The next afternoon Maddie sat in the parlor, once again overseeing the tea service. This time not only did Mr. Gallagher sit with Lady Haversham, but also his sister and her three children.
Over the din of the two rowdy boys, Lady Haversham said to her great-niece, “Reid must get out in society a bit while he’s home. You know I can’t do as much as I’d like. I was counting on you and Theo to organize a few things.”
“Of course, Aunt Millicent. You know we’d love to.” Vera Walker adjusted the lace fichu at her neck. “What about a musical soiree here Friday a week?” She turned to her brother, her tone gaining enthusiasm. “I could invite your old school chums Harold Stricklan and Steven Everly. Did you know Steven was just made vice president of Coutts Bank? Theo just ran into—”
Before she could finish the sentence, her oldest son rushed by her and bumped into her knee, sending tea sloshing from her cup into her saucer and onto her silk dress.
“Harry! See what you’ve done to Mama’s frock! You naughty boy!”
“I’m sorry, Mama.” He didn’t stop but whipped around the settee, closely followed by his brother.
“Timmy!”
At the same time his sister, who was sitting on the floor beside the sleeping Lilah, petted the dog too briskly and Lilah sat up and began to growl.
Lady Haversham leaned forward in her chair to see what was being done to her pet. “Careful, child! Madeleine, take the children to the garden, please.”
“Yes, my lady.” She rose immediately, knowing the command had been coming. Stifling a sigh, she rounded up the children, who jumped at the chance to be free of the confines of the parlor, and herded them downstairs.
“I had to let go their nursemaid. The woman was unreliable—” were the last words Maddie heard as she closed the parlor door behind her.
Harry, the oldest boy said to his younger brother, Timmy, “I bet I can beat you at jacks.”
“No, you can’t!”
The two continued arguing.
“Hush, children, until we’re outside.” Maddie took the two youngest firmly by the hand and began walking toward the staircase.
She herself wouldn’t have minded a brief respite in the garden if it weren’t for the fact she would have no peace for the next half hour.
Once in the backyard, the boys forgot their game of jacks and started running around the bushes.
Maddie clapped her hands, trying to get their attention, knowing Lady Haversham would be upset if any flower beds were trampled. “All right, children, what would you like to play? What about graces?”
“That’s a girl’s game!” The two boys made faces, their shouts drowning out their sister’s assenting voice.
“What about hoops and sticks?”
“Blindman’s bluff!” The boys jumped up and down until Maddie complied. It was no use arguing with them, she’d learned. She procured a large silk handkerchief from her pocket. “Who’s to go first?”
“You! You! You!”
“Very well.” She tied the scarf around her eyes. Before she could prepare herself, the older boy, an oversize ten-year-old, grabbed her from behind by the elbows and twirled her around. She groped the air in front of her to keep from losing her balance.
“You can’t catch me!” Harry’s voice came from a few feet away. Immediately they all copied him. Maddie swung around as each voice neared her but she was never close enough, and she didn’t want to take the easy way out and catch Lisbeth, the youngest. She knew she was moving farther down the garden, as their voices rang out from that end.
From past experience, she knew the boys would have her at their mercy until they tired of the game and needed her attention for a new amusement. In the meantime, she needed to grit her teeth and play along, hoping not to trip along the uneven brick walk, and praying she wouldn’t damage one of Lady Haversham’s prized bushes.
* * *
Tired of the women’s chatter around him, Reid wandered to the window, teacup in hand. He’d been sorely tempted to follow his niece and nephews out but Vera had insisted on his participation at that moment in planning her soiree. As the two women worked out the details of an afternoon musicale, he took a sip of tea and peered down into the garden, wondering what his unruly nephews were up to.
He spotted Miss Norton first, barely visible under an apple tree’s bower of blossoms. Her hands were upraised and she appeared to be calling out to the children. He didn’t see any of them at first, then one by one he saw them all up in the tree. His lips twitched in a smile until he discerned that Miss Norton was trying to get them to come down and not having an easy time of it.
