Hidden Affections (9 page)

Her cheeks flushed bright pink. “You’re talking about Lotte, aren’t you!”

“You shouldn’t have offered the sweets to her, and she should have known better than to take them,” he said firmly.

“She’s been reprimanded?” she whispered, clearly distressed.

“Mrs. Faye fired her.”

“That isn’t fair! She can’t do that.”

“Yes, she can, and I won’t override her decision where the staff is concerned or any decision Irene makes, either. Not without making either of them appear weak in front of the employees they oversee. Otherwise, they’ll all run to me—or you will on their behalf—every time there’s a silly squabble. And I have no desire to waste my time settling matters that are of no real consequence.”

She blinked hard, visibly struggling for control. “Well said for a man with such incredible wealth that he’s willing to squander it foolishly by giving it to a woman who doesn’t want it. I’m sorry if I broke one of the many rules you seem to live by in this city, but Lotte is just a very young woman. She shouldn’t be punished for my mistake,” she whispered.

When he tried to speak, she held up her hand. “You’ve made it very clear that I have no say in the matter, so I’ll just agree that I’ll try to remember all your rules and follow them. For appearances’ sake, I’ll also honor and obey you. I just won’t like it, and I most assuredly won’t be tempted to like you very much, either.” She walked over to put the book she had selected back onto the shelf and left the room.

Harrison stared at the door she had eased closed for a good long time. Oddly troubled that he had brought her close to tears, he was even more surprised that he actually cared what she thought of him. He raked his fingers through his hair. She was a very troublesome woman, the likes of which he had never had to handle before.

He immediately dismissed the thought when Irene charged into the room and shut the door behind her. With hands on her hips, she glared at him. “Whatever did you say to that sweet wife of yours? She was trembling so badly when I passed her in the hall that I took her right to your room and promised I’d bring her a cup of hot tea to help calm her down.”

He drew in a long, deep breath. Moving out to Graymoor Gardens had also put him back in the same house with another troublesome woman he could not control, even if he tried. For half a second he seriously considered returning to the city mansion, until he remembered that Philip was living there. “I was only trying to explain that—”

“I don’t need to know what you were explaining. Just try harder to do it better, and I know more than anyone else that you’re capable of doing that. Or have you lost every bit of common sense and decency you possess to the ills of that city you called home for the past eight years?” She used the same no-nonsense tone he had heard for years, then turned and marched back out of the room.

Harrison threw his hands up in the air. If he had any sense at all, which Irene seemed to think he did, he would go straight back to his home in the city, where not a single member of the staff would dare challenge him. Even though he would have to tolerate having Philip living there until he left for Boston, he found the idea appealing.

And he had no idea how soon he would have any interest in venturing back to Graymoor Gardens, if indeed he would ever return at all.

Keeping her promise to obey her husband had already stretched the limits of Annabelle’s endurance, in spite of the fact that he had left Graymoor Gardens last night right after supper to return to the city.

She rose just before dawn the next morning and said her morning prayers. Although she was grateful to have this sleeping room to herself until he returned, she had the sense he would not come back to live here at all if he had any choice in the matter.

In point of fact, she much preferred the homey sleeping room here over the very lavish one in the city, although she was not accustomed to having such a large room—even larger than the parlor in her family home. The painted walls suggested just a blush of pink, but the heirloom quilt on the bed was made with fabrics of shades ranging from the deepest rose to a pink so pale it appeared to be white at first glance. The furniture was sturdy enough, but there were enough scars and nicks in the wood to suggest it had been here a very long time.

She pulled back the heavy night curtain that covered the window overlooking the front of the estate, but she had to narrow her gaze to see much of anything in the dim gray light. Once she realized that the snowstorm that had started yesterday had dumped much more than a foot of snow, she dropped the curtain back into place. Undeterred, she dressed as quickly as she could in the dark, slid her cape around her shoulders, and carried her gloves with her as she slipped out of the room.

At this hour, she doubted she would see either Alan or Peggy, but she wanted to avoid Irene most of all as she tiptoed down the hallway. Annabelle knew the woman was concerned about her, in spite of her efforts to convince the woman otherwise.

As she worked her way down the staircase, she held tight to the banister. Torn between keeping her promise to treat Irene as merely a member of the staff and not the friend she suspected Irene could be, she went directly to the front door and left the house.

Outside, the air was frigid. The sun had not struggled past the gray horizon yet, leaving the world bathed in dim, hazy light, but she could hear the sound of the icy river that flowed through the city. Anxious to dispel the cabin fever, she pulled up her hood and donned her gloves.

