Olivia paused and laid a hand on Dory’s arm. Gesturing toward the place with her free hand, she gave the maid an inquisitive look.
“Oh. That’s the gamekeeper’s lodge,” Dory said.
Olivia pointed to the frayed rope swing hanging listlessly from a tree.
“He hasn’t any children, if that’s what you mean. He lives alone out here and keeps to himself. Best place for him, I say.”
Olivia lifted her brows expectantly.
Dory continued, “A rough old sod, from what I hear, though I have never spoken to the sourpuss. Looks as if he’s lived on Tewksbury mustard his whole life.” She shrugged. “Must be good at his post, though. Cook always has plenty of game. Though I grow tired of hare and snipes myself.”
They walked on, quickening their pace to catch up with Audrey and Andrew.
“Stay to the path, dumplings!” Dory called ahead. To Olivia, she explained, “Never know where that man has laid his traps. And I for one don’t wish to be caught in one.”
Olivia shuddered. Neither did she.
The weather being rough and cold the next morning, Olivia kept the children indoors. She sat with Audrey at the old pianoforte in the corner, helping her reach the correct fingerings, and running her own fingers along the score during the more complicated phrases. Andrew, meanwhile, would not cease running about the nursery, kicking a ball and knocking down Alexander’s wooden horses, making the ten-month-old cry. After a sharp word from Nurse Peale, Andrew picked up a battledore from an umbrella stand in the corner and began swinging the racquet like a cricket bat. He hit a wooden ball across the room, and it clunked against the wall perilously close to Olivia’s head.
Rising from the bench, Olivia walked across the room to Andrew and held out her hand. Looking chastened, he laid the battledore onto it. She went to the umbrella stand, but instead of replacing the racquet, she picked up a second and rummaged around until she found a serviceable shuttlecock. Turning back to the gloomy-faced little boy, she presented him with the racquet and, armed with her own, stood facing him, several yards away.
His face instantly brightened.
She tinged the shuttlecock with a gentle underarm hit that sent the feathered birdie into the air. Andrew swung his battledore so vigorously that he spun a full turn in place, missing the object completely.
“Good heavens,” Nurse Peale grumbled good-naturedly. “I had better remove Master Alexander before he becomes the next poor ‘birdie.’ ” She groaned as she bent over, scooped up the little boy, and took him into her own room.
Andrew picked up the shuttlecock and whacked it back, this time into the toy trunk. But after a few more tries, they were able to keep up a volley of two or three hits before having to stop and retrieve the bird. Audrey looked over at them with interest.
“May I play?”
Olivia nodded.
“Two against one won’t be fair,” Andrew complained.
“Then I shall have to join you.” The deep voice startled Olivia. She had not even noticed Lord Bradley standing in the partially open doorway. She hoped their tromping about had not disturbed him. But she thought he looked pleased or at least amused.
“Have you another battledore?” he asked, removing his coat.
Olivia found two more racquets, handing Audrey the sound one and her cousin the one with two tears.
He regarded it with a dubious expression, but murmured only, “Perfect.”
The game commenced with much whooping and chasing. Olivia could barely reconcile this smiling, playful man with the haughty Lord Bradley she usually encountered.
“My, my, does this not bring back memories.”
Olivia turned. Mrs. Howe now stood in the threshold, arms crossed beneath her bosom, a dimple beside her pink lips.
“Hello, Judith.” Lord Bradley gave her a little bow, rendered less ceremonious in shirt sleeves.
She shook her head, amusement and annoyance sparking in her round china-blue eyes. “George Linton called. Hodges could not find you.”
Lord Bradley leapt to return one of Andrew’s wild shots. “Sorry.”
“You are not the least bit sorry, and you know it.”
He reached high and managed to bring one down from near the ceiling. The man had the wingspan of a crane.
“Do you remember how you, Felix, and I used to play in this very room,” Judith asked. “With George Linton or even your father making up the fourth?”
He nodded, distracted by the game.
One of Audrey’s shots went wide to the wall, and in reaching it Olivia stepped near to Mrs. Howe. Impulsively, she held out the battledore and shuttlecock.
The woman hesitated, looking down at her black-and-white-striped walking dress. “No thank you, I am not really—”
“Oh, come, Jude,” Lord Bradley teased. “You are not in your dotage yet.”
