Читать книгу A Practical Partnership - Lily George - Страница 12

Chapter Three

Nan glanced over at her young helpers, Abigail and Mercy. The two girls had been with the sisters’ millinery shop for some time now, and they were both quick and eager workers. Despite their nimble fingers and helpful ways, they never grew any closer to Nan than after they’d started. Nan stifled a sigh. It would be a relief to unburden herself to them—to tell them both about the previous night, and how John’s challenge was taken as a proposal of marriage by Susannah and Becky.

Her cheeks burned at the memory of her sisters leaping up, embracing her and telling her how happy she would be. John’s excessive apologies afterward cleared up the mess but somehow also made her feel like even more of an old maid than she was. He had just been offering her a job, not asking for her hand in marriage. His tone of voice, echoing in her ears, grated on her last nerve. Nan clenched her teeth and tightened her hold on the bonnet brim she was trimming. The sudden pressure made the brim snap.

Abigail and Mercy gasped in unison, staring over at Nan with round eyes.

She couldn’t blame them. She’d never spoiled anything she’d worked on, ever. A mistake cost the shop money, and she would never lose money if she could help it. Nan gave them both a taut smile, but it was hardly a welcoming and calming expression, she was sure. She needed to get out of the shop. If she stayed, she’d start pacing—her pet habit when agitated. If she started pacing, then Abigail and Mercy would know something was wrong.

“Better go out for a while—need to get bread for dinner,” she said, but her nerves were so frayed that the words tumbled out in an unintelligible rush. She left the shop in a swirl of skirts, banging the door shut behind her.

Now what should she do?

If she headed farther into the village, she’d be tempted to go spy on the French milliner. If she applied reason and logic to the situation, she would know that there was no good that would come of staring at the poor woman. Yet, she was not the kind of girl who could find comfort by rambling for hours over the moors, as her sister Becky did. So, should she go into the village? Or roam the fields? Neither choice was particularly appealing.

Tansley Village was so awfully small. Funny, she hadn’t really noticed the village’s closeness until just now. If you had to go somewhere for privacy, where was there to go?

There was no place to go. For once, she craved the anonymity of a city street so that she could lose herself among the bustling crowd. Someplace like London, where she could merely fade into the background and be alone with her thoughts.

Father, help me. Help me move past all this. If only God could blot out the memory of her humiliation, and remove the sting. If only it had never happened.

Instead, she directed her feet toward the moors. They offered the only sense of solitude she could find in Tansley, and she needed some time alone to think.

The crisp autumn breeze rustled her skirts, and she tugged her bonnet off, letting it dangle down her back by its ribbons. If she was Becky, she would also loosen her braids and let her hair tumble its full length, just touching the small of her back. But then, it would take forever to coax the tangles back out so she could wind her locks into their coronet of braids.

She might follow in her sister’s footsteps as far as walking out on the moor, but she would only take her imitation so far.

John’s words echoed through her mind.

Offer.

Change her life.

Accept.

No wonder everyone thought he’d been proposing marriage. She scowled and scuffed at a rock with the toe of her boot. “Handsome men are such fools,” she breathed aloud, finally daring to say the hot words that had been bubbling under the surface since the ridiculous scene last night. “What was he thinking? He wasn’t thinking at all.” Typical. Disheartening and a stark reminder of the characteristics of all handsome men. She’d been allowing herself to soften toward John until his preposterous turn of phrase humiliated her before her family and brought sharp, painful reminders of her impending spinsterhood into bold relief.

A movement caught the corner of her eye. Someone else was walking out on the moor. Nan paused, anxiety rising in her chest. She really had no wish to socialize with anyone right now. Perhaps it was just a local villager, whom she could pass with a brief nod and hello.

