The Impossible Governess (22 page)

Well, so much for benevolence and trying to give a helping hand to her own kind, thought Fanny.  This time she’d applied to the Hawkins Employment Agency for Domestics, which was reputed to cater to the
beau monde
.  She did wonder, though, why it was taking so long for a replacement to be found.

About then,
Fanny espied a hackneyed carriage drawing up to the curb.  While the black bonnet obscured the woman’s features, the visitor who alighted appeared fashionably dressed, though in an understated way which ran contrary to Fanny’s tastes as well as that of her friends.

Popping the final morsel of chocolate pass her rouged lips, then licking her fingers thoroughly,
she waited patiently for the starched up butler to announce the unexpected guest.

“Begging your pardon, madam, but the
employment agency has sent over a young woman who wishes to apply for the position of governess.”  Though not a large man, the butler’s overly correct posture gave him the appearance of looking down his nose at his employer.

“A young woman, you say?”  A frown puckered her forehead while her eyes narrowed thoughtfully.  “Well, send her in.”

One look at Georgeanne and under normal circumstances Fanny Kidd would have dismissed her out of hand.  But the children’s nurse was becoming tiresome, constantly sending messages that she desperately needed help in the schoolroom or she’d quit.  And since motherhood was not one of Fanny’s better attributes, she could not afford to have that happen.

“Your references, Miss Forsythe,” demanded Fanny after introductions had been made.

“I have none, madam.”  The young woman squared her shoulders and stood with her hands clasped in front of her.

“I fail to see why you are here, then.”  Fanny’s scowl had deepened upon determining the young woman’s eyes were actually green, the deep rich green of a
leaf.

“You did request a lady of impeccable background?”  When Fanny begrudgingly acknowledged the question with a slow nod, the young woman said, “Mrs. Hawkins had implied no references were necessary since I had a Season and even made my bow in the Queen’s drawing room before the Prince Regent himself.”

“Did you now?”  Fanny Kidd took another look at the young woman before her.  Yes, she detected breeding in the girl’s stance. “Who are your parents?”

“Both are now deceased, but my mother was the former Prudence Ingalls, a vic
ar’s daughter, and my father was Sir Edmund Forsythe and distantly related to the Duke of Rutledge.”

Now that Fanny had time to study it, the chit’s nose did have that aristocratic tilt.
If only the girl weren’t quite so pretty.  Of course, there was little worry that Mr. Kidd would become attracted to the dasher standing before her.  After all, the stroke had deprived her husband of most of his facilities so that he might as well be dead, except for the way his beady eyes followed everyone about the room.  Besides, the chit would be stuck up in the attic with her young brood of six.

Fanny heaved a satisfied sigh.  Wouldn’t she just be the envy of all her friends with a real blue blood for a governess?  She never considered asking Georgeanne about her qualifications as a teacher since she had none herself.  If her governess’s ancestry accomplished more for her own social standing within her circle of friends than the advancement of her children’s education, well that was just another accepted fact of life.

***  Chapter 15  ***

One week later, Janie, a wholesome, freckled faced young woman sitting behind the reception desk, was not particularly surprised when she looked up from her task at the sound of the outer door of the employment agency opening. Coming in from the street was a well-heeled handsome gentleman.  In most instances, she expected a liveried footman ferrying his employer’s instructions, but on occasion a well-to-do gentleman or lady would appear, especially if there was a particularly delicate matter to discuss with Mrs. Hawkins.  Upon further examination, she realized the gentleman was most definitely Quality.  There was no denying his aristocratic bearing with that most handsome countenance.

“I am here to see the agency owner,” the gentleman replied to the secretary’s inquiry as to how she might assist him after he presented his calling card to her.  If he saw her eyes widen in astonishment once she read his name, he made no indication but turned his back to inspect the rest of the room.  Except for the secretary’s desk, only a half dozen ladder back wooden chairs lined the plain walls.  The gentleman turned back toward the desk and remained standing.

