A British Governess in America Page 2

  “Dear Lord, how has my life come to this?” She whispered the words as she stared out of the only window in the room. The alley behind the home was clogged with people and carts and carriages, all bustling about, on their way to who knew where. She laid her forehead on the cool glass as she witnessed the hubbub that was her new homeland.

  Groton. Connecticut. America. Dear Lord. No one back home in Lewes would ever have dreamed mousy, quiet, unassuming Eleanor Chastain would leave the only home she’d ever known and travel across the sea to a strange and unusual foreign land.

  She sat on the bed to change into her work shoes and pondered the family she was now part of. The eldest, Adam, had launched a biscuit the moment the door opened. It had been meant for her, but since Mr. Lovejoy had entered first, he was the one who got clobbered by it. Eleanor could forgive his lack of manners this one time, since he saved her from the flying food. Perhaps he had guessed what was behind the door, and meant to save her? He had tried to control his expression, but she caught the grin before he hid it with his hand.

  So, he encouraged his son’s outlandish behavior. Eleanor may have more to get under control than an unruly twelve-year-old. Mr. Lovejoy himself might need to be taken to task. She took a deep breath and got to her feet. She could sulk here in her small room or she could get to work. The house needed tending, and Mr. Lovejoy said some woman would be over later to help her sort out the kitchen and get started on the evening meal. She might have time to get at least a few rooms in order before heading to the kitchen.

  She might also have time to cuddle that sweet little girl, too. Since Mr. Lovejoy stated Elizabeth was the only child who resembled her mother, who had died giving birth to her, Eleanor had a suspicion Mr. Lovejoy bestowed his love to his daughter begrudgingly. Not that she blamed him, but the girl had no say in the circumstances under which she came into this world. Since the Patterson children in England had all been boys, this was Eleanor’s first opportunity to care for a girl. She could handle Mr. Lovejoy’s rowdy boys, but she would cherish the girl.

  She opened the door to her room, and immediately, the laughter of playing children put her at ease. Her shoulders relaxed and her stomach unclenched. She could do this. Children were children, regardless of which side of the Atlantic they were on.

  The siblings were sitting around the dining table, playing with some blocks with letters carved into them. Curious about the toy, she took a seat beside Adam, the eldest. “Tell me about your game.”

  He gave her a sidelong look. “’Tis no game, miss. This is how we are learning to spell different words.” He placed some of the blocks together to spell out the word ‘Toy.’

  “I see. Very good. Now what other word can you make by adding a letter or two?”

  Adam very deliberately placed the letter ‘r’ between the ‘o’ and ‘y.’ “This is what you are. A Tory.”

  Eleanor bit her lower lip. So much for acceptance. “Because I’m fresh off the boat from England?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  At least he had some semblance of manners.

  “But your background is English, as well.” She tried for logic first. “After all, it was your father’s uncle who sent me here.”

  Adam faced her, full on. “But we were born here, in the United States. All of us. And as soon as I turn thirteen, I’m going to join General Washington and fight all the Tories. Send them all packing back to England.” He rose from her side. “Yourself, included. So, don’t even bother unpacking.” He left the house, but not before slamming the door.

  Benjamin and Caleb shared a look, then giggled. Ben’s gaze flickered over Eleanor. “Don’t mind him, miss. Adam’s always been a hothead. We’re happy you’re here, even if you do talk funny. It’s been lonely without Mum.”

  Elizabeth rose from the braided rug she’d been playing on and climbed into Eleanor’s lap. Eleanor hugged her close, inhaling the little girl’s scent. “I bet it has been lonely for you. Your father is gone a lot, is he not?”

  Benjamin’s brown eyes widened. “Yes, he’s very busy with the Revolution.”

  Eleanor ran her hand up and down Elizabeth’s back. “Does he fight, then?”

  “Sometimes.” Caleb’s voice wavered. “It scares me. If Papa dies, who will take care of us?”

  Who, indeed? Eleanor wondered the same thing herself.

