Mariel (6 page)

“If you don't know—”

He smiled, showing even teeth. “I can't hurt it if it's broken. I might be able to fix it. I have worked on other machines.”

Reluctantly, she nodded. She stepped back to allow him to check all the wires she had never bothered to study. The car always worked, so she had not prepared for the time when it might break down. She explained the sounds it had made just before it coasted to a stop. With a nod, he leaned over it to check the motor and electrical connections.

She rubbed her sore fingers and watched him. When he stepped to the front and gave the key a sharp turn, she jumped as the motor purred to life. She laughed uneasily as he turned to see her astonishment. “Thank you, Mr.—?”

“Walter Collins, miss. You are welcome. Just a wire needed wiggling. Have your mechanic check it for you right away. I would not guarantee you could start it again tonight. You'd be smart to head straight for home.”

With a nod, she acknowledged his sound advice. She leaned across the front seat for her reticule. When she straightened, she found his eyes following the narrow lines of her gown. She bit back her normal sharp retort to such impudence. The man had helped her. She must be gracious to him. As always, her conscience spoke to her in Phipps's voice.

“May I offer you something for your kindness, Mr. Collins?”

“Nothing, miss.” He tipped his broad-brimmed hat. “'Twas my pleasure to help you.”

“But, Mr. Collins, I must insist.” Inspiration dawned, lightening her expression. “At least come to Foxbridge Cloister and let us offer you a meal and a night's shelter.”

His eyes narrowed slightly. “You are very shrewd to see I am in need of a roof over my head tonight, miss. Or I should say ‘my lady'?”

Waving aside his words, she stated, “I am Mariel Wythe. My name does nothing to change my obligation to you, Mr. Collins. Let me offer you a ride in my automobile that you have gotten started so efficiently.”

A slow smile spread across his face. He could not hide his boyish delight at having a chance to ride in the horseless vehicle. Although she guessed him to be more than a decade her senior, he leapt like a child into the passenger's seat.

On the journey back to the Cloister, Mariel was kept busy answering his questions about how the automobile worked. She showed him the acceleration lever and how the floor pedals regulated the rear wheels. He was properly impressed when she spoke about the automobile's speed. That she could drive in one hour what it took many a day to walk seemed miraculous.

Many of his questions she could not answer. She discovered her technical knowledge of her vehicle was sadly deficient. At the same time, she listened intently as he spoke of how much this motor was like other machines he had worked on. As they drove through the open gate of the Cloister and turned onto the road leading to the stables, she dared to voice the question nagging at her thoughts. “Mr. Collins, may I ask you something personal?”

“Personal?” He looked at her uneasy face shadowed by the coming twilight.

“Somewhat.” She wished her voice would not try to quiver as if she was begging for favors. “Do you have a position somewhere?”

“A job?” With a laugh, he leaned back on the plush seat and put his foot on the running board. “I could say I am between positions right now, my lady, but the truth is that I am broke. I am heading to Liverpool to look for something on the docks.”

She hesitated as she concentrated on driving the automobile over the lip of the stable floor. When it was garaged, she turned off the motor. In the uncomfortable silence, she said, “You have impressed me with your knowledge of machinery, Mr. Collins. Would you consider accepting employment here at the Cloister?” She smiled gently. “I am afraid it would not be simply taking care of the automobile.”

“Stable work?”

“We need someone.”

Taking the electrical cords from her, he stepped out of the car and plugged them into the generator at one side of the room. He came back to the car and leaned on it. With a grin, he shrugged his shoulders. “Why not? It's a job. If I don't like it, I can leave, right?”

“We pay well. I can offer—”

“No need, Lady Mariel. I am sure you pay fairly.” His hand caressed the leather decoration on the seats. “I am looking forward to working with this vehicle, and for you.”

“Wonderful. It's settled then. I will let Alistair know. He is the head groom,” she explained hastily. “You will be reporting to him.”

“Sounds fine.”

