In Good Company Page 4

  Caroline let out a sniff. “Society would not look kindly on me if I were to abandon you in your time of need.” She lifted her chin. “But, I’m going to admit here and now that I’m beginning to get extremely annoyed with you. If there is a woman out there available to work, whether she’s suitable for the position or not, I’m going to have to insist you offer her a position—tonight.”

  Everett opened his mouth to argue, but before he could utter a single word, Caroline set aside her cup and began rising from her chair, stopping suddenly as she sucked in a sharp breath of air. A mere second later, Everett discovered what was behind her peculiar behavior.

  The chair was now firmly attached to Caroline’s behind, sticking out at a very awkward angle. One glance to the twins—both of whom were looking far too innocent—proved who was responsible for the latest disaster.

  A second later, there was an ominous ripping sound, and to his relief, Caroline was no longer attached to the chair, but when she turned around, he discovered that she was also no longer attached to the back of her skirt. As her shrieks of outrage began bouncing around the room, Everett realized what he was going to have to do.

  He was, much against his better judgment, going to have to seek out Miss Longfellow and beg her—on bended knee and with flowers, no doubt—to come work for him.

  3

  With bubbles tickling her nose, Millie leaned her head back against the rim of the clawfoot tub, appreciating the luxury of taking an honest-to-goodness bubble bath. Before Abigail Hart had come barreling into Millie’s life almost two months before, along with the lives of her friends, Miss Harriet Peabody and Miss Lucetta Plum, she’d never had the opportunity to slide into a tub filled with bubbles. There could be no denying that there were many luxuries available to her now that she’d accepted Abigail’s offer of a permanent place to live when she wasn’t working, but Millie certainly didn’t take any of them for granted.

  The reasoning behind Abigail welcoming her into her home was still a bit of a mystery. Abigail claimed she’d done so because she owed Reverend Thomas Gilmore a favor, but Millie didn’t think that was the only reason behind the woman’s extreme generosity. Abigail, from what little Millie had learned about the lady, seemed to have numerous regrets from her past. Those regrets, more than any favors owed, were most likely what had prompted Abigail to take three young ladies out of the tenement slums and see them settled in Washington Square.

  While Millie was incredibly grateful for the generosity offered her, she couldn’t help feeling just a smidgen of wariness about her current situation, especially because Abigail seemed to have a distinct propensity for . . . plotting. Abigail’s last plot had revolved around getting Miss Harriet Peabody and Mr. Oliver Addleshaw well settled. Since Abigail had met with great success in that endeavor, Millie was quickly coming to the conclusion that the dear woman was now in search of fresh prey. Which meant—

  “Ah, wonderful, I was hoping to find you in the tub,” Abigail said, strolling right into the very midst of the bathing chamber. Moving over to a dainty chair gilded in gold, she took her seat, glancing around the room. “Do you like the improvements I had done while you were off with that horrible Cutling woman?”

  Sinking ever so slowly down into the bubbles, Millie managed to summon up a smile. “Everything is delightful. Although I’m not really sure why you had so many chairs brought in here.”

  “I needed to make certain I’d have a place to sit.”

  Millie’s smile disappeared in a flash. “I know I still have much to learn about etiquette and the peculiar ways of people with wealth, Abigail, but I don’t recall working for a society family who liked to congregate for conversation in the bathing chamber.”

  “We in society share the bathing chamber quite often, my dear. Why, most society ladies your age have their own personal maids, and those maids are responsible for helping their young ladies bathe, as well as helping them into their clothing numerous times per day.”

  “Well, yes, I did know that, but I don’t believe those maids pull up a chair and settle in for a long duration during bath time.”

  “Which is a most excellent point, but I’ll have you know that when my daughter was growing up, she and I shared the most interesting conversations when she was in her bath.”

  “Because she wasn’t able to escape while she was bathing?”

  “Exactly.” Abigail settled back in the chair. “Now then, tell me, are you quite certain you don’t want me to have a little chat with Mrs. Cutling?”

