Free The Bride Insists by Jane Ashford Page B

waste our time in a schoolroom.”
    â€œOr learn ‘genteel accomplishments.’” Tegan almost spit the final word.
    â€œOr take orders from a stupid city ‘lady’ who knows nothing about us.” It was back to Tamsyn for the grim finish.
    Clare heard hurt in that last sentence. These little girls had noticed her startlement at their very existence, and she was sorry for that, though it was not her fault. She met two pairs of intense dark eyes. The twins were trembling with determination and anxiety. Pity rose in her. Their world had changed, and they’d had no say in the revolution, not even a mention. She understood only too well what that felt like. It was tempting to open her arms, to offer them kindness and reassurance. But Clare knew that the softer emotions would be suspiciously rejected right now. Jamie’s sisters were declaring war. They had no reason to trust her, and they would despise conciliation as much as rebukes.
    For the first time, Clare was thankful that she’d been a governess for six years. She’d dealt with children so spoiled by indulgence that they’d scarcely heard the word “no,” and with some whose heedless parents had allowed them to hatch schemes of amazing guile and complexity. She’d once had to quell a full-on tantrum in the middle of a crowded ballroom, while peers of the realm stood back in helpless consternation. The twins had no idea what they were up against. “I see. Is that all?” she said cordially.
    The girls gaped at her.
    â€œCan you tell me the way to the kitchen?” Clare added. “I’m looking for some breakfast.”
    After a further bewildered pause, Tamsyn pointed. Clare smiled at her and set off in the indicated direction. It would be amusing to hear what the sisters said to each other when she was gone. But she thought she could predict most of it.
    The large old-fashioned kitchen, with its associated storerooms and a space for servants’ meals, occupied the lower level of the north wing. Clare found Anna Pendennis stirring a pot of porridge that hung over a bed of coals in the big kitchen hearth. “Good morning,” she said.
    The old woman dropped a small curtsy. “Milady.”
    â€œI slept so long that I’m quite hungry,” Clare added with a friendly smile.
    The old woman nodded. “You look like you could use some feeding up, and no mistake. I’ve got this porridge here, and there’s bread and good butter and jam. I’ll tell you straight out, though, milady, I’m no great shakes as a cook. When the old master was alive, we had Mrs. Fitch to manage the kitchen. Gone up to Penzance years ago to work in some merchant’s house.”
    â€œAh.” Clare could see from where she stood that the porridge was rather lumpy. “Is there tea?”
    â€œAye. That I can do.” Mrs. Pendennis hooked a steaming iron kettle from over the fire and grasped it with a cloth. She poured the hot water over leaves already waiting in a china pot.
    Clare sat down at the well-scrubbed kitchen table and began her meal. Mrs. Pendennis’s lack of surprise at this informality told her more about the state of the household. “I’d like to get you some help as soon as possible. I wondered if you could recommend anyone?”
    â€œThere’s a couple of girls in the village might do. They’d like the wages, I know.” The old woman gave Clare a sharp glance, and Clare nodded carefully in response. Anna Pendennis pursed her wrinkled lips, satisfied. They understood each other. There would be regular wages from now on. “I’ll put out the word, like.”
    â€œGood. I’ll just tell his lordship—”
    â€œMr. Jamie’s already out on the land,” said Mrs. Pendennis. “Like to be gone all day, he said. Home for dinner.”
    â€œOh.” Clare was briefly taken aback. She hadn’t even seen him since the