Dare to Kiss (2 page)

What sort of place was this, and what sort of man was her benefactor?

She'd seen some grand libraries, and this wasn't in that style, but it was a handsome room and felt well used and comfortable.

The entrance hall had been paneled in the old style, but was cold. No wonder Sir Benjamin had kept his muffler wrapped around his face. The hall contained a fireplace, but no fire burned there. Perhaps he was short of funds. Shortness of funds was relative, however. He clearly had far more than she.

The warmth was thawing her mind, but that brought only worry.

Did their host have any evil intent? She dismissed that. There was an ambience of respectability here, and around him. She had reason to worry about the future, however. They had shelter for the night, but what was to become of them tomorrow?

She wasn't penniless. If her aunt and uncle had been there to take them in, she could have paid for her family's keep for some time. Given time, she'd have found a way to make money. She might have been able to help her aunt with the seamstress work, or teach village children their letters. Once free of desperation, she knew she'd have found a way forward. She had always been ingenious and hard working.

Now, she felt defeated.

Even if someone would rent a cottage to a woman who seemed to be a vagrant, she could survive no more than months on her money, especially through winter. People stored up food for the winter, but she would have to buy everything.

Ten-year-old Charlotte asked, "What's going to become of us, mama?"

She had a round face and pale blue eyes that had come down from her paternal grandmother. As with her grandmother, those eyes could look coldly accusing. Charlotte was old enough to understand some of what had happened. To know it was all Lily's fault.

Pointless to lie, especially to Charlotte. "I don't know, darling. Let's give thanks for the night's shelter. We'll think more clearly in the morning. There'll be a warm room and a bed...."

Her thawing brain came up with a new problem. Resentful servants could make them miserable.

"We should offer to help. Charlotte, look after the little ones. Michael, come with me."

Michael, her twelve-year-old eldest, was a precious boy, clever, steady, and kind. For years she'd watched anxiously for some of his father's flaws to show, for Michael had inherited Tom's handsome dark looks, but he was true gold. He, too, understood how they'd come to this disaster, but he'd never accused, not even by a look.

Once in the hall, she regretted having taken off her cloak, but the kitchen area should be warm. Below or behind? She guessed it lay at the back of the house and hurried that way.

Soon she could follow voices. Outside the half-open kitchen door, she heard, "...madam can wait. Comfortable enough, isn't she, usurping the master's room?"

As she'd feared.

Lily leaned close to Michael's ear. "You go in, dear, and ask if you can help."

His lips twitched in an understanding smile, and he obeyed.

"Excuse me," he said, impeccably polite, his voice so obviously well-bred, "but may I be of some assistance? I'm sure we're making a great deal of work for you, and I apologize."

As Lily had hoped, the servants couldn't be rude to a polite, apologetic young gentleman.

"Not at all...."

"Don't you worry, young sir...."

"We'll have some soup for you...."

"But I would like to help," he said. "Truly. Perhaps I can take up the warming pans?"

Lily chose that moment to enter. "Michael, are you bothering these good people?"

"No, mama."

"Not at all, ma'am! He was just offering to help, which is very kind of him, I'm sure."

The speaker was a roly-poly, gray-haired woman swathed in a white apron -- which wasn't particularly clean, Lily noted, and not only with today's dirt. The cook, but from the smells, possibly a good one.

The cold-faced man in his thirties would be some sort of footman, and there was a snub-nosed lad. Were these plus the maids the entire staff for a large house? What of a housekeeper?

"Please do let us help," Lily said, trying for an anxious, uncertain tone. "Our being here must be such a burden to you. And with no warning at all. So very kind of Sir Benjamin. Without his Christian kindness I don't know what would have become of us all...."

"Dead for sure, ma'am," said the cook -- clearly the leader here, and given to blunt speech. "A blessing for you that the master came by. But I reckon you'll survive, despite damp beds. The girls are starting fires in the two rooms."

"Thank you! So kind. I'm Mistress Gifford, ma'am. May I be honored with your name?"

The cook preened at being so addressed. "Mistress Kingsley, ma'am, cook-housekeeper here at Brook Hall."

