Love on Assignment (23 page)

Professor Wilmont reached toward her. For a moment she thought he'd wrap his arm around her shoulder, but instead, he dropped it to his side. A pinch of disappointment squeezed her chest, along with relief.

“I'm really easy to talk to, Charlotte.”

He was her boss. Her temporary boss. Nothing more. “I'll remember that, sir. I'm going down to the kitchen for tea. Would you like me to bring you a cup?”

“Yes please, if you'll join me on the veranda.”

Charlotte hesitated. “Of course, sir. If you wish.”

A short time later they sat side by side on the wicker chairs, teacups in hand. A mild breeze buffeted Charlotte's flushed cheeks and hummed in her ears. It carried the scent of the sea and blended with perfume from wild roses that grew along the shore and in the garden. She breathed deeply and her heart calmed.

“Charlotte, I want to thank you for listening to me last night”—he grinned—“and giving me your opinion.”

“I apologize if I spoke too forcefully, but I did—enjoy—our conversation, as well, though it wasn't altogether proper. I'm a governess, not someone you'd ordinarily confide in.” She ought to excuse herself and run from his radiant gaze.

“Normally I don't confide in anyone.” He hesitated for a moment. “Charlotte, I'd like to spend more time with you. As long as you don't think I'm too intrusive, I'd love to hear more about your family and your childhood—”

Charlotte stiffened her back. Her teacup and saucer rattled in her shaking hand. “Sir, I don't believe that's suitable or wise.” She gulped. “And why do you want to know about me? I'll only be here for a short time and then you'll never see me again, except perhaps around town. So what is the point of learning more, sir?”

Obviously taken aback, Professor Wilmont gazed at her, his eyes soft and filled with emotion. “I've grown fond of you, Charlotte. I thought we liked each other's company. Was I wrong?”

At first her words clogged in her throat and she had to force them out. “I'm a temporary employee in your home, nothing more. You best remember that, sir. And so must I. I ought to check on the children.” She stood.

The light in his eyes dimmed. “I'd hoped that in time something more might develop between us. It doesn't matter to me whether you're a governess or a great lady from one of the cottages.”

“Oh, but it does matter. It matters very much.” Charlotte set her cup down on the table. Tea splashed in the saucer and her spoon rattled against the china. Then he arose and his size alone overpowered her. But a man with such kind eyes could never intimidate.

“Sir, you think you want to know me better,” she said, daring to look up at him, “but if you did, you'd be disappointed. I'm not the woman for you. So let's forget we ever said these things.”

“Indeed, you should.” A strident voice interrupted. “This is disgraceful, Daniel. Charlotte, leave me alone with my son.” Mrs. Wilmont leaned against the doorway, her face parchment white. Slightly hunched, she appeared physically fragile, yet fierce in spirit. Her eyes burned bright. “Go, Charlotte. Now.”

Charlotte scurried inside but lurked behind the door, poised to listen. Her heart pounded so loudly she feared she wouldn't hear Mrs. Wilmont's voice. But she did hear every angry word.

“What is the meaning of this ridiculous talk between you and the governess? What's gotten into you?”

Daniel answered in a level tone. “I'm quite fond of Charlotte and I'd like to really get to know her.”

“That's out of the question. If you want a wife, find one who is suitable, not a town girl with no money and no background. You've taken leave of your senses.”

“Mother, I see no point in discussing this.”

“I want her dismissed, Daniel.”

A long pause ensued. Charlotte held her breath until she heard Professor Wilmont's calm voice.

“She stays.”

They were coming in. Charlotte quickly retreated to the library. While the professor strode down the hallway, his mother followed at a slower pace, sputtering her objections all the way. Charlotte drew a sigh of relief when no one noticed her beside the high bookshelf.

Professor Wilmont's declaration of interest had startled her. She'd liked him right from the beginning, though she didn't wish to admire the man she was sent to destroy. But she had never expected
liking
might blossom into genuine
fondness
.

Under different circumstances she might allow Professor Wilmont into her life, though no matter what the conditions, she wasn't sure she
wanted
a man, and a religious one at that. Of course, all this speculation was silly. It was over before it had even begun, anyway. The notion of romance was as utterly preposterous. Charlotte sighed and left the library in search of the children.

Finding the game room empty, she headed down to the kitchen where she found them devouring cream puffs.

“Come join me for a short break while the young ones indulge,” Mrs. Finnegan urged. “How about walking over to the garden? The fresh air would do us both a world of good.”

“I'd like that. Ruthie, Tim, please stay put until I return.”

They nodded as Tim reached for another treat.

Charlotte followed behind Mrs. Finnegan as they exited the cottage and started down the pebbled path toward the rose garden.

“I want to talk to you without big ears listening to every word. Let's sit for a spell.” Mrs. Finnegan swatted a bee that buzzed around her crooked bun.

They strolled beneath the rose arbor and inhaled the fragrance of hundreds of blossoms.

“What is it? Did I do something wrong?” Charlotte asked as she dropped onto a stone bench shaded by the skirt of a leafy maple. Mrs. Finnegan lowered her considerable bulk beside her.

“No, dearie. But to be blunt, the staff is gossiping about you and Professor Wilmont. Your friend Grace probably gave you an earful already. Didn't I try to hush those wagging tongues, but it's near impossible when they all see how fondly he looks at you. He's not one to hide his affection.”

Charlotte sighed. “I want you to know the professor behaves most honorably toward me.”

Mrs. Finnegan chuckled. “O'course he does. He's a gentleman, through and through. But he's lonely.” She leaned toward a prime rosebud, bent to sniff it, then looked back at Charlotte. “Let me tell you about his wife, Sarah, God rest her soul. I think it's important to know a bit o' the past, in order to engage the present.”

