The Virtuous Ward

CHAPTER Two


"Remind me to keep my hands quiet and a still tongue in my head," Amity cried, wriggling on the carriage seat. "It's all so exciting but I must admit I am a trifle nervous. How will I remember all the lessons on proper etiquette, Muffin?"

Receiving only a snore in reply, Endurance Amity Fraser turned to stare out the carriage window. Not that she ever thought of herself as Endurance. She much preferred her second name and had adopted it for her own. Sometimes it was difficult to respond since no one at Beech House ever called her anything but Endurance. Amity thought the name sounded like some squinty-eyed spinster who would wear drab bombazine and a look of martyrdom etched on her face.

She grinned as the carriage hit a particularly nasty pothole, jolting her companion on the seat. The additional movement had little effect on the sleeper and, with a sniff of annoyance, Amity let her thoughts wander to her coming meeting with her guardian. Perhaps in eleven years she had changed enough to find favor in his eyes. She was too aware that she could never claim to be a beauty. Red hair, freckles and pale white skin on a tall frame were not in vogue, Amity thought, wrinkling her tip-tilted nose in dismay. She could but hope that she would make a better impression on him than she had the first time.

Amity could remember her one and only interview with her guardian. The evening of her parents' funeral, after all the mourners had left, she had been called to the library to meet with Lord Max. Although she had seen him during the day, there had been so many people milling around the manor house that she had not spoken to him except to receive his condolences.

Closing her eyes, Amity could bring back the scene in the library with total clarity. Max had been sitting at her father's desk, dressed in his funeral black, face composed into the expected sober lines. He had looked up when she entered the room as though he expected her to break into tears or fall down in a fit. Amity recalled forcing herself to remain expressionless although inside she was quaking with fear and loneliness. She would have liked nothing better than to curl up on his lap and place her head on his chest and feel the warmth of his arms around her. Perhaps if he had been older, but Max was a young man forced to take on the responsibility of a ten year old girl. He would be embarrassed at such a display of emotion. So Amity had composed her expression and waited with anticipation for him to explain his plans for her.

As Max surveyed her from her flyaway red curls to her scuffed half boots, Amity could see equal parts of disappointment and distaste mirrored in the green depths of his eyes. She had straightened her spine and shrugged away the suspicion of tears that threatened to rain down her cheeks. By her bravery alone she hoped to prove her worthiness. But all her stratagems were to no avail. She would have no new home. Max was leaving her at Beech House where she had been born and had lived for ten years.

After Max became her guardian, and despite her original disappointment, Amity began to hope that her life would change for the better. For two years she had looked forward to Christmas when she assumed that he would invite her to his home residence so she might partake of the festivities among family and friends. There had been no invitation, just a holiday-wrapped box of books. As the third Christmas arrived she had buried her hopes, determined to create her own memories instead of depending on others. From then on she was able to open, without anger or frustration, the box of books Max sent as a suitable present. She found amusement in his choice of self-improvement books and chuckled at their reading.

Aside from the Christmas books, never once in the last eleven years had she received a letter, a gift or a visit from her guardian. All instructions as to her care and education were sent to Mrs. Dimwittier, the housekeeper, and thus to the current governess who passed on what information she thought proper to Amity. At first Amity had been hurt but, never prone to self-pity, she eventually realized that a young man would have little in common with a child. Yet it would have been nice if he had taken just a little bit of an interest in her.

"What a time to sleep, Muffin. I could use someone to talk to," Amity muttered in exasperation.

The recipient of these words, lifted sleepy lids for a brief moment, then sighed heavily and drifted off again. The young girl made a moue of annoyance and returned to her examination of the rolling countryside.

Once Amity realized there was no one who cared for her, she had taken control of her life. She no longer expected love so she was free to make friends without fear of rejection. She was surrounded by servants and she talked with them, unfettered by the conventions and taboos of society. She made friends in the village and over the years met nothing but kindness. Innately curious and impetuous, her days were happily occupied with studies, reading and friends on the estate or in the village.

Only in her dreams, did she yearn for a different life. She desired a real home with a husband and a child of her own. And she dreamed of Max. She did not blame him for leaving her at Beech House. She understood that he was too busy to be bothered about her but she wished it had been otherwise. For years Amity dreamed that he would return and rescue her from her bleak existence. A knight on a ferocious, white charger saving the damsel in distress.

