“My dear Aunt Emma asked me to inquire.” Involving one’s dear aunt into any occasion was certain to lend an air of respectability.
And apparently it did.
“She is improving. Her doctors are cautiously optimistic.” And then the butler clutched his hands behind his back. “Do make yourself comfortable, my lady. I’ll have the boy brought down immediately, and if it is to your liking, your maid may wait in the kitchens with Mrs. Crump. Do not hesitate to use the bell pull if you have need of anything. I am Mr. Bartholomew, at your service.”
Louise glanced questioningly over at Lydia.
“I am not in need of a chaperone while visiting with a nine-year-old boy.” She smiled, knowing her maid would likely take tea with the servants below, and that she would enjoy that far more than sitting in a corner watching her fuss over Ollie.
As Louise all but flew out of the room, Lydia turned back to Mr. Bartholomew. “You said he would be ‘brought down’?” She’d have thought he’d be working below stairs.
“From the nursery, my lady.”
“Oh… thank you, Mr. Bartholomew.” Surely, Ollie would not be spending time in the nursery if he was considered a servant? The thought sent pleasant tingles swirling about in her chest.
She could not sit down. She could not relax.
This was Jeremy’s home. A home she might once have become mistress of, but for some unknown reason that was being kept secret from her.
If she was to suffer because of it, for goodness’ sake, she deserved to know the details!
If Lucinda was here, she’d surely have gotten it out of someone by now. Lucinda would make everyone miserable until she had her way.
A sudden wave of longing crashed over her; there were times when her twin sister’s absence felt like a missing limb—or, at least, how she imagined one would be. She wondered if Lucinda was feeling the same way or if she was too distracted with her new husband…
With some effort, she forcibly shifted her thoughts away from her lingering melancholy and back to the matter at hand. She was here now to check on Ollie and possibly Jeremy. If he was at home, that is, and if he would let her.
Lydia paced across the floor a few times and then stopped to stare out a window facing the gardens, gray and dormant at this time of year.
It was three in the afternoon. Was Jeremy meeting with one of his employees at the warehouse without her? Or was he at his office, going over numbers and contemplating new ventures to keep himself distracted from annoying ladies he’d once nearly been engaged to?
He might be home, but tucked away in his office, hiding from her. Lydia wouldn’t put it past him.
She sighed just as the door opened and Ollie appeared. Wearing short pants and a white shirt with a laced collar, he was accompanied by a tall, slim woman who looked to be in her late forties. Lydia had seen enough women in this profession to know his companion was a governess. She had that distinct air of authority, combined with a no-nonsense presence. Ollie moved to lurch forward but was caught firmly by the woman’s hand on his shoulder.
“Make your bow to Her Ladyship, Master Oliver,” the woman commanded, but Lydia was pleased to also hear a note of affection in her voice.
Jeremy had hired a governess for Ollie!
All the warmth of summer swept through her.
Ollie bowed low, folding over so far, he nearly lost his balance, and then rose. He sent a questioning glance towards the woman, checking to see if he had performed the gesture adequately.
“Very good, Master Oliver.” The governess nodded in approval.
Lydia rose. “Thank you, Miss…?”
“Mrs. Mumford.”
“You are Ollie’s… governess?”
“I am, my lady.”
This was most unexpected!
As much as she wanted to pick the woman’s mind as to how she’d come by her position and what her instructions were regarding Ollie, her purpose for coming was to ask Ollie how he was doing. He might not be straightforward with her when another adult was present.
“I thank you for bringing him down, Mrs. Mumford. I’ll send him back upstairs to resume your daily schedule as soon as Oliver and I are done chatting.”
