Chapter 11
Eleven
As I waited for Millicent at our meeting place, I pondered my reckless thought the night before, that I was in love with Lord Brookhaven.
Such a thing could not happen. It had only been the excitement of the moment. Not only was he an earl, and therefore far above me and out of my social sphere, but he was my employer.
The relationship would be unfair to us both.
Unfair to him because it would bring him down in the eyes of his peers and possibly even cause the ruin of his family name, thereby harming Samuel and Annabelle.
And it was unfair to me due to the fact that, as a poor governess with no family, I had no power. Although if he wished to marry me . . .
But peers of the realm simply did not marry servants, and I was in fact a servant, even if the other servants never considered me one of them.
And if I was right about him, Lord Brookhaven was too good a man to take advantage of a girl like me with no power, privilege, or say-so.
And as far-fetched as a marriage proposal from Lord Brookhaven might seem, I could not accept even if he offered, since I could not harm Samuel and Annabelle that way.
I felt the air go out of me. Until that moment, I hadn’t realized how much I’d been hoping to think of a way Lord Brookhaven might marry me.
A tear dripped from my eye. I tore off my glove and flicked the offending drop away.
How foolish to cry about something that I knew could never be.
Had the invitation to the house party made me think I could be like the members of society, of gentlemen, lords, and ladies born into privilege and wealth?
I was not one of them. No doubt Lord Brookhaven only invited me because he needed one more female to have enough pairs for dinner and partners for dancing.
I was only performing a service for my lord, serving in the capacity for which he needed me. That was all.
A stab of pain went through me. I didn’t want to believe it, but I must. Otherwise my heart would be torn from my chest when I had to accept the truth, and I didn’t want to humiliate myself in the process.
“Miss Robbins?”
I spun around. Lord Brookhaven was standing not ten feet away in the shadow of an oak tree.
“My lord.” I rubbed my cheek, then quickly dropped my hand, lest he suspect I was wiping away tears.
“Are you well?”
“Oh yes, very well. It is a fine morning for a walk.”
“A bit foggy, but otherwise fine.” He was staring hard at me.
I smiled to show him that he was mistaken if he thought I’d been crying. “I very much enjoyed the evening,” I said. “Dancing and the music. And the dinner was very good as well. Very pleasant.”
“I am glad to hear it. I hope Lord Markeley’s behavior toward you was not improper in any way. He was quite inebriated last evening.”
“No, not at all. There was nothing improper.”
“Good. He’d received some unwelcome news from home.”
“I am very sorry for his bad news. I hope it was nothing too terrible.”
“His mother’s illness. But I shall allow him to tell you of it, if he wishes.”
The conversation paused. I wondered what he was thinking. Had he sought me out this morning? Or was it only by chance that he encountered me here? Shamelessly, I was just happy to see him and to have this moment alone with him.
“I believe I see Miss Millicent Skidmore coming this way. I shall leave you two to your walk. But I will see you this evening.”
“Yes, of course.”
He was gone before Millicent had made her way to me.
“Was that Lord Brookhaven?” she whispered.
“It was.”
“Did he arrange to meet you here?” She lowered her voice even more.
“No, no. I suppose he was taking his morning walk and came upon me unintentionally.” I said it as though there could be no other explanation.
Millicent began chattering about the evening, about dancing with such amiable gentlemen as Lord Brookhaven, Lord Markeley, and Mr. Thomas Merritt.
“Truly, I cannot believe my good fortune at being here. My cousins shall be so envious. Do you know I have three cousins, all ladies, all out at the same time? My grandmother is completely unable to single me out to help me find suitors, and even though our carriage accident was very frightening, it was rather providential in the end.”
“It was, for now you are here with me.” I linked my arm through hers and we started down the path toward the garden.
“Oh, yes. I do hope you will write to me when I’ve gone home to Shropshire. I do enjoy receiving letters, though I am not much of a letter writer, but I will write to you, I promise. Am I not a silly, selfish girl?”
“Not at all. You just don’t enjoy writing letters. The fact that you write anyone at all shows unselfishness.”
“You are so good, Charlotte. A true friend.” She gave me a gratifying smile and squeezed my arm. “And even though Rose Rutledge has not yet condescended to have a conversation with me, she does sing and play divinely, does she not?”
“She does indeed.”
