Deeply as her distress moved him, Rupert refused to believe Barbara Cadmore would behave toward his daughters as Grace Ellerby’s stepmother had toward her. Mrs. Cadmore was a devoted mother to her son as she surely would be to his girls and any future children. It was one of the qualities that had most recommended her to him. Besides, he had no intention of letting any harm come to him until his daughters were grown and he had sired a son to carry on at Nethercross.
Perhaps sensing his resistance, Miss Ellerby gathered her composure and continued. “My father was barely in his grave before my stepmother shipped me off to the Pendergast School. It is a wonder I did not die from grief and homesickness and the wretched conditions there.”
As she told him about the scarce, bad food; the cold and dampness; the harsh teachers and bullying older girls, Rupert’s jaw tensed and his face began to burn. He wished he could go back and whisk her away from that miserable institution. At the same time, he could not help admiring the strength with which she had carried on in the face of such unrelenting adversity. That must have been when she had developed her severe facade to protect the wounded child beneath. Yet everything she’d endured seemed only to have strengthened her character and faith.
“Did you never blame God for what happened to you?” he asked when she finished speaking and slumped in the chair, spent from the effort it had cost her. “Did you never feel He had abandoned you?”
It was an intrusive question, but he knew she might never be willing to confide in him so fully again. And he had an urgent need to hear her answer.
She thought for a moment, perhaps searching her heart for the feelings he had mentioned. Then Grace Ellerby shook her head. “Faith and friendship were all that sustained me during those dark days. I took great comfort from the certainty that our Heavenly Father does not judge by outward appearances, as other do, but can see past that to beauty of the spirit.”
Rupert did not believe she was referring to him when she spoke of people judging by appearance. Yet his conscience troubled him for failing to look deeper to the strong, fine woman she was at heart. He reminded himself that if it were not for her drab appearance, he might never have brought her into his home and permitted the comradeship between them to grow as close as it had. That would have been a grave misfortune for him and for his daughters.
Seeing him grow so thoughtful must have given Miss Ellerby hope. “Has hearing of my experiences persuaded you to reconsider your decision, sir?”
Much as he hated to disappoint her, Rupert could not deceive her. “I am sorry that you have distressed yourself in vain, but I am as determined as ever to proceed with my plans.”
After all she had put herself through, Miss Ellerby deserved an explanation. “You must see that my daughters’ situation is quite different from yours. I believe the potential benefits of my remarriage, to them and to Nethercross, outweigh any risk.”
He spoke in a firm tone to assure her of his resolve in the matter. The sooner she accepted the inevitable, the better it would be for his daughters. At the same time, he strove to infuse his words with warmth so she would know he did not resent her for making the effort.
“I appreciate that you want to protect my daughters from what you consider a threat. But I believe the kindest service you can do is to help them understand why I must remarry and urge them to accept it. Can I rely on you to do that, for their sake and for mine?”
“I will try, sir.” A faint sigh escaped her. “That is the best I can promise you.”
Rupert patted her hand, which had come to rest on the arm of the chair. “That will be good enough for me.”
Would it, though? He sensed that Miss Ellerby was still not convinced he was doing the right thing. He feared that when it came to his daughters’ well-being, their unassuming governess might be almost as stubborn as he.
“Can you try speaking to Papa again, Miss Ella?” Charlotte pleaded as she and her sisters practiced sketching in the garden on a sunny afternoon late in May.
“He’s been to visit her every week since the end of April.” Phoebe frowned at her sketching pad. “If we don’t put a stop to it soon, I’m afraid he will propose to her. Then there will be nothing we can do.”
Grace gave a rueful shrug. “I would try if I thought it might do any good. But you know better than I, your father can be a very stubborn man. Especially when he believes he is acting in the best interests of those he loves.”
She had kept her promise to his lordship by explaining his reasons for wanting to remarry and trying to persuade the girls to accept the situation. But they seemed no more inclined to heed her than their father was. It could not help that they seemed to sense her misgivings.
“If he won’t listen to you, then we must take drastic action,” Charlotte announced.
“I know!” said Phoebe. “Why don’t we invite Mrs. Cadmore to Nethercross while Papa is in London and behave abominably? We could run about and pretend to quarrel at the top of our lungs. Then she won’t want to marry Papa and have to live with us.”
“We could throw food at teatime,” suggested Sophie, entering into the spirit of her sister’s plan, “and slide down the stairs on a big silver tray. I’ve always wanted to do that!”
“No!” Grace burst out before Charlotte could suggest further misbehavior. “You must not think of such a thing! Your father would be very cross with you when he learned what you had done. And you do not want to prejudice Mrs. Cadmore against you in case she does become your stepmother. She could make your lives quite miserable.”
“Let her try,” grumbled Charlotte. “Papa would not allow it.”
Grace trusted Lord Steadwell to protect the girls as much as he could. “If she stayed at Nethercross through the week while your father went to London, you would be at her mercy for five days out of seven.”
Sophie dropped her sketching pencil and ran to Grace. “You won’t let her be cruel to us, will you, Miss Ella?”
It had taken weeks to persuade the child that her future stepmother would not force her to sweep the cinders and sleep in the cellar.
“Of course not.” Grace caught Sophie in a comforting embrace. “But if you behave as badly as Phoebe suggested, Mrs. Cadmore might persuade you father to dismiss me because I’d let you run wild.”
“I hadn’t thought of that,” Phoebe conceded. “If we must have a stepmother, we do not want to lose you, Miss Ella.”
The girl’s features clenched in a look of intense concentration, then after a moment she snapped her fingers. “I know! What if we tell Mrs. Cadmore that Papa drinks a great deal of brandy? I heard our cook tell Bessie no sensible woman would marry a man who drinks.”
Charlotte shook her head. “I couldn’t tell such lies about Papa.”
Phoebe crumpled onto the grass. “What can we do then?”
“We must keep thinking.” Charlotte tried to encourage her.
“In the meantime,” Grace suggested, “you might as well put your sketching materials away. It does not appear to be holding your interest. Perhaps a game of pall mall would suit you better.”