Lily dipped a curtsy. "You must have a great deal of work to do with such a large house, ma'am."

"It's not so bad, ma'am. Normally speaking," the cook added, getting back to chopping vegetables. She looked at the lad. "What are you idling about for? Get down the warming pans! The young gentleman can help you, as he's being so kind. John, bring in more wood, for we'll need it with extra fires burning."

The lad sprang to work eagerly enough, but John, who must be a footman, scowled as he left. Trouble there, for sure.

"You'll have to excuse the chill, ma'am," Mistress Kingsley said. "It's usually only the master, see, and he only uses his bedchamber and the library."

"A gentleman who likes to live simply," Lily said. "That's to his credit. May I help you with what you're doing?"

"No need for that, ma'am." The cook spoke as if Lily had tried to steal from her. She scooped the vegetables into a boiling pot. "I'll have a good soup for you and your children in a trice. I always keep a stock pot bubbling."

"An excellent practice," Lily praised, with honesty.

Despite the cook’s grubby apron, she seemed competent, but she was also the housekeeper. A normal house of this size would be too much work for one.

This household was not normal. Lily was wondering if she could use that.

Warmth and conversation were leading her to the obvious conclusion. If at all possible, she and her children must remain here for a while, until she could devise some other means of survival. Sir Benjamin seemed to be a sad figure, and his house neglected.

"There'll be fresh bread, too, ma'am," the cook said, indicating the big, cut loaf. "Sir Benjamin likes his bread fresh, so I bake every day when he's at home. I can do fancy breads, too. Wiggs, brioches, and honey buns, though I don't get much call on such skills. Not a man for fancy food or sweets, Sir Benjamin."

Lily tucked the information away, but four warming pans were being filled with hot coals and would need to be carried upstairs. She, Michael, and the lad couldn't manage that.

The maids returned then, however, and took over the jobs. Soon the pans were ready, so Lily took one, Michael the other, and they left the kitchen behind the maids. The front maid managed a candle as well as a warming pan, which was admirable dexterity.

Michael winked at her, and she smiled back. He'd come to the same conclusion she had, and he'd do all he could to help. He'd tell Charlotte, who was as quick-witted as he and wouldn't let resentment blind her to the point.

The two of them must do their best to ensure that the little ones were no trouble. Seven-year-old Susan did whine, and five-year-old Tom was insatiably curious. Dear little Anna, poor mite, was never any trouble except for crying if in real distress.

They went up back stairs and emerged into a gloomy corridor with a number of dark wooden doors. The floor was plain, dark wood, but there were some pictures on the walls. All the same, Lily sensed what she'd already guessed, that most of this house was unused and uncared for.

Why did Sir Benjamin Brook live in seclusion and rarely have visitors? He'd seemed normal enough, but could he be deranged? At least it wasn't a full moon.

The maid without the lamp opened a door, and they all went into a handsome bedchamber. Or more exactly, a once-handsome bedchamber. Lily could smell dust, and perhaps even mold, though the fire in the hearth was fighting the damp, and the chimney didn't smoke. She'd lay no money at all on the hangings being free of moth.

The maid with the lamp lit a candle on a chest of drawers. "You and the young gentleman do this one, Becky, and I'll take the lady to the other."

She led the way to the next room, which was much like the other.

They drew back the covers and put in the warming pans. Lily touched the sheets. They weren't very damp, and they'd slept in worse in inns along the way. Beggars should be grateful for what they got.

They pulled the covers back over and worked the pans around the bed. "I'm sorry to be giving you so much trouble," Lily said.

"That's all right, ma'am," the maid said, and even smiled. "We've little enough to do most of the time, and master's been away for nigh on a week."

In such a time you could dust and polish all the un-used rooms, Lily thought, but could see it from the servants' angle. Why should they if the rooms truly were hardly ever used, and no one demanded it? It wasn't right, however. Serious problems could be being ignored. Moth, leaks, rot.

None of your business, she reminded herself.

But then something whispered,
It could be...

