Page 7 of His Unforgettable Bride (Bride Ships: New Voyages #4)

Seven

Carry into the circles of society a refined, polished manner, and an amiable desire to please, and it will meet you with smiling grace, and lead you forward pleasantly along the flowery paths.

“Y ou and I need to hold a frank conversation,” Tabitha said from where she stood with her back to the sideboard in the kitchen, a stone’s throw from Juliet seated at the table bathed in a streak of late afternoon sunshine. The sister had tugged her brown hair into a severe bun on the top of her head, and her thin face was drawn equally tight. Even her tone carried a distinct sternness.

Juliet stopped polishing a brass candlestick. Uh-oh. What had she done? Clearly, something terrible. She set aside the candlestick and rag on the table and gave the sister her full attention. “Yes, ma’am.”

“I apologize for not addressing this before, but I’ve been busy with the patient.”

Was she talking about the parakeet’s escape? But hadn’t Tabitha said not to fret over the bird? “It’s all right.”

“Most definitely, it is not all right. Attending to the patient alone, barefooted, and”—Tabitha lowered her voice—“in your nightgown is unacceptable. What would people think if they knew you were in such a state around a man?”

“I won’t tell nobody if you don’t.”

After Tabitha closed her gaping mouth, she folded her hands. “Please tell me you understand what I’m saying.”

“My behavior was…wrong.”

“In so many words, yes.”

Juliet wiped her sweaty palms on her skirt. Starting a new position twenty-four hours ago and falling short in her employer’s eyes was dismal. She’d do almost anything not to lose another job. “I’m sorry.”

“I accept your apology.” Tabitha turned around, collected two floral teacups and saucers from an open shelf, and set them on the counter. She continued speaking over her shoulder. “There are certain rules a young woman in our household must heed, such as this one.”

“I understand.” Holy Moses, she had tried to do a good deed last night. Instead, she’d blundered and committed an indecent one. But she hadn’t expected the patient to rouse. Wasn’t the fact he’d awoken the more critical matter?

Tabitha opened a canister of tea. “I expect you to follow the rules precisely.”

“I’ll surely try.” Juliet resumed her polishing chore. She doused the rag in sweet oil and rubbed the cloth against the next tarnished candlestick, starting at the top.

She sighed. “I still have memories of waking up scared shortly after my grandfather’s death. Sometimes, they torment me. I was cold, alone, starving, and filthy. Back then, I’d have given anything to know someone cared. I aimed to spare the patient from feeling likewise.”

“Thank you for telling me.” Tabitha finished scooping tea into a silver infuser, closed it, and lowered it into the teapot. “And I’m sorry for your hardships, Juliet. You’ve had a heavy cross to bear, especially for a child. Nonetheless, modesty is a moral virtue.”

Although unsure what a virtue was, she nodded. “I’m not complaining, only trying to explain myself.”

“I understand.”

Life and Grandfather had taught her to offer a helping hand whenever possible. He often assisted the widows at church and even a bird with a hurt wing once upon a time. Deep inside, Juliet longed to be more like him.

Was that why she’d been so quick to help when she’d stumbled upon their patient unconscious in the woods? Maybe she was more like her grandfather than she’d realized.

It surprised her the patient had joked about drinking the ocean dry and calling himself a man of mystery. Not everyone in his situation would have jested in such a manner. Still, he had an arrogant bent, though she shouldn’t judge him too harshly since she barely knew him.

After he’d gazed into the mirror earlier today, he’d rolled onto his side, away from the women, and had grown silent. What was it like to peer into a looking glass and see a stranger? Crushing, most likely.

She hadn’t talked to him since. But her thoughts had wandered to him frequently as she’d completed her chores. The sisters had kept her busy opening shutters, starting fires, hauling soiled clothing to the washroom, cleaning mirrors, removing sparse cobwebs, wiping down the woodwork, running a feather duster over everything…and now polishing the silver.

Had she ever seen a less dusty, musty house? No. A suspicious person might think the sisters were plotting to keep her busy with chores and away from the patient. If so, their plan was working without a hitch.