  Chapter Three

  P atterson and Daniel sat in the galley of Daniel’s ship, the Gladys Maria, in the middle of the harbor, and hoisted tankards of grog. “To another successful journey,” Patterson declared before lifting the tangy mixture of rum and water to his lips.

  Daniel’s gaze skidded over his friend. “And to your uncle, for having provided you with a helpmate.”

  Patterson lowered his tankard and shrugged. “That’s not worthy of a toast.”

  “Why not? She’s pleasant to be with, once she lets down her guard. Became quite a little chatterbox during the last few weeks she was on board. She wished to learn everything about how the ship operates, and how I could tell my way across the sea.” Daniel took a sip of his drink. “Kind of reminded me of my wife, Pippa.” Then, he leaned across the table and punched Patterson’s arm lightly. “Plus, she’s quite attractive, isn’t she?”

  “I didn’t notice.” Patterson punched Daniel’s arm a bit harder than he had been hit. “All I noticed was how my daughter latched onto her right away. My sweet daughter, who reminds me of Margaret each time I look at her…and makes my heart ache. It should be Margaret who is holding her, not some stranger.”

  Daniel leaned back in his seat. “I could not agree more. The last few years have been very unforgiving. We’re all tired. Tired of the war, of the bloodshed, of the Brits. When my Gladys died, the wind left my sails, too. I had a motherless child, same as you, and was hard pressed to figure out where to turn next. Fortunately, I had my wife’s parents to rely on for help with Emma. You don’t even have that.”

  Patterson raised his gaze to his friend. “Yet, somehow you managed. And you’ve never been happier than with Pippa.”

  “So, don’t be so hard on yourself. Your uncle has given you a lifeline. You now have someone who will help care for your children and your household. You don’t have to replace Margaret, but you do have to accept the idea things won’t ever be the same.” Daniel refilled their tankards.

  “You are correct in that, Daniel. I don’t have to, and I won’t ever replace my wife. Margaret died giving birth to our child. I killed her, as if I put a gun to her head.” Patterson’s eyes glazed over.

  “Pat, look at me.”

  Patterson focused on his friend and Daniel continued. “Yes, Margaret died in childbirth. A lot of women do, unfortunately. But she had four successful births before little Elizabeth. Focus on that, instead of dwelling on the one time it was bad. Don’t deny yourself the chance to love again. The fact you have five children tells me you enjoyed your evenings with your wife very much.”

  Patterson blinked the moisture from his eyes and heaved a sigh. “You are right. I did enjoy my lovemaking with Margaret. But I’ve done without for two years now, and I’m getting used to it. I just can’t stand the thought of having another woman than Margaret in my house, caring for my children.”

  Daniel picked up the tankards and stood. “Give yourself time, Pat. And give Eleanor time, too. She’s never been away from Sussex before, and this is all new and frightening to her. And, unless I miss my guess, she had no choice in the matter. Now, let’s get you loaded up with the pilfered goods so you can get them to the supply house and then get on home to your children. And Eleanor.”

  Patterson stood as well. “Yes, I do need to get home to my brood. Adam told me yesterday that as soon as he turns thirteen, he’s going to enlist and fight alongside General Washington. The boy has a hard time even holding a heavy musket.”

  “But he is the future of this country. The ones we have been fighting on behalf of. Don’t deny him the opportunity to contribute. You can’t shield
him forever. Maybe let him help you at the fort.”

  Daniel headed down to the hold of the ship and Patterson followed down the narrow stairway. “You make a fair point. At least if he lifts enough heavy boxes of goods, he’ll build up his skinny body, while he’s doing some good for the cause. I’ll give it some thought.”

  Patterson and Daniel carried the boxes up to the deck of the ship and loaded them into the rowboat. As soon as they were loaded, Patterson quickly rowed away from the ship. If he were spotted by the British, he and Daniel both would be sent to prison, or worse, so the sooner he put some distance between their boats, the better. Besides, putting all his might into rowing allowed him to ponder his discussion with his friend. He inhaled the salty air as he rowed. Yes, he’d left Boston behind when Margaret died, and relocated to Groton to be put in charge of the Continental Army’s supplies, which allowed him more time to be at home with his children. But the memory of his wife didn’t fade simply because he’d left the town where they had met and started their family.

