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“The Beatty sisters are here to see you, Miss Vivianna.” Lil was at the door of the sitting room, her eyes sparkling.
“Thank you, Lil, I’ll come and…”
But it was too late. Miss Susan and Miss Greta were inside the room, clasping her hands, their faces radiating happiness, their eyes teary with joy. They began to speak, their voices a confusion of intermingling words, but somehow Vivianna made sense of it.
“Miss Greentree! Lord Montegomery has given Candlewood to us. Given it to us, as a gift! He will make repairs at once, he says, while we are at Bethnal Green. He will sign Candlewood over to the shelter in perpetuity!”
Vivianna could not speak. After a moment she managed an “Oh,” and a tear ran down her cheek.
Oliver had done this? For the children?
But in her heart Vivianna knew he had not done it for the children, not wholly.
He had done it for her.
And the time had come to beard the monster in his den.
“Miss Greentree is here to see you, my lord.”
Hodge looked disapproving, as always, but Oliver wasn’t deceived. The butler had been looking out for Vivianna every day. And she had come. At last. He could understand she had been busy: By all accounts she was a success. With her passionate views and her way of saying exactly what she meant, Vivianna would be considered fresh and original. Her parentage would never be truly forgotten, and there would always be those who held it against her, but there were many more who were willing to overlook it and like her for herself.
Yes, she had no doubt been busy, but, truth be told, he could not have waited much longer.
“Show her in, Hodge.”
Oliver wondered what she would look like this afternoon. Severe in one of her Yorkshire gowns, feminine with ribbons and bows, or with the queenly elegance of the woman she had been at the opera. But she surprised him yet again. She was wearing white silk, striped in cherry red, that rustled when she moved and gleamed in the light from the windows. Her hair was coiled about her head in braids, and more were looped at the sides. And, most surprising of all, she carried with her a basket in which reposed a large, yellow-eyed tabby cat. It looked heavy.
“Lord Montegomery,” she said, and set the cat down with some relief upon the Turkish rug.
“Miss Greentree,” Oliver said, coming closer. “You never fail to astonish me.” He eyed the cat cautiously. “Who is this?”
“This is Fraser’s cat. I was visiting him before I came here, and Fraser asked me to take care of the cat for him. He tried to make me believe that he does not want him anymore, but what he really wants is to be certain he has gone to a good home, before he dies. Otherwise he will fret, you see. Fraser, I mean, not the cat.”
Oliver thought about this. “What’s his name?”
“Robbie Burns.”
“Of course.”
A tap on the door, and Hodge entered. He was carrying a saucer of milk. “Miss Greentree asked me to bring this, my lord.”
“For Robbie Burns?”
“The poet, my lord?”
“No, the cat, Hodge!”
The saucer was duly placed down on the rug, and Hodge retreated. The cat, in its basket, looked at Oliver, and Oliver looked at Robbie Burns. He sighed. “I know what you want,” he said. “You want me to take the cat. Is that it?”
Vivianna bit her lip, her eyes wide and very green. “I would not ask, but Mama has Krispen at home in Yorkshire, and Krispen can be very jealous. Robbie Burns is a very nice cat, and I am sure he will be no trouble, but he is a man’s cat. He does not take to women.”
“Vivianna, Vivianna,” Oliver murmured, “what more must I do? I have arranged to restore your reputation, I have given Candlewood to your children, and now I must take your father’s cat. Where will it end?”
“I didn’t know it was you who arranged for my reputation to be restored,” she said in a small voice. “You should have told me.”
He glanced at her. “I would have, but you didn’t ask. Your reputation didn’t matter a jot to me, but I could see it might be awkward for you and your family. Prince Albert said you were charming, by the way, and will make me a very obedient wife.”
Vivianna blinked. “Oh.”
