Читать книгу A Practical Partnership - Lily George - Страница 11

Chapter Two

“I daresay you’ll enjoy meeting my sister-in-law, even though she can be a little trying,” Paul Holmes muttered from his place by the hearth. “She’s got a fine head for business, but it’s difficult to get her to talk about much else. You won’t find her much of a dinner partner.”

John shrugged. He didn’t really want to spoil the surprise by telling Paul about meeting Miss Siddons earlier in the day. No, it would be much more fun to play dumb until she walked back in the door. “Why won’t she talk about much else?” He might as well find out a little more about her while they were waiting for her to arrive. It would, at least, distract them from the real purpose of his visit. Learning how to be a proper master was certainly no stroll down Rotten Row.

“I spent some time with Nan and with my wife, Becky, before even Susannah and Daniel were wed. Picnics, games, that kind of sport. Nan’s all right. A bit practical, mind you, but a good girl of a fine Christian family. Of course, my mind is always taken up with my wife—even before I knew I was in love with Becky, I spent as much time with her as I could.”

“Even to the point of hiring her as your niece’s nursemaid?” John couldn’t suppress a roguish grin.

Paul eyed him sharply over the rim of his teacup. “Watch yourself, man. As I said, the Siddonses are above reproach, particularly where the finer points of morality are concerned.”

“I don’t intend to imply anything unseemly. Beg pardon.” John choked back his gleeful grin. It never failed to amuse him that he’d discovered Paul’s feelings for Becky before the man himself knew them to be true.

“As I was saying,” Paul continued, with the air of a man being robbed of all patience, “I concentrated my thoughts upon Becky. Susannah was, of course, already spoken for by Daniel. Nan was a bit of a gooseberry, I suppose. She is younger, too, than her sisters. I suppose she maintains her pretense of practicality, and devotes herself to her work, as a way of proving herself worthy.”

“Worthy of what?” John desperately wished for a before-dinner sherry, but there was not a drop to be had at Kellridge Hall. Now that Paul had changed his entire life around and found, as he said, the Lord, anything that led to debauchery had been banned from the Hall, including liquor.

“I don’t know exactly what. All I can tell you is that Nan is seeking to prove herself just as her sisters did before her. She lacks Susannah’s fire and Becky’s beauty and grace. But there’s a charm about her all the same, for all her plainspokenness. Once, Daniel told me that the Siddons girls work on a man like a tonic. I vow it must be true.” Paul broke off as the door opened and his lovely wife, Becky, entered the parlor. Both men rose to greet her.

“Whatever are you two men talking about?” Becky stood on tiptoe to peck her husband’s cheek, and the sudden movement revealed the thickening about her middle. Paul would be a father soon, and he would be a good one, too. A rush of inexplicable emotion washed over John, leaving him feeling—of all things—envious. Paul was an excellent master, and a stalwart husband. He had taken in his niece, Juliet, as his ward, and was as good to her as a father would be. In a matter of months, he would become a father again by Becky, and would do credit to those duties, as well.

What of it? John shrugged his shoulders, irritated by these thoughts. Paul never came to the gaming tables any longer, or squired women of ill repute around to dubious locations in London. Surely he missed that sort of fun.

John watched hungrily as Becky patted her husband on the shoulder. What would it feel like, being that beloved by someone? “Jane and I are waiting for both of you. Why don’t you come join us in the little parlor off the dining room? Daniel and Susannah will be here in a matter of moments.”

It was not lost on John that she failed to mention Nan, too. Nan Siddons was, it seemed, truly a lost member of her own family—forgotten and neglected.

Yet, he was anticipating her arrival much more keenly than any other person in her party. Would she pretend not to recognize him? Would she join with him in witty repartee? Would her personality be any different than it had been when they met earlier in the day?