Amity snorted at her ridiculous fancies and felt a return of the nervous flutter in the region of her stomach at the thought of her journey's end. She listened to the rhythm of the carriage horses, fearful that one of the beasts might be going lame, but the noble cattle drew her towards her new home and a guardian she had only seen once.

"Come on, Muffin, you lazy slug. Wake up," Amity muttered, elbowing her companion. When this tactic had little effect, she leaned over and whispered. "I'll help you look for cats. And maybe even a rabbit."

Thus tempted, Amity's companion, an enormous brown dog of unknown and highly suspect origin yawned, his great tongue arching upward between neat rows of white teeth. He stretched all four legs and emitted a low rumbling moan before he turned his head toward his mistress. Muffin's eyelids raised and he stared at Amity through soulful pools of brown.

"What a lump you are," Amity said as she hugged her friend, nuzzling one floppy ear. "Ever since we got in the coach this morning you've been sleeping. Besides we're almost there. Coachman said it would be another half hour."

Thus reminded of their imminent arrival, Amity bit her lip, feeling the jolt of her accelerated heartbeat. She pushed the huge dog off her lap and brushed at the clumps of dog hair left behind. Then reaching up, she untied the blue ribbon that confined her hair at the nape of her neck. As usual a cloud of the bright red curls had escaped and were billowing around her cheeks. She raked her fingers through the shimmering mass of waist-length hair and retied the ribbon.

"My reticule! My gloves!" she wailed, searching the carriage.

She found the reticule at last beneath the plain poke bonnet, which she jammed on her head, but after a hurried hunt, could not find her mittens. She remembered removing them at the last stop and accepted the sad fact that she would have to arrive at her destination with bare hands. The reticule was dusty and she grasped the strings and smacked it against the squabs sending up clouds of dust. Muffin inhaled and sneezed so heartily that the movement propelled the dog upright, where he sat, eyes wide open and black nose aquiver. When Amity giggled at the dog's expression, he looked so offended that she burst into a loud whoop of laughter. Thus Amity and Muffin arrived at Edgeworth.

When the liveried footman pulled down the stairs and opened the door, he was confronted by the laughing countenance of a redheaded girl and a low growl from her companion. He backed away, bowing as he said, "Welcome to Edgeworth, Miss Fraser."

From a safe distance, the footman surveyed the young lady. Told to expect Lord Kampford's ward, he had been picturing a small child not this young woman. There was still a hint of youthful awkwardness in her movements, but like a young colt, thoroughbred lines were apparent. Her body was tall and slight but rounded to a nicety; her hands and feet were small and elegant. She wore a carriage dress and matching cape in a muted blue color that was well made and sensible rather than the height of fashion.

The young footman extended his hand but the young lady bounded out of the coach without assistance. Her freckled face was still flushed with laughter and her white teeth flashed in an open smile that quite won the heart of the boy.

"Thank you for the greeting. I'm so glad to be here at last," Amity said, her voice still bubbling with amusement. Then with a swirl of cape she turned back to the coach to fetch her friend. "Out, Muffin."

The dog remained upright on the seat, looking in no hurry to leave the comfortable confines of the carriage for unknown, and possibly unwelcome, surroundings.

"Come on, you great looby," Amity hissed, glancing in embarrassment at the footman. In explanation, she said, "Muffin is rather shy, uh... ."

"Peter, Miss," the boy answered bobbing his head in greeting. "It takes some that way. Would you like me to fetch him?"

Since Muffin had begun to growl again, there was a slight hesitancy in the footman's voice. Catching his less than eager offe Amity said, "Thank you, Peter, but he's more used to me."

Amity scrambled up the stairs and grasped a handful of fur at Muffin's neck. With her hip she shoved the dog off the seat and half-dragged, half-carried the reluctant visitor to the carriage sweep. Peter shifted nervously but, pluck to the bone, he extended his open palm for the inspection of the huge dog. Muffin sniffed once then extended his tongue and licked the footman's hand.

"Muffin approves, Peter. And he's very particular about his friends." Amity smiled at the relieved look on the footman's face but in an instant it had changed to red-faced embarrassment. Turning, she was unabashed to discover the dog had given in to an urgent call of nature. Lowering her voice she said to the footman, " Muffin usually behaves with more discretion, although I suspect my guardian will not be best pleased to have the wheels of his carriage abused in such a fashion."