After taking a deep breath of fresh, cold air, she started down the circular driveway that Alan had shoveled clear after supper last night. She had no intention of trudging through the snow-covered landscape but simply planned to walk back and forth, from one end of the drive to the other, until she drove out every last vestige of her pent-up energy.

She walked as briskly as she dared without losing her footing and was grateful to be living out here in the country, where life was more familiar and she had much more freedom than she would ever have had in the city. When she reached the end of the drive and turned to retrace her steps, she noticed a series of footsteps in the snow that wound from somewhere behind the house and disappeared down the gently sloping ground into the woods.

Her spirit soared. She did not know who had been walking outside last night, but she was excited that their footsteps had packed down the snow so she could follow. Looking closer, she saw that the path actually appeared to start from the side door of the cottage where smoke was rising from the kitchen chimney. Apparently Irene was already up and preparing to cook breakfast, but there were no telltale aromas that would make Annabelle’s stomach growl. Anxious to leave before Irene spotted her, she followed the footsteps that led her through a thick stand of barren trees.

Without any foliage to block her view while she walked, she could easily see the eastern sky and the wildlife that struggled to survive the harsh winter. Close by, an owl hooted a good-bye to the night. A black cloud of crows flapped directly over her head, while two other flocks hugged the branches of adjoining trees. Overall, the landscape was a stark winter portrait, painted in nature’s unforgiving tones of black and white without a hint of color. It reminded her that Harrison’s rules left no room for exceptions.

“Don’t do this. Don’t do that,” she grumbled and kicked at a clump of snow. “What he really meant was don’t
think
. Not beyond the rules I must follow.”

Hopeful that she would not have to wait long to escape the strict boundaries he had imposed, she was still annoyed with herself for not being able to control her temper when he had imposed his rigid expectations of her. If she had remained calm, she might have been able to reason with him, at least to the point that he might have agreed to reconsider what had happened to poor Lotte and perhaps even rehired her.

She dropped her gaze and kicked at the footprints in the snow as she walked, imagining that she was kicking away her promise to blindly obey him—a promise that had left her afraid to say anything to the staff that might encourage conversation. “I’m not some mindless puppet he can manipulate,” she cried, surprised that she had spoken loud enough to hear her words echo through the woods.

“I should hope not.”

Startled, she stopped so abruptly she nearly lost her footing. Annabelle looked around and saw Irene sitting on a bench just a few yards away facing the horizon.

Irene smiled at her. “There’s enough room for two, if you’d care to join us. You’ll need to walk very slowly so you don’t scare my little friend here and make him run off before he finishes his breakfast.”

Curious, Annabelle took a few deliberate steps toward the bench until she was able to see a black squirrel sitting on top of the snow just a few feet in front of Irene. It was nibbling at a nut of some kind. She stopped immediately, more afraid of engaging in conversation with Irene than she was of getting close to the wild animal. “I had no idea anyone was out here. I shouldn’t intrude.”

“You’re not intruding. Not unless you’re still too annoyed with me to bother talking to me. Sit down for a bit so I can introduce you to Jonah,” she suggested and tossed another nut to the ground, which the animal quickly snatched up.

Annabelle’s heart skipped a beat. “I’m not annoyed with you. Not at all. I’ve . . . I’ve just had a lot on my mind.” She kept her gaze on the squirrel as she made her way to the bench and sat down. Up close, she could see that the poor creature looked as if it had gone up against a bully and lost. One of its ears was missing, along with half of its tail, and his body was a maze of bright pink scars. “What happened to Jonah?”

Irene shrugged. “I’m not certain, but I suspect he got himself snatched up by a hawk and somehow managed to escape. He survived, but he must have been pretty scared at the time.”

With visions of what she might be like when she was finally able to escape the life she had been forced into, Annabelle swallowed the lump in her throat. “I know the feeling.”

“Of being caught or escaping?” Irene asked and her gaze gentled. “It’s not uncommon, you know, for a newly married young woman to find married life a bit confusing, especially when she hasn’t got any family close by to help her. I was married for ten years before God called Harry home, and I’m a good listener, in case you ever want to talk about how you’re feeling. It might help.”

Annabelle was sorely tempted to pour out her troubles to the woman, but Harrison’s list of commandments she had to follow flashed before her mind’s eye. “I-I’m sorry. I . . . I can’t . . . that is, Harrison said I shouldn’t . . .” she stammered, unable to finish, and moved to get to her feet.

