KDBookOnline
Share Us
“I can carry it. And I still think the Pershings are nice.”
“Of course they’re nice,” her brother returned. “They need us so they can keep their fancy house, and then they’ll send us back to St. Stephen’s. They’ll be riding horses and dancing, and we’ll be fighting Fatty Crunkle for stew rations and wondering if he’s ever going to reappear.”
What he said made sense, and Georgie always made sense, anyway. And he always made sure she had food and a blanket. Sister Mary Stephen had probably given away their beds the minute they left, and if they went back, they’d have to sleep on the floor until enough children who’d been there longer were adopted and a bed opened up again. She hated sleeping on the floor.
“Let me make the bed, and then I’ll be ready.”
“Rosie…”
“It’s a nice bed. And ladies don’t leave messes.”
While he kept listening at the door like he expected hounds to burst in, she pulled the blankets back where they belonged and set all the pillows in place. Then she picked up her sack and followed her brother into the hallway and down the stairs.
The front door was latched, but George went up on his tiptoes and reached the lock. Once he had the bolt slid, he pulled open the door and they went out into the night. Georgie would make sure everything was all right, but she did wish she’d been able to bring more than two of her new gowns with her. She’d been well on her way to being a lady, and she didn’t want to give that up. Not even to avoid going back to the stone jug and London.
“Good morning, Mrs. Pershing.” Hannah pushed open the pretty green curtains of the window that overlooked the front of the house, and sunlight flooded into the room.
Emmeline sat up, shaking off an odd dream in which her husband kept asking her to dance and it was always a waltz, and they kept spinning and spinning until she was so dizzy she couldn’t see straight. She still felt unbalanced. “Good morning. How are the children?”
“They haven’t risen yet,” the maid answered. “You didn’t say if one of the staff should wake them, so I thought perhaps you would want to.”
“Yes. That would be lovely. Thank you.”
Bobbing her head, Hannah fetched the kimono-style dressing robe Emmie favored and held it open for her. “I asked Mrs. Brubbins to be certain she had fresh rolls and fruit on the sideboard for the little ones this morning. I hope that’s acceptable.”
“Hannah, I had no idea you were so knowledgeable about children.”
The maid blushed. “I’m no expert, to be sure. I did have two younger sisters, and I recall them both liking butter and marmalade and apples in the morning.”
“I appreciate your thoughtfulness. No doubt George and Rose will, as well.”
She tied the dressing gown around her waist. However short their stay would be, she did want the children to be happy and comfortable while they were in Gloucestershire. It was simple guest etiquette, and it felt more comfortable to hold on to that idea rather than the one where she was now responsible for two children.
Even that thought, though, didn’t seem as fraught with horrors as it had been yesterday. Mrs. Hendersen, for example, always went on and on about how her every waking moment was devoted to her two young ones. For heaven’s sake, either Mary must have been exaggerating, or the woman was horribly ineffective.
If Emmie could manage a solid partnership with Mr. Pershing—Will—for eight years, she could, she reasoned, do the same with two youngsters for a handful of weeks. Beginning this morning. For goodness’ sake, she’d married Will on a whim and still held up her end of the bargain. And when she looked at him over the last few days, that gangly, distracted boy he’d been seemed very far away. The man who’d taken his place—the mature, thoughtful, handsome, witty one—she didn’t know quite what to make of him yet. But she was definitely curious.
With the scent of bacon and fresh-baked bread in the air, she walked down the hallway and knocked on Rose’s door. The girl didn’t answer. Not wanting to startle her, Emmie began speaking softly as she pushed down on the handle and opened the door. “Good morning, my dear. I hope you slept well and had sweet, sweet dr…”
The bed was empty. It had also been made, albeit rather sloppily, as if by someone who didn’t quite know what to do with the dozen pillows and the quilted coverlet. Her heart hammered for a bare moment, until she spied the open door connecting Rose’s bedchamber with George’s. How sweet.
Walking on tiptoe, she reached the connecting door and leaned in, a smile on her face as she imagined how darling they must look snuggled up together. But George’s bed was empty, as well.
It hadn’t been made, pillows and blankets scattered across the bed and the floor. A cold, biting alarm pinched deep in her gut, a sensation she’d never felt before. “George?” she called. “Rose?” Only the subdued clatter of servants readying the house for the day answered her. “George! Rose!”
Whirling around, she nearly stumbled into Hannah. “I’ll go see if they’ve gone down for breakfast,” the maid stammered, and ran toward the stairs.
“Yes. They’re downstairs,” Emmeline breathed, a hand over her chest as she tried to slow the frantic beat of her heart. It made sense that they would have smelled breakfast and gone to eat.
Her mind thought that perfectly logical, but her heart refused to slow its hard pounding. Sinking onto her knees, she peered beneath the bed. The only resident down there was another stray pillow. Standing again, she strode back to Rose’s room and did the same thing. Nothing.
The panic shooting down her muscles was paralyzing. She’d been through crises before and had never felt the like. It made her want to scream and run and cover her eyes and hide all at the same time. “Hannah!” she yelled, hurrying to Rose’s doorway again. “Have you found them?”
“No, Mrs. Pershing!” came the answer. “Powell hasn’t seen them. Nor has Mrs. Brubbins!”
“Keep looking! Everyone, search!”
“Yes, ma’am!” Powell’s yell answered her.