Chapter 20 #2
“You look marvelous, darling,” Persephone praised, which caused Corinna and Iris to proudly display how they had been dressed by their older cousins, who had clearly arrived well-stocked.
When Ezra saw how Iris visibly blossomed when Persephone offered the same praise to her tasting assistant that the duchess usually gave to her own children, he decided on two things.
One, he would encourage Hugh and Persephone to remain in his life, if only for Iris’ sake. He would even try to one day admit that it wasn’t just for Iris’ sake, that he might even like them himself.
Two, he would trust them with some very important information.
When the children had drifted away to some new, highly inscrutable game, he looked back at Hugh and Persephone, bending to rest his elbows on his knees.
“Iris told me something about her mother recently,” he confided. “Her name. Artemis Johns. Have you ever heard of her?”
Persephone shook her head at once, but Hugh frowned thoughtfully.
“You do know the name,” Ezra said.
Hugh shook his head, but it wasn’t a refusal. It was more like he was trying to shake the memory loose.
“I have heard that name,” he muttered, closing his eyes like that might help him remember more clearly. “It was… a long time ago. It was…”
His eyes popped open, a triumphant look on his face.
“It was Uncle Ambrose, talking with my father,” he said.
“Ambrose said something like, ‘The girl’s name is Artemis. Artemis Johns,’ and my father snorted and said, ‘It’s practically like Cornelius named her himself.
’” He paused, eyes distant as he recollected.
“Grandfather was already dead, so that stuck with me.”
Ezra had not really believed that he was likely to get any information, but he eagerly grabbed what he could from Hugh’s long-ago memory.
“Did they sound angry?” he asked.
Hugh paused to think, then shook his head.
“No,” he said. “Father sounded like this was new information. He was surprised. Incredulous. And Ambrose seemed annoyed. But if this Artemis Johns comes from the family—and I think we can now all agree that she does—I don’t think it was Ambrose that fathered her.
My father wouldn’t have made the quip about the name if Ambrose had just admitted to a by-blow. ”
“Ambrose wasn’t my first guess, anyway,” Ezra admitted.
Xander’s father had not been dissimilar to his son.
Ambrose’s sense of responsibility to the family likely would have stopped him from taking a mistress, though Ezra thought that loyalty to his wife might have accomplished the same thing.
The previous generation of Lightholders had not been littered with love matches the way the current generation was—and Ezra struggled to imagine self-important Cornelius loving anyone—but Ambrose and Xander’s mother Dinah had always seemed to value each other.
“You could ask the rest of the family about Artemis, as well,” Persephone said softly, one eye wandering to the children to confirm that they were out of earshot. “Someone else might know something, too.”
Ezra gave the idea far more consideration than he might have only a few hours before. But ultimately, he still shook his head.
“I know I can’t keep Iris a secret forever,” he said. “I do know that. And so, I will tell them. Just… not yet.”
Persephone nodded, though she didn’t seem convinced that this was the wisest course of action. Hugh also appeared more contemplative than hopeful. Still, they both agreed to keep their opinions to themselves for now.
Not long after this, Nicholas—who was only three years old—started rubbing his eyes, visibly exhausted, as he tried to keep up with the older children.
When he started to tearfully insist that he was not tired and did not need a nap because he wasn’t a baby, Hugh gathered his son up in his arms, and Persephone ushered the girls toward the door.
This took rather a long time, since each of the four girls appeared to positively need to hug Iris at least three times apiece.
When the Blackwoods had all finally piled back into their carriage, Nicholas drooling on his father’s shoulder, Sarah came down to fetch Iris.
The maid had been standing in as a nurse while Ezra hunted for a new governess, but her appearance did little more than remind him that what he really wanted was for the old governess to return.
Iris took little convincing to take her own nap, after all the excitement, and soon enough Ezra was alone in his parlor.
Funny how he had been in this room alone hundreds of times before and had never found it lonely, not in the way that he did now. He was relieved, at first, when Hermes padded gently into the room, her big paws quiet on the lush carpeting.
And then the dog took one look at him and growled, low in her throat. It wasn’t an aggressive sound, but more of a protective one, like she didn’t trust Ezra not to cause any harm.
