His Unusual Governess (16 page)

‘And you, miss, see far too much—or imagine that you do,’ Rupert said and smiled. ‘Run along and try not to worry overly. I am sure she will recover. Sarah is far too strong to die over a little thing like this.’

Francesca nodded and left him, walking quickly from the room. His expression hardened after she left. He wished he was as confident as he’d made out to Francesca.

If Sarah should die or become a permanent invalid because of this, he would kill the man who shot her if it took him the rest of his life to find the devil! And to hell with the law. What would his life be to him if she were dead? When the rogue was caught he would wish he had never been born!

Sarah moaned and opened her eyes. The room was lit by one small candle and she was aware of someone sitting by her bed in the semi-darkness.

‘Mother …’ she whimpered. ‘Mother …’ She could feel the dampness on her cheeks and was aware of both the pain in her left shoulder and her heart. ‘I was walking and …’

‘It’s all right, Sarah, I am here,’ Francesca
said and came to the bed. ‘Rupert told me I should leave your nursing to the maids, but I sent Agnes to bed and said I would sit with you for an hour. She was falling asleep when I came in and I didn’t trust her to look after you. Mrs Brancaster will be here soon. Are you in terrible pain?’

‘My shoulder hurts,’ Sarah said. ‘You should go to bed, Francesca. Rupert was right. There are plenty of maids to nurse me. It is not fitting that you should wait on me.’

‘Would you like a drink? Or some of the mixture the doctor left for you?’ Francesca placed a hand on her forehead. ‘You do not seem to have taken a fever. I think that is what has been worrying them all. The doctor said it was just the laudanum that made you sleep so long, but everyone has been so anxious. All our guests have been asking after you—especially Sir Freddie and Lord Phillips.’

‘How very kind,’ Sarah said and reached for her hand. ‘How long is it since I was shot?’

‘Yesterday morning. You fainted and then the doctor gave you a strong dose of the medicine—and you have been given more since so that you did not feel too much pain.’

‘Has anything happened? Have you heard anything?’

‘Rupert has the keepers out looking for strangers.
Monsieur Dupree found you and the description he gave of your attacker was the same as John’s, when he described the rogue who fired at us when we were out riding. This time he met with more success. Rupert is furious. He has taken on more keepers and has them patrolling the grounds at all hours.’

‘Oh, no, what a nuisance for him,’ Sarah said, pushing herself up against the pillows. The movement was tentative, because her shoulder hurt rather a lot and she did not wish to make it worse, but the room seemed stuffy and her mouth was dry. ‘Do you think I could have some water, please?’

‘Of course.’ Francesca went over to the wash-stand and poured some of the cold water into a glass, bringing it to her. ‘Would you like me to hold it for you, dearest?’

‘I think I can manage.’ Sarah took the glass, sipped and swallowed a few times and then handed it back, groaning a little as she felt the ache start up again.

‘You are in pain. Shall I get you something to ease it?’

‘If you mean laudanum, no, thank you. I would rather put up with this than become addicted to that stuff. I know Mama was taking too much towards the end …’ Sarah caught her breath as a far worse pain struck her. ‘Francesca …’
She reached out to touch the girl’s hand. ‘If you should hear something about me—something unpleasant—you will not hate me. Believe me, I did not know. I should never have come here had I known the truth, if it is the truth … .’ She shook her head. ‘I’m not rambling. There is something I must tell you all, but I think I should tell Rupert first. Depending on his advice … I may have to leave you …’

‘Rupert said something …’ Francesca faltered. ‘I don’t want you to leave me, Sarah. Rupert said you might have to travel abroad for a while for your own sake. Would you not let me accompany you? I don’t care about a silly Season. I dare say we should meet lots of gentlemen I might like.’

‘Oh, my love—did he truly say that to you?’ Sarah felt a pain stab at her heart. So Sir Roger had already carried out his threat to betray her terrible secret to the world. It meant that all her plans for the spring would have to be forgotten. At home, Sarah would not care that people thought ill of her, but she could not have her shame blight Francesca’s future. That would be selfish and unkind—though leaving her would be like losing the sister she’d never had. ‘What else did he say?’

