Charlotte Louise Dolan (3 page)

Lady Gloriana’s height was the least of her problems. Her posture was deplorable in the extreme, her complexion was spotty, her lank brown hair did not deserve mention, and in the appalling frock Mrs. Pierce-Smythe had forced her into, she had no more shape than a bag of flour tied around the middle. Without looking up, the girl mumbled her greetings.

“Now that we are all here, let us go in to dinner. My dear Mr. Pierce-Smythe, if you will escort our guest, the girls and I shall be pleased to follow.”

What to do, what to do? Lady Letitia’s situation, instead of improving, became steadily worse. As the evening progressed it became clear to her that Mr. Pierce-Smythe considered the intellect of females only slightly greater than that of cabbages, and the education Lady Gloriana had apparently so far received fitted her for nothing other than staring blankly into space and eating chocolates, her present occupation.

It was only during the fourth course, when her host was expounding on the deleterious effects for females of the slightest physical exertion, that an image arose in Lady Letitia’s mind—the image of a woman whose idea of a little walk to settle one’s meal was a brisk fifteen-mile hike done in double-time.

She paused to consider. Lady Sidonia was dear Edward’s first cousin, which would make her Lady Gloriana’s great-aunt. Perfect. A bit eccentric, Sidie was exactly what the poor overgrown girl needed to recover from the harm caused by ten years of being exposed to the Pierce-Smythes.

There would, of course, be no problem with persuading the Pierce-Smythes that Lady Sidonia had more need of her grand-niece’s company than they did.

But how to convince Sidie to bother herself with the chit when she had no experience with raising children of her own? Nor any interest in the younger generation. In fact, Sidie had once expressed a strong aversion to having anything to do with anyone under the age of twenty, and even that she allowed was frequently still a bit too young.

All in all, if ‘twere done, ‘twere best done without warning, Lady Letitia decided. I shall simply write a letter and send it along with the child. Martinet though she can be, dear Sidie will surely not be so hard-hearted as to send back her own flesh and blood. Especially not when I describe to her Mr. Pierce-Smythe’s views on the type of education suitable for females.

* * * *

... and my dear, then he said that reading history was known to cause softening of the brain in females, and it were best if such complicated subjects were left strictly to men, who are better able to understand the politics involved.

Lady Sidonia skimmed the rest of the letter, then glanced up at the girl standing forlornly in front of her.

Well, the bones were good, or would be if they were not buried under a layer of puppy fat. Whether the mind was still functional after years of disuse was another question. Looking down at the letter again, she re-read the last sentence. “If you can take care of her until she is eighteen, then I will see to finding her a husband.”

A husband, bah! Husbands were totally unnecessary encumbrances. “Preposterous,” she muttered out loud.

“‘Tis not my fault.” The girl in front of her wiped her eyes with a sleeve that had apparently served her quite some time as a handkerchief. “It truly is not.”

Lady Sidonia rose to her feet. “Stand up straight, gel, shoulders back. Let us have a look at you.”

Her eyes still downcast, the girl made a half-hearted attempt to square her shoulders, then slowly her gaze traveled from Lady Sidonia’s stout boots up past her black split riding skirt, up, up, until she was eyeball to eyeball with the older woman.

“But ... but you are as tall as I am!” she cried with the first show of spirit Lady Sidonia had yet seen in her.

“Of course I am.  We get it from my mother, your great-grandmother. Anne Newbold she was. Almost caught herself a king, she did, although I never could see why she should have wanted a dunderhead like him. Aye, you have got her height, but we have yet to see if you have also inherited any of her wit or gumption.”

May 1806

“I believe there has been some mistake. I do not accept temporary positions.” Miss Anne Hemsworth, a most highly recommended governess, rose majestically to her feet and looked down at her would-be employer.

He was a short man, though he did his best to disguise the fact by wearing shoes with extremely high heels. Dressed as he was in a deep plum jacket, which was padded at the shoulders and nipped in at the waist, and biscuit-colored unmentionables, his lilac waistcoat would have been unexceptional were it not for mother-of-pearl buttons of extraordinary size. They and his collar, which was too high to permit the turning of his head, proclaimed him a dandy.

