Bertie found herself listening hard to him, disappointment trickling through her when the front door opened and closed, his voice receding as he got into his coach. Cat and Andrew left the table and headed for the window to watch him go. Hooves clip-clopped as the carriage went away, taking him off to another day at his chambers.
Andrew waved frantically, as though his dad could see him up there. Caitriona merely looked after the carriage, her doll firmly in the crook of her arm.
The maid returned for the tray, still polite, even with the master gone. No sitting down for a chat, no impertinence to Bertie because she wasn’t a real governess. She simply collected the breakfast things, said a thank you to Andrew when he fetched a spoon that had fallen to the floor for her, and walked out again.
“Well then,” Bertie said, rubbing her hands. “What do ya want to do now?”
“Play soldiers in the park!” Andrew shouted.
“We’re supposed to have lessons,” Caitriona said, but wistfully, as though playing soldiers was more appealing to her too.
“Tell ya what.” Bertie sat down at the cleared table, which was next to a filled bookcase. “Let’s have a story out of one of these books, then we’ll go out to the park. I’m supposed to be your governess, and your dad would be angry at me if I didn’t have you learn something, right?”
The book Bertie chose was big, heavy, and full of illustrations and tiny, cramped text. Bertie could read just fine, though she had to strain her eyes to do it with this book. The chapter Andrew wanted to hear was about a battle long, long ago in East Anglia, with a woman called Boadicea leading an army against Roman soldiers. Bertie read with interest—it was the first she’d ever heard of it.
“It’s a bit like a play, innit?” Bertie asked when they’d read the dramatic end of Boadicea. “With villains and heroes and swordfights—like in a Christmas panto.”
“A Christmas what?” Andrew asked, wrinkling his nose.
“Panto—a pantomime.” Bertie stared at their blank faces in amazement. “Haven’t you ever seen a panto? It’s a play, with fighting and mean old villains, a girl in breeches and a man dressed up as a lady, and lots of amazing tricks . . .” She trailed off as both children blinked at her, clearly having no clue what she meant.
Bertie closed the book. “I’m going to have to teach you a lot, looks like. But you’ll be teaching me in return, I wager.”
Caitriona frowned. “Teach you what?”
“How to be a proper governess. I don’t know how to be one, do I?” Bertie winked at them. “I have to rely on you completely.”
Andrew grinned. “A governess gives us heaps and heaps of cake and lets us play in the park all day.”
“I said a proper governess, Andrew, not a proper fool.” Bertie softened the words by ruffling his hair. “Now, then, can I trust you two to behave yourselves while I run off home a minute? I’ll be wanting my things.”
More puzzlement from both of them. “You can send for your things,” Cat said. “Like Miss Evans will send here for hers.”
“Send to who? I’ve only got a few friends I’d trust not to help themselves to what I have, and besides, I don’t want to put them out. I didn’t get home last night, and my dear old dad will be frantic about me and wanting his breakfast.”
“But it’s ten o’clock,” Cat said. “Our father leaves for work every day at eight.”
Bertie grinned. “That’s because your dad is a respectable barrister at a respectable office. My dad works for a builder, and sometimes there’s work, and sometimes not. Either way, he stays out all night with his friends and staggers in when he pleases. By now, he’ll be in a right state.”
The two children listened in fascination. “Take us with you,” Andrew said, his voice rising.
Bertie felt a qualm. Cat and Andrew, all brushed and combed, were like dainty cakes in a sweetshop window. Cat wore a light blue dress whose little bustle was topped with a big bow that matched the blue bow in her hair. Andrew wore knickers, a pristine white shirt, a jacket, and a little cravat. He’d already managed to rumple everything, being Andrew, but no one could mistake him for anything but a rich and pampered little boy. The street toughs where Bertie lived would eat them both alive.
“No, you stay here and read or something,” Bertie said quickly. “I won’t be long. I’ll go while you’re having your lunch.”
“We don’t have luncheon,” Cat said. “We have dinner at one o’clock.”
Bertie winked at her. “Well you enjoy your fancy dinner then, and I’ll nip home.”
Andrew’s voice went up in volume. “You shouldn’t leave us alone.”
Bertie looked at him in surprise. “You’re not alone. Goodness, you’ve got oceans of people living under this roof, haven’t you? There’s Macaulay and Mrs. Hill, Charlotte the downstairs maid, the lad Peter, a cook and the other maid who comes up here for you . . . what’s her name?”
“Aoife,” Andrew said. “She’s Irish. Mrs. Hill says we have to call her Jane, because Aoife is outlandish, but that’s her name, so it’s what I say.”
From the good-humored twinkle she’d seen in Aoife’s eye, Bertie thought she must appreciate Andrew’s candor.
“And there’s Richards, the coachman,” Cat said. “We don’t see him much, because he stays in the mews, with the groom and the gardener.”
“See?” Bertie said. “All sorts of people. You don’t really need me all the time, do you?”
“Yes, we do!” Andrew declared at the top of his voice.
“The others say we’re unruly and a handful,” Cat said without inflection. “That we’re holy terrors, and no one can do anything with us.”
“I’m a holy terror!” Andrew shouted. “That’s what Richards said when I let out the horses to run free. But it was Cat that opened the door.”
Cat took the time to press a kiss to her doll’s head, but Bertie saw the flush on her cheek.
Bertie rested her elbows on the table. “Did Richards take the back of his hand to ya?”
Andrew stopped shouting and stared, round-eyed. Cat lifted her head. “No,” she said, sounding surprised Bertie would ask.
“Dad would have torn his head off,” Andrew said. “The governess we had that week sent us to bed without supper, and Dad sacked her.”