The Fifth Kiss (16 page)

Nevertheless, she reminded herself, he was not the
only
one wounded. The entire family had suffered over Clara's death—and perhaps Perry most of all. In all this display of self-pity, bitter recrimination and guilt, were they forgetting the boy? “My lord,” she said tentatively, “I agree that … I have made an unforgivable mistake. But I don't think I'm mistaken about Perry. He doesn't deserve—”

“
Damnation
,” he spat out, wheeling around, “don't you ever
stop
? Is there nothing which will keep you from this everlasting interference?”

This sudden vituperation made her jump. “Wh-What? I … I only …” she stammered.

“You only want to throw my inadequacies in my face. Well, I don't need you to do that, my dear. I can do it quite well on my own.”

“I didn't mean—”

“Yes, you did. You
always
mean to put me in the wrong. You've tried to show me in the past that I didn't know how to be a husband, and
now
you want to show me that I don't know how to be a father. Very well, ma'am. You've shown me. But what about
you
? Take a look at
yourself
, my dear. You've been a meddling busybody from the first. You've brought trouble and contention with you whenever you've come on the scene.” He turned away from her in disgust. “Have done, woman,” he muttered savagely, “and leave me alone!”

Stunned, Olivia clapped her hand to her mouth to stifle the cry that sprang to her throat, and she ran from the room. He had said words like these to her before, but this time they struck her to the soul. Before, they had been merely angry words, spoken in the heat of the moment and not very deeply felt. But this time they were wrung out of the depths of him, and they struck her on the fresh wound of her guilt with the ring of truth.

Trembling, she stumbled to her room and crawled into bed. All night long, she wept. Early the next morning, she packed her things and left the house. A stableboy was prevailed upon to take out the curricle and drive her to Devizes where she would catch the mail to London. As she looked back at Langley Park from the rear window of the carriage, her tears began to flow again. If that house was to be put in order … if the children were to be helped over their loss … and if Strickland was to recover from his bitter grief … the task would have to be done by someone else. Her
meddling interference
—if indeed that was what it was—was at an end.

chapter eleven

Miss Elspeth Deering, governess to Lord Strickland's children, could bear no more. In the four months since Lady Strickland's passing, she had watched the goings-on with quiet dismay, but she'd told herself that it was not her place to say or do anything. All she could do was to care for the needs of the children and try to soothe their fears. But her efforts had not been enough. Without Miss Olivia, matters had gone from bad to worse. And this latest crisis was, for her, the last straw.

She paced about her little bedroom, nervously smoothing back the wisps of hair which had come loose from the knot at the back of her head. She was troubled to the core. She knew that she was not the sort to perform decisive actions. In all her life, she'd been a drifter—floating along with the tide of events without in any way taking control of them. She had done her father's bidding when she was young, and then, when he'd died and she was orphaned, an aunt had found the post at Langley Park for her. She had never been forced to make decisions for herself. Now, for the first time in her life, she was faced with a situation which called out for action, a situation which seemed fraught with danger—not for herself but for her charges, Perry in particular. If she didn't take matters in her own hands, the poor little fellow might be completely undone.

Hastily, she pulled out from her chest of drawers a few necessary garments and stuffed them into a small, shabby leather valise which her father had used to carry his Bible and sermon notes to and from the vicarage. It was too small for her needs, but it was the only piece of luggage she owned and would therefore have to do. As she busily crammed a clean petticoat, a pair of warm stockings, an extra handkerchief and a few other essentials into the corners of the bag, her mind reviewed the events of the past few months with renewed agitation.

She realized now that things had not been so very bad while Miss Olivia had been among them, although at the time they had seemed gloomy enough. But at least the young woman had kept the household in some semblance of peace and order. Then Miss Olivia had had a quarrel with his lordship, during which (according to Tilda, the upstairs maid, who'd claimed to have “overheard” the altercation and repeated the tale to the scullery maid who'd told it to the Cook, who'd ladled out the news, along with the soup, to everyone else on the household staff) he'd called Miss Olivia a meddling busybody. Tilda had reported that his lordship had been monstrously cruel. If the story was true, it was no wonder that Miss Olivia had decided to go back to London. Who could blame her?