After a moment of indecision, the girl jumped up and scurried over to the only other door besides the entrance.  Tapping lightly on it, she ducked inside, not waiting for the usual summons to enter.

“Ms. Hawkins,” she whispered hoarsely, her nervousness betraying her Cockney background. “It be him,
‘e’s come!”

Mrs. Hawkins, being the savvy business woman she was, had a very good suspicion of just who “
’e” was.  Nevertheless, she asked, “Who, Janie?”

There had been a number of inquiries made over the past week about the whereabouts of Miss Georgeanne Forsythe by persons acting as Lord Raynor’s agents.

“That Miss Forsythe, ‘er gent’s ‘ere.”

“Calm yourself, Janie,” Mrs. Hawkins said curtly and stood to smooth the wrinkles out of the front of her gown, a ploy to cover her own agitation.  Pushing the wire-rimmed spectacles up over the bridge of her nose, she instructed the girl in an authoritative voice, “Well, by all means, show his lordship in, Janie.”

The proprietress carefully scrutinized Raynor as he came through the doorway, expecting to spot some flaw.  There were always rumors circulating about him, of course, since he was one of the most eligible
parti
on the Marriage Mart.  Still, she was surprised by his commanding height and the elegance of his impeccable attire.  Frankly, she was amazed that the Forsythe chit had resisted the amorous advances of a man with such a strong, compelling countenance.  Those blue eyes, though hardly friendly, combined with that handsome face and tall athletic build would set the pulses of many a maiden to fluttering. 

Stilted introductions were made b
efore he declined taking a seat.  Instead, he came immediately to the point.

“I believe you have a young woman, Miss Forsythe, currently on your roster.  Until recently, she was governess to my niece.  I want to rehire her.”

“That is not possible, my lord.”  She noted how the muscles of his square jaw clenched upon receiving her contrary reply and inwardly flinched from his icy blue stare.  This one wouldn’t easily accept defeat.  Good heavens, what was it about the chit that aroused such interest in nearly all the gentlemen she encountered.  Ah well, what did it matter, anyway, thought Mrs. Hawkins prosaically.  The blasted girl was going to cost her another excellent client.

“She has already accepted another position, my lord.”

“Who is her current employer?”

“I am sorry, but I am not at liberty to say.”

“Why not, madam?”  His haughty tone reflected his annoyance while those black eyebrows had drawn together, giving him an extremely fierce appearance.

Oh yes, it was clear her agency would lose his patronage.  Mrs. Hawkins looked over the rim of her wire-rims at his lordship.  “If it is a governess you seek, my Lord Raynor, I have several women who have excellent recommendations you could interview.”

“I am not interested in another governess.  It is Miss Forsythe I seek,” he said angrily, making him clip his words.  He drew himself up straighter, then tried for a more placating tone.  “In the short period of time Miss Forsythe was with us, my niece became very attached to her.  Indeed, the child is almost beside herself with grief, and I am afraid no one else will suffice.”

“Oh dear, that does present a problem, my lord.  Miss Forsythe made specific reference to you when she requested I not release her direction.”  Let him chew that one over, she thought with a measure of satisfaction as he blanched at the implied meaning.

“I see,” he muttered so softly she strained to hear him.  He took a seat then, resting an elbow on the arm of the chair, his chin in his hand.  He appeared lost in thought, and several moments passed before he apparently came to a decision.  Leaning forward, his blue eyes were fixed intently on hers. 

“I do not know what Miss Forsythe has revealed to you, Mrs. Hawkins, but let me give you the facts with no bark on it.  It is no small matter that Marissa is having trouble adjusting without Georgeanne, er, Miss Forsythe, but so am I.  My regard for the lady is sincere.”

“She did explain that she had encountered some, er... misunderstanding, my lord, and that is part of the reason why I am honor bound not to break her trust.”

