A Most Unusual Governess (18 page)

'And what do her parents have to say about it?' asked James.

'We haven't told them yet,' Lord Tavistock admitted. 'But I'm a rich man, and a titled one. If they knew you wouldn't cut up rough about it, Margaret thinks they'd be happy to agree.'

James clapped Lord Tavistock on the back. 'I'm sincerely delighted for you,' he said. 'You're right. I am too old for Margaret. I wish you joy, Tavistock. You and Margaret both.'

'Really?' Lord Tavistock let out a sigh of relief. 'And here was I thinking you'd cut up rough! I must go and tell Margaret. Thank you, Randall.'

And with that he made a bow and left the room.

If only all my problems could be solved so easily, thought James as he watched him go.

And wondering, agonisingly, how long it would be before he saw Sarah again.

* * * *

Sarah was at that minute sitting in her uncle's carriage, heading towards Bath.

She had at first been torn on receiving her brother's message. She was sorry to be leaving the children, but her common sense reminded her that the boys still had their tutors and that Lucy still had her nurse, so that they would be well looked after in her absence. And she would write to them as soon as she could, to explain.

And James. What of James? Her feelings for him were too painful to dwell on. It was fortunate, she told herself, that she had been called away from the Grange. By the time she returned James would have left and she would therefore not have to see him. It was a lucky solution, she told herself.

She turned her thoughts away from James and back to her brother's urgent message. Once she had received it she had stayed only long enough to pack a valise and let Hodgess know what had

happened, and had then set out with Mr Dodd. As yet she did not know the nature of her uncle s accident, but knew she would learn more as soon as she arrived.

At last the carriage rumbled to a halt. The step was let down, Sarah stepped out and stood before the magnificent house in Laura Place, home to her aunt and uncle; and, since her father's death, home to her brothers as well.

'Sarah!'

Almost as soon as she entered the hall Nicholas was there, embracing her and asking after her journey.

The house was just as she remembered it, being richly and expensively furnished: marble-topped console tables, gilded mirrors and antique vases brought back by her uncle form his Grand Tour vied with family portraits, elegant water colours and a number of shield-backed chairs.

And Nicholas. Nicholas was still Nicholas, her good-tempered, handsome brother; although he looked older and more capable than the last time she had seen him over a year before.

But she had no time for further observation: she was too anxious to discover what had happened. 'How is my uncle?' she asked him as he helped her off with her pelisse. Is he badly hurt?'

He turned to Mr Dodd. Thank you, Dodd,' he said. That will be all. I think you'd better prepare yourself,' he said to Sarah as he led her into the drawing-room. I'm afraid uncle Hugh has had a fall. He's been drinking heavily for years now, and it was only a matter of time before something like this happened. Still, it was a terrible shock.'

'You mean... ?'

Nicholas nodded. Unfortunately the accident was fatal. Uncle High broke his neck.'

Sarah heaved a sigh. Her uncle had never been kind to her, but he should have had another ten years of life left to him and she was sony he was dead.

'How has my aunt taken it? Is she very distressed?'

'On the surface, yes, she loves to be the centre of attention. But underneath, no. There was no love lost between them; they had hardly spoken a civilised word in years.'

Sarah nodded. Although her aunt and uncle had always been far wealthier than her parents, they had not been nearly as happy.

'She has spent the day with her dressmakers, went on Nicholas, ordering a whole new wardrobe of mourning clothes. And quite the most stylish - and expensive - mourning clothes they will be.' He gave a grimace.
‘B
ut never mind Aunt Claire. It's you I want to talk about, Sarah. Now that my uncle is dead, I am the new Lord Craven, and my first act as Lord Craven is to ask you to come and live here.' His face crinkled into a smile. I've spent the last year racking my brains, trying to think of a way of providing for you. I couldn't bear the thought of your having to work for your living. Especially as a governess. But now your days of hardship are over.'

'No, Nick, I can't do that. I can't just abandon the children. Besides, my aunt will object.'

'It won't do any good if she does,' said Nicholas. It's no longer her decision. And as for leaving the children - I know you're attached to them, Sarah, but when you've had time to think about it you'll realise is isn't suitable for you to carry on being a governess. Don't worry, Lord Randall will find someone else to look after them. But now I want to talk about you. The one thought that has kept me going through this awful day is the thought that at last you will be provided for as you should be. Well have to live quietly at first, of course, whilst we're in mourning, but after that I mean to make sure you have fun. I mean to take you to concerts and the theatre and escort you to any number of balls.'

The last thing I'm thinking about right now is dancing,' sighed Sarah. Her mind was in a whirl. So much had happened in the last twenty-four hours that she was still trying to make sense of it all.

Nicholas nodded. You must be tired after your journey.
I’ve
had a room prepared for you. Rest for as long as you like. Ill make sure no one disturbs you.'

Sarah kissed him lightly on the cheek. 'Listen to you, taking charge,' she said affectionately. You've grown up a lot since the last time I saw you, Nicholas.'

He nodded. 'But it's thanks to the good upbringing you gave Geoffrey and I after mother died.'

She smiled. Tlatterer!' she said.

'Make the most of it,' he joked. The flattery lasts for one night only. Tomorrow 111 be back to putting spiders in your bed!'

* * * *

Although the days until the funeral were full ones for Sarah she found that, disturbingly, her thoughts were never far away from James. Why she persisted in thinking of him she did not know: his expression had made it quite clear what his feelings were and she told herself repeatedly that he was not worth the pain she felt. Perhaps things would be easier when she had made good on her promise and had written to him, she thought. After all, it was difficult to forget about him when she knew she still had the letter to write. Perhaps, once that painful task was done she would be better able to put him out of her mind.

