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Authors: Cathy Marie Hake

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Whirlwind

BOOK: Whirlwind
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WHIRLWIND

CATHY MARIE HAKE

WHIRLWIND

Whirlwind
Copyright © 2008
Cathy Marie Hake

Cover design by Jennifer Parker
Cover model photography by Mike Habermann
Olympic Ship photo: Library of Congress, Prints & Photographs Division,
LC-DIG-ggbain-09363

Scripture quotations are from the King James Version.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise—without the prior written permission of the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.

Published by Bethany House Publishers
11400 Hampshire Avenue South
Bloomington, Minnesota 55438

Bethany House Publishers is a division of
Baker Publishing Group, Grand Rapids, Michigan.

Printed in the United States of America

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Hake, Cathy Marie.
     Whirlwind / Cathy Marie Hake.
           p. cm.
     ISBN 978-0-7642-0319-0 (pbk.)
     1. Nannies—Fiction. 2. Widowers—Fiction. 3. Child-rearing—Fiction.
I. Title.
     PS3608.A5454W47 2008
     813'.6—dc22
2008028001

Dedication

To my editor, Sarah Long, a million thanks, a vat of chocolate, and an industrial-sized bottle of aspirin are far less than you deserve for one day at your job . . . and then, you have to deal with me! What a delight you are to work with! In addition to your considerable professional ability, I know you also pray over my book. That means so much to me. You are an extraordinary editor and also an extraordinary woman of God. For all you have done for me and for all you do for countless others, surely there will be jewels in your crown in heaven.

Also, to Jennifer Parker, the incredibly talented woman who designs the covers of my books. From the very first one she designed for me, I’ve been enchanted. Each time the artwork captures the feel of the story, the location, and most of all, the essence of the heroine’s personality—and that takes pure genius. It’s said that a book is judged by its cover. Then I’m a very blessed author, indeed. Thank you, Jenny!

Books by
Cathy Marie Hake
FROM BETHANY HOUSE PUBLISHERS

Letter Perfect
Bittersweet
Fancy Pants
Forevermore
Whirlwind
That Certain Spark

CATHY MARIE HAKE
is a nurse who specializes in teaching Lamaze, breastfeeding, and baby care. She loves reading, scrapbooking, and writing, and is the author or coauthor of more than twenty books. Cathy makes her home in Anaheim, California, with her husband, daughter, and son.

WHIRLWIND

Contents

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Eleven

Twelve

Thirteen

Fourteen

Fifteen

Sixteen

Seventeen

Eighteen

Nineteen

Twenty

Twenty-One

Twenty-Two

Twenty-Three

Twenty-Four

Epilogue

Acknowledgments

One

London, Spring 1892

I’
ve come to a decision.”

Millicent Fairweather clasped her hands together at her waist and waited in silence for her boss to continue. The clock in the far corner of the dim study ticked loudly.

“My daughters are of an age to expand their horizons. A change is in order. Therefore, I’ve located a place for them.”

“A place?” Millicent couldn’t help echoing his word. A frisson of fear shivered up her spine. At eight and six years old, Audrey and Fiona were still little girls. Surely he couldn’t mean—

“A young ladies’ academy.” He paced the length of the oak bookshelves. Chinese silk carpet muffled each step, and an opulent gem-encrusted globe glinted as a reminder of all the riches Mr. Eberhardt amassed on the travels that made him a stranger in his own home. He nodded to himself. “Education, deportment—my daughters shall have the finest of everything.”

The air froze in her chest. “Mr. Eberhardt, your daughters are both of tender ages yet. Perhaps if you spend a little time with them . . .”

“No!” He wheeled around. “The decision is made. I’ve directed Mrs. Witherspoon to pack their things. A coach will be here by five.”

Five? Millicent glanced at the clock—a quarter past noon. Struggling to control her emotions, she rasped, “We’ll be ready.”

He made a dismissive gesture. “I’ve arranged for someone to accompany them. Your services are no longer needed. I’ve written a letter of recommendation for you. Alastair will see to it that you receive two months’ salary to tide you through until you find another position.”

Millicent drew in a deep breath. A governess served at the whim of an employer. She had no recourse; but how could he do this to his daughters? “Fiona and Audrey will want to see you. Luncheon—”

“I have things to accomplish.” He pulled a book from the shelf and studied the frontispiece.

“Perhaps tea?”

He snapped the book shut and shoved it back in place. “No. Do whatever you like with the girls until five. That is all.”

Shaking, Millicent left the study.

Mrs. Witherspoon, ruddy cheeks streaked with tears, met her at the head of the stairs amidst a collection of trunks. “The girls shouldn’t see me like this.”

Millicent pulled the housekeeper into her own bedchamber. “This is going to be so dreadfully hard on them.”

Mrs. Witherspoon buried her face in a sodden hanky. “We’re the only family those children know. They don’t remember their mama at all, and I can count on one hand how many days he’s spent here each year for the past five.”

Tempting as it was to gossip, Millicent quelled the urge. She picked up the picture she kept at her bedside. It had been taken the day before her parents died, and every time she looked at it, memories of an unforgettably fun day washed over her. Resolve straightened her spine. Mr. Eberhardt might separate them, but she could give Fiona and Audrey one very special last day.