Unsure what else to say, she picked up her bag and stepped out of the vehicle. Telling him she would stop to see the groom on the way to the Cloister, she left him inspecting his new responsibility. She smiled, pleased with her decision to hire him. He clearly loved the car as much as she did. No one else on the grounds wanted anything to do with her toy. Phipps was kindest about it, and she called it a “noisy contraption.”

After enduring the head groom's grumbling about hiring a stranger with no references, Mariel returned to the main house. Dodsley greeted her with surprise as he crossed the foyer on his nightly inspection.

“Are you going to be able to get back to Foxbridge tonight? You are quite late for supper, Lady Mariel,” he said with his usual curiosity about what she did. She knew he never went to sleep before she arrived home safely on the nights of her late meetings at the school.

“The automobile was not cooperative this afternoon. I decided it would be better not to trust it. I am sure Mr. Gratton and the other members of the school board will not be sorry I am a bit late.” She laughed lightly as she placed her hat and veiling on a chair in the hallway. “They probably wish I would not come at all. A quiet meeting would seem like a welcome respite.”

“Would you like a tray, Lady Mariel? It might save you some time.”

She nodded, remembering she had skipped luncheon. “That would be lovely. Have it sent upstairs. I must rush if I want to get to the village this evening. Would you please tell Mrs. Puhle that I hired a new man to work in the stables? He will be taking his meals in the house.”

Although he could not hide his interest, he said only, “Of course, my lady.”

Racing up the stairs to her room, Mariel threw open her door, nearly into Phipps's face. The older woman frowned at the habitually disheveled appearance of her lady. When she started to reprimand Mariel, her comments were ignored.

“Not now, Phipps. I have to hurry. The automobile malfunctioned.”

“Malfunctioned?” she repeated, aghast. “My lady, are you—?”

Mariel interrupted impatiently, “I am fine. So is the automobile, but it must be recharged tonight, so I will have to take the buggy to Foxbridge. If I don't hurry, I will miss the meeting.”

“Lady Mariel, I want to talk to you.”

Grabbing a serviceable dress from her wardrobe, she hurried behind her dressing screen. She called from behind it, “Can this discussion wait?”

“I think not.”

A sigh of resignation was lost in the folds of the black satin skirt Mariel drew over her head. She straightened her blouse and tied the sashes at the waistband. As she rounded the screen, she dropped the dress she had been wearing onto the bed. She scowled at her reflection in the mirror and wondered how other women had mastered the skill of always being neat.

When she heard Phipps's foot tapping impatiently against the floor, Mariel turned. “All right. What did I do wrong now?”

Blue eyes paler than Mariel's own sparked with the frustration the older woman considered unladylike. Although she had been with Mariel since the girl outgrew the need for a nanny, Mariel had never seen Phipps lose her temper. Not that the gray-haired woman had not been given cause. Mariel had delighted in trying to see how far she could push the limits her companion imposed.

“You know as well as I,” stated Phipps quietly as she sat on the couch by the bed.

“If I knew, I would not have asked!” Mariel failed to understand how anyone could not speak her mind. Counting on her fingers, she went through the misdemeanors Phipps considered major crimes. “You have told me of the evils of going out without a hat and gloves. You have warned me about raising my voice to an incompetent underling, suggesting I teach each gently, as I would a child. You have lectured me on the state of my pink gown, which was ruined while I investigated the damage from the fire. That was this week. Do you want to talk about what we discussed last week?”

Phipps pointed to a chair. “Sit down, Lady Mariel.”

“I am going to be late!”

“Yes, you are going to be late, for you must listen to reason.”

When the young woman ran to answer the knock on the door and thanked the maid who brought the supper tray, Phipps leaned against the back of the sofa and closed her eyes. Although she never had told Lady Mariel, she loved her spirited charge as much as if she had been her own child. The candid, warmhearted woman did things Phipps never would have dared, despite the urgings of her sometimes rebellious heart. She never would change Lady Mariel, but she wanted her to learn to question the impulses that could send her on a headlong course with disaster.

Mariel set the tray on a table. Holding up the plate of sandwiches, she asked, “Would you like one, Phipps?”