But since that day the atmosphere in the household had been grim. The children were miserable, the servants sullen and disorderly, and Lord Strickland himself almost impossible to approach.

Through it all, Miss Elspeth had endeavored to shield the children from the worst of the confusion. In this, she had the valuable assistance of Mr. Clapham. Although she still disliked the tutor personally, she had to admit that he was devotedly protective of the children, especially Perry. He seemed to care for his charge as much as she, and he did his best to keep the boy's mind occupied with pleasant things. She herself spent all her waking hours with the children, soothing them when their mother's absence overwhelmed them, inventing games to keep them amused, making certain that their health, their eating habits, their cleanliness and their outdoor exercises should not be neglected. She noticed that the tutor, too, kept his eyes on them both, almost as aware of their needs as she was.

Therefore she was particularly incensed when, just yesterday, Lord Strickland peremptorily gave Mr. Clapham the sack. His lordship had paid an unexpected visit to the schoolroom and discovered that Perry, with Mr. Clapham's approval and encouragement, was still playing with his imaginary companion, Sir Budgidore. His lordship had fallen into a fury and, right before the horrified eyes of his son, had told the white-faced tutor to pack his things and take himself off the premises within a fortnight. “You have a fortnight and not one more day to find another post, do you hear?” Lord Strickland had declared. “And in the meantime, you are
not
to permit my son to indulge in these idiotic imaginings!”

Elspeth and little Amy, overhearing the commotion, had come running from the nursery to the schoolroom doorway just as Lord Strickland had lurched out. He brushed by Elspeth with a peremptory order to “stop gaping, and get back where you belong!” But before Elspeth turned to do as she was bid, she caught a glimpse of Perry's stricken face, and her heart had dropped down to her shoes.

Her alarm for the boy's state of mind proved to be justified. Later that afternoon, she found Perry sitting beside his empty bed, staring down at the pillow with a forlorn face. “Sir Budgidore is dying,” he told Miss Elspeth tragically. “Do you suppose he will go up to heaven like Mama?”

Poor Miss Elspeth was dumfounded. What was the significance in Perry's mind of Sir Budgidore's possible demise? Did it mean he was dispensing with his imaginary playmate because of his guilt over causing Mr. Clapham to lose his post? Or was there something even
more
forbidding in this development? She knew that Lord Strickland would expect her to tell the boy that there was really
no
Sir Budgidore and therefore that he couldn't die … but she hadn't the heart to say so. “What makes you think Sir Budgidore is so sick?” she asked gently.

“He told me,” Perry said, his underlip trembling. “Besides, you can see how he looks. He can't even get up out of bed.” He looked at Miss Elspeth in hopeless misery. “With Mama gone, and Aunt Livie, too … and soon Mr. Clapham … I don't know whom I shall talk to when Sir Budgidore dies.”

“But you still have me … and Amy,” the governess suggested earnestly.

“Yes. But Amy is so little you know … and really doesn't understand about important things like the Round Table. And you are so busy with her most of the time—”

“Not too busy for you, love, if you need me,” the governess said tenderly. “Besides, you can't be
certain
that Sir Budgidore won't get better.”

“How
can
he get better? No one here knows how to make him well,” Perry said despondently.

It was then that Miss Elspeth got her inspiration. She knew at once what had to be done, and she knew that
she
had to set about doing it. “Do you think you can take care of Sir Budgidore for a few days … until I can fetch Miss Olivia?
She
knows how to make him well, doesn't she?”

Perry blinked up at her uncertainly, almost afraid to let himself hope. “Oh,
could
you fetch her, Miss Elspeth? That would be the very thing, wouldn't it, Sir Budgidore?” He bent over the pillow to hear the knight's answer and then gave the governess a tentative smile. “He says he feels better already.”

