He continued to talk about the house and Doreena, citing what she had been used to. Jane gathered he had received his first letter from her and hadn't been encouraged by what she had said. Jane was in no mood to be sympathetic.
Yet part of her yearned to explain. While she couldn't tell him her foolish longings were keeping her awake, she was tempted to tell him about her financial difficulties. She couldn't sell him the house even if she wanted to because she didn't entirely own it. That was why she worked so hard. She needed to maintain her reputation for running the best boardinghouse in the area.
Grams's warnings kept her lips sealed. That would be telling him her weakness. Or her second greatest weakness. And what might he do with it if he truly wanted the house? One rumor of a less than healthful meal and her reputation could be ruined. She would lose the house, and he could make his arrangements with the bank.
She told herself that Adam would never do such a thing. However, since she was blindly in love with him, she didn't trust her own judgment. She'd have to rely on Grams's advice.
"I can't sell the house, Adam," she said, rising and walking to the drawer that held the tea towels. She didn't dare look at him; her pain was sure to show in her eyes. "This is my home." Or almost.
Whether he accepted that or not, Jane wasn't sure. At least he quit describing how much Doreena would like her house. It was a wonder, she decided, that he didn't suggest she stay on to cook and clean for Doreena. She realized she was drying a platter a little more forcefully than was necessary and tried to quit torturing herself with the prospect.
Half of the dishes were done before he spoke again. "Please consider slowing up a bit with the housecleaning."
"I just want everything done before the children come."
Adam turned to smile at her. "These children aren't going to notice."
"No," she admitted, "but their sponsors might." They were prospective customers, of course. But that wasn't all there was to it. While Adam interviewed families and judged whether they could take a child or not, she felt a strong desire for him to find her worthy, too.
* * *
Adam knew he had hurt Jane's feelings. He was truly worried about her. More than the symptoms of exhaustion that he had mentioned, there was a sadness about her that tore at his heart. But it was natural for her to miss her grandmother. The house must be full of reminders of happier days and terribly sad ones. He had thought she might welcome a chance to get away from it. He had hoped she might welcome a chance to do something less taxing as well.
Instead she thought he had insulted her. Questioned her abilities. Dismissed the importance of her home. He hadn't meant to do any of those. He had only meant to help her.
And himself. The house seemed like the only thing that might possibly tempt Doreena to join him. He described it in his next letter, stating that he was looking into the possibility of buying it. It wasn't exactly a lie, though there was no way he could persuade himself that it was entirely the truth.
All's fair in love, he thought as he took the letter to the post office. Or better yet, desperate times call for desperate measures.
A few patients, interviews with prospective families and meetings with the other members of the placing board kept him busy during the next several days. The day the orphans were scheduled to arrive, he received Doreena's response.
He found his hand shaking as he tore the end off the envelope. He skimmed the letter quickly, stared at the last line for several seconds, than started at the beginning again.
Since Doreena had no wish to live in the middle of nowhere and his letters indicated he had no intention of coming back home, she thought it was best that they break their engagement. He would thank her later, once he got over his broken heart.
She went on to say she had already informed her parents and they were taking it very well. Of course they were. They were probably delighted.
As soon as she had made the decision and, evidently, the announcement, she had thrown herself into social activities, hoping to ward off any talk of melancholia over the broken engagement. Everything was working out splendidly for her, as she was certain it soon would for him.
Doreena, it seemed, had been swept off her feet by someone "of her own class," as she put it.
Adam carefully refolded the letter and slid it back into the envelope. He should feel desolate. Doreena had not only broken their engagement but had already found someone else. He waited for the pain to come, for the shock to set in.
He took a deep breath and as he let it out realized all he felt was relief. The worry of how he could possibly make her happy was suddenly lifted from his shoulders.
His next thought was that he wanted to tell Jane, not only about the letter but his reaction to it as well. Jane, however, would be busy making final preparations for the orphans' arrival. She wouldn't welcome his intrusion.
She barely spoke to him anymore, anyway. She seemed to think he was out to steal her house, or some such nonsense. He found himself worrying about her more each day. He wished he knew what to do to help her.
The boardinghouse was sparkling when Jane welcomed the sponsors and their fourteen charges inside. The children ranged in age from a sweet-faced sixteen-year-old girl to a small boy of only two. The little one promptly wandered into the parlor, climbed up in a cushioned chair and fell asleep.
The other children lined up their little suitcases in the hall and placed their coats on top, then gathered around the table, where they ate sandwiches and carrots and drank milk. One small girl stayed very close to Mrs. Elder, one of the sponsors. At first Jane thought the girl was shy, but soon decided that the sponsor was keeping close watch on the girl. When one of the other children drew Mrs. Elder's attention, the little girl crept away. Jane. watched her quietly slip behind the heavy drapes that hung on either side of the large window.
Mrs. Elder looked around for her charge. "Where did Peggy go now?" she asked the other children. The oldest girl pointed to the curtain.
"Little Miss Peggy," the sponsor said, hunkering down in front of the curtain and drawing it aside to reveal the girl, "what are you doing back there?"
Peggy let herself be drawn away from the wall and back into the group. "Don't you want some more to eat?"
"Peggy's," said the little girl when Mrs. Elder offered her a sandwich. Peggy tried to shove it into the tiny pocket sewn on her apron.
"Peggy," Mrs. Elder said gently, "you have to eat it now."
Peggy, the sandwich clutched in both hands, sat down on the floor and scooted under the table. Jane could see her sitting cross-legged, placidly eating the sandwich.
Mrs. Elder sighed. "I wondered about the wisdom of bringing her. She has too many strange habits. Besides, she's probably close to four and doesn't talk except for saying her name. If anyone takes her, I expect they'll be asking us to come back and get her in a matter of days."
Jane bent for another look at the little girl. She seemed completely content, looking out through the forest of legs. One of the older boys leaned over to grin at her and received a smile in return.
After everyone had eaten, Mrs. Elder asked for a room for the six girls to change into their better dresses. The seven boys were left under the supervision of the other sponsor, Mr. Holt, and Jane led the way to her bedroom. While the girls changed, Jane went across the hall to check on the baby. He was curled up in a tight ball. Jane couldn't resist gathering the little one into her arms. He let out a soft sigh and settled into her shoulder.
To think of this precious little boy being orphaned or abandoned at such a tender age brought tears to her eyes. "Someone will want you," she whispered into a tiny ear. "Anyone would want you."
He stirred, stretched, then stared at her with bleary eyes.
"Are you hungry, sweetheart?" she asked.
He simply stared.
Afraid that he would become frightened when he realized a stranger was holding him, she carried him into the dining room. Mr. Holt was checking each boy, making sure their shirts were buttoned and tucked in and their hair was neat.
"Charlie's awake," one of the boys volunteered. Several of the boys greeted the baby, who turned away from Jane to stare at them.
Jane took a sandwich from the plate and placed it in the child's outstretched hands. She poured a fresh glass of milk and took one of the recently vacated chairs. With Charlie on her lap, she helped him take occasional sips of milk, and watched Mr. Holt coach the boys.