A Most Unusual Governess (3 page)

'Everyone forgets you, Percy,' remarked Maud, getting up from the elegant settee and going over to James.

'I had business to attend to,' said James.

Business! exclaimed Maud. TouVe only been in the house a few hours. What business could you possibly have?'

'An estate the size of Watermead doesn't run itself,' he said with a smile.

'It always seems to,' remarked Percy, his hands thrust deep into his well-cut pockets. He half turned on the stool to face James, one foot resting on the fine Aubusson carpet whilst the other dangled above it. Whenever I'm here it's always the same: Hodgess appearing and disappearing like the genie of the lamp, making sure that everything is just as it ought to be. This house runs so perfectly it must be magic! And the grounds,' he continued, glancing out of the tall windows. The grounds here are always amazing. Even the trees seem to grow straighter at Watermead than anywhere else. The whole thing is perfect; there's never a blade of grass out of place.'

The grass wouldn't dare be out of place. Would it, James?' Maud asked archly, taking his arm and looking up into his face. 'Everything at Watermead must be perfect. But tell me,' she went on, seeing that he was not in the mood to be teased. 'How was your journey?'

'Hot and dusty,' he remarked as he sat down in an elegant Hepplewhite chair.

'Ours was exactly the same,' said Percy.

Terrible,' agreed Maud. It's a wonder I'm not a wreck.'

'You? A wreck?' asked Percy. *You always look magnificent. Doesn't she, Randall?'

James ran his eye over Maud de Bracy: the luxurious dark hair, the skilfully painted face, the scarlet satin gown - just a little too low cut - and the hard eyes. 'Magnificent? Yes.' He nodded slowly. *You could say that.'

Percy laughed. Which is as near to a compliment as you will ever get from James.'

'Compliments are for the weak-minded,' James remarked ironically.

Which puts you in a devil of a pickle, Maud,' said Percy. *You either have to admit you like compliments and resign yourself to being classed as weak-minded, or else pretend you don't like them and never hear another one again.'

1 didn't come here for the compliments,' shrugged Maud. Nevertheless she looked displeased. 'Besides, James's time for paying compliments to other women will soon be over. Or, at least, I think it will. Put me out of my misery, James, and tell me: have you offered for Margaret Leatherhead yet?'

He shook his head. 'Not yet.'

'So you mean to ask her at the house party,' said Maud.

'Yes.'

'Don't know what you see in the girl,' remarked Percy.

James shrugged. 'She comes from a good family and she's been gently bred. She's meek, respectful, quiet and biddable - everything a wife should be, in fact.'

If Percy thought that James was about to make the same mistake twice he did not have the courage to say so. Instead he said, 'Can't think what you're marrying for anyway. You've got two nephews. It's not as if you need an heir.'

'But I do need someone to protect me from every miss who fancies herself a countess, and every matchmaking mama who crosses my path.'

Percy smiled. 'Being hunted, James? One of the perils of being an earl.'

'But one that will disappear when I marry again.'

'And what about the children?' asked Percy. There's a lot more to being your wife than just having you as a husband. Does Margaret know what shell be taking on?'

The children will be cared for by their nurse, their tutors and their governess —'

'So you've found a replacement,' Percy interrupted. 'Let's hope this one's better than the last one. Poor Miss Dove quaked every time you so much as looked at her.'

'Miss Davenport doesn't quake,' said James. His thoughts went to the determined figure who had confronted him on the stairs and he felt something stirring inside him.

'She must be a most unusual governess, then,' said Percy.

'She is,' said James thoughtfully. He remembered the look of cool disdain in Miss Davenport's eyes as she had told him she was not a housemaid but a governess. And he remembered something else: the way that disdain had intrigued him and, surprisingly, attracted him.

'Miss Davenport,' he said, under his breath, Is a most unusual governess indeed.'

Sarah dressed with great care the following morning. She rejected her two old muslin dresses and chose instead her new sarsenet gown. She had bought the length of sea-green sarsenet in London, with money Lady Templeton had kindly given her as an advance on her first month's wages. It had lain at the bottom of her wardrobe for the first ten days, all but forgotten as Sarah had adjusted to her new life. But then she had taken it out and had occupied herself in the evenings by turning it into a simple gown.

She had always been skilled with a needle and had enjoyed sewing the new styles which, after a break of many years, had come from Paris once again. Now that Napoleon was safely imprisoned on Elba and King Louis was back on his throne, Paris was once again the centre of fashion. The skirt of her gown was slightly flared, clearing the ground instead of trailing on it. It was a practical feature that, in her present circumstances, she much appreciated. The neckline was round and, like the puffed sleeves, was decorated with a frill.

All in all, as she surveyed herself in the cheval glass, she was pleased with the result. The sea- green brought out the unusual shade of her green eyes and complemented her auburn hair, which she had arranged neatly in a bun.

She picked up a sample of Lucy's work, being pleased that she had made the little girl work on paper as well as on slates so that she had something to show Lord Randall. She also picked up a needlework sampler and a charming sketch of the rose garden. Then, with a final smooth of her hair, she left her room and went downstairs, just as the long case clock in the hall began to strike eight o'clock.

It was already hot. The early summer sunshine poured in through the mullioned windows and lit the heavy panelling. It brought the imposing hall and stairs to life.

On the sixth stroke Sarah reached the bottom of the stairs; on the seventh she reached the door of the study; and on the eighth she knocked on the door and heard Lord Randall's voice calling, 'Come in.'

'Ah! Miss Davenport,' he said, looking up briefly as she entered the room.

He was standing by his desk with a pile of papers in his hand. Further papers covered the desk.

'Please, sit down,' he said.