“Of course.” Charlotte shifted her weight on the uncomfortable stone.

“A society girl, Sarah was. Rich and elegant like the millionaire ladies living in those Bellevue Avenue palaces.” The old lady's gaze sharpened. “I'll not be saying a word against her because it's wrong to speak ill of the dead. She was a lovely young woman with a zest for living. But not easily satisfied.” Mrs. Finnegan opened her mouth as if to say something more, then clamped it shut.

Charlotte turned her face to the side, afraid to reveal her feelings for a man she had no right to care for. “The professor loved her?”

“Indeed, in his own way. He's gone without love and happiness for a long while, the poor man. And it began far before Sarah died. He is lonely.” Mrs. Finnegan searched Charlotte's face with questioning eyes. Frowning, she tilted her head. “Forgive me for saying so, but it's easy for a young miss to fall for a gentleman without meaning to. When I was a lass and new in service, I tumbled head over heels in love with my employer's son. But I soon realized happiness lay with the head gardener, Mr. Finnegan. And marry him, I did. Thank the good Lord for showing me the way. We two . . . we
belonged
together.”

Charlotte bit her lip from the not-too-subtle warning. Mrs. Finnegan was probably smart to marry among her own class and nationality. Charlotte knew she ought to take heed. The barriers separating her from the professor stretched far beyond even those differences. They were impossible to overcome. If he knew . . . knew the full extent of her duplicity . . . She shook her head and forced a smile.

“You're right, Mrs. Finnegan, and I thank you for your wise words. You needn't worry about the professor. I have no intention of ever being anything more to him than his children's governess.”

In the last light of evening, Charlotte sat by her bedroom window, cleared her mind of the day's events, and read another newspaper column written by the professor. His columns had certainly piqued her interest in spiritual matters.

We're creatures designed by God, for God. He has a purpose and a plan for each and every one of us, which He wishes us to follow. But first we must place Him first in our lives, confess our transgressions, and ask for forgiveness. Then we must place the needs of others before our own. This is almost always a difficult and often a painful task. But with the Lord's help, it is possible, and it's what He wants from us and commands of us.

Charlotte returned the column to the others on her chest of drawers. What kind of plan or purpose did the Lord have for her life? Of course He wanted her to care for her family. But did He have something else in mind as well? If she was supposed to pursue journalism, then surely He wouldn't want her to use deceptive methods to advance. Charlotte sighed as she glanced out the window into the dusky sky.
Lord, if You have a purpose for me, please show me what it is and how I ought to go about it. This is all quite confusing. But I think You can make things clear
.

Maybe God had another plan in mind, other than a career. She'd have to wait and see and continue to pray. If she hadn't come to Summerhill, she never would've paid much attention to the professor's columns and turned toward the Lord. Was that part of God's plan too?

THIRTEEN

T
wo days later, Daniel feared this Sunday morning would be especially chaotic without Charlotte to haul the children out of bed and find appropriate church clothes. After breakfast all the servants had Sunday morning free for worship service. So he was on his own and unprepared. Usually his mother found Tim and Ruthie appropriate clothes, but today she was in bed sleeping, still tired and weak.

He checked on Ruthie and Tim and found them both dressed for church and waiting in their playroom.

“I'm ready to go, Papa. Miss Hale and I picked out my church clothes.” Ruthie spun around in a white frock with a blue sash at her waist, her face aglow. “Do you like my new dress?”

“You look lovely.”

She smoothed her auburn hair pulled back at the crown with a ribbon. “Miss Hale fixed my hair differently. No braids.” Glancing in the mirror, she examined her reflection. “What do you think, Papa? Do I look older?”

Daniel laughed. He was hardly the best one to judge hairstyles. “Beautiful. And I do believe you look all of thirteen.”

A minute later, Tim appeared in the playroom nearly awake and dressed in a sailor suit with a crooked navy blue tie.

“Since we're presentable, perhaps we can have a quick breakfast and leave for church.” Oatmeal soon arrived via the dumbwaiter and the three ate in the playroom.

As they headed for the door after breakfast, Bibles in hand, Charlotte stepped into the room.

“Good morning, everyone.” Her gaze swept by Daniel and settled on the children. Automatically she adjusted Tim's crooked blue tie and pulled down the bunched shirt of his white sailor suit.

Delight mixed with anxiety rippled through Daniel's chest. Yesterday he'd declared his feelings for her and she'd rejected his overture.
So be it
. A person couldn't force someone to care for them. He'd learned that sobering lesson from Sarah. He'd leave this in the Lord's hands and pray that He had a plan to somehow bring them together. Their friendship might appear unsuitable to many—probably most—people, but he didn't think their social differences should raise an insurmountable barrier. At least for him, they counted for little.

He twitched a smile when Charlotte entered the playroom. “We'd be pleased if you'd join us for church, Miss Hale. We're about to start off.”

Bewilderment flashed across her face before she nodded. “Of course, if you'll excuse me, I'll fetch my hat.”

She returned in short order dressed in a becoming light gray skirt and jacket and her unadorned straw hat. Softer and lovelier than in her uniform, Charlotte Hale was the prettiest woman he'd ever seen.

“Shall we go?” Daniel's voice scratched.

They departed Summerhill, cut across the lawn, and headed for Cove Road, the easiest route to the campus church.

“You forgot your Bible, Miss Hale.” Ruthie's face scrunched in a frown as they strolled across the dewy grass.

“So I did.” Charlotte smiled and continued to walk.

“We'll wait for you if you want to get it,” Daniel said.

She shook her head. “It's not necessary, is it?”