He rose and followed his host and hostess out of the room. Kellridge Hall was not as grand a home as his own Grant Park, but it was well run and graciously appointed. Paul ruled the household with a firm hand, that much was certain. Nothing ever seemed out of place at Kellridge. That was why John sought him out. No man could give better advice on the running of a vast estate—something that other fellows seemed born to do. Perhaps, once matters at Grant Park were well in hand, he could leave it behind for months at a time, and continue his roguish ways in London. That was how Paul had managed his life—well, before he met Becky.

As they passed by the front hall, the butler opened the door. A decidedly irritated-looking Nan Siddons marched in, yanking on her bonnet strings.

“Nan!” Becky broke away from her husband and trotted over to embrace her sister. “So good to see you.”

Nan patted her sister’s back and then said, her voice low and urgent, “I need to talk to you and to Susannah. I’ve some news about the shop.”

“The shop can wait,” Becky replied with a little laugh. “We have guests. Mr. John Reed, may I present my sister, Nan Siddons.” She waved her arm in John’s general direction.

Nan nodded and bobbed the slightest of curtsies. Her eyes flashed, and her brows drew together. He cast his most charming smile her way, and bowed deeply. There was something about the spark in her eyes that he wanted to investigate further. His initial suspicion was correct. Nan Siddons could be jolly good fun if she’d let herself go a bit.

“Yes, I know Mr. Reed. I met him today, and will be making a bonnet for his sister.” Nan turned as Susannah and Daniel came through the doorway.

Any sensation Nan’s response might have stirred up was drowned out by her eldest sister’s arrival. Susannah commanded the attention of everyone in the hallway, kissing her sisters, curtsying to John, ordering Daniel about and chiding Paul for what she perceived as the lack of proper maintenance on the curving path that led up to the front gates of Kellridge Hall. This, of course, raised Paul’s ire, and John watched as Becky, Paul, Daniel and Susannah drifted down the hallway, engrossed in loud conversation.

Nan stood with her bonnet dangling uselessly from one hand. “Now I’ll never get the chance,” she muttered fiercely.

“I beg your pardon?” John drew closer to her side. She looked both angry and deflated.

Nan turned to him, as though surprised he was still there. “I had rather hoped to speak to my sisters about a pressing matter of business, but it appears I will have no opportunity to do so.”

He offered her his elbow. “Perhaps we should join them?”

Nan shook her head and cast her bonnet onto the polished mahogany table nearby. “You may go in without me. I need a moment to collect myself.”

“You really should allow yourself to have more fun, you know,” he chided gently. “Why not talk about business matters some other time?”

Nan rounded on him, her blue eyes darkening to black. “Fun? If my business crashes because the village shopkeeper has hired a French milliner, do you know what kind of fun I shall have? I shall be nothing. I’ll be reduced to the status of spinster aunt, living in one of my sisters’ homes. This has absolutely nothing whatsoever to do with my perceived lack of a personality, and everything to do with my sisters’ refusal to help me in my time of need!” She paused, drawing in her breath deeply.

“Oh.” He felt like the worst sort of joker. Her anguish was real and profound and he had clumsily teased her at the worst possible time. “Perhaps I can be of assistance?”

“Not unless you know how to keep a business from failing.” She offered him a wan smile. Her outburst seemed to have calmed her nerves. Her eyes lost some of their hunted look, and her movements were graceful and fluid once more. “I suppose we should go in,” she added with a sigh.

He offered her his arm once again. “I promise I shall give your problem serious thought. Perhaps I can come up with a solution. Stranger things have happened, you know.”

She took his arm, her fingers resting lightly on the crook of his elbow. “Forgive me. I shouldn’t have said anything. It’s not very nice to let a potential client know that your business may be on the verge of collapse,” she admitted. Her tone was neutral enough, but a thread of sadness ran through it.

“Not at all,” he admitted. “If anything, I appreciate your honesty.”

