“These ladies are most helpful with maternal advice,” Helen said, fiddling with the key at her breast. “Especially Mrs. Kemble.”
Neither Grace, nor her mother had had any patience for that pinched, judgmental woman, but from the moment Helen had met the vicar’s wife, Ianthe Kemble had appointed herself the second Lady Elliot’s bosom friend. She was the last person anyone should listen to when it came to children. The woman loved nothing more than finding fault with any spark of spirit or humor.
“Mrs. Kemble says if I take a firm hand, the boys will accept me in time,” Helen continued. “Why, Bennet is so young, I’ll be the only mama he remembers.”
Was it possible that Bennet, who shared mama’s smile, would forget how wonderful, how fierce and intelligent and wise Barbara Elliot had been? How much Mama had loved him?
Not while Grace drew breath.
She looked past Helen just in time to see the drapes moving in a most unnatural way, the shiny toe of a boy’s boot peeking beneath the fringed hem.
Was Ethan still holding the inkpot?Dear God, don’t let him spill it.
Grace rose and walked toward the door, to draw Helen’s gaze away from her brothers.
“I’ll be happy to take the boys for the afternoon,” Grace offered, linking her arm with Helen’s and drawing her out into the hallway. “I promised them an outing to the lake, and this is a perfect opportunity.” Grace heard a muffled exclamation from behind her and prayed the boys would curb their enthusiasm until she drew Helen out of earshot.
“Oh, would you, Grace?” Helen beamed. “You are an absolute angel!”
No. She’d managed the perfect escape. This way she would not be expected to spend the afternoon smiling while curious neighbors gushed over the peacock wallpaper. Hopefully, none would get close enough to see the birds’ new facial hair. Grace parted from Helen and was on her way upstairs to change into her oldest gown when she all but crashed into Will. Lean and lanky, he looked every bit the young thoroughbred, dressed for riding.
“So, you’re abandoning ship?” she teased.
“I won’t cancel my plans for another of Helen’s crises!” Will declared, a mulish set to his jaw. “She’s turned the whole house topsy-turvy for the past week and if I hear one more mention of her nerves, I vow my head will explode. Mama was sick for three years, and she didn’t fuss half so much.”
No, Mama hadn’t said a word about her pain where Will or the other boys or even their father could hear…but there had been nights while Grace slept on the cot beside her bed when even laudanum hadn’t helped. They’d held each other and wept.
“Iamsorry to leave you to Helen’s machinations, Gracie,” Will said, tapping his riding crop on his gloved hand, “but it’s every man for himself. There is some niece of Lady So-and-Sothat Helen wants me to meet, and I know what that means. If she has her way, she’ll marry the two of us off and pack the wee lads off to school so she and the pater can dally in every room in the house.” He shuddered.
Was he right? Words Helen had spoken when Papa had first brought her to The Willows echoed in Grace’s mind.I have always dreamed of being part of a large family.
Helen had seemed sincere at the time, but an imaginary family and a real one were very different things. Flesh and blood boys seldom wore halos. If only Helen had not pushed quite so hard, or taken the boys’ resistance to change personally. If only…she had been a little more like Mama.
“At least I’ll be off to London with my mates in a few weeks,” Will said. “But you’ll be stuck here.”
Grace rubbed her temple, weary, the future stretching out before her looking rather bleak. It was easy enough for Will to go on his way—as he should! But for her, it was far less simple.
“Promise you’ll never leave us like Mama did…”
Six-year-old Bennet’s words haunted Grace.
She drew a deep breath and looked out the window where the sun glistened over green fields. She would make today the best that she could for the brothers she loved. Seek out fresh air and fun in a place filled with happy memories, and maybe for just a little while they could forget their ‘home’ would never be the same.
There wasno question the boys had been plotting mischief today, Grace thought as she watched her brothers firing mudpies at the forts they’d each built on the lake’s shore out of branchesand stones. She smiled from her cozy spot on a blanket beneath a tree, her heart swelling with love and a fierce protectiveness.
Bicorne hats folded out of the morning’s newspaper perched jauntily on their heads. Small trowels and string trailed from overstuffed pockets. Favorite toy soldiers were mounted on the battlements, or manning an armada of boats constructed of twigs tied together with twine, the wee ships enclosed in a harbor made of stones.
The lads were wound tighter than clockwork, racing about at an almost frenetic pace. Avery had that hard edge to his smile that Grace had learned to be wary of. Ethan wore a secretive look and Bennet wouldn’t quite meet her eyes.
Thank heavens she had carted them far away from their stepmother’s guests, and temptation. Here they could shout and wrestle and squabble with no one to tell them to hush, or objectionable peacocks to deface, no chairs where their mother had once sat occupied by someone else.
Grace felt a surge of freedom as well. She adored the simple dress her mother had always insisted she wear for such family outings, one of the few gowns that hadn’t been dyed black for mourning. It had grown looser since she’d lost weight over the years of worry and change. She sucked in a deep breath, reveling in the fact she could even leave off her corset. But her respite was nearing an end.
The boys were getting tired. Their voices had that thread of querulousness she’d come to recognize. She was thinking of packing up the basket and warning them they’d soon go home, when Bennet came over and snuggled against her. He was a grubby mess, smelling of sweat and lake water and boy.
“Have you had a lovely day, sprig?” Grace asked.
“Except when Avery and Ethan said The Victory would lose our battle.”
