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Within a few days, Rose was completely recovered. Sarah tucked her into bed and waited a few minutes until she was sleeping. These evening moments were the only time she had to herself and were not to be wasted.
Sarah hadn’t been outside since Rose’s misadventure. She dared not take Rose where more nettles might reach out and drag her to an itchy death. But Sarah needed some air, to see the sky and let the breeze stroke her cheek.
Sarah strolled through the grounds in the fading daylight. The robin was calling again, singing his own evensong, easily as delightful as any canticle coming from the church. She followed the song to the same patch of undergrowth that had nearly killed Rose.
Only now it looked as if a herd of wild pigs had torn through it. Large patches of dirt showed through where before it had been bursting with green. She looked closer. The nettles were gone. All of them. Not a stray stem or leaf anywhere.
Sarah made her rounds through the gardens, carefully looking for any sign of nettles. There was none. Any place they had been growing was now barren of greenery of any sort.
Mr. Selwood had had it all removed. Every last trace.
She turned and ran back into the house. Where was Mr. Selwood this time of evening? The drawing room, most likely, drinking his one glass of port and reading a book. Or reading a paper detailing news of the war. Sarah had found war news strewn about the house when she was a maid. It seemed to interest him greatly.
She opened the door and peeked in. He was not there. She tried the library next, but it was also empty. She knocked at his room. Not there either.
Perhaps he’d gone out. Just because he never had before didn’t mean he never did. She rounded the corner back toward the Stewart room to check on Rose but noticed a faint light coming from the chamber across from hers. The Selwood room.
She opened the door a crack. Standing at the window, gazing out, was Mr. Selwood. He held a newspaper folded in his hands while a single candle burned in a chamberstick on the mantel.
She’d never seen a more solitary figure. Such a very large house for one man to live in. How lonely he must be.
She pushed the door all the way open and entered. “Sir.”
He turned.
She crossed the room until she stood in front of him. “Thank you. Thank you so very much.”
He shook his head. “For what?”
“For removing all the nettles. You have no idea how much better I feel. I think I shall sleep peacefully this night for the first time since the day Rose stumbled into them. I went out walking and heard the robin’s song, but not the wood pigeon today. I wonder why? In any case, the robin called from the ivy thicket, and when I went, I saw the nettles were all gone. I wanted to hug you for it, but that would hardly be invisible. But still, sir. You should know I am so very grateful.”
He waved it off as though he had not just saved a child’s life. “Of course they should be removed.”
“Mrs. Walker will not be happy.” Sarah laughed. “She is convinced that nettle tea is the solitary cure for every ailment a person can suffer.”
He grinned. “She can get nettles from the apothecary if she needs them.”
“I suppose so. But still, I think there will be a small portion of hell to pay.” She glanced around the room. The bed cover was decorated with a woodland print. A ball sat on the corner of the window seat. A line of tin soldiers marched across the dressing table. It was a child’s room.
“What are you doing in here?” Was this the room of his youth?
“Thinking,” he said. He took a deep breath and turned away from her. “Thinking that perhaps we should convert this into a schoolroom for you and the child.”
It was a good size room, and as much as she loved Rose, it would be nice to have her bed to herself again. “A proper schoolroom and a place for Rose to play would be perfect. We could put a table here for work”—she crossed to the opposite wall—“and over here perhaps a little bed. And a rocking horse. I always wanted a rocking horse. One with a mane and a long tail.”
But what was she thinking? She would be long gone by then. It would be the new governess who would enjoy the benefits of Mr. Selwood’s generosity. “What I mean is, I’m sure the next governess would appreciate it.”
“You could stay,” he said, back to looking out the window.
He knew well how to tempt her. First with his beauty and now with a new schoolroom. But she could not let herself be drawn in. “I’m sorry, Mr. Selwood. But I cannot.”
#
“E is for eat. Which is something you love to do.” Sarah showed Rose the wooden block with the letter E on it. It was a set she’d found while rummaging through the Selwood room. They sat on the floor with their legs crossed, sorting through the alphabet.
The renovation of the Selwood room was nearly complete, as was Sarah’s time at Banwick House. Mr. Selwood had listened carefully to all of Sarah’s ideas, consulting her frequently on the size of the table, the number of chairs, curtains, and almost everything else.
He often walked with them through the gardens, listening to Rose repeat everything Sarah said to make sure he heard it properly. Each day his laughter came more easily, his smile more readily. And each day Rose reached for his hand but never received it.
It was these moments with Mr. Selwood, when the clouds cleared from his countenance and his deep voice rolled along freely like a river over shallow rocks that Sarah would miss most.
“E. Eat,” Rose repeated. She took the block from Sarah and studied the letter that had been painted in red. “Eat.”
“That’s right.” Sarah pointed to the stack they were making, and Rose added the E block to it. “What’s next?” Sarah asked.
Rose took the next one and handed it to Sarah.
