A groom came out to take the horses.
“Why don’t we sit?” Mr. Henshall suggested, pointing to a bench. “Rest a bit before walking back?”
“Actually, I think I’ve been sitting too long as it is. But might I take your arm until I am feeling steadier?”
“Certainly, my Jo.”
She looked up at him, surprised and uncertain. Why had he called her Jo? Had he mistakenly called her by another woman’s name?
As she placed her gloved hand on his sleeve, he covered it with his own and said, “I am yours to command.”
And the way he said“I am yours”made her breath hitch.
A stagecoach rattled into the stable yard, and the guard blew a loud blast on his horn.
Sarah lurched back, hand to her racing heart. “That scared me.”
But whether the horn or Callum Henshall’s words had startled her more was difficult to say.
After Colin returned to Westmount to begin crafting his kissing bough, Georgie had sneaked back and climbed the lime tree again, returning home with scraped hands, streaked knees, and money in her pocket. She hurriedly washed, changed, and spent some time discussing the play with Effie before the meeting of the governors.
Sarah had not been involved at the school, so she volunteered to remain at Sea View with the Henshalls. And James was working late at Killerton. That left Georgiana, Emily, Mamma, Viola, and Jack to attend the meeting of the subscribers of the Sidmouth charity school. The special meeting was held in the school room, and the purpose was to resolve what should be done with former pupil Cora Griffith.
The vicar, the Reverend Mr. Jenkins, served as the committee’s spiritual governor. Vice presidents and committee members included his wife as well as Mrs. Fulford, Lady Kennaway, Sir John Kennaway, and Sir George Cornish, among others.
The schoolmaster began by explaining the situation for those not yet informed, and then read a paragraph from Mrs. Limbrick’s will, which confirmed that Cora had no other known relatives yet living. She was, as far as anyone knew, an orphan. And an impoverished one at that.
Then began a debate over the merits of sending the girl to the orphanage in Exeter compared with allowing her to remain in service at the vicarage.
Mr. Jenkins spoke of his willingness to house and provide for the orphan under his roof and under the guidance of his cook, Mrs. Browland.
That woman nodded her flinty face. “That’s right. A firm hand is what’s needed for young chits like her.”
Georgiana huffed, incredulously and audibly. Emily’s mouth fell open, and she turned on her chair, looking ready to object. Mamma, seated beside them, stood abruptly and addressed the governors. “I wonder if I might offer an alternative living situation?”
“Better than in service to our good vicar?” Mrs. Browland asked.
“I have no wish to cast aspersions on you or Mr. Jenkins, but yes. I was at school with Cora’s mother. I know firsthand that theirs was a genteel, upstanding family, despite recent financial hardships. And as someone from the same parish, and well acquainted with the girl’s mother, I put myself forward as a suitable guardian. I am willing to bear the responsibility of Cora’s care and upbringing until she reaches her majority, and beyond that if she wishes.”
Georgiana stood and clapped. She had never been so proud of her mother. Emily joined in her applause while others in attendance talked among themselves.
Viola gently pulled Georgiana back into her seat.
“Quiet. Quiet, all,” one of the vice presidents demanded. “This is a respectable meeting of the school’s governors, not a beer house.”
The vicar asked, “And you believe you are in a better position to offer this orphan a home and a future?”
“I do. We are not wealthy, but our guest house is financially sound. Moreover, I have raised five daughters, and while not claiming perfection by any measure, I believe I am qualified to guide another girl on to adulthood.”
The vicar’s wife spoke up. “But we have already taken her in. Mrs. Browland ... we ... have need of her. Previous girls have not stayed long. The last one did not last a week.”
Georgiana could well believe it.
Mamma said politely, “I am sure your offer of employment was kindly intended, Mrs. Jenkins. Even so, your cook’s difficulty in keeping a scullery maid does not make this the best situation for young Cora.”
Now Mrs. Browland stood, jaw jutting hard. “You mentioned her grandmother’s financial problems. You know all about falling into hard times, don’t you?”
At this, Jack tensed, scarred cheek stretched tight, and looked ready to leap from his chair in defense of his wife’s mother. Viola grabbed his arm to stay him.
