He dropped her arm at the door when he realized she hadn’t eased away from him on her own. She remained close enough that, when he inhaled, the jasmine perfume she often wore filled his lungs. It was a pleasant scent. A subtle fragrance he’d always associated with the woman.
Much like the knowledge that she would only marry a man who’d made something of himself.
Except that wasn’t to be either.
He steeled his heart against that disappointment and unlocked the house using his key.
Inside, the property was a good deal cooler than outside. He kept his hat in his hands and overcoat on to ward off the chill. Melanie, dressed in a light wool coat, rubbed her arms briskly while she inspected the lower floor of the property and then disappeared upstairs, clutching her garments around her as if she were chilled through.
She’ll need a thicker coat for winter.
“What am I doing?” he muttered to himself. He glanced down.
For heaven’s sake, the woman can take care of herself. She doesn’t even want a man in her life; much less have me fussing over her. Let it go!
He nodded and then checked the quality of work on the rear windows. By the time he was done with his inspection, so was she.
Her firm nod of approval brought relief. “They’ll manage well enough here. Have the chimney’s been swept in recent time? A good fire will warm up the space enough that they will be very cozy indeed.”
He glanced around. “That is what I hoped for too, so the sweeps were here last week.”
She stopped at his side, a little behind him, as the vicar approached. “Well, this is quite a fine house for the widow until she remarries,” the vicar enthused.
“I doubt she will ever remarry. Mrs. Clemens loved her husband dearly and keenly feels his loss.” He expected the family to need support for some time to come, at least until the elder children found work. “It will suit for the winter and then in the spring, we will see what else can be done.”
He gestured for Melanie to precede him from the house and she hurried away from the vicar and his dark scowls.
The vicar held him back when he would have followed. “I do not like the way that woman constantly sticks her nose where it is not wanted.”
Melanie’s interest in those less fortunate than herself was one of the few things Walter had always liked about her. Despite her haughtiness, she was always very willing to show kindness to widows and children. More than one little girl in Brighton wore a pretty new smock embellished with Melanie’s stitches. He couldn’t understand why she would not want to have her own offspring to spoil. “Is that so?”
“Indeed. She’s hardly the sort to set a good example, the way she taunts proper gentlemen.” The vicar glanced toward the door. “She should be minding a husband’s concerns by her age.”
“Pease!” Walter warned in a low voice. “You are aware that Miss Merton is my neighbor, and my friend’s sister, are you not?”
“Yes, well, I don’t doubt that places you at a disadvantage.” Pease grimaced. “But a man must be free to speak his mind. I’m sure it will be impossible to send her away.”
“Indeed it would be, since I have no wish to do so. Any gossip you may have heard of her is completely false and a product of a small minded and petty individual I assure you.” Walter scowled and ushered him to the door so he could lock the house. “Do not feel you must accompany us to see Mrs. Clemens. Good day, sir.”
He strolled to Melanie, wrapped her arm about his, and steered her away from the man. “Mr. Pease will not be joining us.”
She peered over her shoulder. “He does not approve of me.”
“You heard.”
She sighed and put a distance between them. “It is impossible
not
to hear someone used to delivering sermons and every other word at the top of his lungs. You’ve no need to speak up for me, or accompany me to see Mrs. Clemens. I can go alone.”
“Impossible. I was going to see her now myself. We might as well walk there together.” He glanced over his shoulder. Assured they’d left the odious man behind, Walter slowed his pace. “I didn’t realize you were acquainted with Mrs. Clemens.”
“She was Andy’s friend. We used to visit her when I was a girl.” Melanie worried at her lip. “We’ve never moved in the same circles, of course, but after Andy died, every Christmas and at Easter, I have made something new for Mrs. Clemens and her girls.”
“I see,” he murmured. He was touched she’d been so generous to an old friend of her governess’s. “Once Mrs. Clemens is settled in her new home, I must broach the subject of her children’s futures with her, but perhaps you know the family better than I and could offer advice.”
“There are so many.” An odd catch in her voice when she spoke of the children made him wonder if she ever regretted her decision about not having her own.
“Mr. Clemens was devoted to his wife and she was devoted to him. With such affection, it is inevitable that an abundance of children would follow,” he murmured.
“I’ve been to visit her several times since the accident.” She glanced up at him. “The elder pair of children might suit as a maid or footman if only they were a little older.”
The elder girl was also very pretty, and could easily end up in the wrong sort of company if her mother didn’t keep a watchful eye. “I thought so too. Unfortunately, I don’t know of anyone in need of a maid or footman so young at the moment.”
“Julia does.” Melanie frowned. “Or perhaps it would be correct to say I could need a new servant. My maid now tends to Julia first.”
“That is a very good suggestion. I will speak to Valentine about it tonight.”
“You cannot. I fear Mrs. Clemens would be upset if her eldest child was taken into employment so soon after losing her husband. She quite relies on the girl.”
Economics demanded someone in the family had to find employment, and soon. “At your brother’s house, she will not be so far away as to trouble Mrs. Clemens’s heart, and if there was still concern, perhaps she would be reassured if the girl tended to you instead of Julia.”
“It might work if circumstances were different.” She turned her face away. “I have been thinking it might be better for Valentine and Julia if I wasn’t living with them.”
“Where would you go?” He stopped Melanie outside Mrs. Clemens’s residence and stared into a face grown even paler than when he’d first seen her that day.
“I am reconsidering my decision to remain in Brighton. Perhaps it would be best if I return to my parents before the festive season is upon us.”
He was stunned. “But I thought that business of you leaving was forgotten?”
