Chapter Sixteen
HE SHOULD HAVE held his tongue and kept his feelings to himself as he’d promised Grace he would.
Rupert’s spirits plummeted as he watched the woman he cared for cower from him. He had tried so hard these past weeks to resist his growing feelings for her. When that became impossible he had hidden them instead, which proved equally difficult.
This evening had been worse than ever, for it reminded him of the one they had shared at Lady Maidenhead’s masquerade. In so many ways his harvest feast was better. At the masquerade ranks and titles had been concealed but taken for granted. Tonight they were acknowledged but set aside as everyone celebrated the harvest that crowned a year of common endeavor. On such an evening, the master of Nethercross might dance with a farmer’s wife or his daughters’ governess and no one would think it amiss.
No doubt he should have resisted the temptation to dance with Grace Ellerby. But seeing Mrs. Cadmore and her new beau so happy together had eroded his resolve. Their dance had brought so many buried emotions closer to the surface. Then when they’d brought his daughters back to the nursery and put them to bed, Rupert could not escape the overwhelming sense that they were a family... or should be.
Grace’s tender show of concern for his happiness had strained his composure to the breaking point. It had made him do and say the very things he’d sworn he would not. But now that he had, the only possible way to undo the damage was to press forward and hope for the best.
He snatched a deep breath and summoned his voice, trying to keep it low and calm. If Grace felt threatened, he knew he might lose her and so might his daughters. “Forgive me for startling you. I know I promised not to subject you to attentions of this sort and I swear I will not speak of my feelings again if they distress you. But I cannot permit you to assume I care for Mrs. Cadmore when I do not and never could. I repent ever thinking I could wed a woman I do not love. You were right about that and I only wish I had heeded your excellent advice sooner.”
“It was not good advice,” she replied with a stricken look. “It was selfish advice masked as concern for your daughters. I never should have meddled in your life as I did.”
Why? Because if she hadn’t he might be safely married to another woman and not pestering her with his unwelcome attentions? Rupert shuddered to think of the terrible longing and guilt he might have suffered if he’d finally awoken to his feelings for Grace after he had wed Barbara Cadmore.
“Please hear me out, I beg you.” Fighting his deepest inclinations, Rupert took a step backward so she would not feel cornered. “I have tried to root out my feelings so as not to distress you with them, but they have proved even more stubborn than my will. Is there any hope I can persuade you to trust and care for me in return?”
Her gentle blue eyes widened. In them, Rupert glimpsed far too many emotions he did not want to see... fear, sadness, regret.
“I do trust you,” she admitted in a furtive whisper as if it were something shameful. “More than I have any other man. And I have come to care for you far more than I ought to.”
“Why more than you ought to?” Rupert asked, not certain whether he should be encouraged.
“Because you are my employer, of course.” Her voice took on a sharp edge as if she were vexed with him... or herself. “Besides, you only think you fancy me on account of my looks. I have encountered that enough over the years to know it is not love.”
There was a tiny grain of truth in what she said. How could he convince this vision of loveliness he cared for her when he had given no sign of caring for plain Miss Ellerby?
“Our positions should not affect how we feel about one another,” he argued. “If I ever thought otherwise, I was a fool. As for the other, even before I became aware of your outer beauty, I had grown to admire the beauty of your heart and character. I became closer to you than to any other woman since my wife, though I could not acknowledge it. Not even to myself.”
Would she believe any of that? Or would she assume he was only the latest in a disreputable line of men who would say or do anything in order to possess her?
“When I met you at the masquerade,” he continued, “I cannot deny the immediate attraction I felt. But I truly believe that owed less to your beauty than to the ease I felt in your company. I am certain my heart recognized you that night even though my stubborn mind refused to.”
“It did?” Her voice trembled. “But you told me you could never care for another woman as you did your wife. Even if you could, you swore you did not want to risk your heart again.”
“I said a great many foolish things,” Rupert admitted with a rueful shrug. “I will gladly recant them all if only you will give me hope. Before I met you, I thought grief was the penalty I must pay for having loved. The cost was so dear I feared it would bankrupt my heart.”
His voice grew husky with emotion. “But you have made me see that love is not like gold, to be hoarded and doled out a miserly piece at a time. Love is a bottomless well that will never go dry as long as we keep drawing from it. The more we give away, the faster it refills, so we will never run out.”
