The Proposal (12 page)

“So what do you think, Palmer?” Lydia asked the question she’d been wanting to ask since her brother arrived.

“I think he’s utterly lost. I mean, he always has been, but this time it’s obvious even to him. He was so certain that if he could have offspring under his own terms, life would be perfect.” Palmer chuckled a little. “It’s almost amusing to watch him learn otherwise.”

Lydia shook her head in wry agreement. “I want them to stay. I want it very much.”

“As do I, but we’ll have to wait and see. We can’t have Jennings upsetting our own household in his attempt to find himself and his parenting skills.”

“Yes, Palmer, but will Thomas, James, and Penny survive the process?”

“I think they’re stronger than we give them credit for. There’s a peace in the boys that tells me someone has been teaching them the Way.”

“I sense it too. I hope they get on with our children. It could so help during this painful time.”

“When are they due back?”

“They were going to lunch at Blackburn Manor, so probably midafternoon.”

“Good. They’ll all have the rest of the day to get acquainted, and we’ll keep the next few days uneventful.”

Lydia nodded, pleased that her husband had a plan. It was on the tip of her tongue to admit to him that she wanted to keep the children for her own, but she kept quiet. God had a plan in place, and right now it included Jennings. If the need ever arose for those children to become her own, she wouldn’t need to tell anyone how she felt—it would be written all over her face.

“Frank!” his mother said with some surprise when she looked up from her writing desk about an hour later to find her oldest child in the doorway. “I didn’t realize you’d returned.” Even as she said this, she knew something was amiss. “What is it, Frank?” she asked as she stood. “You look upset.”

“We tried to get Marianne to stay home, but she insisted on bringing us back.”

“Why would you want her to remain at home?”

“We were playing ball in the yard, and she got hit in the eye.”

“Oh, no. Where is she?”

“In the carriage if you wish to see her.”

Lydia very much wanted to see her. She followed Frank’s progress back outside and found her other three children crowded around the door of the carriage, laughing and smiling.

“Here, children,” Lydia said firmly, “let me past.”

Lydia stuck her head in the coach to find a smiling Marianne.

“Hello, Liddy.”

“Marianne! What have you done?” Lydia said, not able to hold her laugh. The older woman’s friend had a black eye that looked as if it had been painted on. A perfect curve had appeared beneath her left eye, giving her a rather roguish look.

“Aren’t I a sight?”

“Please tell me my children had nothing to do with this.”

“Oh, come now, Liddy, we were playing, that’s all.”

Lydia sighed and smiled. “Will you come in?”

“No!” Marianne looked horrified at the thought. “I’m taking myself home to seclusion until I look presentable again, but I knew if the children only told you and you didn’t see me, you would think it worse than it was.”

“You’re probably right. I’ll come and see you soon, shall I?”

“Please do.”

Lydia leaned a little closer into the carriage and lowered her voice.

“Before you go, I’ve got to tell you that my brother is here.”

“Jennings?” Marianne said in amazement.

“Yes. I’m dying to tell you all about it, but it will have to wait.”

“All right. Come soon, however. I want to hear.”

“I will. How were the children?”

“Wonderful as always. A little mud here and there, but we had a smashing time.”

“Good. Give me a hug and get yourself home.”

The five Palmers waved Marianne’s carriage off, and before they could even turn to the house, Palmer joined them.

“Did Mari not want to come in?” he asked.

“No, she had a blackened eye and is headed home to seclude herself.”

“Do you children have anything to tell us?”

“It was all quite innocent, Father,” Frank put in, not afraid to admit the truth even though their friend was harmed. “Marianne turned to say something to Lizzy just as Walt threw the ball back to her.”

Palmer looked down at his younger son’s face. He looked sober and sad.

“So you’re the culprit, Walt?”

“Yes, sir. And her eye blackened so swiftly, almost as we watched.”

Palmer put a hand on his shoulder.

“It’s like that sometimes. You spoke with her, Lydia?”

“Yes, and she’s very well. She plans to stay away from the public eye for now, but she is in great spirits.”

“All right. You’ll have to call on her, Liddy.”

“Yes. She asked me to.”

“And in the midst of all this, I don’t suppose you were able to tell the children our news.”

“No, I wasn’t.”

Knowing better than to ask, the children looked to their father expectantly.

“Your Uncle Jennings has arrived, and with him are your three cousins.”

“From Mother’s side?” Frank asked, knowing how thin the Jennings’ family line had become.

“Yes. They’re distant relations, but still your cousins, and your ages into the bargain.”

“Are there girls?” Emma asked, her hand tugging on her father’s coat.

“One little girl. Her name is Penny, and she’s soon to be seven.”

The little girls exchanged smiles of excitement.

“And the boys?” Walt asked.

“Thomas is onto thirteen very soon, and James will be eleven.”

“They all share a birthday,” Lydia put in, still amazed by this.

“They were all born the same day?” Frank clarified.

“Yes, twenty-one July.”

“We should have a great party.”

“I think so too.”

“When can we meet them?” Walt wished to know.

“They’re on an outing with your Uncle Jennings, so as soon as they return.”

The family at last made their way inside, the children still full of questions about the new family members.

“We don’t know a lot,” Palmer finally settled them down enough to say. They had gone into the green salon, a place where they spent many contented evenings. “I believe that their mother has been gone for some time, but they just recently lost their father.”

