At her fingertips, p.17
At Her Fingertips, page 17
“Yes, of course you are. But you should be kind to Ella, Caleb.” But even her tone wasn’t reproving. Someone else would have to do the parenting of Caleb—her parents, for instance—for she couldn’t be stern with him no matter how hard she tried. “No mud puddles, no hair-tugging, et cetera.”
He shrugged away from her and ran to Mother to inform her of something else, while Alice spoke softly to Jackie and Rebecca and greeted Nettie. They’d picked out a spot just south of London, an empty field with a brush of trees in the background and presumably a brook hidden within the small forest, or that’s what Papa remembered. Apparently this had been a favorite stopping place for him between London and Pearlbelle Park years ago. It made a nice picnic spot.
“You seem well,” Nettie commented, embracing Alice briefly. “London must suit you.”
She laughed. “No, but I am enjoying it, London or no London. I brought someone to meet you.”
Nettie raised her eyebrows. “Someone …? Someone special?”
“Heavens, no, but he wanted to meet you. I forgot Mr. Strauss never had a chance to go down to the gatehouse, so I offered for him to come now.”
“Oh …” Nettie’s confusion was evident, and Alice supposed that was fair—after all, why would Alice bring an unrelated man on their family picnic? But Mr. Strauss was different. He was a challenge and also a mystery and, at the same time, just a man she enjoyed having around. He really would get along with Nettie, too.
He appeared out of one of the carriages and approached, hat in hand and looking a bit bashful. “I suppose Miss Knight has explained my presence in a way that makes more sense than what I could offer. Honestly, I just enjoy spending time with her family.”
Alice turned to him with a slight smile. “Nettie, this is Mr. Peter Strauss. Mr. Strauss, this is Mrs. Jameson, though I don’t know if you prefer …?” She glanced back at Nettie.
“I prefer Nettie,” she murmured. “As long as it’s all right with you, Mr. Strauss. I haven’t any reason to hold to formality with you.”
“Except propriety, but Mr. Strauss is practically one of us now,” Alice commented. He was always there these days, and Ivy and he had a very close relationship—though she didn’t think there was anything else to it—and even Mother and Papa admired him. He fit right in, and she would be a bit sad, almost like she’d lost a big brother, when he left.
Ivy slipped up beside Peter. “We like him very much, Nettie, so you must, too.”
Nettie smiled. “I’ll do my best. Mr. Strauss, we’ve brought the picnic lunch, but not the servants—except Anna and my husband—to help set it up, so of course you’ll have to help.”
Alice immediately knew what Nettie was doing—testing his mettle, seeing how worthwhile he was, how cheerful in work. She felt that of all the men she could’ve introduced to Nettie—for any reason—Mr. Strauss was the one who would impress her most.
Would Gibson Ashfield impress Nettie? Alice hesitated to admit to even herself that, no, he would not. But that didn’t mean in time he might not grow into a person who Nettie would like. Though, she supposed his very personality might not make Nettie enthusiastic about spending time with him. He had a Mr. Parker feel to him—flirtatious, overly honest about his failings, charming in a very polished way … and Nettie hated Mr. Parker, Papa’s cousin, with a passion that she reserved for so very few, though she’d never said so in as many words. Alice had picked it up from half-overheard conversations and occasional glares rather than from Nettie herself. However, that didn’t mean that Alice couldn’t like Gibson Ashfield—her opinions weren’t bound to Nettie’s.
Peter Strauss jumped to help Nettie and the others unpack picnic baskets without question, as good a worker as Alice had expected. She imagined things were different for him—that, to him, this wasn’t an unusual request, wasn’t a test. To him, it was probably absolutely normal for a woman to request his help setting up.
Once everything was organized, the children begged to visit the brook and play for a bit before they ate, which was reluctantly granted by the two mothers, who probably guessed, albeit correctly, that they would end up covered in mud and damp after their adventures.
“Mr. Strauss and I will take them. Oh, and Ivy,” Alice offered. “I’ll keep them out of the brook, or at least mostly.”
“So comforting,” Mother said with a slight eye roll. “But, yes, take Mr. Strauss. We’ll see if he can’t be a good influence to the boys.”