“F. F is for family.” Sarah traced the letter with her finger before giving it back to Rose.
“Family?” Rose copied what Sarah had done and let her finger follow the blue paint of the letter F.
“A family is a mother and a father and sisters and brothers.” Sarah looked at Rose. Neither the child nor herself had any sort of proper family. She could have said feather or fairy or farthing or any number of words that would be more appropriate than family.
“Do you remember your mother?” Sarah asked. Perhaps if she used her mistake to her advantage, she might learn something about Rose’s life before Banwick House.
Rose stared at her.
“Who did you live with before you came here?” she prompted. “Was it your mother?”
Rose gave a tiny nod.
“See there. You do have a family.”
But now the child looked about to cry.
“Aw. There now. Do you miss her?” Sarah had not meant to stir up homesickness.
Rose shook her head, and her chin quivered. She crawled into Sarah’s lap, clinging to her apron front. She pointed her finger right at Sarah’s chest. “Mother.”
Sarah had not yet had the heart to tell Rose she was leaving in less than a week and a new governess would come instead. Rose made it harder by the day to think of leaving, and now this? How was she to go when Rose clung to her more and more each day?
“You know, Rose, family doesn’t have to be a mother and a father and such. Some families are made of all sorts of people, yeh?”
Rose looked up into Sarah’s face.
“Mr. Selwood is your family now. He will love you and watch over you and help you grow up into a lovely young lady.”
“Mr. Selwood is father?”
“Well, no. He’s not your actual father.” Leastways as far as she knew. “But he is like a father. Some fathers we are born with, and some come along later and become like a father.”
The vicar was probably the closest man to a father Sarah remembered. Hopefully Rose and Mr. Selwood would have a better relationship than vicar to orphan. Rose loved Mr. Selwood, but Mr. Selwood had still not warmed up to Rose. Every time Rose approached, he backed away like a hare from a fox.
“Father,” Rose said, holding up the block. “F.”
“That’s right.” The girl was very bright.
Rose stacked the block and reached for another. She looked at it, then handed it to Sarah.
“G.”
There was a knock at the door, and Mr. Walker appeared. “The master’s asking for ye, miss. For you and the little miss to come to the drawing room. Some guests are here that want to meet the little one.”
Sarah had not heard the front door nor any sound of life in the house beyond Rose.
“Who on earth would be asking for us?” But Mr. Walker had already left. “Well, then, Rose. Shall we go see Mr. Selwood?”
Rose jumped up. “See Mr. Selwood!” She pulled Sarah’s hand, tugging her to her feet and out the door.
As they neared the drawing room, Sarah heard a female voice. One that was a few pitches above shrill. Miss Lynn. And, more than likely, also her mother.
Sarah groaned. Of all the people she did not want to see again, Miss Lynn was second on the list. Why, exactly, she could not say. Maybe it was the way she’d forced herself into the house that day. Or the way her voice reached notes not even an opera soprano could manage. Or maybe it was the way she looked at Mr. Selwood like he was some kind of delectable confection. But Rose was tugging at her, anxious to get into the room.
Mr. Walker opened the door for them and announced, “Miss Basingstoke and Miss Woolsey.” As if Sarah was anyone worth announcing.
When Rose saw the other ladies, she hid behind Sarah with only her big round eyes peeking out.
Sarah gave the women a little curtsey and then stood there, unsure why she was suddenly on display. No one spoke, and it had been so ingrained into Sarah that she must not speak unless spoken to that she finally had to give Mr. Selwood an urging glance.
“Miss Lynn, Mrs. Lynn, this is my ward and her governess.”
As far as introductions went, it was hardly helpful. He’d not even given their names. Perhaps he thought Mr. Walker had already covered it. And unless the Lynn ladies were utter idiots, he was probably right.
“Come on out and say how d’ye do, Rose.” Sarah tugged Rose in front of her.
“How you do,” whispered Rose.
Mr. Selwood grinned, and that was all Rose needed. She abandoned Sarah and ran over to him. He edged as far from her as the sofa would allow.
Rose gazed up at him and said, “Father.”
There was one full instant of absolute silence. Then Miss Lynn’s tea splashed onto her pristine white muslin. Her dress was ruined, but it didn’t appear she’d noticed. Mr. Selwood seemed about ready to make another dash into his library. And the Mrs. Lynn started fishing around in her reticule, presumably for a hangman’s rope.
“Uh, we’ve been studying the alphabet,” Sarah said. “We just finished the letter F. She’s showing Mr. Selwood what she learned. Isn’t that right, Rose?”
Rose looked over at her.
“F is for . . .” Sarah prompted.
“Father.”
“And . . .”
“Family.” Rose smiled brightly at Mr. Selwood.
Fish. Fire. Fox. Any word would have been better.
“Oh,” Miss Lynn said, her voice like a screeching cat. “How nice.”
“Well done,” Mr. Selwood said to Rose as he stood to move farther away.
