Chapter Seven
The following afternoon, as part of the music lesson, Caroline sang out a note, and Rosa had to find the corresponding key on the piano. Rosa became adept at this very quickly. She seemed to like the way the human voice blended with the piano and urged Caroline to sing along to the scales she was practicing, which became amusing when Rosa’s finger slipped, and Caroline mimicked the corresponding discord.
Caroline was just calling things back to order when something made her glance at the doorway to the drawing room. Javan Benedict stood there, leaning against the door, his face inscrutable as he watched them. Her heart gave the funny little leap it always seemed to when she saw him.
Rosa immediately showed off her scales with more care and received her father’s as well as Caroline’s approval.
“Go and find Tiny,” he told his daughter. “I want a word with Miss Grey.”
Rosa, like any child, looked delighted that lessons were finishing early and skipped off with great glee.
“It gets dark so early now,” Mr. Benedict remarked in an excusing kind of way. To her surprise, he moved to the piano. “I’ve been thinking about what you said.” He depressed the last key and wrinkled his nose before sinking down onto Rosa’s vacated stool. If Caroline had moved, she’d have touched him. As it was, his warmth radiated through her.
“I shall accompany Rosa,” he said abruptly.
Caroline smiled. “Tomorrow?”
“Yes, tomorrow. But I don’t care to spend my day in a lady’s shoe shop. Besides, it would cause talk, and it is your day off. We shall all go in the carriage to Blackhaven, and you may go off and do as you wish, and then return with us. Or the carriage can come back for you.”
Caroline murmured her thanks and waited.
He continued to stare at his large hand, his fingers moving silently back and forth across the same keys. “You are right,” he said. “She is too little with other people, especially children, but it must be done gradually so as not to overwhelm her.”
“That seems a very sensible course,” she allowed.
His lips curved as he cast her a caustic glance. “Careful, Miss Grey. Agreeing with me might become a habit.”
She raised her brows. “I thought, sir, that you were agreeing with me.”
The smile in his eyes deepened, which did strange things to her breathing. “You are an insolent baggage, and I shall probably dismiss you tomorrow.”
Surprised laughter spilled from her lips, but footsteps sounded in the drawing room beyond the open door, and he rose as quickly as he’d sat down.
“Sir?” came the voice of Williams the manservant.
Mr. Benedict strode into the drawing room. “I’m here, what is it?”
“Miss Rosa opened the door and the dog’s off on his own,” Williams said apologetically.
“Well, he won’t go far without us. Come along, Miss Grey, time for some more managing.”
Obediently, she hurried after him. At the drawing room door, he paused and glanced back at her over his shoulder. “It was a joke, before you go running back to Braithwaite Castle.”
“Ah,” she retorted. “I thought you were merely keeping me up to scratch.”
“Both.” He walked out of the room. “Though I trust you don’t use such cant to my daughter.”
“Oh no, sir. My position is too valuable to me.”
He glanced at her as she caught up with him. “Then why do I get the feeling you are mocking me?”
“I expect you have a guilty conscience about mocking the governess.”
The laughter was back in his eyes. Butterflies fluttered in her stomach.
“I expect I have,” he agreed. “You really aren’t afraid of me, are you, Miss Grey?”
“Should I be?” she countered, as they came to the stairs.
A quick, almost savage laugh broke from him. “Oh yes.”
Her foot faltered for the barest instant, and he ran downstairs ahead of her. When he moved like that, there was no sign of lameness.
*
Saturday dawned bright and fair with a hint of frost still on the ground as the Benedicts’ carriage bowled out of the overgrown drive and along the road to Blackhaven. Since Miss Benedict also accompanied them, the carriage was cramped, with the excited Rosa and her aunt facing the direction of travel, and Caroline and Mr. Benedict seated opposite.
Caroline could not but be aware of his presence beside her, his arm brushing against her shoulder with the lurching of the carriage. It gave her a secret, wicked pleasure.
“So what diversions do you recommend, Miss Grey?” Mr. Benedict inquired.
“The ice parlor at the top of High Street,” Caroline replied promptly and won a huge grin from Rosa. “There are shops selling just about everything, and an art gallery with a mixed selection of paintings. And you might like to visit the circulating library, where they have a surprisingly good collection. Also, the harbor is very pretty, and the beaches pleasant if the tide is far enough out. The church is several centuries old and very picturesque. The vicar, Mr. Grant, welcomes visitors, whether he is there at the time or not.”
Miss Benedict beamed. “Why, you are as good as a guide book, Miss Grey. How long were you at the castle with the Braithwaites?”
“A few weeks only,” Caroline admitted. “But they are lively girls.”
“Well, we’ve told Williams to come back for us at one o’clock,” Miss Benedict said. “He’ll wait for us in front of the church. If you aren’t there, then, we’ll send him back for you at, when? Four o’clock?”
