If the Slipper Fits (11 page)

“That’s good to know,” she said. “By the by, he was kind enough to lend me his handkerchief to hold the sugar that I spilled.” Annabelle reached into her pocket and placed the sadly crumpled scrap of linen on the table. “I was wondering, Mrs. Hodge, if it could be washed and returned to him.”

“I’ll take it t’ the laundry myself,” Mrs. Hodge said, dusting the flour off her hands. “I be needin’ t’ have a word wid the footman about his lordship’s bruckfast.”

She took the handkerchief and trotted out of the kitchen.

The ploy had worked better than Annabelle had hoped. She’d wanted a chance to speak to the maidservants without being under the cook’s watchful eye. If she could coax them into her confidence, she might convince them to share their knowledge of the family.

Swirling her spoon in the bowl of porridge, she remarked, “I must say, I feel blessed to have found a position in such a fine house. Do you both like working here at the castle?”

The maids bobbed their heads in unison.

“’Tis better’n plowin’ the fields an’ milkin’ the cows,” Moira said, paring a potato and then passing it to Livvy for slicing.

“Or shovelin’ muck fer me dad,” Livvy added.

Moira wrinkled her nose. “Ew, ’tis a nasty chore, t’ be sure. Did I ever tell ’ee about the time I slipped an’ fell in a big steamin’ pile? Stunk fer a week, I did. No one would sit aside me in church.”

That sent the girls into a fit of giggles.

Annabelle steered them back on topic. “His Grace is such a dear little boy. It’s a pity he lost his parents at so young an age. If you don’t mind my asking, I never heard what happened to them.”

Moira’s face sobered. “’Twas a terrible wreck of their carriage. The duke was drivin’ the duchess when they was run off the road.”

“Happened in London,” Livvy said solemnly, “not long after Samhain.”

“Samhain?”

“The last day in October month,” Livvy said. “There’s bonfires an’ feastin’ an’ dancin’ t’ mark the start o’ the dark time o’ year.”

All Hallows’ Eve. Though curious to hear more about the local customs, Annabelle had too many other questions and too little time in which to ask them. “Do you suppose the accident caused His Grace to become so quiet and shy? Or has he always been rather timid?”

The two girls stared blankly at her. “Timid?” Moira said, pausing in the act of reaching for an unpeeled potato. “His Grace is some fine, weel-behaved lad.”

“He’s most polite and mannerly,” Livvy added in his defense. “We’re proud t’ serve him, we are.”

Their allegiance to the duke apparently prohibited even the slightest whiff of criticism. “Oh, I meant no complaint,” Annabelle said hastily. “I merely wondered if perhaps he might still be grieving for his parents. So that I can better assist him, you see.”

“Ah,” Livvy said with a sage nod. “Well, Elowen says he’s the very best o’ lads. She’d be sure t’ tell us if he was forlorn.”

Elowen, the nursemaid, seemed a rather dull-witted woman who wouldn’t notice a fly if it sat on her bulbous nose. Not that Annabelle intended to voice that opinion.

“Thank you,” she said, “that’s good to know. Any information you can give me about the duke and his family is a tremendous help.”

The maids smiled. They looked more relaxed now, their hands busy at peeling and slicing potatoes. “We’re most always in the kitchen,” Moira said. “But we do hear things from time t’ time.”

Not wanting to appear a rumormonger, Annabelle paused to savor a spoonful of creamy porridge. “I understand that Lord Simon became His Grace’s guardian last autumn. It must have been a comfort to the child to have someone familiar in the house during his time of grief.”

“Oh, but his lordship din’t know His Grace a’tall,” Livvy said. “They’d ne’er before met.”

Annabelle dropped her spoon. “Never?”

“Aye,” Maura confirmed. “His lordship was a captain in the cavalry. For many years, he was away fightin’ in foreign lands.”

Annabelle hadn’t thought Lord Simon the heroic sort. Now she saw him in uniform on horseback, barking orders to his men and leading a charge into battle. Perhaps the news explained his brusque manner, for he must be accustomed to strict obedience. Then another picture entered her mind: Nicholas clutching the toy cavalryman in his hand. Was it possible that he admired his uncle as much as he feared him?

She would have to find out. The notion made her all the more determined to see if the rift between nephew and uncle could be bridged.

“Why does no one address him as Captain Lord Simon?” she said.