Remembering the unmannerly behavior of the children the short time they’d been in the parlor, he set his teacup down on the tea tray and headed toward the door.
Vera broke off in midsentence. “Where are you going, Reid? We haven’t decided on the guest list for the musicale.”
He was already halfway across the room. “You and Aunt Millicent take care of it. Just let me know the date and time, and I’ll show up. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll only be a moment.”
Before Vera could ask him anything more, he shut the door behind him.
When he reached the garden, he heard the children’s shouts and laughter.
“You can’t get us unless you climb up.”
“You must get down immediately, Harry, and you, too, Timmy. Your sister might hurt herself. Where are you, Lisbeth?”
The six-year-old girl only giggled in glee.
“You know your aunt won’t like it that you’re in her apple tree. It’s her best orange pippin.”
“We won’t come down till you come up!”
“You aren’t playing by the rules. Now come down, Timmy.”
In reply, the boy shook the tree branch at her and a shower of blossoms littered the ground. “It looks like it’s snowing!”
“Oh, you mustn’t do that. Your aunt won’t have any fruit in the autumn if you knock the blossoms off now.”
Reid reached the tree and spied Lisbeth first on a lower branch. “Whoever thinks he can beat me in a race around the square gets a half crown.” He turned away from the tree, calling out over his shoulder, “Last one down’s a rotten egg.”
As he walked toward the garden gate, he heard scrambling and shouts as three small bodies shimmied down the tree.
“Lisbeth’s a rotten egg!” The boys called over their shoulders as they caught up to Reid. Lisbeth began to cry.
Miss Norton removed her blindfold and smoothed her hair before going to crouch by the weeping child.
“There, Lisbeth, why don’t you come along with me, and we’ll show those boys you can beat them in the race?”
Reid’s niece sniffed.
“Where’s your handkerchief, honey?”
Leaving the child with Miss Norton, Reid herded the boys into the mews. They ran down the alley until they reached Belgrave Square. Reid took them to the nearest tree and marked out the starting place. “You’ll run inside the square, all around and end back here.”
Harry’s chest puffed out. “That’s easy.”
“We’ll see. Now, let’s wait for your sister and then when I say ‘go,’ run with all your speed. Watch that you don’t cheat by cutting the corners or you’ll be disqualified.”
As Miss Norton crossed the street and approached them, holding his niece by the hand, he smiled. “I thought you could use some reinforcements.”
“Indeed, thank you.” She shaded her eyes and looked across the large, tree-studded square. “Are you sure it’s not too far for the children?”
“They needn’t complete the course. I’m only hoping to rid them of some of their excess energy.”
“Yes, I see.” Her eyes twinkled, and he noticed again how exactly her eye and hair color matched, a rich, caramel color like the toffees he used to enjoy as a boy.
He cleared his throat and turned his attention back to the boys. “All right, on your mark.” They lined up at the spot he indicated. “Go!”
He jogged alongside them, making sure not to overtake them. Lisbeth soon trailed behind and began to cry. By the second corner of the square, he glimpsed Miss Norton, who’d once again taken the girl by the hand and walked along beside her, encouraging her. Harry ran ahead of Timmy by a good lead, but as the older brother rounded the third corner, his foot tripped on a tree root, and he went flying headlong.
Reid ran up to him, the boy’s sobs reaching across the large square. The fall hadn’t looked serious enough to merit the boy’s wails. Reid knelt by him.
His nephew clutched one knee in both hands. “I...th-think it’s br-broken...!”
The trouser leg was torn and the knee scraped. Reid probed the area around it gently, but determined that no further damage had been done. Timmy leaned over his brother, panting heavily. “Does this mean I won the race, Uncle Reid?”
This only made Harry sob the louder. “You didn’t win! That’s not fair! Tell him he didn’t win, Uncle Reid! I was ahead. You saw me!”
Reid smiled at Timmy. “I think it means there’ll be a rematch once your brother’s fully recovered. What do you think, Harry? Does that sound fair?”
He swiped a sleeve across his runny nose. “I would’ve won fair and square if that tree root hadn’t been in my way.” He glared at his younger brother. “I would’ve beat you today, just like I’ll beat you by a furlong anytime we race!”