Thus committed to take action, Miss Elspeth set about making her plans. She would go to London herself and convince Miss Olivia to come back. She would make Miss Olivia see that Perry's emotions were stretched to the breaking point. His sensitive nature could not endure another loss of someone to whom he had grown attached. At this painful time of his life, he could not afford to lose either his imaginary companion or the tutor whose devotion to him was unquestionable. Elspeth, in her determination to protect the poor, troubled boy from stress beyond his endurance, was about to take the first decisive step of her life.

When her valise was packed, she put on her warmest woolen shawl and her best bonnet and left her room. She checked the adjoining bedrooms to make certain that both children were sleeping soundly, and then she marched courageously down to the farthest end of the third-floor corridor and tapped at Mr. Clapham's door. After a long moment, it was opened. The tutor peered out into the dimness of the hallway from behind his spectacles, blinking in surprise. “Miss Elspeth? Is there anything wrong?”

“There's something I … I must discuss with you … I mean, I know this is a bit shocking, but may I come in for just a …?” Her voice trailed off in its usual, indecisive manner.

“Yes, please do,” he said, stepping back and permitting her to pass into his room. He noted with some surprise that she was attired for the outdoors and carried a valise. “Are you going
away
?”

“Yes. That's why I had to … that is, I must ask you to watch over the children while I'm gone, no matter what …”

Mr. Clapham frowned at her in confusion. He had always found the governess to be a muddleheaded sort, unable to speak with proper clarity. He took the valise from her hand and urged her to a chair. “You must forgive the confusion here, Miss Elspeth. I've already begun to pack my books, you see.”

She looked around the small room with interest. She had never visited him before and was surprised at the spartan appearance of his quarters. Her own room was quite pretty, with flowered dimity curtains at the window and some framed paintings on the walls. Mr. Clapham's room, however, was smaller than hers and quite bare of decoration. He'd covered two walls with a number of improvised shelves on which he'd stacked a great many books, but the room contained only the most necessary of furnishings—a small, crowded desk in one corner, a commode with a plain bowl and pitcher near his bed, and the one chair on which she was sitting. On the floor was a box which he had evidently been filling with the books he'd piled on his bed. She suddenly felt quite sorry for him. He must have led a lonelier and bleaker existence than she'd suspected. “That's quite all right, Mr. Clapham. I don't find much confusion here … but I don't know why you're packing so soon. Lord Strickland said a fortnight …”

The tutor sighed. “Yes, but I thought I might as well go now as later.”

“Oh, no, you
mustn't
!” Elspeth cried. “You must promise to stay as long as possible. Perry will be heartbroken, you know, if you …”

The tutor frowned unhappily and sank down on the bed. “I know. But he may as well become used to it. And I may as well begin to look for a new post as soon as I can.”

“But I'm going to London to speak to Miss Olivia about you, you see …”

“You're going to see Miss
Olivia
?” the astonished tutor asked. “About
me
?”

“Yes. Well, not
only
about you of course, but … I'm sure she can help you, too, if she …”

Mr. Clapham made a nervous, impatient gesture with his hand. “Miss Olivia won't be able to help me. She won't even
want
to, after I …” Here
his
voice petered out just as hers was wont to do.

“But why not?” Elspeth asked curiously.

“Never mind. I don't think she … thinks very highly of me.”

“But of course she does. That is, I always believed that she quite approved of … at least, I had the impression that …”

“Had you really?” the tutor asked, his eyes brightening. “Had she ever
said
anything to you in that regard?”

“I can't remember anything specific, of course, although I certainly believe that there were several occasions when … or one or two times, surely, when she remarked … I'm not sure of her exact words, but …”

The tutor sighed. “Well, it doesn't matter. But, Miss Elspeth, I don't quite understand why you should wish to take it upon yourself to go to Miss Olivia in my behalf.”