Mrs. Cadmore chuckled as if he had made a jest. “However excellent a governess, they are surely no substitute for a mother. When I think how that French chit up and deserted you without—”
“That was regrettable,” Rupert interrupted. Her mention of their late mother might not bother his daughters, but Mademoiselle Audet had only been gone a few months. Somehow it seemed a great deal longer. “But I have no fear of a repetition with Miss Ellerby.”
“I should think not!” The lady laughed again, even louder. “You were wise to hire such a plain mouse who would pose no danger of attracting secret suitors.”
What Mrs. Cadmore said was perfectly true, yet Rupert could not suppress a surge of defensiveness that rose within him.
Before he had a chance to say something he might regret, Sophie burst out, “Miss Ella isn’t a plain mouse! She’s—”
“What my sister means,” Charlotte broke in, “is that Miss Ellerby is a fine governess and we do not judge her upon her appearance.”
“Of course you don’t, my dears.” Mrs. Cadmore beamed at Charlotte and her sister, clearly unperturbed that they had intruded upon an adult conversation. “How charitable of you. That is not the sort of virtue a child learns from a hired teacher, no matter what other accomplishments she instills.”
Just then, Rupert wished he was up in the nursery eating an informal meal with his daughters and their governess. But duty demanded certain sacrifices and this was not such an onerous one.
Not inclined to abide any more subtle jabs at Miss Ellerby, he changed the subject to crops and weather, matters of mutual interest to their neighboring estates. After dinner had concluded, he and the girls bid their guests a good night. Then Phoebe ran off to visit the stables, as she had been promised as a reward for her good behavior. Sophie’s eyes were growing heavy so Rupert carried her up to bed while Charlotte walked along beside him.
“Papa,” she asked, “are you certain you only invited the Cadmores to be neighborly?”
His daughter’s question made Rupert uneasy, as if he were planning something shameful, when he was doing this for the benefit of Charlotte and her sisters.
“There is another reason,” he glanced down at Sophie who had already fallen asleep in his arms. “The fact is... I should like us all to become better acquainted with the Cadmores because... I believe it might be in everyone’s best interests to... unite our two families... eventually.”
“Unite?” Charlotte stopped abruptly. “You mean—?”
At that moment, the nursery door swung open and Miss Ellerby peeped out. “I thought I heard voices. Charlotte, what is the matter? You look ill!”
“It’s Papa.” The child dodged past her governess into the nursery. “He’s going to marry Mrs. Cadmore!”
Miss Ellerby’s mouth fell open and she stared at Rupert over the tops of her spectacles. Her air of disapproval made him more determined than ever to do what he must.
Chapter Nine
“MARRIED!” CHARLOTTE GROANED and rested her head upon a page of the book she was supposed to be reading during Monday morning lessons. Clearly the child had too much on her mind to concentrate on her studies. “Why does he have to get married again? We’re perfectly fine as we are.”
Since Saturday evening, the girls had talked constantly of their father’s plans whenever he was out of earshot. When he was nearby, they’d been stiff and guarded, as if expecting him to announce more bad news.
Since his lordship had returned to London, his daughters seemed determined to give the subject a thorough airing. Grace sensed that any attempt to turn their attention back to their studies would only prolong their preoccupation. It might be better if she let them vent their feelings then do her best to calm their fears. Not that it would be easy. She had her own misgivings about Lord Steadwell’s marriage plans.
Charlotte’s abrupt announcement of her father’s intentions toward Mrs. Cadmore had hit Grace like a hard blow to the belly. Perhaps it was because the situation reminded her of all the unhappiness her father’s remarriage had caused. She could not bear to think of her young pupils having to endure what she had. That must be why her heart ached a little with every beat.
In answer to Charlotte’s outburst, Grace set aside the story she’d been copying for Sophie and replied, “I know you dislike change. So do I. But it comes whether we like it or not. Each day we grow older. People are born, marry... die. Governments come and go. Wars are won or lost. Nothing stays the same forever except God’s love. All we can do is pray for strength to make the best of whatever comes.”
It was sound advice, learned from years of bitter experience. Yet even as she spoke, Grace felt her words rang hollow. It would be wrong for his lordship to marry Mrs. Cadmore, and all the prayers in the world could not make her accept such a great mistake with patient resignation.
“Besides,” she added before the girls could challenge her sincerity. “I thought you liked Mrs. Cadmore. You were so eager to visit Dungrove awhile back, remember?”
“I didn’t want to go because I like that woman.” Charlotte gave a mutinous scowl. “I wanted to get out for a visit. Anywhere would have done just as well. I wish I’d known she only invited us to worm her way into Papa’s affections.”
Though Grace knew it was her duty to deny the child’s suspicions, she could not for she had entertained the same doubts.
“I don’t know why Papa wants to marry her.” For once Phoebe seemed to care about something other than her pony. “I don’t believe he likes her very much.”
Grace could not dispute that either. “It is best when people marry for love. But sometimes there may be other reasons they believe are more important.”
“What other reasons?” Phoebe demanded.
“You would have to ask your father about that.”
“I tried,” Charlotte muttered. “He said I was too young to understand and he didn’t wish to discuss it with me. He seems to think this is none of our business.”
Phoebe slammed her book down. “If he marries Mrs. Cadmore, we will be the ones saddled with a stepmother. I should say that makes it our business.”
“Will Mrs. Cadmore be our stepmother?” Sophie’s lower lip began to quiver.
“Of course she will,” Phoebe snapped. “What did you suppose we’ve been on about all this time?”
Before Grace could reproach Phoebe for taking out her frustration on her little sister, Sophie wailed, “I don’t want a stepmother! She’ll make me clean the cinders and never let me go to parties!”
The child threw herself into Grace’s arms, sobbing.
“Hush now.” Grace stroked Sophie’s hair as she cast the two older girls a warning look. However anxious they might be about their father remarrying, it was no excuse for upsetting their sensitive little sister. “You know Mother Goose stories aren’t true. Pumpkins cannot turn into coaches or field mice into footmen.”