The housekeeper caught Annabelle’s arm and held her back. “Harrison said you mustn’t do what?”

When she did not reply, Irene seemed to be satisfied that Annabelle was still sitting there and simply continued to feed the squirrel until the silence between them snapped Annabelle’s willingness to keep her promise.

Mindful of the absolute need to hide the true circumstances of their marriage, Annabelle slowly and carefully explained the rules Harrison expected her to follow regarding the staff, as well as the mistake she had made with Lotte.

Irene listened and nodded occasionally but never offered a comment until Annabelle finished. “To be fair, Harrison’s not entirely wrong. There are certain things you need to avoid when you’re the mistress of the house. Gossip is surely one. Considering every member of the staff as your friend could be a problem, too, but he should have explained it better to you instead of upsetting you the way he did.”

“But it’s not his fault. Not entirely,” Annabelle admitted. “I’ve always done my own chores, and I’ve never lived anywhere that everyone didn’t do their share, even when I was teaching at Mrs. Poore’s Academy. It’s just that I’ve never had a staff to wait on me before.”

“Here, give Jonah this last nut and tell me about this Lotte you’re so worried about,” Irene prompted and placed a nut in Annabelle’s hand, which she promptly tossed to the ground.

“I don’t know much about her at all, except that she was very pleasant and very anxious to do a good job,” she offered and furrowed her brow. “As I recall, I think I overheard her say something about finding her position through a Mrs. Cooper.”

Irene nodded. “Eliza Cooper. I know of her. She operates an establishment in the city that most of the well-to-do turn to when they need to hire another member of their staff.”

Annabelle’s heartbeat quickened. “Then she’ll be able to help Lotte find another position!”

“Not likely,” Irene said as she brushed her heavy coat free of several broken shells. “Without references, which Mrs. Faye surely refused to give her, the poor girl will be hard pressed to find work.” She got to her feet as Jonah raced off with his last handout. “I’d best be getting back to cook up some breakfast before Alan and Peggy have something else to complain about. Do you want to stay here for a while or walk back with me?”

Annabelle shivered, in spite of the fact that the sun was just beginning to break through the clouds. “I’ll walk with you.”

Hooking their arms together, Irene walked alongside of her. “You know, we do need to replace Jane. I can’t promise I’ll be successful, but I can try to see if there’s some way for me to get in touch with Lotte through Eliza Cooper. And don’t worry about what Harrison might say about the matter. I’ve always had free rein to hire the staff at Graymoor Gardens. He knows that.”

“You’d do that? You’d actually consider hiring her to work here? You’d take my word that—”

“If you’ve been a teacher, then I have to assume you’ve got a good head on your shoulders and know what people are like and what they’re not.”

Annabelle swallowed hard and wondered what this woman would say about her ability to judge other people if she knew Annabelle had wrongly married not one man, but two. “I always thought I could.”

“Then trust yourself to know which people can be a friend and which people are likely to betray the trust you place in them. You’re much too good and too smart to be anyone’s puppet. Pull your own strings,” she urged.

Annabelle grinned. She knew without any doubt that this woman was someone she could trust as a friend. She just did not know if she would have the opportunity to prove to Harrison that she was intelligent enough to pull her own strings. As she walked back to the cottage with Irene, Annabelle prayed he would return to Graymoor Gardens soon so they could discuss the matter.

Just as they arrived back at the cottage, a coach drove past and headed for the carriage house next to the stable. “Harrison must be back,” Irene announced and hustled Annabelle into the kitchen, where Alan and Peggy were so busy arguing about what to ask Irene to make for breakfast that they never noticed they were no longer alone.

“Hurry through the tunnel, get back to your room, and get yourself freshened up for your husband,” Irene whispered as she guided her down the basement steps.

When Annabelle frowned, Irene chuckled. “Never underestimate the power you have over him. It’s a power he’s never relinquished to any other woman before you.”

“What power?” Annabelle asked.

“Permission to love him,” Irene said quietly. “I can see it in his eyes every time he looks at you. And if you’re the woman I think you are, you’ll use that power to help him become the man I’ve always known he can be. Now go!”

Annabelle swallowed hard and rushed to the tunnel, hoping she could get back into her room before he discovered she had been in the kitchen. Unlike Irene, she had no false illusions, but she had little time to think about what Irene had said because the sound of footsteps echoing in the tunnel far ahead of her captured her every thought.