She peered closer. A lithe young woman with dark hair was climbing the steep hillside. It was Jane. Last night she had begun observing Jane’s movements and gestures as a way to understand how best to dress her. A woman couldn’t be properly attired unless her dressmaker made a thorough study of how she moved. Unfortunately, so few dressmakers took the time for such minute details. This young woman, with the uncertain way she moved and her hesitant steps, could be no one but Jane.

Nan raised her hand in greeting. Even if she thoroughly disliked John, at least she liked his sister.

“Nan! Hello!” Jane’s voice carried over the moor. “Wait for me.”

Nan nodded and stood still so Jane could come closer. She bore Jane no ill will, despite John’s stupidity. She seemed a genuinely sweet person—a little like Becky, if Becky wasn’t so dreamy and romantic.

“Oh, I am so glad to find you,” Jane panted when she got within speaking distance. “I was hoping to today. I thought for certain you would be in the shop.”

“I just came out here for a few moments, on my way to the bakery.” Guilt gave Nan a twinge. She was, after all, supposed to be working on a bonnet—or at the very least, a sketch—for Jane. She was not supposed to be moping about just because some thoughtless young buck hurt her feelings.

“Well, I wanted to stop and ask if you had considered my brother’s offer. Not, of course, the offer everyone thought he was making.” Jane’s cheeks flooded with color and she seized Nan’s arm. “I am so very sorry about that,” she whispered. “Sometimes I think John has the manners of a pig.”

“Oh, I’ve met some swine who could school your brother in etiquette,” Nan replied drily.

Jane’s eyes grew sadder and she shook her head. “I can’t think of what to say. Let me beg your forgiveness, once more, on his behalf.”

Nan gave Jane a halfhearted smile. No need for her to continue apologizing, when it wasn’t her fault. John had said he was sorry, and made such an uproar, that she really didn’t want to hear any more on the matter. In fact, she would stop brooding about it altogether, starting now. There was no need to be so missish, for it was a simple mistake, after all.

“I was only teasing.” Nan shrugged off Jane’s hold. “It was nothing, I assure you.”

“Oh, good,” Jane breathed, her pretty face relaxing. “So, will you consider John’s idea? Will you come with us, and act as my personal seamstress? I won’t feel half so scared if you are there helping me.”

“I hadn’t really thought of his proposal in detail.” Now that John had offered her more than she’d ever hoped for, she didn’t know what to do. It had been far easier to focus on her hurt feelings than on the hope of financial security. “I don’t know how I would manage with the shop.”

“My brother would, I am certain, help with that,” Jane offered. She smiled tentatively. “Of course, I can understand why you wouldn’t want to leave. For one thing, with your own store, you have new things to do every day, and new people to talk to. If you were just designing clothes for me, you would be stuck with me, boring as I am.” She gave a halfhearted laugh that tugged at Nan’s heartstrings.

“Believe me, my career is much less exciting than you imagine.” Nan sighed. “Women out here have a tendency to order the same thing over and over. So I have developed ways to make it more interesting. I found a method to weave straw so it’s stronger. My bonnets hold up very well against Tansley weather. But that’s something I had to come to, not the other way around.”

“I can well understand that,” Jane agreed. “I suppose there isn’t as much call for, say, ostrich plumes and velvet out here.”

“Yes. I schooled myself to learn to love and appreciate the most simple and basic of bonnets, because they truly are the backbone of my store,” Nan agreed.

Jane slipped her arm through Nan’s elbow, and began guiding her back down the hill. Nan allowed herself to be tugged along. It was strange for Jane to lead rather than follow; based on the very little she knew of Jane’s personality, she was not strong willed like Susannah—much more likely to go along with things than take the lead. At the foot of the hill, Jane paused, studying the view.

“It’s so beautiful here. Rather like home.”

Nan nodded, silently. She wasn’t as enamored of sweeping vistas as Becky, but anyone could appreciate this view. The sun was gaining its summit in the sky, and a fresh cool breeze rustled the long moor grass.

“I don’t ever want to leave the country. I don’t understand why my brother insists on it.”

