Chapter Six

Hannah did not have long to wait before she learned the contents of Captain Clarke’s letter. Katie summoned her to the parlor, and when she entered, she saw Captain Clarke standing by the fire, holding the letter in his hand. Mrs. Carne and Alberta stood together against the wall, obviously having been summoned as she had been herself.

Hannah stood just inside the door and waited. Aaron looked about at all of them.

“Please sit down,” he said quietly. “All of you.”

“But sir…” began Mrs. Carne.

“Please, Mrs. Carne. I know it’s against your principles, but make an exception. You’ll need to be seated when you learn what is about to befall you.”

Hannah and the servants took seats silently and waited.

Aaron paced before the fire before turning to them.

“I’ve been debating with myself as to which circumstances need to be unfolded before I reach the main point of what I must tell you. I believe I’m right in starting at the beginning, however tedious the relation may be to you.

“Eight years ago, when I was a young man living in my father’s house, I became—infatuated—with my cousin, Anna Trembley. We were of an age, and there was nothing standing in the way of an engagement save for the fact that we were young and I had yet to make my way in the world. Her parents agreed to an engagement with the proviso that there would be no marriage until I could show success in my new business venture, which I was just then beginning.

“That proviso saved me from a very foolish marriage. With the new freedom to be together which our engagement gave us, our knowledge of each other increased. I learned in very little time that my cousin’s lovely face and charming manner were but a façade for an illiberal mind, an all-consuming focus on self, and a coldness of nature. My love for her, which I thought so steadfast, disappeared in the sunshine of enlightenment like the mist that rises from the river at dawn.”

Here, Aaron paused and looked about at his listeners, an expression of poignancy on his handsome face, as if the memories of this time were very painful. For a moment, Hannah thought he would not continue at all, but then he moved to an armchair, seated himself, and spoke.

“As so many others have done, I had entangled myself in an engagement to someone I no longer loved and could never love again. At first, I resigned myself to my fate, but as more time passed and my changed feelings became apparent to my cousin, she demanded an explanation of my attitude and conduct. I told her the truth, that I had found myself mistaken in my feelings but was prepared to go through with the engagement. She expressed her anger and distress but not as strongly as I would have expected. She told me that she would release me if I would promise one thing.

“The joy of this release made me willing to promise anything, and I hastily agreed to whatever she wanted. Her words then were, ‘I intend to marry, and although you were my first choice, I have several other suitors. My condition for your release is this: if I have children and my husband dies before they’re grown, you will take the children and raise them as your own.’

“You can well imagine my shock. I stared at her, unable to comprehend such a request. She then said, ‘You may think this condition strange, but I’m very serious in it. I don’t like children, and therefore fickle fate is sure to present me with some. I have no sisters or brothers to take them, and so I call upon you—my cousin and friend, and one whose love was supposed to have been forever—to grant me this boon. If I were to be widowed, I would want to be free.’

“My only thought then was to escape from her presence as quickly as possible, so I hastily complied with her request, feeling certain that she would never want to part from her children if children she someday had. However, she had me sign a statement first to bind me in this agreement. I signed, and we parted. I soon took up residence in America, and although my parents were privy to her future actions and whereabouts, they told me little out of their sense of delicacy and concern for my feelings. I knew both Anna’s parents died of the smallpox a few years later and that she herself was living in Boston and had a prosperous husband and two sons; that was all.”

Aaron rose and paced a few steps. He then picked up the letter from the table where he had placed it. “This letter is from Anna’s solicitor. I will read it.”

Boston, November 30, 1838

My dear Captain Clarke:

I am writing on behalf of Mrs. Anna Trembley Martinson, the widow of Xavier C. Martinson of Beacon Hill, Boston. Mrs. Martinson has informed me you are to have the care and rearing of her two sons until such time as the children are independent. She is embarking for India and has not time to bring the children to you herself. They are traveling by post with a servant and should arrive one day after this letter reaches you.