“And now they live with Uncle Jennings?” Frank asked.

“Yes.”

“I remember him,” Walt put in.

“Do you, Walt? What do you recall?”

“That he’s tall with dark hair.”

“That’s right. There’s a little gray at his temples now, but that about describes him.”

“How long will they stay?” Emma wished to know. Having another little girl her age right in the house was as good as visiting at Blackburn Manor when Marianne’s sisters were there, with all their children.

“We’re not sure. They have chosen to be in one room— the big one across from you, Walt—and I can tell you they are fine-mannered, sweet children who have been through a painful ordeal.”

“Anything you can do to make their stay pleasant would be very helpful,” Lydia added.

“But could they stay a long time?” Emma pressed.

“They might. We might even get to see them in London.”

This was met with rave reviews, and in the midst of this babble, Jennings’ voice was heard at the door.

“It looks as though we’re in time for introductions,” he said with more calm than he felt. These were his own nieces and nephews, handsome children that he should have known very well, but they were like strangers.

“Come in, Jennings,” Palmer invited, and in a matter of moments, the introductions were made; first, the children to their uncle and then to their new cousins.

Palmer and Lydia’s children waited only for Jennings to make a remark to Palmer, which they saw as a sign to speak with their cousins. In a matter of minutes, all seven children were grouped off and talking. Thomas and Frank even went so far as to ask to be excused so Frank could show this new member of the family the atlas in the library. Walt and James had their heads together over the pocket globe that Jennings had given the boys, and all three little girls had dolls out on the window seat, teacups and all.

“You certainly had this one pegged, didn’t you, Palmer?” Jennings said quietly.

“About the children getting on? Yes, I suspected as much.”

“You have fine children, Lydia,” Jennings felt a need to tell his sister.

“Thank you, Jennings. Walt was saying that he remembers you. He even described you.”

Jennings fell quiet. He certainly remembered Walt and young Frank, and it was still painful to think of all he had missed. His eyes went to the window seat, and he smiled at the three little girls who had taken no time at all becoming friends.

“Do tell us you’ll stay, Jennings,” Lydia put in, knowing she should probably keep her mouth shut but just not wanting to.

Jennings looked to her.

“I’ll have some business to attend to concerning Godwin’s estate, and I can’t be away from home forever, Lydia, but I will tell you this, I’ll not go as I did before.”

Lydia’s relief was so great that she turned slightly to blink tears away. When that didn’t work, she stood and rang for tea. Anything to get her mind from the wonderful news so she wouldn’t sob all over the room.

Jennings, more pleased than he would have imagined at being there, understood just how she felt. If he’d been forced to sum up his feelings of the moment, he would have said that leaving was the last thing on his mind.

Chapter Seven

“Are they all right?” Jennings asked the moment Lydia slipped into the hallway.

“They’re fine. Go in and wish them a good night.”

Jennings looked momentarily nonplussed before nodding slightly and reaching for the door handle. He entered the quiet, dark room and realized he didn’t know who occupied which bed.

“Are you sleeping?” he asked quietly from his place just inside the door.

Both James and Thomas told him no.

“Who’s in this bed?” he asked as he moved to the foot of one.

“It’s me,” Penny said, her voice very small.

“Are you comfortable, Penny?”

“Yes.”

“Are you warm enough?”

“Yes.”

“Do you have Mr Pat with you?”

Jennings heard the bedcovers rustling.

“Right here.”

“Good. You’ll sleep fine now. Where are you, James?”

“Here, sir.”

Jennings went toward the voice.

“Are you all settled for the night?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. Did you have a good time with Walt?”

“Yes, sir. He has his own horse.”

“I heard about that. Did you go to see it?”

“Yes, sir, we did.” He sounded awed, and Jennings smiled.

“I’m glad.”

Jennings then moved to the other side of the bed. “You must be over here, Thomas.”

“Yes, sir. May I ask you a question, sir?”

“You certainly may, Thomas,” Jennings said, and went so far as to sit on the edge of Thomas’ side of the bed.

“Are we staying for a time, Mr Jennings?”

“What would you like us to do? Would you like to stay?”

“We would, yes.” Thomas sounded calm and grown up, but in truth he knew great relief at being able to answer this question. For the first time since their father died, he felt safe—truly safe. He was in no hurry to leave this home that seemed the ideal of every dream he’d ever had. He would give much to turn back the hands of time and have his father return, but their home had not had a mother, and Lydia Palmer was one of the kindest women he’d ever met.

“Well, we shall be here for a time, Thomas, so I’m glad it suits you. I take it you had a good time getting to know Frank?”

“Yes, a very fine time.”

“I’m glad,” Jennings said as he stood. “Sleep well, all of you. I’ll see you in the morning.”

Soft “goodnights” came from the three of them, and when Jennings found himself back in the hall, he simply stood for a time. Feelings that were foreign and almost frightening washed over him. Was it possible to become so attached so quickly? It took knowing that Penny had been hurt for his feelings to turn toward her, but already his heart was completely involved with all three children.

The temptation to go back inside and check on them one last time was strong, but he fought it.
Palmer and Lydia seem to enjoy their children but still have a life of their own,
Jennings thought to himself as he finally moved down the hallway. He continued to ponder this as he walked downstairs to join them for the remainder of the evening.