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Emmie wasn’t certain she believed them; the whims of any youngsters seemed a shaky foundation on which to build anything. Nevertheless, it did feel as if they’d accomplished something. The children knew what was expected of them, and they’d agreed to it.
Sitting back, she watched Will walk out of the library. The man could negotiate. That was why he was so valued by the trade ministry, and why the prime minister himself had become a regular dinner guest during the Season, why there’d been talk of making him a Secretary of the Department. No one who sat across the table from Will Pershing could possibly fail to come to an agreement with him. He radiated charm and good humor, and a deep empathy that, while the children might not understand or see it, they certainly responded to. Yes, she’d helped his career along, but he was precisely where he was meant to be. And that felt… good. With the children here now, even her largest failing as a wife would be erased.
“Well, we negotiated,” Rose said, walking over to look out the window. “What do we do now?”
“We sign our names on the agreement to make sure everyone keeps their word,” her brother stated.
“Are you really going to learn to read? When Sister Helen Stephen reads, her face gets very frowny.”
“Yes, I’m going to learn to read. It’s important, so no one can say one thing and write down another thing, and then we get stuck somewhere horrible.”
That statement caught up Emmie’s thoughts. Being doomed because of a skill he’d never thought to be given the opportunity to learn—granting him that chance seemed much more important than her and Will finding fun things for the children to do. “Reading makes you powerful,” she said aloud. “Both because it keeps other people from taking advantage of you, and because it allows you to see other worlds and learn about things you might never have a chance to experience otherwise.”
“I want to be powerful,” George commented. “I’ll read every book there is.”
“But have you seen how many books there are?” Rose asked. “There are five million books just in here, I think.” She glanced about the library, then turned around to face Emmie. “Have you read all of these books, Mama?”
Good heavens. It wasn’t the first time Rose had called her “Mama,” but the word slammed into her like a hammer every time. Just the ease with which the little girl called a woman—who only four days ago had been a complete stranger—“Mama” felt… sad. It was as if Rose had no connection either to the title or to what it represented. Either that, or she was a far more masterful actress than Emmie had imagined. She fixed a smile on her face, pretending that being called anyone’s mother didn’t send her into a panic. “No, I haven’t read them all. They’re a collection gathered together by my parents, along with assorted aunts and uncles.”
“Oh.” Clearly bored by the explanation, the five-year-old stepped to the next of the tall, narrow windows. “Do you have ponies, or only big horses? I know horses didn’t get negotiated, but I’d rather practice riding on a pony.”
The little girl flitted from topic to topic, from serious to silly, with the swiftness and ease of a dragonfly. Emmie almost needed a map to keep up. “No promises about riding, but why don’t we go visit the stable while we wait for Will?”
“Oh yes. Come on, Georgie. I’ll protect you.”
Emmeline’s chestnut mare, Willow, resided in the stable along with Will’s bay gelding, Topper, two older geldings for the grooms and errands, two pair of coach horses, and a team for the phaeton. They’d never had need of ponies. They still didn’t, as riding would take up a great deal of time they didn’t have. But the children needed to be kept occupied right now, and she would prefer they not begin robbing the staff.
CHAPTER TEN
Emmie and the children walked out to the stable, and Billet introduced the youngsters to the horses and, at her request, gave them a quick lesson on tack. While Roger handed out apples to be given as treats, Emmie motioned at the head groom.
“They’re clever babes, ain’t they?” he muttered, looking on as Rose giggled and fed Will’s Topper, and George winced every time Willow wiggled her ears. “They remind me of my brothers and sisters, always trotting away to have an adventure down at the mill stream.”
She hadn’t even realized Billet had family. She didn’t even know his first name for certain, actually. Peter? Or Adam, perhaps. Hannah would know, but the maid would only blush and mumble, because no one, apparently, was supposed to notice that she had an infatuation with the sandy-haired head groom. “How many siblings do you have?” Emmie asked aloud.
“Nine. I’m the third oldest.” He chuckled. “My next younger brother once tried to sell the youngest in trade for a basket of kittens. Thought no one would notice, with so many of us.”
“Someone did, I assume?”
“Took an hour and one of the kittens pouncing on my ma, but yes.”
“George, don’t throw it,” Rose instructed. “Hold it in your hand, open like this, so she won’t eat your fingers.”
“She can’t eat my fingers when I’m back here, either,” her brother grumbled.
“Thank you for finding them this morning,” Emmie said, following the groom’s gaze. “We have managed to come to an understanding. There’s shouldn’t be any more attempted escapes.”
Billet doffed his cap, his light hair clean-looking but windblown. “If you say so, missus.”
Well, she understood his skepticism. “I would appreciate if you would continue to keep an eye on them when they’re outside the house.”
He smiled. “I can do that, Mrs. Pershing.”
“Thank y—”
Topper snorted, bobbing his head and stomping as Rose shrieked and jumped backward.
“Ha!” George snorted. “You got horse snot on you.”