Chapter 9
CHAPTER NINE
The carriage journey back to Crabbett Close had a very different atmosphere to the one to the watchhouse, Eliza thought as they waited for the men to return from the bakery.
“Thank you again, Miss Downing. I shall be sure to tell the Holton Agency of your courage today,” Bramstone said.
“If I could ask a favor, Mr. Nightingale,” Eliza said.
“Of course.”
The man’s eyes focused on her as she thought about what she needed to say.
“The Holton Agency is very strict, sir—”
“Therefore, you wish for me to be glowing in what I say, as long as it is only about your governess duties?”
Relief had her nodding at Bramstone Nightingale, relieved he understood.
Mrs. Holton kept meticulous records on every girl registered with her. Eliza had heard about the ledger from the others—Mrs. Holton always had it open before her when delivering a reprimand. Praise was rare. The book held everything from names, details, and feedback from clients.
Never fraternize with any members of the family.
Never speak unless addressed directly by a senior family member.
The Holton Agency rules were constantly running through her head.
“Well, you have no need to worry about that again for a while, Miss Downing,” Lord Seddon said.
Eliza should never have spoken to Mr. Fraser the way she had in the watchhouse—should never have commented about fearing small spaces. But the moment he’d stepped out of the cell, she had seen he was suffering.
He was pale, wide-eyed, panic carved into every taut line of his face. His hands were fisted so tightly, his knuckles were white.
No one else seemed to notice. No one saw the terror beneath his anger. But she had, and he’d hated her for it. Or perhaps hated that she’d seen too much.
The men returned to the carriage then, hands full of baked goods. The scent made her mouth water.
“Do you like apricotines, Miss Downing?” Alexander Nightingale asked.
“I have yet to try them, sir.” She’d never had money for such things.
“Well then, today is that day,” he added.
Do not dine with the family. The governess takes her meals alone or with other household servants.
“Excellent. Come along, Miss Downing. Now that things have returned to normal, the household will wish to welcome you,” Bramstone Nightingale said when the carriage stopped in front of 11 Crabbett Close minutes later.
They all climbed from the carriage again and headed into the house. Eliza found a woman she had yet to meet waiting for them. Her bags were placed neatly beside the stairs.
“I am Miss Bud, but everyone calls me Bud. Please come in, Miss Downing. You must be quite worn out after the chaos. I am the housekeeper, and before that, cook, but we’ve just employed Mr. Dumple, who is turning out well.
I’m so pleased you were able to help get Mungo back. He’s gruff but important to us.”
Short with her hair pulled back in a tight bun, Bud appeared to be like every housekeeper Eliza had met—efficient.
“Agreed,” Bramstone said. “Settle Miss Downing in, Bud, and then she can come and meet the rest of the family. Is my wife about?”
“She has taken the children out again, Mr. Nightingale. They are knitting with Mr. Greedy.”
“We are not a traditional household,” Miss Bud—or just Bud—said, noting the surprise on Eliza’s face. “As you’ve probably already come to understand. There is a lot of noise, plenty of laughter, and you’ll not find a better place to work, Miss Downing.”
“My name is Eliza.”
“I have bakery treats, Bud. If you will bring the tea, we shall eat a lot of sugar and try to recover from our torrid outing,” Alexander Nightingale said from behind the housekeeper.
“Yes, I can see how hard this was on you,” Mr. Fraser said, following him through the door.
“Mungo, I’m so pleased you’re back,” Bud said, rushing to his side. “Why, you’re wet through. Get up those stairs and change.” The housekeeper grabbed a handful of his jacket. “And chilled to the bone likely.”
“I’m well, Bud. Don’t fuss.”
A loud barking sound was followed by the scrabble of nails on the floor, and a large white dog with black circles around his eyes appeared.
“Do you like dogs, Eliza?”
“Very much so, Miss Bud.”
“Well, that’s good, because this is Chester. Be a good boy now, and greet Eliza politely.”
The dog ran at Eliza.
“Sit, Chester!”
The roar came from Mr. Fraser. The dog stopped an inch from where Eliza stood, and looked up at her, tail swishing from side to side expectantly.
“Well now, you’re a fine boy, aren’t you?” Eliza bent to pat the dog’s head and then scratch behind a soft ear. “Yes, you are.”
Chester stretched his neck and licked her face, which made her laugh.
“Now that you’ve been officially greeted, Miss Downing, we’ll show you to your rooms, as I’m sure you wish to wash after the morning’s events,” Miss Bud said. “You can get settled before meeting the younger members of the family, who are equally as exuberant as Chester.”
“Amen,” Mr. Fraser muttered.
“Thank you.” Eliza moved to retrieve her bags, but two large hands beat her to it.
“I’ll bring them up.”
“Thank you, Mr. Fraser, but after what you’ve endured—”
“Just Mungo, and I’ve said I would, so I will.”
Was he always rude and abrupt or just with her because he was embarrassed? Was he embarrassed? Eliza was certainly uncomfortable that he was the man who had saved her, even as she was also grateful.
He’d heard her screaming for help. Nothing ladylike—in fact, she’d cursed like a sailor.
“I can take my bags… really,” Eliza said, not wanting that large presence behind her as she walked to the stairs. Bending, she brushed her fingers over the first step, as she always did the first time she stepped on them, and then began to climb.
“Come along, Eliza,” Bud said. “And one thing you need to know about Mungo is, no one can bend him to do anything he has no wish to,” she said. “I’m sorry for what happened,” she added.
