Lois Menzel (5 page)

Mrs. Saunders smiled at this self-deprecation. “You surprise me. Let me guess. You do not paint.”

“No, I do not,” Anne admitted. “Nor do I play—anything.”

“Not everyone is blessed with musical talent.”

“No, ma’am, but a governess is expected to be able to offer such.”

“Perhaps, but Belinda is still very young. We cannot expect her to read music before she can read English. There will be time enough later for music.”

“I do sew,” Anne offered, suddenly remembering one feminine talent, “Quite well.”

“Now that is a blessing!” Mrs. Saunders responded. “I have never set a single straight stitch in my life. The child has been working on a sampler that looks like a battlefield diagram for one of Wellington’s campaigns. She needs your help and advice in that—and at once. When can you start?”

Anne could scarcely believe her good fortune. “When do you need me?” she asked.

“Tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow,” Anne repeated, feeling stupid, knowing she could not possibly start tomorrow, then in the next moment asking herself why not. Nothing could be simpler.

“Good,” Mrs. Saunders was saying. “I shall send the coach to collect you at two in the afternoon. Would that be convenient?”

“Yes, ma’am. You are too generous.”

“Not at all. You cannot be expected to carry your trunks. At what number does your aunt reside?”

“Number twenty-three, Oxford Street, ma’am.” “Very well. You may expect the coach at two o’clock. When you arrive, Mrs. Heathwaite will see that you are settled, and I will meet with you Wednesday to discuss your duties.”

As Mrs. Saunders rose and rang for the footman, Anne realized her interview was over. She allowed herself a slight smile as she parted from her new employer. On her short walk home she practiced what she would say to her Aunt Hodder. Even though Anne suspected that her aunt would be displeased to see her leave so soon, she refused to allow the prospect to erode her triumphant mood.

* * * *

When Anne arrived at Tenbury House to take up residence as the new governess, she was treated with great civility by Mrs. Heathwaite and the other servants who came in contact with her. Having seen the position Ruth Marsh held in Aunt Hodder’s home, Anne had been prepared to be treated as
just another member of the household staff. She had no way of knowing that Lord Tenbury’s staff had been carefully instructed by Mrs. Saunders at her brother-in-law’s request. “Miss Waverly is a lady, born and bred, and is no less so simply because she has been forced to earn her living. His lordship desires that she be treated with utmost respect so long as she remains in this house.”

Anne soon discovered that her responsibilities at Tenbury House would be neither arduous nor time-consuming. She was responsible for Belinda from the time the child rose in the morning until two in the afternoon. Beyond that, Anne’s time was her own. It soon weighed heavily on her, for she was accustomed to her cottage chores, her rose and vegetable gardens, and most of all, her father’s beloved library. She’d had a glimpse of Tenbury’s library the first time she visited the house; now she longed to browse there. But she knew it was impossible. Private rooms in the house were not for her use.

After several days of wiling away her afternoons on needlework, Anne ventured out to the lending library, and in her eagerness borrowed more books than she could easily carry. With her arms overfull, the walk back was not nearly so pleasant as the walk out had been. She had covered less than half the distance to Grosvenor Square when her arms began to ache abominably, and she regretted her greed in bringing so many volumes with her. Just as she was considering setting her burden down, a carriage pulled up in the street beside her.

“Miss Waverly?”

She glanced up to see Lord Tenbury on the high perch of a phaeton drawn by two handsome chestnuts.

“It seems you have more than two arms can handle. Are you going home? May I offer you a ride?”

Anne glanced at him only briefly, then her eyes moved back to the high-spirited horses prancing impatiently, their shod hooves beating a tattoo on the flagstones. The carriage itself, graceful and fragile, rolled back and forth as they fretted. Anne’s answer was so automatic that she took no time to consider what its effect might be upon the earl.

“Thank you, no, my lord. I prefer to walk.” When his pleasant countenance clouded she amended hastily. “Actually what I mean to say is that I
enjoy
walking—for exercise.”

“I should hate to curtail your exercise,” he returned, “but I will at least relieve you of your burden.”