“The master thinks it too formal, seein’ how he resigned his commission,” Livvy said. “Mrs. Wickett told us so.”

“She’s the housekeeper,” Moira added, then blushed. “But I’m sure ’ee’s already met her.”

“It’s difficult to believe he didn’t return home on leave from time to time,” Annabelle said. “Nicholas is eight and that’s quite a lot of years to be absent from the family.”

The two maids exchanged a look. A silent communication passed between them as if they were debating how to respond to her comment.

“His lordship had good reason fer stayin’ away,” Moira said while glancing at the door. “But ’ee mustn’t think me a gossip fer sayin’ so.”

Too intrigued to finish eating, Annabelle pushed her bowl aside. “Please, do tell me. It’s important that I understand everything going on in His Grace’s life. I shan’t betray your confidence.”

“Well,” Moira said, “I know some that say his lordship was sweet on the duchess afore she was wed. They say the duke stole her away.”

“Lord Simon couldn’t bear t’ see his true love married t’ his older brother,” Livvy added. “’Tis said he enlisted in the cavalry and left England so he wouldn’t have t’ go t’ the weddin’.”

Annabelle sat back in her chair and tried to absorb the revelation. Lord Simon had once been madly in love with Nicholas’s mother. Was
that
why he wanted nothing to do with Nicholas? Because he couldn’t bear to look on the child who reminded him of his lost love?

Just stay out of my way. You and the boy.

The memory of his harsh words crushed the budding sympathy in her. She wouldn’t allow herself to make any sentimental excuses for his behavior. Lord Simon was a cold, aloof aristocrat with a shriveled knob in place of his heart. She would do everything in her power to keep him from mistreating Nicholas.

She realized the maids were still gossiping about Lord Simon.

Livvy was saying to Moira, “Lady Louisa’s always visitin’ here. Do ’ee think his lordship be keepin’ company wid her?”

“Blaamed if I know, but he did look sweet on her yesterday, smilin’ and such,” Moira said. “Mayhap we’ll see a weddin’ come spring.”

Livvy propped her chin on her work-chapped hands and sighed dreamily. “I surely hope so. Lady Louisa is so fine and pretty. No’ like that uppish Miss Griswold.”

“Or that oogly Lady Joan. What a cadge-o-bones she is!”

“If his lordship weds that one, he’d have t’ feed her a cartload o’ cream t’ fatten her up. Else he’d ne’er find her in the marriage bed.”

The maids burst out giggling. Annabelle smiled politely, though she didn’t join in their laughter. She was too busy considering what they’d said. Apparently, Lord Simon was being pursued by all the marriage-minded ladies in the neighborhood.

The notion caused a disturbing tension in the pit of her stomach. If indeed he married, what effect would it have on her place here? Perhaps his bride would embrace the role of mother to Nicholas. Would Lord Simon have no further use for Annabelle? After all, mothering the child had been the primary reason Lady Milford had sought out a governess for the duke.

Annabelle felt an even greater urgency to oust the vicar and take over His Grace’s schooling. Only then would she be indispensible.

Chapter 9

At teatime on Friday afternoon, when Nicholas was scheduled to have his weekly audience with Lord Simon, Annabelle couldn’t find the boy. One minute he’d been curled up on the window seat in his bedchamber reading a book, and the next he’d vanished.

His disappearance had happened at least in part due to her own vanity. She’d slipped into her chamber for a moment to check her appearance. The last time she’d encountered Lord Simon, in that dreadful incident with the sugar, she had looked slovenly in borrowed clothing. Suspecting he was shallow enough to judge her competence as a teacher on outward appearances, Annabelle was determined to look her best today. Accordingly, she’d worn the finest of her three new gowns, a blue silk that enhanced the color of her eyes. A lace spinster’s cap covered her neat bun. In the little mirror over the washstand, she looked sober and proficient, equal to the task of tutoring a duke.

But all her preparations would be for naught if she couldn’t find Nicholas. Where had he gone?

She searched his bedchamber, looking under the bed, behind the draperies, and inside the mahogany wardrobe. His copy of
Robinson Crusoe
lay abandoned on the window seat. Surely if he’d left the nursery, she would have heard his footsteps out in the schoolroom. Her door had been open during the few minutes of her absence.

“Your Grace?” she called. “Are you here? Your uncle is expecting us very soon.”

No answer.

