A Mother In The Making. Gabrielle Meyer

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ

      She wished to say she had led a boring life, but the past few weeks had proven otherwise. Hopefully he hadn’t read the Chicago newspapers recently. They had covered the jilting and Marjorie’s subsequent departure from her parents’ home. But why wouldn’t they? Who would deign to reject Preston Chamberlain?

      Marjorie, that was who.

      Dr. Orton stood and motioned for her to follow him out of his office. He was a tall man, exuding confidence and authority as he strode to the door. “I will see that our cook sets a plate for you to join us for supper, and then you’re welcome to sleep in the governess’s room, but I will put you on a train to Chicago in the morning.”

      “I beg you to reconsider your decision.” Marjorie wanted to put her hand on his arm and stop him from making plans to send her back—but she refrained. “I’ll show you I’m the right person for this job.”

      “I doubt you could convince me to change my mind.”

      Marjorie clutched her hat in her hands. “Give me until the end of the year—and if you’re unhappy with my work, I’ll leave.” In those two months, she might raise enough money to go to California.

      “The end of the year?”

      She nodded and offered him an innocent look. “What harm could I do in two months?”

      He lifted an eyebrow, his face filling with skepticism. He stepped out of his office and Marjorie followed him into the front hall.

      The home was stunning, inside and out. Three stories tall, with deep gables and large windows, it stood like a stately queen on the tree-lined street. Redbrick covered most of the house, with white bric-a-brac and trim gracing the windows and eaves. Inside the dark wooden trim and wainscoting gave it a warm feeling, while oak flooring and expensive—yet practical—furnishings reflected the status of the owner. It wasn’t quite as elaborate as Marjorie’s childhood home—but it was comfortable.

      “Mrs. Gohl, the cook, and Miss Ernst, the maid, live in the servant’s quarters at the back of the second floor,” Dr. Orton said as he passed through the front hall and up the stairs. “Charlie is the only child home at the moment. The other three are across the street at my mother-in-law’s home...”

      Marjorie followed close behind, her gaze feasting on a beautiful stained-glass window above the landing of the curved stairs. Rays of brilliant colors depicted a glorious sunset. She had tried her hand at working with stained glass, but the unfinished project was tucked away in her room in Chicago along with dozens of other half-completed ventures.

      Dr. Orton stopped at the top of the stairs and Marjorie bumped into his back.

      He turned, barely concealing his frustration. He pointed down a long, carpeted hallway. “The night nursery is at the end of this hall, to the right. You’ll find your room attached to it.”

      She didn’t want to beg, but she needed reassurance that she would be given a chance. “I hope you’ll consider my offer. Please give me two months to prove I’m the person for this job.”

      He studied her with an analytical gaze just as the downstairs door opened and voices drifted up the stairwell.

      “Papa, we’re home!” A little girl’s voice filled the hall.

      “John? John, where are you?” An older female voice pierced the air. “Peter wet his pants once again. I’ve told you to put your foot down with him, John. The child needs more discipline.”

      Dr. Orton closed his eyes and let out a long sigh.

      Marjorie raised an eyebrow and whispered, “Your mother-in-law?”

      He opened his eyes and she could see exhaustion behind his weary gaze. “You might as well meet her and get it over with.”

      “Get it over with?”

      “John!” the lady yelled up the stairwell, her head peeking around the banister. Her gaze narrowed when she spotted Marjorie. “Who are you?”

      Marjorie pasted on her biggest smile. “I’m the new governess.”

      The lady’s blue eyes grew enormous in her wrinkled face. “The what?”

      Dr. Orton gave Marjorie a warning glance as he stepped past her on the stairwell.

      Marjorie tried to hide a giggle as she followed him down the stairs and faced the lady standing in the foyer. She wore a black mourning gown, with a black hat pinned tight against her gray hair. She held a baby in her arms, while a little boy peeked around her skirts. A girl of eight or nine stared at Marjorie with open curiosity, a spark of animation glistening from her eyes.

      “This is Miss Marjorie Maren,” Dr. Orton said. “She is my mother’s neighbor from Chicago.”

      “Was her neighbor,” Marjorie couldn’t help adding as she nodded a greeting at the older woman.

      John gave her another warning look and Marjorie snapped her mouth shut. If she was going to keep this job, she must be vigilant about guarding her tongue.

      “Governess?” the woman asked. “You don’t need a governess, John—you have Dora and me.”

      John took the baby, a smile lifting his lips when he looked at his child—but it disappeared when he glanced back at Marjorie. “Miss Maren, this is Mrs. Scott, my mother-in-law.”

      Marjorie extended her hand, but Mrs. Scott only stared at her. “Maren? Why does that name sound familiar?” She openly examined Marjorie with a critical eye. “I don’t like it, John. These things should stay in the family.”

      Marjorie lowered her hand.

      The little boy raced away from his grandmother’s skirts and clung to Dr. Orton’s leg, eyeing Marjorie with big blue eyes.

      “I can’t impose on you forever,” Dr. Orton said. “You and Dora have been helpful—but it’s best if I hire a governess to take care of the child—”

      “If you would do as I say and marry Dora, you wouldn’t be an imposition. It would become her duty.”

      “Please,” Dr. Orton said, pointedly looking at the children. “I don’t want to discuss this right now.” He looked at Marjorie, relief suddenly lighting his face. “And since I have a governess, this conversation is pointless.”

      Mrs. Scott crossed her arms over her ample bosom. “You trust this lady? We don’t know anything about her.”

      Dr. Orton looked as if he was trying to control his irritation. “Thank you for your concern, but Miss Maren is from a good family and is highly recommended by my mother.”

      Mrs. Scott raised her eyebrows in disdain. “Your mother?”

      John moved to the front door and opened it. “Thank you for all your help. Please extend my appreciation to Dora, as well.”

      Mrs. Scott ran her gaze over Marjorie one more time, her displeasure evident, before looking back at John. “I’m right across the street if you need me.”

      He СКАЧАТЬ