Page 17 of Love Thy Enemy (The Vaughns #4)

“I s Mrs. Stuart causing trouble at the school?” asked Gregory.

“Heavens, no,” said Walter with a vehement shake of his head. “If that was it, I could manage it well enough. I will not allow anyone to disturb my students. However, her reappearance has had an effect on his studies over the past fortnight. And what with the gifts—”

“Gifts?” asked Gregory, jerking to a stop.

“I didn’t realize who the sender was until after they’d already been given the packages,” said Walter as he came to stand before his brother-in-law.

“Wesley and Jackson were quiet about it, and I didn’t see a need to demand answers or insist they surrender the trinkets, but Clark said he destroyed his.

The lad has grown so angry of late. Ever since his mother arrived, his marks have slipped, and his aggression toward the other students has increased. ”

Gregory’s chest tightened. Doubly so when he spied the hesitation in the fellow’s expression. “And?”

Drawing in a breath, Walter straightened.

“If not for his extenuating circumstances, his behavior would warrant expulsion, but the lads involved and their parents are sympathetic concerning Clark’s loss.

They are patient now, but if matters grow worse, I cannot in good conscience allow him to stay—and I fear the damage such an action might do to him. ”

When Rodney had asked Gregory to be his children’s guardian, the answer had seemed so clear.

Simple. Not only had he adored their father, but he’d known these children for most of their lives.

Yet he couldn’t help but wonder if he would’ve accepted the position had he recognized the difficulties ahead.

Heart shuddering, he shook away that thought. There was no good to be had in considering that question. Especially with Mrs. Stuart lingering in the shadows, waiting to pounce.

“That woman,” muttered Gregory, shaking his head as the pair continued down the lane.

“I will do my utmost to force Mrs. Stuart back to Leeds, and then I hope that Clark will settle, but do keep me apprised. No matter how busy I am, send for me if matters grow worse. I do not want Clark or your school to suffer because of this.”

Walter nodded, and the pair followed after the string of children.

Just ahead stood Hawthorne House—that old, familiar place that he knew better than any other.

The building in which he’d taken his first breath.

His first steps. The home of his childhood.

His youth. For all that he had settled into his own rooms above the apothecary shop some years ago, this was the building he still thought of as his.

The gate latch still stuck, and the flagstones bore the same uneven tilt.

The ivy, thick and resolute, had climbed a few inches higher along the timbered corners, but the plaster remained whitewashed and bright, its surface catching the sun just as it always had.

Roses still draped over the trellis by the door, their petals caressing the frame.

Little had changed in the years, yet it felt wholly different somehow.

Of course, some of that had to do with its new master and mistress.

With the local physician stepping down and his son taking over his work (and Edward’s brood growing too numerous for their former rooms), it had been practical for them to exchange homes with Mother and Father.

The smaller quarters were better suited for the older couple. Or so they claimed.

Gregory couldn’t help wondering how difficult it was for Mother to see her home now in the hands of another. Even if Joanna was like her own flesh and blood.

When the children arrived at the front gate, the younger three charged through with shrieks and gales of laughter, which earned an echoing chorus from around the side of the cottage.

Along the back sat the large kitchen and physic garden that supplied the herbs and vegetables required for the house and Edward’s medical practice, but lawn covered the rest, and his brother and sister-in-law had placed chairs along the side, providing a respite for those who did not wish to run about the grass.

Before Gregory could say a word, Eva stripped off her shoes and stockings, her bare toes digging into the lawn as she chased after little Caroline.

Edward’s eldest gaped at the display for only a moment before Caro and her sister tore across the grass, eager to keep clear of Eva’s grasp, lest they be caught and lose whatever game they had decided upon without any clear coordination.

Meanwhile, Walter’s eldest tried to follow after, though she and her cousins, Oscar and Marianne, were a touch too young to keep up with that elder group.

With his thoughts still spinning with news of Daphne and Clark, Gregory considered whether or not he might sneak around to the back of the house; a few moments splitting wood always helped to clear his head and to keep the fires fed.

