in my life, Lord, everything seems hopeless.” The moor didn’t care if she prayed aloud. Saying the words was strangely calming. If she couldn’t be married and have a home of her own, she would have to find fulfillment in work. If the methods of her work were being proscribed, well, then it felt as though the walls were closing in on her.
She continued to mull over those thoughts, and breathed lungful after lungful of fresh air. Already the blond stone walls of Goodwin Hall loomed on the horizon. Goodwin meant Susannah, and Susannah meant wise counsel.
Yes, Susannah would surely see her side of the matter. Why had she taken this long to see her sister? She’d pinned all her hopes on a proposal from Lieutenant Walker, that’s why. No need to raise a fuss when she had been so certain that she would marry and leave the shop. Well, that wasn’t happening, and she needed to make the best of her situation. The blank horror of the lieutenant’s desertion still held her in its grasp.
In time she would grieve over her dead romance. Now she must think of her future. If she wasn’t to be anyone’s bride, she should at least be allowed a say in her own business.
She gathered her skirts and mounted the wide, gracious steps of the hall. No sooner had she set foot on the second step than the door opened, and Baxter stood, waiting with a patient and solemn air.
“Miss Rebecca. No one told me you were coming.” The butler, no doubt accustomed now to the clockwork precision Susannah had imposed on the manor house, frowned. “But you are welcome all the same. Mrs. Hale is in the library.”
“Don’t fret, Baxter,” she reassured him as she strolled into the vestibule. “This is an impromptu call.” She removed her bonnet, intending to hang it on a peg; but with consummate skill, Baxter slipped it out of her grasp and placed it on the nearby mahogany table.
“Yes, Miss Rebecca. Mr. Holmes is visiting as well. They are having tea. I’ll bring another setting for you.” With a wave of his hand, Baxter shooed her down the hallway toward the library.
Paul Holmes? Becky slowed to a halt before the library door. If Paul was here, had he told them about meeting her on the moor yesterday? How was she supposed to speak with Susannah about the shop if they had company? Oh, this was just like her, to meet him here again. She grasped a tendril of hair that slipped loose from her chignon and twirled it.
Where was the courage that stiffened her spine yesterday? She’d had no qualms about defending herself to Paul then. Circumstances were different, though. Confronting Paul, Susannah and Daniel all at once was, well, akin to bearding a lion in its den.
Becky took a deep, steadying breath and deftly unwound her finger from her hair. Then she pushed open the door.
Daniel and Paul rose as she entered the room, and Susannah turned in her chair. “Becky, my dear, we weren’t expecting you. Not that you aren’t welcome, of course.” Susannah kissed her cheek as Becky leaned down, and then Susannah glanced over her shoulder. “Where’s Nan?”
“At the shop.” Becky settled across from her sister, nodding her hellos to Daniel and Paul. Paul caught her glance and held it so long that heat began rising in her cheeks. She averted her gaze and turned a fraction to the right in her chair so he could only see her in profile. There. It was altogether uncomfortable to be stared at. He needn’t be so fresh.
Susannah glanced over at Becky, her gray-green eyes keen and perceptive. “Whatever is the matter?” Then she turned to Daniel. “Would you ring the bell? I’ll have Baxter bring more tea things so Becky may join us.”
“Baxter already said he would.” If only she could somehow, wordlessly communicate the need for privacy with Susannah. She lifted her eyebrows and widened her eyes, silently pleading for Susannah to understand.
“Something is wrong. Out with it,” Susannah commanded in that familiar, eldest sister tone of voice. The morning sunlight gilded her auburn hair, touching it with gold. “Have you two been quarreling again? Honestly,” she turned to her husband, “sometimes I think I should have kept the shop. But Becky and Nan got on so well when we were all together. Now that I am not there, they fight. If I weren’t so busy with Goodwin...”
How provoking to be talked about like she was just a child, squabbling with Nan over a toy. “She has no artistic spirit at all, Susannah,” Becky burst out. “All she cares about is how much money we can make. She runs roughshod over my designs, and insists I work with inferior materials.”
Susannah shook her head. “Becky, do calm yourself. Remember, you can always count ten.”
Becky rolled her eyes. Count ten indeed. That was Susannah’s remedy for her truly awe-inspiring temper.
“You two must learn to work together. What Nan proposes is sound. We cannot expect only genteel clientele. Now that we are thoroughly entrenched in Tansley Village, we must include the kinds of goods that everyone can afford.” Susannah spoke as though she were reasoning with a toddler.
Becky opened her mouth to protest, but Daniel cut her short, a reassuring smile hovering around his lips. “Shall we give you two some privacy?”
“Actually, I have a solution I think could benefit us all.” Paul’s voice, rumbling from his corner, jerked Becky to attention. “If it’s amenable to the lady, I’d like to hire Becky.”
* * *
Three pairs of eyes turned toward Paul—Susannah’s startled gray-green gaze, Daniel’s bemused green eyes, and a pair of violet-blue, decidedly defiant ones that belonged to Becky. Well, at least he had her attention, even if she did seem a little affronted by his presence.
“I haven’t told anyone this, but my youngest sister, Juliana, passed away.” As he spoke, Becky’s mouth opened slightly, and the rebellious light in her eyes dimmed. He glanced away. Susannah made a murmur of apology, but he cut her short with a wave of his hand. If anyone showed him sympathy now, he might break down and that would not be acceptable. Better to stick to the facts of the matter at hand. “She died of a fever in Italy, where she had been living for some time. She left behind a daughter who is now my ward.”
“I am sorry to hear that Juliana died, old fellow.” Daniel shook his head and sighed. “I know she was your favorite sister.”
“Yes, well. She’s gone.” His tone was brusque, even to his own ears, and he covered the moment by clearing his throat. “The point of the matter is that her daughter, Juliet, is coming to live with me. She’s only about two years old. I’ve no idea if Juliana employed anyone suitable for her care—” lovable, impractical Juliana; how ridiculous to think of her employing servants, much less caring for a child! “—and at any rate, I want a proper English girl to bring her up. At least until I can place her in school.” He clenched his jaw, wrestling back any traces of grief. “Becky, I would like it if you cared for Juliet until she is of age.”
“But Becky has no experience as a governess.” Susannah’s brows drew together. “She also has her duties at the shop to consider. Surely there is someone among your tenants or ours that could do? At least until a nursemaid can be hired from London?”
Paul raised his head and fixed Becky with a searching look. If she didn’t appear interested, then he would have no choice but to agree with Susannah. But Becky sat back in her chair, twirling a lock of her brown hair around one finger, an absorbed expression drifting across her features. “I’ve thought of that, too,” he admitted. “But the circumstances of Juliet’s birth, and of Juliana’s stay in Italy, might be cause for gossip among people