She looked as though she desperately wanted to believe him, yet something held her back.
“As for my being your employer,” he continued, “I would never abuse that power to impose upon you. I want to make you an offer of marriage. If you truly care for me as I do for you, please agree to be my wife.”
“Wife?” One trembling hand rose to her throat as if she could not catch her breath. “I... I...”
Her frightened gaze swept around to his sleeping daughters. Was she afraid that only by accepting his proposal would she be able to remain with the children she loved?
Marriage to Rupert Kendrick? Even the possibility of it made Grace fairly swoon for joy. To think that all this time his restless dejection had grown out of his repressed feelings for her. It seemed too good to be true. And perhaps it was—too good for her compared with what she deserved.
She glanced around at her sleeping pupils. If she had feared the opportunity to stay on at Nethercross was a blessing she did not deserve, the prospect of wedding their father was a hundredfold more so.
And yet, deserved or not, she ached to accept his proposal. She felt pulled so hard in opposite directions she could not frame a coherent reply. “But... the girls.”
Rupert clearly did not understand what she was trying to say—and who could blame him? “I am certain you would make a wonderful mother to my daughters. But if you feel you must refuse me, I want the next best thing for them—to keep you as their governess. I swear to you, I would never speak of my feelings again. We could continue on as we have been. But please do not refuse me for the wrong reasons. Reject my offer only if you are perfectly certain you do not and cannot love me as I have come to love you.”
Grace’s legs threatened to give way beneath her. She stumbled to the nursery settee and sank down on it. Sophie’s storybook lay within arm’s reach, full of impossible tales of talking cats, fairy godmothers and scullery maids who captured the hearts of princes. Those stories also told of something Grace had encouraged the children to believe in—cruel, uncaring stepmothers.
“There is more to marriage than love,” she sighed. “You said so yourself, and you were right about that at least.”
Her collapse upon the settee brought Rupert flying to her side. Grace was reminded of their very first interview at the inn in Reading and the unwarranted kindness he’d shown to a fearful, dowdy governess. Looking back she wondered if she had begun to fall in love with him that very day.
“Have we exchanged outlooks, you and I?” His gaze searched her face in a fond caress as he eased himself down beside her. “Tell me then, if there is more to marriage than love, what else can possibly compare in importance?”
“The happiness of your children, of course.” Grace lowered her gaze, afraid she would falter and give in to her selfish desires if she stared into his compelling dark eyes for too long. “You know how bitterly opposed they are to your remarrying. And I have done more than anyone to foster that uncharitable attitude. This is my just punishment. Much as I want to, I cannot marry you and risk having the children I love so much grow to resent me.”
Perhaps she should not have confessed her desire to accept Rupert’s proposal for it seemed to encourage him in a way she could ill afford.
Gently he took both her hands in his, as they had clasped during the dance that evening. “Dearest Grace, you know my daughters care for you quite as much as you do for them. Whether you are their governess or their mama, I cannot believe that will change.”
Perhaps he could not, but she could all too easily. She shook her head and tried to pull her hands from his grasp. “You did not hear what they said when I told them what happened at the masquerade. Sophie was aghast at the thought that I might become their stepmother. They will never accept me—I am certain of it. And there will be gossip in the neighborhood about such an unsuitable match, which will only make things worse.”
Her fears were running away with her, whipped up by the potent consciousness of all the wrong she had done since coming to Nethercross. She could not bear to do more simply to get what she wanted.
“Hush now, hush,” Rupert clung to her hands with tender but steadfast resolve. “I will talk to the girls and persuade them they have nothing to fear. All will be well, I promise you.”
How could she resist her feelings for such a man, whose presence promised her security, protection, understanding—everything she craved? But how could she give in to them when the result might be the kind of strife that had blighted her childhood? She cared too much for Rupert and his daughters to let that happen.
“Don’t you see? They may pretend to be resigned to a marriage between us for fear of losing your regard. If they cannot truly accept me, it could poison your feelings for them and theirs for you. That is too great a risk. I cannot take it. Please do not ask me to!”
Hard as she tried to maintain her composure, hot tears rose in her eyes.
