In Good Company (17 page)

“I mentioned my
very
great esteem for the lady at one of the Patriarch Balls well over two years ago.”

“I thought you were only telling me about Caroline because you thought I’d get along well with her, and that you felt she was an appropriate lady for
me
to set my sights on.”

“That was not why I pointed her out to you.”

“Oh . . . I see.” Everett’s collar suddenly felt incredibly tight. “Forgive me, Dudley, because, besides being rather devoid of appropriate words at the moment, I also have no idea what you expect from me now. I hope you realize I certainly wouldn’t have formed an attachment with Caroline if I’d known you’d set your sights on her. But . . . tell me . . . Why
are
you speaking up about this now?”

“I might not have won Caroline’s affections, but she does consider me to be a most loyal friend. As that friend, it’s my duty to look after her best interests, which is why I’m telling you that you need to treat her with greater care.”

Having absolutely no idea how to proceed with what was quickly becoming a most uncomfortable, and unfortunate, state of affairs, Everett felt a small sense of relief when the carriage took that moment to turn off Bellevue Avenue and began rolling up the drive that led to his cottage. As they slowed to a stop, he
caught Dudley’s eye. “I am truly sorry for the misunderstanding you and I apparently suffered. Do know that I appreciate your words, and that I’ll take them to heart and try harder with Caroline.”

“See that you do.”

Sending Dudley one last nod, even though he felt that action was less than sufficient considering what his friend had just disclosed, Everett waited for the driver to open the door, then climbed out of the carriage. A moment later, the carriage trundled down the drive again, leaving Everett staring after it as his thoughts whirled with everything Dudley had said, but more importantly, what Dudley
hadn’t
said.

That the man was still enamored with Caroline, there could be no doubt, but . . . what had been the
real
purpose behind Dudley revealing such sensitive information?

Had he hoped that Everett would reconsider his association with Caroline, and then, after reconsidering it, step aside to allow Dudley the opportunity of finally pursuing the woman of his dreams?

Oddly enough, after Caroline’s behavior of late, that idea held a certain appeal, but . . .

Shoving that completely ridiculous idea aside, Everett forced his thoughts in a different direction, summoning up all of Caroline’s positive attributes instead of her deficiencies. When he began struggling to summon up those positive attributes after less than a minute, he decided he simply wasn’t in the right frame of mind to tax his brain at the moment.

Turning toward his cottage, he drew in a deep breath and forced all unpleasantness aside as he took a moment to simply appreciate the beauty of Seaview, a building he hadn’t set eyes on for almost an entire year.

The businessman in him eyed the fine lines of the roof and
the high-quality of the stone, while also appreciating the fact that he’d been able to negotiate a more than fair deal on the cottage since the original owner had wanted to complete the sale quickly and with as little fuss as possible.

Mr. Barclay and his wife had made the mistake many nouveau rich made in regard to Newport, or more specifically, Newport high society. They’d assumed that since they possessed a rather fine fortune made in the iron industry, they’d be welcomed with open arms.

When that hadn’t happened, and when not a single soul had shown up for the lavish ball Mrs. Barclay had thrown, they had not wanted to linger with their embarrassment. Because of that, Everett had been given the wonderful opportunity of acquiring a summer cottage for a more than reasonable price, and a summer cottage that was certain to increase in value—especially since Mrs. William Astor had decided that Newport was now
the
place to summer. That meant that the majority of high society in New York would soon be scrambling for their own cottages in Newport, if they hadn’t purchased one already, and that meant that Everett had made a very sound investment indeed.

With his mood steadily improving because nothing improved his mood more than proof he’d invested wisely, Everett headed up the steps of Seaview but then found himself staring at a door that remained stubbornly shut against him. Hoping there was not another disaster waiting for him on the other side of the door, he slowly let himself into Seaview, pausing on the threshold to get a sense of the atmosphere. Unfortunately, the only sense he came away with was that something was probably amiss since not a single person was in sight.

The faintest sound of people talking drew him down the long hallway, moving all the way to the very back of the cottage before he finally spotted what seemed to be his entire staff
blocking his path. All of them were standing on tiptoes and craning their necks, and not a single person took note of him until he coughed rather loudly, drawing the attention of a maid. She nudged the maid standing in front of her, who turned and blinked before she nudged the person in front of her, and on it went until the staff suddenly parted straight down the middle and Mr. Macon began walking his way.

