- he had apparently forgotten to let Cook know he would not be there -- but Minnie did not mind the treat.
She closed the shutters on her own and locked the doors, doing all of that very early so she would know for certain there was nobody lurking outside. Then she sat upstairs and enjoyed the last light of the day in her room. Minnie and Thomas sat with her. There was not much she could do but keep an eye on them.
Minnie brought her one of Mr. Newman's shoes. "Take it back, Minnie," Anne ordered, but Minnie only went away to get another one. Thomas grabbed the shoes and began to play with the shoelaces. He loved it when Anne tied them for him so he could pull them loose.
She noticed with a wary eye that Minnie brought over everything she could find. Unfortunately, what with Mr. Newman not being very tidy, there was a lot that had apparently been lying on the floor of his room. In fact, it looked very much like all the clothes he had worn that day. He must have dropped them where he stood.
"Thomas," she said when she tired of their games. "Tommy? Anne wants to go to sleep." She also needed to put those clothes back where they had presumably come from, yet if she walked away from Thomas he would crawl to the top of the stairs.
"Anne," he said.
"Oh, say it again!" she cried, feeling very thrilled. She had heard that correctly. He had indeed said her name.
It was the first time he obeyed such an order. "Anne."
She gave him a cuddle. "Good boy!"
"Anne! Anne! Anne!" he cried, trying for more cuddles. Minnie barked; she did not want to be left out and she felt she had been rewarded far too little for her fetching efforts.
"Why did you choose to stay in this house?" Robert asked Captain Lenton when they were enjoying a glass before dinner. "You could have stayed with your cousin."
"And enjoyed the greater comforts there?" the captain mused. "Yes, I could have. Although this house no longer bears many traces of it, I lived here as a child. For a few years, at least. And my father left it to me. It was practically all he left to me. I ought to stay in it sometimes because one day I shall have no choice. Besides, I do not think my cousin feels very deprived if I stay here."
"If he has other company..."
"My brother spends more time there than here, but to him Daniel is a more agreeable companion than I am. They share the same interests. I do not mind it much. I am soon off to spend time with proper friends."
"Of the navy?"
The captain nodded. "I am prejudiced and I make no secret of it."
Robert laughed. The captain did not make a secret of any of his prejudices. "I do not think I could blame you. In the two years that I have lived here I cannot say I have come to form a proper friendship here myself." He had never stopped to think about it and it had surprised him that he was apparently as self-contained as Miss Cartwright. It could not be for the same reasons, since he was not afraid of people. Perhaps he had simply not felt the need. First he had had a new wife and then he had grieved for her. Neither condition had prompted him to seek friendships elsewhere, he supposed.
"None at all?" Captain Lenton asked interestedly.
"I have something in common with many of them, but never so much as to make them anything more than good acquaintances. There is appalling shortage of educated men under...er...fifty, but I am not good at guessing ages. Young men."
"I thought there were always boys my age, but I do not suppose there is much to do here for a young man with some education. What would I do here if I did not have a posting? A terrifying prospect!"
"I am sure you could occupy yourself. I think it is people's expectations as to your situation that terrify you," Robert laughed. He could find enough to do around the house or with his son. "You would be expected to get yourself one of those creatures you abhor."
"The worst thing is that I have heard those creatures expect all manner of things from a captain! I have friends who say their popularity rapidly increased after they were made captain, but -- let us not talk about them. What do you do around here exactly? I confess I am clueless about estates. Do you command it?"
As he walked home, Robert thought it was a pity that the captain was leaving the country for a few years. He would have made a good friend, despite his being clueless about estates. It made him think again about his lack of friends and what he required in one. The closer he came to his house, the more he felt he would not have to look very far at all. Who said they needed to be educated men under fifty? A woman would do just as well.
The problem with women, however, was that they might become somebody else's wife and then they would be lost. No, he should definitely not take her to see any young men.
When he came upstairs Thomas was in his own bed this time, sleeping soundly. That reassured him, for he did not want his dining out to be the cause of any trouble. He glanced at Miss Cartwright's door. He would not have to check whether she was in -- she would be. Where could she go indeed?
He pondered his apparent possessiveness. It did seem as if he had begun to like her. He had warned her that he might, had he not? And he had warned her things might happen as a result, but now that he found himself in this position, he was certain that he could not do anything without her express encouragement.
