The Impossible Governess (12 page)

The day was glorious with a light breeze playfully tugging their skirts as Georgeanne and Marissa whisked through the garden.  But once they made their way beyond the gate, Georgeanne realized she had absolutely no idea where they could go.  A nearby park was off limits since it was likely they’d be spotted by Marissa’s uncle or one of his friends.  Now if they could put their new guineas to good use . . .
Georgeanne pondered.  Guiding Marissa toward the mews, she espied the head groom and signaled him over to her side and quickly outlined her dilemma.

The grisly old retainer cast a wizened eye upon Georgeanne before giving Marissa a wink.  “Astley’s Royal Circus be just the sort of thing for two young ladies.  That’s ‘course you’re looking for some excitement.”  The old retainer was amply compensated for his suggestion with another of Georgeanne’s brilliant smiles.  With alacrity, the old man ordered the carriage to be hitched up.  The trusted groom dispatched to accompany them was also cautioned to “keep mum his dubber.”

Marissa was nearly beside herself with excitement and hopped impatiently from one foot to the next while the horses were being put in their traces.  Georgeanne’s own anticipation grew, listening to John Coachman abetting the child’s enthusiasm by telling exaggerated tales of acrobatic riders flying through the air on horseback.  It wasn’t until they were actually on their way that Georgeanne drew a sigh of relief.  They had managed to slip away, unnoticed by Marissa’s uncle.

Only once during her London season had Georgeanne attended the huge amphitheater, and she had never forgotten the experience.  Just as then, she and Marissa sat among the crowd, a mixture of all classes that generated a contagious excitement, watching acrobats perform their stunts.  Along with her little charge, she laughed uproariously at the clowns and let out squeals of fright as acrobats did dare-devil tricks riding on the backs of racing horses.

Afterwards, Georgeanne and Marissa felt quite lost among the vulgar crowd while waiting for John Coachman to fetch the carriage.  Then the ride home was almost as exciting as the circus show.  They were caught in a traffic jam where a brewery dray had lost a rear wheel, sending its fermented cargo rolling down the street.  Chaos erupted as the drivers of other carriages tried to dodge the huge barrels, while the locals lunged for the rolling kegs in anticipation of a free draught before the owner could reclaim his freight.  Marissa kept her nose pressed against the carriage window, surprised and entertained as much as Georgeanne by the antics of the populace.

Once their coach was moving again, they had a grand time recounting the marvelous spectacles just seen, both at the circus and on the street.  As the coach turned into the mews behind the townhouse, however, a solemn silence settled upon the two occupants.

After disembarking, hand in hand, Georgeanne and Marissa raced through the garden to the kitchen door.  But when they entered the kitchen, it was obvious catastrophe had struck.  Cook turned from the stove and glanced at them before sheepishly averting her gaze.  Hattie, who sat at the long, oak-planked table in the center of the room, jumped up and bobbed a curtsy.

“Oh, Miss, I’m that sorry, I am.  But I didn’t know what to say,” cried the young girl, very near tears.

“What is wrong, Hattie?” There really was no need to ask, for Georgeanne could easily deduce from their long faces that the game was up.

“It was right after you left, Miss.  Who’d believe his lordship would come up to the schoolroom looking for you both.  Said he wanted you to join him for tea, he did.  He’s been waiting in the drawing room ever since.”  The maid’s voice ended on an ominous note.

Georgeanne felt Marissa sidle next to her, as her tiny hand fiercely gripped her own.

“Was he very angry?”

“Oh mercy, Miss!” Hattie wailed, rolling her eyes toward the ceiling.

Georgeanne looked down at her charge, whose little face, pinched with worry, was turned up, watching her closely.  “
Well, there is nothing else we can do except face your uncle, Marissa, and the sooner the better.”  Squaring her shoulders, she said to the child, “Come, dear, it is time to pay the piper.”

She felt a tug on her hand as the little girl resisted her forward motion and responded with an encouraging smile.  “Take a deep breath, Marissa, and do not worry.  We will face your uncle together.”