‘He said he would thrash the devil that had hurt you if he caught him and … he said that I
must be polite to Sir Roger despite what he did and he would deal with the matter. I don’t even want to speak to him.’ Francesca’s expression was indignant. ‘I hate him for hurting you.’

Any doubt that Sir Roger had begun to spread the word of her lowly birth was crushed. Francesca had dismissed it, of course, as Sarah had known she would; the affection between them was too strong. She was not quite sure what was in Rupert’s mind—oh, he had asked her to call him that, but that was before he knew her secret.

What would he make of her now? He could not allow the plans for Sarah to be Francesca’s chaperon to go ahead in town the following spring. He had a duty to the girl and so did Sarah. Francesca must be protected from scandal at all costs.

‘I think I shall sleep now,’ Sarah said, though it was far from the truth. ‘Go to bed and rest, Francesca. I do not need to be watched now. I am out of danger.’

‘I am so glad. I should have been devastated had you come to harm. I do truly love you, Sarah.’

‘I love you, too, as if you were my sister. If I must leave you, it will be with a heavy heart—but I shall always write to you, until you tell me to stop, and perhaps we may meet again one day.’

‘Yes, of course we shall. You are my friend. We shall be together sometime when this stupid business is over.’

‘Yes. Kiss me, dearest, and then leave me to sleep.’

Francesca bent and kissed her cheek, then went softly from the room. Sarah lay back against her pillows, the tears running unheeded down her cheeks. She was hardly aware of them.

It hurt so much to know that her darling mama was not her true mother. She had loved her so much, been so happy and secure in the knowledge that she was Sarah Hardcastle’s daughter, proud to carry her name. Now she knew that it was not true. The shocking revelation was hard enough for her to bear, but it must not be allowed to reflect on Francesca—or on Rupert.

He was a man and might take the news in his stride. He might find a way to hush the scandal up and deflect the mud that would inevitably be thrown at them, but Sarah could imagine the whispers.

‘I did wonder at her living there with him … a confirmed rake … with no proper chaperon.’

‘Well, my dear, you know how these things are. She is no better than her mother … blood will out.’

Everyone would think she’d been Lord Myers’s mistress while sharing a roof with Francesca. She’d come there under false pretences and if that got out her fate would be sealed. If she dared to visit London with the girl, she would be shunned, ostracised by the proud hostesses who ruled society. Francesca’s chances would be ruined. She might find a man who would love her enough to marry her, but her Season would be overshadowed by the scandal.

No, try as she might, Sarah could see no way she could carry out her promise. Indeed, the longer she stayed here, the worse it would be. If she could raise the energy she would dress, pack a small bag and leave now. Her things could be sent on later. She tried putting her legs over the side of the bed and immediately felt dizzy. Her departure must wait for another day. If Sir Roger had spread his lies, the damage was already done. She would go as soon as she was able to dress herself. In the meantime, she would write to her uncle and ask him to confirm or deny the truth of her birth, but she had little hope that the story was a lie. Why should anyone invent such a pitiful tale?

Lying back against her pillows, Sarah tried to make sense of what she had been told. Her father was a hard man in business, but she had
always thought him decent. Would he really have paid a whore to have his child and then refused to allow her to see her child when she was dying?

That poor woman! What must she have suffered? For the first time Sarah thought properly about the woman who had given her birth. Even if she were a whore, forced to make her living on her back, that did not make her a bad person. Sarah had no means of knowing her story. Suddenly, she knew that it was important to her to know the truth. Her birth mother’s blood flowed in Sarah’s veins and even though society might reject her because of it, her mother had loved her enough to want to see her when she knew she was dying.

If only she had not died. Sarah would have sought her out, found a home for her and got to know the poor lady. Tears trickled down her cheeks again. She dashed them away. She was turning into a watering pot. One thing remained constant. She was her father’s daughter and strong enough to overcome this hurt and the scandal. If Sir Roger imagined she would spend the rest of her life in hibernation, he was wrong. Her friends at home would not desert her simply because she was not her mother’s daughter—but whatever happened she must know the truth.

