Chapter 8 #2
Christopher nodded eagerly. “I think that sounds most agreeable. Especially the breakfast part.” The boy took the fresh pair of knickerbocker trousers, stockings, and a shirt that Mina offered, then darted behind the screen.
“I’m ever so hungry. I only had bread and an apple for dinner last night.
I’m not fond of jellied tongue and sprouts. ”
Mina pressed her hand to her mouth as her stomach lurched in sympathy.
Oh dear. She understood why her mother was so frugal when it came to meals—she was a widow with limited means and had a genuine fear of sliding into genteel poverty.
But really, jellied tongue and Brussels sprouts?
“I’ll make sure Cook gives you an extra slice of toast with your boiled egg,” she said.
“And there’ll be toast with marmalade too. ”
“Hurrah!” cried Christopher from behind the screen.
Fifteen minutes later, Mina was escorting Christopher downstairs to the parlor-cum-morning-room beside the kitchen.
The cook, Mrs. Appleton, and the housemaid, Lizzie, who were sitting at the scrubbed oak kitchen table enjoying their own early morning cup of tea, gasped in unison when Mina popped through the door.
“Miss Davenport,” exclaimed the cook, jumping to her feet. “We weren’t expecting you back ’ere at Rose Cottage for another week or two. Is everything all right?”
“Oh, yes, perfectly all right,” said Mina with a smile. “Although there’s been a change of plan. I’ve come to collect young Christopher and will take him back to London.”
The cook nodded sagely. “I expect that’s for the best, miss. What with the gentleman who called ’ere yesterday evenin’, askin’ about you an’ the boy.”
Mina’s blood ran colder than the water in the Arctic Circle. “What do you mean?” She pressed a hand to her chest, where her heart had begun to gallop most unsteadily. “What sort of gentleman? Did he identify himself? Did he ask for Christopher by name?”
“I don’t rightly know, miss. It was Lizzie”—she nodded at the housemaid—“who answered the door. And then your mother spoke to ’im. The upshot of it is, Mrs. Davenport sent ’im away wiv a flea in ’is ear, and the gentleman was none the wiser. About you or young Master Christopher.”
Mina sank onto one of the vacant kitchen chairs as relief flooded her. “What can you tell me, Lizzie?”
The girl twisted her apron in her hands.
“Not much more, miss. The fellow didn’t leave a card, an’ I’ve forgotten ’is name.
First, ’e wanted to know if you were ’ere an’ if you ’ad brought a young boy wiv long blond curls and a purple toy rabbit to stay.
’E even ’ad a photograph of you. Taken from a newspaper by the looks o’ it.
When you was at that fancy weddin’ of your duchess friend a few months ago.
But then Mrs. Davenport came to the door and told ’im you was in London and she knew nuffink about any boy.
So ’e could push off.” Then the maid blushed.
“Well, o’ course she didn’t tell ’im to push off exactly.
But you know what I mean. Your mother would not be bullied by no fancy gentleman from London. ”
Fancy gentleman? Mina swallowed to moisten her mouth, which suddenly felt as dry as the ashes in the grate. “What did he look like, Lizzie?”
The girl’s brow dipped into a frown. “’E was tall an’ ’ad salt-an’-pepper ’air an’ the bushiest eyebrows an’ muttonchops I’ve ever seen, miss. An’ ’e wore silver spectacles.”
So not Sir Bedivere Ponsonby. Mina breathed a sigh of relief.
The baronet had blond hair that was only graying a little at the temples.
He also sported a distinctive goatee beard and a thin mustache that his valet curled at the ends with wax à la Sir Walter Raleigh.
And he didn’t wear spectacles, not even when he was reading.
But that didn’t mean Sir Bedivere hadn’t employed a private detective or two to scour the countryside for his ward.
Thank heavens her mother had had both the pluck and the gumption to not give away anything pertaining to Christopher.
Mina thanked Mrs. Appleton and Lizzie for sharing their intelligence. While Christopher was taking breakfast, she would speak discreetly with her mother. The sooner she and Christopher were on their way to London, the better.
A short time later, when Christopher was happily tucking into his boiled egg with a battalion of buttery toast soldiers, and Mina was deciding whether to pour herself another cup of tea or go in search of her mother upstairs, Edwina Davenport appeared.
She burst into the morning room in a flurry of violet-patterned silk, fluttering hands, and exclamations of surprise that Mina had turned up so unexpectedly.
Once Mina had poured her mother a cup of tea, she quickly explained the reason for her unscheduled visit—that she’d come to collect Christopher because she had a new governess’s post and her employer was more than happy for the boy to reside with her; Christopher would be company for the gentleman’s ward who was about the same age.
She then ascertained that Lizzie and Mrs. Appleton’s summation of the mysterious “fancy” gentleman’s visit to Rose Cottage the day before had been accurate.