Nan turned to look at Jane. Had she really no idea of the role she must play? “I am sure he insists because it’s your duty. Just as I have my duty to my store, and he has his duty to your home, you must see that you must at least try to meet an eligible young man and marry well.”

Jane’s face fell. “Now you sound just like him. I thought you would be on my side.” She turned away, her shoulders slumping.

Nan shook her head. For one thing, that stiff black bombazine that Jane wore was simply not made for her movements. She needed softer fabric, something that would move gracefully with her. Small wonder she felt uncomfortable all the time. For another thing, and on a completely different note, she needed a friend. John Reed was insufferable enough as a passing acquaintance. What a horror he must be as a brother.

Of course Jane must make her debut, as any young woman of her station in life should. In fact, if circumstances had been different, and had Uncle Arthur not run through her parents’ fortune like water, it was likely Nan would have seen Jane socially in London. However, that was neither here nor there. Her duty was to help Jane feel more comfortable with her debut. If Jane could do so in clothes that suited her, with the help of someone she trusted, she would have a much higher chance of success than if she was to go through it alone, with no one but her brother helping.

Nan laid a careful hand on Jane’s shoulder, reminding herself to be patient. She had a tendency to blurt out the hard truths of life at the most inopportune time, and it never went well. Susannah and Becky would agree most heartily to that, if they were standing here right now.

“I daresay a London ballroom won’t be half as frightening if you are dressed in a gown that suits you. We all feel much better when we are well dressed. I may have forced myself to love plain hats and bonnets for my business to survive, but that doesn’t mean I have shunned the fancier stuff forever.”

Jane gasped and whirled around. “Does this mean you will come with me?”

“I still don’t know how to make it happen, but I will find a way.” Now it was Nan’s turn to gasp as Jane threw her arms around her, laughing. She hadn’t embraced one of her sisters in ages. Since they married and had families of their own, her sisters simply didn’t have the time or feel the need to embrace that much anymore. She missed it. Until now, she had no idea how much she really grieved the loss of her sisters, with a deep-down ache that brought hot tears to her eyes.

Giving in to the desire to cry would serve no purpose now. She must squash her hurt and wait until later tonight, when she could sob silently into her pillow.

“Now, now. That’s quite enough.” Nan took a step back, assuming the brisk practicality that had served her so well thus far. “I suppose I need to talk to your brother. Where is he this morning?”

* * *

I really am trying to concentrate. Look at me, the very picture of a gentleman of means. John forced himself to stare at the ledger book as Paul trailed his quill along page after page of spidery handwriting. It was the dullest thing he could think to do on a day with such fine weather, but it would be very rude to tell Paul so. After all, his friend was taking valuable time away from his lovely wife and family to school him in the proper manner of estate management.

“So you see, with just one small change to the way in which we harvested the grain, we ended up saving a large percentage of the crop. Enough, in fact, to net a tidy little profit.” Paul grinned and bent closer over the page, as though he could gobble the figures up to make a satisfying meal.

John glanced down at his boots. They were really of an excellent cut. He’d have to order another pair just like them from the boot-maker, for when these needed a rest or a cleaning.

“How do you reap your grain?” Paul glanced up sharply from the ledger book.

“I haven’t the foggiest, old man.” John stifled a yawn.

“It’s your duty to know.” Paul slammed the ledger book shut. “Who is your estate manager? Crowell?”

“No, Crowell passed away years ago. Father hired a new man to take his place.” John searched his mind for the fellow’s name. “Weatherford? Whetstone? Bother me, it starts with a W. That’s all I know.” If Paul would hurry up, they’d have time for a ride this afternoon before dinner. This latest lesson was taking forever to end.

“If you want my advice—and after all, you came all this way here for me to offer it—then you will return to Grant Park and have a meeting with this Mr. W. Talk to him. Get a feeling for how the harvests are managed. If he has any suggestions for improvements or changes, do listen to him and think the matter over. Estate managers can be vastly acute. Just look at the changes Daniel has wrought at Goodwin Hall, now that he is listening to his man.”