Sarah was feeling much better the next morning. She managed to wash herself without help and to brush her hair, but was still a little unsteady on her feet. However, the maids had been very kind, bringing her books as well as all manner of treats that Mrs Brancaster had prepared for her.

‘It is so kind of Mrs Brancaster to spoil me this way. Thank her for it, Agnes. I know she is very busy with the guests.’

‘We’re all concerned for you, miss. Lord Myers is looking for the wicked villain wot done this—and I wouldn’t like to be in his shoes when they catches him.’

‘I was wondering whether Lord Myers had time to see me,’ Sarah said, holding her sigh inside. She’d had no reason to expect him to visit her room, but she missed him—which was very silly. In a couple of days she would be on her way home and he would forget her as the unusual governess he had for a short time been tempted to seduce.

‘I don’t know, miss. I could pass the message on, but he’s been out riding most days—what with searching for that rogue and entertaining the guests. I should think he’s too busy. ‘Sides, it wouldn’t be proper, miss. Him being a single gentleman and you a lady and not married. He
did carry you up here, mind. Told us all that we had to look after you or he’d want to know the reason why.’

‘Well, that was kind of him.’ Sarah’s heart eased a little, but she still longed to see Rupert, just for a moment. Surely he could not imagine her reputation mattered now? She had none left to speak of. He had not bothered to visit her and that must mean he did not wish to speak to her alone—perhaps he was afraid she would weep all over him and beg him to help her. ‘Thank you, Agnes. I have all I need.’

But she didn’t, of course. She wanted to be her mother’s daughter and she wanted to be loved, passionately without reserve.

Sarah faced the truth. She loved a man who was far beyond her in station. He might have considered having an affair with her when he thought her a respectable governess, but now he was not even interested in making her his mistress.

She refused to cry. Sarah was feeling much better. In the morning she would get up and go downstairs. She would request that a post-chaise be sent for and then she would come back to her room, pack a bag, write a letter of farewell to Rupert and another to Francesca and perhaps also one to John. Then she would leave Cavendish Park.

‘M
y lord, a moment if you will …’ Mrs Brancaster stopped Rupert as he came in from another wasted ride. For days sightings of strangers had been coming in and he’d investigated them all, but so far there was no sign of the rogue that had shot Sarah. He was beginning to think the fellow had left the district, as he would be well advised to do. He was but a pawn in the game anyway; the problem was—who had paid him to kill Sarah? Rupert would give a fortune to know.

‘Yes …’ He was aware that he sounded impatient. ‘What may I do for you?’

‘Miss Hardcastle wondered if you could spare her a few moments, sir?’

Rupert frowned. He had visited Sarah’s room
twice when she’d first been ill, but had made himself leave her to the care of the servants for the sake of her reputation. Lady Rowton had a vicious tongue and the merest hint of scandal would have given her some ammunition to use against Sarah. He’d already heard her wondering aloud why someone would wish to shoot Miss Hardcastle and her tone had implied criticism of Sarah. Mindful of the damage a woman like that could do, he’d curbed his feelings and contented himself with almost hourly updates on her condition. Fortunately, the woman was due to leave the next day. After that he would be able to let down his guard a little—and he’d made a decision to call off the hunt for the rogue and set a couple of Bow Street Runners on the case. It would mean a trip to London, but he had other business and on his return Sarah would be well enough for him to discuss the business that was burning at the back of his mind.

‘You will please ask Miss Hardcastle to forgive me,’ he said. ‘Convey my sincere apologies, please. Tell her I am delighted she is so much better and say that my duties as a host have kept me from visiting her. I shall make it a priority tomorrow.’

‘Yes, my lord—only she did seem anxious to talk to you.’

Rupert hesitated. Ought he to cast convention to the winds and follow his inclinations? No, that would be foolish. Such a thoughtless act on his part might result in Sarah being compromised. He would not wish her to be forced to accept him as a husband simply because she would otherwise lose her good name.

