Page 21 of A Gentleman's Reckoning
“Well, then,” Margery said, accepting her cup. “I hope I shall have a chance to know Mr. Rowles better, for if you like him, then so must I. At least the fact that he is not a gentleman ensures he is not likely to snub me.”
“He would not dare,” Geny said, narrowing her eyes with mock fierceness.
On Monday,Geny went to the orphanage as usual, and although she had Charity style her hair into a softer arrangement, she wore a more sensible gown in the color of rifle green. Once again, the simple act of climbing the stairs to reach the office she shared with the head matron left her breathless in her anticipation of seeing Mr. Rowles. Mrs. Hastings was at the point of leaving the office, and she stepped back to allow Geny to enter.
“The foundling baby appears to be completely on the mend, I thought you might wish to know. He even smiled at Nurse today.” Mrs. Hastings was rather severe overall, but Geny knew she had a soft spot for babies.
She hung her coat on the hook and turned to face the head matron. “That is wonderful news. I had planned to visit him this morning.”
Geny only taught the five children reading and writing once a week, which gave her the freedom to attend to other matters in the asylum. She had insisted upon teaching one class, however, for although she did not have the time to devote many hours, it was her favorite time of the week. She also planned to visit Gabriel and see how he was coming along with his training. He was a good-natured twelve-year old boy who had a bright future ahead of him.
Mrs. Hastings left for her errand, and Geny went over to her desk. There was nothing precisely she had to do, which left her with time to spare. She sat, prey to her state of indecision—prisoner to her desire to see him while wrestling with her good sense. It was impossible to go directly into Mr. Rowles’s office. She had no reason to do so and therefore must look ridiculous should she attempt it. However, nothing that she had planned to do at the asylum today seemed as important as this. She couldnot imagine leaving without at least exchanging a few words with him.
She sat for a while, knotting her fingers, the only sounds in the orphanage muffled and coming from far away. Then, an idea sprang to her mind that was so clever it caused her to inhale sharply. She would go to Mr. Dowling’s office first, for she did have a reason to speak to him. He had recently placed Betsy as a kitchen maid in Mrs. Strathmore’s household. The asylum had the practice of checking in two weeks after a placement to make sure the situation was working well, and she could ask him about it. From there, it would only be natural to step into Mr. Rowles’s office to wish him a good day.
She wondered if he would be glad to see her and was already smiling in anticipation. He had said her character was beautiful, and that was quite the loveliest thing anyone had ever said to her.
Having decided upon a course of action, Geny stood and went to carry out her mission. She went through the parlor and was almost at the doorway of the meeting room when Mr. Dowling appeared through it, causing a near run-in. They both drew back in surprise.
“I thought I heard your voice, my lady.” He bowed and smiled at her. She did not know why his presence always made her want to flee. “How do you do?”
Her initial disappointment was overpowering, for now she had no reason to visit Mr. Rowles’s office. She might be forced to leave the orphanage without having spoken to him, and she would not be given a clue if he felt anything like she did. Was it only she who thought about him constantly? Did he return her regard? All of these thoughts and sensations flew through her mind in the space it took for her to return a polite smile and civil nod.
“I am very well. I was wishing to speak with you?—”
He did not let her finish before saying with an arch smile, “Ido not know what I could have done to have merited any space in your ladyship’s thoughts.”
Geny paused in exasperation. She was accustomed to such fulsome behavior from him, although her wintry reaction to it would have signaled to a more intelligent man that it was not welcome. “I was wondering if you have been to the Strathmore residence to see how Betsy is getting on?”
He looked momentarily nonplussed at her question, as though he did not even remember who Betsy was. Then a look of comprehension dawned on his face, and he rallied. “I have not yet done so, but I had plans to do that this week.”
This caused her irritation to rise. Mr. Dowling paid attention where it was not welcome and lost it where it was most needed. She put on a cultivated look of surprise that she hoped would depress his pretension.
“But it has been a month since Betsy was placed, Mr. Dowling. Usually this step is something that must be accomplished after two weeks.”
Her displeasure was evident should he choose to note it. She could not be certain he would, since he seemed to have a particularly thick skin.
An oily smile returned to his face. “I have been busy arranging other interviews for the orphans who will soon complete their training. But I have not forgotten about Betsy, you may be assured of it, my lady.”
Geny was certain he had but merely responded with, “Very well.”
There had scarcely been time for a natural pause in the conversation when she had a sudden urge to leave—to walk around the asylum and see that all was in order, as much to get away from Mr. Dowling as to expend her nervous energy. A bold notion of how she might shake off Mr. Dowling struck her, and she seized it before thinking overmuch.
“If you will excuse me, I must meet with Mr. Rowles. A partof the stable wall is beginning to crumble opposite the chapel. I must bring it to his attention so he might have it repaired.”
“Allow me to perform the service for you, my lady,” he quickly replied.
This taxed her ingenuity for only the space it took her to remember that she was an earl’s daughter and needn’t ignore her own wishes out of a self-inflicted obligation to be polite.
“I thank you for your offer, but I will do it.”
Mr. Dowling stepped back as though he would give way and act like a sensible man. At the last minute, he held up his two hands in a cautionary gesture, thereby blocking her exit.
“If you will allow me to give you a word of warning, my lady. I am not sure how befitting it is for you to visit the stable in Mr. Rowles’s presence.” He glanced down the corridor, judging whether he might be overheard, before turning back to her and continuing in a lowered voice. “He is not a gentleman by birth, you see. And therefore, I think you ought to be cautious with him. Who knows what his code of conduct may be? One cannot predict the behavior of a man who is nothing but a commoner.”
Geny pressed her lips together and took a moment to control her annoyance. Mr. Dowling was a gentleman in name. He was the fifth son of an impoverished gentleman, and she privately thought that he had taken this position because no other was open to him. It certainly could not be out of interest in the cause that he did so, for he could scarcely perform his duties with less enthusiasm. She did not think his words deserved a reply, and so she waited.
“Besides,” he continued in a low pitch, “all I ever see him do is to look into the old account books. He hasn’t placed any orders or begun any new repairs. Where is the money Mr. Peyton is handing over to him? Not only does Mr. Rowles lack a gentlemanly status, he does not even behave like a steward. Perhaps we should approach Mr. Peyton with our concerns, for I have doubts that he is performing his role adequately.”
