The Foundling (Rags to Richmonds #3)

Chapter 7

CHAPTER SEVEN

F rederica had been meant to go the next morning with one of the governors, Reverend Thorne, to visit some of his parishioners, but they were waylaid when Mr Mulligan and two of the other governors arrived to complete an unfinished order of business from their meeting the previous day. At Reverend Thorne’s request, Frederica went alone, and had an entirely frustrating morning, receiving complaints about every delinquent child in the area whose misbehaviour the townspeople seemed determined to lay at Taverstock’s charge.

The exercise put her in an ill humour—so much so that when somebody rang the bell mere moments after she returned to Taverstock, her patience was stretched altogether too thin. With a deep sigh, she hastened to the hall and tugged the door open—or tried to. It had stuck, as it always did when it had been raining, and that only exacerbated her vexation .

“Oh!” She tugged again, more firmly, then stilled, both hands still on the door handle. Vexation was not a sentiment with which Frederica was familiar; she was generally too collected to allow her temper to rule her. After another, steadier inhalation, she leant forwards until her forehead rested against the cold iron door handle and closed her eyes. It was neither the townsfolk who had upset her, nor the door. It was this business with Lord Tipton, and whomever the unexpected visitor might be, he or she ought not to be punished for it. She stood straight and tugged again at the door.

A man stood on the threshold. He wore a brown greatcoat and a tatty top hat made of straw, and he had a satchel slung over one shoulder. He appeared somewhat taken aback to be greeted by her, though Frederica was not sure what or whom he had expected.

“Can I help you, sir?” she asked.

He abruptly broke into a beaming smile, which overtook his entire face, and bowed. “I sincerely hope that I can help you , madam,” he said in accents that revealed him to be of better breeding than his attire suggested. “My name is Mr Milliard. I had the good fortune to meet Mr Dalton in Bicester yesterday, and he informed me you are in want of a new schoolmaster. I should like to present myself for your consideration.”

“Goodness! In that case, please, come in.” Frederica stepped back, widening the door and gesturing for him to come inside. To think that she had been ready to carp at him when he was here to alleviate her duties! “You are fortunate, for the governors are here today. If you would be so good as to wait a moment, I shall let them know you are here.”

He stepped into the hall, removing his hat and dipping his head in thanks as he came. “You are most kind, Miss…?”

“Miss Child,” she answered. She could see him better without the door frame making a silhouette of him. He looked about the same age as Mr Carnegie—perhaps in his fifties—with hair that was mostly white and a weathered complexion. She could see now why it had seemed that he smiled with his whole face, for it wrinkled deeply everywhere whenever the corners of his mouth turned up. It gave his eyes a kindly, cheerful aspect. “Might I tell them something about you, sir? Your previous position?”

“But of course! I was schoolmaster to the children of Mr and Mrs Aldermaston in Baynards Green, until last month. They have gone off to India now, but I have a character.” He patted his satchel. “Pray, tell the governors, also, that I was blessed with a gentleman’s education. And they might like to know that I was for many years in the army, which ought to give me the mettle to deal with any trouble, eh?”

He grinned, but Frederica’s alarm must have shown, for he raised a hand to allay her qualms. “Do not be alarmed, madam. I would never lay a finger on a child. I only ask that you inform your superiors of my credentials, for they will like to hear it.”

He was not wrong. Mr Mulligan was himself a former officer, and he thought very highly of his fellow militiamen—and equally highly of the importance of discipline. Too highly for Frederica’s liking, for he actively encouraged the use of the cane as a means of correction amongst the boys. The prospect of a gentler schoolmaster coming to Taverstock who might influence opinions on the matter was a welcome boon. “I shall make sure they know,” she told him and had turned towards the office door when he called her back.

“I say, Miss Child, have we met before?”

“I do not believe so, sir.”

He pressed his lips together and frowned as he continued to peer at her. “You look familiar, but I cannot place where from.”

“I have lived at Taverstock most of my life, so it is all but impossible that we should have met.”

He clicked his tongue and gave up staring with a shake of his head. “I daresay you must just have one of those faces.”

He meant ‘common’, and Frederica almost laughed at the irony. With a quick dip of a curtsey, she hastened away to alert the governors to their caller. They interviewed him immediately and, their need being rather urgent, agreed that he should begin as soon as he could secure himself lodgings nearby. His character was exemplary, Mr Mulligan informed Frederica afterwards, though as a formality, he would write to the Aldermastons in India. The governors had agreed that they could not wait for a reply before taking Mr Milliard on, however, for fear of losing Mr Carnegie as well as Mr Patterson.

“I agree,” she replied. “The boys are growing ill-behaved, grouped together as they have been. Mr Carnegie will be delighted with this news.”

“As are we all, for the duke would not have liked to discover that we could not provide the children with a proper education. Well then, I ought to be off home. Will you tidy up in here, Miss Child?” Mr Mulligan asked, pointing to the coffee cups and papers left strewn on the table in the office. He immediately coloured and stammered, “That is…I beg your pardon, Miss Richmond. Pray, forgive me, I meant no disrespect. Old habits die hard. Of course, I do not expect you to clear the table, I?—”

“Please do not apologise.” Frederica pitied the man his obvious discomfort. To him, she had always been a foundling girl, as insignificant as the next orphan, whom it was perfectly acceptable to order about. He had never been unkind, but he had always expected—and received—her obedience. He had certainly never come to his feet when she walked into a room as he might for a lady of true breeding, or grown flustered when he spoke to her as he did with Penrith. She wished he would not begin now. “I beg you would treat me as you always have done, for nothing has changed.”

He regarded her incredulously. “ Everything has changed. Your uncle has recognised you. By rights, you ought not to even be here. Were it not for the duke?—”

“I am not leaving,” Frederica said firmly. She prayed he would not overrule her and was vastly comforted to see that, on the contrary, he looked relieved. It occurred to her then that it might be as difficult to replace her as it had been to replace Mr Patterson—at least in the immediate future.

“Can I at least arrange for a more comfortable room for you?” he asked.

She smiled gratefully and shook her head. “I am very fond of my room. It being next to the kitchen means it is always cosy, even in winter.” Perceiving that he remained unconvinced, she ventured, “Mr Mulligan, working at Taverstock is all I have ever known. I do not know how to be a great lady. I only know how to care for the children here, and to that end, how to carry out the wishes of the governors. That is what I intend to continue doing. If you will let me.”

He stared at her for a little longer, his scepticism in no way diminished. “You must be the only person alive who would rather stay in such a place than go to whatever luxury awaits you with your family.” Then he chuckled, very slightly. “But this is the second time you have begged me to allow you to stay here, and I cannot but reward such loyalty.”

“Thank you!” Frederica said—almost cried—in relief.

“Yes, yes,” Mr Mulligan said awkwardly. “We shall continue as before, for now . Your name, however?—”

“Must not change. The children know me as Miss Child. Please, let us carry on with it. At least for the time being.”

He sighed again and shook his head some more and eventually consented with the barest enthusiasm. She suspected he would not tolerate the situation forever; he was too scrupulously observant of rank. She meant to hang on to her life at Taverstock with all her might for now, though, for by no means did she feel ready to be Miss Frederica Richmond.