They led the small troop—three girls and four boys—down to the brook, where, predictably, Caleb and Ella dashed for the water. Alice managed to maneuver them to a place where they could all cross with relative dryness, though Caleb and Ella pouted about not being allowed to jump right in.
“If Ned and Malcolm will keep you in order, I might consider letting you swim … after lunch. But only if you’re very good now.” Alice didn’t have that level of authority of course, but she spoke with an air of firmness, which she hoped would make the children believe that she did, even if it wasn’t true. Ivy had a weakness there—she could never lie for the greater good. Alice was not similarly handicapped.
“Mr. Peter?” Rebecca, the youngest of the girls and still hardly more than a baby, lingered by Mr. Strauss’s side and tugged at his sleeve. “Up?”
Mr. Peter? When had that started? She supposed her siblings had spent time with Mr. Strauss at Pearlbelle Park, but she didn’t realize he’d developed a special nickname to share with the children.
Mr. Strauss picked Rebecca up and held her in the crook of his arm. “Are we going across the brook, Miss Rebecca?”
“Yeth.”
He obliged, making his way across the narrow area traced with large, flat rocks that made a perfect bridge. Once the entire company had made the trip, they explored their way up a small hill. Caleb and Ella ran ahead, while Ivy trailed behind with Debby and Jackie, and Ned and Malcolm were deep in conversation, leading to Alice’s not feeling pressure to slip into any group—she lingered near Mr. Strauss, who spoke to Rebecca exactly as one would to an adult.
Rebecca was clearly smitten, and Alice could see why Ivy liked this man so much. Alice liked him, yes, but she hadn’t seen how sweet his gentleness was until this moment. He had a way with the little ones that Alice could only dream of possessing.
His conversation with Rebecca apparently concluded, he turned to Alice. “I wish I could live out in the country like this and just picnic all day, but I know that’s not realistic. ‘It is in vain to say human beings ought to be satisfied with tranquility: they must have action; and they will make it if they cannot find it.’”
“Are you quoting something?” she asked.
“Jane Eyre by Charlotte Brontë.” He laughed. “I suppose I ought to use my own words, but I find myself thinking of others’ thoughts as much as my own. I’ve read the book often enough.”
Just like Ivy. “Have you discussed it with my sister yet?”
“A bit. She was reading The Tenant of Wildfell Hall most recently, though, and I admit we haven’t quite spent as much time on Charlotte as on Anne and Emily as of yet.”
A bit confused but understanding the gist of what he was saying, she nodded. “I admit I don’t read much. I suppose that’s something you’d find a bit offensive, as an author.”
He cocked his head, and his brow furrowed. “Why would I? It would be a boring world if we all enjoyed the same thing and there was no variance. I enjoy discussing books, but I have no ill feelings toward those who don’t read. It’s not the only interest in the world.”
She was glad Mr. Strauss was so reasonable. She wouldn’t have been able to respect him much if he were the type to enforce his own tastes on others. Of course, Ivy wasn’t like that, either—but she did seem frustrated with Alice, more often than not, for not reading. On the other hand, Ivy wasn’t quite as mature as Peter Strauss. He doubtless had a lot more insight on the situation than Ivy ever would, which had made him a more pleasant conversationalist. At least in Alice’s opinion.
There was some shouting ahead of them, and they increased their pace to catch up with the four oldest. Caleb had Ella pinned to the ground, and Ned and Malcolm were pulling them apart.
“I am stronger than you!” Caleb shouted, face red. He gave Ned a kick to further display his strength of temper—if nothing else—and Alice restrained a laugh as Ned promptly dropped him, Caleb landing with a thud on his bottom.
“No, you’re not!” Ella shouted back, not nearly as upset as Caleb was but still holding her own, as always.
“Caleb, Ella!” Alice hastened over to them and snatched Caleb up before he made another lunge for Ella. She gave his shoulders a slight shake, then took a seat on a patch of grass and pulled his writhing body onto her lap. “There now. That’s no way to treat your friend.”
“She’s not my friend anymore,” Caleb pouted. “I don’t like her. She’s a nasty girl.”
