Page 4

20 February 1818

Later that stormy afternoon

Sighing and blinking back the tears burning hotly behind her eyelids, Mercy touched her cheek to first one girl’s silky chestnut head and then the other—Lord, how she loved these precious little girls. So much so that her heart cracked a little more each time she thought of their impending separation. A good, solid shake of the house might send the fractured organ now beating in her chest scattering all over the floor.

Not only had Mercy taught Arabelle and Bellamy everything, from which fork to use at dinner and how to divide fractions, but she’d also mothered the girls. Kissed their bruises, combed and plaited their hair each night, dried their tears, and celebrated their milestones.

She fretted about their uncertain futures.

Hers as well, truth be told.

Her position was no longer secure, and Chasity Noble, an instructor at Balderbrook’s Institution for Genteel Ladies, had written that there were no openings at the school in the foreseeable future.

Lieutenant Masterson had no living relatives, and the guardian he’d appointed for the girls had been an officer he’d served with in the navy.

At least that was what the prune-faced, sour-breathed solicitor had explained in his condescending twang a week after the funeral. A horrid little scarecrow of a man, Joseph Bralen, Esquire, had all but implied that Mercy had been the lieutenant’s long-time mistress.

“As your particular…services are no longer required, Miss Feathers,” he’d said in haughty disparaging tones, “you should prepare to depart the residence the instant the Masterson girls’ guardian sends for them.”

Renewed outrage warmed Mercy’s blood in a way the roaring fire never could.

How dare Mr. Bralen make such a vulgar insinuation?

Lewis Masterson had never stopped loving nor grieving over his beloved wife. Not once had he ever addressed Mercy with anything other than the respect and propriety her position required.

Neither was Mr. Bralen in a position to terminate her employment, the presumptuous, mean-spirited toad.

Glancing down, first at Bellamy and then at Arabelle, Mercy gave her head a slight shake. Worry proved a burdensome mantle that only weighed more as time passed. Reciting scripture and praying as she’d been taught as a child by Mrs. Shepherd alleviated only a portion of her unease.

A frown knitted her forehead as she puzzled through the questions haunting her days and nights these past weeks.

What is to become of us now?

Who was this guardian?

What kind of man was he?

Was he married?

What if…What if he refused the appointment?

Heavens above.

Mercy’s heart tripped over an irregular beat at the unbidden thought before resuming its steady rhythm. She wrinkled her nose in consternation. That disagreeable possibility wasn’t altogether farfetched. The newly appointed guardian wasn’t a relative, and many men wouldn’t welcome having two young girls foisted upon him.

Especially if he were a rakehell or rogue.

She also fervently prayed this mystery man from London would still need a governess for the girls. However, he might have children of his own and therefore not need her services. Or—she cringed at the disturbing thought—he would choose to send Arabelle and Bellamy to a boarding school.

At once, Mercy banished the horrible notion to the ash pile. He simply could not. It was unconscionable. To do so would destroy these sensitive girls. She would tell him so herself if the opportunity arose.

Meshing her lips together, Mercy considered her few options if the new guardian discharged her. Over the past five years, she’d saved most of what she’d earned.

Unfortunately, she’d learned how expediently a household of this size burned through funds. The merchants and grocers that had always extended credit to the lieutenant until the end of each month were reluctant to continue doing so without a guarantee of prompt payment.

She couldn’t blame them, though their distrust stung.

Mr. Bralen hadn’t thought to release any monies for salaries or foodstuffs either. Most inconsiderate of the uptight, judgmental man. But as she’d been obligated to use her savings to keep food on the table, her financial position wasn’t as secure as it would otherwise have been. She didn’t begrudge the necessity, and she intended to ask this enigmatic guardian for a reimbursement.