Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
Gabriel returned to Anderton Manor late in the afternoon after spending several hours in the village settling disputes between tenants, reviewing accounts, and dealing with a merchant who appeared incapable of providing a direct answer to a direct question.
By the time he entered the foyer, he was already in a poor mood.
Unfortunately, Mrs. Jacobs appeared to have been waiting for him. The housekeeper hurried toward him with the determined expression of a woman carrying alarming news. Gabriel immediately suspected either a fire, a burglary, or a dead body.
“Your Grace,” Mrs. Jacobs said breathlessly as she clasped her hands together, “I felt you ought to know at once.”
Gabriel removed his gloves and handed them to a footman. “Know what?”
Mrs. Jacobs looked genuinely scandalized. “The governess…”
His irritation sharpened instantly. “What has she done?”
Mrs. Jacobs lowered her voice as though discussing criminal activity. “She is in the kitchen.”
Gabriel frowned. “The kitchen?”
“Yes, Your Grace,” Mrs. Jacobs replied. “Cooking.”
He stared at her.
“With your wards,” she added dramatically.
For several moments, Gabriel said nothing.
Then he pinched the bridge of his nose and wondered whether employing Amelia Shirley had been a catastrophic mistake.
The woman had been in his household for scarcely a few days and already seemed determined to ignore every established rule.
First, she had decided to cook. Now, she apparently involved the children in it.
Every conversation with her felt less like managing a governess and more like containing a natural disaster.
“And that is not all, Your Grace. She sent a letter,” Mrs. Jacobs added.
“A letter? Where?” he asked.
“I do not know,” Mrs. Jacobs said.
Without another word, Gabriel turned and headed for the kitchen.
As he approached, the sounds reached him before the scene itself. Laughter drifted through the doorway. Not polite laughter. Genuine laughter. The sort of laughter that had become increasingly rare within the walls of Anderton Manor. Gabriel stepped inside, then stopped.
The room looked as though it had survived an attack by an unusually aggressive sack of flour.
Amelia stood beside the preparation table with flour dusting her sleeves and a streak across one cheek.
David was covered in even more of it. Valerie appeared only marginally cleaner.
Mixing bowls, spoons, and ingredients occupied every available surface while several servants stood nearby wearing expressions of helpless resignation.
Gabriel’s eye twitched. Then he noticed David laughing. Not smiling. Laughing.
The boy was clutching his stomach while Grover sat beside him, hoping for dropped food. Gabriel’s gaze shifted towards Valerie. His niece was smiling as well, the expression bright and entirely unguarded.
For one shocking moment, Gabriel genuinely considered retreating before anyone noticed him.
Then Amelia looked up. Their eyes met.
Of course.
“Your Grace!” she called cheerfully. “Perfect timing.”
Gabriel remained where he was. “I sincerely doubt that.”
Amelia ignored the warning in his voice. “Come and help.”
“No.”
“You did not even consider it,” she pouted playfully.
“I considered it,” Gabriel replied dryly, “for less than a second.”
David laughed. Amelia pointed a wooden spoon towards him. “You are disappointing the children.”
“I suspect disappointing people is one of my more consistent talents.”
Valerie made a suspicious choking sound that looked remarkably like suppressed laughter.
Gabriel narrowed his eyes. His niece immediately became interested in the mixing bowl.
Amelia seemed entirely untroubled by his presence. “Very well,” she said as she resumed stirring. “You may stand there and glower if you prefer.”
“I do not…” Then he stopped. He had no mind to correct the governess that he did not glower.
“I had assumed as much…” she teased.
Gabriel folded his arms. He had absolutely no intention of participating. Unfortunately, leaving seemed equally impossible.
He remained where he was while pretending complete indifference to everything occurring around him.
The performance might have been more convincing had he not spent the next ten minutes observing every interaction.
David was talking more than Gabriel had heard him talk in so long.
Valerie occasionally contributed comments of her own.
Amelia somehow managed to keep both children engaged while simultaneously directing servants and preparing food.
It is all deeply suspicious.
When the custard and other treats were finally finished, Amelia stepped back and admired the result as though she had completed a masterpiece.
“There,” she declared proudly.
Mrs. Jacobs looked impressed despite herself. David immediately attempted to sample it. Valerie slapped his hand away before he succeeded.
