Chapter 12
CHAPTER TWELVE
On any day when she was working with the girls, and occasionally Theo, when he was bored, one of the older siblings would pop in, or their aunt and uncle would.
It was bittersweet for Eliza because it made her remember what her family had been like. But there was also the Scotsman to contend with. She wanted to slap the heathen every time she saw him.
He had dared to threaten her when she’d saved him her first day here. Eliza had fought the anger his words had caused, pushing them aside. It mattered little. He was nothing to her now. They’d saved each other, so the slate was clear. She now would focus on what she was employed to do.
The door flew open suddenly, and all eyes turned to watch Theo run in.
“The games have been called!”
“Oooh!” Anna leaped out of the chair she was in and ran, followed by Fred, as she liked to be known, and Matilda.
“Ah, girls, we’re not done yet.”
“It’s the Crabbett Close games, Miss Downing. Nothing is more important than that,” Theo said, following his sisters. “We told you all about them yesterday, so you are prepared.”
“Oh well, off you go, then. I shall await your return, and we will continue with our lessons,” Eliza said, knowing she could not stop them doing something they so obviously loved.
“You are invited to participate, too, Miss Downing,” the boy said.
“No, thank you.”
Theo gave her a last look before fleeing. She smiled, hearing the thud of his booted feet on the floor.
Apparently the Crabbett Close games had been taking place for many years now.
They were an event that involved drinking and eating suspicious foods or reading a poem or solving a riddle.
To be honest, she’d been no wiser after the explanation, as it all sounded surreal.
What she knew was that she would never be partaking in said games.
Refrain from attending social events with the family unless explicitly commanded. Even then, be present in a supervisory capacity only.
After cleaning the parlor that had been vacated at speed, she headed up to her room.
When not with your charges, withdraw to your room.
For all there was an unusualness to the Nightingale household, Eliza had no doubt they were good people. She’d watched the way they interacted with one another, and seeing that their affection was shared and genuine, yet more of the tension inside her had eased.
Eliza had also spent a lot of time with Bud, the housekeeper, and Mr. Dumple, the cook, in her short time here, and come to like them both very much.
I could be happy here. I just need to avoid the Scottish behemoth.
“Miss Downing.” Her name was followed by a soft tap on her door.
Eliza hurried to open it. Frederica Nightingale stood there.
“Come along, Miss Downing. The games are due to start soon.”
“Pardon?”
“The games. You are to attend, as you are new. It’s a ritual. You cannot refuse an invitation when one has been issued.”
Eliza blinked for no other reason than that she didn’t know what else to do.
“Do come along. It’s chilly out, so gloves—oh, you’re already wearing them. But a scarf, and of course your outer clothing.”
“Ah, Fred, I don’t think it would be right for me to do so.”
“Why not?”
“I am staff.”
“Bud and Mr. Dumple have taken part a few times. If they don’t now, it’s because they aren’t feeling up to it, not because they are not invited, Miss Downing. Everyone who is here when the games are called is welcomed.”
“That sounds wonderful. Thank you for the offer.”
Maintain strict formality with all senior members of the household.
Mrs. Holton would have conniptions if she heard Eliza had been socializing with the family, especially given that the woman was already unhappy with her for some reason.
The last time they’d spoken, the woman had snapped at her for speaking loudly—which she had not been doing—and then told her that she was most displeased about her behavior. When Eliza had questioned what behavior she spoke of, Mrs. Holton had told her to leave the room. It had all been very odd.
“They’ll come for you if you’re not downstairs in five minutes,” Fred warned. “Once, they carried Mr. Douglas’s son-in-law out of the house when he wouldn’t participate. Now hurry up, Eliza. The locals don’t like to be kept waiting.”
Fred turned and ran back down the stairs.
While they were good people, Eliza could not afford to anger them.
She quickly pulled on her boots and laced them up.
Because she was always cold, she added a second pair of gloves and lastly, her coat and bonnet.
Looking around her, she tried to find her scarf, but there was no sign of it and no time to look further.
She then hurried downstairs in under five minutes, as directed by Fred.
“Excellent. I thought we’d have to come and get you,” Alexander Nightingale said. “We are depleted in numbers, you see, as only Gray and Ellen answered the call. Harriet and Cyn are busy with the young ones.”
She nodded instead of asking the ten questions she wanted to.
Never question those above you. Know your place.
Everyone filed outside, with Eliza at the rear.
“Now remember, Miss Downing, we have a word of the week in the household. If it is spoken, you must do what was directed when it was selected,” Lord Seddon said.
“Word of the week?” she echoed, her voice a little faint.
“Clearly they haven’t informed you of all the household goings-on.”
“We’re easing Miss Downing into our ways slowly,” Matilda called over her shoulder.
“Word of the week is ‘Kench,’ and you must walk backward for five paces if it is spoken, just so you are prepared,” Lord Seddon added. “Now, I know you’ve had a baptism of fire since you’ve been here, but I assure you, this will be fun.”
“You must focus, Miss Downing, I will not be beaten if you’re on my team,” Theo said.
“You little turncoat, you’ll try for Mavis’s team again,” Alexander Nightingale said, lunging at his little brother, who squealed and ran.
Her head was spinning. Kench? Walk backward? Thankfully there was no sign of the Scottish Curmudgeon. Hopefully that meant he’d decided to stay in the house.
It was frigid outside—cold enough that little plumes of white formed when they spoke or breathed out. Eliza looked longingly at the house behind her and found Mungo. Drat. She turned away, but not before she noted his habitual scowl was in place.
Despite the expression on his face, he was looking ridiculously vital and handsome. Clearly, he’d fully recovered from his brief incarceration. Eliza hated that if he was near, she felt drawn to look at him. It was annoying how he made her unsettled when he was near. Ill-mannered beast.