She glanced up at him, the tight lines in her face relaxing. She was a pretty thing in her own right. All these Siddons girls were lovely. Why was she so certain she was destined for spinsterhood? Her sisters had made brilliant matches of their own, even without a fortune or family to back them. Surely some fellow around here would take a second look at her.

* * *

Nan listlessly poked at the food on her plate as her dinner companions talked and joked around her. Everyone, even shy Jane, seemed to be enjoying themselves. Every time she took a bite, though, the chicken tasted like sawdust and a lump rose in her throat. If she couldn’t get her sisters’ attention long enough to discuss the problem of the French milliner, then she would have to go home and give vent to a good, long sob. No one knew about the tears that wet her pillow so often. She’d hidden the fact that she cried at night from her sisters for years, because someone had to be the practical one of the trio. Susannah would throw temper tantrums and Becky would go off on endless walks whenever trouble threatened. Nan would merely stuff her fears deep down inside and, after bedtime, allow the tears to slide down her cheeks unchecked until her pillowcase was damp.

Thus she had gained the reputation of being stolid and unshakable when really, she just was terribly clever at hiding her hurts.

“I do wish you’d eat more,” a smooth voice spoke up beside her. “You’ve hardly tasted anything all evening.”

Nan flicked a glance over at John Reed, giving him a tiny smile. It was difficult to decipher his character. At the shop this morning, he’d been a dreadful tease and seemed to enjoy putting her on edge. On the other hand, his affection for Jane was genuine, and his offer to help when they were standing in the entry hall had an authentic ring to it. He was so handsome that she had to force herself to meet his gaze—something she’d made herself do when she was trying to convince him her shop was worthy of their business. Now, in the intimacy of a family dinner party, being so closely regarded by those brown eyes was well-nigh unendurable.

“I believe it was Byron who said that a woman shouldn’t eat anything in public,” she rejoined. “I am merely following his dictates.”

John laughed. “I find it very doubtful that someone with your strength of character would follow the edicts of any man.”

She didn’t know whether to be flattered or annoyed. Her head ached and the lump simply wouldn’t stop choking her throat.

“I know you are worried about your business, but have faith,” he rejoined. “I am certain we can find a solution to the problem if we simply ponder it.”

“No one really wishes to ponder it,” Nan replied as lightly as she could manage. “But I do thank you for your offer.”

Susannah rose, and with her, Becky and Jane stood. Placing her fork to one side, Nan followed suit. Now, perhaps, she would have a few moments to get her sisters’ attention.

But as soon as they entered the parlor, Susannah turned conversation to Becky’s pregnancy. Nan sighed as she took her place beside Jane on the settee. As Susannah prattled on about nursemaids and physicians, Nan’s patience grew thinner and thinner. Becky had ample time to plan the circumstances of her first child’s birth, and more to the point, she had a right to choose how it happened without Susannah’s list of instructions.

“Oh, do be quiet, Susannah,” Nan finally snapped. If she heard any more from her eldest sister, she’d not even make it home before she began crying in frustration.

Becky and Susannah stared frankly at her, and Jane gave a pained little gasp. Regret tore at Nan’s heart. She’d hate for Jane to think ill of her, even if she was highly annoyed with her sisters.

“I beg your pardon?” Susannah leveled her best glare at Nan, the one that had worked so many times before to bring Nan to heel.

“I said, do be quiet,” Nan repeated. Now that she was in, she might as well muck on further. “It’s ridiculous to prattle on when Becky has loads of time to plan her child’s arrival. Let her be.”

Becky breathed a little sigh of relief and cast a grateful glance Nan’s way. Perhaps she had grown weary of Susannah’s bossiness, as well.

“There is a problem that’s more pressing than anything else at the moment, because it threatens the well-being of our business,” Nan continued, meeting Susannah’s gaze steadily. “The grocer has hired a French milliner and her work is cutting deeply into our profits.”

“Is this all?” Susannah rested her back against the seat of the settee, arranging her skirts so they hung in graceful folds to the floor. “Surely one milliner won’t hurt the shop. Indeed, some competition could be good for business.”

