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Watching him, Louise felt a touch of pride. Yes, she’d seen something in this young man from the moment he’d knocked on her door, hat in his hand. When others might have turned himaway, she’d offered him employment, lodging, and her trust—which he had kept. “You’re a good man, Frederick.”
For some reason, that, of all things, was the comment that seemed to deflate him, and he looked away. “I’m really not sure I am.”
She waved him aside, scoffing to dispel the gloom that seemed to settle around his shoulders. “Nonsense. Jeeves likes you, and he’s an excellent judge of character.”
Jeeves, snoring slightly from his bed near the fireplace, declined to comment.
Frederick ran a hand through his hair, slicking it back. “Say, Miss Cavendish, I wanted to talk to you about something....”
Oh dear.Louise had never excelled at reading people, but the way Frederick shifted his tone uneasily could mean nothing but bad news.
What could it be? Had he decided to move along earlier than planned? Unlikely, as he’d updated her on the coming harvest just this morning.
An image flashed into her mind, one she’d seen through the curtains of the upper room the day before: young, lively Ginny Atkins perched on the split-rail fence, reading the Christie novel out loud to Freddy and Gio, his new assistant gardener. They had laughed and exchanged glances over Gio’s shoulder.
There was, strictly speaking, nothing wrong with young love. Still, she’d not open herself up to the charge of hiring someone who would play with the hearts of local girls, only to leave once winter came. She’d told Freddy as much before hiring him, and if this was what that was about ... well, there would be no changing her mind.
“Yes?” Her voice had an edge that she didn’t try to temper.
“I’ve been meaning to ask you ... don’t you think you ought to lay off the plans for the library?”
A moment’s blinking was all it took to adjust to the unexpected subject. Of course the Blackout Book Club knew aboutthe library’s impending closing. She’d made no attempt to hide it. But she hadn’t expected Frederick, a temporary resident of Derby, to care. “Why do you say that?”
“I was talking with Mrs. Bianchini, and it sounds like most of the women at the foundry might be too ashamed to use the nursery school. Too much like accepting charity.”
What nonsense.“I’m sure she’s mistaken. No mother would turn down such a sensible solution.”
“But isn’t there some other way?” His pleading expression reminded her of Jeeves seeking a treat.
This is all your fault, Louise scolded herself.That book club is making the whole lot of them sentimental.Had they forgotten the great need she’d be addressing by starting the daycare facility?
Well then, it was up to her to remind them. “The trouble is, Frederick, no one cares about women raising children alone, not even the government. To everyone else, they’re useful tools, expected to work and keep house and mind the children all at once.”
“I’m sure, but what about—?”
No, he didn’t understand. Couldn’t. “Think to yourself what it must be like to be one of these mothers. Their husbands dead, at war, or absent from their families long ago, leaving them to provide and care for children left alone and vulnerable.” She took a deep breath, surprised by the passion in her voice. “Can you see how much they need a nursery school?”
Frederick nodded slowly, fiddling with the dog-tag chain around his neck. “To be honest, Miss Cavendish, I haven’t heard you speak with such feeling about ... well, about anything before. It’s like you understand what they’re going through.”
“Of course I don’t understand,” she said brusquely. “I’ve never raised a child.”
“I only meant that you have a great amount of empathy on this topic.”
For the first time that evening, the hour seemed intolerably late, and Louise rose from her chair, folding the blanket she’d draped over her lap. “Since you seem to consider that a compliment, thank you. But I’ve said all I’d like to on the subject. Good night, Mr. Keats.”
He followed her cue, backing toward the door. “Good night, Miss Cavendish.” He gave a quick nod at the book, abandoned on the end table. “Best of luck solving the mystery.”
She dismissed him with a nod, and soon the creaking floorboards told her that Frederick had made his way to his room in the east wing, the former butler’s quarters.
At least it hadn’t been about Ginny. That conversation, she was sure, would have gone much worse. Surely a boy like Frederick had a decent enough head on his shoulders to realize a fleeting summer romance would be an error in judgment.
Still, she’d watch both Frederick and Ginny a little more closely. Young people often needed help letting go of silly fancies.
You sound like your father, the old, condemning voice whispered before she could silence it.
No, I’ll never be like him.
Still, she didn’t deny that some of her protectiveness came from experience. There were some warnings that needed to be passed on, some heartbreaks that could be avoided.
