Scandalous Miss Brightwells [Book 1-4]

Lady Fenton seemed to consider this. “He may already have been taken home, as is the usual arrangement, but it’s true, he’s had a great shock. And it would be appropriate that he say a personal thanks to you.”

“I should like that very much.”

With her heart pounding with joy, Eliza closed the door between them. It was bliss to sink into her bed and to have something to look forward to.

Finally, she had a reason to wake up each morning. Here, under this roof with Mr Bramley, she would discover the love that had been denied her so long.

Chapter 3

Eliza arrived in the drawing room earlier than arranged, to find Lady Fenton waiting for her. She wasn’t going to miss a single precious moment in case the children were already downstairs.

They weren’t, but they arrived shortly afterwards looking clean and tidy as they followed Nanny Brown across the carpet.

Eliza returned the smile flashed her by the exuberant Miss Katherine who bounced ahead of the boys, darting back to give Young George a poke in the back, before innocently clasping her hands and looking demurely above her head when George wailed at the outrage.

Gideon looked askance at the young miss, but said nothing and Eliza’s heart contracted. A true diplomat. Was this, however, part of his nature, or was he subdued or in delayed shock by this afternoon’s events?

She was careful not to make a mistake. “Hello, Jack,” she said, extending her hand. He looked surprised as he shook it before taking a seat between George and Katherine on the sofa opposite. Not an honour generally accorded him, it would appear, judging by his look of surprise before the renewed urging to “sit up straight, now, like a young gentleman and mind your manners.”

“Are you feeling perfectly well now, Jack?” she asked. “Are you children completely recovered?”

They nodded dutifully.

“And so you will go back to the foundling home now, Jack? Do you like it there?” she asked, wanting to draw him out, but Lady Fenton interjected with a wave of her hand. “Of course he does! You can’t imagine the boy would be mistreated when it’s known how fond we are of him. Do take a seat next to me, Miss Montrose. I was so looking forward to enjoying a pleasant chat with you before George and the others arrive.”

“And what will…become of young Jack?” Asking the question brought home afresh how vulnerable her child was, and how helpless Eliza was to aid him. She could barely push out the words as, reluctantly, she took a seat upon the blue velvet seat beside her hostess. “Afterwards? When he is…no longer a child?”

“He’ll be trained in something suitable.” Lady Fenton looked surprised. “Fenton was worried we’d be giving the boy ideas above his station if we indulged him too much, but I think the lines are clear enough at this stage. Jack is a quick lad and has on occasion shared the children’s lessons, but I’m afraid he’s always besting Young George who doesn’t take too kindly to it.” Lady Fenton looked fondly at the fair-haired, handsome lad, tall for his age. “I don’t think he’d make much of a servant. Of course, he’ll be trained to serve, but I wouldn’t wonder if, given a bit of an advantage from the connections he makes here, he might not become something more.” She glanced over her shoulder to see who might be listening before saying to Eliza, “I know, it’s very wrong to imagine these foundling boys could aspire to something more, and yet…I have observed many admirable traits, even though he is so young. I would not see him leave here merely to become a bootblack.”

“So how do you think Gid…I mean, Jack, might be given advantage?” Feverishly Eliza’s brain went over every possibility as to how she could see her son rising beyond a footman—a servant. Ironically, Eliza’s status was little higher. She was unlikely to ever be her own mistress, and had played servant to her Aunt Montrose for more than seven years. But Jack—she must start to call him that in her mind or she’d make mistakes—deserved the opportunities of any well-born young man. It would be so wrong for him to be denied a future just because his mother had…

She cut the thought off at the root, and besides, Lady Fenton answered thoughtfully, “Jack is quite charming when he’s not being a scallywag, which I think is something Young George brings out in him since George can be so very vexing. However, when George isn’t about, Jack is very studious. There’s something very deep about young Jack. I’ll be interested to see how he turns out.”

“Yet his birth doesn’t favour him. Valet or blacksmith is likely the most to which he can aspire.”

Lady Fenton must have heard the bitterness in Eliza’s tone, for she raised her eyebrows before changing the subject. “And what of you, Miss Montrose? What is to become of you since you’ve evinced interest in that topic with regard to the boy?”

“Why…I’m to be married.” What a curious question.

“Yes, to Mr George Bramley. You surely don’t imagine you’ll be happy.”

Eliza stared at her. The impertinence. She drew back her shoulders and hoped her look was quelling. “That depends on how one qualifies happiness. I am no longer in the first flush of youth, Lady Fenton, and it is my desire that I don’t remain a spinster.”

“So, George Bramley was the only gentleman who has ever offered for you?”

“That is correct.”

Lady Fenton gasped. “How can that be? You are quite lovely.”

“And quite penniless…that is until my aunt hinted that I may become her beneficiary.”

“Which is when Cousin George made you an offer.”

“That’s of no account to me.” Eliza hesitated, wondering whether to say more. But then, perhaps if she were perfectly transparent, Lady Fenton would stop asking impertinent questions. “I’m taking a gamble; he’s taking a gamble. If I have children and can be left in relative peace, I shall be happy. By the same token, I’ve gained the impression Mr Bramley would be quite happy to be left to his own devices also, and simply to enjoy the benefits of a wife on his terms and when he chooses. I can live with those terms.”

To her astonishment, Lady Fenton put down her glass of Madeira, leaned across the space between them, and clasped her hands in entreaty. “Do not, Miss Montrose, I implore you, be satisfied with such slender pickings when you could have so much…so much joy.”

Joy? A strange word to use. Eliza allowed a smile as Lady Fenton, realising, of course, they had company, waved Nanny Brown away, exhorting her to take the children to the far end of the drawing room. Hoping to turn the tables on her hostess, Eliza said, “The match between you and Lord Fenton is quite unusual. A love match that had all London talking. I would not expect such a thing for me.”