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An Unusual Bequest. Mary Nichols
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Автор произведения Mary Nichols
Издательство HarperCollins
The quiet industry of the classroom soothed her a little, but the worry at the back of her mind would not go away. She could not take advantage of the Rector’s generosity; it would not be fair to him and his elderly wife. And though she had no qualms about being able to run a school, the problem was financing it and finding pupils. She would have to try and borrow the money against future income. If Mr Hardacre was still at the hall when she returned, she would try to see him privately and broach the matter with him. Not for the first time she wondered how he was faring with Lord Hobart.
‘Miss.’ She felt someone tug at her skirts and looked down to see Danny White looking up at her, anxiety writ large on his face. ‘Meg wants to go home. She’s got the bellyache.’
She looked at the lad’s tiny sister, only a toddler, certainly not old enough for school, but if she had not been allowed to come neither would Danny and he was a bright child and deserved whatever education she could give him. Soon he would be able to join the select few who took more advanced lessons from the Rector himself. Meg was holding her stomach and crying. Charlotte scooped her up in her arms to comfort her. Her forehead was hot and she was obviously in some pain. What should she do? She could not let the child go home alone, not even if she sent Danny with her, and she was reluctant to leave her class when the Reverend was absent.
There was nothing for it but to take them all. ‘Enough of lessons,’ she said, suddenly making up her mind. ‘We’ll all take Meg home, shall we?’
The idea was greeted with enthusiasm and, having left a message with the Reverend Fuller’s wife, they set off, headed by Charlotte carrying Meg, Danny beside her and Lizzie and Fanny following with the others in a double file.
The strange crocodile was greeted by smiles from the village women they met, all of whom knew the good work Charlotte did, not only for the children, but the old and infirm. She brought food and clothes, but, more than that, she brought hope. ‘Mornin’, me lady,’ they called. Charlotte returned their greeting and went on her way, with the children singing ‘One man went to mow’ behind her.
The children waited outside while she took Meg into Dr Cartwright’s to ask him to check on her, fully accepting that the account for his services would be remitted to her, for the poor child’s parents could not pay. He felt all over her stomach. ‘What have you been eating?’ he asked her.
‘Nuffin’.’
‘Yes, you have. You’ve been stuffing yourself with something bad, haven’t you?’
‘It were beans,’ Danny put in. Charlotte had not realised he had followed them in. ‘I told her she shouldn’t have.’
‘Beans, what beans?’
‘In the bag in Farmer Brown’s barn.’
‘Seeds,’ the doctor said. ‘Not meant to be eaten. They are for setting in the ground. You’re old enough to know that, Danny, aren’t you?’
‘Course I am. Weren’t my fault. She’d downed a handful afore I saw what her were adoin’.’
‘I thought you were supposed to be looking out for her?’ the doctor demanded waspishly.
Danny looked as though he were about to burst into tears.
‘Don’t blame him, Doctor,’ Charlotte said. ‘You can’t watch children every minute of the day and he’s only a babe himself. Tell me, how serious is it?’
‘Not serious. I’ll give her a dose to help it on its way. She’ll be as right as rain tomorrow.’
Relieved, Charlotte watched while he held the child’s nose and forced a spoonful of foul-tasting medicine down her throat, then they rejoined the other children and were soon at the door of the cottage where Danny and Meg lived. It was no more than a hovel; the pigs up at the hall lived in better conditions, and they even smelled sweeter, but Charlotte pretended not to notice as she explained to Mrs White why she had brought her children home.
‘I’m sorry you’ve been troubled,’ the woman said, taking the child from Charlotte’s arms. Then, to Danny, ‘See what you’ve done, you great lump. That’s what all that book learnin’ does for ye, makes ye forget what ye’re supposed to be adoin’. Yar pa will dust yar breeks when he come home.’
Charlotte was forced to be mediator; she didn’t want Danny forbidden to come to lessons again. Having soothed ruffled feelings, she returned to the remainder of her flock. It was then she saw the stranger again, standing outside the smithy, watching her with the same look of amusement that had so disconcerted her two days before.
Stacey wandered over to where she stood and swept off his hat. ‘We meet again, ma’am.’
When the blacksmith had taken longer to see to his horse than expected, he had not minded, had even welcomed another night in the village, wondering if he might meet the schoolmistress again. Whiling away the time, he had found Easterley Manor, but had not ventured up the drive. His walk had taken him round the surrounding wall, and along the path to the cliff where he had seen her the day before, but the beach had been deserted except for a couple of men walking along the water’s edge. They were not fishermen, being wrapped in cloaks against the wind, but then he had forgotten them to return to the village to see if his horse was ready. And here she was, followed by her little urchins, chanting a song. He was reminded of a German fairy story about a piper who lured children from their parents because they reneged on the payment they promised him for ridding their town of its rats. It made him smile.
Charlotte, who had no idea why he was smiling, felt herself blush from the roots of her rich brown hair right down to her neck, aware of the children giggling behind her. ‘Good afternoon, sir,’ she said, drawing her cloak more closely about her, a defensive gesture that added to his amusement. ‘I am surprised to find you still in the neighbourhood. Parson’s End has little to offer visitors.’
‘On the contrary, I am finding my stay vastly rewarding.’ His eyes twinkled again as he took in the rosy flush and the smoky blue-green eyes. She was not a seventeen-year-old débutante, but a woman of mature years with a couple of daughters, but she seemed discomforted. ‘You are still giving outdoor lessons, I see.’
‘I had to bring one of the children home, she was not well, and I could not leave the others.’ She gave him a smile, just to prove she was in control of the situation. ‘They would have caused mayhem left to themselves.’
‘Ah, so they do find mischief. And here was I thinking you had them so well under control they would not dare misbehave whether you were present or not.’
‘Sir, you are bamming me. Again. And we have not been introduced.’
‘Oh, I see you did not mean it when you denigrated the manners of polite society. Introductions are important to you. You must not speak to a man to whom you have not been introduced. But if we had been made known to each other by a third party, then one presumes it would be acceptable to tease?’
‘Your own good manners should tell you the answer to that one.’
‘So I am to be given a lesson in manners, am I?’
‘If you think you need one.’ She was heartily sick of self-opinionated men who thought they could treat her with disdain. Cecil Hobart and his cronies had begun it, and now this man, this very superior man whose name she did not know, was doing the same. Perhaps he was one of them, perhaps that was why he was in the village, a forerunner of the congenial company that Mr Augustus Spike had asked Cecil to send for. ‘Now, if you will stand aside and let me pass, I will be on my way.’
‘Back to your school?’
‘Is that any of your business?’ She swept past him, ushering the children before her.