“Mrs. Witherspoon, after lunch, I’ll take the girls outside so you can be alone to pack. Please ask Cook to give us ten more minutes before bringing up luncheon.” Once the housekeeper nodded, she put down the picture. “Also, please ask Alastair if Billy can go to town. I’d like Mr. Braston to come take photographs. I want him to bring whatever’s necessary so he can leave the pictures here with us.”

“Oh! That’s a lovely idea.”

Before opening the door to the nursery, Millicent took a fortifying breath.
Lord, it’ll be so hard to let go of them. All these years, I’ve somehow thought of them as my own. Please guard and protect them and let them find love.

She barely started to open the door when the maid hopped up, along with the two girls. “What happened?” the maid asked.

Millicent straightened her shoulders and smiled. The muscles in her face felt strangely stiff, but she refused to dwell on that. She didn’t want to say anything about Mr. Eberhardt, either. He didn’t want to see his daughters, so Millicent wouldn’t let them know of his presence. Children deserved to be cherished, not rejected. “Thank you for keeping the girls company. It’s almost time for luncheon, so I’d best see to washing up with them.”

Wearing a pout, Jenny dawdled out of the room. Since the day she’d arrived a few months ago, she’d shown a penchant for gossip. Millicent refused to fan the flames of her habit.

Once the door clicked shut, Millicent knew she needed to use every single moment to prepare “her” girls. Sinking onto a small chair, she announced, “I have something surprising to tell you girls.”

Fiona galloped over. “You do?”

Audrey followed at a slightly more sedate pace. “Jenny said there was a rabbit in the vegetable garden. Is that what you’re going to tell us?”

Millicent wound her arm about Audrey’s waist and pulled her close. “No, but that was a good guess.”

“Are we guessing?” Fiona perked up. “Is it a pony? I want a pony. A white one.”

“No, poppet.”

While Fiona sighed in dismay, Audrey guessed, “Are we going to town? For ice cream?”

“You’re going even farther than that. You, my dearlings, are going on a trip. A nice friend of your father is going to take you, and you’ll be leaving this evening!”

“Today?! Where?”

“You are such fine little girls, your father decided you should be allowed to go to a special school where they teach girls to be elegant young ladies.”

Audrey frowned. “But you’re teaching us that.”

“I’ve started. You’ll have teachers at the academy, but there’s something more. At school, you’ll have several other girls as your friends. You’ll be with them every day.”

“You’ll have friends, too!” Fiona gave Millicent a toothless grin.

“I suppose,” Millicent said, trying to make her voice sound light when her heart weighed a ton, “I will have an opportunity to make new friends, too. But . . .”

Audrey’s little hand suddenly clutched Millicent’s sleeve.“You’re coming with us, aren’t you? You have to. I want you to.”

“Yes, we do!” Fiona chimed in.

Sounding as stricken as her little face looked, Audrey kept babbling, “We’ll have lots of fun together. We always do. And you can teach our friends how to be fine ladies, can’t she, Fiona?”

Fiona’s head bobbed.

Drawing the girls snuggly against her, Millicent closed her eyes.
This is so hard, Lord. How am I to answer them when I don’t know what to say?

Audrey nestled against her, the lace of her collar crinkled and snagged. “Miss Fairweather, don’t send me away. I’ll be good. I will. I’ll be better. I won’t put my elbows on the table anymore. I won’t—”

Millicent’s eyes flew open. “You’ve not done anything wrong, sweetheart. This isn’t a punishment; it’s a special gift.”

“A present?” Fiona brightened.

“Precisely!” Millicent rested her forehead against Audrey’s. “I’m proud of you. You’re a wonderful girl.” Audrey’s blue eyes swam with tears, and Millicent strove to keep from weeping. In an unsteady voice she promised, “You’ll always be close in my heart and thoughts and prayers.”

“You’re crying.” Audrey’s lip quivered.

“They’re happy tears.” Fiona wrapped her short arms as far around them as she could and squeezed. “Just like when we drew the card for her.”

Latching onto that lifeline, Millicent smiled. “Oh, how I adore that card! It’s such a treasure to me. Just think how happy you’ll make me when you write and tell me all about your school and new friends!”

Audrey burrowed her face into Millicent’s neck. “Will you write back to me?”

“And me?”

“Of course I will!” The immediacy and certainty in her response caused Fiona to wiggle with joy.

Audrey pulled away just a little. “But I make ugly blots.” “Occasionally, I do, too. Once you practice more, you’ll be making beautiful swirls and loops. Between now and then, I promise I’ll be so happy to get your letters that I won’t even notice if you have blots.”

Finally, Audrey managed a smile.

“Before you go, I thought it would be fun to set aside all the ways we usually do things and have an extraordinary afternoon. Wouldn’t you like that?”

“What will we do?” Fiona asked.

A fond memory popped into her mind. Millicent smiled. “To begin with, we’re going to have a different luncheon—a special one. Come to the table, and we’ll get ready.” By the time Cook arrived, both girls sat at the table—but in a rare breach of etiquette, they’d turned their chairs around backward and straddled them. Millicent didn’t try to brave that position, but she’d turned her chair sideways. The girls seemed satisfied with that. Eyes pleading with the cook to keep the atmosphere light, Millicent announced, “We’re having a backward lunch. If you please, we’d all like dessert first.”

The girls’ eyes bulged.

BOOK: Whirlwind
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