Chapter 12
There was, fortunately, no sign of rain.
If it were raining, Sister Abigail would regretfully insist that the outing be postponed. It was too much of a risk, she would add. Besides the practical concerns of muddied clothes and wet sandwiches, there was also the more dangerous possibility of slippery ground and children catching a cold.
Twice a month, Thalia and Mabel ventured out to the Park with a handful of children from St. Sarah’s to eat a picnic lunch, play some games, and generally have fun.
Thalia, of course, supplied the picnic hamper and any games they might play.
The nuns, in turn, carefully made sure that each child had a chance at the treat, as it was generally known, and that they arrived for their outing washed, brushed, and generally gleaming with cleanliness and excitement.
This time, Thalia left the lugging along of the picnic basket to poor Mabel while she herself carefully carried a rectangular, lidded hamper with a wide weave.
Today was extra special because it was Alex, Nicholas, and Sophia’s turn to enjoy the treat. They were all ready at the door in their Sunday best, with Sister Abigail standing behind them.
“Good morning, Lady Thalia,” she greeted. “There are leftover boiled potatoes from supper last night. One each—I have taken the liberty of folding them in wax paper. You’ll find them in Nicholas’s pocket.”
“How kind of you.” Thalia smiled. “We have something for you, Sister. A spare scone. There is jam and cream in little pots. Mabel, would you?”
Mabel wobbled a little further up the front steps and lifted the lid of the picnic basket.
“Help yourself,” Thalia added.
Sister Abigail smiled. “That is remarkably kind of you. However, with your permission, I’ll give it to two of the sisters. I intend to split it between them. They are leaving us, you see. Sister Ethel and Sister Doris.”
Thalia’s smile fell. “What? But how on earth will we manage without them? Poor Sister Ethel managed the infirmary all by herself, and Sister Doris… well, I’ve never once seen her sit down.”
Sister Abigail shrugged. “It is not my decision. Or theirs, for that matter. The board wants to cut costs, so two of the sisters are being sent away. More will follow, no doubt. We will manage as we must, but I suppose that explains my rebellion with the potatoes. They ought to have been saved, not given away.”
Thalia nibbled on her lower lip. She glanced over at the children, vaguely aware that she should not be discussing such matters in front of them. But she did not know when she might see Sister Abigail again. The nuns were so busy.
“This is unfair,” she said. It sounded childish.
Sister Abigail gave a grim smile. “I am inclined to agree, but we can do nothing about it. The decision, as I said, is not ours.” She leaned forward, taking out a single scone.
“Take two,” Thalia urged. “I’ll go without. And don’t forget the jam and cream.”
Sister Abigail gave her a tired smile. “You are remarkably kind, Lady Thalia. Your patronage does us so much good, I can hardly count it all up.”
Thalia paused, glancing uncertainly around, then leaned forward. She whispered so that only Sister Abigail could hear. “If you can hold on for another month, I may be able to help more than ever before.”
Sister Abigail smiled fondly. “You are kindness itself, Lady Thalia.”
“Yes, yes, you’ve already said that. What I mean is that I may be coming into some money.”
The nun frowned. “I… I have heard rumors that you are to wed soon, Lady Thalia.”
“I shan’t be marrying. Disregard any rumors you hear.
It is true, my brother intends for me to marry, and I…
I cannot risk ruining my family’s reputation.
I owe my family that at the very least, even if my brother…
” She bit the tip of her tongue, swallowing hard.
Best not to drag Jonathan into this. “I won’t be marrying.
My money will be my own. And when I have it, you shall all benefit.
The board will take me much more seriously as a patron once I have my own funds to contribute and am not simply relying on the allowance my brother gives me. ”
She wasn’t entirely sure what she had expected from Sister Abigail at this revelation.
The nun blinked slowly, nodding. “You are generous,” she said. “And you are so determined to do good. But despite our best efforts, Lady Thalia, we cannot hold back the tides.”
“I don’t intend to hold back the tides. I intend to divert a river.”
Surprise crossed the nun’s face. “We shall see.”
Thalia felt a pang of annoyance. Sister Abigail clearly did not quite believe in either her coming money or the power she would wield once she had it. Well, that was fair enough. Single women did not have influence, not unless they had a great deal of money. Which, of course, Thalia did not.
Yet.
“Well,” she said, “I suppose we should get going.”
