The Patricia Kiyono Christmas Collection (47 page)

“
Excellent suggestion, Miss
Brown,” he agreed.

Robert seems more cordial tonight. I wonder
if someone took him to task on how to treat the children.

She took the girls to the back and
demonstrated again. She gathered her skirt in her hands, pulled
outward, and placing one foot behind the other, bent her knees.
“Keep your face down and don’t say anything until you are spoken
to.” The girls all imitated her with varying degrees of success.
Jeanne caught a little girl just before she toppled over. “Maggie,
don’t put your leg so far back. You don’t want to tip over when you
bend your knees. Mary, keep your head down. It’s not polite to look
the duke and duchess in the eye when you’re curtseying.”

While Jeanne worked with the girls, she
could hear Robert instructing the boys. He reminded them that even
though they were already familiar with the couple as instructors,
they would be expected to behave differently while guests in their
home. “When they are here, they are your teachers. But in their
home, they are nobility, and you must learn how to conduct yourself
in their world.”

And there it was.
Our world and their world.
Her wealthy French grandfather, Louis Gaudet, had the same
mindset and had been livid when his daughter Marie had run off and
married Michael Brown. The man was not only a commoner, but
an
English
commoner. Monsieur Gaudet had made it very clear what he
thought of his son-in-law and had never accepted the grandchildren
from that union. Finally, Michael, Marie, and the children had
moved to England, closer to Michael’s family, and
Grandpère
had disowned
his daughter entirely.

Jeanne shook off her memories. Nothing would
be gained by wishing for what could never be. Noticing that the
boys had finished, she told the girls, “We’ll practice again next
time. Let’s go back to our seats and see what else Mr. Townley has
planned.”

Once the girls were back in their seats,
Robert announced, “After all the dinner guests have arrived, the
butler will announce the serving of the meal. Lords and ladies
enter the dining room in order of their rank — that is, dukes and
duchesses first, then marquesses, then earls, and so on. Why don’t
we practice getting in line by your ages? The eldest first, the
youngest at the back.”

This suggestion met with a little confusion.
Several children had no idea how old they were.

“
Mum says I was born in the
winter,” one girl offered.

“
And I’m older than my
brother,” a taller boy said.

“
All right then, why don’t
we simply line them up by height?” Jeanne suggested.

Robert nodded his agreement, and they
arranged the children with the tallest at the head of the line.
Then he led the line over to the benches and had them sit in the
order they entered. He and Giles distributed the napkins,
explaining that they should sit back while someone would place them
in the children’s laps.

“
The first course to be
served is the soup. There are some very important things to
remember. First, you do not begin eating before the duke. When he
picks up his spoon, that is your signal for you to do the same.
Understand?”

The children nodded solemnly.

“
Second, you do not pick up
your bowl. Use the spoon next to your bowl. Scoop a little bit of
soup and drink it from there, but do not make noise. The quieter
you are when eating, the better.”

“
But I don’t want to use my
spoon to eat my soup,” one of the boys complained. “Why can’t I
just pick up the bowl and drink it like I do at home?”

As Jeanne expected, Robert’s quick intake of
breath told her he was taken aback. “Young man,” Robert began.

She raised her hand, intending to soften
Robert’s reprimand, but before either of them could utter another
word, a roar erupted from the side of the room where the parents
watched the lesson. A large man gunned his way toward them, and
Jeanne bit her lip, fearing for the valet’s life. But the man
stepped around Robert and grabbed the boy by the collar, lifting
him out of his seat.

“
You do what the man says,
ya little bugger! Ye’ve got a chance ta eat fancy food at the home
of a real duke and duchess, and all they’re asking of ya is ta eat
nice and proper. Don’t you realize what a glorious honor that is?
People like us, we don’t get invitations like that. We don’t visit
’ouses like theirs unless we’re gonna clean the chimney or fix the
roof. Mr. Townley and Miss Brown here, they’re teachin’ ya some
fancy manners. If you learn this, maybe some day you can work in
one of them big ’ouses like they do, and you won’t have ta eat cold
mush and always wonder where yer next meal is comin’ from. You
won’t have ta worry about whether or not the family is gonna freeze
to death cuz ya didn’t have money for firewood. Ye’ve got a chance
to move up, son, and if you don’t do what they say, I’ll show you
what
really
hard
work is. And then you’ll be
beggin’
ta use your spoon the way they say. Ya understand
me?”

