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Nan turned to look at Jane. Had she really no idea of the role she must play? “I am sure he insists because it’s your duty. Just as I have my duty to my store, and he has his duty to your home, you must see that you must at least try to meet an eligible young man and marry well.”
Jane’s face fell. “Now you sound just like him. I thought you would be on my side.” She turned away, her shoulders slumping.
Nan shook her head. For one thing, that stiff black bombazine that Jane wore was simply not made for her movements. She needed softer fabric, something that would move gracefully with her. Small wonder she felt uncomfortable all the time. For another thing, and on a completely different note, she needed a friend. John Reed was insufferable enough as a passing acquaintance. What a horror he must be as a brother.
Of course Jane must make her debut, as any young woman of her station in life should. In fact, if circumstances had been different, and had Uncle Arthur not run through her parents’ fortune like water, it was likely Nan would have seen Jane socially in London. However, that was neither here nor there. Her duty was to help Jane feel more comfortable with her debut. If Jane could do so in clothes that suited her, with the help of someone she trusted, she would have a much higher chance of success than if she was to go through it alone, with no one but her brother helping.
Nan laid a careful hand on Jane’s shoulder, reminding herself to be patient. She had a tendency to blurt out the hard truths of life at the most inopportune time, and it never went well. Susannah and Becky would agree most heartily to that, if they were standing here right now.
“I daresay a London ballroom won’t be half as frightening if you are dressed in a gown that suits you. We all feel much better when we are well dressed. I may have forced myself to love plain hats and bonnets for my business to survive, but that doesn’t mean I have shunned the fancier stuff forever.”
Jane gasped and whirled around. “Does this mean you will come with me?”
“I still don’t know how to make it happen, but I will find a way.” Now it was Nan’s turn to gasp as Jane threw her arms around her, laughing. She hadn’t embraced one of her sisters in ages. Since they married and had families of their own, her sisters simply didn’t have the time or feel the need to embrace that much anymore. She missed it. Until now, she had no idea how much she really grieved the loss of her sisters, with a deep-down ache that brought hot tears to her eyes.
Giving in to the desire to cry would serve no purpose now. She must squash her hurt and wait until later tonight, when she could sob silently into her pillow.
“Now, now. That’s quite enough.” Nan took a step back, assuming the brisk practicality that had served her so well thus far. “I suppose I need to talk to your brother. Where is he this morning?”
* * *
I really am trying to concentrate. Look at me, the very picture of a gentleman of means. John forced himself to stare at the ledger book as Paul trailed his quill along page after page of spidery handwriting. It was the dullest thing he could think to do on a day with such fine weather, but it would be very rude to tell Paul so. After all, his friend was taking valuable time away from his lovely wife and family to school him in the proper manner of estate management.
“So you see, with just one small change to the way in which we harvested the grain, we ended up saving a large percentage of the crop. Enough, in fact, to net a tidy little profit.” Paul grinned and bent closer over the page, as though he could gobble the figures up to make a satisfying meal.
John glanced down at his boots. They were really of an excellent cut. He’d have to order another pair just like them from the boot-maker, for when these needed a rest or a cleaning.
“How do you reap your grain?” Paul glanced up sharply from the ledger book.
“I haven’t the foggiest, old man.” John stifled a yawn.
“It’s your duty to know.” Paul slammed the ledger book shut. “Who is your estate manager? Crowell?”
“No, Crowell passed away years ago. Father hired a new man to take his place.” John searched his mind for the fellow’s name. “Weatherford? Whetstone? Bother me, it starts with a W. That’s all I know.” If Paul would hurry up, they’d have time for a ride this afternoon before dinner. This latest lesson was taking forever to end.
“If you want my advice—and after all, you came all this way here for me to offer it—then you will return to Grant Park and have a meeting with this Mr. W. Talk to him. Get a feeling for how the harvests are managed. If he has any suggestions for improvements or changes, do listen to him and think the matter over. Estate managers can be vastly acute. Just look at the changes Daniel has wrought at Goodwin Hall, now that he is listening to his man.”