“That would be most kind,” Caroline said. “Thank you.”
Williams halted the horses opposite the church, and Mr. Benedict immediately pushed open the door and climbed out to let down the steps. He swung Rosa out in a large spin that made her smile and clutch on to him, and then, more civilly, handed out his sister and Caroline.
“Off you go, then,” he said to her. “Enjoy your liberty.”
Rosa, who showed a tendency to cling to her father as people passed in the street, reached out and seized Caroline’s hand.
Caroline clasped her fingers with what she hoped was a reassuring smile. “I shall see you again this afternoon—at the latest. For the town is so small we may well bump into each other again at any time.”
Rosa released her reluctantly and with a jaunty wave, Caroline walked away toward High Street. Today would surely be good for Rosa, moving among people, seeing other children. And she would see also that adults who left her came back again.
When she reached the shoemaker’s shop, she was surprised to find Lady Tamar already there.
“Tamar is painting sunrises,” she explained. “So, I was abroad early. And look, I have found you the sweetest little boots ever!”
They were indeed beautiful, made of soft kid and almost as dainty as dancing slippers.
“They are delightful,” Caroline allowed. “But they would not last one muddy day at Haven Hall. I need something much stouter!”
“But not hideous,” Serena insisted, pulling her past a display of plain, solid boots. “Let us speak to Mr. Nulty.”
In the end, Caroline settled for something both pretty and comfortable, and Mr. Nulty the shoemaker promised to send them up to Haven Hall on Monday.
“Excellent,” Serena approved. “Have you breakfasted, Miss Grey? For I’m famished! Let’s go to the hotel.”
Caroline accompanied her willingly enough. “Will people not think you very odd for being so much in the governess’s company?”
“Well, they already think me odd for my marriage, and I can’t say I care about that either. Besides, apparently you’re not our governess anymore.”
“I’m sorry,” Caroline said with genuine contrition. “If I could continue teaching your sisters, I would.”
“Is that what you intended to speak to Mr. Benedict about?”
“Yes, and perhaps by the time the countess relents, the time will be right.”
“But the girls miss you now.”
“As I miss them.” Caroline hesitated. “I love your sisters, my lady, but Rosa needs me more. I hope to coax her back into the way of company, and maybe even a return to speech. I would love to find a way to teach them all together. I believe that would be best of all for Rosa. But I do understand that you want a governess now. I shall quite understand if you engage another.”
Serena smiled wryly and sailed through the door of the hotel. “That is my lady mother’s concern, not mine. But I don’t like to leave them with only Mrs. Gaskell.”
“Could you take them with you to Tamar Abbey?” Caroline asked once they were seated at a table in the quiet dining room and had ordered coffee and breakfast.
Serena wrinkled her nose. “Tamar says not. I don’t think he wants to take me until he’s beaten his brothers and sister into submission. I suspect it’s all pretty ramshackle, and as you know, his brothers are not at all the thing.”
“Well, neither was Lord Tamar until he married you.”
“No, but he was always sweet-natured. I’m not sure that applies to his siblings. Anyway, neither of us is prepared to risk mine until I’ve met his for myself. And we may be trapped down there for the winter, so as I say, it’s a fine excuse for a party.” She delved into her reticule and produced a little packet which she set in front of Caroline. “Cards of invitation for the Benedicts and you.”
“For me?” Startled, Caroline paused with her hand on the packet. “You don’t invite the governess to parties!”
“I invite you. Besides, there will be children present, so I have an ulterior motive. I hope they will bring Rosa.”
“I think that might be moving too quickly,” Caroline said ruefully. “She will need to get used to one or two children before she can manage lots in a houseful of strange adults.”
“Will her father not agree to that?”
“He might, now…to be honest, they have all got out of the way of company.” And quite deliberately, from what Caroline could gather.
“Well, you must write to me. I could bring Helen over by herself one day and then you could bring Rosa to the castle. If he agrees.” She waited until the waiter had set the coffee pot and cups on the table and departed, before she asked bluntly, “What is he like? Cold and terrifying?”
“Not at all,” Caroline objected. “Nor does he eat children or keep his wife locked in a tower.”
“I hope not if the poor creature is dead.”
“It is Betty Smith’s theory that she isn’t, and that Miss Benedict is really Mrs. Benedict!”
“Betty Smith always made up stories. They entertained Frances and me when we were young, but I’m not sure that one is so funny. Are you happy there, Caroline? Or is it just your need to help that keeps you with them?”
It was the first time Serena had used her Christian name. The significance wasn’t lost on Caroline, although Lady Tamar herself didn’t appear to notice.
Caroline shrugged. “Both, I suppose.”
Serena gazed thoughtfully into her steaming coffee and added a little cream. “Does he grieve still for his wife?” she asked.