Miss Cartwright was unfortunately not the type to offer express encouragement. She was, in fact, more likely to look frightened and back away from anything that required her to reveal her thoughts or feelings. He would have to tread with care. The duchess' recent experiences were a distinct disadvantage as well. Miss Cartwright had been very shocked by what had happened and Robert did not want to do anything that could cause her to feel shocked by him. In short, embraces and chases were quite out of the question.
Chapter Twenty
"Miss Cartwright!" Mr. Newman called from his room.
Anne stood behind his door. She had not heard him come home last night, but when she had gone to put the kettle on she had seen he had returned. His boots were in the hall, kicked off carelessly as usual. "Yes, sir?"
"I thought we had agreed that you could come in."
"But that was when Thomas -- and he is not --" Thomas was still asleep or at least still in his bed. She got him out as late as possible in the morning, so that she would at least have the opportunity to dress herself in peace. Now, she had no reason to be asked into Mr. Newman's room.
"Come in," he said impatiently.
She entered, but not too far. She was barely over the threshold when she halted. "Yes, sir?" Fortunately there was nothing shocking to be seen. He was seated on a chair, pulling on his shoes, and this did not shock her in the least.
He left his shoes for a moment to look at her. "Do you mind giving your opinion?"
"A little," she admitted. It all depended, of course, on which subject she was asked to give her opinion and it would have to be asked. She would not give it freely.
"Do you mind my asking for it now and then?"
"No, sir." His asking for it did not mean she always had to answer.
"I thought you might perceive a difference there," he chuckled. "And would you mind coming in here for that purpose?"
"I suppose so," she said cautiously, not understanding entirely what he meant. "But how could I come in for that purpose if I do not know you wish to ask me anything?"
"Do you mind my abusing your coming in here for asking you something or other?"
"No, sir." She did not see why he could not ask her a question if she was already here anyway. It could not do any harm.
"I would like to ask you things when Thomas is asleep as well, but my conscience has so far forbidden me to place you in such a situation because I had promised it would not occur."
Anne was struck silent by the thought that he wanted such situations to occur regardless. She could only stare back, although he had spoken very seriously.
"I must save you from silence!" Mr. Newman said quite dramatically.
She had to smile a little at his silliness, but her smile was tempered by her confusion. The situations that his conscience forbade him from placing her in were a little distressing, because she had no clue as to their precise nature. His conscience would not forbid anything innocent.
"Would you talk more if I were not your employer?" he inquired. "Are modesty and subservience holding you back, or am I simply saying odd things?"
Anne blushed. See, he did not like quietness! He always wanted her to talk more. "If you were a stranger, sir, I should talk less."
Mr. Newman studied her closely, as if he hoped her expression would reveal more than her words. "Really? Are you certain? If I appointed you as more of an equal in the household, how much more would you talk?"
She stared. What would more of an equal be, precisely? She settled for the most modest interpretation. "Housekeepers still have to take your orders, sir, but perhaps they may be more impertinent than the governess."
"Housekeeper," he mused. "That does not sound very equal to me. I must go through with this now, however."
Anne grew even more confused. She did not suppose it could be anything terribly shocking, for he remained seated.
"Are you ever unhappy, tired or sick of Thomas?" Mr. Newman asked.
"No, sir." Of course there were sometimes moments, but they were brief. She did not think she was lying too much if she denied it. On the whole he was a lovely and sweet little boy. Mr. Newman must not promote her to housekeeper and hire another nanny. She would not like that. This, she supposed, was one of those instances in which she must speak up, as difficult as it was. "I do not want to be a housekeeper."
He looked astonished and perhaps a little disappointed. "No? Why not?"
"If you need a housekeeper, you should hire another one," she answered bravely.
"Is it ... beneath you?"
"Beneath me?" She was astonished now too, because she did not think she had ever given him the impression that she felt herself above anything. "I should not like the effects of such a promotion, sir. I want to remain as I am."
"But I never wanted you to be a housekeeper," Mr. Newman complained. "How did we ever come to speak about them? Would you have motherly feelings for Thomas?"
"I do not know how that feels, sir," Anne said truthfully. This was another confusing turn of the conversation. "Because I have never had a child."
