Page 5 of A Gentleman's Reckoning
“I have a piece of chalk for each of you to use today,” she announced, and the children looked at each other with shy smiles of awe. This was why she loved them so much. Six was such a sweet age, and every day she delighted in the fact that they were safe in the orphanage and would hopefully never know hunger or want again.
They began.
Tyger! Tyger! burning bright.
In the forest of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?
They faltered often,but she smiled her encouragement and urged them on. Mrs. Hastings did not approve of her teaching them poetry, and it was true that they needed nothingmore than the simple ability to read and write, and to learn a trade. But it was much easier to entice them to learn a string of words if they realized that the string revealed something interesting. And if she had thought Jack to be the only one interested in Mr. Blake’s poem, she was proven wrong. Even Samantha pronounced all theS’sandth’swith gusto, ignoring her lisp.
They went from reciting to writing their letters, and Geny lost track of the time. She was only brought back to it by the appearance of Mr. Dowling in the doorway.
“Lady Eugenia,” he greeted, before stepping into the room and bowing. He turned to the children. “You will find that there is soup for you in the dining hall. You may go and eat it now.” The children scrambled to their feet, preparing to leave, but he put up a hand. “Do not forget to take leave of Lady Eugenia.”
At their looks of chagrin, she sent them a reassuring smile and reached for the basket. “You must not go off without taking the warm stockings Miss Buxton and I have knitted for you.”
“Lor’, miss.” Samantha’s eyes grew wide as she looked at the stockings Geny held in her hands. She corrected herself hastily. “Lor’, my lady.”
“Do not say, ‘lor’,’ Samantha. You must simply say, ‘thank you, my lady.’ Here is your pair of stockings. And here are yours.” She handed one to each of them, including a gray pair for Jack. “Put them in your boxes with your other articles. Mrs. Hastings knows I am to give them to you, so your house maid and master will not be surprised to see them there.”
With enthusiastic expressions of thanks, they ran off cradling their treasures, and she turned to Mr. Dowling. “I could not let them continue in the ripped and dirty stockings they have on now.”
“Of course you could not. You are much too kind, my lady.” He looked at her fondly, which always caused her to grow tense. She knew he harbored feelings for her, although he never went above his station and gave them voice. She was grateful for thisreserve, for she did not return those feelings. She had long suspected he had merely taken the role in the asylum because of the earl’s connection to it rather than any charitable instincts.
He turned to walk beside her. “The new steward has arrived.”
“Yes, we have met.” She glanced at Mr. Dowling. “What do you think of him?”
He went silent for a moment as he knit his brows. “I find him to be a puzzle. Why would he leave such a distinguished position only to accept one here? It is unusual.”
“I agree,” she said. Then, out of a strange reluctance to alienate Mr. Rowles without giving him a chance—or to align herself too closely with Mr. Dowling—she went on. “However, it is not unusual for a man to wish to serve in some capacity for a benevolent organization. He said he has personal reasons for doing so, and I will give him the benefit of the doubt.”
“You are very gracious, my lady,” Mr. Dowling said, attempting to catch her eye. She kept hers trained forward. “You need not fear, however. If there is anything out of the ordinary, I will surely discover it and bring it to your attention.”
“Thank you.” Geny’s reply was clipped. It was just this sort of thing that made her keep Mr. Dowling at arm’s length, despite their acquaintance that was above two years. In him was a mix of condescension and obsequiousness that bothered her—such as hinting that she required his assistance on any matter concerning the asylum workers. She did not.
They climbed the stairs to the cluster of offices where she would retrieve her pelisse before returning to her home on Upper Brook Street, and he would go on for his midday meal. Perhaps it was to put Mr. Dowling in his place that she did so, but Geny stopped in front of the doorway to the steward’s office. Mr. Rowles looked up from the ledger he was reading, and when he saw her, quickly stood.
“I am leaving, Mr. Rowles,” she said. “I hope you find yourfirst day to your liking.” The beat of silence that followed was one of surprise, evident in his eyes. She had surprised herself.
“Thank you.” He bowed. “I am certain I will. Good day, my lady.”
She smiled and turned away, acknowledging Mr. Dowling with a nod from where he had paused at the entrance to his own office. “Good day, Mr. Dowling.”
She moved at a sedate pace, retrieving her pelisse and bonnet and going down to the courtyard, although there was something in her that wanted to run. She rarely had that urge now that she was a woman grown, but there it was, urging her in her breast the entire way down the steps.Hurry! Leave! Before even you know what it is you are feeling.
Chapter Two
John stared after the departing figure of Lady Eugenia and then at the empty doorway once she had gone. It had been a shock to discover that she volunteered at the earl’s charity. After having raised the capital to begin the foundling asylum, Lord Goodwin had tapered off his involvement. Following the death of Lady Goodwin, it had dwindled to nothing. The light digging John had done into the institution had been enough to tell him that. But no one had thought to mention that the earl’s daughter spent her time assisting at the orphanage, and apparently did so on a regular basis.
That had been his first shock. His second had been the cordial way in which she had taken leave of him. She had not been so during their brief interview, and the last thing he expected was for her to return and bid him farewell. John had taken her for the frigid sort, especially after having learned she was Lord Goodwin’s daughter. He should have known her parentage from the moment he had first set eyes on her. She had an air of her father, particularly in her bearing. And although she had still appeared cold when she bid him farewell, the action was not of one who had nofiner feelings.
He brought his eyes back to the ledgers in front of him. At last, he had achieved his ambition to secure a place in the orphanage the Earl of Goodwin had established seven years hence. It was a start toward repairing his reputation with thetonand had only taken five months to bring into effect. After having witnessed the earl’s meeting with the courier that ill-fated morning, he had correctly read the expression in Lord Goodwin’s eyes:If you indeed overheard what I think you did, then you had best keep it to yourself, or there will be consequences.Well, John had been foolish enoughnotto keep it to himself. No, what had he done? He abandoned his idea of driving to his brother’s estate and instead returned to London. The very next day, he had gone straight to Lord Perkins’s house to disclose what he had seen.
Lord Perkins believed the assurances of his friend the peer, of course, not some young upstart who was nothing but a commoner. The rejection had not been immediate, but John felt the frost of it even before the invitations began to drop off. And then, not only did Parliament shoot down the proposed bill to raise steam duty taxes, there was a post-war boom in trade that led to high profit margins for those who invested in steam-powered machines. So Lord Goodwin’s evil intentions of pawning off bad investments were never exposed. Instead, he loudly regretted having sold off thirty percent of his investment and looked upon others with a saintly expression of regret—and had John shunned from society. White’s was the first to inform him that he would not be welcome there. Boodle’s was next. And then two of his friends gave him the cut direct on Bond Street. Lord Stuart had already left for his estate, and John hadn’t dared to seek him out to see what reception he might receive from him. Stuart was the highest-ranking of his friends and the biggest stickler for goodton.