Thank you,' she said, ‘
but I prefer to stand.'

He looked surprised; then curious; then nodded, saying, 'As you wish.'

He was looking immaculate. There was nothing dishevelled about his clothes as there had been the day before, at the end of his long and tiring journey. Instead they were fresh and crisp. His cream breeches were stretched tightly across his powerful legs and disappeared into highly polished Hessians. He wore no coat, because of the heat, but his fine linen shirt which was stiff with starch. It was complemented by a cravat, expertly arranged in an intricate set of folds - a waterfall.

There was no hint of bronzed skin showing beneath the neck of his shirt as there had been the day before, when he had pulled his cravat awry in order to loosen his top two buttons; nothing to lessen the effect of a formidable earl, with black hair, black eyes and a strong sense of presence; an earl who was used to getting his own way.

'Now,' he said, turning his attention to Sarah, 'we'll discuss your duties. You were surprised at the list of accomplishments I expect, but you speak French, at least, I take it?' he asked.

'A little,' said Sarah.

'Only a little?' he asked with a frown.

She nodded.

'And what do you think of the children?' he threw at her in French.

'I think they are willing, intelligent and well behaved,' she answered him, also in French; but her accent was not as good as his.

'As you say,' he remarked dismissively. You speak French "a little". And how about music?' he asked her. You play the piano, I take it? And the harp?'

The harp, no. But I play the piano - a little.'

Tell me, Miss Davenport,' he said, raising his eyebrows, is there anything you do more than "a little"?'

1 care about the children more than a little,' she said honestly.

You're not employed to care about them, you are employed to educate them - or, at least, to educate Lucilla,' he returned.

The two go hand in hand. Lucy won't need an accomplished governess until she's older. But what she does need is someone who will allow her to be a little girl instead of expecting her to behave like a perfect pupil all the time. The boys, too, need someone who will allow them to be children instead of expecting them to be models of perfection.'

You seem to have very decided views on the needs of children for one so young,' he remarked, adding, You speak, of course, from experience.'

She knew that his scathing remark was intended to silence her, but in fact it had the opposite effect. There was something about him that challenged her and she took up the gauntlet he had thrown down.

'As a matter of fact I do,' she said. 1 looked after my two younger brothers when my mother became an invalid and I know how important it is for children to play, as well as to work.'

You have two brothers?' he asked in surprise. Who is taking care of them now?'

Sarah felt her spirits fall as the thought of her forced separation from her dearly-loved brothers, but she did not let it show.

When my father died, they were adopted by my aunt and uncle,' she said.

Whilst you were left to fend for yourself?' he asked curiously.

Yes.'

He looked at her thoughtfully. 1 see.'

'No. I don't think you see at all,' she remarked, bristling despite herself, for although it was an old wound, it was still capable of giving her pain.

She saw his look of surprise, followed by an expression that showed he was intrigued. He regarded her intently, as though he did not know what to make of her and she thought it was possibly the first time in his life - other than to note an exceptional face or figure - that he had ever really looked at any woman, and wondered what went on inside her mind.

She thought, I puzzle him. He is used to quaking governesses or toad-eating social climbers or deferential servants, he has never met anyone like me before. Good!

Then he shook his head, as though shaking away his perplexities and said abruptly, The children's timetable will be as follows. The boys will be taught by their tutors until five o'clock every day. Once their tutors have left the Grange, the boys will be your responsibility for the rest of the evening, that is until you hand them over to the nurse so that she can put them to bed. During this time, they will do the homework their tutors have set for them. I am determined that they will not miss out on their education just because of their unfortunate loss. You will teach Lucilla the basic subjects in the morning, and you will devote your afternoons to teaching her needlework and the use of globes.'

'And when will the children play?' she asked.

'Play?' he asked.

Yes, play. Children need it, you know. My brothers worked hard but they also had time to run around and climb trees and generally enjoy themselves.'

You brothers are not my nephews,' he said. What is suitable for the Davenports is not suitable for the Randalls.'

'I see no reason why not,' said Sarah with a flash in her eyes, 'since they are all the sons of gentlemen.'

They didn't stand to inherit the Watermead estate,' he said dismissively.

'But you did,' countered Sarah. 'Did it mean you never had time to play?'

That is not the point.'

'It's exactly the point.'

'Miss Davenport,' he said in exasperation, 'Are you always so argumentative?'

'Only when I'm arguing for something I believe in. Children are children.' She realised belatedly that she was responding emotionally to the handsome man before her, when she ought to be speaking to him in a calm and businesslike way. She took a deep breath and steadied her rapidly beating pulse. If the children are treated with too much discipline, they will rebel. Or, even worse, they won't have the strength to resist and they'll submit; and once they've done that, their spirits will be broken. And that is a terrible fate.'

Spirits? Submit? Rebel? What are you talking about? was written clearly over his face, and again he looked puzzled, as if he did not know what to make of it. Or of her. His eyes roamed over her face and her heart lurched as they lingered there for a moment. Then they dropped to her hands, which held Lucy's work.

You've brought me some of Lucilla's work, I see,' he said.

Sarah gave a soft exhale, and it wasn't until the warm breath rushed out from between her lips that she realised she had been holding her breath.

She gave him the work and took the seat he offered her and then he fell silent as he looked at Lucy's work. To Sarah's surprise, he soon became absorbed. She had expected him to give everything a cursory glance and then make some scathing comment, but he did no such thing. He looked - really looked - taking a genuine interest in everything he saw; and Sarah, as well as being glad of the interest he was taking for Lucy's sake, was glad of the opportunity it gave her to recover her composure. Because she had to admit, she needed it.