His unlined face gave the impression of youth, and on first making his acquaintance, Anne had thought him to be only slightly older than her own seven and twenty years. But upon closer inspection, a certain sagging about the jowls led her to believe he was already on the shady side of forty.

Now, however, frown lines wrinkled his forehead. “But—but, do please reconsider. It is an excellent offer I am making you.”

He reached for her arm to detain her, but she avoided his hand and turned to leave. The little man scurried after her, reminding her of a toy poodle being dragged along on a leash. Not that she had anything against poodles, except, of course, those of the breed that had a tendency to yap constantly.

Her tolerance for lapdogs did not extend, however, to short men who seemed unable to raise their eyes above the level of her bosom.

“But you would be passing up the opportunity to work in the household of a marquess. Only do think how it would raise your consequence to have a reference from an actual marquess.” Added to his propensity to rub his hands surreptitiously on his unmentionables every time he looked at her, this was the last straw. Having spent the first fifteen years of her life trading on the fact that she was Lady Gloriana Marybell Dorinda Elizabeth Hemsworth, the daughter of the earl of Faussley, and having spent the last twelve learning to stand on her own two feet, Anne was not at all in doubt as to which was more rewarding. She knew better than most people how little real value a title carried.

Pausing at the door of the hotel parlor where the interview was being conducted, she turned to face Mr. Trussell. “I have no need of references from a ten-year-old marquess. My reputation is already such that I am able to pick and choose where I will.” Surveying him impassively from top to bottom, she concluded, “And I do not choose to be in your employ.” Deliberately throwing back her shoulders, which only made his eyes goggle all the more, she turned and sailed majestically through the doorway.

* * * *

Mrs. Dorothy Wiggins, for the last twenty-one years part owner and sole manager of one of London’s most elite employment agencies, sat at her wide oak desk and listened to Anne describe the abortive interview she had just terminated.

Really, Lady Letitia had been mistaken in her belief that it would be an easy matter to maneuver Anne into taking the position in Devon. But as difficult as it might be, Dorothy was in full agreement with her friend and partner that allowing Anne to waste her life as a governess, to live and die a spinster, was a crime against nature. It was therefore up to Dorothy to convince Anne to accept this temporary position in Devon, even though Lady Letitia was keeping her own counsel as to who the prospective bridegroom was.

“It is all very well and good to know one’s worth, but before one can pick and choose, one must have more than one job to pick and choose among,” Mrs. Wiggins pointed out. “And in the autumn, of course, there will undoubtedly be an abundance of positions open. But with summer upon us, it is not the best time of the year to be between positions.” If one discounted, of course, the two ladies who had specifically requested that they be notified the moment Anne became free to accept a new position.

“Be that as it may, I am not the slightest bit inclined to be in the employ of that little worm of a man.”

“My dear, Mr. Creighton Trussell is most highly esteemed and a perfect gentleman. I should not describe him in such slighting terms if I were you.”

“If he had slavered over your hand and drooled every time he gawked at your bosom, you would think it a mild enough description.”

“Surely by this time you have accustomed yourself to attracting attention. You cannot blame the poor man for taking one look at you and becoming completely besotted.”

“Besotted? Is that what you call it when a man is so lost to propriety as to stare rudely at a woman’s chest?”

“Of course. This may come as a shock to you, my dear Anne, but your singular height is not the only reason men’s heads turn when you walk down the street. Indeed, I would say it is not even one of the principle reasons. Even dressed as a governess, you are quite beautiful, and you need not point out that you are not at all in the mode. This Season’s ideal of beauty may be a little china doll dressed in ribbons and flounces, but that will not stop men from appreciating your flawless skin—”

“Which only makes me look healthy, rather than interesting—”

“And your thick, glossy hair—”

“With its unruly curls. Really, Mrs. Wiggins, you are making me sound like a horse you are trying to fob off on some unsuspecting gapeseed. Next you will be trying to convince me that I am virtually a pocket Venus, when you know very well I am everywhere oversized.”