She stepped out into the passage and peeked into Elowen’s chamber. The spartan furnishings gave the boy nowhere to conceal himself. She couldn’t ask the nursemaid for help because the woman had gone down to the servants’ hall to have her tea.

After fruitlessly combing through several other empty chambers, Annabelle could only conclude he must have slipped out in order to avoid the conference with his uncle. He’d disappeared the same way on their tour of the castle when they had encountered Lord Simon and his lady visitors in the drawing room.

But she’d hoped that Nicholas was beginning to trust her to protect him. After three days here, she had seen encouraging signs that he was warming to her. He’d diligently applied himself to art lessons after the vicar was gone for the day. They’d enjoyed several excursions downstairs to the library to choose books. Each evening, they had set up the toy soldiers in his chamber to fight mock battles. Today, though, he had been more reserved than usual and Annabelle flayed herself for not realizing he must have been dreading this meeting.

She glanced at the casement clock. Less than ten minutes remained before the appointment. “Your Grace!” she called once again. “Do come out. We haven’t the leisure to play hide-and-seek.”

Only the distant murmur of the sea answered her. Nicholas knew every nook and cranny of the castle. There were a hundred places where he might conceal himself.

Annabelle hurried out of the schoolroom and down the winding stone steps. At the bottom, a housemaid was on her hands and knees washing the floor with a rag and bucket. She stoutly professed not to have seen the duke. The news mystified Annabelle since there was no way out of the nursery other than down that particular flight of stairs.

Of course, Nicholas knew how to be quiet and stealthy. Perhaps he’d stolen by while the woman’s back was turned.

The other time he’d vanished, he hadn’t returned to the nursery straightaway. It had been an hour later that he’d reappeared in his bedchamber. He’d been stubbornly reticent on where he’d been, and Annabelle had been reluctant to press him.

Now she wished she’d done so. He must have a safe place that he retreated to whenever he felt threatened.

Spurred by urgency, she hastened on a search of the castle. Nicholas wasn’t in the great hall, the drawing room, or the chapel. Nor had he gone down to the cellars. She even raced back up to the nursery to check for him again.

All to no avail.

Breathless, she paused in a drafty stone corridor and tried to think of where else to look. Accompanying him to this weekly meeting was one of the tasks she’d wrested from Mr. Bunting’s control. She had a sinking suspicion that Nicholas had never dared to run away from the vicar. The poor child would have obeyed out of fear of being thrashed.

By comparison, Annabelle would appear weak and ineffectual. Nevertheless, she felt obliged to inform Lord Simon that his nephew had gone missing. It was a safe guess that the master of the castle would be less than pleased.

She trudged toward his study in the north wing, but her steps faltered when she spied his open door. It wasn’t too late to turn back. She could retreat to the schoolroom and ask a footman to deliver a note saying that Nicholas was unwell and the meeting must be postponed.

No. She mustn’t turn coward now. Better she should view this as an opportunity to discuss Nicholas’s schooling. Today, Lord Simon couldn’t claim he was too busy since he’d already set aside the meeting time in his schedule.

She took a deep breath for courage. Then she rapped lightly on the open door and stepped into the study. Having braced herself for a confrontation, Annabelle was disconcerted to find herself alone.

Lord Simon wasn’t even here.

The chair behind the mahogany desk was positioned at an angle as if he’d just arisen from it. A quill lay atop a stack of papers on the polished surface. By the fireplace, an untouched tea tray sat waiting on a table. The air held the faint tang of leather and spice, a heady masculine scent that she associated with him.

Had he gone in search of Nicholas? Surely not. By the mantel clock, she was only a few minutes late. Even a stickler for punctuality wouldn’t have given up already.

Deciding to wait, she ventured a few more steps into the room. The only other time she’d visited here had been on the day of her arrival. It had been dusk then, the chamber gloomy. Now, the bright sunshine gave the place a far more inviting aura. The windows looked out on the pearly blue expanse of the sea and the waves crashing onto the rocky base of the cliff.

On any other day, she would have been content to spend hours drinking in the wild beauty of the view. It was so very different from the landlocked hills of Yorkshire. But an edgy tension constricted her insides. She desperately wanted to get this interview over with and done.

To steady her nerves, Annabelle made a slow circuit of the room. A wall of oak shelves held rows of accounts books, some looking very old, the leather bindings cracked and faded. The rest of the study was decorated by an assortment of interesting oddities, and she distracted herself by examining some of the items on display.