Mrs. Martinson has informed me you have prior knowledge of her intention to have her children reside with you in the event of her husband’s untimely death; therefore, I have no hesitation in following through with her request. The boys, as I’m sure you know, are Andrew, aged three years, and Xavier (called Aven), aged five years.

I remain, dear sir, your servant,

Edouard Mallow, Esq.

Aaron ceased speaking, and there was silence in the room. Mrs. Carne was the first to regain her wits after the shock of the letter.

“Sir, if you are to raise your cousin’s children, so be it. You can count on my help with them. I know a thing or two about little ones, having brought up four myself.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Carne. I didn’t expect less from you, but I’m not willing to overburden you with childcare, with all you have to do. Here’s what I propose:

“We have among us, fortunately, a young lady of education, who, when I first met her, had some thought of becoming a governess. Hannah, will you consent to take charge of the children’s education?”

“Of course! I should be delighted to help you in any way!”

“Thank you. And Alberta, will you take charge of dressing them in the morning and bathing them in the evening?”

“Certainly, sir.”

“And Katie—will you be so good as to make meals for them in the kitchen until such time as they are old enough to eat in the dining room?”

“Yes, sir. And I’ll teach them some manners if they’ve got none from their mither. The idea of her abandoning babes! Her heart must be made of ice!”

“Katherine!” cried Mrs. Carne. “It is not your place to criticize the master’s family! Mind your tongue, girl!”

“Well, aye, ma’am, but I wouldn’t see you send your babes off in a coach so you could hop about the world!”

“Indeed not. ’Tis strange beyond reckoning. Poor little mites, their hearts will be broken when they find their mither gone.”

“Indeed!” Hannah replied. “We must be gentle and patient with them. How frightened they’ll be!”

Aaron waited for silence before he spoke. “I want to assure all of you I won’t shirk my responsibility. I agreed to this strange arrangement and will do all in my power to become a loving father to these poor little fellows.”

“We must try to make amends for the sadness in their lives, the poor little tykes,” said Alberta. “Even if they’re naughty, we must remember that their da is dead and their ma didn’t like them enough to rear them herself.”

“Yes,” agreed Hannah, “we must give them time to adjust to such changes in their lives.”

Mrs. Carne was thinking of more practical matters. “Sir, where would you like the little boys berthed? We’ll begin preparations this evening.”

There was discussion then about bedchambers and other practical matters, and this went on for some time. When all was arranged, Aaron thanked them for their willingness to care for the children.

“However foolish my agreement to this may have been, I won’t have the children pay for it. They’ll be well cared for, and I know you all join me in the wish to make them happy in their new lives.”

When Hannah retired to bed that night, her mind was full of the excitement of the children’s arrival. Her last thought, before she drifted into sleep, was that her own childhood was behind her and now she would have the responsibilities of a grownup. Her life would never be the same.

****

The next morning brought a surprise. Hannah’s first impression when she opened her eyes was that there was something strange about the light. She hurried to the window and beheld a wondrous sight—the earth and everything on it had been transformed into a fairyland by a drifting fall of delicate snow.

Hannah, growing up near London, had seen only occasional snow flurries, which had melted quickly in the inevitable rain of southern England. Never had she seen such a breathtakingly beautiful sight as this—every tree turned into a crystalline miracle, the great barn crowned with white, and the river shimmering as the falling snow melted into the current.

She threw on her dressing gown and ran barefoot down the stairs and out through the kitchen door into the dazzling wonderland. Hopping quickly to keep her feet from freezing, she scooped up a handful of snow and hurried back in. Delighted, she watched it melt in her hands, tasting it before it slipped away.

A voice startled her. “Have you never seen snow before?” asked Aaron from the doorway.

“No, only flurries that melted when they touched the ground. It’s so lovely! So enchantingly beautiful!”

“Indeed it is, but a great annoyance if one must travel. If it gets much deeper, there will be no coach from Providence.”