No one ever seemed to notice that the Vaughns never wanted for kindling, and Gregory was quite happy to leave his habit unnoticed.

But thoughts of the axe and logs fled as his family approached to greet him.

“Darling,” called Sadie with little Maxwell on her hip as she strode to her husband and greeted him with a kiss on the cheek before turning to her brother, bestowing another buss on him. “It is good to see you, Gregory. How are you faring?”

“As well as can be expected,” he said, though his answer drifted off into a questioning tone when Mother came forward to greet them as well.

Mrs. Violet Vaughn was a formidable lady.

Her height was not as recognizable when amongst her brood, yet still, there was a power to her presence that spoke of one who would ensure that everything was spit-spot and ship-shape.

Yet her usual smile was absent from her face.

Or rather, it was fleeting, appearing when her children approached and fading just as quickly.

There was a tightness to her features and dark circles beneath her eyes that lent a haggard edge to her appearance, and Gregory could well imagine the strain she was bearing.

“I miss your visits, my boy,” said Mother. But the moment the words fell from her lips, she waved them away. “I apologize. I did not mean that as a condemnation. I know you have more pressing matters to attend to, but your father and I simply haven’t seen you in a while. That is all.”

Edward and Joanna gave their greetings from afar as they waded through the horde of children, and Walter held out his arm to his wife, leading her into the fray to give some semblance of order to the fracas, whilst the maid set out the tea and cakes.

But Gregory didn’t see his father amongst them. Turning about, he searched for the gentleman in question, but he was nowhere to be seen.

“Where is Father?” he asked, and the exhaustion redoubled in Mother’s eyes, her smile tightening at the edges.

“He decided it was best to remain at home. He was fatigued,” she said in a tone that Gregory knew all too well.

In his younger years, he would’ve dismissed it as nothing important, but with forty years to his credit, Gregory had learned much about his parents.

His mother had always seemed stalwart and invulnerable, ready and eager to overcome any obstacle that came her way, and though he still knew that to be true, there was another truth sitting right below it: Mother took too much on herself.

Given her parents and brother, it was little wonder, but she needn’t manage everything on her own now.

But before he could say a word, Faith appeared at her side. No doubt the child would’ve stood there all day long, silently waiting for someone to acknowledge her, but Mother was quick to notice the intrusion and bestowed a genuine grin on the child.

“Well, hello there, Faith. Is that a new book?” she asked.

Faith nodded, her eyes brightening.

With a gentle smile, Mother asked, “Will you read it to me?”

Such a little question, yet the girl beamed as though that was the greatest gift she had ever received.

Taking Mother by the hand, she led her to a pair of chairs.

Being eleven years of age, the girl was far too large to cuddle upon the lady’s lap, though Gregory could see the desire to do just that.

But Faith settled her own chair close beside her and leaned the book on the arms between them before resting her head against Mother’s shoulder.

The younger children continued their frantic games whilst the elder set settled in with the adults, and seeing his family welcome the Stuarts so readily into their midst set Gregory’s heart burning.

It wasn’t as though they’d discussed his situation and come to an agreement that the children were now Vaughns; his family had simply enveloped them, accepting them as their own.

Going over to where Eva had shed her shoes and stockings, Gregory picked them up and placed them on one of the seats so that they wouldn’t be forgotten, alongside the doll that Eva had abandoned during their play. And a bit of Walter’s conversation snapped into place as he stared at the poppet.

Hadn’t Mrs. Stuart sent the boys gifts? Would she show the lads such favoritism, or would she have sent all the children something to win them over? Surely, the staff would’ve alerted him if the children had received something from Mrs. Stuart. They knew she wasn’t permitted to contact them.

Gregory stared at the doll, uncertain whether or not this was the usual one Eva favored, but for the life of him, he couldn’t recall what that one looked like beyond the fact that it existed. Poppets all looked alike, after all.

Yet Eva didn’t carry them about. So, why was there one here, now?

“Eva,” called Gregory, his gaze fixed on the toy. Better to be certain.

It took a few calls of her name before the child realized he was speaking to her, but she dashed across the lawn and settled to a stop before him, her hair pulling free of its ribbon.

