The Runaway McBride (6 page)

Until she had come face-to-face with him today. God in heaven, what had come over her? She’d felt as though a shard of glass had entered her heart, and she’d wanted him to know how much she despised him. After so many years, she should have felt nothing. What she should have done was turn on her heel and stalk out.

“Faith, did you hear me?”

Pulled from her thoughts, she looked at her friend. “Yes,” she said, “
that
Burnett,” and she pulled a chair up to the empty grate.

“What did he say?”

Faith winced. “I didn’t give him a chance to say anything.” She shook her head in disbelief. “Oh, Lily, you wouldn’t have recognized me. I kept telling myself to be dignified, but when I opened my mouth, I let fly at him like a fishwife.”

“Hah!” declared Lily. “When I remember what that bounder did to you, I’m surprised you didn’t let fly at him with an ax.”

Lily had a lot more to say about James’s character, or lack of it, but Faith wasn’t listening. She couldn’t believe that one chance meeting, if it was chance, could have had such an effect on her. She felt like that young girl again, when she’d discovered that he’d become engaged to Lady Fiona Shand. She’d been numbed by grief and shock. The pain was so crippling, she hadn’t been able to eat or sleep for weeks. She’d thought there was something special between them only to discover what a fool she had been.

He’d spent three months in Scotland, dealing with a crisis in one of the railway lines he was heavily invested in, with only the odd terse message to her, and the first real news she’d had of him was in the morning
Gazette
. It seemed that James’s constant companion at every function and party that Edinburgh had to offer was Lady Fiona Shand, and it was expected that their engagement would be announced within the week. Lady Fiona was the daughter of Lord Shand, one of Edinburgh’s leading entrepreneurs.

Lady Beale wasn’t surprised. She’d heard that James had lost a great deal of money in his railway venture and was only doing what many a man had done before him: taking a rich wife to pay off his debts. It had obviously never occurred to her ladyship that there could be anything between her paid companion and a man of his standing.

Faith didn’t believe a word of it, but when his letters dwindled to few and far between, she’d decided to act. She’d handed in her notice, and she’d set off for Edinburgh to see James in person. She hadn’t seen James, but she’d seen enough and heard enough to convince her that the gossip was true. James was going to marry Lady Fiona.

He was a widower now. Fiona had suddenly been struck down by typhus, that most lethal and dreaded disease of the age. Faith hadn’t written him a letter of condolence. Somehow, it would have seemed inappropriate coming from her.

Lily’s harangue eventually died away, and when they were drinking their chocolate, she said, “What have you told Robert about the bounder?”

Faith blinked and turned her head slowly to look at her friend. “Nothing. Why should I tell Robert anything?”

Lily made a clucking sound with her tongue. “I think he means to ask you to marry him.”

“I hope you’re wrong.” With a weary sigh, Faith shrank into her chair. “In fact, I’m sure you’re wrong. Robert and I are friends, nothing more.” Lily’s look of skepticism made her elaborate. “He doesn’t think of me in that way, and I certainly don’t think of him in that way, either. His father is on the school’s board of governors. He’s interested in the kind of education we provide and, of course, we have a common interest in all things Greek and Roman. That’s all it is.”

When Lily continued to stare at her with raised brows, she felt compelled to add, “I’ve never given him the slightest encouragement.”

“You don’t have to give him encouragement! All you have to do is be yourself. You listen to whatever he is blathering about and ask intelligent questions. With me, it’s in one ear and out the other. Robert Danvers may be the biggest catch in Bloomsbury, but he’s a bore, leastways, when he is with his father. When the cat is away, it’s a different story. Robert comes out to play. Who can trust such a man—a model of virtue when his father is looking over his shoulder, and the gay cavalier when he gets out on his own? Rumor has it that his only interests, apart from pretty girls, are horses and gaming.”

“Rumor!” Faith scoffed. “Don’t believe everything you hear. And if he is interested in pretty girls, he is hardly likely to offer for me.”

“All I’m saying is watch your step.”