  “While I appreciate the offer, Abigail, I don’t think that’s necessary. I really just want to put that unfortunate incident behind me and move on with my life.”

  “How lovely, and do know that I’m more than happy to assist you with that moving on with your life business. In fact, I insist on lending you my invaluable advice.”

  Not caring at all for the distinct note of glee in Abigail’s voice, Millie dunked under the bubbles, hoping that if she stayed there long enough, Abigail just might forget the direction the conversation seemed to be heading. When she started getting a little dizzy from lack of air, she resurfaced and discovered that while she’d been depriving herself of oxygen, another person had entered the room—that person being none other than her very good friend Miss Lucetta Plum.

  “Lucetta, what a wonderful surprise.”

  Miss Lucetta Plum, acclaimed actress and beauty of the New York theater scene, grinned. “I don’t know why you’d be surprised to see me since I do live here. However, seeing you is certainly a surprise. What happened?”

  “Do you really need to ask?”

  “Oh . . . dear, you were let go again, weren’t you. But . . . honestly, Millie, being employed for only a week has to be a new record for you.”

  “It’s not,” Millie admitted. “If you’ll recall, due to that unpleasant situation with the goats, I only lasted a day when I went to work for Mrs. Wilson a few years back.” She shuddered, stirring the bubbles. “How could I have possibly known those particular goats had a fondness for violets? I certainly wouldn’t have dabbed violet water on my wrists that morning if I’d known it was going to send the goats into a frenzy. But, goat incidents aside, yes, I did get dismissed once again today, and no, I don’t feel like talking about it. Let’s talk about you and how rehearsals are going for your latest play.”

  Turning on a lovely high-heeled shoe, Lucetta moved to sit in a chair right beside Abigail, gesturing around the room with a wave of a gloved hand. “This is nice and cozy, Abigail. What an interesting idea to add furniture in the bathing chamber.”

  “She’s only done so because she wants to be able to hold us captive as we bathe,” Millie pointed out.

  Lucetta stopped gesturing. “I should tell you that I prefer to bathe with no one in the room, Abigail—not even a maid. That means I certainly won’t need furniture in the bathing room you’re redecorating for me.”

  “That’s too bad, since I’ve already ordered some.” Abigail folded her hands in her lap. “But new furniture aside, why are you home early tonight?”

  Lucetta pushed a strand of golden hair out of her face. “The new electric lights the owner of the theater had installed began to smoke. I decided it wouldn’t be in my best interest to linger, so . . . I returned here to enjoy the rest of my evening with you.”

  Abigail gave a sad shake of her head. “Life in the theater does seem to be filled with unexpected hazards, dear. Which is why you really should, as I’ve suggested a time or two, reconsider your chosen profession.”

  “I adore being an actress.”

  “Hmm . . . I’m not certain I completely believe that, dear, but . . . you do have a steady income at the moment, whereas Millie does not . . .”

  Abigail settled her attention squarely on Millie again. “Because you’ve been very vocal regarding your desire to work, and I don’t know of any families who need a nanny at this particular time, I think the only option available to us is to introduce you to my grandson
. He’s a bit of a recluse, but I’m sure he can be convinced to take you on.”

  “Take me on?” Millie repeated slowly.

  “Indeed, but I’m not certain in what capacity we should ask him to do that taking on just yet.”

  “He doesn’t have children?” Millie pressed.

  “Not a one, but I have to imagine, with a little persuasion on my part, he’d be downright delighted to offer you some type of position. . . . Perhaps as a social secretary or keeper of his extensive library.”

  “Don’t you think his wife might have a slight problem with her husband hiring on a young lady with no social secretary skills or any ability to keep a library?”

  “He’s not married, dear.”

  Millie’s mouth dropped open. “Really, Abigail, one would think you’d be a little more subtle, but if I must remind you, I’m not in the market for a husband.”

  “Every unattached lady, whether they admit it or not, is in the market for a husband, my dear. However . . .” Abigail turned to Lucetta. “I actually believe you’d be a more appropriate match for my grandson, who goes by the very charming name of . . . Bram.”