Amelia laughed.
Then, to Gabriel’s horror, she announced another plan.
“We shall eat outside—a picnic. It is a lovely day for it,” she said.
Gabriel closed his eyes briefly.
Strike two.
Every one of these decisions had been made without consulting him. Apparently, his authority extended to every corner of the estate except wherever Amelia Shirley happened to be standing.
Valerie looked from the bowl of custard to Amelia with open suspicion. “A picnic?” she asked, lifting an eyebrow as though Amelia had proposed relocating the household to France.
“A picnic,” Amelia confirmed with satisfaction as she wiped flour from her hands onto an apron that had already surrendered any hope of cleanliness.
David brightened. “Outside?” he asked, bouncing slightly on his feet.
“Outside,” Amelia replied, pointing her spoon towards him. “Provided you do not attempt to eat all the custard before we reach the garden.”
The boy grinned shamelessly while several servants exchanged uncertain looks and began gathering dishes, blankets, and baskets.
Within moments, preparations were underway, and Gabriel felt the beginnings of a headache settle firmly behind his eyes.
In less than an hour, Miss Amelia Shirley had transformed his orderly kitchen into a social event.
As the activity continued around them, Amelia turned towards him with an expression that suggested she had entirely forgotten he was meant to be intimidating.
“Do you like custard, Your Grace?” she asked, tilting her head curiously.
Gabriel folded his arms. “No,” he replied.
“You have not tasted this one,” Amelia pointed out as she gestured proudly towards the bowl.
“I do not eat sweets,” Gabriel said, his tone making it clear that the matter had been settled years ago.
To his irritation, Amelia looked genuinely concerned. “That sounds rather miserable,” she said, studying him as though she had discovered a tragic medical condition.
Gabriel stared at her. Amelia smiled. The woman possessed a remarkable talent for being exasperating without appearing to realize it.
“Will you join us?” she asked after a moment, handing a spoon to David before returning her attention to Gabriel.
“No,” he answered at once.
“Not even for a few minutes?” Amelia pressed, watching him with infuriating optimism.
“I have business to attend to,” Gabriel replied, adjusting his cuffs as though the conversation were already over.
“That is unfortunate,” Amelia said with a small sigh.
“No,” Gabriel corrected, fixing her with a level stare. “It is necessary.”
Amelia merely shrugged as though she found his devotion to responsibility faintly amusing. Then she turned away and began directing the children towards the garden, apparently satisfied that she had made a reasonable effort to include him.
Gabriel decided that remaining any longer would only encourage further nonsense.
He left the kitchen. Unfortunately, his annoyance followed him all the way to his study.
Once behind his desk, he attempted to immerse himself in estate matters.
He reviewed tenant reports, signed correspondence, examined accounts, and organized several documents requiring his approval.
Ordinarily, such tasks demanded his full attention, but today, his concentration proved unusually unreliable.
Every few minutes, his thoughts drifted back towards the kitchen and the increasingly troublesome governess who seemed determined to overturn every established routine in the house.
Eventually, his gaze wandered towards the window overlooking the south lawn.
The sight awaiting him deepened his irritation.
A blanket had been spread beneath a large oak tree, and all three occupants appeared entirely content.
David sat cross-legged while enthusiastically describing something with dramatic hand gestures.
Valerie listened beside him, occasionally contributing remarks of her own.
Amelia sat between them with a smile on her face, appearing perfectly at ease amongst people she had known for only a handful of days.
Gabriel frowned. The scene should not have affected him.
Yet it does.
For the past year, every decision he had made had centered upon the children’s welfare.
He had ensured they possessed excellent tutors, comfortable rooms, proper clothing, healthy meals, and financial security.
He had protected them from uncertainty and fulfilled every practical responsibility placed upon him.
Watching them now, however, forced him to confront a truth he did not particularly enjoy.
Practical responsibilities are not always enough.
Valerie suddenly laughed at something Amelia said, and the sound carried faintly through the open window. A moment later, David joined in. Even Grover appeared delighted, wagging his tail enthusiastically as he sprawled across the blanket in search of attention.
Gabriel leaned back in his chair and frowned harder. The children had not laughed like that around him in months.
Perhaps longer.