Read Partridge and the Peartree for Free Online Page B

come for tonight's session, and they had both kept
busy trying to get the new children caught up with the more
advanced.
    Drawn by the eagerness of the students, as well as
the dedication of their teacher, Phillip had attended nearly every
session since his meeting with the two Berties, and he had
faithfully supplied materials for each lesson. He'd even produced
an easel to make it easier for her to instruct the entire group.
And each time, his cook had sent tasty sandwiches for the children
and the increasing number of parents who came to observe. The food
was as much of an attraction as the lessons, but knowing he was
feeding their stomachs as well as their minds gave Phillip a sense
of purpose he'd never known.
    He sensed she had spoken, so he turned to get a clear
view of her mouth. "Pardon me?" he asked.
    "The children should have a Christmas party," she
declared. "I imagine their holiday isn't nearly as merry as ours.
Most of their parents can't afford gifts. We could give them a nice
meal and some small gifts — as a reward for doing so well on their
lessons."
    "Excellent idea," Phillip agreed. "I have several
books I could contribute as gifts. When should this celebration
take place?"
    "It would be nice to have it on Christmas Eve, but
I'll have to plan it for the day before. My brother insists on my
attendance at the Kringles' Ball at Holly Hall. He says that since
Colette has left him, we must attend several major functions to
reassure the ton he is not distraught over her
departure."
    "I think it would be safe to assume no one would
think of him that way. But I sympathize for him. I didn't realize
Mademoiselle Colette had left."
    "Yes, Edward mentioned something to her about
financial losses. Apparently he made some investments that didn't
prove to be profitable. The losses weren't that great, but it was
enough to send her packing."
    "Ah. Well, I'm sure you will be an excellent
substitute for your brother. But I hope you will save a dance for
me."
     
    ****
     
    Amelia and her lady's maid Jeanne entered the foyer
of Bartlett Manor, gazing about them at the somewhat shabby
splendor. Here and there, she could see places where it was evident
that renovations were underway. Amelia's artistic mind whirled as
she imagined homey touches she would have added. Over here is a
nice spot for a comfortable seating arrangement. This room needs
new draperies and perhaps a more calming color on the
walls.
    Utley, the butler who had let them in, took their
cloaks and bowed. "I shall inform His Grace you have arrived.
Please wait here," he instructed, gesturing toward a pair of
comfortable chairs.
    She was about to sit when she heard a rustling of
skirts. Absently, she looked up and then blinked when she
recognized the maid. "Mrs. Crabtree. How nice to see you."
    The woman turned at Amelia's greeting, and her face
lit in a wide smile. She rushed forward and held out her arms to
Amelia, but stopped short and dropped into a curtsey instead.
    "Oh, Miss Par — I mean, Lady Amelia, I can't thank
you enough for bringing the good duke into our lives. 'E told me
you was a real lady, not just a miss — oh, I knew it was so, they
way you was always so proper, like. Anyway, 'e got me this job
doing the laundry 'ere, and when I had trouble travelin' from
Cheapside, 'e moved our whole family 'ere to this house! Little
Bertie is gettin' his lessons from the valet, Mr. Townley, and the
duke's own physician is seein' to my Arnold. I fear 'e'll never be
able to walk again, but 'is sight is gettin' better, and 'is
spirits are risin' each day. Oh, My Lady, the duke is a true
godsend!"
    Amelia offered her congratulations, and Mrs. Crabtree
left to attend to her duties. Left again with her thoughts and the
silent Jeanne, she paced. Today was the day she would tell Phillip
about her other life — that of a writer. What would his reaction
be? Would he be disgusted? Worse yet, would he demand she stop
writing before their association continued? Or would