“I’ve only sold two bonnets in the past week.” On the one hand, it was humiliating to admit the truth. On the other, it was a bit of a relief to share how badly things were going. “You know that we usually do at least three times that much, even when things are slow.”

“I don’t see how the new milliner can really be hurting your shop.” Becky’s subtle emphasis on your was not lost on Nan. If there was ever any doubt that the shop was hers alone to make a success of or not, this conversation was making the matter as clear as could be. “I am sure, as a Frenchwoman, her designs are quite smart. Your designs tend toward the practical, Nan. I am certain there is room for both in this village.”

Tears pricked the back of Nan’s eyes. Once, the three sisters had braved the difficulties of life in Uncle Arthur’s home, as he squandered what was left of their small fortune. Later, their closeness had endured through Susannah’s courtship with Daniel. Even Becky’s courtship with Paul had not left Nan unaffected. Yet now she was really and truly alone. Her sisters, so quick to rush to each other’s aid in times past, now had different concerns and priorities.

She was about to say something—anything—to try once more to get them to understand, when the parlor door opened and the gentlemen filed in.

Well, there was nothing to do now. She would simply have to take care of this matter on her own. She found a seat in a quiet corner of the room, her head throbbing. Jane cast a tight little smile her way and then turned her attention to her brother. In all likelihood, Jane was telling him that the Siddons shop was a dismal failure, and that they should take their business elsewhere. Well, Jane would say it more nicely than that. But her impassioned plea to her sisters probably cost her the one customer she’d gotten in the past few weeks.

“I daresay there’s at least one lady present who can play the pianoforte,” John spoke up, rising from his seat. “Why don’t we have a dance? Just an informal little hop.”

Becky rose. “I can’t really dance right now, so I will be happy to play.”

Nan stifled a groan as her brothers-in-law moved chairs and settees back to the sides of the room, and rolled up one of the rugs. She really wasn’t in the right frame of mind for a dance. Even at her most lighthearted moments, she had little patience for dancing. At the moment, her feet felt positively leaden.

Becky struck up a simple little tune, playing variations on the theme as the gentlemen finished preparing the room. Nan rose. Perhaps she could leave early. She cast a quick glance out the window. Dusk had deepened over the moor. There was no way she could walk without possibly tripping and falling or getting lost. She could ask Susannah for the use of her carriage, but that would call attention to herself. The only way it would work is if she was able to slip away unnoticed.

“Don’t tell me that you’re about to make a jump for it.” Nan jerked slightly as John spoke. He must have sidled up to her when she was preoccupied with managing her escape. “The way you are staring out that window, I wouldn’t be surprised if you threw up the sash and leaped out onto the moor.”

Nan forced a polite smile. “I don’t care much for dancing.”

John extended his palm with a bow. “I doubt that. I think you would be an excellent partner.”

Becky swung into the country dance as John led Nan out to the cleared space in the middle of the room. She pushed aside all thoughts of her business as she concentrated on the steps. They were so intricate and if she wasn’t careful, she’d slip and end up on the floor.

“Already you look more at ease,” John remarked as they moved through a figure. “Somehow, I knew you were born for dancing.”

Nan’s heart fluttered the tiniest bit. Stop being so ridiculous. That was the sort of compliment young men gave to young women all the time. He meant nothing by it, and she mustn’t let a mild pleasantry turn her head. “Why, thank you.”

“I think I have a solution to your business problem,” John continued, taking her hand as they stepped closer together and then apart. “If your work is pleasing to my sister—and she will need to see a sample of it first, of course—I should like to hire you to do her entire wardrobe for her Season in London. Everything she needs, from gowns to riding habits to, of course, bonnets.”

“Everything?” She hesitated for a fraction of a second, and it threw their timing off as they danced. With the skill surely born of years of practice, John smoothed over her missed step and continued as though she’d never stumbled.