John nodded. If he continued looking the part of an interested pupil, perhaps Paul would act less like a stern schoolmaster and would just let him go. A quick canter would be just the thing in this fine weather.
“John,” Paul began in the tone that usually indicated a lecture was at hand, “this really is yours to care for now. Grant Park is a vast estate, and it’s imperative that you run it in a manner that will do your family credit. Had you no sense that it would become your responsibility some day?”
“I thought Father would live forever.” A flippant statement, perhaps, but a true one. He had never given any thought to the fact that, one day, Father would die and leave him responsible for managing his family’s wealth.
“And now that your father has proven himself mortal, where does that leave you?”
John shrugged. “Prevailing upon my friends with better common sense than I possess.”
The door to the study banged open and Nan Siddons whirled in, her cheeks a rosy pink and her eyes bright. John rose, a nervous rush of energy sweeping through him. Nan had proven herself a good sort last night, when he had stumbled into what her family had considered a marriage proposal when it had, in fact, merely been an offer of employment.
It couldn’t have been an easy predicament—indeed, he was still a trifle embarrassed when he remembered it himself—but she handled it with grace and aplomb. Her poise had convinced him that she could be an excellent guide for his sister as she made her debut. Surely Jane could weather any ballroom disaster in London with Nan instructing her surreptitiously.
“Pardon the interruption,” she managed, looking less like her usual practical self than he could have imagined. Her bonnet was dangling down her back by its ribbons, and several tawny locks of hair had escaped her braided coronet. Her breathless disarray, coupled with her flushed cheeks and starry blue eyes, made Nan Siddons look downright pretty.
“We were just finishing up,” he replied, looking over his shoulder at Paul. Paul stood, his expression one of bafflement. John could well hear his friend’s thoughts. Should he stay and play chaperone? Or give them both some peace so that they could discuss a business proposition in private?
“I’ll go...and leave the door open.” Paul nodded at John, the etiquette problem resolved, as he left the room.
John waited until Paul rounded the corner, his tall form passing out of sight. Then he turned to Nan. “You look like someone who’s made a momentous decision.”
“I suppose I have.” She smoothed her hair with hands that trembled visibly. “I don’t know how to make it happen, but I think I would like to have a go at being Jane’s dressmaker.”
A feeling of relief and excitement poured through him. “Good. I was hoping you would.” Then he paused. What did she mean about making it happen? It was a simple enough matter, surely. “All we need to do is make arrangements for you to accompany us to Grant Park.”
“I also need to make certain my sisters agree that this is the right course of action for me to take.” She looked pointedly at the settee. “May I sit down? My feet ache terribly. I ran almost the entire way here.”
“Of course.” His manners had fled the moment she arrived. Then again, this wasn’t really his house, so who was he to offer guests a seat? Would a gentleman offer anyway, even if he was the one visiting, and the lady was related to the head of the house? He would never wrap his head around etiquette. It was a very good thing that Nan was agreeing to help Jane. He was such a dolt, he’d never make heads or tails of any situation.
Nan sat on the settee, arranging her skirts around her, glancing up at him with an expectant look on her face. “Please, sit, sir. I cannot continue with you standing, as though you might bolt from the room at any moment.”
“My apologies.” He pulled a spindly wooden chair up so that he could sit opposite her. “I know we can convince your sisters. Have no fear.”
The corners of her mouth quirked. “You’ve not spent much time in my sisters’ company. They are not as easily persuaded as you seem to think. That’s not the only thing that makes me hesitate, however.” She waved her hand as though brushing the matter of her stubborn sisters aside. “There is also the matter of my shop. I don’t see how I can continue running it efficiently if I am to be staying with Miss Jane in Grant Park.”
He smiled with relief. Was that all she was concerned about? That silly little shop of hers? “Oh, I am certain I can pay you more than that tiny place can make in a year.”