“Not really oversized, my dear. I have seldom seen anyone with a more perfectly proportioned figure.”

“If one is interested in the overlarge, the overabundent, the over—”

Mrs. Wiggins held up one hand. “Enough! I shall refrain from trying to cure you of your blindness where your own looks are concerned. But I am not ready to let you throw aside a perfectly good position because you have taken a dislike to your prospective employer. To begin with, may I point out that you would not actually be working for Mr. Trussell, but rather for Lord Leatham, the twins’ legal guardian?”

“Who is safely out of reach in Turkey or Afghanistan or some such heathen place, which leaves the day-to-day management of Wylington Manor in the hands of that incompetent, sniveling little—”

“Exactly! The situation positively cries out for the attention of a sensible woman such as yourself.”

Anne burst out laughing. “What you mean to say is that I am that worst of all creatures, a managing female. And having never been to Wylington Manor, how would you know how well or how poorly it is run?”

“Well, to begin with, I have sent six—no seven—governesses all the way down there to Devon in the last four months. The most capable lasted a bare fortnight, and their comments when they bolted back to London ranged from ‘heathen savages’ to ... let me see.” She flipped through several papers on her desk. “To ‘hell-born brats’ and ‘spawns of the Devil.’ And their descriptions of the living conditions were every bit as bad. You see, it is a situation positively demanding your abilities.”

“The one flaw being that in September the twins will be packed off to Harrow,”

“Would you not enjoy a summer by the sea?” Mrs. Wiggins did her best to make her voice sound beguiling.

“Wylington Manor lies in the middle of Dartmoor, some fifteen miles from the coast,” Anne corrected her friend. “I had rather spend the summer visiting my great-aunt, who is getting on in years, and who writes that she misses me.”

“Lady Sidonia is healthy as a horse and will likely see us all in our graves, so do not try to gull me. And you know perfectly well that after three days in one another’s company you are both at daggers drawn.”

“Nonsense, we could not be more alike in our way of thinking.”

“Exactly. I have never yet known a household with room for two managing females.”

“
Touché
.”

“Besides, Mr. Trussell has offered you a full year’s salary for only three months’ work.”

“I am not that hard up for money.”

Anne was now smiling at her, which Dorothy hoped was a sign the younger woman was weakening.

“You might also consider this. Although Miss Alice Featherton, who was married off last week to young Mr. Claymore, was in all ways a shining example of your ability as a governess, you must admit that she was not the least bit of a challenge. Virtually any of the governesses who are handled by this agency could have turned her out in a creditable manner, so sweet and compliant as she is. On the other hand, if you take this job in Devon, you will be taking on a considerable challenge. Moreover, it is a challenge others have tried and failed to meet—
and
,”
she added, without giving Anne a chance for a rebuttal, “I seem to recall that you have a partiality for clotted cream. Need I remind you that strawberries are just coming into season?”

“Unfair tactics, Mrs. Wiggins.” Anne could no longer hold back her laughter. “Very well, I shall let you pack me off to Devon, but if I come back at the end of the summer as fat as a Christmas goose, it will all be on your shoulders.”

She stood up, but did not immediately leave. “Tell me, my dear Mrs. Wiggins, now that you have persuaded me to go against my better judgment, do you know if any of the other governesses are in London at the moment? The ones who did not find clotted cream adequate compensation for living at Wylington Manor?”

“Why, yes. Miss Jennings has accepted a position as companion to Lady d’Auberville, and I believe they have not yet departed for Bath. But why do you ask?”

“As my great-aunt Sidonia used to say, ‘A general is only as good as his spies.’ I intend to know as many details about those two boys and their tricks as possible before I match wits with them.”

Watching her depart, Mrs. Wiggins speculated on the man Lady Letitia had picked to win the hand of Lady Anne. That it could not be Mr. Trussell was obvious. On the other hand, as Anne had mentioned in passing, Lord Leatham was never in England long enough to pursue even a lightning courtship. The only other eligible bachelor in the vicinity of Wylington Manor was Lord Thorverton, and he was already engaged to be married.