Peter smothered a laugh, amazed at the matter-of-fact way the young lady spoke of the subject. There seemed to be nothing hoity-toity about his lordship's ward and he resolved to help her when he could.

Amity called to the dog and then her eyes shifted to the imposing facade of the great house and she shivered, intimidated by the grandeur of the estate. In a tentative voice she said, "Well, I suppose I better go in."

Reminded of his duties Peter stiffened to attention, extending his hand in the direction of the opened double doors. Under his breath, he blurted, "Cartwright will have my head, miss, for keeping you jawing on the very steps."

"I suppose that's the very starchy butler I see waiting inside," Amity whispered.

"Aye, Miss Fraser. Him and the housekeeper, Mrs. Trilby, will be greeting you, proper-like."

"Sounds awful," Amity moaned, earning a wink of encouragement from the boy before he turned back to the coach and the other footmen who were struggling to remove her trunks from the boot.

Shifting her reticule to her left hand, she grasped a great chunk of Muffin's hair and hauled the dog up the shallow stone steps and in at the huge carved doorway. Her blue eyes widened at the line of servants spread across the marble foyer and she released the dog, wiping her hand surreptitiously on her skirt. A flush rose to her cheeks but bracing her shoulders she stepped forward to address the impressive figure at the head of the line.

Before she could speak, the butler clicked his heels and inclined his upper body in greeting. "Welcome to Edgeworth, Miss Fraser."

"Thank you, Cartwright. I'm very pleased to be here," Amity said, extending her hand to the startled butler who shook it as though handling stolen goods.

"This is the housekeeper, Mrs. Trilby." Cartwright indicated a plump, matron whose work-roughened hands gripped her ring of keys.

"I'm very glad to meet you, Mrs. Trilby." Amity smiled at the woman who responded with a tentative smile of her own.

"If you'd be kind enough to follow me, Miss Fraser," the housekeeper said.

Amity hesitated, knowing that the household's first impression of her was very important. As always, she responded to instinct and placed a detaining hand on the older woman's arm. "If it's all right, Mrs. Trilby, I'd like to meet the others first so that I can begin sorting out names."

The housekeeper's mouth opened but no words came forth and in desperation the woman turned for instruction. Cartwright, more used to the idiosyncrasies of the gentry, coughed. The line of servants snapped to attention. Punctiliously the starchy butler introduced each of the members of the downstairs brigade, while Amity smiled and shook hands, wondering all the while how she would ever remember all of their names. They had just reached Jem, the pot scrubber, when the boy's shoulders began to shake with barely controlled laughter.

Amity had been aware of Muffin's cringing presence as she walked down the line. However she had tried to ignore him in order to maintain her dignity. Now at the touch of a cold nose on her leg she realized the dog had gone to extreme measures to gain reassurance. Turning, she looked down at the shaggy beast whose head was hidden beneath her skirts. She could feel the hot color washing across her face and she grasped Muffin's fur and tugged as her booted foot nudged his nose. Great soulful brown eyes peered up at her and she dropped to her knees to hug the dog.

"I'm afraid Muffin is as nervous as I am, coming to our new home," Amity apologized to the ring of interested faces.

There was a murmur of low-voiced encouragement before Cartwright extended his hand to help Amity to her feet. She murmured her gratitude as she and Muffin, followed Mrs. Trilby to the stone steps that swept up one side of the main hall. In her exhausted state she could not begin to focus on the myriad portraits that lined the stairs and the hallways they traversed. When the housekeeper stopped in front of a carved oak doorway, Amity sighed with relief.

"Lord Kampford said you were to have this room, miss."

As the door swung open, Amity emitted another sigh, this time of deep contentment and tiptoed across the exquisite oriental carpet. The room was square except for one corner where a rounded wall of windows jutted out from the building. On the one side she could look out at the rambling rooftops that towered above her and, on the other side, the gardens were spread out for her view. The four poster was hung with a billow of white material stitched with tiny violets. The windows were swathed in the same fabric and the walls were covered with a pale lilac silk. Whirling she turned to the housekeeper.

"I've never seen such a beautiful room, Mrs. Trilby. I know I shall be very happy here."

The housekeeper's face softened at the glowing look of the young girl. She was like a breath of spring, blowing through the old hall. It reminded her of how it used to be when Lord Max's mother was alive. For ten years there had been no laughter within the cold stonewalls of Edgeworth. A shadow crossed the older woman's face and she cleared her throat before she was able to speak.