Nan’s posture grew rigid and her expression hardened, making her look more like a spinster than he had ever seen her. “Do you really think so?” Her words, though perfectly polite, were an icy challenge.
He leaned back in his chair, studying Miss Nan Siddons from the top of her braided coronet to the tips of her slippers peeking out beneath her skirts. She was a bit of an enigma. Talented, to be sure, and far too intelligent to stay hidden away in a country hat shop, toiling away for years and years on the same ugly old bonnets. She was spirited beneath the mask of stolid composure she always wore, and she hated being teased.
He knew for a fact she couldn’t bear to be made fun of, and that thought attracted him at this moment more than anything. Nan Siddons could be jolly good company if she let herself go just a bit, and the only way he could force her to relinquish some of her prim airs was to tease her quite hard. He glanced over at the doorway. No sisters, either his own or hers, were present to interfere or tell him to stop.
“I do think so,” he responded, a slow grin spreading across his face. “In fact, I know so. Why, if I paid you to create one gown for Jane, you’d get a bigger profit than you have these few months, I think. Why else would you have come running after my sister and me, trying to snag us as customers, if you weren’t desperate for cash?”
Nan’s steady gaze faltered, and as she stared at the floor, her shoulders sagged just a trifle. Why wouldn’t she speak up? He wanted a spirited debate with her.
“I don’t see why you need to consult with your sisters, either,” he continued, leaning closer in toward her. “After all, you had quite a bit of trouble getting them to care about your shop last night. Why do you persist in asking for their permission?” Nan seemed a decisive enough person. Why did she persist in asking her sisters for consent, as though she was a child? It was so strangely out of step with the rest of her straightforward, efficient behavior. Her candor was one of her most appealing characteristics. Why hide it?
“Because...” she trailed off, shaking her head. “I don’t know. I suppose I feel I must.”
“Aren’t you your own woman?” He raised his voice a little in challenge. She needed to let go of this ridiculous notion that she must ask blessings of her sisters. She needed to drop that mask of practicality and deference, and revert to her usual frankness. If she did, then he would see that feisty side of her that he enjoyed so much. “You’ve run your own business for long enough, I daresay, to determine whether or not you can do as you choose with your life.”
“I don’t know...” The expression on Nan’s face walked a fine line between anger and triumph. She was rising to his bait, and at any moment, she would agree to his challenge.
Life would not be dull at Grant Park if he could spar with Nan Siddons. Why, he might be able to submit to the yoke of being master if he could look forward to a few moments of skirmishing with her a little every day.
He would try a bit of a different tactic. “Of course, if you’re scared—”
“I’m not afraid,” Nan snapped, and she rose from the settee. She began pacing, her slippered feet making no sound on the rich Oriental carpet. “If I could only make you understand. My sisters and I have always been quite close. The shop was Susannah’s and she left it to us. It’s been our hope of independence all these years.”
“Times change.” He rose, too. Why was she holding back? “Your sisters don’t need the shop anymore. You won’t either, if you have any sense. Do you really want to be chained to a dingy little shop for the rest of your life, making ugly old bonnets for tired old women—”
Nan spun around on one heel and slapped him, hard, across the face. “They aren’t ugly!”
As he touched his burning cheek, Nan fell back a step, breathing rapidly. “Oh, forgive me. I am so sorry. I should never have struck you. I just couldn’t bear to hear the shop spoken of that way.”
He had pushed too far, teasing her more than she deserved. In his haste to help her declare her independence, he had reached Nan’s limit. “No, don’t apologize. I shouldn’t have said that. Jane says I am too harsh.” He eyed her carefully, rubbing his sore cheek. “Do you still want to work for me? I should say, for my sister?”
She closed her eyes for a moment, as though gathering strength. Finally, she looked up at him as though really seeing him for the first time.
“Yes.”
Chapter Four (#ulink_b0f89171-048e-5ee0-8521-288e217888d3)
Nan trudged up the pathway that led to Kellridge, her valise banging against her hip with each step. The Reeds had offered to pick her up at the shop in the carriage, but somehow, she could not accept their kind offer. For a journey of this magnitude, she must put one foot in front of the other. Striking out on her own was just the way to start this new phase of her life.