  Eleanor Chastain didn’t wish to be here anymore than Patterson did—at least, according to Daniel. His eldest, Adam, didn’t like sitting idle while all around him the Revolutionary War raged. Change blew fiercely in the wind, and Patterson was stuck in the past.

  • ♥ •

  Patterson noticed the light in the window of his home before he opened the door. It was very late, and he presumed everyone would be in bed and fast asleep, as had been the case every other night. Yet, there was a light in the window, casting a welcoming glow. For the first time since Margaret died.

  He slid into the house on silent feet and made his way to the kitchen, where he found a plate of food, wrapped up and sitting on top of the wood stove. He opened it gingerly, burning his fingers slightly in his haste, and inhaled the scent of roasted meat, mashed potatoes and bright orange carrots. His stomach growled as he took the wooden trencher from the stove and found a place setting already waiting for him at his preferred seat at the table.

  He had only taken a few bites when Eleanor’s bedroom door cracked open and she entered the room. “Good evening, Mr. Lovejoy.” Her soft voice registered as she took a seat beside him at the table but refused to raise her eyes and look directly at him. She still wore the same muslin gown she’d worn this morning. Patterson expected her to be in a night rail and wrapper, considering the late hour. She must have been waiting up for him.

  He raised his fork in her direction. “Did Mrs. Goodhouse show you around this afternoon, then?” He pointed to the meal in front of him.

  Eleanor nodded slightly and cast a quick glance at him, finally. “She showed me where everything was in the kitchen and the root cellar, and then left, saying things were in good hands.”

  Patterson took another bite of the succulent meat and chewed for a long moment as he digested her words. “So, you made this meal?”

  “Yes, sir. Is it seasoned to your taste?”

  Patterson motioned to the empty trencher and smiled at her, Daniel’s words that she didn’t wish to be here ringing in his ears. “I have cleaned my plate, haven’t I?”

  Eleanor rose and took his empty plate from him. He quickly placed his hand around her wrist. “You don’t need to do that. I have been cleaning up after myself for two years now.”

  She stood her ground, tugging her wrist free from his grasp. “It’s why I’m here, is it not? I’m to cook, clean, and teach your children. In exchange, I’m to have a roof over my head and food in my belly. Is that not the bargain?” She kept her voice low, but her words stung, anyway.

  He blinked as her words formed a knot in his stomach, and his temper flared. “This was not my idea, Miss Chastain. I did not ask my uncle for assistance. We were making do. Daniel told me his belief it was not your idea to come here, so I’m assuming my uncle offered this arrangement in order to keep you in his employ. If you wish to return to Sussex, I will allow it.”

  She took his dirty plate to the dry sink, poured some water from the pitcher over it and scrubbed. He waited for her response, noting her straight back as the light from the candle in the window cast shadows in the room. He noticed other things as well. The house was clean from top to tail, his children were all in their beds, the air in the house was lightly scented with pine. Eleanor had been hard at work all day while he was gone. His anger fizzled.

  She finally faced him head-on. “I appreciate your offer to return me to my homeland. But your uncle has made it impossible for me to find employment there, now, since his family has no further use for me. He’s told everyone in Sussex who might be in need of a governess he would not allow them to employ me. Nor would he provide a letter of recommendation so I could seek employment elsewhere. He successfully cut off any avenue of future employment in England for me, leaving me no choice except to come here to assist you in raising your children. So, I’m afraid you are stuck with me, Mr. Lovejoy.” Her anger bubbled over as she spouted more words to him at one time than she had all day.

  Patterson shuffled his feet under the table as his uncle’s underhanded behavior was spelled out to him. He took a deep breath. “Well, then. I suggest we make the best of the situation.” He rose and returned his chair to its position under the table before he motioned to the room. “You’ve been quite busy today. The house hasn’t been so clean since the day my rowdy brood took over. Thank you.”