Tabitha finished arranging the items on the tray and then carried them to the table. “I hope you like peppermint tea.”

Her employer was bringing her tea—Juliet, a servant—and after a scolding. What could that possibly mean?

She rested the cloth and candlestick on the table again. “It’s my favorite.”

“Mine too.” Tabitha placed the tray on the table. “I’ve ordered a variety of teas from India and expect the shipment to arrive any day now.”

“To serve in your tearoom?”

“Correct.” Tabitha lowered herself to the chair across from Juliet. “Do you have something more to say? Based on your quizzical expression, I believe you may.”

Juliet relaxed her facial muscles the best she could, not realizing she looked puzzled, even though she was. “I’m stewing because I thought you were angry with me. Instead, you did something kind. Thank you.”

“I’m not mad. However, if you haven’t noticed, I am persnickety, particularly regarding manners.”

Juliet had noticed, all right.

After the tea was steeped, Tabitha poured the liquid into each cup.

Juliet lifted her cup and blew on the steamy beverage.

“A lady never blows on her beverage to cool it.”

“Why not?”

“It’s impolite. She must wait to sip until it’s not too hot to burn her lips or tongue.”

“Well, I’ll be.” Juliet lowered her cup, clattering the saucer. Thankfully, not a drop spilled.

Tabitha’s gaze turned intent as she raised her cup, then peered over the rim. “Livy told me about the conversation you shared upstairs yesterday regarding us teaching you manners and more. Is that what you want?”

Did she? “Are you offering to assist me?”

“I’m asking you a question.”

“What I like is learning, always have. What I don’t is being disrespected or thought less of because I’m…improper sometimes. So yes, I’d be grateful for the opportunity, I suppose.”

A long moment passed before Tabitha spoke. “It will be a challenging undertaking, most likely.”

“For all of us, I wager.”

“Indeed. If you fully cooperate, Livy and I will instruct you. I’m not sure what that fully entails yet. However, long ago, someone helped us improve our lives. Now, we’re called to extend a helping hand similarly.”

Juliet’s heart hammered with a new intensity. “Like how you’re aiding the patient in the sitting room, whether he’s your relative or not.”

“Somewhat like that, yes.”

No matter what, she’d always be a woman with a thieving past. But maybe she could hide the truth better if the sisters prettified her manners. “I’d be much obliged.”

“If all goes according to plan, we’ll proceed with the first class in a day or two.”

Since arriving in the household, all Juliet had done was make one error after another. Other than her grandfather, who had ever helped her without expecting something in return?

There had been her friend Molly, whom she’d first met at an orphanage. After the mill closed back home, everyone lost their jobs. Juliet had moved into the tiny apartment Molly shared with her husband. About the time her friend learned a baby was coming, her husband collected two bad habits—drinking too much and calling Juliet beautiful daily. It hadn’t taken long for Molly to ask Juliet to leave. The request hadn’t been unreasonable and had likely been for the best, but it still stung.

Juliet sighed. Of course, the women from the bride ship—Willow and Daisy—only wanted friendship from her. Sage too. Mrs. Moresby had kindly assisted her twice.

Perhaps there were others, but she couldn’t think of anyone. Now she could add Tabitha and Livy to the tally. But the offer was almost too good to be true. Wasn’t it?

Juliet reached for her cup and sampled the hot but not unbearable tea. It boggled her mind that blowing on something scorching was impolite. What else had she been doing wrong all these years? The list was likely long.

The back door’s latch rattled, and she turned toward the noise. A fanlight, with small stones and white marble, was built into the wall above the door. How fancy for a kitchen. The door opened, and Icala entered, whistling after running an errand for the sisters. “Doctor Pooley’s wife says he’s still out of town.”

After he shed his dark overcoat and hung it on a metal hook near the door, he turned toward the table. His black shirt and trousers matched his hair, pulled back from his face, revealing his broad forehead. Even his eye patch matched his appearance.

At least Juliet had the good sense not to ask why he wore it. But she’d sure love to know.

He moved toward the stove with long strides. “The good news is that Peaches circles the yard.”