“Shush, now. That’s rude.”
“It’s true.”
“I don’t care if it’s true, which it is not—it’s rude.”
Malcolm allowed Ella to go, and she stood a safe distance away and folded her arms across her chest. “I don’t like you, either. Anyway, if I wanted, I could do whatever I wanted to you. I’m an inch taller than you this year, and perhaps I’ll stay that way, and—”
Caleb jumped up again, but Alice managed to catch his shirttail before another round of fighting began. “Now, Caleb—”
“Miss Knight, if I might.” Mr. Strauss set Rebecca down and held a hand out to Caleb. “Come here, Caleb.”
The anger on Caleb’s face evaporated, and a flush of shame took its place. He scuffed his toe against the ground. “I didn’t mean—”
“Yes, you did. Come here and let me have a word with you.”
Caleb sulked his way over to Mr. Strauss, who knelt and put his hands on Caleb’s shoulders. “Is that any way to talk to a lady?”
“She’s not a lady. She’s just Ella,” Caleb mumbled.
“Now, that’s not true. She’s a woman, so for your purposes—that of a man in this world, I mean—she is a lady. You don’t get to decide whether or not a woman is a lady—she does. I think, at your age, you don’t get to make an observation, either, so for all intents and purposes, Ella is a lady of the finest quality. But you’re not acting like a gentleman—see, that’s the part you get to control.”
“I’m not a gentleman,” Caleb said firmly. “And Ella isn’t a lady.”
“You’re not, the way you’re behaving, but she is. You have to believe all women are ladies, because it makes your job as a gentleman—even if she’s not acting like a lady—a lot easier.”
Caleb wiggled, but Mr. Strauss gave him the slightest squeeze, barely a reprimand, and he stilled and met his captor’s eyes evenly, if a bit rebelliously.
“You and Ella are great friends. I’m sure if you were to be a gentleman, she wouldn’t say things to provoke you. Perhaps if you were nice to her, she’d feel more like being nice to you. Don’t you think?”
“Yes, I would!” Ella piped up in the background.
“Miss Ella, I’d like to conduct this talk without your help.” So Mr. Strauss could be firm? How interesting. “Now, Caleb, do you understand what I’m saying? You’re not acting like a Knight; Ella is right. But of course you are one—you must be one. Would you call your sister a nasty girl? Would you call your mother a nasty girl? I’d hope not.”
“No.”
“And I’d also imagine that if someone disrespected your sisters or mother in that way, you’d launch yourself at them much as you launched yourself at Ella just now.”
“Maybe.” Caleb’s eyes lit up, sparkling with ideas. He reminded Alice of her mother in that moment. “I’d run them through with my sword, I think.”
Mr. Strauss laughed. “That may be a bit extreme, but my point is, Ella deserves the same defense. Perhaps you should focus a bit less on how to triumph over her and a bit more on how to be the best person in her life, the person she turns to in everything. You could have quite the friend if you were to promote her to lady and yourself to gentleman.”
“Then we’d never have any fun!” Ella said, stepping alongside Mr. Strauss.
“What? No! Then you’d have the most fun, because you’ll be able to be friends, and a friendship is a very fun thing. Don’t you agree with me, Ned?”
As Ned offered his perspective on the subject, Alice silently applauded Mr. Strauss. He’d not only found a way to calm both Ella and Caleb down, but he’d gotten the entire group involved in a discussion and used Big Brother Ned as an assurance that they would all behave themselves from now on.
By the time everyone was calmed down enough to proceed, Ivy and the two youngest—save Rebecca—had caught up, and Mr. Strauss suggested they all start back. Though they were reluctant at first, they agreed under the promise of delicious food, and the whole journey began again but in reverse.
Now Alice held Rebecca while Mr. Strauss took Jackie on his shoulders and Ivy helped Debby, for the youngest three were already exhausted. Nettie and Anna would doubtless be well pleased to see them come back so tired.
Alice allowed herself to fall in step beside Mr. Strauss again as the troop began their way back to the picnic site.
“They’re good children,” she murmured. “A bit energetic, at times, and Caleb and Ella fight like a cat and a dog, but they’re good-hearted.”