“Oh dear, the children. Where will they stay if the coach can’t get through?”

“I don’t know. I hope my heedless cousin has provided the nanny with enough money for such an emergency, and that she’s a reliable person.”

Mrs. Carne appeared behind Aaron, and Hannah remembered she was still in her dressing gown. “Pardon me,” she said quickly as she slipped past them and hurried to her chamber. When she was properly attired, she appeared for breakfast to find that Aaron had gone to the barn to order the sleigh. He was back in a few minutes, stamping his feet at the kitchen door.

“Miss Hannah,” he called to her. “Are you game for a sleigh ride?”

“Yes, indeed!” she replied instantly.

“Put on your warmest cloak and boots and meet me at the front of the house.”

Hannah obeyed. When she ran out the front door, she saw the bay horses standing in harness to a shiny red sleigh. The horses were blanketed to keep them warm in the snow, and their nostrils sent clouds of steam in the air as they stamped impatiently. Hannah sprang aboard, Aaron clucked to the team, and the sleigh creaked forward. Suddenly, it picked up speed and skimmed weightlessly over the surface of the snow. Hannah laughed with delight as they left the drive and flew along the river road toward town.

The village was a fairyland as well. The boats at anchor looked like toys, and each house might have been made of gingerbread with white icing. As they trotted toward the harbor, they saw little boys and girls dashing about excitedly, throwing blobs of snow at each other and falling on the ground to make angels. Two bigger boys were hard at work on a snowman. Wagons and carts and carriages moved slowly along, while shaggy horses snorted and shook their heads to keep the snow off their faces.

When they reached the harbor, Aaron called to a man who was clearing snow off the step of a tiny shop.

“Heyo, Mr. Collins! D’ye think the coach will get through?”

“Aye!” came the answer. “’Tis only six inches deep and thinning now. We’ll see the coach in an hour or me name’s not Collins!”

Aaron drove the sleigh to shelter under a stand of pines at the edge of the lane. Then he turned to Hannah. “I’ve a better idea than to wait here. Let’s drive northward for a bit to see if we can meet the coach. If we do, it will be taking off some weight for the driver and horses and we can get the children home faster.”

“Indeed, yes!” cried Hannah.

They set off, moving slowly now so the horses would not tire. The sky was clearing and the air becoming colder, and Hannah was very glad of the sheepskin quilts that Aaron had placed in the sleigh. As they reached the top of the hill just north of Mystic, Aaron stopped to allow the horses to breathe. Hannah turned and looked back at the town. From the crest of the hill, it appeared to be a miniature village huddled along the edge of a platinum river.

“’Tis lovely,” Hannah breathed. “I do believe I’ll always think this village the loveliest place on earth.”

“I feel the same,” he replied. “When I first came here, I was en route to Boston, but I was forced to take shelter from a storm. I looked about and knew that this is where I wanted to live.”

They turned forward at the sudden sound of a horse’s whinny. The bays whinnied in response, and at that moment the coach was to be seen slowly rounding a bend about a quarter-mile in the distance. Aaron touched the reins, and they trotted briskly forward.

When the coach was hailed to a stop and the driver dismounted, Aaron explained his business. The man was glad to relieve his team of three passengers and opened the coach door. A young woman’s head was then to be seen. She climbed out, holding a child wrapped in a wool blanket. She handed him to the driver and then lifted out the other child. He was the bigger boy, and she set him against the coach for he was half asleep. By then, Aaron and Hannah were both with her.

“I’m Captain Aaron Clarke,” Aaron said, “and this is Miss Hannah Winstead. We’re here to collect my cousin’s children.”

The young woman—a plump, pretty girl—managed a curtsy while taking the still-sleeping younger child from the driver.

“Please allow me to help you,” Hannah said and gently relieved the girl of the child.

“Thank you, miss,” she said. “We stayed with my mam in Providence last night, and the little ones were up so late and run around so much, they fell asleep as soon as the journey began.”

