Heaven Sent (13 page)

Becky executed another curtsy. She was
rumpled, too, Aubrey noticed with a sinking heart. Bilgewater was
certain to disapprove. “Good morning, Great-Aunt Evelyn,” Becky
said dutifully, but without enthusiasm.

Mrs. Bridgewater scanned the little
girl with growing dissatisfaction. “What have you been doing with
yourself, child? Your dress is a mess.” Squinting through her
spectacles at Becky she said, “And so is your face.”

Becky shot a quick glance up at her
father. Aubrey was pleased at this indication that she hadn’t
completely detached herself from him but still sought his guidance
and approval in uncertain circumstances. He nodded and smiled down
at her, hoping to give her the courage to relate whatever it was
she and Miss Prophet had been doing. She didn’t disappoint
him.

“
Miss Prophet and I were out
collecting birds’ nests, Great-Aunt Evelyn.”

“
Birds' nests? Have you been
climbing trees, child?” Mrs. Bridgewater clearly did not sanction
such antics.

But Becky’s enthusiasm for her recent
outdoor pursuits overcame her fear of disapproval. She said
brightly, “Oh, yes! It’s autumn, you know, and the baby birds have
flown away. We’ve found tons of feathers, and so far we’ve
collected a robin’s nest and a tanager’s nest and a blue jay’s
nest. Miss Prophet can tell the difference between all kinds of
birds’ nests.” She sounded as if she thought Miss Prophet’s
knowledge of bird life was the most amazing thing she’d ever
encountered.

“
Miss Prophet?” Mrs.
Bridgewater’s nose wrinkled as if she’d smelled something putrid.
“Is that Miss Prophet?” Becky’s great-aunt would never do anything
so gauche as to point a finger, but she inclined her chin in
Callie’s direction, and both Becky and Aubrey turned to look at
her. Aubrey was surprised to see the color climb into the nanny’s
cheeks. He couldn’t recall ever seeing her react in embarrassment
to anything or anyone before this moment. He wasn’t, on the other
hand, surprised to see her lift her chin and look defiant, in spite
of the blush in her cheeks.

With a sigh, he said, “Will you please
step forward, Miss Prophet? Let me introduce you to Becky’s
great-aunt.”

“
Certainly, Mr.
Lockhart.”

She never called him
sir
. Aubrey didn’t
especially mind, not having much of a craving for subservience, but
he suspected her lack of sirs had devolved from her false opinion
of him as a cold-hearted son of a bitch, and he resented it. This
wasn’t the time to air family quarrels, however.

Although it cost him an internal
twinge, he smiled at Becky’s great-aunt. “Mrs. Bertrand
Bridgewater, please allow me to introduce you to Miss Callida
Prophet, Becky’s nanny. Miss Prophet has been with us for
approximately six weeks now.” He didn’t add that those six weeks
had been fraught with lectures, cat bites, household noise, and his
own personal squabbles with the nanny.

To Aubrey’s astonishment, Callie
dropped a curtsy. It was a good one, too, leading Aubrey to believe
that the woman had been taught pretty manners some time in her
past, even if she seldom exhibited them in his presence.

“
How do you do, Mrs.
Bridgewater?” Even Callie’s voice was civil.

Aubrey suppressed his amazement. He
turned to Bilgewater, wondering what the old bat would make of
Callie Prophet. Not much, from the look on her face.

“
You are this child’s
governess?” Mrs. Bridgewater raked Callie with a glance probably
meant to wound. Aubrey frowned.

“
I’m her nanny,” Callie
corrected her civilly.

“
You’re too young.” Old
Bilgewater brushed Callie away with one of her well-manicured
hands. She turned to Aubrey. “I don’t know what you mean, hiring a
mere child to care for Rebecca, Aubrey. It’s scandalous that so
young a lady should be living here in this house.”

Callie’s mouth dropped
open.

So did Aubrey’s, but only because a
fellow couldn’t talk with his mouth shut. “Miss Prophet,” he said
in a voice of steel, “is fully qualified to be Becky’s nanny.” He
was going to go on, explaining Callie’s educational qualifications,
but Callie took over.

“
I should say I
am.”

To Aubrey’s surprise, the nanny’s face
had drained of color. He’d have expected her color to deepen with
fury.