“I have come to believe you were correct. I am not needed here.” She hurried to the weather-beaten door and rapped sharply on it before he could refute her words.
She
was
needed. She was
wanted
.
A boy of about twelve met them and ushered them into a shabby front room. “Miss Merton is here again, Mama.”
Mrs. Clemens sat with her youngest child on her knee, staring into a cold hearth. She blinked and looked around. When she made to rise and greet them, Melanie quickly urged her to remain seated and took a place at her side. “Mr. George has come with good news for you.”
The babe Mrs. Clemens held reached for Melanie, and to his surprise, she perched the child on her lap as if she were accustomed to it. He tore his gaze away as she fussed, rewrapping the child in a blanket to keep him warm. There was a definite chill in the room. Apparently his help couldn’t come too soon.
He cleared his throat. “Yes, indeed. I have a house to offer you on Russell Road. It might be a bit cramped at first, but should do well enough for the winter.”
Mrs. Clemens nodded, and then shook her head as if she couldn’t believe what she was hearing.
Melanie juggled the child to grasp the woman’s hand. “It is true. You have a home again.”
Mrs. Clemens topped sideways onto Melanie’s shoulder and sobbed, great gasping tears that brought her children running into the room. Melanie put her arm around the woman. “Children, would you take young Vincent and see if you cannot find his rattle? Your mother needs a moment.”
The eldest girl took her brother with a smile and dragged her brothers and sisters with her. Melanie squeezed Mrs. Clemens as if they were old friends. “They always listen to Beatrice, don’t they?”
Mrs. Clemens turned her head toward Melanie. “I don’t know what I would do without her.”
“Well, thanks to Mr. George’s generosity, you’ll never need to find out.” She cast a warm smile in his direction and then dug a fine white handkerchief from her reticule to dab away the woman’s tears. “Now, would you like to hear about your new home? It is clean and vacant and you will be able to move there today.”
Walter filled Mrs. Clemens’s ears with the particulars of the property, the nearest neighbors, while also stressing it would be a bit of a squeeze. He stood and checked the time on his pocket watch. “I have arranged for four fellows to lend a hand with the heavy lifting if that is acceptable to you. Honest and trustworthy men who will take care of everything you require done and give you no cause for concern. They should be here directly. This is your key.”
The woman grasped it tightly to her chest. “I don’t know how I can ever repay you.”
He smiled at her warmly. “Some of my happiest memories are of hearing Mr. Clemens sing in the tavern, and I was very sorry to hear of his death. To do any less for his widow would be to slight those happy memories.”
Her eyes welled with tears again. “He had a fine singing voice.”
“He did indeed.”
While Melanie said her goodbyes, Walter silently observed her. Today she’d discarded her reserve in order to comfort the grieving widow. She was good with children, and although it wasn’t his place—or wise—a compulsion to explain something to her that would be positively shocking stirred in him.
Avoiding children did not mean she must not marry.
Melanie was making a mistake in denying herself the chance to be happy, and she was clearly unaware of the alternatives.
Eleven
With the matter of moving Mrs. Clemens into her new home underway, Melanie allowed herself a moment to relax. “You are a good man, Mr. George.”
And generous. She’d had trouble hiding her astonishment at his offer of a home for the family earlier, and later again in the arrangements he’d made for moving them there. He’d also ensured they’d have food on the table and in the pantry. She couldn’t imagine another soul being so generous without expecting something in return.
“Don’t sound so surprised,” he said quietly.
His tone was very much like the Walter she’d always met with in the past—self-deprecating and calm—and her nerves settled. She was sorry circumstances prevented them from being on good terms all the time.
He sighed. “Now, we have the walk home for privacy, so tell me what you did to put the vicar’s nose so far out of joint that he would be openly rude to you.”
To explain would remind Walter of the reason for their quarrel, and while she did not want to fight with him, she also could not ignore his request. “He feels I set a bad example by not having married yet, and I suppose he is right.”
Walter rubbed his jaw in that way he usually did when he was thinking. “You have turned down your fair share of suitors, so it’s bound to draw criticism.”
She stiffened.
He nodded politely to an acquaintance they passed. “Not that I don’t now have some idea why you refused them.”
“You don’t understand.” He certainly hadn’t the other day, and she didn’t expect that to change. No one understood. Even Valentine looked at her as if she were a stranger.
“I believe I do in a way.” He frowned. “Your former suitors failed to make you care for them. You never considered any other response.”
His words chilled her. “Are you trying to say that I’m incapable of deeper feelings?”
Walter shook his head. “If you had liked them, or thought you could learn to love even one of those fellows, given a longer acquaintance, your answers might have been different. I suppose from your point of view, you did them a kindness.”
She faced forward, feeling her face heating all over again. He
did
understand. “There is no point in marrying only to be miserable. I have witnessed that firsthand through my parents’ marriage.”
“Not all marriages are bad ones and you are certainly capable of deeper feelings,” he continued. “You’ve grown to love Julia as a sister—and we both know you enjoyed being kissed so, clearly, you are not unaffected if approached the right way.”
“That was…” She swallowed. “You caught me by surprise but I should not have allowed it. I am truly sorry.”
His eyelids lowered, and a tiny smile appeared on his lips. “I gave you plenty of time to get away.”
She couldn’t protest it wasn’t true. She’d had ample time and opportunity to avoid the second kiss he’d pressed to her lips. She couldn’t explain why she hadn’t moved but the idea of turning him away hadn’t once crossed her mind. It wasn’t until after the kiss that she’d realized what she’d done. She’d led him on unintentionally.
He leaned close. “As much as I’d like to discuss kissing, I have something else on my mind today that I want to talk to you about.”