Chapter Ten #2
“Be careful it’s a vicious, savage wildca…
” His voice trailed off. The vicious beast that had scratched his hands to bits was snuggled against Miss Tibby’s chest, purring like a coffee grinder and butting her chin with its big, ugly head.
Its single yellow eye winked with evil smugness at Ethan as its mistress crooned over it like a baby.
“Oh, Mr. Delaney, thank you so much! I thought he was lost forever.” Tears sparkled on the ends of her lashes, but they were happy tears.
Her cheeks were flushed and not the ghost pale they had been.
She kissed the cat’s head repeatedly, nuzzling his fur, stroking and caressing the ugly beast as if she thought it the most beautiful creature in the world.
Women were strange, he thought, not for the first time. “I knew you were worried about him, so…”
“I was, and I can’t tell you how grateful I am. But how did you find him? He doesn’t usually come to men.”
He hadn’t come to Ethan, either. Ethan had coaxed him into a shed with a trail of ham pieces he’d bought at a farmhouse, then he’d trapped him in the corner and flung his coat over him.
The cat had put up a mighty struggle, but Ethan had prevailed, at the cost of his hands, a half-shredded shirt, a ruined waistcoat, and a stained coat.
“Oh, I have a way with animals,” Ethan said modestly. It wasn’t a lie, he thought. He did have a way with most animals—just not fiends from hell.
They sat there for a while, in silence, her crooning over the cat and him watching, bemused.
She was such a lady, so small and neat and finicky-looking.
He could understand her owning a cat, yes—a small, fluffy creature, with dainty ways and neat habits.
But this overgrown, ugly, scarred old bruiser, now that was a mystery.
After a while he realized she’d gone quiet. Too quiet. He couldn’t see her face; it was hidden by the cat. He ducked his head forward and snatched a look. Tears were rolling down her cheeks.
He wanted to say something comforting, but could think of nothing.
A sniffle escaped her. Ethan pulled out a handkerchief and handed it to her.
She put the cat down and took the handkerchief with a muffled thanks.
She mopped her cheeks with it then blew into it with a fierce feminine blast. The cat sat kneading her thighs with paws and claws.
“I’m sorry,” she muttered. “You saved Kitty-cat and he’s the most important thing in the world to me. I know I’m lucky and I’m trying to be stoic. That’s why I came out here. I don’t want Callie to see me like this. She blames herself, I know.”
“She didn’t set fire to the cottage.”
“I know. But she knows who it was and…She takes the weight of the world on her shoulders, that girl. She always did take everything to heart. It’s her strength, but also her weakness.”
“Seems to me you’re takin’ a deal on your shoulders, yourself. It’s not her you should be worryin’ about. You’re the one who’s lost everything.”
“I haven’t lost everything. I’m just back to where I started after Papa died. Except then I had—had my books.” Her words brought on a fresh battle with choked-back tears.
Her determination not to make a fuss touched him unexpectedly.
Feeling out of his depth, Ethan patted her on the shoulder.
He was more familiar with the sort of females who made their emotions very clear.
Dolores, his last mistress, had thrown things and wept loudly and dramatically. Ethan understood that.
After a few minutes she regained control of herself and blew another fierce blast into the handkerchief. “I’m sorry. It’s the books I mind losing most.”
“Books?” Ethan asked cautiously. She’d lost her home, with all its pretty bits and pieces, so neat and shining and obviously loved, and she was grieving over books?
“Oh yes, my books are—were very precious to me. Some of them belonged to dear Papa. He was a fine scholar, you know, and his books were rare and irreplaceable. And others…some of my books were like friends, they gave me such comfort.”
“Ah,” Ethan made a sympathetic sound. He had no idea what she was talking about. Books like friends? Giving comfort?
The only book that had ever given comfort to Ethan was one he and a couple of others had burned one freezing night in the mountains of Spain. One of the others had found it in a looted house. It was a big book. It had kept them warm for an hour or two.
He didn’t understand, didn’t know what to say to comfort her. Apart from horses, he owned very little, just his clothes and a few bits and pieces. Nothing that couldn’t be tossed in a valise.
He looked out of the salt-covered windows. It was almost dark outside. “Cottages can always be rebuilt,” he said.
“I can’t afford it. I had a small sum of money put by, but only enough to eke out a frugal living, supplemented by my chickens and my garden. The cottage was my sole asset. It was what allowed me to be independent, that and the small amount of income I earn from giving music lessons.”