“
I have a degree from the
Brooklyn, New York, Teaching Seminary for Young Women—with
honors—and am fully qualified to teach school.”

Bilgewater remained unmoved. “Then why
aren’t you?”

“
Not,” Callie said—and
Aubrey detected a faint quiver, probably brought about by anger, in
her voice—“that it’s any of your business, Mrs. Bridgewater, but I
chose to live in Santa Angelica in order to remain near my family.
If I’d chosen to teach school, I would have had to move elsewhere,
and I didn’t want to.”

“
Huh. Well, you’re still too
young to have charge of Rebecca.” She turned back to Aubrey
dismissing Callie this time without so much as a flick of her hand.
“Aubrey, the child should come to live with me. I intend to take
her to San Francisco with me. In the city, she will have the best
of everything.”

Her great-aunt’s words had a galvanic
effect on little Becky. She cried out, “No!” and rushed to grasp
Callie’s hand. From that position, she gazed with horror from
Great-Aunt Evelyn to her father.

A pain spread through Aubrey’s chest.
He didn’t like it that Becky had run to Callie instead of to him.
And, although he’d been thinking only that morning about how Becky
needed the supervision of a woman, and that he wasn’t fit to rear
her alone, and, while he’d thought for weeks now that Callie
Prophet was too young to be in charge of his daughter, he flatly
rejected Bilgewater’s suggestion. Command, rather.

“
Thank you, Mrs.
Bridgewater, but Becky will be staying here. At home.” He was
relieved to see Becky relax slightly. She still didn’t leave her
nanny’s side for his, but at least she gave him a quavery
smile.

“
Pshaw,” Bilgewater huffed.
“You’re making a grave mistake, Aubrey. Anne would have wanted
Rebecca to have only the best,”

Before Aubrey could say a word, Becky
piped up. “But I already have the best. Miss Prophet’s the best.
Honest, she is, Great-Aunt Evelyn.”

“
Nonsense, child. She’s far
too young. And your manners certainly haven’t improved under her
care.” She frowned so fiercely at Becky that the little girl
snuggled more deeply into Callie’s skirts.

Aubrey didn’t intend to take any more
of that. “That’s enough! I won’t have you browbeating my daughter
or my staff, Aunt Evelyn. And speaking of manners, I think you
ought to work on your own before you complain about anyone else’s.
You have no business coming here and telling us how to live our
lives.”

It took Evelyn Bridgewater mere
seconds to draw in so much air that she seemed to grow larger and
to poof out, again reminding Aubrey of Monster. He presumed she
aimed to use all that air in denying his accusation and in
vilifying his morals and living situation some more, but an
interruption prevented her. Thank God.

“
Good morning, Mr. Lockhart.
I told Figgins he didn’t need to announce me, and I just—
Oh,”

Mark Henderson, Aubrey’s secretary
from San Francisco, stopped in the doorway of the drawing room, his
hat in his hand and his youthful face cheery. “I beg your pardon. I
had no idea you had company.” Mark, unlike Miss Prophet, could
blush up a storm at the drop of a hat, Aubrey noticed. Yet he was
glad for the interruption.

There was no telling how the scene
would degenerate if left to its own devices. “Come on in, Mark.
This isn’t a formal meeting.” With an effort, he smiled and went
over to shake the young man’s hand. “How did you get here so
quickly? It takes hours to get here from San Francisco, I didn’t
expect you until this afternoon.”

“
I drove to Santa Angelica
yesterday afternoon,” Mark said, recovering some of his composure.
“I spent the night at that quaint little hotel in the village. It’s
a charming place.”

Aubrey was proud of his restraint when
he didn’t so much as glance at Bilgewater to see how she liked
Mark’s commendation.

“
You ought to have stayed
here, Mark. We have plenty of room. Here, let me introduce
you.”

Still red of face, but with his
company manners firmly in place, Mark entered the room and smiled
at Becky. “How do you do, Miss Lockhart?” He took her tiny hand in
his and bowed over it.

“
Good morning, Mr.
Henderson,” Becky said and smiled back.

This had been a ritual with them ever
since Becky was big enough to walk. Aubrey smiled, enjoying the
scene before him. He turned to Miss Prophet to see how she was
taking in Mark’s theatrics and his smile suddenly faded. She was
giving Mark Henderson a look full of approval. She’d never once
looked at Aubrey that way.