He had only to glance at his groom, Murdock, for the man to leap into the street and lift the books from Anne’s arms. She gave them up willingly, then stood by as Murdock climbed back into the carriage. “I trust your walk will be even more enjoyable now,” Tenbury said.

“Thank you, my lord. I am certain it will be.”

He inclined his head slightly and then dropped his hands, allowing the horses to walk on.

Anne did not enjoy the remainder of her walk. How she loathed her weakness! The simple sight of the shifting carriage was enough to make her knees tremble. What made the incident so awkward was knowing that Tenbury was largely responsible for her being hired. Now she seemed ungracious. When she arrived at the house, she found the books stacked neatly on a table in the schoolroom.

The following morning, just after ten o’clock, Ten-bury made his way to the second floor and paused in the hallway outside the open schoolroom door. Miss Waverly was reading a story to Belinda—one of Aesop’s Fables.

“... for Tortoise had learned an invaluable lesson: slow and steady wins the race.”

“That is a wonderful story, Miss Waverly. I liked Tortoise ever so much,” Belinda said.

“He was clever, was he not? I have a book of my own, with this same story and lovely pictures throughout. Hare has the smuggest face. When I get my books, I will show it to you.”

“I will read the story to you next time,” the little girl suggested.

“I should like that,” Anne replied.

Anne sat facing the open door and therefore noticed Tenbury the moment he entered. He was dressed in riding clothes—a rich brown coat and flawless buckskin breeches. She stood instantly, and her glance at Belinda brought the child to her feet as well.

“Good morning, Lord Tenbury.”

“Good morning, Uncle Nate.”

“Ladies,” he acknowledged, smiling at his niece. “I should like to speak with Miss Waverly privately, Belinda.” Then looking at Anne, he added, “If it is not inconvenient.”

“No, not at all.” Anne laid the book aside, then carefully removed her spectacles and placed them with it. “You may go play with your kitten, Belinda,” she said. “I will call when it is time to do sums.”

The child wrinkled her nose at the mention of sums but went obediently into the next room. Anne closed the door and then turned rather nervously to confront Tenbury. His next words surprised her.

“I was distressed to see you out yesterday unattended. Was there no one to accompany you?”

“I asked no one to accompany me, my lord.”

“Why not?”

“I am the governess, sir. I need no companion—”

“That is not precisely true. You are the governess; but you are also a gentlewoman and should not walk city streets unattended. No doubt you were accustomed to walking alone in the country, but country customs will not serve here. They are neither acceptable nor safe. In future, if you desire to go out, I would prefer you take one of the maids with you, or better yet, order the carriage, especially if you intend to visit the library and bring home half their stock.”

Then, rather abruptly, he changed the subject. “As I came into the room just now, I heard you tell Belinda that you would show her something when you get your books. Have you some things in storage somewhere?”

“I left several trunks, mostly books, with my vicar, Mr. Boone.”

“Have you sent for them?”

“Not yet.”

“Why not?”

As she hesitated, searching for a delicate way to say she could not afford to, the obvious occurred to him.

“What is his direction?” he asked.

“Mr. Jeremiah Boone, the village of Ripley, Cambridgeshire.”

“I will arrange to have your things sent on to Wiltshire,” he said, “for we will be leaving town soon. Meanwhile, you have my permission to use the library here. It gets little enough use. You appear puzzled, Miss Waverly. What have I said to make you look at me so?”

“If you must know, my lord, I am amazed that you should concern yourself with me.”

“I always concern myself with the people who work for me, particularly when they hold a position of influence over the younger, more impressionable members of my family. I will not detain you longer; I realize I am disrupting your study with Belinda.”

When he had gone, Anne delayed in calling Belinda to her lessons as she pondered her new employer’s behavior, for though his words seemed reasonable, she still found it odd that he should concern himself so closely with his niece’s governess.

Anne knew she would never order the carriage for her own use, but she resolved to take a maid with her the next time she went out. She had no desire to displease the earl, thereby jeopardizing her position.