“Yes. My sister is beautiful, and I think she will have great success once she makes her debut. But I know she’s shy and uncomfortable. If she had clothes made just for her, and if she worked closely with you on the designs, it might make her feel more confident. You can sew, can’t you?” he continued after a brief pause, sizing her up as though he was entirely unsure of her abilities at anything.

“Yes, of course I can sew.” She cast him an exasperated look, and his eyes danced as though he was hard-pressed not to laugh. “But if you’ll forgive me for saying so, you didn’t seem very impressed with my skills earlier today. Just a few hours ago, you questioned my ability to turn out one single stylish bonnet. Now you want me to create an entire bespoke wardrobe for your sister. Why this sudden change in attitude?”

He paused a moment, and her heart lurched. Would he say something pretty and flowery, something that would compliment her skill and flatter her? Few men did, although her sisters received compliments all the time. In all likelihood, his hesitation was because he didn’t know what to say. She was demanding an explanation, and he must know she wouldn’t take less than an honest answer.

“I was being a bit of a joker this afternoon,” he began slowly. “I was trying to jest with you. Tease you, I am afraid to say. Jane took me to task for it after we left.”

“Do you make a habit of teasing innocent shopkeepers?” She could not suppress the wry smile twisting her mouth, and he grinned back.

“Only when they come and fetch us, demanding our business.”

A warm flush suffused Nan’s cheeks. “I must admit, that was out of character for me. A move born of desperation, I’m afraid. I know I should trust in the Lord, but it’s hard to always remember that.”

“I don’t know that I would hold with some notion of a god playing with us, like a bunch of chess pieces.” John guided her through the closing figure of the dance. “I think boldness in business is a highly admirable skill.”

Becky’s playing grew softer and ended with a single note. John bowed as Nan curtsied, but the end of the dance wouldn’t mark the end of the interrogation. His remarks discomfited her, but at the same time, there was not much she could say in return. At least, not now. The idea of starting a new argument, this one about the existence of God, was too much after an already long day.

“I suppose I should be glad you admire boldness. However, you still haven’t answered my question. Did you make your sudden change because you felt badly about your behavior?”

He laughed. “You give me far too much credit. No, I can’t really explain why I’ve changed my mind. I suppose if you were going to tie it to just one thing, it would be because you get along with my sister so well already. Jane allows very few people into her circle. She never warms up to anyone as quickly as she warmed up to you. I think your very presence would have a calming effect on her.”

Nan nodded as he guided her over to one of the chairs pushed up against the wall. “I like Jane very much.”

For all his teasing ways, John must be feeling some hint of nervousness, for his shoulders relaxed as she spoke the words. “So, you will agree to it, then? I can entrust Jane to you, and no longer worry about the matter?”

“I did not say that.” Nan took her seat with a flourish, smoothing out her skirts. Somehow, the knowledge that he’d been nervous, too, made her feel a bit more confident. “I will think about it. I don’t know how I would manage both the shop and an entire wardrobe for Miss Reed, but I will give the matter some thought.”

“The shop?” He shrugged. “That’s an unnecessary complication. No, we must have your undivided attention. You would simply have to close the shop.”

“Close it?” Nan shook her head. “I had not even considered that.”

“Look.” John drew a chair up close to Nan and cast a most persuasive gaze upon her. “You said yourself that the shop was doing poorly. Why not let it go? You’d have to come to London with us anyway. Or at the very least, you’d be spending the next several months with us at Grant Park.”

Nan blinked. There was some truth to what he said. “I hadn’t thought of that at all.”

“Come along, you two.” Paul clapped his hands and strode over. “We’re about to start a new dance. Whatever are you talking about so intently, all tucked away in this corner?”

“I’ve just made Miss Siddons an offer that could change her whole life,” John replied, giving Paul a boyish grin. “Provided, of course, that she has sense enough to accept it.”