Chapter 18
On Monday morning, while Rosa was busy with Lady Celia, Anne walked to the poorhouse to deliver the stockings Miss Lotty had knit for the residents.
Mrs. Burdock, the keeper’s wife, accepted the offering with a warm, gap-toothed smile.
“Do thank her for me,” she said. “And a pleasure to meet you, Miss Loveday. Any friend of Miss Newland’s is a friend to all of us here. In fact, another friend of hers is here now. Dr. Finch? Came to look at a rash on the Jones boy and stayed to read to the children.”
“Really? How kind.”
Mrs. Burdock nodded. “They’re in the schoolroom now.
Come and see.” The woman led the way to the door of a small room containing a desk and wall slate.
Dr. Finch was sitting on an old wooden chair with children gathered on the floor around him.
Anne listened with surprised delight as he read from a book of fairy tales.
She quickly recognized the tale as Perrault’s The Master Cat; or, Puss in Boots.
Anne had read it to her half sister Matty more than once.
The story was about a miller with three sons.
The eldest inherited his mill, the second his donkey, and the youngest nothing but the cat.
The poor young man despaired of his future, but through a series of cunning tricks, the cat soon made them both rich.
Looking at the little faces listening to Dr. Finch in rapt attention, Anne leaned near the keeper’s wife and whispered, “They’re all so young.”
Mrs. Burdock nodded and whispered back, “The older ones are apprenticed to weavers and such like. The able-bodied men go out to work and the women clean or mend.”
Dr. Finch raised his voice to a high feline pitch as he read the part of the cat.
“‘Do not be so concerned, my good master. If you will but give me a bag, and have a pair of boots made for me, that I may scamper through the dirt and the brambles, then you shall see that you are not so poorly off with me as you imagine.’”
The children giggled, and Anne couldn’t help joining them.
Dr. Finch looked up, and noticing her, his face immediately reddened. “Oh, em. Just a little fun.”
“Sorry to interrupt,” Anne said. “Do go on.”
“Never mind. We’ll read the rest another time, children.”
This was met with a chorus of groans.
“No, no.” Anne insisted. “You must finish. This one has a happy ending.”
“Very well.”
He read the rest of the short story, although he curbed the funny voices, ending with “‘The cat became a great lord, and never again ran after mice, except for entertainment. The end.’”
The children clapped, and Anne again joined in.
Dr. Finch rose and excused himself, coming over to join the ladies.
Mrs. Burdock thanked him for the ointment for Tommy Jones and for reading to the children.
“My pleasure.”
Then she escorted them out. “Do come again. You are always welcome—the both of you.”
When they had bid the woman farewell, Dr. Finch walked with Anne partway back to Painswick Court.
“It was good of you to read to the children,” she said.
“Happy to do it. Though I’m embarrassed you heard my attempt to sound like a cat.” He sent her a sheepish grin.
“It was delightful.”
“I’ve had a fair amount of practice reading to youngsters lately. Or at least one. Little Robbie already loves books.”
“Then you’re raising him right.”
The doctor’s grin fell. “I am doing the best I can, but the Tufleys and I are poor substitutes for his mother. I pray Rosa will come to her senses and come home soon.”
Anne nodded her agreement. “In the meantime, Robbie is fortunate to have you.”
“That is kind of you to say. I hope you’re right.”
Later that day, Anne passed the parlour with a luncheon tray for Lady Celia.
Jasper rose and greeted her with a smile. “Miss Loveday, why do you not join us for dinner this evening? Mrs. Pratt is preparing quite a feast in honor of Kat’s birthday.”
This was the first Anne had heard of it. Lady Celia had said nothing about her daughter’s birthday.
“There is to be cake,” Mr. Dalby added from where he sat in an armchair, glass of golden liquid loose in his hand, though it was still early in the afternoon.
“Thank you. But a nurse does not dine with the family.”
“Come, you are not really a nurse,” Jasper said. “Professionally speaking, I mean. And besides that, you are an old friend.”
“It is kind of you to invite me, but Miss Fitzjohn wouldn’t want an outsider there. Not on her birthday.”
And suddenly there she was, in the doorway. Embarrassment heated Anne’s neck.
Katherine said, “On the contrary, Miss Loveday. I would enjoy some female conversation. I grow weary of only my two cousins at every meal.”
“Why thank you, Kat,” Jasper dryly replied.
“Again, it is kind of you, but I will leave you to your family dinner.”
“Nonsense,” Mr. Dalby said, taking up the cause. “You must eat after all.”
“Yes, but I usually have my meals belowstairs or take a tray to my room.”
“Certainly you can make an exception for one night—and for my birthday,” Katherine implored. “Mamma is too weak to manage the stairs, so you shall have to take her place. We are a sad party of three otherwise.”