To some, it might seem as though she was merely walking to Kellridge, where she would meet the Reeds and ride off with them to their country home. But this meant so much more. Meeting them and leaving Tansley from the shop would seem too hasty, abrupt even. This walk provided distance. Though she had spent the past fortnight working to put the shop in order, thereby allowing it to hum along smoothly in her absence, there was still a tug at her heart as she closed the shop door behind her.
She would be home to check on things in another fortnight, before returning to the Reeds’ home.
She must remind herself of this fact. This was not the end of her life in Tansley. She would be back soon, but it just wouldn’t be the same.
Life would never be the same again.
She inhaled deeply, breathing in the brisk spring air. Winter was leaving for certain, and yet there was still an icy, keen edge to the wind. This was a perfect time of the year for new beginnings, if one believed in poetic comparisons. She was striking out on her own as cautiously and yet as willingly as a sprout pushing its way up from the earth.
Nan stifled an internal groan. She was becoming as ridiculously poetic as Becky.
As she picked her way down a particularly rocky vale, her foot slipped on a rock. She tripped and slid down the last bit of valley, nearly losing her valise along with her footing. She skidded to a stop and tugged at her dress and cloak. She must have looked so ridiculous. What a way to begin her new attempted independence. Falling down was inefficient when one was hoping to land firmly on one’s feet.
“Nan! Are you quite all right?” Jane’s voice echoed in the valley. Nan glanced around and caught sight of her friend making her way down a steep path, one that led to some of the smaller, nearby farms. “I thought for certain you were going to fall.”
“So did I,” Nan replied with a smile. She picked her way over to Jane’s side, taking care to keep from sliding down atop an avalanche of pebbles. “What are you doing out here? I thought you would be at Kellridge, making last-minute preparations and saying your goodbyes.”
“No. I—I had a few friends I wanted to say farewell to before we left.” The color rose in Jane’s cheeks until it reached her hair.
Nan paused in her rush to start her life anew. Why was Jane so embarrassed?
She took a closer, more practiced look at her friend. Why had Jane taken her violin with her on a social call?
“I see,” she said softly. “You’ve only been here a few weeks. I am glad to hear you’ve made good friends, even in that short of an amount of time. Is it difficult to leave Kellridge?”
“I find it hard to leave.” Jane’s dark eyes flashed and she pursed her lips. “I haven’t met any families as congenial as those here in Tansley. I am sure the questionable delights of London will pale in comparison.”
Nan smiled, even as she was heartily confused by Jane’s vehemence. What families had Jane visited? Hadn’t she been here mere weeks—a very short time to form such a strong connection to someone? There was no one nearby except for a few families who resided on small farms on the outskirts of the village. She had made bonnets for the women of these houses for a while now, but she didn’t recall any of them as being particularly pleasant.
“Well, I am glad to see you found friends who share your taste in music,” Nan replied, for wont of something more intelligent to say.
Jane threaded her arm through Nan’s and began guiding them through the valley path toward Kellridge. She had a remarkably good grasp of the terrain, almost as though this rocky little valley was familiar to her. Nan had lived in Tansley for years, traversing this path often on her way to Kellridge from the shop, and she was far from being as nimble as Jane.
“Hmm.” Jane murmured in a distracted fashion.
They fell silent for a few moments as Jane led them over the side of the hill and up to the plateau that stretched toward Kellridge. Nan caught her breath as she looked at the large stone manor house. What a lovely place it was, and how fortunate Becky was to be mistress of all that grandeur. Becky’s place in life was now secure, and she could do as she pleased. She had a husband who adored her, a baby on the way, a stepniece who thought of her as a mother and a grand home filled with servants.
It was difficult indeed to swallow the bitterness rising in her throat.
Never mind. Once she was secure in her own right, she could afford to be happy for her sister. For now, and only to herself, she thought it a terrible injustice that she should be so shut out of the loveliness and happiness life had to offer.