Mark stood up from his bow and glanced
from Mrs. Bridgewater to Callie, where his gaze seemed to stick
fast. Aubrey saw him swallow and forged onward.

“
Mrs. Bridgewater, please
allow me to introduce you to my secretary and right-hand man, Mr.
Mark Henderson. Mark keeps the office in San Francisco operating on
an even keel. Mark, this is my late wife’s aunt Evelyn, Mrs.
Bertrand Bridgewater.”

With what looked like a struggle, Mark
managed to tear his gaze away from Becky’s nanny and focus it on
Great- Aunt Evelyn. He bowed formally. “Very pleased to meet you,
Mrs. Bridgewater,”

“
How do you do, young
man?”

“
And this,” Aubrey said,
although he didn’t want to, “is Miss Callida Prophet, Becky’s new
nanny.”

With less formality but a good deal
more sparkle, Mark bowed to Callie, keeping his gaze locked on her
the entire time. “Miss Prophet. A pleasure.”

“
How do you do?”

Callie returned his bow with another
perfectly executed curtsy. Aubrey noted, however, that she didn’t
seem to be as enthralled with him as he was with her, because she
almost immediately returned her attention to Old Bilgewater. To
Aubrey, it looked as if she’d like to take the woman up on her
criticisms about her own fitness to be Becky’s nanny and about
Santa Angelica and argue with her for the rest of the
afternoon.

Aubrey was about to intercede when
Mrs. Granger entered the room bearing a tray with bread-and-butter
sandwiches on it. Delilah followed her, carrying a tray laid out
with teacups and the best silver tea service. He breathed a sigh of
relief. He hadn’t much been looking forward to getting in between
these two headstrong ladies.

With totally feigned joviality, he
rubbed his hands together and beamed at the two servants. “Ah.
Good. Mrs. Bridgewater and Mark, please make yourselves
comfortable, and take some tea and sandwiches.”

He turned to Becky and Miss Prophet,
who still stood by, hand in hand. “Miss Prophet, perhaps you should
return to your outdoor-activities, Or, if you and Becky wish to
partake of refreshments, you might want to visit the soap and water
first.” He hoped Callie would be so offended she wouldn’t take him
up on the latter suggestion.

Since she stiffened all over like
Aubrey’s favorite pointer when eyeing a duck, he guessed she
wouldn’t. “Thank you, Mr. Lockhart. I don’t think we will join you
for refreshments. As you can see, we’re not dressed for
company.”

“
Yes. I did notice
that,”

He saw her bosom heave. He’d been
observing her bosom fairly often of late, although he was sure he
shouldn’t. But, dash it, she was a pretty woman, however ghastly
her personality, and he was a young man, even if he still grieved
over the loss of his wife.

“
Come along, Becky. You’d
better curtsy to your great-aunt first and ask to be
excused.”

From the tone of her voice, Aubrey
supposed she’d wanted to suggest that Becky chuck something at her
great-aunt first, and then at her father. He would have smiled,
except be didn’t want to give Bilgewater anything else to fuss
about.

Reluctantly, Becky released Callie’s
hand and walked over to her great-aunt. She gave another one of her
pretty little curtsies. “May I be excused, please,
ma’am?”

Old Bilgewater eyed her critically.
“Very well, Rebecca. At least your manners haven’t vanished
entirely. Yes, run along now. I’ll talk to your father more about
the subject under discussion later.”

Becky didn’t like hearing that. She
opened her mouth to protest, but Callie touched her shoulder
lightly, shook her head, and reached for Becky’s hand. Unhappy, but
understanding that it wasn’t a child’s place to question the adults
in her life, Becky accepted defeat and turned around. She wouldn’t
even have said good-bye to her papa if Callie hadn’t reminded
her.

Aubrey frowned after the two females
as they left the drawing room, unhappy with Becky’s defection. If
it was a defection.

Perhaps Old Bilgewater was right about
Becky. Maybe his daughter would be better off staying in San
Francisco with Bilgewater and her unpleasant husband. If Aubrey
sent her to live with them, she’d at least be glad to see her papa
when he made it into the city.