Page 81 of The Mad Baron's Bride
“I am here now, Henry. You may tell them in the kitchen I have returned.”
She didn’t need to, because May was in her room with hot water for the basin and fresh cloths for her face and hands. She hovered, pretending to straighten and clean the already tidied room, while Grace herded Leda into the dressing room and made her stand on an old rug while she stripped off her filthy gown. Once bundled into a fresh shift and dressing gown, Grace shooed her into the bed, where May slid out the bed warmer with its coals and plumped the counterpane.
All three girls sat huddled on the windowsill, eyes wide as they watched Leda, while Mrs. Leech peeked around the door with a tray of treacle tart and tea.
Leda nestled against the pillows with a happy sigh and a hairbrush. “You might as well come in. All of you.”
“What happened, mum? You looked queer-like asmornum, an left in a pelter, an now you come home all a muckwash, like you was dredged from the sea.” Mrs. Leech doled out tarts.
“From a hill, actually.” Leda made a face as she tugged a tangle out of her hair. “I suppose you’ll want the whole of it, though I’m not certain your father would approve.”
“I give my permission.” Jack entered the room and took the upholstered chair, moving it close by the bed, then sitting and crossing one foot over his knees as if he meant to stay.
Before she had properly begun the girls settled themselves across the bed, perched like birds over the brocade counterpane. Ellinore leaned against the far post, sewing a ribbon. Nanette crept like a little cat to the pillow beside Leda and sat there, intently watching Leda’s face. Muriel sat against the other bed post and watched Leda steadily, eyes narrowed, her new doll cradled firmly in her arms. Mrs. Leech served them all treacle tart, her ears wide open, while Grace and May dawdled in the door of the dressing room, pretending to fold frocks.
They were all here, her new little family, and that bright, small window in her chest opened further. How could she ever leave them?
Leda said as much as she thought she could. How she married young to a man who had not been kind to her, who had a malicious nephew who wanted his land. How the day that his heir was born, the man was found murdered in his own library, and the magistrate thought Leda did it. How she was sent for a time to a madhouse, and then she left, and took work with Jack’s great aunt in Bath, and ended up here, in search of a governess. But her nephew followed her, and when she left earlier he had trailed her to the chalk pit, and one of the tunnels had caved in around him.
“An heir?” Grace said when Leda was finished. She moved a hand over her lower belly, where a slight bulge was forming beneath her apron. “Your babe? And you left him behind you, mum?”
Leda bit her lip and nodded. “I had to. I hid him away so Eustace wouldn’t learn about him. I feared what he might do, and as it happens, my fears were founded.”
“But he’ll be safe now, won’t he. Will you go back to your house? Now that you’re not mad?” Grace asked.
“I will have to set things in order after Eustace’s death,” Leda answered. “The property will go to Ives, I hope, for him to take over when he is of age.”
“So ye’ll be leaving us.”
“I hate to go, particularly when I have not finished my task. I have not found a governess.” Leda smiled at Nanette. “His lordship should have told me right away there weretwoof you. I would have adjusted my search accordingly.”
“Twee.” The girl pointed to Ellinore. They were unmistakably sisters, down to the shape of their faces, the set of their ears.
“Yes, three of you now. This will require some thought.”
The girl, though cautious, showed no fear of a stranger. She held up her dolly for Leda’s inspection, the little corn dolly that Muriel had treasured. “Judit,” she said in a serious tone.
Leda smiled. “Do you know, I thought the dolly was named Nanette. I suppose that was why it took me so long to figure things out. But I wonder. Why did they hide you from me, my pet?”
Jack shifted in his chair, rubbing tart from his fingertips. “You will think my reasons foolish, I suppose. But I’m hoping no one knows Nanette is here. That no one in the neighborhood knows she was even born.” He glanced at Muriel, then at Leda. “I don’t know who her father is, you see. I feared if he knew about her, he would take her away, or insist she be put somewhere because—well. They might say she is simple, or worse, because of what her mother did. And I simply couldn’t guess who the man was. Rolfe, or Styleman, or even Hogg—Anne-Marie didn’t visit, but she wasn’t a recluse. And she was very beautiful.”
Leda tamped down the pang of jealousy. Anne-Marie had been gifted with three children, three beautiful, gracefuldaughters, and she hadn’t clung to life for any of them. While Leda, who adored children, had been given none.
“Simple?” she questioned. “She’s understood me when I spoke to her.”
“Sometimes she do, and sometimes she pretend you never spoke a’tall. Here, mite.” Ellinore bit off the end of her thread and handed the scarlet ribbon to Nanette. “For Judith.”
With evident glee, Nanette crawled across the bed and accepted the gift. At once she began twining it around the corn dolly’s neck.
Muriel tapped the younger girl on the shoulder and stared intently into her face. “You’re to be kind to her, hear? No thacking her about or rough play.”
Nanette nodded, eyes wide, and began tying the ribbon more gently.
Leda, taken with a hunch, crooked a finger at the girl. “That is a pretty ribbon in your hair. May I see it?” She lured the girl close with a piece of tart and, as she took it, ran a hand over her dark curls. Then, quite deliberately, she snapped her fingers behind the girl’s left ear. Nanette didn’t turn a hair.
Leda smoothed the girl’s other braid and snapped behind her right ear. Nanette turned her head a shade, flicking curious eyes up at Leda, then back to her tart.
“She’s not simple,” Leda said. “She doesn’t hear well.”