“I wasn’t the one who fell on my face and then cried like a girl!” Timmy began hopping on one foot and then the other. “Waaa!” he bawled in imitation.
Miss Norton and Lisbeth reached them. Miss Norton knelt on Harry’s other side. “Is he badly hurt?”
“Nothing more than you see. Come on, champ, let’s see if you can stand.” He held out a hand to his nephew. “’Attaboy.”
Harry wiped his nose again. “It hurts something awful, Uncle Reid.”
“Skinned knees always hurt. The trick is not to let on to the ladies.” He winked in their direction. “Come on, let’s show the others what a brave fellow you are.” Draping an arm around the boy’s shoulders, Reid urged his nephew forward. He turned to Miss Norton. “I’ll take him to the kitchen and get him cleaned up if you take charge of the other two.”
“Of course, thank you. Come along, Timmy, Lisbeth.” She took them each by the hand and directed them back to the house.
Timmy resisted. “I don’t want to go back yet.”
She pulled him gently forward. “Your mother might be getting ready to leave.”
Lisbeth tugged on her other hand. “I want to stay outside, too.” Timmy took advantage of Miss Norton’s inattention to break away from her and dart toward the middle of the square.
“Timmy!” The single word stopped the boy in his tracks. Timmy stared round eyed at Reid’s sharp tone. “Take hold of Miss Norton’s hand if you don’t want to feel the palm of mine on your backside.”
Timmy debated for only an instant. He dragged his toes in the dusty path but he didn’t disobey. As soon as he was at Miss Norton’s side, he gave her his hand and put the thumb of the other in his mouth, staring at his uncle as if he’d suddenly sprouted horns.
As they walked toward the house, Reid said to Miss Norton, “Don’t let them forget who’s in charge.”
She gave him a quick look. But she said nothing, only pressed her lips together and looked down at the ground. “Yes, sir.”
Wondering if he’d said something wrong, he walked alongside her and the children in silence to his aunt’s house. He’d been only trying to help. Had he offended Miss Norton in some way?
* * *
Maddie reentered the parlor, clutching Timmy and Lisbeth, Mr. Gallagher’s words still stinging. Although spoken softly, they’d made her feel incompetent and inadequate—the way she always did when put in charge of Mrs. Walker’s children.
As soon as she entered the parlor, Mrs. Walker’s glance went from one child to another. “Where is Master Harry?”
“He’s with his uncle.” Maddie hesitated to say anything about the scraped knee. Cowardice won and she kept silent. She immediately regretted her decision.
Lisbeth ran to her mother’s lap. “Mama, Harry fell and cut his knee! He was crying and bleeding!”
Mrs. Walker’s gaze flew to Maddie. “What has happened to my son? Tell me at once.”
“He tripped over a tree root while running.”
Lady Haversham leaned forward. “Whatever did you have him running for?”
“The boys were running a race.”
Timmy pulled at his mother’s arm. “You should have seen me, Mama.”
Lisbeth reached up to get her mother’s attention. “I was running, too.”
Timmy thrust his chin out. “I would’ve beat Harry if he hadn’t gone and fallen.”
Mrs. Walker put her hands over her ears. “Please, children, don’t interrupt your Mama when she is talking. Now, Miss—Miss—”
“Norton,” Maddie supplied for her.
“Yes, will you please tell me why my children were involved in running a race?” Her glance swept over her daughter. “And why are they so disheveled?”
“It was Uncle Reid’s idea.” Timmy’s voice wobbled. “He shouted at me, Mama.”
“Shouted at you? Oh, goodness. Now, where is Harry?”
“He’s perfectly fine, madam. Mr. Gallagher is looking after him.”
“What is this about Master Harry?” Lady Haversham thumped her cane on the carpet. “Maddie, I demand to know what has happened to him!”
Sensing her mistress’s agitation, Lilah jumped down from the old lady’s lap and began dancing around her feet, barking in staccato bursts.
