Read Online Of Moths and Butterflies by V. R. Christensen - Free Book Online Page A

live at the Abbey and yet he seemed always to be here.
    “What did you think, miss? That he was one of the family?”
    “I don’t know. Yes, perhaps.”
    Mr. Brown shook his head. “He is and he ain’t. His mother worked here once. A servant like yourself.”
    “And his father?”
    Mr. Brown didn’t answer this.
    “You said some don’t know their own fathers. Surely he does…if you do.”
    Mr. Brown looked up and toward the door for a moment. “I don’t know that he does. He wants to. I can tell you that. All boys want the love and respect of their fathers. They ache for it. ‘Tis hard to become a man without it.”
    *   *   *
    Sir Edmund, having made up his mind to examine for himself the progress being made in the west wing suite, arrived one afternoon to find Gina working high up on a ladder, sweeping the cobwebs and pulling down the tattered drapes. He remained there some time, alternating his attention between her and the work so far completed, before making his presence known. She started upon seeing him, having just come down from the ladder, her arms full of soiled draperies.
    “You’ve been working very hard,” he said.
    She stood before him, silent and straining under the weight of her burden. “Yes, sir.”
    “I confess I’m surprised. Mrs. Hartup would have me believe you are incapable of any useful enterprise.”
    Again, she said nothing. She simply stood there.
    He looked her over carefully, from head to foot, checking off in his mind the list of evidences Mrs. Hartup had given as proof that she had been bred and reared to be something much different from what she claimed to be, and comparing them to what he himself had observed.
    “You’ve received some education?” he said at last.
    “Very little, sir.”
    “But you’ve benefited by it.”
    “I don’t know that I have, sir.”
    “It wasn’t a question,” he said, his voice hardening. “You’ve received some finishing?”
    “No, sir.”
    “Picked it up during your time with Everard, eh?”
    “I need to get back to work, sir,” she answered, turning from him. “I’ve much to do, as you can see.”
    The doorway darkened again and Sir Edmund turned to find the housekeeper standing there. Many things could be said of Mrs. Hartup. That she was slack in her responsibilities over her charges was not one of them. Not since Betty Mason, at any rate.
    “You are right, Mrs. Hartup,” he said without looking at her. “I think she’s proved she’s not at all suited to the kind of work with which you’ve entrusted her.”
    Mrs. Hartup stood a little straighter, a self-satisfied smirk on her face.
    “In fact, you might consider yourself relieved of her.”
    Mrs. Hartup started, her mouth opened, but it was Gina who spoke first.
    “Sir, please. I will try harder. I can be of use to you.”
    “No. I’ve no doubt you can,” he said. “In fact I have my own ideas as to how you might occupy your time.” From within his coat pocket he removed a piece of folded paper. He watched her face, very carefully, as he unfolded it, and found to his pleasure, though not to his surprise, that she coloured observably upon seeing the rendering she had painstakingly drawn.
    “How did you come by that?” she asked him.
    “Mrs. Hartup discovered it. She thought I might find it interesting.” He paused for a moment as he watched her struggle to understand. “As you’ve likely been made aware, Wrencross Abbey must be prepared for a new mistress. I wish for you to direct the improvements.”
    “Sir,” Mrs. Hartup protested, “I hardly think she’s suitable for such a task as that.”
    “As you have rightly insisted, Mrs. Hartup, she’s not suited to helping you at all, and so I have relieved you of your charge over her.”
    “But sir. What am I to do about—”
    “That will be all, Mrs. Hartup,” he said, and with a wave of his hand, he dismissed her.
    “I will see that you have everything you need. You will make your plans, as you