“Yes, Mr. Gregory?” Eva bounced on her toes, her eyes darting toward the others, her thoughts only partially on her guardian.

“Where did you get this poppet?”

“It was a present,” she said, reaching for it.

That was clear enough, for the child hardly had the money to buy such a thing. “From who?”

Eva darted forward, snatching up the doll and squeezing it to her chest. “Mama.”

Gregory stiffened, his brows rising as his gaze darted to the others. Though the elder children didn’t seem to notice, little Faith stiffened in her seat beside Mother. Carefully, she closed the book and drew it to her chest as well with a wary look at Gregory.

“May I see it, Eva?” he asked.

Shaking her head, the child clutched the toy tighter as she inched away. “It’s mine.”

“Please, I just wish—”

“No!” She clung to the doll and glared at him before scurrying out of reach. A hush stole over the garden as the others became aware of the tension between the pair, and though the adults attempted to draw the children’s attention away, Eva made that impossible.

“It is mine! I won’t let you take it.”

“I didn’t say I would. I simply wish to see it.

” Though in truth, Gregory wasn’t certain why he wanted the doll so much.

It wasn’t as though Mrs. Stuart had poisoned the thing, yet just the thought of her having given it so secretly sent a rippling wave of unease through him.

A feeling that grew as the child stubbornly refused to listen.

Eva turned, placing her back between him and the doll, and all thoughts of Mrs. Stuart fled as a greater issue arose to the forefront.

“I told you to give me the doll,” said Gregory, infusing his voice with the sort of command that usually inspired obedience, but she fled instead. “Eva!”

Frustration bubbled in his chest, causing his jaw to set, and Gregory tried to hold fast to his patience, but the issue of Mrs. Stuart was no longer the center of his concern. Eva glanced back at him, her chin jutted out as she once more ignored him and did as she pleased.

“Eva, you little brat!” barked Clark, stomping over to his sister. “Give that ratty thing to Mr. Gregory. You don’t want anything from that woman.”

“Clark!” called Gregory, following after the lad, but he was on his sister in a flash. As Clark was so much larger than her, it wasn’t hard for him to pin her down, and Gregory rushed over, lifting him off her. “Stop that. I will handle this.”

The moment he released the boy, Clark spun about and shoved at him. “I am trying to help!”

“I do not require your help,” barked Gregory. “You do not hurt your sister. Or anyone. Ever. That is not how you behave. Do you hear me?”

Now, both Clark and Eva were glaring daggers, their eyes burning into him as though he were the worst of villains.

Glancing between the pair, he didn’t have the slightest notion what to do.

Having led his family’s business for so many years, Gregory knew well enough that ignoring disrespect and rebellion only fostered more.

Such things festered, destroying everything they touched.

Yet these weren’t insolent apprentices whose family had hired him to lead and guide them. These were children. Rodney’s children. Whom he had valued most in the world and had entrusted to Gregory’s care.

Rubbing his forehead, Gregory considered what to do—but what could he do? He could bully them into submission, but the thought sat sour in his stomach. And what was their crime? Mourning their father? Struggling with a major shift in their lives?

“Did your mother give you the doll?” asked Gregory.

Eva refused to answer, but Daphne gave a single, nearly silent word. “Yes.”

Glancing between the children, Gregory brushed off his frockcoat and wandered over to his mother. “Is Father at home? Would you watch over them while I pay him a call?”

The lady nodded, but when he moved to leave, she grabbed him by the arm, tugging him to her. “Running away isn’t going to solve the problem, love. Stay and speak with the children.”

But when Gregory glanced about and spied the varying shades of anger, disgust, and fear, he squeezed his mother’s hand and strode toward the front gate once more. With each step, he felt the pall lifting from over the party, and his shoulders fell at that.

How had things spun so quickly out of control?

That question hung in the air, poking at him and prodding his feet forward.

A modicum of the strain left him as he put distance between himself and the children, but it was of little comfort as the weight in his chest redoubled as he considered how quickly his temper had gotten the better of him.

Those children deserved better.