“Yes, thank you.” She smiled as she selected a roast beef sandwich. It would be difficult not to like her lady, although Mariel let few know the real woman hidden behind the efficient Lady Mariel Wythe. Watching the young woman choose the sandwich she wanted, Phipps said, “I want to talk to you about Reverend Beckwith-Carter.”

“Ian?” She gulped to swallow the unchewed bite of bread and meat in her mouth. When Phipps's eyebrows arched at her use of Ian's given name, she lowered her eyes. She had given away too much by her reaction. Unsure how she felt, Mariel did not want to reveal those nascent emotions.

“I understand you took him for a drive in your infernal machine last week.”

“He was interested in how it worked, so I asked him if he wanted to ride in it.” Taking a large drink of tea, she demanded, “Is there anything wrong with being neighborly? You were angry before because I was impolite to him. Am I going to be disciplined for being gracious?”

Phipps sighed and placed her sandwich on the plate between them. “No, Lady Mariel. You are no longer a child. I cannot confine to your room when you misbehave.” She leaned forward and added, “You are a young lady.”

“Not so young.” She smiled. In a good approximation of Reverend Tanner's officious style of speech, she stated, “My dear Lady Mariel, I daresay you do not see that the days pass you by too quickly. Instead of flitting about the countryside like a flibbertigibbet, you should remember the greatest calling a woman can have. A husband. A family. A hearth, which reflects the serenity she brings to her home.” With an inelegant snort, she added in her own voice, “The old fool!”

“Lady Mariel! Do not try to change the subject.”

“I thought that was the subject.”

“Reverend Beckwith-Carter is the subject.” When she saw Mariel's face close up to hide the truth, Phipps's concern grew. “You should not go riding with a man without a chaperone. The automobile is no different from a buggy. A lady has a gentleman call on her at her home if he wishes to court her.”

Rising, Mariel went to the dressing table for a final glance at her appearance. All appetite had vanished. She kept her face hidden as she said, “He has no desire to court me. Very specifically, he told me that we would be friends.”

“And how do you feel about that?”

“Fine!” she snapped, already sick of lying to herself and her friend. “Don't wait up for me. I may be late.”

Mariel threw her cape over her arm and stamped out of the room. She could not speak of this now. As she waited in the foyer for the small buggy to be brought around to the front steps, she glared at the design of tiles on the floor.

Unsatisfied rage billowed through her. First Ian, then the automobile. Now Phipps, and even the Cloister. Everything seemed determined to conspire to change or control her life. She intended to put an end to that tonight. Her life was hers to live alone.

Whether she wished it or not.

Mr. Gratton pounded his gavel on the table which normally served as the teacher's desk at the front of the small classroom. Staring at the pages in front of her, Mariel hid her involuntary smile. She suspected that the chairman of the school board enjoyed his power when he stood before them each month. In the weeks between the meetings, he ran the pub. Under the watchful eye of his nagging wife, he served ale and enjoyed the conviviality of his patrons. That all changed when he entered this building to oversee
his
school board.

“Quiet, everyone! Let's get this meeting underway.” He glared at Mariel, although she was silent. When she merely smiled at him, he scowled. Lady Mariel planned something tonight. That would mean hours of debate about her latest radical idea on how the school should be run.

When he came into the classroom for the meeting, he had seen her by the blackboard talking to Mr. Jones, the upper-level teacher. Mr. Jones was receptive to her ideas, while Mr. Knowles, who taught the younger students, felt she was simply a troublemaker. What she and Mr. Jones had been concocting, Mr. Gratton feared he would learn all too soon.

The door at the back of the room opened. All heads swiveled as Reverend Beckwith-Carter entered and took a seat in the last row. His knees reached higher than the child-sized desktop. He said nothing as he placed his hat on the desk in front of him.

“Reverend, is there something we can do for you?” asked Mr. Gratton.

Ian smiled when his eyes met Mariel's. As her lips softened to give him the expression he had seen while they walked along the seaside precipice, he forced his attention back to the bulbous chairman. “I was under the impression that these meetings were open to the public.”