The boy nodded, and his father set him back
on the bench. Straightening, the man nodded at Robert. “Beggin’ yer
pardon ’bout the interruption. My Johnny’s gonna try a lot harder
now. Right, son?” He waited for his son’s nod then touched his cap
and returned to the side of the room.

Robert, clearly rattled, cleared his throat.
“Er, let’s get started. Mr. Newsome, Miss Stark, please serve the
soup so the children can practice.”

After each child got a bowl of the savory
soup, Robert went over to the boy who’d complained about using the
spoon. Jeanne wondered what he intended to do. Would he berate the
child? She watched as the tall man bent and took the boy’s hand in
his, placing the spoon in it and guiding it to his mouth. He
repeated the motion, gently encouraging, until the boy demonstrated
the ability to do it correctly.

Jeanne couldn’t believe her eyes. Had the
man frightened some sense into Robert? Was he afraid that if he
mistreated Johnny, his father would retaliate? She worked with some
of the others, guiding their little hands as they used the
utensils, reminding them to say please and thank you and swallowing
everything in their mouths before putting in the next spoonful.
That, by far, was the most difficult. She understood why they felt
tempted to eat as quickly as possible — she’d been hungry herself
and when food was available, she’d eaten it quickly. “When you are
at the duke’s table, there will be plenty of food,” she reminded
them. “You won’t have to eat quickly because when the food on the
table is gone, more will be brought out.”

The room went silent, and ten pairs of eyes
stared in amazement. “Truly, Miss Brown? They’ll bring more food if
we eat it all?”

“
Yes,” she
promised.

“
But,” Robert added, “if
the duke puts his spoon down, you must do so also.”

Jeanne nearly groaned. If the children felt
they needed to rush through their dinner, they might have more
trouble. She’d have to reassure them there would be time to eat
their fill. Robert might be learning, but he had a long way to
go.

For the next
several sessions, the children continued lessons
on table manners. Each night Jeanne and Robert focused on a
different part of the meal. They taught the students how to hold
the utensils while they cut their food and how to lift pieces of
meat and vegetables with their forks. They practiced eating smaller
bites and chewing with their mouths closed. Since they’d changed
the routine to serve the food at the beginning of the session,
Jeanne took the last part of the instruction time to teach a few
Christmas songs.

“
The duchess loves these
songs, so when you sing them, this will be your gift to her,” she
explained.

Since the little Peartree’s arrival was
imminent, the duke and duchess rarely left the townhouse. Amelia
spent much of the day in her sitting room, writing or reading.
Phillip, when not at Parliament, spent his time with his wife,
reading or pacing.

That left Robert and Jeanne with more free
time than usual. Jeanne, wanting to keep her hands busy, began
knitting an assortment of gifts for the new baby. She noted that
Robert often left the house in the mid-afternoon for a few hours.
He would return, his face flushed from exertion. and his coat open,
despite the chilly December temperatures. Where did he go that he
would become so warm as to not need to bundle up?

With each lesson, Robert seemed to be more
comfortable with the idea of the children coming to the house.
Jeanne noticed he didn’t act so distant and actually listened to
the children when they asked questions. He addressed them by name
rather than young man or young lady and even cracked a smile from
time to time.

On one particular evening, the students had
just settled in their seats. “Where’s Andy?” someone asked.

“
I’m here,” a small voice
responded. When he stepped out from behind one of the wide columns
separating the chapel from the main sanctuary, Jeanne hardly
recognized the poor boy. His left eye was swollen shut, and he
walked with a limp. His breathing was labored, and blood ran from
his lip. With a cry of distress, she ran to him.