“’Tis done with, and no need to speak on it again,” Mungo said.
Eliza followed the housekeeper down the wide corridor, her boots making little sound on the thick runner beneath them.
The woman, Bud, talked as she walked, her voice brisk as she spoke of the household’s routines, the staff who kept things running smoothly, and the family who called this residence home.
It should calm her after what had just happened, but nothing would until Eliza was away from the large Scotsman behind her.
He followed, his footsteps surprisingly light on the floor.
“We don’t have a lot of staff here,” Bud said, tugging Eliza’s mind back to her surroundings. “But there is Mungo, and Benjamin, the footman and driver you’ve already met. Plus there are two maids, Hannah and Sarah, and Mr. Dumple, the cook.
It was a fine house, Eliza thought as they reached the first landing, though not ostentatious like many she’d entered. Places that thought more about appearance than comfort for the children who lived in it.
Sunlight filtered through high windows, catching on framed pictures and the gleam of the banister. Yet what struck her most were the signs of life, such as a scuffed boot half tucked beneath a cabinet and the edge of a glove tossed on a narrow table. It felt like a home.
“Chester, you bloody mongrel!” the deep Scots burr bellowed from behind her.
Eliza started. Before she could turn, Mungo strode past at speed, expression thunderous. He stopped abruptly, muttering something indecipherable as he plucked the boot from the floor. “I’ve been looking for that for weeks.”
Miss Bud chuckled. “He’s taken a fancy to our Mungo’s footwear. Chester slips into his room as quick as a flash and is out and running with a boot in his mouth before anyone realizes it.”
Eliza kept her expression politely neutral, not wishing to antagonize the man further.
They reached the next staircase, and, silently, all three climbed.
“At the top here,” Miss Bud said, “is where we’ve tucked you. It will give you some peace, as the house is fair bursting at the seams.”
At the landing, the corridor was narrow, the ceiling lower. Miss Bud opened the door at the far end, and they walked inside the room.
“It’s my hope you don’t mind being up here, Eliza,” Bud said, her tone softening.
The room was small but bathed in morning light from a wide dormer window.
Pale curtains matched the coverlet of a neatly made bed.
Beside it stood a sturdy nightstand with a vase of dried flowers.
A comfortable armchair sat near the hearth, and a narrow chest of drawers stood ready for her few belongings. To Eliza, it was perfect.
“It’s lovely,” she said quietly, meaning it. “Thank you.”
Miss Bud gave a satisfied nod. “Well now, you come down when you’re ready and we’ll take that tea in the kitchens, and then you can meet the rest of the family.
Some of the others will arrive, having had word of what happened to Mungo and how it was you that helped secure his release.
We’re mighty grateful,” the woman said, patting Eliza’s hand. She then turned to leave.
Mungo stepped back to let the woman pass through the door again, and they heard her footsteps taking the stairs back down.
“If you’ll put those there, please,” Eliza said, suddenly nervous to be alone with this man. “And I’m sorry if my words earlier upset you. That wasn’t my intention, Mr. Mungo.”
He lowered her bags and then straightened, his blue eyes settling on hers. “Just Mungo. Neither of us will discuss what happened again, as I know you have no wish for everyone here to know the details of that night.” His tone was gruff.
“Thank you.”
“I also have no wish to discuss the events of today again.”
It was a warning. Eliza had no doubt about that. But she was not the only one who knew what had happened. Would he warn all those men who had come to his aid, or just her? Also, who would she tell?
“And now I wish you to understand something, Miss Downing.”
“Eliza,” she said quickly, seeing as he was to be Mungo to her.
“These people are my family, Miss Downing,” he said, ignoring her directive, “and while I am grateful for what you did for me today, I would do anything for them and will, if I see you as a threat.”
Shock held Eliza speechless for long seconds. Had he just threatened her? After what they’d both endured, he thought her a threat to his family?
“So while I owe you as you owe me, I don’t know you or your character, or if you should be here in this house with the people I care about. If you do what you’re here to do, we won’t have a problem, but if you don’t… we will,” he said, his voice a low, threatening growl.
“I beg your pardon, but did you just threaten me?” Eliza was sure she’d got that wrong.
“It was not a threat but a statement of what would happen if you harm this family in any way. There is no need to make more of it than that.” He just stood there calmly, arms folded over his enormous chest and stared at her.
Well, she wasn’t calm.
“No need to make more of it?” Her words came out as a screech.
“How bloody dare you speak to me in that way,” Eliza added, anger flooding her body.
“I was employed to do a job, and I will, but I won’t tolerate such threats—because that is what they are—from you.
Especially after I saved your thick-skinned Scottish hide today! ”
“Which I thanked you for, and you will tolerate them, Miss Downing. My words were not spoken out of anger, but simply a statement so you understand—”
“You can take your statement and get out of my room,” she fumed. “You are a horrid, ungrateful man.”
On those words, he left, his feet thumping on each step as he went back the way they’d just come.
Eliza shut the door and then staggered back a few steps to fall onto the bed. The man had threatened her that if she hurt anyone in this family, she’d answer to him. She’d felt anger at his high-handed ways, even as she could not fault his loyalty.
I’ve already proved myself to you, you arrogant Scottish fiend.
Something told her that life was about to take another turn for her, and she fervently hoped it was better than the last one.
But then with the large Scotsman in the household, perhaps it was going to be a great deal more challenging than she’d originally thought it would be.