Chapter Eight
THE RETURN TRIP required forced laughter on Dina’s part as she tried to appear as though all was well.
The other three in her carriage seemed genuine in their interest—Mr. Littlefield was even more animated than he’d been on the first journey.
It all felt like a ruse to Dina and yet, again, there was nothing she could hold up to say, “See, this confirms that Miss Johansson is being untrue to you, David.” The falseness left her feeling sick by the time the carriage came to a stop in front of the house.
She excused herself quickly with the need to get back to the girls.
No one pointed out that she still had the rest of the day off, but then the governess’s personal time was far down the list of concerns right now.
She joined the girls in time for their daily tea, which consisted of lemonade and buttered bread, and dismissed the maid who took her place on Mondays.
She tried to forget the tension but found it difficult.
Her thoughts kept returning to bright Miss Johansson and tight David and the stupid rock that was supposedly deserving of Mr. Littlefield’s intent searching.
When Mary and Mr. Jennings arrived for children’s hour, Dina excused herself quickly and hid in her room rather than going belowstairs as she usually did.
The servants who attended the outing would surely have whispered about what had happened, and as guest of the outing she would be plied to confirm the details.
Dina managed the balance between being both a cousin and a servant well enough and did not doubt her ability to put off any questions the staff asked her; her avoidance was primarily due to her fear that should she find a willing audience to whom she might allow all her thoughts to tumble out.
Mary was usually her confidante for things that bothered her, much as she was for Mary, but she was caught in an awkward balance in this.
The grandfather clock at the bottom of the stairs chimed the hour sooner than Dina liked, but at least it was only the girls who awaited her company, and they were not expected to interact with the party tonight.
Mary was already gone from the nursery when Dina arrived, and Mr. Jennings was in a hurry to return to their guests. Once it was only her and the girls, she took a deep breath and let it down, trying to send some of the anxiety of the day out with the breath.
Several minutes later, there was a tapping at the door.
She turned away from setting out the girls’ clothes for tomorrow at the same time Mrs. Macarthur poked her head into the room.
David’s mother looked about, and then smiled when her gaze landed on Dina.
Their earlier accord had disappeared, and the more familiar tension settled in as David’s mother came into the room, closing the door behind her.
“I hope I am not interrupting anything.” Mrs. Macarthur was dressed in an emerald-green dinner gown that made her eyes look bluer than usual.
Emerald earrings sparkled at her ears, throat, and wrist, completing the picture of an elegant lady she had always exhibited.
She looked around the room, taking in the drapery, small furniture, table and shelves filled with toys and books currently put up for the day save for the three stories the girls had chosen as their bedtime tales.
To let only one girl choose each night inevitably led to bickering, so Dina allowed them to each choose their own.
Olivia and Rebecca never made it through all three, but Elizabeth would remain attentive throughout the third, determined to delay bedtime as long as possible.
“I shall be putting the girls to bed shortly,” she said, waving toward the dressing screen pulled across the far side of the room where the girls were changing into their nightdresses.
The screen was more to teach them to be modest rather to afford them privacy, since it was usually only Dina who was in attendance for this change from day to night.
“This is a lovely nursery,” Mrs. Macarthur said, coming farther into the room. “Are you responsible for the situation of it?”
“All was in place when I came,” Dina said in answer to the odd question—did David’s mother really care so much on the set up of the nursery? “Can I help you with something, Mrs. Macarthur?”
“Mary gave me permission to tour the rest of the house before dinner was announced—the official tour for the guests was done before my arrival, apparently. I’ve never been here before, as it is so very far north.”
“Yes,” Dina confirmed, then went back to arranging the stockings the girls would wear the next day. If there was a greater purpose than exploring Mary’s home, Mrs. Macarthur would come to it on her own timing. Dina focused on keeping her breathing even and her countenance neutral.
“It seems that you function here as much as a nurse as a governess.”
“The girls are close enough in age to benefit from both aspects.”
“They seem very well behaved, and Mary can’t say enough about your work here.”
Dina heard the slight emphasis on the word “work,” surely meant to remind her of her place.
The genteel class did not “work.” David’s class.
She wondered for a moment how it was that this woman had fallen in love with the Scotsman Barney Macarthur all those years ago.
What had her family thought of him? Where had they married?
Dina knew the relationship had grown cool by the time David was old enough to notice, and his mother had wanted to return to England.
Yet Mrs. Macarthur had stayed in Scotland all those years, and she’d been heartbroken when David’s father died.
Dina watched from the corner of her eye as Mrs. Macarthur made a slow circle around the room, focusing on one aspect and then another.
How much of her objection to Dina was because of some pain she herself had felt being pulled between the world she knew and the world she’d married into?
The girls came out from behind the screen, eyeing Mrs. Macarthur warily.
Dina could not remember the last time someone they did not know had come into this place, and she rather liked that they seemed a bit territorial about the intrusion.
Dina introduced them, stood back while Mrs. Macarthur fussed over their frilly nightdresses and complimented their performances from other evenings.
When she’d finished, Dina suggested the girls put their dolls to bed before story time.
It was part of their nightly routine, and the girls were eager to tuck in their babies the same way Dina would tuck them in after the books were read and hair was brushed.
“They really are lovely,” Mrs. Macarthur said, looking at them with soft longing. She turned her eyes to Dina. “You love them a great deal, don’t you?”
“Very much.” Dina began refolding the clothes, drawing out her task while waiting for Mrs. Macarthur to leave. She’d certainly had all the observation she needed of this room. Unless that wasn’t her reason for having come.
“You do not miss Scotland?”
“I miss it every day,” Dina said, smoothing out the skirt of Rebecca’s frock.
“But fate has not seen fit to keep me there. I’ve no family now that my grandfather has passed, at least, not the type of family I could settle with.
” There were some distant cousins and the son of Grandfather’s brother, but though she was seen as less than genteel in England, she was a poor fit for the life she would have if she were determined to stay in Scotland.
She would have to marry, for one thing, and make do with whatever situation that put her in—tending a garden, home farm, family, and hearth without the training for that kind of life.
“I’ve instead brought Scotland with me as much as possible. ”
She looked at David’s mother as she said this and saw the expected shadow, confirming that her opinions of the land Dina loved had not changed in the years since she’d gently reminded Dina of the differences between her situation and David’s.
“The Scottish folk songs the children have performed have been lovely.”
“They have beautiful voices.”
Mrs. Macarthur looked at a bookshelf as though intent on the titles displayed. “I want to thank you, Dina, for all you’ve done for David.”
Dina’s hands slowed as she placed Olivia’s blue walking boots on the floor beneath the bench where she’d laid out the clothing. Mrs. Macarthur turned toward her, a soft smile on her lips and gloved hands clasped in front of her.
“I know that leaving London was a difficult choice,” she continued.
“I hope that seeing the man David has become helps you to better understand the power of your sacrifice.” She turned and began walking toward the windows that looked over the yard.
“That night when we spoke was not easy for me. I hope you know that. I want David’s happiness above all things and have always felt kindly toward you and the friends you and Mary have been to him.
” She sighed. “Only I could not ignore what I knew in my heart was best for him.” She paused at the window, took a deep breath, and then let it out.
“You are not a mother, but you love these girls in much the same way, and so I am certain that you can understand my position.” She turned, facing Dina again.
“David is my only son, and his happiness is my only occupation.”
Dina was touched despite the stinging reminder that David had been able to attain his potential because Dina stepped aside.
Dina had entertained the idea that maybe things could be different between her and David now, but could they?
Was an unfaithful English bride with connection still a better choice than a faithful Scottish one?