"Will your abigail be following you, miss?" Mrs. Trilby asked.

"No, she, uh." Amity hesitated, unwilling to lie. "I didn't have an abigail to bring. You see, I've never had one."

"Never, miss?" The housekeeper looked astounded at this information but quickly recovered and ventured a suggestion. "Never mind, Miss Fraser. I'll take care of everything. While you're here, Emily's the girl for you. Good-hearted as a nanny for all that she's twenty. Has a brain in her head and a magical way with hair."

"She sounds wonderful," Amity said in relief.

"Of course, I'll have to ask his lordship's permission," the housekeeper reminded the young girl, "but I'm sure he'll agree to the arrangement. For now, miss, why don't you take a little lie-down and I'll send Emily up in time to get you ready for dinner."

"Thank you, Mrs. Trilby. For all your kindness," she said to the startled woman who blushed, bobbed a curtsy and exited with a surprised look in her eye.

As she closed the door after the housekeeper, Amity looked around the room for Muffin. The lumbering beast had taken possession of the chaise longue along one wall. The brown fur looked ludicrous against the lilac and silver satin, but Muffin appeared contented with his long pointed muzzle resting atop a fringed throw pillow. Amity kicked off her half boots on her way to the bed and sank onto the counterpane, unable to exert the energy necessary to undress. Snuggling into the pillows, she closed her eyes, delighted that the bed did not buck and heave like the motion of the carriage.

Sleep evaded her as her mind began to wonder what the evening ahead would bring. She had been surprised that Lord Max had not met her himself. As her guardian, Amity thought he might have extended the courtesy. But then she knew so little of the ways of the upper classes despite the fact she had been born into their ranks. In fact she knew almost nothing about her guardian. From things her governesses had said, Amity had learned that Lord Maxwell Kampford, was heir to a vast fortune. He owned a house in London and several large estates but Edgeworth was his preferred residence. From things left unsaid, she gathered that he was considered a prime catch on the marriage market but preferred his relationships among the muslin trade. For the rest she would have to wait and see what his sudden interest in her meant.

Lord Kampford's letter had arrived out of the blue and Amity was thrilled to discover her presence was requested at Edgeworth. Although the missive contained no specific information, there was much speculation at Beech House. While the servants and her latest governess/companion Miss Endicott packed her clothing, Amity met with the estate manager to prepare him for her absence. She had great faith in Henderson and knew he would care for the estate much as he always had. While Amity finished her packing, Miss Endicott fed her a continuous stream of strictures and aphorisms in a vain attempt to make up for any lapses in her pupil's education.

Amity was consumed by curiosity over Lord Maxwell's summons. She had assumed he had forgotten her existence and wondered what this reminder of his authority portended. She suspected he had decided she was of marriageable age and wished to discuss his plans for her. Although she might desire him to take a personal interest in her, her practical nature convinced her that Lord Max merely wanted to marry her off. She expected nothing else.

Amity knew from her childhood that it was useless to expect much. When she was quite young she had expected that her parents would love her. Afterwards it was borne in on her that her mother, dubbed "Goddess Divine" by the London dandies, was ashamed of her unbeautiful child. Her father was not fond of children. And of course she was a girl. He saw her as a means to make a favorable alliance, thus adding to his own consequence.

Her parents disinterest in her, combined with Max's neglect after their deaths, forced her to depend on herself for enjoyment. Another child might have viewed the world with a jaundiced eye, but Amity found much pleasure in her solitary life. She had a keen sense of humor and a deep well of curiosity which helped her to find joy in the smallest incidents of her life. Once she had discovered that she was responsible for her own happiness and as a consequence had grown into a cheerful and trusting person.

Amity flopped over on her back, staring up at the fluffy canopy. She was sure she was too excited to sleep. She thought about all the new experiences that awaited her and she wanted to shout in anticipation. The library at Beech House had been filled with books about London. Her curiosity had been whetted in the long bleak winter evenings as she read of the wonders of the city. Although she had been happy enough at her parents' home she had been starved of people to exchange ideas with and places to feed her desire for knowledge. There was a whole world waiting for her and she was anxious to grasp it.

Muffin moaned and snuffled, no doubt dreaming of rabbits he could chase. Amity sighed as her mind drifted into sleep.