Chapter 25
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Eliza gave herself a stern lecture about kissing Scotsmen and how it would not be happening again.
She wasn’t sure what came over her when he was near, but it had to stop.
This blinding need she felt when he looked at her.
The hunger that swept through her veins when he was close or touched her was unsettling.
Eliza was a rational person, and this behavior was far from that. All right, once, she’d been extremely irrational, and the consequences had been dire, but that lesson had ensured she never behaved that way again.
No employer wishes a staff member to behave in an irrational manner.
She must return things to where they were before Calder Fraser arrived. Before the kissing and exposure of her past. She felt like her ordered life was spiraling out of control and she was unraveling like Sylvie’s favorite knitted hat.
Arriving downstairs, determined to focus on what needed to be done, she found Bud, Mr. Dumple, and Benjamin in the kitchen with Theodore. The latter two were eating—something she’d noted most of the members of this household excelled at.
“Where are the girls, please, Theodore? It is time to begin our lessons,” Eliza said. Yesterday’s had been cut short, and she would not have that today. She was employed to teach, and that was what she would do.
Above all, set out each day to further the knowledge of your charges. Remember you are upholding the Holton Agency reputation.
“Taking tea in the parlor with everyone,” Theodore said before leaving.
“Do you think it’s wise that the children are involved in all this business with the missing girls, Bud?” Eliza asked.
“They don’t keep secrets in this family. If there is something to know, then they all do. Besides, the young ones aren’t young anymore.”
“Never known a family who share everything like this one,” Benjamin said. He was hunched over his mug of tea, looking like he needed at least four more hours of sleep.
“I was employed to teach the younger members of this family, and I must be allowed to do that if they are to enter society successfully.” She knew her voice sounded prim, but could do nothing about that. Eliza always craved, and rarely got, stability.
“Living in this household, things will rarely run as they should, Eliza.” Bud gave her a pitying look. “You’ll make your head sore by trying. You sit down now, and I’ll make you some tea.”
She wanted to argue and tell them she didn’t want tea, but she did, so she sat.
The back door opened, and in walked Mr. Greedy, carrying a small pot. “Well now, this is fortuitous,” he said, stepping inside and bringing a blast of cold air with him. “It’s a day cold enough to make your bones complain.”
“Come and sit, Mr. Greedy. I’m just pouring Eliza some tea. You’ll have a cup.”
“I will, and thank you for it,” he said, unwinding a length of wool that had been wrapped around his neck five times. “You’re an angel, Bud.”
Mr. Dumple lowered a plate of buttered toast onto the table, and Eliza’s mouth watered.
“And you’re a saint, Mr. Dumple,” Mr. Greedy said.
Eliza took a piece and bit into the toast. It tasted like heaven, butter spread so thick, it dripped down her fingers and the sides of her mouth.
“It’s our Eliza I’ve come to see,” Mr. Greedy said after a mouthful of tea.
Since the death of her parents, she’d never been “our Eliza” to anyone. It made tears sting her eyes.
“Do you need something from me, Mr. Greedy?” she said with a calm she wasn’t feeling.
“Well now, first I want to say something, if you’ll give me a minute?”
Eliza nodded.
“As you know, there’s no secrets in Crabbett Close. Even if something is told in confidence, it never stays that way. Things always get out, and to that I’ll add that no one in this close would take that information and do anything but good with it.”
She had no idea where he was going with this conversation, but she nodded. Taking another bite, she wondered if it would be rude to finish this piece and take another. There were two left on the plate. Had Bud and Mr. Dumple already eaten?
“I have some salve for your hand.”
“P-pardon?” She coughed on the last corner of toast she’d just swallowed.
Bud hit her on the back, and Mr. Greedy nudged her tea forward.
“There now, you’ll forgive me. I should have spoken to you in private,” he said.
“If this is about why she’s always wearing gloves, you’ll be doing me a favor, too, as I’ve wondered why,” Bud said, standing with her hands on her hips and looking at Eliza—or more importantly her hands.
“I don’t like to talk about it.”
“We’ve all got some things we hold close to our chest,” Mr. Greedy said. “But Mungo said that sometimes your hand pains you. He mentioned seeing you scratching or rubbing it often.”
When had he spoken to Mr. Greedy? The thought both warmed and horrified her. Did everyone in this household know what had happened to her and her family?
“I’m right sorry about the fire and losing your parents, Eliza,” Benjamin said solemnly. “I lost my sister when I was young. It still hurts to think about her.”