Sister Abigail nodded, drawing back, and the little group set off.
Nicholas and Alex fell behind, chattering excitedly to Mabel, and Sophia walked silently alongside Thalia. After a moment, Thalia glanced down at her, lifting her eyebrows.
“You seem preoccupied,” she observed.
Sophia bit her lower lip. “Sister May said that I was not to trouble you with it.”
“Well, now you must tell me, and I promise I shan’t tell Sister May.”
Sophia let out a deep sigh. “My friend Hannah was sick with the flu for the last treat day,” she mumbled.
“I asked if she might come today instead since she missed it, but Sister May said no. She said that you would have brought supplies for the number coming along, and it was not fair to expect you to bring more.”
“Ah.” Thalia nodded. “I see. I did miss poor Hannah. I understand she’s recovered now?” She received a nod in reply. “Well then, we shall set aside some food for you to take back to her.”
Sophia blinked up at her, all childish innocence and confusion. “But I don’t understand, Lady Thalia. Why could you not bring more food? You could take lots of us at once. We would all be very well behaved. I would see to it myself,” she pronounced.
Thalia bit back a wry smile. “That is a good suggestion. The thing is, I have to use my allowance to bring the food for our treats. And I… my allowance is not very large.”
That seemed to baffle Sophia. “But you are a proper lady. Everyone says so.”
“Yes, but I do not have much money of my own. My brother has it all. He gives me my allowance.”
Sophia seemed to consider that. “And… and he would not give you any more?”
“No, he would not.”
He thinks that my time would be better spent elsewhere. He resents the money I spend on books and treats and patronizing the orphanage. He would give me no money at all, I daresay, if Papa hadn’t stated in his will that I was to receive an allowance.
There was no need to tell Sophia that, of course.
After a moment, the little girl glanced up anxiously at Thalia. “Lady Thalia, am I being ungrateful?”
Thalia paused, frowning down at her. “Ungrateful? No, of course not. It is quite natural to be sad that your friend missed out on a treat, and it’s equally natural to want her to come along with you.”
Sophia shifted her weight from foot to foot. “Sister May said that I should not complain and that I was being ungrateful.”
“Well, Sister May does not think very much of ladies and their patronage. Through hard experience, I’m afraid. She believes that I will stop caring about the orphanage and all you children when I get married. She is wrong on both counts. I will never stop caring, and I will never get married.”
A faint smile curved Sophia’s lips, and Thalia smiled back, tapping her nose.
“Do you feel better?” she asked, and Sophia nodded. “Good. On we go, then.”
They reached their usual picnic spot in the Park, a flattish plateau on the top of a small hill. A rich green oak spread above them, and tall grass swayed around.
Mabel set out the picnic basket and began to unpack the food, humming to herself. Thalia settled down on a low boulder and set down the rectangular hamper.
“Now,” she said, smiling around at them, “none of you have asked what’s inside this basket.”
She had their attention now. The children settled around her, rapt, and waited.
She carefully opened the lid. At once, an orange tabby popped his head out. He eyed the children through sharp yellow eyes.
“This is my cat,” Thalia announced. “His name is Orange, like those lovely fresh fruits you all get at Christmas. He’s a terrible troublemaker and has a habit of scratching expensive furnishings in our house. I love him dearly, you see,” she added, and the children all nodded in agreement.
“Might I stroke him?” Nicholas asked eagerly.
“You may. He’s unlikely to bite or scratch you, but like a dog, a cat has its own preferences and boundaries. Don’t be offended if he doesn’t want to be stroked right now.”
Nicholas scrambled over and hesitantly let his hand hover over Orange’s head. The cat tipped its head back to look at him and thoughtfully swiped a paw at the boy’s fingers.
Nicholas gave a squeak and stumbled back.
“Cowardly custard!” Sophia shrieked in delight.
“May I try?” Alex piped up.
Thalia nodded, and he inched forward. Gingerly, he offered his fingertips. Orange deigned to sniff them and then turned his head as if in resigned acceptance. Alex cautiously smoothed his fingers over the cat’s soft forehead and beamed with delight.
“He’s so soft,” he whispered.
“I’ve had him since he was a kitten,” Thalia explained. “He was a present from my stepmother.”
“Stepmother?” Sophia echoed, frowning.