* * * *

That same day, the Earl of Tenbury made a visit to White’s in the early afternoon. Having given up his hat and gloves to a footman, he moved toward the lounge, stood for a moment in the doorway, then made his way toward a gaunt gentleman seated in an armchair near the windows.

The Duke of Chadwicke put aside
The
Morning Post
as he indicated the chair to his right. “Good of you to come, my boy. It is to be hoped you have good news for me.”

“As a matter of fact, I do, Your Grace,” Tenbury replied. “Miss Waverly is safely installed under my roof. She has been engaged as governess to my brother’s child. It was the best I could do, under the circumstances.”

“Damn the circumstances,” the duke responded. “I have seldom seen a more muddled business. Nothing could be more awkward.”

“Perhaps now that Miss Waverly is settled, Uncle, you can tell me why all this secrecy was necessary. You were lamentably short with details when last we spoke.”

“I know, lad, and I am sorry, but the woman decided to leave the cottage suddenly. Caught me off guard. When I heard she had bolted for London, I nearly panicked, for I knew I could not leave her to manage here on her own, notwithstanding my arrangement with her grandfather. I immediately thought of you. I knew you were in town and could be trusted to do the thing without arousing her suspicions. How did you manage it?”

“Simply enough. Once you had informed me where she was staying, I followed her on a shopping expedition and overheard enough of her conversation to know she was seeking a position. I then suggested to Mrs. Saunders that it was time her daughter had a governess—a suggestion she had not the least objection to. I managed to have Miss Waverly hear of the position through the servants’ gossip. She appeared for an interview, but we nearly lost her when she came without references and my secretary showed her the door. I ended up doing the interview myself and then recommended Miss Waverly to my sister-in-law. She usually takes my advice, so all went well.”

“And if Mrs. Saunders had not engaged her?”

“I would have found another way—companion to my mother perhaps.”

“Do you think she suspects?”

“I don’t believe so. The day I followed her to Bond Street, one of the shopkeepers tried to cheat her. I had no choice but to come to her defense. It was unfortunate that she needed help, for I would rather not have called attention to myself. Yet when we met again, she seemed to attribute the meeting to coincidence. I believe that incident actually made our initial conversation more natural. That, and my having met her father some years ago.”

“I have never met her myself,” Chadwicke said, “but by all accounts she is dull and dowdy, a bookworm, staid, prim, and not at all comely.”

“At first glance, she seems to be those things,” Tenbury replied, “but I do not find her dull, nor prim, nor lacking in sense.”

“Well, that is something, then. You have acquitted yourself well in this, Tenbury. I am in your debt.”

“Is there anything more I can do?”

“Whatever you can to make her stay comfortable. Her work won’t be too demanding?”

“Hardly. My niece is only eight and possessed of a sweet nature. I cannot consider that teaching her would be drudgery.”

“Good ... good. I only hope Giles understands that I am doing the best I can ... considering. Of course, I have written to him, advising him of this latest development, but it could be months before we hear anything. Until then we must simply do our best.”

“If I am to do my best, then I think it is time you told me everything.”

“Ah, I am afraid it is a long story, Tenbury.”

The earl stretched his legs out before him, crossing his glossy Hessians at the ankles. “I have all afternoon, and I don’t intend to leave until I am in possession of all the details.”

Chapter 5

During the following week, Anne had no opportunity to explore the city, for the household was busy with preparations for its removal to the country now that the Season was ending. Anne packed not only for herself but for Belinda, a task that occupied her afternoons for three days.

On the day before their scheduled departure, Arelia Saunders swept into the schoolroom in the early afternoon. Anne was there, gathering the books she needed to return to the lending library before she left town.

“Miss Waverly. Here you are,” Mrs. Saunders said by way of greeting. “Are you through packing?”

“Yes, ma’am. I finished yesterday.”

“Good. I should like you to accompany me on a short shopping expedition. It will be my last chance to visit the London shops for some months. Will you come?”

“Certainly,” Anne answered, assuming Mrs. Saunders was asking for her company because all the maids were too busy to leave their work. “Could we possibly return these books while we are out? I had planned to ask one of the footmen—”