“So much fear.” Rupert’s whisper enfolded her with its fond sympathy. “After all you have suffered over the years I reckon it is no wonder you always expect the worst. I have no right to talk, for I was every bit as fearful of giving my heart away again at the risk of losing it forever. But even if I were to lose you, I could never be sorry to have loved you. You brought me to life again and gave me back my heart. Having you here at Nethercross has been a blessing for which I shall always be grateful.”
He disengaged one of his hands from hers and wiped away a tear that slid down her cheek. Much as his words touched her and his gesture brought comfort, Rupert’s reference to a blessing reminded her why they could not be together. “You and your daughters have been a blessing to me as well but one I do not deserve. I kept secrets from you and spoiled your plans. Even worse, I made the girls a party to my actions. I encouraged them in believing that all stepmothers must be horrid. Now I must reap what I have sown. It is a judgment upon me.”
“Is that why you will not accept my proposal?” he asked. “Because you feel you do not deserve to be happy?”
Blinking back the rest of her tears she gave a slow nod.
“We all make mistakes,” Rupert replied. “I hired you for the wrong reasons. I refused to acknowledge my feelings for you and planned to marry a woman I did not love in spite of my daughters’ objections. Does that mean I should never know happiness?”
“Of course not! It isn’t the same thing at all.”
“Are you certain?” Rupert nodded toward his peacefully sleeping children. “You cannot deny the girls have their faults, yet you care for them just the same and would do everything in your power to make them happy.”
“You know I would.” That’s what she was trying to do now, if only he would not let her.
“Even Charlotte who made things so difficult when you first came here?” he persisted.
“She didn’t mean to,” Grace protested. “She didn’t understand in the beginning and once she did she was so remorseful.”
“And you forgave her, just like that?” Rupert sounded skeptical. “Even though she might not have deserved it?”
“I...” At last Grace understood what he was trying to say. “That is...”
“Then why do you find it so hard to believe God would forgive you as you forgave Charlotte?” Rupert took her left hand and lifted it to his lips. “Please trust your heart to my love and to the Lord’s grace.”
Could it truly be as simple as that? Simple, perhaps, but not easy.
From dark depths of Grace’s memory the voices of her stepmother and her teachers emerged to recite a long litany of her faults that justified their hostility and harsh treatment. The men who had pursued her joined in, claiming she had invited their dishonorable attentions.
But then the voices of Rebecca and her other friends rose in protest, saying she was worthy of their support and affection. Charlotte, Phoebe and Sophie joined in her defense. So did their father.
Grace lifted her eyes to meet his. “Perhaps...”
That seemed to be all the encouragement he needed. Every shadow of the frustration and sorrow she’d glimpsed in his eyes of late vanished. More than any words, his loving gaze assured her that the feelings he professed were entirely sincere and that her love could help him find the happiness she so wanted for him.
“We will talk to the girls in the morning.” Rupert lifted her hand to his lips. “If after that you still believe our marriage would destroy the affection they now have for you, I suppose we could carry on as we have been and wait to wed until they are grown and married. It would not be easy for me but for their sake and yours, I could wait.”
His offer soothed the worst of her fears. Gingerly, Grace raised a hand to stroke his cheek. Rupert leaned into that delicate caress with a murmur of supreme contentment.
Now that she was certain of his feelings and hers, it would not be easy to wait so long. She must trust in the girls’ understanding, in Rupert’s love and most of all in the power of grace.
Rupert rose early the next morning, propelled by a volatile mixture of eagerness and anxiety. He could not blame Grace for her difficulty in accepting good fortune when he could scarcely believe his.
For the sake of his daughters he had resigned himself to pining in secret for their beautiful governess. But when she had seen through his disguised feelings and offered to help unite him with the woman she thought he loved, he could not tell whether it meant she cared nothing for him... or everything. He only knew he must be as truthful with her as he’d urged her to be with him. His reward had been to discover how much she cared for him and his daughters.
Thinking of the girls provoked his unease. Last night, seeking to persuade Grace, he had been certain his beloved daughters would be no stumbling block to his happiness. In the cool light of an autumn morning he was not so sure.
Another worry also nagged at him. Would he find Grace in the nursery this morning, or might she have fled during the night as she had from difficult situations in the past?
