The Anonymous Amanuensis Read online

  "Oh, I shall. But it will probably not be until tomorrow, for Jamie told me I must apply myself more to my lessons in housekeeping. I will also have lessons in deportment."

  Her giggle showed that these lessons, at least, appealed to her. "Miss Comstock says that I must learn how to write invitations and notes of regret and thank-you's and all other sorts of polite correspondence. So this afternoon I will begin on the invitations to the ball."

  Leaning forward, she said in a loud whisper, "Did you know that precedence must be observed when seating dinner guests? I never did, for Fa only entertains the neighbors and never worried about such things. Miss Comstock says there are even rules about how to curtsy to different gentlemen, depending upon their rank. It all seems so silly, you know, but I suppose it is necessary, if one is to go on in Society." She sighed.

  "Miss Comstock is instructing you in these things?" Eve said in some surprise. "I had not realized she was so well versed in Society's ways."

  "Well, neither did I," Penny said. "It turns out that Fa would not allow her to teach me anything other than music and sewing and subjects like geography." Her wrinkled nose showed what she thought of those subjects. "He did not want me to learn to 'behave like a Society tart' like my mother. Those were his very words, but I do not believe I was intended to hear them. So he forbade her to include such subjects in my curriculum. But Jamie has said she must do so now, and promises to answer for it to Fa."

  "I am so glad that he is doing so Penny, for now you will be prepared for the life you will be leading during your Season," Eve said, aware of a glow of satisfaction that Quinton had taken her advice. "Has your brother said anything of who will chaperone you in London?"

  "Why Miss Comstock will do so! Did you know she was gently born and that her mother was the daughter of a baronet? She learned all these things when she was but a child, but could not teach me them because of Fa's prohibition. Her father was only a poor country parson and when he died, she had to support herself and her mother, for there was no estate. Is that not tragic?"

  "Indeed, but not uncommon, I understand. Women are often left so, and have few ways in which they can earn a living. Miss Comstock is fortunate she was able to go as a governess," Eve answered, somewhat bitterly. At least Miss Comstock had found a comfortable position that gave her a decent living and a semblance of security.

  Eve still had reservations about the older woman's being the proper person to oversee Penny's debut, but did not feel she should express them to the girl who was obviously fond of her governess.

  "She told me it was fortunate she was so plain," Penny went on, "for had she been pretty, she would not have been taken seriously. Is that not the most unfair thing you have ever heard?"

  Eve agreed that it was indeed unfair, and reminded Penny that she had said she could not stay long. She found that a discussion of the problems of being female in a man's world brought unwanted thoughts to the forefront of her mind.

  Penny ran from the room, leaving Eve alone with her regrets.

  Yes, a woman without funds had few alternatives, as she knew from harsh experience. She could go into service, become a governess, enter trade as an underpaid and overworked shop girl or seamstress, but she could not aspire to anything more. Or, if she were beautiful and desperate, she could sell herself.

  Since none of these alternatives appealed to Eve, she had chosen to flout convention. And now she would pay for her folly, for surely Quinton would cast her out as soon as she had recovered from her injuries.

  Tears stung her closed eyelids as she thought yet again of her employer's all too evident anger the last time he had spoken with her. Was he still angry, she wondered. He had not been to visit her once these past days, though she had heard his voice in the corridor many times, had heard the faint sounds of his movements through the wall separating her chamber from his dressing room.

  He must despise her. And how she loved him. Eve allowed the tears to run down her cheeks as she thought of how empty her life would be away from James Quinton.

  Stop that, you ninny! What a watering pot you have become. You played the game, as Papa would say, and now you must pay the piper.

  And what a game it had been! She had memories to last a lifetime.

  * * * *

  Mosely unwrapped Eve's ankle and examined it after luncheon. She watched him closely, hoping to discern from his expression its condition. As he bound it up again, he smiled. "Well, Eve, ye ought to be able to put yer weight on that ankle now, so long as ye don't overdo it. The swelling's gone and it moves well enough. We'll keep it bound as long as it pains ye, but I'd say it's nicely on the mend."

