His Lordship's True Lady (True Gentlemen #4)(32)
Why ask about him? “He’s harmless and bored, drunk more often than he’s sober. If he’s to take over the family fortune, he has much to learn, and he doesn’t seem to be in any hurry to learn it.”
Tippy’s needle moved in a patient rhythm. “Or his father isn’t in a hurry to teach him.”
Walter spun a web of influence and money, money and influence. He’d never turn over control of the finances to Oscar willingly, but if Oscar made himself useful, he’d at least be prepared when the transition became inevitable.
“Tippy, do you recall meeting the Earl of Grampion’s heir?”
Tippy gazed off into the middle distance, sunlight gleaming on her poised needle. “Tall boy, blond, quiet? Odd name, something German. He was named for where his mother’s people came from.”
Increasingly, Tippy’s recollections were like this—a mosaic of useless detail, speculation, and the occasional relevant fact. She still gave off the vibrant intelligence she’d had earlier in life, suggesting to Lily that Tippy simply disliked the memories of Lily’s childhood.
“His given name is Hessian,” Lily said, “and he informed me that, as a girl, I detested bugs.”
Tippy’s hands fell to her lap, hoop, needle, and all. “Oh dear.”
Lily waited while Tippy frowned at the cabbage rose carpet.
“Children are invisible,” Tippy said, smoothing a finger over the French knots in her embroidery. “They don’t attend social functions, often don’t use courtesy titles, and are mostly relegated to nurseries and schoolrooms.”
Daisy was not invisible to Grampion, which was good. Lily was not invisible to him either, which was not good, however useful it might be for Uncle Walter.
“Outings to the park were very frequent,” Tippy said. “Headstrong little girls benefit from fresh air and a chance to move about. Other children played in the park, some with nannies, some at that awkward age, boys not quite ready for university, impossible to occupy with studies all day. You could have met him on any number of occasions, possibly met the spare as well.”
Tippy scooted about on her cushions and produced a small flask from some hidden pocket. She tipped a dollop of amber liquid into her tea.
“For my hip.”
“Tippy, Grampion says we did meet.”
Another dollop. “Then you explain to him that you’re not right in the brainbox, you took a bad fall in Switzerland, and you can’t recollect as well as other people. It happens.”
It had not happened to Lily. “He noticed that bit about the bugs, he might notice some other inconsistency. Lying doesn’t solve all problems, and one grows weary of deception.”
One grew weary of being a deception.
“One does not grow tired of eating, Miss Lily. One does not grow tired of having a safe place to sleep, or a warm cloak in winter. You’ve read all the diaries, you’ve learned all I have to teach you. You’ve spent years being accepted as Walter Leggett’s niece, and he’s a powerful man.”
The problem in a nutshell. No one dared cross Uncle Walter, least of all a frightened, half-starved fourteen-year-old girl who had no other options and didn’t own a set of stays.
“Would you care for a nip, miss? It’s a patent remedy and works a treat.”
“No, thank you.” Oscar could dwell in a continuous state of inebriation, but Lily dared not return home with a “patent remedy” on her breath. “The boy who recalled my disgust of bugs is the earl now, and Uncle wants me to cultivate his friendship.”
“I wish I could help, miss.”
Tippy had helped. For years, she’d been Lily’s sole companion, her guide and support. That support was slipping, and not only because Tippy had decided to grow forgetful. If women occupied a vulnerable position in society, older women with neither fortune nor family navigated a sea of risks daily.
Lily rose. “If you recall anything, please do send for me.” Notes were not a prudent way to communicate information of substance.
Tippy set aside her embroidery and pushed to her feet, though she moved more slowly than she had even a year ago.
“Tippy, are you ever lonely?”
Lily was lonely. Amid other emotions—terror, resentment, anxiety—loneliness had lurked unnoticed until recently. The girl Daisy had awakened it, and Grampion had given the loneliness a bitter, hopeless edge.
“I like my own company,” Tippy said, linking arms with Lily and walking her to the door. “And I’m always glad to see you, but it might be best if you didn’t come around for a bit, Lily. You can send me a note if you think I might be able to recall a detail or two, but I’ve grown forgetful, and it’s all very much in the past.”
Tippy had begun making this suggestion that Lily keep her distance about a year ago.
“Has Uncle Walter threatened you?” Though, if anything, Uncle would threaten Tippy for a lack of recall.
“No, miss. What’s he to threaten me with? I have more than a bit put by after all these years. I help you to the best of my ability whenever you ask it of me. I’ve never breathed a word to anybody, and I never will. I was governess to Miss Lily Ferguson, and she will always be in my prayers.”
And yet, something was changing, despite the tidy sameness of Tippy’s cottage. Lavender sachets held back the curtains. A rose velvet footstool sat before the window-end of the sofa. Embroidered cabbage roses adorned pillows, table runners, and framed samplers. Tippy even smelled faintly of roses, not a scent she could have afforded while in service.