Outside the double oak doors of the drawing room, they stopped momentarily.  Georgeanne almost lost her nerve when the staid Bivens unbent enough to bestow a look of commiseration on them.  But glancing at Marissa, she was heartened by the little girl’s imitation of her as she threw back tiny shoulders and inhaled deeply, making her little chest expand.

Holding hands, they crossed the threshold.

Raynor had taken up his habitual stance in front of the fireplace, one arm stretched across the mantle with his fingers drumming an impatient tattoo.  His expression was anything but reassuring, those busy brows irately drawn together.

Lady Ashbury and Will Townsend were also present, seated around the tea tray.  While Marissa’s aunt gave them a sympathetic look, Townsend appeared anything but pleased himself, though his scowl, Georgeanne noted thankfully, was directed toward his host.  The two fugitives cautiously made their way to stand on one side of the tea cart.

Raynor pushed away from the fireplace and took a menacing step toward them.  “Where the devil have you been?”

“Georgie took me to Astley’s Circus,” Marissa blurted out.

“Did she?”  With his blue eyes focused on his niece, his countenance softened.  “Did you have a nice time?”

His voice had turned as smooth as silk as he began to interrogate the child.  Georgeanne, however, wasn’t fooled one bit.

Happy to recite all she had seen, Marissa’s face brightened.  “We saw lots of horses, Uncle Tony.” 

“Hush up, Marissa,” Georgeanne whispered out of the corner of her mouth.

“They did all sort of tricks, too,” continued Marissa, anxious to please her uncle who was nodding his head, urging her on.

“Marissa, hush!” Georgeanne whispered louder.

“Georgie liked the clowns best and--Ouch!”  Marissa screeched to a stop, pulling away from her governess, rubbing her little arm.

“For heaven’s sake, be quiet,” hissed Georgeanne th
rough her teeth.  Drats, the situation was going from bad to worse with every word the child spoke.  Raynor’s face had taken on a ruddy hue from holding his anger in check while his eyebrows stretched in one dark, foreboding line above cold blue eyes.

“Yes, Marissa,” Raynor responded solicitously to his niece’s squeal of pain.

“Georgie pinched me.”  To Georgeanne’s ears, the little girl’s plaintive voice seemed to reverberate against the yellow damask walls of the room.

“She what?” exploded Raynor.

“Oh no, I should not think so!” Lady Ashbury’s soft outcry underscored her nephew’s rage.

“She pinched me,” repeated Marissa, giving her governess an exaggerated look of pain.

“Oh good grief,” Georgeanne groaned.  Raynor looked angry enough to strangle her, to say nothing of firing her on the spot.  She could already hear Mrs. Hawkins’ strident voice berating her when she showed up at the employment agency tomorrow without another reference.

“Miss Forsythe, would you kindly explain your actions.”  It was not a request, but one of Raynor’s imperious commands.

“You should not have pinched me, Georgie,” Marissa said with her lower lip stuck out.

“Please hush, Marissa,” Georgeanne sighed, totally exasperated with her little charge’s defection.

“No, you really should not have pinched her,” Raynor parroted his niece.  A smile played around his mouth, showing proof of his enjoyment at Georgeanne’s perturbation. 

Angry and frustrated, Georgeanne could no longer hold her tongue.  “
How dare you accuse me, my lord!  You have been neglecting Marissa, and for what?  Because that spiteful Lady Cosgrove was using your niece as a pawn only to impress you.  Why, she does not even like children.  You should have protected Marissa from that she-cat instead of punishing the child for defending herself.”

She was on a roll now and boldly stepped forward.  “And furthermore, what
Marissa did was hardly any worse than Lady Cosgrove’s own disgraceful behavior.  You are not the one who has been wronged, my lord.  I am fed up being the brunt of your sanctimonious anger.”

Raynor stared at the fire in her warm emerald eyes.  How quickly this woman could turn his blood from anger to passionate warmth, back to white hot anger again, he marveled with his fists clenched by his sides.  “You talk of mistreatment, madam, yet you are the one who just physically abused this child by pinching her,” he ground out between gritted teeth.