Mrs. Walker’s voice rose over the din. “I placed the children in your care, Miss Norton, with full confidence that you would manage.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Maddie prayed for patience and hoped Mr. Gallagher would soon return to calm his sister down.
Mrs. Walker covered her ears again. “Can you please shush that dog, Miss Norton?”
Maddie fished out a treat from Lady Haversham’s bag and gave it to the dog. Lilah gobbled it up quickly, leaving Maddie’s palm wet, and immediately barked for another.
“Aunt Millicent, can something not be done to calm your pet?”
Lady Haversham fanned herself. “It’s because she senses something is wrong. She’s a very sensitive animal. There, Lilah, dear, you mustn’t worry. Now, Madeleine, please tell us what has happened to Master Harry.”
“He’s fine now.”
Maddie whirled around in relief as Mr. Gallagher walked in with Harry.
“Look, Mama.” Harry pointed to a plaster across his knee.
Mrs. Walker ran to her son. “Harry, whatever happened to your trousers?” Not waiting for his reply, she turned again to Maddie. “What is the meaning of this, Miss Norton? My son is not only hurt, but his best pair of trousers is ruined. Whatever have you done with the children?”
Mr. Gallagher went to pour himself a cup of tea. “Calm down, Vera. If you need to vent your spleen at someone, do it to me. Your darling boys were doing their best to disobey Miss Norton, so I took them to the square for a footrace.”
Mrs. Walker let her son’s arm go and turned to Reid. “To the square? In the midst of traffic? Reid, whatever were you thinking?”
“Attempting to wear out your unruly offspring.”
“How can you say such a thing of your own flesh and blood!”
“That may be, but they need to learn to obey their elders.”
Mrs. Walker knelt beside Harry. “Does it hurt very badly, darling?”
“It hurt awfully when I fell, and Uncle Reid put something on it that stung like the dickens, but now it’s better. Uncle Reid told me how all the men in the desert buck up. They bite a bullet, isn’t that right, Uncle Reid?”
“That’s right, sport.”
“We didn’t have any bullets, so Uncle Reid gave me a wooden spoon to bite on.”
“I should hope we don’t have any bullets!” She shook her head at her brother. “Teaching him such vulgar things. Wait until your father hears about this.” She fixed her gaze once more on Maddie. “In future, please be more careful with the children. Lisbeth is delicate and the boys need careful supervision. I don’t expect them to be removed from the garden—”
“Vera, didn’t you hear what I said? I took the boys from Miss Norton because they were acting like little dervishes.”
She sniffed and resumed her seat. “Well, I never! I didn’t expect you to insult my children. I’m their mother and ought to know them better than anyone!”
Mr. Gallagher poured another cup of tea and brought it to his sister. “Why don’t you drink this and let it settle your nerves? As you can see, Harry has survived his ordeal.” He turned to Maddie. “How about you, Miss Norton, could you use a cup of tea?”
Before she could reply, he frowned. “You look ready to collapse.” He took her by the elbow and led her to her accustomed seat, then returned to the tea cart.
“Now, did you two ladies decide on an afternoon of torture—excuse me, musical delights—for me?”
His aunt gave him a reproving look. “Reid, you are incorrigible. Now, give me Lilah. She’s had too much excitement.”
He scooped the dog up in one hand and held a teacup and saucer in the other. “Here’s your mutt, Aunt Millie.”
She took Lilah onto her lap, still looking at her nephew in disapproval. “Your sister is putting herself out for your sake. You should be more appreciative of her efforts.”
He approached Maddie and handed her the cup. “You’d best buck up, as I told Harry,” he said with a wink.
“Now, Reid, pay attention,” his aunt continued. “We’ve drawn up a list of twenty guests to invite, most of whom you are acquainted with. By the way, did you know Cecily Mason is widowed? Such a beautiful woman and still so young.”
Maddie had met Mrs. Mason once at a similar tea in this parlor and remembered her as a very attractive, poised woman. Was Lady Haversham hoping to play matchmaker for her nephew? Maddie looked down at her teacup, realizing the thought filled her with dismay.
