Free Madcap Miss by Joan Smith

”
    “ Perhaps you ’ re right. She talked me into letting her go to Ireland with Mary. I hope she isn ’ t homesick — she ’ s been gone a month. They ’ ll be back soon. ”
    “ Perhaps she ’ ll be there waiting for you when you return. ”
    “ Not quite that soon. In any case, my sister is bringing her back, so Gussie would not be alone at Downsfield. ” He glanced at the remains of chicken. “ What are we to do with the rest of this meat? ”
    “ Eat it, of course. Do you have a pocket knife to carve that lovely breast? ”
    Whewett shook his head, wondering where such a small girl put so much food. He cut it into thin strips, to be eaten with the fingers. “ Does your sister know you are here? ” Grace asked.
    “ I didn ’ t write. They know at home where I am, and would tell her if she came. ”
    “ I hope she doesn ’ t come landing in with the real Augusta! ”
    “ Not much chance of that. But enough of my problems. What will you do when you leave? ”
    “ I ’ ll try to find Miss Thomas, get a new position. My hundred pounds gives me time to look around. ”
    Whewett mentally compared their futures. “ It sounds a hard life for a young girl. Yes, I know you are all of two and twenty, but that happens to sound young to me. Would you like to go to Ireland? I could speak to Mary about you. With two girls, she might have some use for you. ”
    “ I never thought of Ireland, ” Grace said pensively. If Mary were like her brother, she would be a congenial employer.
    “ Think about it. It is unfair that one of my daughters get so much, while the other is thrown into the cruel world with a measly hundred pounds. ”
    “ All things are relative. A measly hundred pounds sounds a princely sum to me at the moment. ”
    Whewett soon left but continued thinking of what they had discussed. It did indeed seem hard that poor Miss Farnsworth be put to such shifts to earn her bread. She had been reared a lady and was not equipped for this hard life that was thrust upon her. Such a girl might come to grief — a lecherous son or husband, for instance, in some home where she was working, could ruin her.
    Behind the closed door Grace entertained no such lugubrious thoughts. She ate her chicken, carefully wrapped the apple tart up for the morrow, read her book, and occasionally thought of her good fortune at soon having a hundred pounds in her reticule.
     

Chapter Six
     
    Lady Healy blamed her headache the next morning on the weather. The air was not so cool and clear as the air of the Highlands. Her headache, however, was no reason for Augusta ’ s regime to be interrupted. Grace was sent off to the garden with her rope before the sun became too warm.
     Whewett was back on his glue pot to decide which corners of the estate were to be concealed from Daugherty and which brought to his attention. With Bronfman ’ s help, local girls were hired to clean up the house. They were busy with goose wing to dust the library books, with beeswax and turpentine to restore the gleam to old wood, with soap and water to clean windows, and with damp tea leaves to keep down the dust when they swept the carpets.
    Grace skipped for the ten minutes Lady Healy observed her, then darted off to walk through the grounds and enjoy herself. When Whewett returned for lunch, Lady Healy felt well enough to come to the table, but she was feeling peaky.
    “ I ’ ll have a lie-down this afternoon while you take Augusta into Wickfield , ” she decided. The old lady was so unlike herself that Grace got a piece of plum cake onto her plate without censure.
    The day was pleasant, with just a hint of early autumn approaching. Whewett let down the carriage windows. “ You have a rare treat in store for you today, Doll, ” he said.
    “ Indeed I have. I can lower my voice from a childish squeak and not call you Papa. ”
    “ Even better, you are about to receive a present that will help pass those dull hours in your room. Grandma has