Relief flooded Juliet. The bird’s return would hopefully erase one of her errors. “Maybe he’ll swoop back inside if we open the door.”

“We will do no such thing.” Tabitha rose from her spot and picked up the tea tray. “There’s a chill in the air. If Peaches chooses to reenter, she’ll have to dive in the same method she snuck out.”

As if that would happen. Juliet almost snorted. Was Tabitha trying to teach the bird a lesson? Were parakeets that smart?

After putting away the tea supplies, Tabitha excused herself to check on the patient. Icala gathered and chopped vegetables on the sideboard as Juliet continued her polishing.

The rhythm of the native’s knife tap, tap, tapped . Then he lifted the lid from a black pot and sniffed. The scent of last night’s squash soup wafted through the kitchen. It smelled delicious and had accompanied moose steak, carrots with turnips, baked apples, and mince pie for supper—the best food Juliet had ever tasted. The competition wasn’t even close for second place.

Juliet pressed a hand against her growling stomach. “How’d you learn to cook so good?”

“My father, a white man, owned a restaurant in Montreal. He taught me everything I know.”

“Your soup was delicious.”

He glanced over his shoulder and grinned. “I know and thank you.”

“How’d you come to work here?”

“My father knew the sisters’ father, and I worked for him first. Mr. Sherwood was a first-rate man, much like his daughters. Well, except they’re females.”

Juliet chuckled. His approval of the sisters confirmed what she pondered in her heart—she’d been given a fresh start with a good family, and she must not ruin things. At the Firths’ she never forgot her station. Here, she slept alone in a room fit for a queen and drank tea with her employer.

Juliet helped herself to another sip.

Holding the spoon, Icala turned around, dripping soup. The man was as messy as Tabitha was tidy. Good thing Juliet hadn’t cleaned the floor yet today. “I wonder if the patient is ready to eat something?”

Before Juliet could reply, Tabitha bustled into the kitchen, her skirts rustling. “I believe he is indeed. Juliet, please carry whatever Icala has prepared for the young man. Thankfully, he’s awake and alert.”

Finally, she could check on the fella’s welfare for herself.

With a tray of food, Juliet followed Tabitha, mindful not to spill. They entered the patient’s room and found him upright in the bed. Livy was sitting in the sugar-barrel chair shoved close beside him. Tabitha positioned herself in front of the fireplace, and Juliet delivered the tray to the table in the corner, shoving bandages aside.

Then she turned to assess the patient. Dark shadows bloomed under his eyes, but a dab of color flushed his cheeks. His thick dark hair matched worn leather.

His handsome face could easily tongue-tie a young woman, even in its bruised and swollen state. And his soulful eyes carried a sadness that made her stride closer to the bed. How could she best help him?

Livy leaned forward, her plump face creased with concern. “Al-ex. Does your name trigger a memory?”

“Not in the least.”

“Sher-wood.” Livy drew out the two-syllable word as if the man’s brain needed extra time to operate. Maybe it did. “Do you recognize your last name?”

“It means nothing to me.” He rested his head against the headboard, a slump to his shoulders.

Was there a better method to spur his memories? For a moment, Juliet closed her eyes to scour her brain. Grandfather’s friends had called him Cobbie because he toiled as a cobbler. Her eyes popped open. “By any chance, has your nephew gone by anything other than Alex? A nickname, perhaps?”

“Now that you mention it, he did,” Tabitha said. “Our brother’s hair turned gray by the time he reached the age of thirty. Back home, it’s common to call such a man’s eldest son Grayson. Alex went by the name for years, though I’m unsure if he still does.”

The patient straightened, his eyes growing vast and almost wild. “Gray resonates with me.” He placed his chin in his palm as silence gathered until he continued. “I may be mistaken, but I sense Gray is my name. Even the word Grayson carries a vague familiarity.”

“Oh my. Oh my.” Livy rose and gently embraced him before standing beside her chair. “I knew you were family, and we’re elated your memory is returning. Aren’t we, Tabby?”

“Indeed.” Tabitha spoke the word dryly.