The conversation continued in a buzz around Maddie as the women discussed the guest list. Thankfully, everyone, including the children and Lilah, ignored her for the moment.
She thought of how Mr. Gallagher had so staunchly defended her and felt cocooned in a cloud of wonder at how one man—whom she hadn’t even known a fortnight ago—could become her champion.
Finally, she lifted her teacup to her lips though her hand still trembled. Taking a small sip of her tea, she found he had sweetened it.
He’d remembered from their times of taking tea in the library how she took her tea...a lump of sugar, no lemon, no milk.
She glanced at Mr. Gallagher. He sat to her left, close to his sister. He was as handsome in profile as he was facing forward. He was still very much a mystery to her, a man who kept the few words he spoke to her during their times in the library strictly on the work at hand. She had learned so much on the subject of Egyptology from him, yet she had gleaned almost nothing about the man himself. His actions, on the other hand, spoke volumes. He was always patient in explaining the work to her. This afternoon, she’d witnessed compassion, camaraderie, a way with children, authority, a sense of humor.
What had compelled him to leave England and stay in the desert for so many years?
Maddie took another careful sip of tea. Mr. Gallagher’s personal life was no business of hers, she reminded herself. Like Lady Haversham, he was her employer, and her only obligation, besides fulfilling her duties satisfactorily, was to shine Christ’s light into their lives, as was the duty of any man or woman of faith. She didn’t know anything of Mr. Gallagher’s faith, but she did sense a reserve that perhaps spoke of a wound not fully healed.
How she longed to offer a healing balm to that wound.
* * *
Maddie wrote to one of her brothers that evening at her desk.
Dearest Todd, I have the most wonderful news. The missionary society shall be receiving an additional bank draft this fortnight for your labors in West Africa.
You ask how I am able to manage this on my meager salary. Well, the Lord has blessed me with a bit of additional work.
You know Lady Haversham has a nephew? I think I wrote you about him, Mr. Reid Gallagher. He is an Egyptologist...
Maddie went on to describe how she had come to be his assistant. As she reached midway down the other side of the paper, she held her pen in the air a moment before continuing.
He is a most considerate and generous man. I had told him that any additional payment was not necessary beyond what Lady Haversham pays me. But he insisted. I told him the money would go to missions work. This didn’t seem to bother him at all. I know you’d like him.
Maddie stopped and turned the sheet over to reread what she’d written already. It occurred to her halfway through that she had written almost exclusively about Mr. Gallagher.
She picked up her pen again. “He is an older man,” she continued, then paused again. Her brother would probably form a picture of a sixtyish gentleman puttering about in a museum, when the reverse was true. Mr. Gallagher was a man in his prime, vitally alive, virile and the very opposite of a doddering professor.
Maddie chewed on the end of her pen. Was she misleading her brother? She hadn’t said Mr. Gallagher was Lady Haversham’s great-nephew, just her nephew. With that last sentence, she was deliberately implying he was much older than her almost thirty years.
Her glance strayed away from the page, picturing Mr. Gallagher’s handsome features. She didn’t know how old he was but didn’t think he could be above forty. What would her brother think if he knew this and read her letters full of her activities at Mr. Gallager’s side? Would he begin to suspect anything of her growing feelings for the man?
She swallowed, looking back down at her words. She hated deception and considered starting the letter over or crossing out the last sentence and inserting the word great to the reference to nephew, but finally she shook her head. That would look much too obvious. And as far as starting afresh, she really didn’t want to waste a whole sheet of paper.
With a sigh, she continued writing, but this time made a deliberate effort to talk about Lady Haversham, her niece’s visit and then went on to talk of last Sunday’s sermon. She didn’t close the letter until she was satisfied that other items filled as much space as all she’d written of Mr. Gallagher and her work with him.
The exercise was for her own good. She must put things back into perspective. She was only an employee of Mr. Gallagher’s. In a few weeks, he’d be back in his beloved Egypt, and she...
She looked down at the envelope, which would soon be on a ship on its way to West Africa, while she remained behind, doing her small part to help those who were bravely carrying out the Lord’s great commission.