“Oooh, I’m so excited!” These words came from Anna. She bore no resemblance to the others because she’d not been born into the family but had come to live with them from an orphanage. Yet more proof these were good people, if she’d needed it.
Looking toward the small park in the middle of the close, Eliza noted that the rotunda held several people, and around it milled many more.
“Hurry it along, Nightingales. We are awaiting you!” a man with a large speaking trumpet called out.
When he lowered it, she realized it was Mr. Greedy. She’d met him the day she arrived.
“I promise you will enjoy this, Miss Downing, and as they are played often, it’s best to just get the first games over with,” Bramstone Nightingale said. He held Lottie, his sweet-faced daughter, by the hand. She skipped along at his side.
“I really don’t think it’s done for me to be here with you all,” Eliza felt the need to say.
“Of course it is. Now hurry it along. We don’t stand on ceremony,” he added.
She followed the household to where the others waited.
“Do we have anyone new here today?” Mr. Greedy said into his speaking trumpet.
Eliza took a step back, wondering if she should slip away when no one was looking.
Do not fraternize with the senior members of the household.
“Going somewhere?” a deep voice said close to her ear.
She didn’t turn to look at Mungo, who was now behind her, only a foot away. Nor did she reply. Eliza focused on Mr. Greedy instead.
“Do we have any new people participating today?”
“We do,” Theo called. “Miss Downing is attending her first games.”
“Hello, Miss Downing. We’re grateful to you for helping return our Mungo to us!” Mr. Greedy called to her.
Several loud greetings and thanks followed this. Bemused, she nodded and managed to smile.
“If I can offer you one piece of advice.” The Scottish burr was closer now. “Do not tell anyone your secrets. The people in this street have an uncanny ability to ferret out information.”
She didn’t turn to acknowledge his words.
“We have Louis and Melinda Alvin here as well. They are spending a few days with their aunt and uncle!” Mr. Greedy added.
Everyone greeted them, and Eliza wondered what kind of madness she’d stepped into. Her second thought was for Sylvie and how much she’d enjoy this.
“I will now call the teams. Mungo, Miss Downing, Theo, Ivy, and Cambridge Sinclair.”
“He came with me,” Charles Thomas said as he arrived. He was a cousin of the family, married to the wonderful Violet, and was often found here at Crabbett Close, along with all the other members of this large, boisterous family. “Couldn’t shake the man once he heard what was happening.”
A tall dark-haired man with green eyes was with him. Eliza saw similarities to Captain Sinclair.
“Go with Ellen.” A large hand on her back nudged her to the right.
She did as Mungo asked because she had no other option.
Always take direction without argument from senior household staff.
Trestle tables had been set up around the street, outside a few of the houses in the close. People stood behind them, and on the tables were an array of items.
“You will eat and drink suspicious things, but nothing will make you ill—we hope,” Matilda Nightingale had told her while explaining about the games yesterday.
“Come along, Miss Downing,” Mrs. Fletcher said. Beautiful with pink cheeks and excitement in her eyes, the woman was stunning in a long, sable velvet jacket.
“Hello, Miss Downing, I have sugar plums!” Lottie shrieked as she ran by, eating the delicious treat.
“We shall have some of Nancy’s sugar plums after. Right now, we have a relay to win. Now let me explain the rules,” Mrs. Fletcher said as they stopped at a table. Behind it stood a woman wearing so many layers of clothing, it was hard to see her face.
“I’m Miss Alvin,” she said through her scarf.
She’d met some of the neighbors when she’d gone out for a walk, but wrapped up as they were, she didn’t recognize anyone.
“The men and Mavis go first,” Mrs. Fletcher said, “as they can apparently hold their spirits better. I’m not sure about the validity of that statement, however,” she added. “My husband always ends up reeling by the end of the relay.”
“And what is it we are to do?” Eliza asked, feeling as if she was standing untethered in a field while strong winds buffeted her.
She’d thought life had settled into a routine at Crabbett Close, but it seemed she’d been wrong there. Odd things were still happening.
“You see the tables, even in this godforsaken gray gloom.” Mrs. Fletcher pointed farther along the road. “At each, the team members must drink, eat, or do a task, then move on to the next, gathering other members as they progress. The team who reaches the end first together, wins.
Keep to your own rooms whenever not actively teaching or supervising charges. A governess should not linger in family spaces, or with family.
Yet another rule from Mrs. Holton’s book she’d broken from day one of her employment.
“If you’ll look to the right, you’ll see the men and Mavis ready to start.”
She did as Mrs. Fletcher asked and saw men lined up. Her eyes went to Mungo, who looked large and intimidating. Beside him was Mavis, who looked the same. Then there were the other men, most of whom she’d met today.
“Get ready,” Mr. Greedy commanded, then called, “Go!”
Her eyes again went to Mungo, and his locked on her as he ran. The others jostled behind them. Detective Fletcher increased his pace and tried to pass Mungo, who in turn stuck out his foot, and the man stumbled forward, arms circling frantically.
“Oh, for God’s sake, Gray. Stay away from Mungo!” Mrs. Fletcher had her hands on her hips and was glaring at her husband. “Every time, this happens,” she muttered.
“Now, Miss Downing,” Miss Alvin said, drawing her attention away from the man advancing quickly on her. “Look at the table and decide which you would like. The drink or the food?”
Eliza studied the contents of the table.
“Don’t touch the alcohol. I’ll drink that,” the Scotsman said as he reached her.
She’d not been rebellious for years. But hearing that order from the ogre made her reach for the mug. She didn’t even pause to sniff the contents, just drank.