went back upstairs. Ethan fetched his coat and gloves and told Mrs. Wright where he was off to. It was a cold, raw March afternoon, the sun already slanting down, but Ethan didn’t mind. An errand was a chance to move. Delivering notes and packages and escorting the young ladies about was the best part of his job here in town. Nothing to compare to his long rambles in the woods during his time off at home; but for all he didn’t like London, there was always something to see. He spent far too much time kicking up his heels in the front hall, or setting tables, serving meals, then clearing off the tables again. Ethan liked to accomplish things, and none of that felt like an accomplishment.
He walked fast. He knew the way to Sir Alexander’s aunt’s grand place; he’d been there several times before and could be quick. He’d take the chance and look in on his grandparents on the way home. They were visiting his Aunt Liv, and her house wasn’t far out of the way. Aunt Liv was one family member who liked London; after being up to town a few years as a housemaid for the Wyldes, she’d married a local grocer and stayed on living here. No one would be the wiser if he spent a quarter hour or so at her house.
His grandad always had good advice, and he could talk to him about his plan for the future and how to get on with it. Everything was in place. Old Elkins was more than ready to give up his place and move to his daughter’s farm in Cornwall. The joint ache this past winter had like to done him in. He’d taught Ethan most all he knew. There was just the last step, the trickiest one, of asking. That and dealing with his dad’s disappointment. The second part was what kept him quiet when everything else pushed him to act.
Eight
“I think we should make Callie her own place here in the schoolroom,” Charlotte said. “The dormer would be perfect.”
Lizzy eyed the nook doubtfully. Anne, almost fully recovered now except for regaining lost weight, smiled from a chair by the hearth.
“We can clear it out and make it perfect for her. I’m sure she’d calm down if she had a refuge like that.”
The calico cat, crouched under the other armchair, made no comment. Since being released from the storeroom, she had been even more wary of everyone but Lizzy. “Not like a pen,” said that young lady now.
“Not at all. Very cozy. She can come and go as she likes—around the room.”
“It’s not fair that she must stay shut in here.”
“You are allowed to take her to your bedchamber…” began Anne.
“You know, I think Callie might prefer it,” Charlotte put in. Arguing with Lizzy was always a mistake; she had the cunning and tenacity of a barrister. “Cats need to know every bit of their territories, you know. But this house is too large for Callie to explore, full of unknown corners. I think it makes her uneasy.” That was one way to describe swarming up a curtain and spitting on her host, Charlotte thought.
“How do you know so much about cats?”
“I like to read.”
Lizzy made a face at her. They had had this discussion. “Oh, all right,” the girl said.
Under Anne’s amused gaze, Charlotte and Lizzy cleared out the small bookcase and other bits and pieces that had collected in the dormer. They created a nest from old blankets and a hidey-hole from an upturned hatbox. Lizzy moved the cat’s food and water dishes closer. “Callie can watch the pigeons from the window ledge,” Charlotte pointed out.
When they were finished, Lizzy coaxed her pet from under the chair and carried her to the dormer, plopping down on the blankets with Callie on her lap. “This is your place,” she told her. The cat curled in her lap. “She likes it,” Lizzy pronounced.
Relieved, Charlotte sat in the abandoned chair, her ankles now safe from lashing claws. Anne smiled warmly at her, and Charlotte thought, not for the first time, how agreeable it was to have female companionship. The days had been passing so pleasantly. She had grown very fond of Anne and Lizzy; Frances seemed much more at ease and welcoming. Lucy was happy too, making friends among the staff, greatly admiring its efficiency. The whole household was a delight—well, except for its master.
Alec had gone distant—and mainly absent. Or perhaps this had