“Ah,” he said, his scowl lifting with enlightenment.  “Then you are aware that I behaved in a less than gentlemanly fashion.  At any rate,” he continued, not waiting for her to concur, “I have come to realize just how much I do care for Miss Forsythe and hope she will accept an honorable offer from me.”

This public declaration had come with an obvious cost to his pride, and it helped to raise her estimation of his character considerably.  And as he still held her gaze, she saw that he was indeed sincere.  In that moment, she made a decision.

“You will understand that I have given my word,” she replied gravely, while her eyes searched the top of her desk.  She reached for a stack of cards and placed them directly in front of her, then lowered her head to direct a meaningful look at him over the wire rims of her glasses again.  “Of course, there are always alternative means of obtaining information, is that not so, my lord?” 

Deftly thumbing through the stack, she very deliberately went about removing one card before positioning it on top of the others.  Taking off her spectacles, she focused her eyes on the lenses for several moments before rising. “I beg you will excuse me for a moment, my lord.  I just remembered something that needs my immediate attention.”

Rising out of his chair, he inclined his head as she made to exit the room.  With her hand on the door knob, she stopped to spear him with a penetrating glare.  “One more thing, my lord.  If there is even a hint of untruth in anything you have disclosed to me, you might reconsider trying to locate Miss Forsythe.  I will not allow any harm come to her, no matter what the consequences may be.”

“Your concern is touching but misguided.  Believe me when I tell you I desire only the best for the young lady.”

She studied him for another moment, then nodded her head and exited the room, firmly closing the door behind her.

Raynor wasted little time snatching up the card and reading the neatly lettered name and address of “Mrs. Ignatius Kidd, Husband’s Occupation—Merchant.”

“Damnation!” he exclaimed with his brows puckering together. “Not that encroaching mushroom and her brood of brats.”

~~~~~

Settling into the Kidd household had been difficult for Georgeanne, and though she’d been there for a full week, it still wasn’t getting any easier.

“Geoffrey, put that block down,” cried Georgeanne for the fourth time that morning.  And just like the other times, the four year old terror paid absolutely no attention to her, but hurled the wooden cube across the room to where his younger sister, who was softly crying for no apparent reason, sat amid a variety of toys, scattered in front of an enormous, white wicker toy chest.  Fortunately, Geoffrey’s aim was poor. 

Wiping one hand across her brow, Georgeanne reflected on how almost every waking hour had been one skirmish after another with the obnoxious brat, trying to prevent him from teasing his older sisters or bullying the younger ones.

She hurried to the other side of the schoolroom to pick up Claire, a chubby dark haired toddler, and murmured soothing words to quiet her.  Once that was accomplished, she settled the sniffling child back on the floor again with several rag dolls and turned to check on the five year old, Annie, where she played contentedly at a small table, occupied with her paper dolls. 

Just in time, Georgeanne saw the devilish Geoffrey coming up behind his sister. 

“No, Geoffrey,” she called out, as she raced across the room.  He was too quick for her, however, and had snatched the flimsy figures from Annie’s pudgy little hands and began ripping them into shreds.

Georgeanne grabbed the squat, little demon by the scruff of his collar and dragged him, squirming and screaming, over to a three-legged stool in one corner of the room.   “Now sit,” she commanded, but he continued to fight her.  Consequently, she shoved
him none too gently down on the stool and knelt down to be more on eye level with him.  “If you don’t stay put, young man, I am going to spank you,” she threatened, very close to the edge of her patience.

“Can’t spank me,” he shouted back at her defiantly.

“Oh yes, I can,” countered Georgeanne almost gleefully.  “I am bigger than you.”

“Don’t matter.  Mama said you can’t,”
said the little boy with malicious satisfaction.

Rather than argue, Georgeanne rose and gave him a derisive look.  “Stay there,” she ordered one last time before turning toward the long planked table on the other side of the room where the two older girls sat with their heads together.  They were busy using their fingers to add the figures written on a slate.