“It was not very nice to pinch me, Georgie,” Marissa added, obviously pleased that her uncle was taking up her side for once.

“Oh, do be quiet, Marissa,” Georgeanne retorted, reaching for the little girl’s hand, “or I shall pinch you again.”  With that, she turned on her heel, headed for the door with her charger reluctantly in tow.  “We will be in the schoolroom, should you care to see you
r niece, my lord.”  Exiting the room, Georgeanne closed the door with slightly more force than it required.

Raynor was speechless.  No one had ever talked down to him before.  As an uncomfortable silence settled over the drawing room, Lady Ashbury sat primly with her hands folded in her lap.

Townsend finally cleared his throat.  “She’s right, Tony.  It’s well known Olivia Cosgrove can’t stand the sight of children, yet she was making a real cake of herself over Marissa.”

“Shut up, Will,” Raynor said.  Then he, too, stormed out.  The door was spared any more stress, however, as he neglected to close it altogether.

“Well.”  Lady Ashbury let out a soft chuckle.  “That was enlightening.”

“I beg
your pardon, madam?” Townsend asked.

“Pay me no mind, Will.  Would you care for some more tea?”

“Might be best if I took my leave,” he said by way of declining the offer.

“You will not let this little contretemps keep you away tonight?”

“Think I’ll be welcome?” he asked dryly.

“Be assured, Will, you will be more than welcomed.”

He seemed satisfied with that and left Lady Ashbury sitting alone, deep in thought for some time.

***  Chapter 8  ***

“Slow down, Georgie.  My legs can’t go
so fast,” Marissa complained all the way up the stairs to the third floor.

“We have to hurry, dear.  I am late getting dressed,” was Georgeanne’s lame excuse for racing up the stairs.

Hattie awaited them with mugs of hot chocolate, and Georgeanne finally began to unwind.  Oh, how that dratted man infuriated her.  But she reminded herself, it wasn’t Marissa’s fault her uncle was an ogre.

After finishing their warm drinks, Georgeanne suggested Marissa help her dress for the big dinner Lady Ashbury had planned.  So, together they stood peering into the wardrobe.  With a sigh, Georgeanne reached for the only appropriate dress she had for the occasion, the same yellow silk she wore to tea.

“What’s the matter, Georgie?” asked Marissa, sitting cross-legged on her governess’s bed while watching Georgeanne slip the gown over her head.  Rosie was next to her, her wet black nose tucked under the folds of Marissa’s white muslin dress.

“It is this gown.  I have worn it so often.”

“It’s a pretty gown and you’re going to be the prettiest lady there.”

Georgeanne gave the child a smile.  “That is very sweet of you to say, Marissa.  But lots of pretty ladies will be there, and every last one more fashionably attired than me.”

“My mommy had all kinds of fancy dresses, but you’re the prettiest lady I ever saw.”

Marissa never talked about her parents, and in the past Georgeanne refrained from asking questions about them, fearing she might upset the child.  However, glancing toward the bed to check Marissa’s reaction, Georgeanne was heartened to see the little girl didn’t appear disturbed.  Genuinely, touched by Marissa’s candor, she replied, “Thank you, dear.  Did you watch your mother dress for parties?”

“Oh yes, and she would let me play with her jewelry and things, too.”

“I am sorry I cannot let you do that, Marissa.”

“I know you don’t have any, Georgie,” Marissa said matter-of-factly.  “When do you think I’ll be able to go to a party?”

“Not for a few years yet.”

“Why not?  I have tea with grownups now.”

“Yes, dear, but that is strictly family and close friends.”

“How old were you when you got to go to a party, Georgie?”

Sitting before the mirror of the vanity table, Georgeanne had brushed out her heavy auburn curls, then pulled them back into a knot at the nape of her neck.  Except for her mother’s pearl necklace and matching eardrops, she was ready.  Rising to sit beside her charge, she carefully arranged her skirt, trying not to rumple her gown.

“Sometimes I helped Papa when he had guests.  But, I had to sit very still and not utter a sound, for you must know that most adults do not particularly care for children about.”