Aaron picked up the larger child and carried him to the sleigh. He helped the women and children settle themselves under the sheepskin coverlets and then retrieved the luggage from the roof of the coach.

“Is this all?” he asked the girl as he settled a valise and one small trunk in the sleigh.

“’Tis, sir. The boys had very little in the way of clothing, and most was for the warm months. My mam gave me the wool blanket to take with us today. Yesterday, ’twas very cold in the coach from Boston to Providence.”

Aaron turned the horses about, got the sleigh in motion, and then glanced back at the young woman. “I’m sorry to say I don’t know your name. The letter I received from my cousin’s solicitor referred to you only as the boys’ nanny.”

“It’s Clara, sir. Clara Babbington. Indeed, I’m the boys’ nanny and have been since little Andrew’s birth three years ago.”

“It sounds as though my cousin did not make proper preparations for sending her children. You’ve been to a great deal of trouble, it appears.”

“Sir, please forgive me, but I’m a plain-speaking creature. Your cousin, Mrs. Martinson, made no preparations to care for her children at any time in their lives. She bore them, that’s all. Her husband wanted an heir, and she bore him two. Mr. Martinson was an affectionate father, but he was out a great deal on business. Mrs. Martinson was seldom at home. The housekeeper and meself had to teach the boys to call her ‘Mama,’ for she never spoke of herself that way.”

“This behavior on the part of my cousin doesn’t surprise me, Miss Babbington.”

“Clara, sir, please. I’m not such a person as you need to address by me last name.”

“You seem like a very good person to me. I hope we can prevail on you to stay with us for a time, at least until the boys are used to their new home.”

“Thank you, sir. If I can be of help, I’ll stay. I’m right fond of the little boys, sir, as you can imagine.”

Hannah turned around and smiled at Clara. “They’re very handsome little lads, Clara.”

“Yes, miss. They’re good little boys. Not angels, but my mam says little boys shouldn’t be angels. They should run about and be noisy. Her practice is as good as her words, miss, for me brothers all run about and make enough noise for ten, though there be only three of them.”

The elder child, who had been dozing, suddenly sat up and looked about. “Clara, where are we? Are we flying in the air?”

“No indeed, Aven. You’re riding in a sleigh. Look out the side, and you’ll see the runners skimming over the snow. Careful, don’t lean too far.”

“Clara,” he whispered very audibly. “Who are those people—that gentleman and lady? Why is she holding Andrew?”

“The gentleman is Captain Clarke, and the lady is Miss Winstead. Remember I told you that we’d take a long journey and make a long visit while your mama went to India?”

The boy nodded.

“Well, our journey is almost at an end. We’ll soon be at Captain Clarke’s house. You and Andrew will live there for quite some time.”

“What about you, Clara? Will you live there too?”

“Yes, my sweet lad, I’ll be there too.”

Hannah turned around and smiled at the boy. “Tell me, Aven, do you like books? I’m very anxious to read some stories to you.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied earnestly. “But Andrew doesn’t.”

“Well, Andrew is perhaps too young yet for books. When he’s a great lad like you, I’m sure he’ll like them as well.”

“Will you read a story to me today?”

“Yes, certainly.”

Andrew stirred, and Hannah turned about and shifted him to a better position. He opened his eyes, looked at her, and began to cry.

“Clara, you’d better take him for he doesn’t know me,” Hannah said quickly, and the boy was shifted into the back seat.

“There, laddie, ’tis Clara. You’re quite all right, so don’t cry.”

Aven seized his brother’s arm. “Andrew, look! We’re in a sleigh and flying over the ground. Look out the side!”

Andrew forgot his fright as he joined his brother in an examination of the sleigh’s runners. Hannah glanced at Aaron and saw him smile. He tapped the reins, and the horses trotted faster. Through the village they cantered, then along the river road. When they reached the drive to the house, both boys were laughing with delight.