Lily’s words had given Faith something to think about. It was only recently that Robert had taken to visiting St. Winnifred’s regularly. Before that, he’d put in an appearance on special days, but that was only to please his father. When he’d heard, however, that her father had taught classics at Oxford, he’d taken an interest in her, or rather, he’d become interested in the books she could lend him to enlarge his knowledge of classical culture and history.

Leastways, she hoped that was all it was. He was a blond-haired Adonis whom all the senior girls were mad about, yes, and a few of the teachers, too. But not she. Her limited experience of men had taught her that a girl’s best friend was between the covers of a book. And, if you didn’t like what it said, you could throw it against a wall and stomp all over it.

She’d inherited her love of books from her father. Her happiest memories as a child were tramping around England on the holidays, exploring the ruins of the ancient Romans. One day, her father had promised her, they would go to Greece and Italy and visit the places she’d only read about in books.

They never had, of course. Her father was a father first and a don second. He wouldn’t go without her, and he’d never had the kind of money to take her with him.

Lily drank the dregs of her cocoa then said, “What did you mean, he doesn’t like you in that way and you don’t like him in that way either? ”

Faith snapped out of her thoughts. “What?”

“You heard me!”

Faint color ran across Faith’s cheeks. She’d been thinking of James. Even when she was an inexperienced young woman, a look, a word from him could turn her insides to custard, and that was before she’d come to know him. And today, when she’d least expected it, it had happened again.

She must need her head examined.

Hands on hips, Lily came to stand in front of Faith. Her dark eyes were rampant with speculation. “What is it you’re not telling me, Faith McBride? Why don’t you answer my question?”

That was the trouble with confidantes. They expected to be told every little secret. Well, this was one secret Faith was keeping to herself.

She shrugged. “Haven’t you read
Jane Eyre
?”

Lily’s nose wrinkled. “
Jane Eyre
? God and all his angels preserve us! If that is what love is like, I want none of it.” A moment went by. “Is that what you had with James? Did you lose your head over him?”

“No!” came the snappish retort. “I was momentarily blinded. When I spoke of Robert, I meant that his presence or absence makes no difference to me.”

Lily mumbled something Faith did not hear.

“What was that?”

“I said,” Lily enunciated slowly and clearly, “I’m beginning to feel sorry for Robert. If you don’t want him, some other young woman will snap him up. He’s a fine-looking man and will come into money one day.”

“I thought you said he was a bore.”

Lily began to tidy up. “That’s because he doesn’t talk about what most interests me.”

“And that is?”

Lily cocked a brow. “Me, of course.”

For some odd reason, they both thought this was a huge joke, and they burst into gales of laughter.

As they washed their mugs in a basin of hot water that Faith had poured from the kettle, Lily said, “You haven’t mentioned if there were any letters waiting for you at Pritchard’s.”

“I don’t know. I forgot to ask.”

Lily’s eloquent eyebrows rose. “You forgot to ask?”

Faith’s brows, on the other hand, took a downward turn. “I was distracted. I couldn’t wait to get out of there, all right?”

A moment of silence went by. Shrugging, Lily said, “If there are any, they’ll still be there tomorrow, and I don’t suppose Burnett will hang around, not when he knows he might run into you again.”

Not sure how she should respond, Faith merely nodded, but she was remembering James’s words, that though she might not have anything to say to him, he had plenty to say to her.

Lily slanted her friend a sideways glance. “Or,” she said slowly, “we could go to Pritchard’s right now, before the staff meeting, you know, to take the air?”

“I’d forgotten about the staff meeting.”

“We can’t miss it. We’re to finalize plans for Speech Day.”

Faith nodded without much enthusiasm. Speech Day was when all the girls and their teachers were on display so that prospective students and their parents could wander the school at will, enter any classroom, and judge for themselves whether St. Winnifred’s was for them. Most parents were amiable and asked their questions politely, but there were always a few who found fault with everything. The following Friday was Prize Day, when the school turned out in force to applaud the brightest and best for work well done. Then the summer break would be upon them. Faith could hardly wait.