As they paused for a moment on the brink of the plateau, Jane snapped out of her reverie. “Nan, do you know the Holdcroft family?”
Nan stuffed her jealousy back down deep inside. “Yes, I believe so. Mrs. Hugh Holdcroft is a customer of mine. I delivered a new spring bonnet to her just recently.”
“Remarkable people, the Holdcrofts. Very old English family.” Jane turned to her, giving a sweet, and slightly sad, smile. “Of course, they don’t have the wealth they used to command. They are farmers now, even though in previous generations they were quite well-to-do.”
“Unfortunately, that happens often in families.” Nan shrugged. “My sisters and I were wealthy until my uncle Arthur spent all of our money. Well, that’s not true. He didn’t spend it as much as he lost it at the gaming tables.”
Jane gasped. “How horrible! Were you able to save anything?”
“My sister had enough money left to purchase the shop in the village, but since then we have supported ourselves.” It was difficult not to sound boastful, but what the Siddonses had accomplished with such limited means was worthy of pride. “Poverty is nothing to be ashamed of. In fact, I think people should be more concerned with how they treat others, especially those they consider beneath themselves, than about the balance on their ledger books.”
“That is brilliantly put.” Jane clapped her hands. “I must say I agree with you. The Holdcrofts are quite an amazing family. I wish you knew them better.”
“I do, too,” Nan replied, but her mind was focused more upon leaving Tansley than on getting to know the other villagers better. Funny, though she and Jane walked side by side and even arm in arm, they seemed to be on completely different paths. While she was ready to push forward, toward Kellridge and her new future, Jane was lingering on the past and on the friends she’d made in Tansley. “Come, let us hurry. If we don’t arrive at Kellridge on time, I am sure to endure a scolding from Susy. She is quite a stickler for punctuality.”
Jane nodded in agreement, and the two of them quickened their steps, arriving at the front portico out of breath and red-faced. The butler showed them in with a bemused glance at their windblown locks and pinkened cheeks.
As Nan entered the drawing room, a tingling feeling shot up her spine. John must be here. She glanced around casually and spotted him in the corner, speaking with Paul and Daniel. She dropped her gaze again. She’d managed to avoid John almost completely since slapping him a few weeks ago. All of her arrangements had been made with Jane, for after all, she was going for Jane’s benefit.
“About time you two arrived,” Susannah scolded from her place on the settee. “I was beginning to worry about both of you.”
Nan kissed her sister’s cheek. How nice it would be to be on her own, and once in a while, be late if she had the inclination or the need. “Our apologies. I nearly fell headfirst down a valley. Fortunately, Jane rescued me.”
Neither sister seemed particularly concerned with her brush with death. They merely greeted Jane and then turned assessing eyes toward her.
Becky patted the settee cushion beside her. “Come, sit.”
Nan obediently sat, while Jane walked across the room to chat with her brother.
Nan fiddled with the banding on her sleeve. She was now imprisoned between her two sisters, one of whom had grown quite large during her pregnancy. She had to sit with her elbows pinned against her sides to avoid hitting either of them.
“Now, before you leave, we both have some advice for you,” Susannah began in the tone of voice that usually indicated a lecture was at hand.
Nan stifled a groan and flicked a glance over at her traveling companions. Jane and John were both laughing, and Paul and Daniel seemed to be caught up in telling a lively story. Everyone seemed to be enjoying each other’s company immensely, and none of them made a move to leave.
“Now, when you are employed by someone outside of our family, you must remember to temper your blunt ways,” Susannah admonished. “Many’s the time that you’ve hurt our feelings with your plain talk. Remember that another employer—a stranger, to be perfectly frank—might not be so understanding or forgiving.”
“I wouldn’t say the Reeds are strangers—” Nan began.
“Well, they aren’t well-known to us. Not like Paul was, when Becky began working for him.” Susannah gave an irritated twitch of her shoulders. “So heed what I say, Nan. Please temper your words.”