Rose followed him, her eyes gleaming like brown crystals as she smiled at him.
“Miss Woolsey,” said Mrs. Lynn, her voice cracking. “I understand you are highly educated, yet you worked as a housemaid.”
Sarah glanced at Mr. Selwood. He gave her a nod of encouragement.
“Yes, ma’am. I was at Harleigh’s School for Girls for nine years. I was top of my class, if I might say so myself.” That was something she’d not even told Mr. Selwood. She didn’t want to boast, but the Lynns were eyeing her like she was a piece of potato peel that needed throwing in the scrap bin.
“And your parents?”
“Both of them died when I was very young.”
“So you are an orphan?” The old woman opened her fan and waved it in front of her face to clear the odor of Sarah’s undesirable lineage.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“You have no family at all?”
“No, ma’am.” Sarah smoothed out the front of her apron. She probably should have tidied herself up before coming to the drawing room. That might have helped her cause at least a little.
Rose stomped over, her little face screwed up in a scowl. “F. Family.” She pointed to Sarah, then to herself, then over at Mr. Selwood. “Sometimes family is all sorts of people.”
Sarah laughed out loud at the way the child had repeated her words. Clearly Rose was as fond of the Lynns as Sarah was. Rose may not have understood all that was going on in the drawing room, but she was smart enough to catch on to the Lynn’s distaste. And she’d marched on over to defend her governess. Sarah wanted to hug her.
Mr. Selwood had found safety behind the sofa. He stood there with his eyes going back and forth between Sarah and Rose with a look Sarah could not read.
Mrs. Lynn snapped her fan closed. “Family is fortune and connections. Without that, a person is nothing. I do not understand, Mr. Selwood, why you have created an assembly of orphans in your home. Your parents would not approve.”
Mr. Selwood opened his mouth to speak, but Mrs. Lynn cut him off.
“It is highly unseemly for a bachelor living alone to hire a governess, even if she is nothing more than a housemaid. You would do better sending the child to boarding school. And as for the housemaid—”
“You need not worry about me,” Sarah said. Anything to stop this awful tirade in front of Rose. She covered Rose’s ears and whispered, “I will be leaving this house by the end of the week anyway.”
Miss Lynn’s shoulders relaxed, and a wistful smile crossed her face. “That is indeed good news. We know many good schools, do we not, Mother?”
Mrs. Lynn nodded stately. “Indeed, we know the best of the best. I will have a footman bring a list of places I think will make a suitable match for the child. All of which would be far superior to a housemaid.” The two ladies snorted in unison.
Mr. Selwood left the cover of the sofa and placed himself in front of Sarah and Rose. “Enough,” he said to the lady Lynns. “I will decide what and who is suitable in my own home. Miss Woolsey is the most capable governess I’ve ever seen, and none other could be better for this child. You have shown me exactly why a housemaid was the correct choice. I appreciate your concern, but allow me to inform you your advice is neither wanted nor will it be heeded. Thank you for calling, Miss Lynn, Mrs. Lynn, but let me assure you if you come again, I will most certainly not be at home.”
Both of the ladies’ mouths fell open. Sarah’s did too, for that matter. She could scarcely believe her ears. No one, not ever, had spoken so highly of her before. Even the loathsome Charlie Crump, who had flattered and wooed her, had never said anything so sincere. She wanted to hug Mr. Selwood. Instead, her arms circled around Rose and pulled her close.
Mrs. and Miss Lynn stood up. They did not say another word but simply left, their exit as graceful as all their movements in spite of the vortex of vexation spinning round them.
Mr. Selwood, like Sarah and Rose, stood frozen until the front door closed. Then he turned around and faced her.
“I’m sorry, Miss Woolsey, that you had to endure such suffering at their hands. You do not deserve it.”
“And I’m sorry if I caused you embarrassment.” Mr. Selwood did not deserve to be ridiculed because of her and her lack of connections and family. “I didn’t realize when Mr. Walker called Rose and me down that it would be the ladies. I didn’t even take off my apron. Not that the dress underneath is anything to be proud of, but still I could have made myself a little less awful to meet them, and Rose too. I should have combed her hair and repinned it. It’s so fine that no matter what I do, it comes out again in two seconds. But she was so excited to see you, she ran off before I could even think it through properly. I do apologize.”
“Miss Woolsey,” he said, “Miss Lynn wouldn’t give two straws about a governess if you weren’t as lovely as you are. And let me add that of all the people in the world whose opinion matters to me, Mrs. and Miss Lynn are among the lowest.”
That must be fairly low. But still, they were his neighbors and peers. What would society think of him once they spread word of how he’d treated them? Not that Sarah minded, to be sure.
Rose reached out and took Mr. Selwood’s hand. “F,” she said. “Family.”
“Family,” he repeated quietly. Then he pulled his hand away and left, the floorboards creaking along toward the library.
It was when the library door clicked shut that his words finally settled on her. Lovely, he had called her.