“She is very accomplished, or so I’ve overheard from her mama and Mrs. Allen.”
So we had all heard. Lady Rutledge had proclaimed all of her daughter’s accomplishments loudly and often since they’d arrived.
And I would never have told anyone, but I had mentally counted off each accomplishment—fluent in French, German, and Italian; skilled in painting and fancy needlework; well-read in both prose and poetry; beautiful penmanship and letter-writing skills; a thorough education in arithmetic and the sciences.
And I allowed myself the prideful thought that I could match each one, all except her playing and singing abilities.
But it hardly made me the kind of “catch” that Miss Rose Rutledge was considered, since she was a wealthy baron’s daughter and would receive a large dowry.
I changed the subject, and we talked of the banter between us, Lord Markeley, and Mr. Merritt at the dinner table.
“I would accept a marriage proposal from either of them.” Millicent sighed. “They are both so handsome. I’d been worried I’d end up married to one of my father’s widower friends. They’re so old.” She scrunched her face and squeezed her eyes shut.
I hadn’t noticed either Mr. Merritt or Lord Markeley showing any interest in her, but I hoped for her sake that one of them would. Either of them could offer her a life of great privilege and security.
I hadn’t noticed Millicent mentioning anything about love, but I suspected she thought marriage was the same thing as love, that she would instantly love her husband, and that she could make her husband love her.
But I’d seen too many marriages, just being a vigilant observer in church and around the village of Milford, to have noticed that there seemed to be little affection between most husbands and wives.
And one of the teachers at Mrs. Southey’s school had been carrying on some kind of relationship with a married man, a wealthy former tradesman who lived in Milford.
Mrs. Southey dismissed her as soon as she learned of it.
Such a thing could have been the ruinous end of our school, if gossip of the affair had spread.
Love. It was the thing I wanted most in the world, perhaps because I’d received so little of it. And I just couldn’t bear the thought that I might never have a husband who loved me.
Even Miss Allen, with her injured ankle, came out to play pall mall.
The weather was perfect, with only a slight breeze and some clouds but no threat of rain as Miss Allen pulled names written on small pieces of paper out of Lord Markeley’s hat to see who would go first. Rose Rutledge’s name was chosen first, mine was next to last, and Lord Brookhaven was last.
The one-foot-tall iron hoop stood about a hundred feet away from us on the grassy lawn. Traditionally, the alley on which one played pall mall was not grassy but made of hard, bare ground, but “the grass is very short here,” Lord Brookhaven said, “and so it shall serve nearly as well.”
After we had started to play, Lady Derringer came strolling out.
“Come and join us,” I called to her.
“We can work you in,” Lord Brookhaven said. “Not everyone has taken a turn yet.”
“I may not stay,” she said. “I’m expecting a letter from a friend, so I shall just watch.”
By the time it was my turn, Mr. Merritt had the best score. It had taken him three hits with his wooden mallet to get the ball through the iron hoop at the end of the grassy alley. No one else had done it in less than five tries.
I set my feet on either side of the ball, drew back my mallet, and hit it.
I hadn’t shared the information that I’d played pall mall before.
Mrs. Southey believed it was an appropriate exercise for young ladies.
Therefore, the garden at Mrs. Southey’s school possessed an alley and iron hoop, and all the girls who boarded at the school were gifted a mallet their first Christmas, and there were spare mallets for the other girls.
I’d been playing pall mall since I was six years old.
The ball rolled straight. Lord Markeley’s eyebrows rose. “It’s still going.”
The small amount of conversation that had been going on suddenly ceased. Someone gasped. Then my ball passed cleanly through the hoop without touching.
“Oh my!” Millicent exclaimed.
“Well done!” Mr. Merritt clapped his hands.
Miss Allen’s voice trailed off as she said, “I’ve never seen anyone . . .”
Rose Rutledge was glaring, as was her mama.
“How did you do that?” Millicent said.
I couldn’t help smiling as I turned to Lord Brookhaven. “Your turn, my lord.”
“I’m not sure if there’s any need for me to take a turn now.”
“Don’t forget what you said, that we would play in a cutthroat manner and that there were to be absolutely no tears.”
His mouth fell open slightly.
Mr. Merritt guffawed and slapped his own leg. “She has you there, Brooksie!”
“Cutthroat indeed!” Lord Markeley was looking on with wide eyes and an even wider smile.