Anne wondered if Miss Fitzjohn wished she could invite a certain man to her birthday celebration. She was surprised she had not, with her mother not present to object.
Mr. Dalby waggled his brows. First at Anne, then Katherine. “Perhaps we ought to invite the dashing doctor.”
Which one? Anne thought.
It was Katherine’s turn to give a dry reply. “Ha ha.”
“I’m sure Miss Stark could sit with Lady Celia in your absence,” Jasper suggested.
“I had thought to ask her to help me dress for the occasion,” Miss Fitzjohn said. “Do something with my hair.”
“Good idea,” Jude said. “A woman your age needs all the help she can get.” He said it in a teasing manner, ending with a wink, but Anne thought the quip more hurtful than funny.
From the deflated look on Katherine’s face, she thought so too.
“I am sure Rosa would be happy to help you,” Anne said, “though you are lovely as you are. I will send her to you.”
“Thank you, Miss Loveday. You see now why I would like you to join us.”
“Very well. I shall ask Lady Celia if she minds.”
“I’ll talk to her for you,” Jasper said. “Make sure she knows it was my—our idea. Then she can’t object.”
“Oh, she might,” Katherine said. “But I will express my desire for Anne’s company as well. She has rarely been able to resist the both of us when we team up. Is that not so?” She was responding to Jasper, but her eyes flicked to Jude Dalby as she said it.
“True indeed.” Jasper smiled, then turned to Anne. “I shall walk up with you now.” He took the tray from her and started toward the stairs.
“I’m coming too,” Katherine said, following.
Reaching Lady Celia’s room, Jasper greeted his aunt, set down the tray, and then broached the subject. “We’ve invited Miss Loveday to join us for Kat’s birthday dinner tonight, as you are not equal to the stairs. You do not mind, I trust?”
Lady Celia narrowed her eyes at first him, then her daughter. “What are you two up to?”
“Not a thing.”
“Whatever it is, leave Miss Loveday out of it.”
“We only want her company,” Katherine said.
“Besides, you will likely be asleep by the time we sit down and won’t miss her.” Jasper grinned to soften the words.
“It’s that dashed sleeping draught. . . .”
“You have been more tired of late, Mamma,” Katherine said. “You must own it. Your heart—”
“Yes, yes. Well, at least you acknowledge I have one.”
Jasper added, “You know Miss Stark will be right next door.”
“Very well.” She waved a dismissive hand. “Anne may go to your birthday dinner.”
“Thank you, Mamma. We shall save you a piece of cake.”
They turned to go.
Lady Celia called after them, “You did not invite anyone else to this soirée of yours, I trust?”
Katherine turned, jaw set. “No, Mamma. I did not.”
That evening, Anne brought up Lady Celia’s dinner tray, helped her sit up in bed and eat, and then gave her the prescribed medicine.
Together she and Rosa helped her change into a fresh nightdress and clean her teeth.
They then settled her back under the bedclothes so the woman would be ready to sleep, since she had begun nodding off earlier and earlier.
After that, Anne read to Lady Celia for a time, while Rosa went to help with Miss Fitzjohn’s attire and hair.
By the time the younger woman returned, Lady Celia had already drifted to sleep.
Anne went into her narrow cabinet of a room and changed into one of Rosa’s evening dresses she’d insisted Anne wear.
Rosa came in and did up the fastenings and assured her the gown suited her well.
Rosa offered to arrange Anne’s hair as well.
Anne thanked her but declined. She did not wish to appear too eager, nor to rival Miss Fitzjohn in looks, especially tonight.
When Anne went downstairs, she found Mr. Dalby and Colonel Paine in the parlour having a drink before dinner. Both were handsome in evening attire, although Mr. Dalby did not seem as attractive to her as he once had.
Miss Fitzjohn had yet to join them.
“Will you have a sherry, Miss Loveday?”
“No, thank you.” Anne felt out of her element and wanted to keep a clear head.
“Lemonade?” Jasper suggested.
“Yes, please.”
He signaled for the footman to fetch some.
“No sign of Miss Fitzjohn?” she asked.
“Not yet,” Mr. Dalby said. “Probably still undergoing her beauty treatments.”
Anne knew Rosa had finished helping her several minutes before but made no comment.
The footman returned with a glass of lemonade for Anne, which she accepted, grateful for something to occupy her hands and to wet her nervously dry mouth.
She realized Mr. Dalby was staring at her. “Your dress, Miss Loveday . . . Have I seen it before?”
“Oh. It’s Rosa’s. She insisted I borrow it.”
“It becomes you,” Jasper said kindly.
“Ah, that explains it,” Dalby said, eyes glimmering as he looked into the vague distance . . . or his memories.