“Well?” Lily prompted.

“I think the shop will be closed by now.”

“Mr. Pritchard lives above the shop, doesn’t he? I’m sure he’d be willing to open it for you. For some reason I cannot fathom, you’re the apple of his eye.”

Faith grinned. “That’s because I talk about what most interests him.”

“Himself?”

“No. His grandchildren.”

Laughing together, they finished tidying up and got ready for their walk.

 

 

The headmistress’s name was Miss Elliot, and she ran her
school with the discipline of a benevolent tyrant. No teacher dared daydream when Miss Elliot held the floor. She might be pounced on and asked for her opinion, and woe to that teacher if she fumbled her words.

So Faith fixed her gaze on the headmistress, but her mind kept straying to the letter that had been waiting for her at Mr. Pritchard’s. She’d recognized the feminine script on the envelope, and her heart had done a flip-flop inside her chest. She’d had several replies to her advertisement, but most of those were demands for money from unscrupulous swindlers who could not put two grammatical sentences together. Only one letter had seemed sincere, the letter that was signed simply “C.” The writer was cautious and would not meet with Faith until Faith had explained her connection to Madeline and her reason for trying to find her. Faith replied, then waited with growing impatience for a response. The letter she had received today made the waiting worthwhile. Lady Cowdray, she’d read, would be happy to see her when it was convenient for Miss McBride.

There was a small problem. Her ladyship did not live in London, but a mile from the village of Chalbourne. To get to the village necessitated a two-hour journey by train, and Faith did not know how she could find the time. Saturday was usually free, but this Saturday was Speech Day, and every teacher had to be at her post. That meant she’d have to contain her impatience till the Saturday after that, and patience had never been her strong suit.

“Be patient,” he’d said. “Wait for me. We’ll wed as soon as I return.”

So she’d waited patiently for three months, until she’d traveled up to Scotland and discovered the truth for herself.

She crushed the thought, furious with herself for allowing James Burnett to creep into her mind yet again. Did every stray thought have to lead back to him? Banishing him to oblivion, she concentrated on Miss Elliot’s closing remarks.

The headmistress invariably sent her teachers on their way by firing up their enthusiasm for the grand work they had undertaken. Today was no different. Theirs was a vocation, not a job, she told them, and long after they were gone, their influence would live on in the hearts and minds of the girls. Their efforts would make the world a better place.

The staff meeting ended on that high note, and the teachers, eyes glowing with the fervor of their mission, began to file out in ones and twos. Faith could never quite match their zeal. Though she enjoyed teaching, she did not think of it as her vocation. Her father’s influence was at work in her, and her ambition was to dig among the ruins of Greece and Italy.

It wasn’t an ambition. It was a fantasy. Single women who had to earn their living did not go gallivanting all over Europe. It would be different if she were rich. The new breed of women flouted convention and chose to go off exploring just like men. Someone with her limited means would be much better off digging in Bath, where excavations were already under way beneath the Pump Room. If only her father had lived to see it!

A stray thought flashed into her mind, startling her. If she married Robert, he would be happy to take her to Bath to dig among the ruins. He might even be persuaded to take her to Italy.

Mercenary!
she chided herself. She couldn’t use Robert that way. Then she would be no better than James.

She looked around for Lily, but she was deep in conversation with Miss Elliot, so she went up to her room alone.

The letter from Lady Cowdray was in a hidden compartment in her sewing box, as were all the other responses to her advertisement. She wasn’t suspicious so much as careful. Girls barged in and out of teachers’ rooms at all times of the day. Anything left lying around was fair game for their curiosity.

She retrieved the letter, sat at her desk, smoothed it out, and read, for the twentieth time, the few sentences on the single sheet of notepaper, sentences that dealt mainly with directions on how to get to her ladyship’s house from the station.

Patience,
she reminded herself. Meantime, she had to prepare a lesson for Speech Day, nothing too difficult but something that would make prospective students and their parents sit up and take notice.