“Ah, lovely, another unexpected Mulberry,” his butler said as he stopped right next to Everett.

“What do you mean,
another
unexpected Mulberry, and it certainly shouldn’t be odd to see me here, since this is my residence, and . . . what is that sprinkled in your hair?”

“It’s flour, of course, and I’m perfectly aware of the fact you own Seaview, sir. However, since you were supposed to be escorting Miss Dixon home from some disastrous tennis debacle, I wasn’t expecting you for hours. As for why I said
another Mulberry
, your parents are here.”

“I thought they were in Paris.”

“They’ve apparently cut their trip around the world short.” Mr. Macon shook his head. “Unfortunately, they chose an inopportune time to descend on us.”

“Perhaps you should try explaining that a little more sufficiently.”

“I think it might be best if I simply showed you, sir. It’s a bit of a tricky situation to explain.”

Feeling less than reassured, Everett trudged after Mr. Macon, passing through the staff, all of whom were looking somewhat guilty. Before he could question the reason behind the looks though, Mr. Macon gestured some footmen out of the way, leaving Everett a clear path to the mud room. Waving Everett forward, Mr. Macon stepped aside. “After you.”

Knowing full well he’d come across as a complete coward
if he refused to move another inch, Everett took a deep breath and stepped forward, coming to an abrupt halt when he found himself in a room completely covered in white. Glancing to the right, he found his mother and father standing close together, both of them gawking at something on the other side of the room.

Sending them a nod of acknowledgement, one they missed since they obviously hadn’t become aware of his presence yet, he switched his gaze to where his parents were gawking and found himself completely devoid of speech at the sight that met his eyes.

Elizabeth, Rosetta, and Thaddeus were standing still as statues, completely covered in a white, pasty substance, while Millie stood a few feet away from them, looking slightly water-logged, but with only a light dusting of flour spotting her clothing.

“What happened?” he managed to ask.

“Oh, Everett, thank goodness you’re here.” His mother, Dorothy Mulberry, hurried to his side and hugged him, something that was completely at odds with how she normally greeted him, which was giving him her hand to kiss. She stepped back. “You look a little peaked, dear. Have you not been sleeping well of late?”

“I’m fine, Mother, although sleep can be a little difficult to be had when one is chasing after three children. But my sleep-deprived life aside, what are you doing here? I thought you were intending to travel to India after you finished holidaying in Paris.”

His father, Fletcher Mulberry, joined them, shaking Everett’s hand and looking rather somber. “Your mother’s been having bad dreams about you, son. So many of them of late that we felt it might be for the best to abandon our travels and come home to make certain you’re well.”

“You crossed an entire ocean because Mother’s having . . . dreams?” Everett asked slowly.

“And it’s a good thing we did,” Dorothy said before Fletcher could speak. “Why, it’s clear you’re in trouble, son, but no need to fear. I’m here now, and I’ve already taken care of one order of business for you.” She turned her head and narrowed her eyes on Millie. “I’ve dismissed that horrible nanny, and I shall take it upon myself to find you someone more . . . suitable.”

“You’ve dismissed Millie?” he asked, glancing to Millie, who was nodding her head and looking rather resigned. Although . . .

His gaze sharpened on her. “Good heavens, Millie, is that a
lump
on your head?”

Not allowing Millie an opportunity to reply, his mother stepped directly in front of him, blocking Millie from sight.

“Why do you keep calling the nanny by her given name? It’s hardly in keeping with the expected code of conduct for someone of your social status.”

Everett frowned. “Interestingly enough, you’re not the first person to voice that very same thought to me today. I must admit to you here and now, though, that I’m finding the unmitigated snobbery I’ve encountered so much of late to be completely unacceptable.”

“Forgive me, dear, but it almost sounds as if you’re accusing me of being a snob.” Dorothy craned her neck and then, for some peculiar reason, nodded toward Mr. Macon. “In my opinion, I’m no more of a snob than your butler.”