“Play with us. Do!” Audrey urged.
Judith Howe grinned. “Oh, very well. But if I muss my hair, and Dubois scolds me, it shall be on your head.”
“You are on my side, Mamma,” Andrew called.
Olivia watched for a few moments, and felt an odd emptiness steal over her as the game commenced without her.
Olivia was crossing the entry hall Friday afternoon when a young man sailed through the front doors, removing his greatcoat.
“Take this for me, will you?”
Olivia looked around and, seeing no sign of Osborn or Mr. Hodges, gingerly took the heavy coat from him. Beneath it, he wore a coat of blue velvet over a brightly patterned waistcoat, pantaloons, and tall boots. The youthful dandy had light reddish gold hair. Titian hair, she believed it was called, and green eyes. Eyes which lit upon closer inspection of her person. “And who are you?” He smiled. “I am quite certain I have never seen you before.”
Olivia craned her head around, but there was no one about to help her.
“What is wrong, my dear—speechless? I never knew I could be quite so intimidating. I find I rather like the notion.”
He appeared to be younger than she was, perhaps only nineteen or twenty, but possessed confidence, or at least bravado, beyond his years.
“Not that intimidating you was my intention.” He leaned near. “I make it my business to know all of the maids, and I should dearly like to know you. Your name, my sweet?”
Olivia looked at him, brows high.
“Quite right. How rude of me. I am Felix Bradley, Judith Howe’s brother and Lord Brightwell’s nephew. And you are . . . ?”
Olivia could barely believe this expressive, brightly clad young man was Lord Bradley’s cousin. But then . . . She let the thought go unfinished. From her pocket, she withdrew the small card upon which she had written her name, for just such an occasion.
“Love notes already? How delightful.” He squinted at her script. “Lydia?”
She shook her head, amused. She found his friendly smile and elfin green eyes charming.
He looked once more. “Lilly?”
She wiggled her hand, signaling, close enough. He straightened and smiled again. Olivia noticed he was tall and thin—not as tall as Lord Bradley but appearing so due to his narrow frame. His features were fine, patrician even.
“Mr. Bradley! I did not hear you arrive.” Mrs. Hinkley bustled across the hall and discreetly put a hand on Olivia’s back and nudged her toward the staircase. “Lord Brightwell is abroad, as you know. Shall I have Hodges announce you to Lord Bradley?”
“No need, Mrs. H. I shall just pop up and see my sister.”
“Very good, sir. The Chinese room is ready for you as always.”
Olivia walked toward the stairs as directed, feeling Mrs. Hinkley’s actions were more protection than rebuke. She could still hear their conversation over the padding of her slippers on the marble floor.
“Who is the new girl? Most unusual.”
“Oh,” Mrs. Hinkley said with evident nonchalance, “that is Livie, new to us since your last visit.”
“Livie. Ah.”
“You realized she is mute, of course.”
“Mute? Really?” He spoke casually, as though Olivia were already absent—or deaf.
She felt his eyes on her back as she climbed the stairs.
“Come to think of it, she did not speak a word. Yet I could have sworn she had the most beautiful voice.”
Chapter 11
If any one happens to drop the slipper in passing it,
she must pay a forfeit.
—MRS. CHILD, THE GIRL’S OWN BOOK
Later that afternoon, Olivia sat beside Audrey as she read aloud from Peter the Great, following along and occasionally touching her fingertip to a word the girl had skipped over or mispronounced.
If Audrey did not know the meaning of a word, Olivia would help her locate the definition in one of the volumes of Johnson’s dictionary.
Bang. The nursery door hit the wall, startling them all. Andrew dropped his top and shouted, “Uncle Felix!”
Audrey squealed and jumped up from the settee, book forgotten. Both children ran to the man at the door.
“Hello, you ankle-biters,” Felix Bradley teased. He patted his pockets and withdrew a peppermint for each of them. “Sweets for the sweet.” His gaze sought and held Olivia’s over their heads. He waved away their thanks. “I know my visits would not signify in the least were I not to bring you something.”
He looked over at Olivia once more. “What is your new nurse tormenting you with?” He strolled to the settee and picked up the book. “Plague me. I remember this one. Devilish boring.” He grinned at her censorious look. “Upon my soul, it was. Now. Who’s for a game of hunt the slipper?”