Unable to bear the uncertainty he hastened to the nursery where he paced back and forth in the corridor until he heard the sound of voices, assuring him the girls were awake.
“Is something wrong, Papa?” cried Phoebe when he strode in with his mounting worry etched upon his features.
The moment he caught sight of Grace, pale and anxious-looking but very much present, his lips relaxed in a broad smile of relief. “No, indeed, my dear. Everything is as right as can be. I hope you all slept well.”
They nodded.
“We just woke up,” announced Sophie, though it was evident from the fact that they still wore their nightgowns.
“What are you doing here so early, Papa,” Charlotte asked in a wary tone, “if nothing is wrong?”
He beckoned them over to the settee, which held sweet memories of last night’s conversation with Grace. “There is something I want to talk to you about.”
“Can’t it wait until after breakfast?” asked Phoebe.
Gathering Sophie onto his lap while the older two snuggled on either side, Rupert shook his head. “This is very important and the sooner it is settled the better for us all.”
“Come sit with us, Miss Ella,” Sophie called out to Grace.
Rupert added a smile of encouragement to his daughter’s invitation but Grace hung back. “I will join you a little later perhaps.”
She busied herself around the room. Did she think the girls would be less apt to give a sincere response with her sitting there? All the more reason to get the matter sorted as soon as possible.
“Now girls,” he began, “you know I loved your dear mama very much, as I know you did.”
They all replied with grave nods, including Sophie, whom he doubted had any clear memory of Annabelle.
“After she died, we were all sad for a long while and I was afraid to love anyone but you three in case I might lose them as I lost her. That was why I wanted to marry Mrs. Cadmore because I knew I would never care for her that deeply. But you and Miss Ellerby helped me see that was wrong and rather cowardly.”
“You’re not a coward, Papa!” Phoebe’s voice rang with indignation.
He gave a rueful grin. “When it comes to risking my heart I fear I have been. Now I am trying to be more courageous but I need your help.”
“You haven’t changed your mind about Mrs. Cadmore, have you?” demanded Charlotte. Before Rupert could respond Sophie piped up. “I hope not because we don’t want a wicked stepmother!”
He cast a glance at Grace who had turned away, her shoulders slumped.
“I have not changed my mind about Mrs. Cadmore but I have altered my opinion of marriage. I hope you will keep your minds and hearts open to change as well. Not all stepmothers are alike any more than the three of you are. Some may not be as kind as they should but others are good and loving. I hope you will not let the loss of your mama make you close your hearts to new love as I tried to. It has been a hard lesson for me to learn but I believe you are wiser than me.”
His daughters seemed to wrestle with what he was trying to tell them. He only wished he’d had this talk with them a long time ago.
“I don’t understand, Papa,” said Phoebe at last. “If you aren’t going to marry Mrs. Cadmore, what does any of that matter?”
“Because,” said Charlotte, “I think he wants to marry... Miss Ella.”
“Is that true, Papa?” Sophie cast her father an accusing glare. “Do you want to turn Miss Ella into a wicked stepmother?”
Rupert shook his head. “I want to make her a stepmother who will love you quite as much as your own mama. But she is afraid to marry me if it might make you unhappy and not care for her any more. What do you think of that?”
“Is that true, Miss Ella?” asked Phoebe.
Grace turned toward them again and nodded.
Rupert held his breath as he waited for his daughter’s reply.
Charlotte rose from her place beside him.
“That’s just ridiculous,” she announced in a tart tone, walking toward Grace. “Miss Ella could never be wicked and no one could make her that way, especially not Papa.”
She took Grace’s hand and drew her toward the settee.
“Of course not.” Phoebe agreed. “Will you please marry Papa, Miss Ella?”
Wiping away a tear, Grace sank onto the settee with the rest of the family. “What do you say, Sophie?”
The child thought for a moment.
“This isn’t a story, you know.” She spoke with innocent wisdom. “We can make the ending come out any way we please.”
With that she slid off Rupert’s lap onto Grace’s.
“I know how I would like our story to come out.” Grace wrapped her arms around the child and rested her head against Rupert’s shoulder in a gesture of reliance and tender trust.
“How?” Phoebe asked as Rupert opened his arms wide enough to embrace all four of them.
Grace’s smile seemed to light up the whole nursery. “...and they all lived happily ever after—in Berkshire.”