It was a good question. “Certainly, he grieves for something. I suppose it must be her, though he doesn’t speak of her. No one does.” Which was odd. Miss Benedict never referred to her. Nor did any of the servants who must have known her.
Serena’s eyes brightened. “It is a house of mystery,” she said, all but rubbing her hands with glee. “Most definitely I must bring Helen next week. Though the others will hate me for leaving them behind.”
They talked of other things while they ate breakfast. Serena, bright and animated as she generally was, seemed to have an extra brilliance about her, an inner glow that Caroline eventually put down to happiness. She hoped Lord Tamar would never let her down, for Serena clearly loved him to distraction. And although Tamar always appeared to be equally enchanted by his wife, Caroline did not have a high opinion of men’s constancy.
“Well, well,” a man’s jovial voice interrupted their chatter. “What a bevy of beauty to greet my old eyes this morning!”
Caroline looked up to see the white-whiskered Colonel Fredericks, the retired commander of the 44th regiment barracked in Blackhaven. Serena had known him since childhood and immediately invited him to join them.
“Very happy to,” he replied gratefully, easing himself into the seat opposite them. Colonel Fredericks gave a good impression of being merely a kind old gentleman well past his prime, though in fact, if one looked closely, his eyes were sharp and perceptive and, according to Serena, he still had charge of some intelligence matters relating to the never-ending war with France. He was also entertaining company, and Caroline was quite happy to spend half an hour drinking more coffee with him.
“So, you have both managed to lose your charges for today?” he said at last.
“Do you mean my husband?” Serena teased.
“I do, of course! And to a lesser extent, your delightful sisters.”
“I left the former painting and the latter sleeping,” Serena informed him. “But Miss Grey no longer looks after them. She has another position.”
He seemed genuinely surprised. “Do you really? Well, well. Still in Blackhaven, I trust?”
“Haven Hall,” Caroline replied.
The colonel raised his eyebrows. “Indeed? Who is it who has the hall now? Tenants never seem to stay there.”
“Mr. Benedict and his family,” Caroline murmured.
He cocked his ear. “I beg your pardon? I’m a little deaf.”
“Mr. Javan Benedict and his family,” Caroline repeated more clearly.
His eyes widened and focused more firmly on hers. “Javan Benedict?” he exclaimed. “Colonel Javan Benedict?”
“Oh no,” she said at once. “I don’t think—” She broke off, frowning. “They never call him that,” she finished lamely. And yet it would explain so much: his travels, his injuries…
“Well, it is an uncommon name,” Fredericks pointed out. “I would be surprised if it weren’t him. How is he?”
“Convalescing, I believe,” Caroline managed. “Are you acquainted with him, Colonel?”
“Only by repute.”
“Who is he?” Serena asked with much more blatant curiosity than Caroline felt comfortable betraying. “What happened to him?”
“Oh, he commanded a crack unit under Wellington for a long time. Special duties, often behind enemy lines by all accounts. Was very good at it, too, or so I heard. But his luck ran out eventually, and he was captured. Months later, he escaped, but he was still direly wounded and he sold his commission almost immediately. Wellington himself regarded it as a severe loss, I’m told, but couldn’t convince him to stay.”
“Goodness,” Serena said in awe. “A hero in our midst and we’re listening to stupid and frankly ugly gossip about him! I shall make it my business to turn that on its head.”
“Don’t,” Caroline blurted.
Serena blinked at her. “I beg your pardon?”
“I don’t think he wishes to be discussed at all,” Caroline said with difficulty, “let alone be recognized. Even the servants he brought with him never refer to him as Colonel Benedict. Neither does his sister. He obviously wants it that way. If it is him.” It was. She knew suddenly that Fredericks was right.
“I suspect Miss Grey is correct,” Colonel Fredericks said apologetically.
“Incognito,” Serena murmured. “Who am I to upset a hero? My lips are sealed on the subject.” She smiled at Caroline. “At least I can stop worrying about you at that place now.”
*
After parting from Serena, Caroline walked round to the circulating library and borrowed a novel and a book on botany, a subject on which she knew little. She then walked through the street market to the harbor, wondering if she should meet the Benedicts at one o’clock, or spend the afternoon searching for an inexpensive new gown to alter or to make up for herself.
The trouble was, she mistrusted her motives for this sudden desire for new garments. Of course, she disliked her dull old gowns—who wouldn’t? But working for the Earl of Braithwaite, her dress had never concerned her. Why now, when she was employed by the most casual of families who barely noticed what they wore themselves? She refused to think of a reason, merely repeated to herself that it didn’t matter. And it didn’t. She just fantasized a little about appearing not to be dull. Just for an hour or two…
As though she’d conjured his reality by refusing to allow thoughts of him into her head, Javan Benedict stood by the harbor wall, gazing out to sea. She recognized him easily from behind, even in his unfamiliar tall, beaver hat. There was something in his straight posture, in his stillness. It couldn’t have been anyone else.
