Susanne Dietze - A Mother For His Family

The twins paused in their game, staring at Helena as if she had forced Louisa to walk through thistles barefoot.

Her physical pain receding, Helena retrieved the ball. “An excellent first attempt. This time let the ball roll from your fingers.”

Louisa released it and it trundled far enough to tap a pin. Louisa’s head turned to the side, reminding Helena of a robin scouting for worms. “It hit!”

Warmth coursed through Helena’s chest. “Indeed, it did.”

“Well done.” Margaret’s frown twitched upward.

The twins dropped their rackets. “Good show, Louisa.”

“Now,” Helena said, “it’s Margaret’s turn with the ball.”

Margaret scowled, took up the ball and knocked down eight of the pins. Louisa jumped up and down. “My turn again.”

Margaret reset the pins. Louisa’s roll missed, but Margaret brought the ball back before jogging to stand beside the pins. “Roll it toward my voice, Louisa.”

Again, Louisa cocked her head. As Margaret called to her, she rolled the ball, this time knocking over two pins.

Alexander and Callum abandoned their game to join in, and soon the foursome were cheering and teasing. Helena stepped back to stand beside the nursemaid.

“She seldom knocks the pins doon, ma’am.” Agnes shook her head.

Mama would send the impertinent Agnes packing before noon, for certain.

Perhaps kindness, shown with firm confidence, would make more difference than dismissing a servant on her first day as the lady of the house. “Louisa enjoys herself. And watch her. When the ball strikes a pin, she aims for the same place the next time. She may never be a champion at nine pins, but then again, neither am I. Yet I still find enjoyment in the exercise.”

A huff escaped Agnes’s pinched lips, but Helena didn’t care. The scene was too pleasant to be ruined by Agnes’s insolence. A blue sky banished yesterday’s clouds, and the sun’s glow lit up the rocky tor to the east and warmed her back. The children’s cheeks pinked from exertion, and they all clapped for Louisa when she struck a pin.

Something prickled Helena’s neck, drawing her gaze. A wheat-colored terrier pranced over the yard, followed by her new husband. He strode across the grass toward them, dressed for riding.

What a dashing figure. Not that she should be thinking such things.

The dog ran to the children, its stub tail wiggling with enthusiasm. “Iona!” The game was forgotten as the children patted the dog.

So they had a pet. She should have guessed.

Louisa hopped in place, a whine escaping her throat, until Agnes hauled her into her arms and carried her to John’s side, stopping first to retrieve the dolly, Tabitha.

She’d have to remind Louisa that ladies requested attention with words, not whimpers.

John smiled and placed a hand on each child’s head as he greeted them.

“I threw the ball,” Louisa announced.

“Did you, now?”

He must have seen it, of course. How kind of him to let Louisa tell of it.

The children spoke over each other, relating the events of their game, and Helena hung back, her hands folded at her waist. These children loved their father. God, if You forgive me, could some of that childlike, family affection extend to me someday, as well?

Life was quite long indeed to go through it unloved.

Margaret rose on her tiptoes. “Will you watch us?”

John chucked her under the apple-green bonnet bow, tied at her chin. “Alas, I cannot. It seems we’ve lost more cattle to theft.”

“Who would steal our cows?” Callum’s brow scrunched.

“Hungry folk, I fear. I’m also told one of the bulls is causing a stir. He’s been separated from his fellows, but I must see what the fuss is about.” His gaze found Helena’s. “A word, if you please?”

The children pulled faces, except for Alex. “Glad I don’t have to ride along this time,” he mumbled as he passed Helena.

“You’re the heir.” Callum shoved his twin’s shoulder. “You have to do everything horrible. Don’t you wish you were me?”

Helena chewed her lip.

John didn’t offer his arm as they walked toward the garden wall, but she didn’t need his support over the even grass. He looked down at her with a smile, which was handsome, but it was also restrained. Businesslike.

Just like their arrangement.

“The candidate for governess arrives in a few hours.” With the toe of his black Wellington boot, he prodded a clump of sodden leaves, as if testing whether they concealed a rock.

“I shall be ready for her.” Helena may be young, but she was no schoolroom miss.

“Hire her and be done with it. They need consistency, something they’ve lacked since their mother died three years ago. The sooner someone takes charge of the bairns, the better.” His smile faded. “You’ve only met the children, but remember Louisa’s blindness endangers her. Playing outside like this is not at all wise.”

Helena’s lips parted with an embarrassing pop. “Agnes and I have kept close watch.”

“You cannot watch everything. Believe me. My child lost her sight and my wife her life because some things cannot be predicted. But with proper care, hazards can be avoided.”

Helena learned that lesson all too well with Frederick Coles. But this? “Play on grass is not so perilous.”

“What if a ball strikes her because she cannot see it hurtling toward her? Or she trips and hits her head on a stone?”

The bite of reproof gnawed at her stomach. “I would never put Louisa in harm’s way.”

“Not intentionally.” A muscle clenched in his strong jaw. “You mean well, but you do not know how things are done here. Catriona instituted rules to protect the children, and I ask you to follow them.”

Ask? More like order, when she had done nothing to endanger any of the children. Her hands fisted, but something held her back from arguing further, like a hand of warning on her shoulder. She sucked in a deep, calming breath. John was their father and guardian, and without him, she’d have nothing.

“Very well. Is there a list of these...rules?” Beyond not playing outside?

He smiled that pleasant smile again. Attractive, but the look did not reach his eyes. “Not rules, so much as a system. Agnes knows how things are done here, she can help you. Everything will smooth out soon. I look forward to dining with you this evening, so you may tell me about our new governess.”

She nodded her farewell. “Until tonight, then.”

He waved to his children and strode the way he had come, leaving the dog behind. Helena watched him go, a mix of frustration and resignation swirling in her chest. How could she be a mother if she had no authority, or if her attempts to better know the children were thwarted by his dead wife’s rules—as relayed by a sullen nursery maid?

Besides, John could not possibly expect her to twiddle her thumbs and change nothing but the decor in the drawing room.

Then she sighed and made her way back over the grass.

“Come, children.” Her voice sounded flat to her ears. “Time to return to the house.”

* * *

After seeing to the tenants and the bull, John was met at Comraich’s door by Kerr, the butler. “Welcome home, my lord.”

“Thank you.” John could hardly remember a time at Comraich without Kerr. The upstanding butler’s dark hair was now dulled to a leaden hue, but his step was vigorous and his dark eyes shone with wit. “Has the post arrived?”

“It awaits you on the library desk, sir.”

“Excellent. I shall adjourn there now. Coffee would be most welcome.”

The butler bowed, and John took the main staircase, mulling over the problematic bull he’d just observed. The animal was a valuable sire, a fine specimen with a long red coat, black-tipped horns and thick fringe over the eyes, but the signs of aggression he’d exhibited toward man and beast alike brought up disconcerting questions. As his stewards were well equipped to handle such issues, he did not normally oversee these types of matters, but since the bull was worth a good deal, he’d been consulted about the possibility of putting the creature down.