Lady of Milkweed Manor (49 page)

She could not meet his eyes, nor stop the slight lift of her lips. “I know what you meant,” she whispered.

Walking with Anne through nearby Russell Square on a fine autumn afternoon, Charlotte almost collided with a young boy running past, pulling a Chinese-dragon kite behind him. “Regardez-moi! Regardez-moi!” the boy yelled in perfect French accent.

“Tres bien, Jonathan.”

Charlotte glanced over and saw an elegantly dressed young woman sitting on a park bench, her gaze fixed on the running boy.

Two finely dressed ladies walking together approached from the other direction. They, too, seemed to be watching the elegant young lady and her charge.

“I have contracted with an agency in Piccadilly to arrange for a French governess for Henry.”

“I know you will be pleased. I would never go back to an English governess. They are so dour, and usually not as well educated as the French girls who come over.”

Charlotte looked more closely at the elegant young woman. She had dark hair in a fashionable coil, and her dress seemed as fine as those the English ladies wore. As Charlotte passed by she looked at the woman’s face more closely. She was reminded of Lizette Taylor.

The next morning, as Charlotte sat at the kitchen table enjoying a cup of coffee and the quiet of a morning in which she had arisen before Anne, Marie dropped a section of newspaper before her.

“Voila,” the woman said, the paper slapping the tabletop. She had already turned back to the blood sausage and tomatoes she was frying before Charlotte could respond.

She looked at the paper. Folded in quarters as it was, she could not miss the bold print Marie wanted her to see.

French Governesses. Highest education. Excellent references. Qualified to teach literature, music, French, and etiquette. Paris Agency, 212 George-court, Piccadilly

Charlotte knocked on Dr. Taylor’s study door.

“Enter.”

As she pushed the door open, he looked up from the thick book he was reading. “Hello, Miss Lamb.”

“Have you a moment?”

“Of course.” He closed his book, and as he did, she noticed it was a Bible.

Inclining her chin toward the volume, she asked, “Old Testament or New?”

He grinned. “Old. Someone once told me I should read it more often.”

She smiled and then bit her lip, remembering her mission. “Dr. Taylor. It has come to my attention that many English families are hiring French governesses to care for their children.”

He looked at her blankly.

“It seems the fashion now,” Charlotte added.

“I care little for fashion, as you know.”

“Yes. But I was thinking you might desire a French education for Anne.”

He looked at her, clearly perplexed.

“She could grow up speaking both English and French,” Charlotte continued. “Mrs. Taylor would have liked that.”

He shrugged. “True. But you speak French.”

“Very ill. My accent is far from authentic.”

He stared at her, clearly unsure of her meaning.

“I understand there is an agency in Piccadilly for French governesses.

“Miss Lamb, I don’t understand. Are you suggesting I replace you?”

“I am only thinking of Anne, what is best for her.”

“What is best for her … or you?”

The implication stung.

He sighed. “I am only saying that if you wish to leave us, come out and say so.”

“I do not wish to, but nor do I wish for you to feel obligated. You must think of Anne’s future. Do what is in her best interests.”

“I have. I believe you, Miss Lamb, are in Anne’s best interests.”

She lowered her head. “Thank you.”

“But-“

She looked up. He was regarding her with an intensity that made her want to look away again. “There is another position I would offer you. If you were willing.”

As she took in the longing, the trepidation, even the passion in his eyes, realization dawned. She had been a fool these last few months. He did want her, in every way a man wants a woman.

He rose and walked around his desk. Reaching past her, he shut the door quietly behind her. That done, he did not move away but stood close to her.

“You could become my wife.”

For Anne’s sake, for hers, for his own even, he would marry her. Even though he was not through mourning his wife. She ought to be relieved, she ought to be happy, but she was not. As the dread, the sudden irrational urge to turn and flee washed over her, she saw the reason clearly.

“What is it?” he asked, obviously not seeing the reaction he’d hoped for in her expression. “Have you no regard for me? Or is your father’s approval still so important to you?”

“Of course not. I long ago gave up hope of winning Father’s approval. As far as my regard for you, it is of the highest order.”

“Then why do you hesitate? I realize it is too soon for me to make a proper offer, but I thought, in the circumstances-“

“You do me a great honor, Dr. Taylor. But-” And here she paused, taking a deep breath. “You see, as long as I can tell myself that I am in no suitable state to raise my son, then I can bear his absence. I can console myself with the wisdom that he is better off where he is, that I can barely provide for myself, let alone another. But if my situation were to suddenly change … if I were in a position where I could reasonably provide for him … and still … still I could not have him with me … that I could not bear. Do you understand? Does that make any sense at all?”

“I don’t think … Are you saying that you must remain alone in order to bear his loss?”

She swallowed. “Yes.”

“But would not the support of another make the loss more bearable? Or the possibility of another child someday?”

“I cannot think of that. He can never be replaced.”

“Of course not. Still, the loneliness would be abated, would it not?”

“Perhaps. But I will always want him back. Always long for him.”

“Perhaps there is something we can do. Your uncle is a solicitor. Perhaps-“

“No. I gave my word.”

“Yes, but you were distraught, desperate. You thought you had no other choice, but now you do.”

“Even if my circumstances change, I have not.”

“But you have. You had just recently given birth. Changes occur in a mother’s psyche, in her nerves, her mind, as I know all too well.”

“But I knew what I was doing. Terrible as it was.”

“Yes-then. But now-“

“I gave my word.”

He opened his mouth as if to argue further, then closed it again. Frustration was evident in his stance and features.

“In any case, I could not do it to Edmund. How confusing and cruel it would be to rip his world, his very concept of himself, asunder. I cannot do it. I won’t.”

“But still … will you not reconsider … ?”

She looked at Daniel and felt tears filling her eyes. Slowly, she shook her head. “I cannot.”

Was she making a terrible mistake? She remembered bemoaning the realization that she had let circumstances and the will of others set her course on many occasions. But now she had made a decision of her own, rejecting the only offer of marriage she had ever received, or was likely ever to receive. But she had made the only decision she could at present. She had chosen to stay her present course.

She could only hope fate would concur in the months and years ahead.

Surely ‘tis better, when summer is over To die when all fair things are fading away.

THOMAS HAYNES BAYLY, I’D BE A BUTTERFLY

Monarch butterflies are not native to Great Britain, but individuals are found in the south each year. … blown there by strong winds.

JOURNEY NORTH

The butterfly is at the center of numerous superstitions the world over, and in some parts of Germany it is called “milk thief.”

ANATOLY LIBERMAN, THE OXFORD ETYMOLOGIST

CHAPTER 3 3

wo years had passed since Charlotte returned to London with the Taylors.

She walked slowly up the cobbled street toward the old Manor Home on Store Street. Milkweed Manor, she thought wryly of the moniker by which the place was infamously known. She could hardly believe it had been more than three years since she had first walked this way, carrying her child within her. This being autumn, the day was colder, and beneath Charlotte’s wool cape, a bulge was mildly noticeable, much as it had been then.