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Giulia rose. “Come, Pippa. Shall we get started on our lessons a little early today?”
Pippa’s nose scrunched and her shoulders drooped. “If we absolutely must.”
Giulia took her hand and led the girl from the room while Mabel did her best not to laugh. She dearly wished Pippa could stay a seven-year-old forever.
Straightening against her pillows, Mabel gestured her housekeeper forward. “What is the trouble, Mrs. Henderson?”
“There is no trouble, dear. Not exactly.” She glanced at the ceiling for a moment as if looking for what she meant to say.
“Well?”
“It is only that I feel I need to say something to you, but I do not wish to be impertinent.”
Mabel’s hands fisted the blanket. “Is someone in danger?”
“No, ma’am.”
“Please, speak your mind.”
Mrs. Henderson took a step closer, glancing over her shoulder before settling her gaze on Mabel. “I was not witness to this myself, ma’am, but heard it directly from Peter after he finished serving breakfast.”
“Yes?”
She cleared her throat. “It would appear that a certain guest has felt it her duty to step in and concern herself with matters of the house as though she was the mistress.”
Mabel bristled. She could well imagine who this guest might be, and why she wished to do that. But the truth remained that when Charles married, his wife would take on that very important role. Perhaps, in Mabel’s absence, they might all practice, as it were.
“Miss Pemberton?” Mabel confirmed.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Then I believe it is wise to treat her as though she was the lady of the house. She very well might be by the end of the summer. Perhaps we could think of these next few days as something of a trial to show Miss Pemberton precisely what her life will be like should she become mistress in truth.”
Mrs. Henderson did not appear the least pleased with this plan, but she agreed. “The menus, then?”
“Take them to her for approval. And any sort of snag you come upon in the course of your day, please take the issues to her to be resolved. I am certain she will do so with great satisfaction.”
“Shall I, um…would you like me to inform you of how she gets on?”
“No, thank you. I believe I will take full advantage of this break and simply rest, Mrs. Henderson. I have full faith in you.”
That seemed to harden the older woman’s courage. She gave a clipped nod and left the room, closing the door behind her. And Mabel slunk into blessed relaxation.
* * *
Mac watched Mrs. Sheffield stack her playing cards once again, hitting them against the table with jarring thunks. Candlelight flickered against the window, casting a dancing shadow over the elderly woman as she began another game with Mrs. Boucher. The entire day had come and gone without one blessed glimpse of Mabel, and Mac was growing antsy.
Miss Pemberton had slid into the role of hostess with alarming finesse, ordering the servants about as though this was her home and Mabel was gone for good. It gave Mac the desire to meet one of the men outside for a bout of friendly fisticuffs, but he had no takers. Not that he’d asked. He was fearful of actually hurting one of his friends with all of his pent-up energy.
Sweeping the room, his gaze landed on Wright leaning against the pianoforte at the end of the room as Miss Sophy picked out a song in between bouts of tinkling laughter. Well, there was one man he wouldn’t mind venting his frustration on. But despite his avid dislike of the sailor, Wright had yet to give any actual cause for Mac to swing at him.
Pity, that.
“When shall we plan to venture to the sea?” Miss Pemberton asked Charles, who sat nearby.
“The moment Mabel is well enough for the trip, we shall go.”
Miss Pemberton nodded smoothly. “Of course. We would not wish to go without her, naturally.”