  “And your children are all clean and asleep.” Her soft voice still held some anger.

  “Thank you again. And dinner was one of the best meals I’ve had in a long time.” Patterson patted his belly.

  Eleanor clasped her hands together before she took a breath and glanced his way again. “You’ve been quite busy today, as well. There is a hint of tiredness around your eyes.”

  He brushed a hand over his face. “Daniel and I discussed the very same thing earlier this evening. We’re all tired, Miss Chastain, but we must fight on.”

  Eleanor fingered the shawl around her shoulders. “Yes, we must, mustn’t we?”

  Patterson took note of her discomfort. “You needn’t stay up with me. I’ve got a bit more to take care of before I call it a night.”

  “Good night then, Mr. Lovejoy.”

  Patterson yanked out the chair again and sat heavily, propping his elbows on the table. He’d had no idea the means by which Eleanor Chastain had arrived in his life. His uncle had exercised tyrannical behavior to send him this lifeline. His country was in the midst of a fight against just such tyranny. He could not be more hypocritical if he’d tried.

  Chapter Four

  E leanor woke while it was still dark and lay in bed, attempting to recollect where she was. The small room and the hard cot made the memory of her surroundings come back in full force and she fought to keep her tears at bay. Weeping had gotten her nowhere up until now, and she was certain her tears would have the same outcome here.

  She rose and took a deep, steadying breath as she splashed some water into the bowl and scrubbed her face. Her first full day in America. She had no idea what to expect, but with five growing children in the house, and a strong, healthy man, she figured breakfast would come before anything else. She entered the kitchen and encouraged the still warm wood stove to life, adding small pieces of wood to coax the cinders to a roaring blaze, before she placed a frying pan atop the stove. Soon, bacon sizzled in the pan and she had a pot of water approaching the boiling point to make oatmeal. She found the coffee grounds and set the coffee pot at the rear of the stove.

  Patterson emerged from his bedroom and joined her at the stove. “Good morning, Miss Chastain. The bacon smell woke me.” He stole a slice of bacon from the pan and devoured it, even though it was way too hot. He sucked on his burnt fingers before he smacked his lips. Her stomach churned at his nearness. No adult male had ever invaded her personal space before. As much as she wished to step away, she had to remain at the stove in order to stir the oatmeal.

  He placed a hand on her wrist. Again. Just as he had last night. She jerk
ed her hand away. The wooden spoon remained behind.

  Eleanor speared him with her gaze. “Do you wish for something, sir?”

  Patterson held her gaze, his brown eyes wide and unflinching. “Yes, I do. Another slice of bacon is tops on my list.” He smiled, flashing his white teeth. Then, he shrugged. “I fear we got off on the wrong foot yesterday. I had no idea my uncle coerced you into coming here. Although I desperately need the help, he was wrong to give you no choice in the matter. It’s too late in the year to send you back to England, since travel across the Atlantic halts during the winter. But if you’ll agree to stay until spring, I’ll give you a letter of recommendation and passage back to your homeland so you can find work in London.”

  Eleanor brushed a hand over her stomach. He was offering her a way out of her predicament! She stole a quick glance at him, then speared a slice of bacon with her fork and offered it to him. He grinned before he grabbed it from the fork and popped it into his mouth.

  “Thank you, sir. I will take you up on your offer. Spring will be here before long.” Eleanor removed the frying pan from the stove and put the bacon on a plate. She then took down bowls for the oatmeal and set the table.

  Patterson poured himself a cup of coffee and sat at the table, his gaze never leaving her as she bustled about the room. Finally, he stood. “I’ll wake the little ones so the oatmeal won’t get cold. And so I won’t devour all the bacon.” He flashed another grin at her. “And I feel, since we’re to be in the same house until spring, we should call each other by our given names. Don’t you agree, Eleanor?”

  “Yes, Mr. Lovejoy.”

  He continued to grin at her. “My name is Patterson. Pat for short.”