Hester's Hope

a big gamble bringing them to dinner, but it was time they were seen for who they could be, not for whatever they had done. If you never set expectations for children, how were they ever to live up to them?
“Miss Johnson,” Mr. Payton stepped away from the wall near the head of the stair smiling softly, giving Hester a start. “If you have the time, I’d like to talk to you and your uncle.”
Hester felt like she could fall over where she stood, but she nodded. Today had been one of the most physically and emotionally exhausting days of her life. She had been up since before dawn, and her whole world seemed to have been turned on its head.
“Of course,” she replied softly, looking down at the fancy dress she still wore as she fell into step with the man. He had removed his dinner jacket and now stood in shirtsleeves and vest, looking handsome and far more comfortable than she felt.
“I’ve asked your uncle to join us in the parlor,” Mr. Payton continued walking briskly down the stairs. “If you’ll join us, I have some business to discuss with you.”
Hester followed the man down the stairs and into the now tidy parlor, where her uncle sprang to his feet from a comfortable chair. “Are you ready?” Hyke asked looking keenly at his niece.
“Please have a seat Mr. Johnson, Miss Johnson.” Mr. Payton lifted a hand indicating another chair and moving to the sofa as Hyke resumed his place. “Tea?” he indicated the pot and cups on the table smiling when Hester nodded enthusiastically.
Mr. Payton looked at the teapot then back to Miss Johnson, before reaching for it and splashing some of the bright contents into a cup.
Hester grinned at Mr. Payton’s awkward attempt to pour tea. “Allow me,” she offered, looking to her uncle who passed his cup. Once they had all been served, Hester leaned against the high back of the winged chair and sipped her tea with a sense of relief. The day was over.
Cecil held the delicate cup in his hand studying the young woman across from him. She looked tired but hadn’t complained even once. Placing the cup of tea on the table, he pushed to his feet and paced the room, coming to rest by the fireplace and leaning against the mantel. “I’d like you to continue working for me,” Cecil blurted. He was completely out of his depth in this matter, and he knew it but pressed on.
Cecil Payton would have been more comfortable sitting around a campfire eating bacon and beans with a group of rowdy cowboys, or pushing a plow behind a mule than standing here in this fancy parlor trying to sort out staffing, for a house he didn’t even like. Cecil’s life had been about travel, experience, and action. Sitting in a fancy house trying to understand the intricacies of business, manage a house full of servants, or even making his niece and nephew behave like tiny humans instead of hyenas, was above his grasp.
Slowly running a hand over his weary features, Cecil turned back to look at Mr. Johnson and his niece. “I am not ashamed to admit that I’m ill equipped to deal with my current situation. I have no understanding of children or any of this,” he waved his hand absently at the room. “I need help.”
Hester placed her empty cup on the table and eyed the teapot with longing before she spoke. “If you don’t feel fit to be here, why are you?” she asked.
“I have no choice,” the man looked down to where she sat, his hazel eyes tired. “I’m my brother’s heir and that entails all of this.” Cecil looked around him as if he were looking at a strange piece of abstract art.
“But why do you have to stay?” Hester persisted. “Couldn’t you take the children and go somewhere else?”
Cecil ran his hands through his hair. He would love nothing more than to saddle a good horse and race as far from the city as it could carry him, but he had responsibilities now. He had stockholders, businessmen, employees, and others depending on him.
Slowly shaking his head, Cecil pushed the dream away. The visions of wide-open spaces and vast expanses of land tantalizing and just out of reach.
“I can’t,” he answered simply. “What I need is people who can help me adjust to this life. Will you please help?” The man’s bright eyes were imploring and struck deep in Hester’s heart. “You’re the first person the children seem to respect. You don’t seem to be terrified or horrified by them. They’re only children, and they have lost everything they ever knew.” He paused, shifting restlessly from his place at the mantel and pacing to the sofa, then back again. “I need someone who has the fortitude to see to Beverly and Jonas, while I muddle through the rest.”
“You’re asking me to continue as their caregiver?” Hester glanced at her uncle who sat swirling the cold tea in his cup.
“Yes, when can you move in?”
Hester blinked for several seconds as his words sank in. “Move in?”
“Yes, you’ll need to be here with the children all the time. I’m often out and Mrs. August lets them do anything they want. You’ll have your own room, board, and wages.”
Hester looked at her uncle who suddenly seemed old and tired. “I can’t leave my uncle,” she protested.
“He can come too,” Cecil moved to stand before the young woman with the lovely face and kind eyes. He knew his voice sounded desperate, but he couldn’t hold back. In the three months since he had moved into his brother’s home, they had been through nine nurses and the staff had been whittled down to the few loyal diehards like Mrs. August, Cook, and two young doormen who were over paid, by any standard.
“Me? What could I do?” Hyke said. “I’ll admit it will be a hardship if Hester comes to live here, but I’ll muddle through.”
“Uncle!”