The Impossible Governess (19 page)

The next she knew Hattie was shaking her awake, dispelling her confusing dreams of a gentle, lover-like Raynor professing his undying love to her.

“You’d best hurry and wake up, for we’ve only got so much time to get dressed, Miss,” said the maid.  Hustling her out of bed and into action, Hattie chatted about how much she enjoyed waiting on Georgeanne.  “Even if you are just a governess, I feel like a real lady’s abigail, you know, instead of an ordinary nursery maid.  It’s sorta like one of my dreams coming true.”

Yes, thought Georgeanne, she knew all to well about dreams, especially those that
were more like fairy tales.  But at least for Hattie, a chance to become a lady’s maid was not out of sight. 

When it came time for Georgeanne to put on her gown, Hattie was all smiles.  “Wait here, Miss,” she said, then slipped out of the room.  She was back in moments with a beautiful cream silk gown with a gold net overskirt. “Lady Ashbury had it made up for you.  Said she thought you might like to have a new gown.”

Minutes later, staring through her tears at the mirror that hung over the vanity, Georgeanne smoothed the front of the net skirt with shaking hands.

“Come now, Miss,” Hattie said, pulling out the chair at the vanity.  “We’ve still got your
hair to do up.”

Pulling
her hair up in a top knot, Hattie threaded a gold ribbon through it and let a few auburn curls frame her face.  Then Georgeanne fastened her mother’s single strand of pearls at her neck and the matching pearl drops to her ear lobes.  She knew she could never hope to compete with the young debutantes who’d be there tonight in their new finery and sparkling jewels, but she could hold her head high knowing she looked her very best. 

Even Marissa, who in the course of events had w
andered into the room to become a highly interested observer, sat back on her heels in the middle of Georgeanne’s bed and clapped her hands excitedly, proclaiming, “You’re beautiful, Georgie.  You will be the prettiest lady there.”

Impulsively, Georgeanne gave the little girl a quick kiss before taking her hand and leading her back to the schoolroom.  There
, making a merry time of it, the three of them shared Marissa’s dinner of baked chicken and boiled potatoes.  When the hour came for Georgeanne to go down to the drawing room, she promised Marissa that she would come up later to tuck her in bed.

She was to dine with selected guests before the ball and stood hovering just inside the door of the drawing room, searching for a familiar face among those already gathered for dinner. She intended to stay unobtrusively along the fringes of the room and had managed to do so, bidding good evening to a few people she recognized.  But her gaze kept straying to a group in front of the fireplace where Raynor stood, his blue eyes scanning the room, almost as though he were searching for someone.  Probably Olivia Cosgrove, concluded Georgeanne unhappily.

“You look stunning, my dear.”

Georgeanne
turned to find Lady Ashbury at her side and said, “Thank you for the gown.  It is—“

“Piffle, you have certainly earned it, so not another word.”  Taking Georgeanne’s hand and drawing it through her arm, the older lady said, “Come, let me introduce you to some young people.”

She led Georgeanne over to two ladies, Mrs. Satterwhite, a young married lady, and Miss Pernell, a plain, very quiet woman, who tended to stammer. Both women were about Georgeanne’s age, and she found it very easy to converse with Mrs. Satterwhite.  Then she tried to put Miss Pernell at ease by carrying most of their dialogue.  In a flash of insight, it occurred to Georgeanne that a few years ago, nay, barely six months, she would have ignored Miss Pernell, rather than take an interest in making the timid woman feel comfortable.

She had begun to unwind and enjoy herself when Lord Townsend appeared at her elbow.  It had been well over three weeks since she’d last seen him, for he had stayed away from Curzon Street ever since she had refused him.  With some perturbation, she noticed his slightly heightened color, no doubt due to embarrassment as this was their first meeting after that last painful one.  Feeling awkward herself, she returned his reserved greeting somewhat effusively before presenting him to the other two women.  His easy manners soon surfaced, however, and all three ladies were laughing as he related his recent troubles, traveling to and from his estate
s.