"Would you like it if another woman came into the house to mother Thomas?" he asked.
"I -- I would simply have to accept such a thing," Anne croaked. She hoped such a thing would never happen. Precisely how many other women was he thinking of bringing into the house? Had he met one at the ball after all? A rich young lady who required a housekeeper to run her house for her? And what she supposed to do when all those women came?
"There will never be such a woman," said Mr. Newman, regarding her quite intensely.
Anne ran away because she did not know what else to do.
Robert thought he had scared her. He did not know what to do next either, so he brushed his hair, grabbed his hat and overcoat and walked out. He avoided the kitchen and his breakfast. She would be in the kitchen and he would have to speak to her if he went there. It was not very brave of him to avoid it, but he did not yet know what to say.
She wanted to remain as she was, yet she did not seem to have a clue what he wanted her to be. How then could she really want to remain as she was? How could she know his offer was not infinitely superior?
Yes, how could she know if he had not told her? As he walked to the great house, he tried to think of ways to enlighten her without shocking her too much. By the time he got to his office, he had come up with none that he liked. It had seemed so much easier in advance, when he had not reckoned at all with the power of uncertainty.
He had assumed he would know when he transgressed and that Miss Cartwright would know the same. In reality it turned out to be less clear than that. In fact, he could talk her out of seeing something as a transgression, after he had done the same to himself first. Where did that leave them? He did not think calling her into his room was one, but if it was not, then what was? Would it be something else he could justify with selfish arguments? And perhaps Miss Cartwright was by nature a gentle creature who would not see any ill in him and who would therefore seek to excuse any of his odder requests.
He did not know her feelings for him, yet coming by a wife because she did not have the heart to refuse him did not feel like a very attractive prospect. Would he do her character any justice if he thought she would accept him if he asked her? Yet she did not want to be a housekeeper, so she might also not want to be a wife. Why not, his mind screamed.
For a penniless nanny he was a good catch, especially with a view to the future. Thomas would grow older. He would at one stage outgrow a governess. If she did not want to stay here -- for whatever reason -- she would have to find another position. After a few moments Robert decided this sort of reasoning was absurd. She had told him herself she would not choose the proposal of a man she did not love over working for him, although when the future was even more miserable than the present one might act completely contrary to one's previous ideas.
He really did not know what she wished, or even what she would do when confronted with his wishes. Was he even certain of his own wishes? He did not want to lose her, but did he want to keep her at every cost?
Robert was hungry and ordered something to eat when he got to his office, but apparently this was considered rather odd, for it brought Mrs. Lewis in to see him.
"Breakfast?" she inquired. "Is anything the matter?"
"I simply forgot to eat," he said tersely. If he could not explain it to himself, he could certainly not explain it to someone else.
"Simply," she stated. "It is too early to remember already that you forgot."
"I simply did not want to have breakfast," he said, despite eating it now.
"Oh." Whatever conclusions she drew, she did not share them with him. She gave him a puzzled look and left him alone.
Robert was glad she went away and he focused on eating. It was not long before Her Grace and Mrs. Black appeared, together and seemingly of one mind. They were rarely out on joint missions and he felt justified in suspecting Mrs. Lewis of having whispered something in their ears. "Good morning, Your Grace, Mrs. Black," he said as politely as his suspicions would allow.
"Are you eating, Mr. Newman?" asked the duchess, who was definitely not one for artifice. "But you will just have had breakfast."
He decided to spare her the trouble of trying to act. "I am sure Mrs. Lewis informed you that I did not. Because I forgot. Why is this so interesting?"
"Are you certain you forgot?"
No, of course he was not certain. He had deliberately foregone it and they probably knew that. Why did they think there was a reason for it? "To what do I owe your concern?"
"You are badly dressed and you did not eat," said Mrs. Black. "What happened?"
Badly dressed? He was not aware of that and he gave his trousers and shoes an unconscious glance. "Nothing."
"We shall visit her." Mrs. Black looked at her cousin for agreement.
"I have no objections," Robert said indifferently, but he looked a little worried. He did not call them back as they went away, although he had to restrain himself. They would visit her. Her, as if they had no doubts as to where the problem lay.
© 2006 Copyright held by the author.