“He had a basket of little kittens inside.” Robin looked sullen. “He was going to give us one. He said we could choose one for each.”
“Good God.” Philip raked his hand through his hair. “An old man with kittens. And you should be old enough to know better. You want kittens? I can procure an entire litter, but never, ever get into a stranger’s carriage. Robin, Joy. Is that clear?”
Robin blinked back his tears and nodded.
Philip exhaled shakily, then gathered Joy and Robin to him. “I am sorry I shouted at you,” his voice was thick with emotion. “You gave me such a fright, my heart nearly jumped out of my body. I couldn’t bear it if something ever happened to you.”
“Nothing will happen to us, Papa,” Robin mumbled into his shirt. “I can take care of us all.”
Philip ruffled his head. “That’s my boy.” His voice wobbled. His eyes met Arabella’s. She looked away and shifted from one foot to the other.
“Oy!” Mr Pethick, the grocer, came huffing towards her. “You forgot your things. The ledgers, and the shopping.” He handed her two leather books and the wrapped-up parcel. “I gave the gal the ledgers, sir. I need ‘em done by tomorrow.”
“Certainly.” Philip untangled himself from his children. “You all go home now with Miss Weston. I have some more work here left to do.”
“So am I not dismissed?” Arabella asked timidly.
He gave her a hard look, turned and stalked back to his sack of flour.
She supposed that meant no.
She exhaled a shaky breath. “Before we go, children, I’d like to make one more visit.”
Mrs Woodhouse’s crinkled face broke into a delighted smile when she opened the door to Arabella and the three Merivale children. “I never receive visitors, you see.” She beamed and ushered them inside.
Mrs Woodhouse was more than willing to lend her piano to Katy, in return for weekly reading sessions with Arabella.
Mr Argus promised to pick up the piano for them the next day.
Arabella returned with the children to Rosethistle Cottage, satisfied, but also drained. Too many things had happened that day.
Philip arrived later in the evening, in time for supper. His face looked drawn and tired. He barely seemed to register the pianoforte that stood in the parlour room. “If you will excuse us, Miss Weston.” He held the door to the parlour room. “I need to spend some time with my children. Alone.” He set his chin and his demeanour was distant. He looked at her as if she were a stranger.
“Of course.”
He nodded and closed the door.
Arabella stood in the dark hallway, her chest constricting. She heard their voices chattering through the closed door. Arabella went back and sat on her narrow bed.
For the first time, Philip had made her feel like she really was a governess, a domestic who worked for the family, but who didn’t really belong with them and never would.
It was only natural, of course.
Then what was this dull yearning in her heart?
Chapter 14
She was in the middle of recounting how Hannibal conquered the Alps, when someone hammered on the front door. Peggy couldn’t open, because she was out washing laundry, and Mr Merivale was in town again, so the banging continued relentlessly.
Arabella looked around cluelessly, until she realised that the banging would continue because there were no servants who’d open the door.
Katy looked up from her work. “Do you want me to go see who it is, Miss?”
Arabella set down the book from which she’d been reading aloud. “No, finish writing your essay. I’ll do it.” She strode to the door and opened it.
A man wearing a dark blue livery with shiny brass buttons and a white, powdered wig snapped to attention. “I have a message for the earl, ma’am.”
Arabella felt catapulted back to Ashmore Hall’s blue drawing room, where footmen delivered messages like that. She gaped at him.