“Pardon me, Mrs. Mulberry,” Mr. Macon began, “but I may not be the best example to point out in this particular instance, considering I freely admit I’m a huge snob.”

“You’re not exactly helping the situation, Mr. Macon,” Everett said before he looked back at his mother. “But, snobbery aside, to answer your question of why I call Millie by her
given name, do you not recall the letter I sent you regarding Oliver and Miss Peabody?”

“Of course I recall it, and while we’re on the subject of dear Oliver, I hope you remembered to pass on my best wishes to him.”

“I actually thought you might not have paid close attention to the circumstances I laid out in that letter, and because of that, I have yet to pass on your best wishes.”

Dorothy’s brow creased. “What circumstances?”

“That Harriet worked in a hat shop when Oliver first met her, and that she lived in a tenement slum with a nanny, Miss Longfellow, and an actress, Miss Plum.”

“I fully remember that from your letter, Everett, but you also wrote that Miss Peabody turned out to be far more than a hat girl, which is why I was completely delighted to learn of the upcoming union.”

“Would you not have been delighted if Harriet hadn’t discovered she was more than a hat girl?”

“Are you going to accuse me of unmitigated snobbery again if I admit to that?”

Everett smiled. “Probably, but to get back to the point I was going to make, the
Miss Longfellow
I was speaking about is none other than Millie, and . . . not only is she good friends with Miss Peabody, she’s also wonderful friends with Mrs. Charles Hart, a lady who, as luck would have it, has also come to Newport for the summer festivities, and . . .”

“I know who Abigail Hart is,” Dorothy interrupted. “But . . . didn’t you also write that Abigail had a hand in getting Oliver and Harriet betrothed?”

Everett refused to wince. “I might have written something like that.”

Turning on her heel, Dorothy marched over to join Everett’s
father, who’d retreated a safe distance from most of the flour. “We’ve arrived just in the nick of time, my dear. It’s clear Abigail Hart is up to something, which means I’ll be having a little talk with her soon. But for now”—she sent a single nod to Millie—“you need to go and fetch your belongings. I won’t suffer you under my son’s roof another second, not when it’s just been made clear you have nefarious ideas on your mind.”

Millie stuck her hand in her pocket, pulled out a dictionary that seemed rather soggy, and began flipping through the pages, the wetness of the paper giving her a great deal of difficulty. She finally stopped flipping and ran her finger down a page. “Nefarious, nefarious, ah . . . here it is.” She lifted her head. “Honestly, that’s a bit harsh, Mrs. Mulberry, because I can assure you that I have absolutely nothing of a wicked or evil nature on my mind.”

Everett wasn’t certain but he thought his father let out a snort of laughter, until his mother elbowed the poor man in the ribs, which had him then letting out a grunt.

“Really, Fletcher, this is hardly the time for amusement,” Dorothy said before she nodded at Millie again. “There’s no need for you to linger. As I said before, your services are no longer wanted here.”

Millie stuck the dictionary back in her pocket. “Since I don’t make it a habit to linger where I’m not wanted, I’ll just be off to fetch my bag. Although arrangements will need to be made to deliver those trunks Abigail—”

“Miss Longfellow shouldn’t be dismissed from her position because nothing about today was her fault. It was mine.”

Everett found himself completely taken aback when none other than Elizabeth stepped forward, her stepping hampered by the fact her shoes were covered in paste and kept sticking
to the floor. She finally made it across the room and came to a stop in front of him.

“You can’t dismiss Miss Longfellow, Uncle Everett. It was my doing, all of this.” She waved a hand at the mess, her siblings, and then to Millie, the waving sending a glob of paste up to attach itself to the ceiling.

Pulling his attention away from the glob that was certainly going to drop soon, Everett caught Elizabeth’s eye. “I’m not exactly certain how this could possibly be your fault, when you’re looking far worse than Millie is.”

Elizabeth drew in a breath before she straightened her spine. “Miss Longfellow annoyed me because . . . well, it doesn’t really matter. But because of that, I decided I was going to make her leave once and for all. I filled up a wash basin with water and set it on top of a door I left cracked open just the slightest bit. I knew Miss Longfellow would eventually come in my room to check on me, especially since I made sure Rose heard me crying, or what she thought was crying.”