Which was exactly the way Miss Martin had described her to the Duchess of Bewcastle—as a charity girl brought to her attention by her man of business. And he was not going to speak up in protest? Was he really ashamed of her, then? Or was he just bowing to what society expected of any gentleman?
“Would they do things with me?” the child asked, turning her face in Miss Martin’s direction. “Would they think me a nuisance?”
Yet again Joseph admired Miss Martin’s honesty. She did not rush immediately into a denial.
“We will have to find out,” she said. “They will certainly be polite. They learn good manners at my school. But it will be up to you to make friends.”
“But I have neverhadfriends,” Lizzie said.
“Then this will be your chance to make some,” Miss Martin told her.
“And I would come back here after a few weeks?” Lizzie asked.
“If you chose,” Miss Martin said.
Lizzie sat very still, no longer touching Joseph. Her hands fidgeting in her lap showed her agitation. So did the fact that she rocked back and forth as she sometimes did when she was deeply troubled. Her eyelids fluttered and her eyes wandered beneath them. Her lips moved silently.
Joseph resisted the urge to gather her up in his arms.
“But I am so afraid,” she whispered again.
“Then you will remain here,” he said firmly. “I will start looking immediately for a new companion.”
“I did not mean I would notgo,Papa,” she said, “only that I amafraid.”
She continued to rock and fidget while Miss Martin said nothing and Joseph felt resentful of her—quite unjustifiably, of course.
“I have learned all about courage from some of the stories you have told me, Papa,” Lizzie said at last. “You can only show courage when you are afraid. If you are not afraid, there is no need of courage.”
“And you have always wanted to do something courageous, Lizzie?” Miss Martin asked. “Like Amanda in your story, when she might have escaped from the forest earlier if she had not stopped to rescue the dog from the rabbit snare?”
“But it is not just for fighting witches and evil, is it?” Lizzie said.
“It is also for stepping into the unknown,” Claudia said, “when it would be easier to cling to what is familiar and safe.”
“I think, then,” Lizzie said after another short silence, “I will be courageous. Will you be proud of me if I am, Papa?”
“I amalwaysproud of you, sweetheart,” he said. “But yes, I would be especially proud if you were to be brave enough to go. And I would be very happy if it turned out that you enjoyed yourself as I daresay you would.”
“Then I will go,” she said decisively, and abruptly stopped rocking. “I will go, Miss Martin.”
Then she turned sharply to paw at Joseph’s arm and scrambled onto his lap to hug him tightly and hide against him.
His arms closed about her and he tipped back his head and closed his eyes. He swallowed, feeling absurdly close to tears. When he opened his eyes, he could see that Miss Martin was watching them steadily, looking like a disciplined teacher again—or like his very dear friend.
Without thinking he stretched one arm across the table between them and, after looking at his hand for a moment, she set her own in it.
Ah, sometimes life was bitterly ironic. He felt again as if he had found a family where there could be none—just when he was honor-bound to offer for a woman who wanted never to be kissed.
His hand closed about Miss Martin’s and squeezed tightly.
14
Late one afternoon two weeks later Claudia was dressed in herold faithful blue evening gown and was styling her hair herself, having declined the Duchess of Bewcastle’s kind offer of the services of a maid. She was feeling unaccountably depressed when she had every reason to feel just the opposite.
She was being treated as a favored guest at Lindsey Hall rather than as a teacher in charge of a largish group of charity schoolgirls. And within half an hour she would be on her way with the Bedwyn family to a celebratory dinner and social evening at Alvesley Park. She would see Susanna there. She would also see Anne, who had arrived from Wales with Sydnam and their children just yesterday.
The journey from London a few days ago had proceeded un-eventfully, though Lizzie had been tearful for a while after leaving the house and her father and had clung to Claudia the whole way. But Susanna and Peter, with whom they had traveled, had been kind to her, the dog had snuggled up beside her, and she had been more than thrilled when the carriages had stopped and Harry’s nurse had brought him forward to his mother and Lizzie had been allowed to touch his little hand and smooth her hand over his downy head.