“What sort of mess have you gotten yourself mixed up in, Hermina?” asked her mother, once she’d recounted her own conversation with the far-too-nosy bespectacled stranger.
“Starting a new position in London is all well and good, but really, whatever this favor is that you’re doing for a so-called friend”—she nodded at Christopher who, thankfully, seemed completely engrossed in dunking his toast soldiers into his runny golden egg yolk—“is it really worth it?” Her face suddenly blanched whiter than the linen of her widow’s cap.
“You’re not involved in anything illegal are you?
” she whispered urgently. “That man yesterday—I think he said his name was Cheavers—he had a weaselly look about him. Like he was sly and up to no good.” She nodded at Christopher.
“That’s why I cut the boy’s hair. Because that man was looking for a child with long ringlets. ”
So her mother hadn’t lopped off Christopher’s curls just for the sake of it. “I appreciate the fact that you were only trying to keep Christopher safe,” said Mina in a low voice. “Although, you might have spared his feelings. Calling him a silly milksop was unkind and of course, not true.”
Her mother sniffed. “The boy was being difficult about it, and it was the only thing I could think of to say to get him to cooperate. I’d rather have him believe that I’m horrid than risk him getting taken away by that iffy fellow, Cheavers. The man had the meanest eyes.”
“Thank you for fending him off,” said Mina. “Hopefully he won’t bother you again. As soon as Christopher has finished his breakfast, we’ll be on our way.”
To Mina’s surprise, her mother suddenly reached out across the breakfast table and squeezed her arm. “You’ll take care, won’t you, Hermina? I know you can look after yourself, but … I can’t help but feel something is wrong. Call it a mother’s intuition.”
Touched—Edwina Davenport hardly ever displayed affection—Mina covered her mother’s hand with her own. “I’ll be careful, Mama. The gentleman I’ll be working for is most kind. And generous. You mustn’t worry.”
“You didn’t give his name earlier when you were talking about your new position,” said her mother. Her brown eyes brightened. “I’m sure he’s wealthy. But you only mentioned he has a ward, not children of his own. Does that mean he’s not married?”
“No, he isn’t married,” said Mina, praying that the warmth in her cheeks wouldn’t betray the fact that she might be harboring a teeny-tiny tendre for the Irish marquess.
“But he’s a nobleman, Mama. And I am but a governess and a lowly vicar’s daughter.
Besides, you know as well as I that the hired help should not fraternize with their employers.
The Parasol Academy expressly forbids it. ”
“That didn’t stop your friend Emmeline, who’s now a duchess,” remarked her mother with an arch of her brow. “And I’ve read Jane Eyre. Stranger things have happened …”
Mina would have been less shocked if her mother had slapped her across the face with a wet codfish.
She’d read Jane Eyre? Her mother occasionally browsed through magazines like Blackwood’s Lady’s Magazine or The New Monthly Belle Assemblée (which she borrowed from Dorothea) but Mina had never seen her read a novel.
Perhaps Edwina Davenport’s straitlaced attitude was softening as she got older.
“Emmeline’s situation was different,” said Mina with a decided nod of her head. “And Jane Eyre is a work of fiction.”
“I’m well aware,” her mother said, her manner suddenly as stiff as the starched linen tablecloth.
“But I’ve only ever wanted good things for you, Hermina.
And your sister. It’s why I’ve always asked you to be mindful of what you eat.
” Her gaze dropped to Mina’s bread-and-butter plate where her marmalade toast crumbs lay.
“I hope you only had one piece of toast. Because, mark my words, most men prefer wasp-waisted women. Your employer, whoever he is, won’t look twice at you if you gain too many pounds. ”
“Well, given the fact I have a career and I don’t wish to marry, I hardly think the circumference of my waist signifies,” said Mina equally as stiffly as she rose from the table.
Disappointment sat in her belly like a cold hard stone.
“If you’re finished, Christopher, then it might be time for us to be on our way.
We don’t want to miss the nine o’clock train. ”
The boy smiled and put down his napkin. “Very well,” he said brightly, hopping to his feet.
Another shadow of fear crossed her mother’s features as she glanced at the child. “I don’t know what you are embroiled in, Hermina, but I don’t like it. Not one little bit.”
“I know, Mama. I know.” Mina sighed as she held out her hand for Christopher.
“But rest assured, I will work out a way to resolve this … situation. All I ask is that you don’t tell anyone about …
” She nodded at the young viscount standing beside her, hugging his velvet rabbit.
“The less others know about any of this, the better.”
Her mother shook her head. “I’m starting to think I’d rather know nothing at all.” As she touched the curls escaping from her cap, she released a weary sigh. “I swear I’m getting more gray hairs by the day, my Hermina. Promise me you’ll stay safe.”
“I will,” said Mina, sending her mother a reassuring smile as she and Christopher headed for the door. “I’m a Parasol Academy-trained governess and trust me, we’re prepared for anything.”