John nodded. If he continued looking the part of an interested pupil, perhaps Paul would act less like a stern schoolmaster and would just let him go. A quick canter would be just the thing in this fine weather.

“John,” Paul began in the tone that usually indicated a lecture was at hand, “this really is yours to care for now. Grant Park is a vast estate, and it’s imperative that you run it in a manner that will do your family credit. Had you no sense that it would become your responsibility some day?”

“I thought Father would live forever.” A flippant statement, perhaps, but a true one. He had never given any thought to the fact that, one day, Father would die and leave him responsible for managing his family’s wealth.

“And now that your father has proven himself mortal, where does that leave you?”

John shrugged. “Prevailing upon my friends with better common sense than I possess.”

The door to the study banged open and Nan Siddons whirled in, her cheeks a rosy pink and her eyes bright. John rose, a nervous rush of energy sweeping through him. Nan had proven herself a good sort last night, when he had stumbled into what her family had considered a marriage proposal when it had, in fact, merely been an offer of employment.

It couldn’t have been an easy predicament—indeed, he was still a trifle embarrassed when he remembered it himself—but she handled it with grace and aplomb. Her poise had convinced him that she could be an excellent guide for his sister as she made her debut. Surely Jane could weather any ballroom disaster in London with Nan instructing her surreptitiously.

“Pardon the interruption,” she managed, looking less like her usual practical self than he could have imagined. Her bonnet was dangling down her back by its ribbons, and several tawny locks of hair had escaped her braided coronet. Her breathless disarray, coupled with her flushed cheeks and starry blue eyes, made Nan Siddons look downright pretty.

“We were just finishing up,” he replied, looking over his shoulder at Paul. Paul stood, his expression one of bafflement. John could well hear his friend’s thoughts. Should he stay and play chaperone? Or give them both some peace so that they could discuss a business proposition in private?

“I’ll go...and leave the door open.” Paul nodded at John, the etiquette problem resolved, as he left the room.

John waited until Paul rounded the corner, his tall form passing out of sight. Then he turned to Nan. “You look like someone who’s made a momentous decision.”

“I suppose I have.” She smoothed her hair with hands that trembled visibly. “I don’t know how to make it happen, but I think I would like to have a go at being Jane’s dressmaker.”

A feeling of relief and excitement poured through him. “Good. I was hoping you would.” Then he paused. What did she mean about making it happen? It was a simple enough matter, surely. “All we need to do is make arrangements for you to accompany us to Grant Park.”

“I also need to make certain my sisters agree that this is the right course of action for me to take.” She looked pointedly at the settee. “May I sit down? My feet ache terribly. I ran almost the entire way here.”

“Of course.” His manners had fled the moment she arrived. Then again, this wasn’t really his house, so who was he to offer guests a seat? Would a gentleman offer anyway, even if he was the one visiting, and the lady was related to the head of the house? He would never wrap his head around etiquette. It was a very good thing that Nan was agreeing to help Jane. He was such a dolt, he’d never make heads or tails of any situation.

Nan sat on the settee, arranging her skirts around her, glancing up at him with an expectant look on her face. “Please, sit, sir. I cannot continue with you standing, as though you might bolt from the room at any moment.”

“My apologies.” He pulled a spindly wooden chair up so that he could sit opposite her. “I know we can convince your sisters. Have no fear.”

The corners of her mouth quirked. “You’ve not spent much time in my sisters’ company. They are not as easily persuaded as you seem to think. That’s not the only thing that makes me hesitate, however.” She waved her hand as though brushing the matter of her stubborn sisters aside. “There is also the matter of my shop. I don’t see how I can continue running it efficiently if I am to be staying with Miss Jane in Grant Park.”