She pushed that away as if it might show. "My girls and I will sleep here. And as there's a table, we can eat here, too, the boys as well." Not enough chairs, but they'd manage. "We can fetch and carry our own food."

"We won't mind doing that, ma'am. I'll go down now and see to it."

"Wait." Lily smiled at the girl. "I hesitate to ask anything further, but we all could do with a wash before eating, if hot water is available."

"Oh, yes, ma'am. We've a big copper. We'll bring that up first, then."

She went away, and Lily gave thanks for the maid's willing nature. Overall the servants here did seem willing enough now she and Michael had turned them up sweet. Except the man.

She went into the other room to find Michael alone, working one warming pan. "We have much to be thankful for, mama."

She took the other handle and pushed the pan into the edges of the bed. "Yes, we do."

"Is it too good to be true?"

She went round to hug him. "Oh, Michael, I'm sorry you've learned to be wary. You're right to wonder, but I don't think we're in any danger here. If you consider, once Sir Benjamin stopped he had little choice but to give us shelter. He's clearly a good, Christian gentleman."

He looked at her with Tom's dark-lashed eyes, but without Tom's sneer. "Then perhaps he won't send us on our way until we have somewhere to go?"

"I thought the same, dearest, which is why we must be no trouble."

"But where can we go in the end?"

She'd come to depend on him too much. He was only a lad, and he wanted his mother to make all right.

She would.

She must.

But at this moment she could only say, "I don't know, dearest. Carpe diem. Tonight we have warmth, shelter, and food, and will give thanks to the Lord for it. Let's go and get the others and bring them up here."

Chapter Two

John came to tell Ben that the vagrants had left the library and were in their rooms.

"Not vagrants, John," Ben corrected, but not harshly. John's flaw was to be excessively protective of him.

John had come here as kitchen lad at twelve, one year younger than Ben. He'd not seemed to mind Ben's appearance, so Ben's father hadn't objected to John sharing some of his son's outdoor activities. They weren't exactly friends, for they had few interests in common and were past the age for tree climbing and bat and ball, but it was pleasant to have John as valet rather than a stranger. What need did he have of a fancy gentleman's gentleman? He rarely went anywhere, and never anywhere that required fine style.

"As you say, sir," John said. "But she came down to the kitchen, she did, checking everything out. You should lock their doors tonight."

"You think they'll steal?"

"Why not? They're clearly desperate."

It was something to think about, even though Ben didn't want to. After the stress of being away, all he wanted was his comfortable home and routine. He couldn't regret helping Mistress Gifford and her children, and he'd find it hard to think them thieves, but he wished God hadn't put them in his way.

He left his room cautiously, but was reassured by voices farther down the corridor. They were safely tucked away.

He feared to find the library changed by the invasion, but all was exactly as it should be. The dogs greeted him again, and John brought his soup.

"Ham and chicken, sir."

One of his favorites, and there was Mistress Kingsley's wonderful bread to go with it, thickly buttered.

All was right with his world.

He found the book he'd been reading before traveling to the meeting of the Botanical Fellows in Birmingham and propped it on the stand by his place. He found the page, used the weighted strings to hold it open, then sat to eat his soup whilst reading about new plants discovered in Asia.

He'd like to travel in search of new plants himself. His friend by correspondence, Sir Joseph Banks, planned to go to Newfoundland and Labrador to study their natural history. Banks had suggested that Ben accompany him, but travel would involve constantly meeting new people, something he couldn't bear. There would be correspondence and reports, however, and he still had much to explore in this locality.

John brought lamb chops with spinach and turnips and a decanter of claret.

"Do the Giffords have all they need, John?"

"I believe so, sir."

See, no problems at all.

And tomorrow?
muttered something in his mind.

Carpe diem.

At this moment, all was well with his world.

***

Lily supervised as her daughters washed, then checked on the boys and brought them into the girls' room to eat. Anna had fallen asleep on the carpet, so Lily took off the child’s outer clothing and tucked her in the big bed, safely away from the warming pans. Susie took two mouthfuls of soup and fell asleep where she sat, so she joined her sister.