Her step faltered. There was no trace of his family nearby.
She hesitated. She had long made the decision in her mind that if she came upon any of the Benedicts in town, alone or singly, she would merely wave—if she couldn’t immediately duck out of sight. He didn’t see her. He had no idea she stood behind him. She had only to spin around and walk smartly back to the market, or swerve left and walk down the row of fishermen’s cottages where Lord Tamar had his studio.
But why should she change her plans? Just because one man stood more or less where she had intended to. There was room for both.
I’m fooling myself, she acknowledged as she walked on toward the harbor wall. I was always going to do this. Not that she expected a particularly warm response.
She stood beside him, looking out to sea, over the fishing boats tied up, to the larger vessel drifting past in the distance. The sea was a brilliant, frothy blue, reflecting the sunny sky. The whole view could have been one of Lord Tamar’s more beautiful paintings, only the salty spray was damp on her skin and the scent of the sea strong in her nostrils.
Although she’d meant to greet him politely, she said nothing, merely stood beside him until she was aware of his head slowly turning and taking her in. At least he didn’t swear, although he did turn back to the sea again.
“Is it normal for you just to stand there, oozing comfort?” he said at last.
She flushed. “I hope it’s not normal for me to ooze anything at all. But if it helps, I’m content.”
He didn’t respond, merely gazed out to sea for a while longer, before he asked, “Was your business in Blackhaven successful?”
“I have ordered new boots and I breakfasted at the hotel with Lady Serena—Lady Tamar,” she corrected. For some reason, it seemed too much information to mention Colonel Fredericks. “Have you sent Rosa shopping with Miss Benedict?”
“I sent them on to the ice parlor without me. Once was enough for me, even for the pleasure of watching Rosa’s face as she eats.”
“Two ices in one day! You are an indulgent parent.”
“Well, I was never very moderate myself. I sympathize.”
She could imagine it. Carefully, she avoided looking at him. Somehow, she knew it would make it easier for him to answer. “Are you quite well, sir?”
“Not quite,” he replied. “But I’m getting there.”
“Is that why you feel the need of comfort?”
“No, it’s my self-pity that requires it. But I’ve done now.”
“Then for your health, might I recommend the Blackhaven waters?”
He glanced at her with amusement. “A little harmless trickery?”
“Oh, there’s no trick. It’s only mineral water from the hills, which trickles underground and comes out at the Pump Room. But many people have noticed improvements in their health.”
“Any reputable physicians?” he asked wryly.
“I don’t know. But when Lady Serena was very down a month or so back, she took the waters and is now quite restored.” She didn’t mention that she was also restored to Lord Tamar, which was probably at least as much to do with the improvement. “But if you feel a physician would benefit you more, I believe Dr. Lampton is very well thought of.”
“By the rich troubled with nervous disorders?”
“By everyone, I think. I believe the 44th use him, too, now that their surgeon is abroad. It would do no harm if you asked Dr. Lampton to call. And in the meantime, it would certainly do you no harm to drink the waters.”
He regarded her with some amusement. “Very well,” he said unexpectedly. “Take me to your wretched waters.”
As they walked, a few acquaintances greeted her, one or two by name. All looked askance at her scarred escort. She wondered if the limp made him appear more or less of a threat. But since his temper was erratic at best, she was just grateful no one stopped to make conversation. Until, within sight of the pump room, they encountered Mrs. Winslow and Miss Muir.
Mrs. Winslow’s eyes lit up at once. Fresh grist for her rumor mill, Caroline realized as she paused politely to greet the ladies. And as they both waited agog, there was nothing for it but to introduce her companion.
“Allow me to present Mr. Benedict of Haven Hall, who has recently employed me to teach his daughter. Sir, Mrs. Winslow, the squire’s lady, and Miss Muir.”
“Oh my,” said Miss Muir, who was deaf as a post and often spoke without seeming to realize other people could hear her.
“What a surprise,” Mrs. Winslow commented after exchanging distant bows with Benedict. “And do we not get to meet the new pupil?”
“One day, I’m sure,” Caroline said hastily. “She is currently in the ice parlor with her aunt.”
“Ladies,” Mr. Benedict said coldly, raising his hat and walking on.
With an apologetic smile, Caroline hurried after him. “There is the pump room,” she said as they reached the entrance with its fake Grecian pillars. “I believe you can swim. Or simply drink the water.”
“Thank you,” he said gravely. She nodded and turned away. Mrs. Winslow and Miss Muir were still gazing in her direction. “What will you tell them about me?”
“That you are grumpy and afraid of doctors,” she said and walked away.
His surprised laughter followed her and made her smile as she raised a hand to the ladies and cut up the side road toward High Street.