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CHAPTER10
An enormous sneeze shook the schoolroom as Isleen opened the door. The sound, unexpected and loud as it was, startled her into placing her hand over her chest. “Goodness, me. What goes on in here?”
The children sat around a table, books before them, and they looked up at Isleen with varying expressions of boredom. The children’s schoolroom overlooked the front terrace and down into the duchess’s gardens, with the large windows Isleen had grown used to seeing in the rest of the house. This kept the room bright and welcoming, as did the various things on tables and shelves. Books, a dollhouse, miniature soldiers and animals, a beautiful globe, colored paper and ribbons, small canvases of works by the children.
It was quite lovely.
“I beg your pardon, Miss Frost.” Mrs. Robinson’s voice was muted, her nose obviously blocked. She sniffled with a handkerchief pressed over her face. “Ever since that walk in the wind yesterday, I have not felt entirely well. But we are managing, are we not, children?”
“I suppose,” Lord James grumbled.
Fiona closed her book. “I think Mrs. Robinson ought to rest, but she keeps denying herself so much as a cup of tea.”
“Oh, fiddlesticks.” Mrs. Robinson put one hand on her hip. “There is nothing wrong with me. The wind stirred up too much dust, is all—” She cut herself off by turning around to sneeze into her handkerchief again.
“You see?” Fiona said, crossing her arms. “She needs a nap. You would make me take a nap, wouldn’t you, Isleen?”
Lady Isabelle closed her book, her delicate fingers resting on its cover. “Mrs. Robinson, you are being dreadfully stubborn. And we do so love you. Won’t you rest? If only to make us worry less.” She was certainly the oldest and most mature of the children sitting around that table.
“I think I must agree with Lady Isabelle.” Isleen came all the way around the table, standing near the governess. Mrs. Robinson had a caring way about her, and she had done well taking Fiona and Lord James in hand. Isleen could certainly take time out of her day to show the woman kindness. “Why not pop into your room for a nap, Mrs. Robinson? I can look after the children for an hour or two.”
“Oh, I couldn’t possibly allow you to do that, miss.” She sniffled again. “You are a guest. And the children are my responsibility.”
“Very true. But I came to spend time with my sister, and there is no need for both of us to be here. Please, Mrs. Robinson. I can keep them entertained. And when you wake, you will be right as rain. I am certain of it. Of course, you must take tea before you rest. Why don’t you see to that while I settle in with the children?”
Mrs. Robinson hesitated again, but finally nodded. “All right. But no more than an hour. I will fetch my tea myself. And if you need anything, fetch me at once, if you please.” She pointed to the doorway that led to the nursery, and through it to her room.
A governess was never far from her charges, even when sleeping. Isleen’s heart went out to the woman. Whether she held her position out of necessity or for the joy of it, Isleen did not know. But it could not be an easy position. Even in a place with employers as considerate as the duke and duchess.
As soon as Mrs. Robinson had gone, Isleen pointed at the books on the table. “Is anyone still wanting to read?” The remaining open books snapped closed, and four pairs of eyes were on her. She laughed, and said with a merry voice, “I thought not.”
“What are we going to do now?” Lord James asked, seeming more perturbed than relieved. “It’s too cold to go out.”
“First, I thought I would tell you how your scheme with the rhyming went.” Isleen took an empty chair from the table and pulled it out, sat, and smoothed her skirts out around her. “Would you like to know how that went yesterday?”
Isabelle groaned. “You really did it? You teased Simon about his poetry?”
“Oh, better than that.” Isleen didn’t even try to hide her wicked grin. “I made him speak in rhyme. Until someone else realized it, of course, because then it wouldn’t be any fun. But he did it. Without complaint, I might add.”
Lord James snickered, then leaned back in his chair. “I knew that would be a jolly good trick.”
“Andrew and Simon used to tell that story about the poetry all the time,” Lady Rosalind said, an amused smile on her face. “Who caught him?”
“Sir Andrew, of course. He told me all about it at dinner last evening.” Isleen picked up a red piece of paper from the middle of the table. “What is this for?”
“Paper chains.” Fiona lifted the stack to show her the white underneath. “We were going to make them today, to hang up wherever Her Grace wants them as part of the ‘festive decor.’ Mrs. Robinson said.”
“We hung them on the tree last year,” Lady Isabelle put in. “Paper chains, red ribbon, and gingerbread biscuits.”
“And the toy soldiers,” Lord James put in.
Isleen stood again and went to the shelves. She had spied a small pot with sheers inside. She brought the thing to the table and put it down, taking a pair of scissors for herself. “I still cannot think why anyone would wish to bring a tree indoors.”
Rosalind took another pair of scissors. “It is great fun, to see it decorated. And we don’t bring it in every year. Three years ago, we had an ice sculpture instead.”
“An ice sculpture? I haven’t seen many of those.” Isleen started cutting a strip of paper.
“It was a swan.” The little boy sounded disappointed, even then. “Why couldn’t it be a lion or an elephant? We see swans all the time.”