“I agree.” He shifted Jackie on his shoulders and glanced up carefully. “Jackie, you would never call Ella a nasty girl, either, would you?”
“No!” Jackie exclaimed. “I’d never do that. I like Ella. I wouldn’t call anyone nasty.”
This was why Ivy loved Jackie—he was all softness and sweet utterances. A veritable Tiny Tim but without the crutches. No, Jackie wasn’t an object of pity, except that he was overly shy, but he was definitely the kind of child that deserved such a moniker.
“I can walk now,” Jackie said firmly, seeing his brothers dashing off ahead.
Rebecca responded by jerking her head up from Alice’s shoulder and demanding to be put down. Already recovered, they went racing off, and Deborah soon joined them.
“I’d better make sure they don’t fall,” Ivy said, casting an apologetic glance Peter’s way before hurrying off down the trail after the younger children. However, Alice felt they’d be fine and, therefore, was comfortable continuing along at Mr. Strauss’s side.
“I’ve been thinking,” she said, “about some things you and Ivy were speaking of—how nature will grow children into different ways, but nurture also plays a big part. I think we are all affected by … by the way we are raised. I certainly am.” She wouldn’t admit that to many people, but she somehow felt comfortable admitting it to Mr. Strauss, cheerful a man as he was … and gentle, too, and caring. And understanding and empathetic in a way her heart wanted to be and yet never could quite achieve.
“Yes, I think so. I imagine I’d be a very different man if I weren’t the oldest—though perhaps not very different—and the way my parents—particularly my mother—raised me has shaped the man who I am today in so many ways. I can’t imagine myself otherwise, but it could’ve been different. Worse or better, however you want to term it. And yet, the person I am today is the person God is creating in me as much as the person bent by various circumstances, so I can’t say I’m eager to complain.”
“Quite so.” Though, of course Alice could see so many things about herself that she wished were different. She wondered if they were because of who she was … or because somehow, in her childhood, something had happened to create the reactions she currently experienced. The fears, the worries, the frustrations, the eagerness to embrace life, to embrace things that might hurt her.
The feeling that she must remain with Gibson Ashfield, even if it wasn’t turning out to be as perfect as she’d like. Even if he wasn’t the man she wanted him to be … even if it was starting to look like he’d never change to become that man, that mythical perfect man who she’d created in her dreams over a year ago—and that now seemed to be slipping away from her with every minute.
“You feel that the details of your past have made you into a different person than you would have been otherwise?” Mr. Strauss suggested. His voice was soft, and again she felt that lovely sensation of being understood. Yes, she hadn’t said anything, but he was still the dearest man in the world—in that minute, she felt so keenly in a way she hadn’t about anyone else. She knew he liked her all right, but mostly, she basked in his kindness and gentleness, even in the face of those edges of her that weren’t quite smoothed, quite perfect. She supposed, as he had said about Ella, he viewed her as a lady, and, to Alice, that made all the difference in the world—to be thought of as a lady of fine quality was half of what gave a woman confidence to believe she was.
“Yes,” she said softly. “I believe I do. I believe that because of the way my parents weren’t married most of my youth, simply put, I think that’s where a great deal of my anxieties come from. I think because of the way they handled things, because of the way I … I was alone so much … I can’t quite explain it. I don’t tell people that I have fears a great deal, you know, so I don’t want it getting around.” She blushed, both because she’d admitted to him how afraid she was of … She hadn’t said what, but it was so many things … and also because she didn’t think a real woman would be most disturbed by the fact that she’d admitted to having emotions. A real woman would be happy to have emotions, because a real woman would see emotions as a blessing and not as a curse.
“I see.” He cocked his head. “So what do you think it is that makes you fear? And what exactly is it that you fear? I suppose I should’ve started with that second question as it’s more pertinent—what is it that scares you? Unless you would rather not say—I would readily understand that, too. You have no obligation to tell me anything, Miss Knight, and I hope you know that, no matter how much I pry. I pry because I care, not because I want to gossip, but at the same time, neither are you obligated to respond.” He gave her a soft smile, and she nodded.