“So what will you do?”
She sighed. “I suppose I will have to go back to being a governess.”
“Did you not like that, ma’am?”
She didn’t answer. She picked up the cat again and buried her face in its fur.
Ethan knew what her silences meant now. He patted her on the shoulder again. She felt like a brittle little bird under his great clumsy paw.
The cat gave him a baleful look. Ethan sneezed.
After supper Callie kissed Nicky good night and came downstairs. What a day it had been. According to Nicky, it had been the best day of his life.
She had no doubt that for Tibby it was the worst.
She joined the others in the drawing room. Tibby was sitting by the fire, her cat in her lap, talking to Gabriel. Mr. Delaney was seated at a nearby table playing a solo card game.
“I’ve been explaining to Mr. Renfrew and Mr. Delaney that I have decided to return to my former profession as a governess,” Tibby said.
“If you don’t mind, Callie, I have asked Mr. Renfrew if I could come with you to London.
I will need to purchase some new clothes and London would be the best place to secure myself a post.”
“There is no need to look for a post,” Callie said instantly. “I will employ you as Nicky’s governess.”
Tibby shook her head. “No, my dear. It’s very kind of you, but I am not nearly well educated enough for Nicky’s needs. I am well enough schooled in female accomplishments, and I have a little mathematics but as for Greek, Latin, and the rest, no.”
“Then I shall employ you as my companion.”
Tibby gave her a straight look and said in a firm voice, “Princess Caroline, you are not responsible for the destruction of my cottage, and I will not be your pensioner.”
Callie gave her an unhappy look. She was responsible for the burning of the cottage. If she hadn’t fled to Tibby, it wouldn’t have happened. But Tibby had her pride.
Gabriel leaned forward. “Would you consent to employment with me, Miss Tibthorpe?”
Tibby frowned. “In what capacity?”
“As a governess. I need someone to teach young Jim to read and write.”
“What?” Ethan Delaney exclaimed. Gabriel gave him a cool look, and he returned to his card playing.
“It seems most unlikely that Jim’s father will return, and as Mrs. Barrow is hell-bent on importing the imp to my house, I have no choice but to educate him.”
Callie was delighted with the solution, but also puzzled, and more than a little wary. To take in an orphaned fisher boy and pay someone to educate him was highly irregular.
Tibby frowned, no doubt having the sort of doubts Callie was. But she was homeless and in need of an income. And while she would not take charity from her old pupil, it would be foolish to turn down a legitimate offer of employment.
“If you are sure, Mr. Renfrew, then of course I accept your offer, gratefully. I will instruct Jim until he reaches a standard sufficient to take his place in the village school along with boys of his own age. After that, I could not possibly trespass on your generosity any further.”
“I thought this might be an appropriate remuneration.” He handed her a slip of paper on which a figure was written.
Tibby glanced at it and flushed. “It’s far too generous,” she said lamely.
“Nonsense, that boy will be a handful, I’m sure. Sharp as a knife, but rough around the edges. He’s run wild all his life, I’d say.”
Tibby smiled. “Oh, I don’t mind that. I like Jim and his rough edges. He has a bold and curious spirit. For the time being, I’ll instruct the two boys together. Coming from such very different backgrounds, there is much they can learn from each other.”
Ethan looked up from his cards. “What would a crown prince have to learn from a lad like Jim, a lad who can’t even write his own name?”
Tibby turned to him and said composedly, “Just because Jim’s never had the opportunity to learn does not mean that he isn’t an intelligent and valuable human being, Mr. Delaney.
With a little education, who knows what Jim could make of his life?
People may be born into poverty and ignorance, but they do not have to remain so.
” She folded the sewing she was doing and put it aside.
“Perhaps I picked up a few radical notions from my father, but I believe people can learn much from walking in another’s shoes. ”
Ethan stared at her.
“Besides,” Tibby went on. “I expect most of Nicky’s learning will have come from books. Jim, on the other hand, though wholly untutored, has a vast store of knowledge of the natural world. And excels in the practical application of it.”
“Miss Tibthorpe, it’s a shame you never met my great-aunt Gert,” Gabriel said. “I believe you would have had a great deal in common.” He nodded toward the painting of the severe-looking woman.
Tibby suddenly frowned as if she’d just thought of something. “How can I teach Nicky with Jim when you are taking him up to London tomorrow?”