  "Oh, what a relief," Eve said. "How soon will I be able to be up and about? I have had quite enough of invalidism."

  "As to that, 'I Nibs 'as said that I'm to 'elp ye dress and bring ye to the office this afternoon. He wants a word with ye."

  "More than one, I'll wager. Is he still so very angry with me, Mr. Mosely?"

  "Afraid 'e is, lass. I've tried to talk to 'im, but 'e won't answer me. When 'e takes a bee in his bonnet, it takes him a long time to get rid of it."

  Eve saw that Mosely was taking her masculine garments from the wardrobe. "Ye're to be a lad, still, Eve. Mr. Jamie does not want it known that ye're a lass. D'ye mind?"

  "No," she answered, as Mosely pulled her nightshirt from her shoulders. She had never quite got over her embarrassment at his helping her to dress and undress. So she followed his advice of closing her eyes when he did so, and found she was able to endure her embarrassment.

  "I confess myself to be frightened out of my wits at having to face him." She opened one eye and saw that Mosely was holding her laced undershirt out to her. The laces looked new and she remembered he had told of cutting them.

  "How I hate that garment!" she protested. "It hardly allows me to breathe. But I must wear it, I suppose, if I am to continue my masquerade."

  "I don't think there's a need to lace it so tight as I found it the other night," he said, with a slight smile. "I doubt Miss Penny or Miss Comstock will be looking at ye all that close. Besides, ye'll be wearing yer coat when ye're downstairs."

  As Mosely held a glass for her to comb her hair, Eve said, "Might I hope that you include hairdressing among your many accomplishments, Mr. Mosely? I had not noticed how long mine had grown."

  "Well, I can shear ye a bit, but it'll not be what ye'd call stylish. Remind me tomorrow before we dress ye." He picked her up and carried her out the door. Quinton was seated behind his desk, waiting for them.

  "Good morning, Eve," he said, tonelessly. "That will be all, Mosely. I will ring when I need you to take Eve back to her...his room."

  "Well, Eve," he said, still in that flat voice, once she had been comfortably settled in her chair, "we must now discuss what is to become of you." He raised one eyebrow at her.

  Eve's heart had all but stopped at the ice in his tone. Courage! She raised her chin and looked him straight in the eye, hoping her nervousness did not show on her face. "I will return to Elmwood as soon as I am able, sir, for I doubt you will wish me to remain here. But Mr. Mosely tells me that my arm will not be mended for another month or more."

  "What makes you think they will welcome you at Elmwood? Sir Alfred, from what I have heard of him, is not the sort to take in someone who has left his employ, simply out of the goodness of his heart." He raised his hand as Eve opened her mouth to speak. "That is of lesser importance than another matter. I wish to know how you persuaded Chas to write your reference. Or did you forge his hand?"

  "I did not," Eve protested with some heat. "Chas was glad to recommend me."

  "I doubt that. He would not prepare such a tissue of lies. No, I believe you must have forged it. And what other crimes have you committed, I wonder."

  "Mr. Quinton, you must believe me when I tell you that Chas wrote that letter of his own free will. I had been Sir Wilfred's secretary for nearly five years, and I was Sir Alfred's as well, until I left Elmwood."
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  "Ha! Now I know that you lie. Five years ago you were only thirteen, and newly come from Europe. Even Sir Wilfred could not have been persuaded to employ a lad so young as a secretary." If anything, his glare had grown sterner, more angry. "Come, Eve, tell me the truth," he demanded. "I've had enough of your lies."

  Angry now herself, Eve burst out, "Very well, if you must know. Sir Wilfred is...was my grandfather and Alfred is my uncle. My father was the second son."

  "How clever of you. With Chas in Portugal, there is no one else who can prove you lie, short of Yorkshire."

  "I do not lie!" Clapping a hand over her mouth, Eve forced herself to take several deep breaths. In a calmer voice, she said, "I am telling you the truth, Mr. Quinton. You must believe me."

  Quinton leaned back in his chair, staring closely at her. "Assuming you did persuade Chas to write that letter--and mind you, I am not admitting I believe you--how on earth did you do so?"

