Queen of my Hart - Emily Royal Page 0,31

you do, my dear,” Meggie said, “but your brother must give us the answer. You can whisper it in my ear if you like.”

She bent her head, and the little girl cupped her hand over her mouth and whispered softly.

Fifty-four.

Meggie nodded. Betsy possessed an extraordinary intellect. As a girl, and one of her class, what opportunities would she have to make use of her talents?

Jack frowned. “Seven.”

Betsy giggled.

The door opened, and Ralph entered the kitchen, and Meggie detected the now-familiar smell of saddle-soap and leather.

Jack squealed in delight. “Ralph! Is it time for me to help feed the horses?”

“Not yet,” the groom replied. “Mrs. Hart has prior claim. And your lesson isn’t over.”

“Thank you, Ralph,” Meggie said. “Now, Jack, can you remember what I said about the nine times table? About how easy it is to remember it?”

“Is that the bit when you add the numbers up?”

“Yes, that’s it!” Meggie said brightly. “What did I teach you?”

Jack screwed his eyes up in concentration. “You said that if you wanted to know whether a number was in the nine times table, you add its digits together to see if it comes to nine.”

“That’s it,” Meggie said. “Shall we try one now? How about fifty-four?”

The boy counted on his fingers. “Yes!” he cried. “If you add five and four together, you get nine.”

“So, what do we know about fifty-four?” Meggie asked.

“It’s in the nine times table?”

“Clever child!” Meggie said.

“Why do we need to know our times tables?” Jack asked.

“There are many reasons,” Meggie said. Jack didn’t look convinced, and Ralph knelt beside him.

“I have nine horses to look after,” he said. “So, if each horse eats four bales of hay a week, you can use your nine times table to work out how many bales I need.”

“Thirty-six!” Betsy cried. Jack frowned at his sister, then he looked up and gave a cry of delight.

“Mama!”

Mrs. Wells stood in the doorway, arms crossed, a broad smile on her face.

“Come along, children,” she said. “You’ve taken up enough of the mistress’s time today. Tidy your books and take them to your room.”

The children obeyed, then rushed to the door.

“What do we say?” Mrs. Wells prompted.

“Thank you, Mrs. Hart!” they chorused.

Meggie’s heart gave a little lurch as the words brought forth memories of the school at Blackwood Heath.

How was Mrs. Preston faring? Had Alderley left it alone—or had he burned it to the ground?

“You’re a born teacher, Mrs. Hart,” the housekeeper said. “Jack and Betsy adore you. But I wonder at your spending so much time downstairs. You have to get used to the main house.”

“Why?” Meggie asked. “It’s cold and dreary. Think about how much it costs to heat the whole place! There’s just me—and the house is big enough for a hundred. I’m sure my husband would not appreciate funds being wasted.”

The housekeeper frowned, but Ralph nodded in encouragement. “I agree,” he said. “Money shouldn’t be spent needlessly.”

“And what do you know of such things?” Mrs. Wells snapped. “It’s not your place to tell the mistress how to manage the household.”

“Neither is it yours,” Ralph replied.

Mrs. Wells’s lips thinned.

“I think it’s time you got on with your work,” she said. “The mistress doesn’t want to hear any of your nonsense.”

“But…”

“Ralph,” Mrs. Brown interrupted, wiping her hands on her apron. “Why don’t you help me with the logs? This fire’s almost out, and I need someone strong to carry them.”

He hesitated, and Mrs. Wells folded her arms. “Do as you’re told,” she said.

“Of course.” He cast a quick smile at Meggie, then followed the cook out of the kitchen.

Mrs. Wells sat beside Meggie.

“My dear,” she said. “Permit me to be so bold, but I must caution you.”

“In what manner?”

“It simply won’t do for the mistress of the house to spend so much time downstairs.”

“I thought you were happy for me to teach your children,” Meggie said.

“Of course I am, but the lady of the manor should spend her time in the main house. I didn’t want to press the matter before because I felt you needed time to settle in. But you must assume your responsibilities eventually. Your husband would expect it.”

“My husband is not here.”

The housekeeper raised her eyebrows.

Meggie had been at Molineux Manor for almost a month, and he’d not even written to her. Had he cast her from his mind to make room for others?

“Forgive me,” Meggie said, “I spoke out of turn. But my husband might not take kindly to my incurring expenses by employing staff we don’t need. I don’t