“I don’t like stepmothers,” Nicholas stated flatly.
“When my mother died, my father got married again. My stepmother hated me and used to say so all the time. She wouldn’t let me eat at the dinner table with the rest of them.
I had to sit on the floor because she said that my table manners were bad.
She used to pinch me when Pa wasn’t looking and lock me outside, no matter how cold it was.
I heard her telling him that they could never be happy as long as I was there. ”
Thalia went still. Nicholas’s eyes took on a faraway look, and she held her breath, not daring to interrupt him.
“I kept thinking that Pa would say something,” he mumbled.
“But he never did. I knew my stepmother was going to have a baby because her belly got big. She had twins, a boy and a girl. A few days later, Pa took me in a stagecoach to St. Sarah’s.
I didn’t know where we were going until we got there, but he said that it was for the best because he couldn’t afford to feed more mouths.
I said that he should put the twins out, or her, because I had been there first, but he boxed my ears and left without saying goodbye. ”
Silence followed.
Thalia glanced over at Mabel, whose face had hardened.
“Well,” Mabel said when it seemed like nobody else was going to speak, “more fool them, that’s all I can say. You’re going to grow up and make yourself a fortune and have a fine family, Nicholas, and then they’ll be sorry.”
Nicholas smiled wanly.
Sophia inched closer, putting her head on his shoulder. Alex gingerly lifted Orange out of the basket and shuffled over to place him on Nicholas’s lap. Orange stood up on his hind legs and rubbed his head against Nicholas’s chin, purring.
The boy dashed a tear from his cheek, smiling bravely, and carefully patted Orange’s head. “I miss having a family,” he mumbled.
“The thing about family,” Mabel continued, handing out cups of tea, “is that a person can always choose their own. Oh, yes, you didn’t know that, did you?
Mothers and fathers and grandparents and siblings are all well and good, but you have people who feel just as close.
And perhaps in many ways, they might be closer.
Just you wait, Master Nicholas. You’ll have a family better than them.
They weren’t good enough for you; that’s all there is to it. ”
“Mabel is right,” Thalia said, throwing the maid a grateful smile. “Nicholas, thank you for telling us that. It can’t have been easy.”
Nicholas sniffed. “Well, I suppose not all stepmothers are so bad.”
“Oh, they aren’t,” Thalia assured him, leaning forward to tickle under Orange’s chin.
“Mine is called Augusta, and she’s exceptionally kind.
She got kittens for me and my brother. Jonathan’s is a black cat called Cinder.
She wanders whenever she pleases and doesn’t let anybody touch her except him. Orange is a little friendlier.”
“Do you always take him on treats?” Alex asked.
Thalia shook her head. “Only on this one because you three are my favorites. Don’t tell the others,” she added hastily with a pang of guilt. “Now, who wants scones?”
Everybody, apparently. They all cheered, and she watched them with a smile.
This is exactly what I needed. Something to stop myself from thinking about that wretched man and his wretched soft lips.
She leaned over to whisper to Mabel. “Leave most of my food, won’t you? I want it to go back to the orphanage. The nuns who are leaving and Hannah ought to have first pick.”
“Are you sure, My Lady? You can always share mine.”
“Nonsense, Mabel. You carried that heavy hamper all the way up here. It would be shockingly unfair for you not to eat any of it.”
Mabel chuckled, opening her mouth to say something, then paused, squinting down the hillside. “Look who’s there, my Lady. He’s definitely seen you.”
Thalia followed her gaze, and her heart immediately sank. There, at the bottom of the hill, was the Duke. Christian. He sat astride a large, powerfully built black horse and was indeed staring up at her with a blank expression.
Their eyes met, and a shiver ran down her spine.
Almost as if following some unheard signal, Christian slipped down from his horse, leaving the placid creature standing still, and began to stride up the hillside.
Panic bloomed in her gut.
What am I to do? she thought, swallowing hard, glancing wildly around.
It was ridiculous to be so afraid, but what could she do? Snatching up the children and making a wild dash for freedom seemed a trifle ridiculous, but at that moment, it was all she wanted to do.
Then all prospects of either fleeing or pretending to be asleep were gone. Christian reached the top of the hill, and all chatter ceased. All eyes turned to him, wide and questioning.
“Good morning, Lady Thalia,” he said smoothly. “What a pleasantly domestic scene. Might I join you?”