  Lucetta’s mouth gaped open, much like Millie’s had done only seconds before. “I am definitely not in the market for a husband, especially a recluse. Why, that particular word immediately brings to mind an image of a curmudgeon, one sporting some type of horrible disfigurement, that disfigurement the reasoning behind the whole reclusive business.”

  “Bram isn’t disfigured,” Abigail argued. “In fact, he’s quite a dish, from what young ladies have told me.”

  Lucetta lifted her chin. “Dish or not, you will leave me out of your matchmaking plans.”

  “And I second what Lucetta just said, although I’m curious now as to what curmudgeon means. Because I’m in my bath, though—something both of you seem to have forgotten—I don’t have a dictionary handy.”

  “Curmudgeon means grouchy, but you’re exactly right, Millie.” Lucetta rose to her feet. “We’ve been very rude, keeping you from enjoying your bath, so Abigail and I will repair to the library and leave you in peace.”

  “But we haven’t yet settled on a plan as to what to do with Millie.” Abigail rose from her chair, although she looked extremely disappointed to do so.

  “I’ve already spoken with Mrs. Patterson,” Millie began. “And, while she voiced doubts about finding another family willing to take me on, I’m sure she’ll be successful in the end, especially if I continue to show up at the agency every other day, begging for a position.”

  Abigail, to Millie’s concern, plopped back down on the chair. “I do hope Mrs. Patterson wasn’t too unpleasant with you, dear. She should know by now that you can’t actually help the mischief you and your charges always seem to find yourselves in.”

  “Mrs. Patterson wasn’t the reason behind the unpleasantness I experienced tonight. Mr. Everett Mulberry was.”

  Lucetta abruptly retook her seat as well. “You never mentioned a single thing about running into Everett.”

  “Because you just got home, and again, I’m trying to take a bath, and just so everyone knows, the water is turning a little chilly.” She sent what she hoped was a pointed look toward the door, but her message was ignored.

  “Chilly water is incredibly beneficial for a lady’s skin, but back to Everett.” Lucetta scooted her chair forward. “Did his wards run off another nanny, and did he ask you to accept a position with him, and . . . did you feel compelled to turn down his offer because of that pesky attraction you feel for the man?”

  “I’m not attracted to Mr. Mulberry,” was the only protest she could think to respond.

  “How could you not be attracted to the gentleman?” Abigail countered. “A person would have to be blind not to notice that he’s incredibly handsome. Add in the fact he’s now responsible for three children, and well that must make him downright scrumptious to a lady who has a soft spot for little ones.”

  “I do not find Mr. Mulberry scrumptious,” Millie argued, wincing when Abigail sent her an incredulous look. “Oh, very well, I might have, when I first laid eyes on the man, thought he was a little handsome—although not scrumptious, mind you. But after he refused to consider me as a nanny for his wards, his handsomeness faded in a flash. Furthermore—”

  A knock on the door interrupted her speech.

  “Mrs. Hart? Are you in there?” Mr. Kenton, Abigail’s butler, called through the door.

  Abigail rose to her feet and moved across the room. “I am, Mr. Kenton, but Miss Longfellow is in the middle of her bath, so in order to preserve her modesty, I suggest you don’t open this door.”

  “Very good, ma’am, but I’m here to tell you that Miss Longfellow has a visitor. He gave his name as Mr. Everett Mulberry. May I tell him Miss Longfellow is receiving this evening?”

  “Of course she’s receiving, Mr. Kenton. Tell Mr. Mulberry she’ll be down directly.”

  “Tell him I’m not available,” Millie called.

  “Do no such thing, Mr. Kenton,” Abigail countered. “Millie is certainly available, and she’ll receive Mr. Mulberry in the drawing room in five minutes, ten at the most.”

  “Very good, ma’am.”

  Listening to Mr. Kenton’s departing footsteps, Millie frowned at Abigail, who’d turned away from the door and was beaming back at her. “I have no desire to see Mr. Mulberry, and since I am in the middle of my bath, which does, indeed, make me unavailable, you’ll need to go and make my excuses to the man.”