  "Chas wanted me away from Elmwood. He and I have been close ever since I came to England, for we are nearer in age than he and his brother. When I first asked him to write the letter for me, he resisted, but then I...I promised to seek a position as a governess if my quest for a secretarial position should prove fruitless, and he wrote it." She remembered how he had protested, and finally had given in grudgingly.

  "I admit I falsified my age. I am almost twenty-one, not eighteen. I only told you I was younger so that you would not wonder at my beardless cheeks."

  "I did wonder, you know," Quinton said in a slightly more friendly tone, his surprise at Eve's disclosures showing plainly on his face. "Most young men of eighteen have been shaving for some time."

  He looked closely at Eve. She stared back, her face showing nothing.

  "So you are Chas' niece Eve. He told me of you, of his concern for you, that night before he shipped out for Spain, but he did not mention your name. There is a distinct family resemblance. I wonder how I missed it before."

  "Perhaps you were not expecting to see it," Eve ventured, then jumped as his palm slapped resoundingly on the desk.

  "Just what, in the name of all that's holy, ever made you embark on such an insane course as you did? Do you not know you could have been discovered at any time? Not everyone would have been so kind to you as I. You could have been ruined. You may have been, for many of my friends and business associates have seen you, dressed as a man, living unchaperoned in my house. By God, Eve, you make me want to beat some sense into you!" The angry expression had returned and his face was set in harsh lines. "And now you tell me blithely that you will return to Elmwood, where, according to Chas, you were treated like the lowest of servants."

  "There is nowhere else for me to go," she told him, keeping her voice firm for all it threatened to quiver like a baby's. "I have a small inheritance, but it will not allow me to keep household. And I am not suited for anything but a secretarial position, for I have few other skills."

  "What of the governess position you promised Chas you would seek?"

  "Oh, I did make some inquiries. But they came to naught, for I am young and without experience. There was one position in a school, but it paid a pittance and by then I had conceived the notion of..." She paused, unable to keep the hot flush from her face. "Anyway, I would not be a good teacher, and doubt I would be able keep any such position for any time."

  "What gave you the notion of disguising yourself as a man and making a fool of me?"

  "I did not do it with that intention! You said yourself I am the best secretary you have ever had!"

  Again his hand slapped the desk with a sound like a shot. "Enough!"

  Eve cowered back in her chair. She had never seen him so angry, not even with his mother.

  "So you will return to your uncle's house to be an unpaid drudge?"

  Screwing up her courage, Eve said, "Unless, sir, you would consider allowing me to continue as your secretary. Oh, please Mr. Quinton!" She rushed on, ignoring the look of astonishment on his face and not wanting to give him an opportunity to argue until she had had her say.

  "No one else need know I am not a man. You said you were pleased with my work. My sex should make no difference to you, and as long as I will continue to disguise myself, we could go on as we have been. Oh, sir, I do not want to go away from you. Please say I might stay." Her words slowed and stopped as she saw astonishment revert to anger.

  For a long time he kept his head bowed over steepled fingers.

  She sat, unmoving, hardly breathing, as he considered.

  At last he spoke. "It is out of the question, Eve. Mr. Evelyn Dixon must disappear, never to be seen again, as soon as your arm is mended. As to what is to become of Miss Eve Dixon, I must confess I care not a whit. You have betrayed my confidence in you and deceived me."

  His face, when he looked up at her, could have been carved in marble. "Despite my friendship for Chas and my reluctance to cause him additional concern over your fate, I must tell you that you will leave my employ within a month. Since you have a home at Elmwood, you must return there, distasteful as it will be to you."

  Not surprised at his reaction to her pleas, Eve bowed her head. "As you wish, sir. But in the meantime, what is to become of me? I cannot stay in my bedchamber until my arm is healed. Mr. Mosely tells me I will be able to walk about within a few days."

  "Why, since you were employed as a secretary, you will naturally continue to discharge your duties as long as you are here."

