Chapter 5 #2
Leopold sighed and nodded.
“I thought so, as well,” he said. “And it certainly has my attention.”
Barnaby nodded.
“It is good that she is doing well with the child.”
Leopold nodded.
“Cecily stood for a few seconds this morning.”
Barnaby looked at him, surprised.
“You visited them in the nursery”
Leopold nodded.
“I went to check to ensure that Miss Redmond had everything she needed. The baby reached for me, so I stayed and spoke to her. Next thing I knew, she had grabbed my trouser leg and used it to pull herself up.”
Barnaby stared at him with widening eyes until he laughed.
“This would do nothing to dispel the speculation that you are her father.”
Leopold glared at his friend, though there was no warning or anger in the expression.
“How fortunate then that the news will go no further than the nursemaid and you.”
Barnaby laughed.
“Do not be so certain,” he said with an impish grin.
Just then, Wilfred appeared at the end of the drive with a brisk, apologetic air. His wary eyes suggested he brought with him an unwelcome message.
Wilfred bowed stiffly. “Your Grace. Her Grace ordered me to find you at once.”
Barnaby looked from Wilfred to Leopold. “This ought to be amusing.”
Leopold rolled his eyes at his friend before addressing Wilfred.
“Why?”
Wilfred straightened. “Her Grace has asked that you join her in the drawing room.”
Leopold frowned. “Now?”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
Leopold suppressed a groan. His mother had been strange and insufferable since Cecily arrived. He was certain that had not suddenly changed.
“Very well,” he said.
Barnaby tipped an imaginary hat, grinning.
“I shall leave you to it.”
Leopold sighed.
“Remind me to properly thank you for your support.”
Barnaby laughed, heading off toward the stables.
“I shall.”
Leopold went inside.
His mother was waiting in the drawing room, seated near the fire with an untouched teacup beside her. She looked as though she had bitten into a bitter orange.
Leopold shut the door behind him. “You wanted to see me?”
She looked up. “I did.”
He crossed the room and stopped. “What is it?”
Her gaze held his for a moment before she answered. “I met the nursemaid in the corridor this morning.”
Leopold nodded, stiffening inexplicably.
“I expected the two of you to meet soon.”
She lifted her chin. “I made conversation.”
“I had assumed as much. I imagine it would have been rather awkward if you did not.”
The dowager gave him a warning look, the way she used to when he was an impertinent child.
“She is quite guarded.”
He folded his hands behind his back. “That is not unusual for someone who begins employment in a new home.”
“No,” his mother said. “It is not. But there is something about her I cannot quite place.”
Leopold felt the first prickle of irritation. “What exactly does that mean?”
“It means,” she said, with a faint edge now, “that her accent does not match what one would expect from someone in service.”
Leopold stared at her. “That is your concern?”
“It is one of them.”
Leopold took a deep breath, choosing not to tell his mother about her unexpected intelligence and interest in intellectual subjects.
He did not admit it to the dowager, but he realized she was right.
Miss Redmond sounded proper in more than just her knowledge.
There was a lilt to her accent he could not recall ever hearing from any servant.
“I do not understand,” he said. “What are you suggesting?”
Her expression did not soften. “Letters can be written by anyone.”
“The agency sent a recommendation before she arrived. It was not a personal inquiry letter.”
“A letter arrived, and then a young woman arrived who seems to be far from what we expected. And in the midst of rumors that must have every woman in the ton curious about the mystery child.”
Leopold shook his head.
“Surely, you are not implying that Miss Redmond is an imposter here to satisfy her curiosity about Cecily and me.”
His mother shrugged.
“I am saying that it is worth being wary. As long as the child remains here, you should not be so quick to trust everyone.”
Leopold sighed in exasperation.
“Miss Redmond has exhibited more experience and affection with Cecily than anyone I have ever seen with any child. I cannot imagine that a noblewoman could feign such expertise and love in a single day.”
She rose. “Be careful, Leopold.”
Then she left him and went back to her chambers. Leopold stood there, perplexed. He could not deny that the accent and the apparent intelligence were unusual for a servant. But his mother’s concern seemed outlandish.
Who could possibly pretend to be a nursemaid at the exact time they had sent for one, and end up being naturally gifted at it? And why would anyone even try?
***
That evening, his mind returned to the nursery just before retiring. The corridor outside was dim, the lamps newly lit. Leopold pushed the door open quietly and saw at once that the room was dark except for the small lamp on the table beside the crib.
Miss Redmond was asleep in the chair next to Cecily. Her head had tipped slightly to one side. One hand rested loosely on the arm of the chair. Her bag lay on the floor beside her, still packed.
Leopold stood in the doorway, looking at a woman who slept beside a baby she had known for one day as though she had done it all her life, with a bag she had not unpacked, unusual intelligence, and an accent seemingly no one could place.
Again, he thought about the absurdity of his mother’s implications. I am letting Mother’s uptight paranoia get to me, he thought, though it lacked conviction. There is no reason to question a woman who, by all appearances, is everything she claims.