But it was not an easy letter to write. How should she word it? What should she say?

She gathered her thoughts. She needed to let him know that her uncle had died and that her brother had succeeded to the title; needed to tell him, too, that her place now was with her family and that, however much she would miss the children, she could not return to the Grange. Nicholas was right, she could not go on being a governess, and although she knew the children would miss her to begin with, she also knew that in time they would adjust to someone else. Besides, she would still write to them, and they to her.

But where to start?

She pulled a sheet of paper towards her and began. My lord.

She put down her quill: she was finding it difficult to write to him in such cold terms after all they had shared. But it must be done. What they had shared had meant nothing to him. She was lucky, then, that fate had given her a way out of an impossible situation.

But if that was really the case, then why did she still feel pain?

She shook her head. This was not getting her letter to Lord Randall written. She picked up her quill again. Bit by bit she began to write, composing the letter slowly and with difficulty, but at last it was finished. She was just adding the direction when Nicholas entered the room.

Writing to someone, sis?' he asked.

To Lord Randall,' she told him briefly as she shook sand over the letter to dry the ink.

Nicholas gave a broad grin and whisked the sheet of paper from the escritoire. 'No need to do that, Sarah. I wrote to Randall this morning and told him you wouldn't be coming back.'

'Nick!' Sarah was horrified. *You had no business doing anything of the kind.'

'Why not? Nicholas was mystified. You re finished with governessing, Sarah. And a good thing too. When I think of what you had to put up with at the hands of that proud, arrogant monster... ' he said, remembering Sarah's early, unflattering letters form the Grange.

'He was never a monster,' Sarah returned.

'Of course he was, or you wouldn't have taken against him. You've never been quick to judge people, Sarah, but you said -'

1 know what I said,' she flushed, *but -'

' - that he was the most proud and disagreeable man you had ever met in your life,' Nicholas continued, not to be put off. Those were your very words.'

To begin with, perhaps,' said Sarah, wondering confusedly why she was defending him, 'but when I got to know him he wasn't like that at all. He is a proud man, but he isn't disagreeable.'

'Still, that part of your life is over now,' said Nicholas with a shrug. You're back with your family. Where you belong.'

Sarah sighed. It was no use her trying to explain to Nicholas that her feelings for James had undergone a complete transformation since her early letters from the Grange. In fact, she realised, there was no point. James did not love her, for if he had loved her he would not have been horrified that he had kissed her, and no matter how much it hurt her she had to acknowledge that what Nick said was true. That part of her life was over; and over for good.

Even so, she was determined to send her letter. She had promised to send one and send one she would. She waited only for Nicholas to leave the room before finishing writing the direction and seeing it went in the post. And then she sat down to write to the children. She did not want them to feel she had abandoned them, and wrote them a long and lively letter, reassuring them of her affection for them whilst explaining in simple terms that, as her uncle had died, she would not be able to return to the Grange.

* * * *

The stable doors are rotten and need replacing.' James's voice was curt. 'I want them seeing to at once.'

Yes, my lord. Right away, my lord,' said the estate carpenter.

'And when you're finished, the floorboards in the tack room need attention. They have cracked with the heat. See what you can do with them.'

Yes, my lord. Very good, my lord,' said Higgins again.

And what's eating him? he thought, as he backed his way out of Lord Randall's study.

Although always high-handed, Lord Randall had become even worse since the house party - and just when Higgins, and all the rest of the servants, had been looking forward to a rest. Lord Randall had informed them that he would be leaving the Grange once the party was over, and they had thought they would have a chance to catch their breath. But he had changed his mind at the last minute and was still at the Grange.

Higgins could not know, none of the servants could, that James's temper was so short because he had not heard from Sarah since she had left the Grange in such a hurry, and that he had changed his plans to leave the Grange because he wanted to be there when the promised letter from Sarah arrived.

To begin with he had been patient, but as the days had passed and no letter had arrived his patience had worn extremely thin. Nothing had been able to hold his attention. Not even the news that Forbes was indeed the radical ringleader. At one time such important news would have meant so much to him, especially as he had spent months tracking down the leader of the radical group. But the news that Forbes had been arrested before he could do any real harm, and was now languishing in prison, meant nothing to him. The only thing that mattered to him was Sarah's absence. That one fact dominated his life.

The door opened and Hodgess entered the room. The mail has arrived, my lord. You asked to be informed.'

Yes. Very good, Hodgess. Send it in.'

A minute later the mail appeared on a silver salver. James glanced briefly at the top three letters and then studied the fourth. He did not recognise the hand but curiously, he broke the seal and discovered that the letter was from her brother. It was curt almost to the point of rudeness, but James did not care about that. All he cared about was knowing that Sarah was safe and happy, and that she would soon be returning to the Grange. But as he read the letter his brow darkened.

Never coming back? He read the words in disbelief. It couldn t be true. Sarah, never coming back to the Grange?

He dropped his hand to his side, still holding the letter, and looked sightlessly out of the window. She must come back. She had to come back. He needed her, wanted her... loved her.

He let out an explosive sigh. Yes, he loved her. How could he have been so blind? How could he have denied his feelings simply because she was a governess? What did it matter? She may not be his equal in rank, but she was his equal in everything that mattered, in heart, spirit and mind. And he must tell her so. Tell her his feelings, offer her his heart and his hand.