But the amiable atmosphere was of short duration.  Out of the corner of her eye, Georgeanne saw Raynor crossing the room, coming in her direction.  He’d only negotiated a few steps when Lady Cosgrove positioned herself directly in his path and plac
ed one hand firmly on his sleeve.  Even though he tried to untangle himself, Olivia persisted in clinging possessively to him; thus, he was forced to accept her company.

“La, my lord, where have you been of late,” Olivia asked Townsend
.  As she and Raynor drew nearer, a definite pall settled upon the little group.

“No
where in particular, Olivia.”  Townsend’s voice was gruff, and he seemed unaccountably annoyed with the blond beauty.

“That is not what I have heard,” she challenged him with a mischievous glint in her eyes.  “Rumor has it that you have developed an insatiable thirst for tea.”  The laugh that followed was hollow and her eyes narrowed as they rested on Georgeanne.  “But actually, we rarely have seen you.  Is that not so, Anthony?”

Raynor did not answer Olivia.  Instead, he adroitly shifted positions, maneuvering the provoking beauty between himself and Mrs. Satterwhite and complimented the young wife on her husband’s success as a newly elected member to the House of Commons, plying her with questions about his constituency. 

Townsend took the opportunity to ask in a quiet voice, “How have you been, Miss Forsythe?”

Georgeanne met his easy smile with one of her own.  “Very well, my lord.  Marissa and I have missed your presence at tea.  As you may have heard, Lady Cosgrove usually joins us.”

Townsend chuckled while giving Lady Cosgrove a hard look.  “You’ll forgive me, Miss Forsythe, but I’m rather glad I was unable to attend.” 

Before she could reply, Bivens announced dinner, and Georgeanne could have sworn she’d heard several sighs of relief. 

To accommodate the
thirty people who sat down, extra leaves had been added to the dining room table where crystal goblets and gold-rimmed plates glittered and sparkled from the soft candle light provided by a dozen silver candelabra, placed at intervals along the table’s breadth.  These also reflected in four enormous gilt-framed mirrors, the only decorations that hung on the red damask walls. 

Raynor’s Cook had taken this opportunity to display her culinary talents as the covers were removed on innumerable courses to
reveal succulent poultry, game and fish in rich sauces and creams, garnished vegetables and decadent desserts.  Georgeanne was unable to do justice to the meal, partaking very little of the elaborate menu since she had so recently eaten with Marissa.

She soon began to enjoy herself, however.  On one side of her was a vicar, the picture of a benevolent, fatherly figure, while her other partner was an old gentleman friend of Lady Ashbury’s, Sir Thomas Willingham who, it turned out, had known Georgeanne’s father.  With such undemanding and pleasant company, she could relax, at least for the duration of the meal.  She was also gratified to see Miss Pernell, placed on the other side of the vicar, had been partnered with an earnest young man who was the third son of an earl studying for the church.  From what little Georgeanne could observe, it appeared the timid woman was actually carrying on a conversation with that gentleman, even though he seemed to be doing the majority of the talking.

It was useless to stop herself from glancing any number of times down the long table to where Raynor was seated at the head with Olivia on his right, preening as though she were the belle of the ball.  At one point, Georgeanne caught Raynor’s blue eyes staring at her for what seemed like an eternity, and she felt the heat of a blush on her cheeks.  But before Georgeanne could divine the strange glint in his gaze, he looked away when Olivia had touched his sleeve to gain his attention.

When the ladies prepared to adjourn, Lady Ashbury gently admonished the gentlemen not to linger too long over
their cigars and port, then led the women out, guiding most to the drawing room while a few were directed to guest rooms to refresh themselves.  Georgeanne took this opportunity to slip up to the third floor.  As she expected, Hattie was sitting in a chair next to the bed, reading a story to Marissa who was dressed in a frilly muslin night gown, wide awake and looking lost, propped up against a mound of white fluffy pillows, with her spaniel puppy curled up beside her.

“Georgie, you came!” cried the child with a huge smile.

“I promised I would, dearest.  But you are not asleep?”  Thinking how lonely this little girl must feel with no one but servants to look after her, her heart ached for her charge.