“It’s not my fault she left,” he protested to the dog—before realizing that he was talking to a dog. But that felt better than sitting in silence, so he continued. “I could not figure out a way to keep her here without hurting her. Trust me. If I could have, I would have.”
Maybe the dog understood, or maybe Ezra just looked so pitiful in that moment that it was obvious he was not a threat. But Hermes whined a little, then rested her head on Ezra’s shoe.
It was more comfort than he deserved, he knew.
But he accepted it anyway.
* * *
Three days after she had moved into her new lodgings, Letitia began to have doubts. She had been insane to give up a good position for this uncertainty, hadn’t she? At Rutley House, she had been well-paid, safe, comfortable…
And Ezra had been there.
Every time she started to think through her concerns, that was where she landed. The reason she wanted to be back was the people—Ezra, yes, but Iris and Sarah, too—not any material concerns like the pay.
That was, she reminded herself firmly each time, exactly why she had needed to leave. The longer she stayed there, the more emotionally involved she would become—and the more painful it would be when things inevitably fell apart.
With this reminder always in her mind, she doggedly pressed on, reading advertisements and newspaper listings in search of a good position that would support her.
The prospects were not encouraging.
Thus, it was with a great surge of pleasure that Letitia opened a note from Ezra, asking her to come to visit Iris and sit in on an interview with a governess… even if the note itself gave her pause.
Miss Knightley, he had written politely. If you are available, would you be willing to visit Iris and meet a potential candidate for your replacement this afternoon? Your presence would be much appreciated. –Rutley
It was entirely proper. He had even signed with his title, not his name.
She had stared at that singular word for an extraordinarily long time. Did that mean that he didn’t want her to think that he wanted to see her? Was he using it to put distance between them? Or was he just being respectable, since she had asked him to let her go?
She realized she could not stop thinking about how he had fled her new place as if it were on fire. It was as if a light had gone out in him—he had seemed interested, kind, and conciliatory, then… poof. Gone, like a witch in a fairy tale for children.
If that was how he needed to behave in order to extricate himself from their… liaison, she could not hold it against him. Not when she had been the one to insist on a separation.
But still, she fretted all through the morning and through the long walk across town, which she used both to settle her nerves and to save on the cab fare, now that she was surviving off her meager savings.
Maybe you will not even see him at all, she told herself as she walked and worried at her lower lip.
Maybe you will be with the housekeeper to interview the governess.
Or maybe you will do the whole thing on your own.
Maybe that’s why he asked you in the first place—so that he didn’t have to attend the appointments himself.
By the time she had made her way back to the neat Rutley townhouse, she had almost convinced herself that she probably wouldn’t even see Ezra at all.
Thus, naturally, he was the very first thing she saw when she came in through the door.
“What are you doing down here?” she asked, forgetting all her good intentions to be polite and distant and respectable when she came face-to-face with him just inside the servants’ entrance.
“You will put your poor staff in a tizzy. Quality is supposed to remain above stairs, you know. It’s the natural separation of things. ”
He beamed at her. This entrance was below ground, but that smile made it bright as spring sunshine in the corridor.
“Good to see you too, Letty,” he said.
She smiled back—and then, very belatedly, remembered that she was going to be good, damn it all.
“Your Grace,” she said, curtsying.
“If you must,” Ezra said, sounding disgusted.
Letitia ducked her head to hide her smile as she fell into step beside him.
“Have you found a new position yet?” he asked, letting her go ahead of him as they climbed the narrow staircase back to the main floor.
“No, not yet,” she admitted. “Most families who come down for the Season have their children’s care already accounted for, and those who live in London year-round don’t seek new hires all that regularly.
I have seen some postings for tutors for the daughters of this solicitor or that well-to-do merchant, but none are live-in positions, which I do prefer.
Although…” She shrugged off her spencer and handed it to Mary, one of the maids, who welcomed her back with a smile and nod.
“My rooms now are quite nice. I suppose it wouldn’t be bad if I stayed there for longer and worked in a few households. ”
“No,” Ezra said at once. “That would have you traipsing about the city at all hours. It isn’t safe.”