A skeptical thread wound tight inside Juliet. Hadn’t Livy leaped to a three-story conclusion? Yes, ma’am, she had. Couldn’t the name Gray belong to a horse or a family dog? Or maybe the street from where the man once hailed?

On the other hand, perhaps he’d discovered a link to his past. Who was she to cast doubt? “It’s a good, strong name.”

Clearing his throat, Icala slipped into the room. “Peaches flew inside.”

Livy clapped her hands. “Thank the Lord.”

Juliet drew in a breath of relief. “Yes, praise be.”

Icala’s expression, however, looked anything but pleased. “Another shipment has arrived for the tearoom, and I’m afraid everything fragile is shattered.”

“Oh my goodness.” Livy’s face turned pale, and she fanned herself. “That’s terrible, terrible, terrible.”

Tabitha hurried from the sitting room without a word but with her lips pressed tightly, followed by Livy and Icala.

Juliet stared at the door. Should she stay with the patient while he ate? Someone had remained with him constantly since he’d awakened, but was she the best person for the task?

At least she was wearing something other than her nightgown.

Society folks tended to assume a young man and woman couldn’t resist each other romantically while unchaperoned. What a crock full of nonsense, especially regarding her and him. Whyever would they need a chaperone? Not when he was battered and bruised and bedridden.

“I brought you soup. Would you care for a taste?”

“It smells wonderful.”

“I won’t argue with you on that score.” She retrieved the tray from the table and carried it to the bed. Carefully she set the offering on his lap. “Would you like me to feed you?”

“Feed me?” One of his dark brows quirked, and brown eyes homed in on her with a strangely arresting playfulness. “Tempting, very tempting. Though I shall manage unassisted, you may accompany me while I eat.”

“Hmm…” She wrinkled her nose. Bossy, wasn’t he? “I’ve known men like you.”

“Amnesiacs?”

“Men who make offhanded comments that women prefer not to hear, especially when they barely know the fellow.”

He lowered his spoon to the tray, the playfulness fading away. “I did not mean to offend.”

Was he being genuine and respectable, or the opposite? Not once had a slick-talking man ever caught her eye. They usually proved to be insincere and self-important.

She narrowed her gaze to him. Was he a womanizer? She’d give up two pence to know the truth.

He helped himself to a spoonful of soup, then another. “This nourishment is delicious, and I am feeling somewhat better.”

“I was going to ask but figured you might be weary of the question.”

“The sisters indeed fuss over me, although they mean well.” He took another taste of the soup. “My head still aches, though less intensely, and my memory continues to elude me, unfortunately.”

“I wish I knew how to prod your recollections, but sadly, I don’t.”

His brow arched. “Are you telling me you are not an expert on amnesia?”

“I’ve never heard the word until you arrived.” She tilted her head a notch. “With such a condition, how will you determine who you truly are?”

He wiped his mouth with the linen napkin. “I cannot stop thinking about that very question. For one thing, I shall confer with the constable at my earliest opportunity. Perhaps someone has reported a missing person.”

Why involve the law? Was there another way to learn the answers he sought? Maybe not. “You’ll go to him instead of him coming here, right?”

“Does it matter?”

Probably not. After all, she hadn’t done anything wrong at the Firths’. But Ruby had been so intent on regaining the stolen jewels, especially the Queen’s brooch. What if Ruby had alerted the law and persisted in accusing her? Would the crime eventually catch up to her here in Everly?

She could only pray it wouldn’t. After all, Ruby didn’t know where she’d moved.

Regardless, Juliet didn’t want a run-in with the local constable. Could she convince their patient to put it off? “The sisters said their nephew committed a crime. Are you sure you’re ready to meet with a lawman? Why not give it some time? Your memory might return before you know it.”

“What if it does not? I demand answers and must investigate the matter posthaste. Or whenever I am free of this bed.”

Juliet swallowed her additional protest and nodded. “Of course.”

How could she deny this poor man any leads that might help him discover his identity? She couldn’t. Doing so would be selfish. In fact, she understood better than most people what it was like to lose a family and be alone. He deserved her sympathy more than anything. And she intended to deliver it.