“How old was she?” She could see Bud and Mr. Dumple in her periphery, but her attention remained on Benjamin. Younger than her, but only just, she’d not had a lot to do with him, but they were now aware that they shared a loss so deep, it had changed the course of their lives.
“Ten.”
“I’m so sorry.” He reached across the table to pat her gloved hands.
“Most suffer loss at some stage, but the both of you were so young that takes a while to heal, if it ever does completely,” Mr. Greedy said.
“Now, if you’ve no wish to show me, then that’s all right, but I made up a batch of this.
” He held out the small pot. “It will stop the itching and loosen up the skin. It would help greatly if I saw your hand, Eliza, to ensure this is what you need.”
She looked at the concerned faces of the people she’d not known long but already felt like family to her. Eliza didn’t show people her hand. It wasn’t shame, but the pity she saw on the faces of those she did show had stopped her from doing so again.
“Courage, my girl. Fear is only a shadow—you need not bow to it.”
Her father had said these words to her often when she was a child.
“You move to this chair, now, Benjamin, and I can take a look at Eliza’s hand,” Mr. Greedy said, regaining his feet.
Eliza slowly peeled off the glove on her left hand as Mr. Greedy took Benjamin’s seat, keeping her eyes on what she was doing and not the looks on the faces of those around her. Once she was done, she dropped the glove into her lap and made herself look up.
Benjamin was eating toast, and Bud was slicing more bread. Mr. Dumple came closer and patted her on the head before returning to whatever he’d been doing.
“These scars tell me of your bravery, Eliza,” Mr. Greedy said as he opened the small pot.
He scooped some out with his finger and dropped it onto the hand.
“You’ll bear with me now, as there may be a little discomfort, but we need to loosen it up.
This will help with the tightness and aching, and I’ve some exercises I want you to do. ”
She didn’t let people touch her like this, but as his fingers worked over her hand, surprisingly, she felt herself relax. Well, her body did, anyway. Her head was still whirling.
“Our Mr. Greedy has a touch of magic about him when he heals,” Bud said.
“You need to do this every day. Morning and night would be best, Eliza.”
She nodded, mesmerized by the way he touched her skin with reverence, as if it wasn’t ugly.
“They’re wanting more bloody tea.”
The deep voice had Eliza looking over her shoulder as Mungo walked in and took all the remaining air in the room.
“Hello, Mungo. How is Calder holding up?” Mr. Greedy said, still massaging her hand. He’d turned it over now and was working on the palm.
“As well as can be expected, considering” was the curt reply.
“Returning a greeting is a sign of acknowledgment that you heard the one delivered to you, Mr. Mungo,” Eliza said, dragging her eyes from him and back to the top of Mr. Greedy’s head, as he was now bent over her hand and inspecting it closely.
“It is not necessary to be rude just because it is expected of you,” she added in her teaching voice.
This man had kissed her this morning and put his hands on her body. She’d risen on her toes and wrapped her arms around his neck. Her uncle had called her wanton once, and worse, he’d been right, but what he hadn’t realized was why she’d done what she had.
“I’m not one of your students, Miss Downing,” the deep grumpy voice said from behind her.
“Well, at least that is one thing that I can be grateful for today.” She looked at Bud, and the woman had a strange expression in her eyes as they moved from Eliza to Mungo.
“It’s not often you hear someone taking our Mungo to task, and that’s possibly because none of us are brave enough to besides a Nightingale,” Mr. Greedy said.
“The Crabbett Close locals are not scared of him,” Benjamin scoffed. He then dropped his eyes after looking at Mungo. The man was probably glaring at him.
Without another word, the Scotsman stomped back out of the kitchen, leaving them in silence.
“Well, I never,” Mr. Dumple said.
“It’s not every day, that’s for sure,” Mr. Greedy added.
“I’ve never seen it,” Bud said.
“What?” Eliza demanded.
“Our Mungo unsettled, and he was definitely that. I wonder why?” Bud said, giving Eliza another one of those looks that made the hair on the back of her neck rise.
“Right then.” Mr. Greedy released her. “You’ll remember to put the salve on and rub it in morning and night now, Eliza.”
He then went on to show her some simple exercises.
“Thank you very much, Mr. Greedy. It feels so much better already,” she said when he was finished.
She left the kitchen to find her charges. It was lesson time, and they could put it off no longer. If they did, she’d have to find some chores to do for Bud because Eliza was not sitting about the place, doing nothing and being paid for it.
As she reached the stairs, she heard raised voices, which made her pause.
Do not involve yourself in business affairs that do not directly concern you.