“Now, Miss,” said Hattie with a snort, “you know this little lady here won’t go to sleep with all the noise and ruckus coming from below.”  Marissa’s bedroom was located across from Georgeanne’s on the top story, and all the rooms on the floor below had been allotted to overnight guests or opened up for ladies to use when torn flounces and hems needed mending as well as repair
s to their toilettes.  Even now, servants could be heard running about every which way, doors opening and closing with a murmur of voices wafting up the stairwell as guests greeted one another.

“Yes, dear, but it is getting late,” said Georgeanne, sitting on the edge of the bed and drawing the child into an affectionate hug.

“Are the other ladies as pretty as you?” asked Marissa.

“Oh yes, they are very pretty.”

Turning her little face up to her governess, the little girl replied wistfully, “I wish I could see them.”

It was such a simple request, thought Georgeanne, and one that was certainly within her power.  With a little ingenuity, surely Hattie and she could smuggle the child down to the gallery that overlooked the ballroom where she could view the grand affair unnoticed. 

The silence that followed must have commuted Georgeanne’s intent to acquiesce, for Marissa clapped her tiny palms together and begged, “Oh, please say I can, Georgie?  I will be ever so good.”

“Now, Miss,” cautioned Hattie, with a frown marring her brow, “ain’t no time to be getting up a lark.  Milord won’t like it one bit, and we’ll end up right back in the suds again, we will.”

“Not if we lock Rosie in the bedchamber,” Georgeanne said, giving the little spaniel laying next to Marissa a pat on the head.  “Really, Hattie, all Marissa wants to do is have a peek, and then she will go straight to bed and sleep.” 

“Oh, I will, I promise I will,” cried Marissa excitedly.

With her mind made up, Georgeanne quickly bundled the child into a pink flannel robe and slippers before taking her hand and stealthily leading her down the stairs with a disapproving Hattie close on their heels.  Whenever they heard anyone coming, they made a game of ducking in a doorway.  But despite their caution, one of the footmen did catch the threesome sneaking down the second story stairs.  With a beseeching look, Georgeanne put an index finger to her lips, signaling him to silence.  Then, with Marissa mimicking her every action, she gave the astonished servant a conspiratorial wink before they disappeared around the corner.

Upon reaching the gallery, the interlopers hung back in the shadows, hugging the wall.  In times past, the musicians would have been placed here, but over the years the supports had weakened, and Raynor had deemed it unwise to install the orchestra there.  Since Lady Ashbury hated suffocating crushes, which was considered necessary to make any entertainment a success, and had deliberately kept the number of invitations to a minimum, there was room enough for a dais to be erected at one end of the long hall to accommodate the musicians. 

Even so, as the ball had just commenced, the trio let their eyes feast on the crowded kaleidoscope of whirling couples on the dance floor below as the gentlemen, more soberly dressed, led the ladies through intricate dance steps. Gowned in every color imaginable, their brilliant jewels sparkling under the candlelight of two huge chandeliers.

When Marissa tugged on her hand to move closer to the rail, Georgeanne motioned for her to crouch down.  Together, they moved out of the shadows toward one of the large pillars that supplied the support for the balcony, affording them some cover.  While Hattie was content to stay back, Georgeanne and Marissa knelt together with their arms around each other, completely dazzled by the enchanting sights and sounds, and time became suspended for the two on-lookers.

Then something pricked Georgeanne’s consciousness, and next she sensed Raynor had fixed his gaze on them.  Scanning the room for his tall lean figure, she espied him, standing a little apart from Olivia, looking incredibly handsome in his black evening attire with a diamond stick pin glittering among the pristine folds of a white cravat, his blue eyes boring into hers.

“Time to go back,” she whispered urgently to Marissa before hefting the child against her hip and pulling back into the shadows.  “We have been spotted by his lordship,” she hissed to Hattie, causing the stout little maid to roll her eyes in trepidation before she hastened to follow the pair scurrying back to Marissa’s bedroom.