He smiled with relief. Was that all she was concerned about? That silly little shop of hers? “Oh, I am certain I can pay you more than that tiny place can make in a year.”

Nan’s posture grew rigid and her expression hardened, making her look more like a spinster than he had ever seen her. “Do you really think so?” Her words, though perfectly polite, were an icy challenge.

He leaned back in his chair, studying Miss Nan Siddons from the top of her braided coronet to the tips of her slippers peeking out beneath her skirts. She was a bit of an enigma. Talented, to be sure, and far too intelligent to stay hidden away in a country hat shop, toiling away for years and years on the same ugly old bonnets. She was spirited beneath the mask of stolid composure she always wore, and she hated being teased.

He knew for a fact she couldn’t bear to be made fun of, and that thought attracted him at this moment more than anything. Nan Siddons could be jolly good company if she let herself go just a bit, and the only way he could force her to relinquish some of her prim airs was to tease her quite hard. He glanced over at the doorway. No sisters, either his own or hers, were present to interfere or tell him to stop.

“I do think so,” he responded, a slow grin spreading across his face. “In fact, I know so. Why, if I paid you to create one gown for Jane, you’d get a bigger profit than you have these few months, I think. Why else would you have come running after my sister and me, trying to snag us as customers, if you weren’t desperate for cash?”

Nan’s steady gaze faltered, and as she stared at the floor, her shoulders sagged just a trifle. Why wouldn’t she speak up? He wanted a spirited debate with her.

“I don’t see why you need to consult with your sisters, either,” he continued, leaning closer in toward her. “After all, you had quite a bit of trouble getting them to care about your shop last night. Why do you persist in asking for their permission?” Nan seemed a decisive enough person. Why did she persist in asking her sisters for consent, as though she was a child? It was so strangely out of step with the rest of her straightforward, efficient behavior. Her candor was one of her most appealing characteristics. Why hide it?

“Because...” she trailed off, shaking her head. “I don’t know. I suppose I feel I must.”

“Aren’t you your own woman?” He raised his voice a little in challenge. She needed to let go of this ridiculous notion that she must ask blessings of her sisters. She needed to drop that mask of practicality and deference, and revert to her usual frankness. If she did, then he would see that feisty side of her that he enjoyed so much. “You’ve run your own business for long enough, I daresay, to determine whether or not you can do as you choose with your life.”

“I don’t know...” The expression on Nan’s face walked a fine line between anger and triumph. She was rising to his bait, and at any moment, she would agree to his challenge.

Life would not be dull at Grant Park if he could spar with Nan Siddons. Why, he might be able to submit to the yoke of being master if he could look forward to a few moments of skirmishing with her a little every day.

He would try a bit of a different tactic. “Of course, if you’re scared—”

“I’m not afraid,” Nan snapped, and she rose from the settee. She began pacing, her slippered feet making no sound on the rich Oriental carpet. “If I could only make you understand. My sisters and I have always been quite close. The shop was Susannah’s and she left it to us. It’s been our hope of independence all these years.”

“Times change.” He rose, too. Why was she holding back? “Your sisters don’t need the shop anymore. You won’t either, if you have any sense. Do you really want to be chained to a dingy little shop for the rest of your life, making ugly old bonnets for tired old women—”

Nan spun around on one heel and slapped him, hard, across the face. “They aren’t ugly!”

As he touched his burning cheek, Nan fell back a step, breathing rapidly. “Oh, forgive me. I am so sorry. I should never have struck you. I just couldn’t bear to hear the shop spoken of that way.”

He had pushed too far, teasing her more than she deserved. In his haste to help her declare her independence, he had reached Nan’s limit. “No, don’t apologize. I shouldn’t have said that. Jane says I am too harsh.” He eyed her carefully, rubbing his sore cheek. “Do you still want to work for me? I should say, for my sister?”

She closed her eyes for a moment, as though gathering strength. Finally, she looked up at him as though really seeing him for the first time.

“Yes.”