“
You poor, dear boy.” She
brought him to where Nancy waited with the napkins. Taking one, she
wet it and gently washed his face. Behind her, she heard Robert
talking to the rest of the students. He stopped abruptly when the
church doors slammed open.

Everyone froze, except Andy. He raced to the
side of the room where the parents watched and hid under a bench
where a large woman sat with her knitting. The woman quickly
arranged her skirt so that the boy was completely hidden.

A dirty, ill-kept bear of a man stumbled
into the chapel. “Where’s me son? I know he’s hiding out ’ere. His
mum tries ta hide ’im but I figured it out. He’s ’ere somewhere.”
His slurred speech and rancid breath indicated a recent visit to a
tavern.

Jeanne made a move to confront the intruder,
but Robert was faster. He planted himself in the man’s path. “Sir,
you are disrupting this class, and I’ll thank you to leave,” Robert
informed him.

“
Ye’ll thank me?” the man
mocked in a high voice. “Thank me to leave, will ya? Aren’t you the
fancy little gent.” His tone changed back to the menacing howl.
“Where is he?”

“
Since you haven’t given me
a name, I can’t tell you. Our lessons are not over, so unless this
is an emergency, you will need to leave now.”

“
Since when does a wee bit
of a man tell Archie Sommers what to do?” the man roared. “Nobody
orders me about. Not my good-for-nothin’ wife, not my worthless
son, and not you.” He reared back and brought his fist toward
Robert’s head.

Robert dodged it easily and delivered a blow
to the man’s abdomen.

Jeanne gasped and looked about for something
to hit the man with, but soon realized her help wasn’t needed.
Archie doubled over from the first punch, leaving himself open to
several well-placed blows. Howling in pain, he lashed out blindly,
but failed to connect with his target.

Concerned for the children’s safety, Jeanne
herded them toward their parents, who quickly moved to shield them
against the intruder. A few of the men came forward, ready to
assist, but Robert deftly avoided Archie’s fists while landing
several solid punches. Finally, the larger man gave up and
scrambled out of the chapel and through the main sanctuary,
screaming for help.

Robert, on the other hand, seemed hardly
winded. He simply straightened his collar, pulled his vest down,
ran a hand through his hair, and cleared his throat. “I apologize
for the disruption. Let’s resume our lesson.”

Jeanne clamped her gaping mouth closed.
Realizing Andy still hid, she went over to the bench. “It’s all
right, Andy. He’s gone.”

The little boy crawled out and stared with
big eyes. “Someone fought my papa?”

“
Er, yes. Mr. Townley got
him to leave.”

He stared at the valet. “How?”

“
It were a sight, it was,”
declared the knitting woman. “Archie came in swingin’, but Mr.
Townley stopped ’im and delivered a few blows to the gut. Archie
didn’t like it one bit and tried ta fight back, but between the
drink and Mr. Townley’s punches he weren’t no match. I never
thought I’d see the day when a man in a fine suit would get the
best of him, but Townley ’ere did a fine job.” She looked at
Jeanne. “You’ll be safe enough with ’im as yer escort.”

Jeanne had nothing to say, so she simply
nodded. “Come, children. Let’s go back to our seats.”

She held Andy’s hand and noticed he still
limped. “Did your father… hurt you today?”

He looked up at her with sad eyes. “He was
hitting Mummy. And I tried to stop him. She begged me to go but I
didn’t want to leave her alone with him…” He started to cry and she
knelt, wrapping her arms around him.

~~~~

Robert watched
Jeanne
comfort the little boy, and his
heart ached. For the rest of the evening, he listened to his pupils
with half an ear. Andy’s face showed the power of his father’s
fists. How could a father do that to his own son? When Archie had
taken a swing at him, he’d instinctively hit back. He’d surprised
the man, who was apparently used to being the powerful one. And if
he’d been sober, he might have been a formidable foe. Thankfully,
drink had diminished his skill, and it had been easy to defeat him.
This time.