  “You’ve been complaining that your water is getting cold. That means you’ll have to get out of the tub soon to avoid freezing to death, making you available to speak with Mr. Mulberry.”

  “Perhaps I’ve decided to heed Lucetta’s advice and enjoy the benefits cold water is supposed to deliver to my skin.”

  Abigail shook a finger in Millie’s direction. “I’ll give you ten minutes to make yourself presentable, and do make certain to choose a suitable frock to wear.” With that, and before Millie could voice another protest, Abigail opened the door and slipped into the hallway, closing the door firmly shut behind her.

  “Your unexpected return has certainly put a lovely bounce in Abigail’s step.” Lucetta said as she rubbed her gloved hands together. “Why, she’s fairly bursting with schemes, and I, for one, could not be more delighted, especially since she’s definitely fixed her scheming ways on you.”

  Lucetta glided over to the door. “I’ll just go keep that scrumptious Everett company while you make yourself presentable.” Lucetta drifted out of the bathing chamber, the distinct sound of laughter following her.

  Seeing no point in remaining in a tub of cold water with bubbles that were rapidly disappearing, Millie climbed out, wrapped herself in a soft bundle of fine linen, and moved to her adjoining room. To her surprise, Miss Bertha Miller, an older woman Abigail had recently hired on as a maid, was already waiting for her, a situation that sent apprehension racing down Millie’s spine.

  Bertha made no secret of the fact she absolutely adored Abigail, that adoration cemented forever when Abigail had hired the woman on the spot after she’d learned Bertha had been unable to secure employment due to being almost sixty years old. That kindness meant Bertha was incredibly loyal to Abigail, and that loyalty, mixed with the pesky little fact Bertha seemed to be holding a lot of blue silk in her arms, had Millie’s apprehension turning to downright alarm.

  “I was just about to come and prod you out of the tub, but you’ve saved me that bother,” Bertha said as she marched determinedly Millie’s way. “Mrs. Hart is of the belief you might be a little confused about her request to dress in something suitable, so she sent me to assist you with . . . this.” Bertha shook out the silk and smiled. “Isn’t it lovely?”

  “Without question it is, but I think a dinner dress might be a little too much for wearing about the house, particularly since I’m not exactly planning on going out to dine this evening.”

  “Mrs. Hart went to the extr
eme bother of taking your measurements to Arnold Constable & Company to get you this perfect gown, which she has requested you wear tonight. Because of that, I’m sure you won’t want to repay that bother by refusing to wear her gift, or any of the other garments she purchased for you.”

  Millie’s brow scrunched together. “Other garments?”

  “She ordered you a new wardrobe.”

  “Why would she have done that?”

  “To help you on your way toward getting settled, of course. Something I and the rest of the staff are in full agreement with.” She held up the blue silk and gave it another shake.

  “Why does everyone I encounter seem to have some type of mad plotting on their minds these days?”

  “You’re a lovely young lady with no prospects, Miss Longfellow. Plotting is definitely required by everyone who knows you to better your situation in life.”

  “I don’t believe Mr. Mulberry is here in order to become a future prospect for me. If I were to hazard a guess, he’s here to swallow that annoying pride of his in an attempt to secure my services as a nanny, which is far removed from a prospective anything.”

  “While that might be the case, it won’t hurt to have you looking your best.” And before Millie could voice another protest, blue silk was thrust her way as Bertha bustled into motion.

  Fifteen minutes later, not ten, Millie made her way down the stairs, feeling like a complete idiot. Not only had Bertha stuffed her into the dinner dress, she’d also tied a bow into Millie’s short curls, pinched Millie’s cheeks to give her added color, and had even suggested Millie might want to add a little . . . stuffing to the bodice area to really attract Mr. Mulberry’s notice. Pretending she hadn’t heard that less-than-helpful suggestion and knowing her cheeks were flaming, which had made the whole pinching thing unnecessary, Millie had fled from her room before Bertha could think up any other wonderful ideas.