  Quinton's smile was sardonic, his left eyebrow elevated. "It is your left arm that is broken, so surely you will be able to write. There still remain several weeks until the end of the quarter and I expect you will wish to earn a full salary, so you will have some funds about you when you depart."

  Unsure whether to laugh, weep, or scream, Eve bowed her head. "As you wish. Thank you sir. I will endeavor to complete my assigned tasks to the best of my abilities. Shall I begin at once, sir?"

  She was relieved at being allowed to stay for a while longer and determined not to anger him more. Besides, this brief reprieve would let her store up more memories of him for the years ahead. Hampered by her splinted arm, she took the pile of papers he handed her and began sorting through them, her movements awkward.

  They worked together for the rest of the afternoon, the silence broken only by his occasional curt instruction to her and her subdued responses.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Eve's discomfort at working again with Quinton lessened over the next few weeks as his coolness gradually gave way to a cautious and somewhat formal ease. She never allowed herself to hope that he had forgiven her, or that his determination to see the last of her had altered. Instead, she contented herself with enjoying the warm feeling of companionship that filled her soul when they worked quietly together in the office.

  He was almost constantly within her view, for the arrangement of the desks was such that she could watch him from the corner of her eye as she worked. And watch him she did, storing up in her memory his fleeting expressions of pleasure, satisfaction, irritation, or frustration as he perused his correspondence or instructed her as to how he wished his replies to read.

  At night he walked through her dreams, always distant, but ever present. She often dreamed she was reaching for his hand, to clasp it in hers so that they might go along together, but it was always just beyond her reach. The dreams occurred every night and, though her arm and ankle were healing well, she developed dark smudges under her eyes that looked more haunted every day.

  Eve was pronounced able to walk within a fortnight of her accident. The ankle, though able to bear her weight, was weak and still painful, so Mosely suggested she stroll in the garden, going just a bit farther each day, so that it would be gradually strengthened.

  Penny sometimes joined Eve on her strolls. She chatted happily of her new clothing and the ball, which was planned for the next full moon. Sometimes she complained about some fresh indignity visited upon her by Mrs. Grace, who required that Penny accomplish on
e unfamiliar household chore each day.

  Eve sympathized, but frequently chuckled to herself at the often-impatient girl being made to repeat chores over and over until they were done to the housekeeper's stringent standards.

  "I do hope the skies will be clear that night, Eve, for Jamie says that some of those whom we have invited might cry off if it were to be cloudy," the girl commented one afternoon as they slowly made their way to the rose garden. "It is really too bad that Fallowfeld is so small, for if it were as large as Seabrooke, then all our guests could spend the night here and not have to drive home or to Colchester in the dark."

  "You have not told me who will be at the ball, Penny. Has your brother invited many young people?" Eve asked, curiously, for she had not assisted with any plans for the fete.

  "No he has not. Except for Miss and Mr. Oatfield and the two Thompson boys. Jamie knows no other local families who have members near my age. But he has invited Lord and Lady Marsten--she made her comeout just last Season and is only nineteen. The Marquis of Arduin will bring his secretary, a young man of about five and twenty. I understand he is gently bred, for all he is employed as a sec--"

  Her hand flew to cover her mouth. "Oh, Eve, I did not mean that as it came out! I sounded so snobbish. Please do not take offense."

  "Silly," Eve laughed. "Of course I am not offended. And yes, Tom is gently bred, for his father is a minister and the younger son of a baronet."

  "Oh, are you acquainted with him? Tell me of him!" Penny was excited, for after growing better acquainted with them--and following her brother's lead--she had admitted to Eve that she did not particularly care for the Oatfield and Thompson families. She had gone so far as to protest their being sent invitations, whereupon Quinton had informed her that she was to be polite to them, no matter how she disliked them. They were neighbors, he reminded her, and he did not wish to offend them.

  "Tom is about my height, with very broad shoulders and curly brown hair. He is somewhat of a fop, leaning toward the more extreme fashions that your brother eschews. He has a puckish sense of humor and his ambition is to enter government at some future date. His understanding of economics is superior and I think he will be very successful if he should ever achieve that ambition. I think you will go on very well together." She smiled at Penny's excited exclamation.