‘I dare say another few hours will not matter. You did have the roses I asked for sent to her room?’

‘Yes, my lord. She said they were beautiful.’

Rupert nodded. ‘Please excuse me. I have planned an excursion for our visitors’ last day. We are to take a picnic and visit the Abbey ruins this afternoon. I really must change or I shall keep everyone waiting.’

It had been such a long day. Francesca had popped in for a while during the morning. She’d told Sarah that Rupert was out riding.

‘He goes out most mornings,’ she said. ‘This afternoon we’re going to the ruins of an Abbey. It’s about ten miles from here and they say it’s haunted.’ She laughed. ‘I do so wish you could come with us.’

‘I am sorry to have missed the treat. I dare say I shall feel better soon.’

‘I just think things are more fun when you’re there.’
‘Are you not enjoying your guests? Is there no one amongst them that you feel attracted to?’

‘I like Miss Rowton, though not her mama very much. I like Mr James Monks, but he hasn’t visited for a couple of days. I believe Sir Roger has gone home—good riddance to him. I suppose I like Sir Freddie as much as anyone. He makes me laugh.’

‘Yes, he is amusing,’ Sarah agreed. ‘I liked him. He was kind enough to send me a new novel he purchased by Mrs Burney.’

‘Yes, he told me he thought you might like it.’ Francesca’s cheeks flushed. ‘I can’t quite decide … but, no, I shouldn’t say. He hasn’t shown any preference; indeed, I think he likes you more than me.’

‘Are we speaking of Sir Freddie or Mr Monks?’

‘Sir Freddie. I like him very well, Sarah—but Mr Monks is so flattering. He says I’m beautiful and that his heart stops when he sees me. He compared me to a rose in a poem.’

‘Did he, indeed? I wonder if it was one of Mr Shakespeare’s sonnets?’

‘Well, I did think he might have borrowed pieces of it from someone else.’ Francesca giggled. ‘Some gentlemen say foolish things just to amuse one, do they not?’

‘They do indeed.’ Sarah’s brow wrinkled.
‘Are your feelings for either of the gentlemen likely to be serious?’

‘I’m not sure. They might be for one …’ Francesca shook her head. ‘No, I am foolish. It is much too soon. I should not imagine myself in love with anyone. Love takes time to grow, does it not?’

‘Yes, perhaps,’ Sarah said, though she was not sure of the truth. Perhaps sometimes love came suddenly like a blinding light.

‘I suppose I must go down and mingle,’ Francesca said and kissed her cheek. ‘I shall tell you all about it when I return.’

Sarah had smiled and nodded. She’d hoped for a visit from Rupert, but supposed that he was with his guests. Unfortunately, Mrs Brancaster came up later to tell her that he had sent a message to say he was too busy and would see her the next day.

‘Yes, of course, it does not matter,’ she said, swallowing her disappointment. She was the last thing on his mind, of course. ‘Tomorrow I’ll be fine.’

Rising, she went over to her desk and wrote the letters she needed to write. She was much better now and the sooner she began to make her preparations, the better.

To Rupert she wrote a brief note.

Satisfied that she could do no better, she wrote a brief note to John and enclosed five guineas for him as spending money when he went to his college at Christmas.

Her letters written, Sarah packed a small bag. She placed a few of her more personal items in it and left the rest to be sent on to her home. Mrs Brancaster would see to her trunks for her and she would take her leave of her in the morning, quite early.

Even the small amount of movement involved in packing a bag had aggravated her shoulder and made her feel tired. She decided to lie down and was soon sleeping.

Sarah was awakened by the sound of loud voices and footsteps outside her room. The next moment the door was flung open and Lord Myers entered, looking wild and angry. She pushed herself up against the pillows and met his furious gaze, wondering what on earth had caused him to burst in on her this way.

‘My lord—is something the matter?’

‘Where is she?’ he demanded. ‘I know she tells you everything. Is that what you wanted to tell me this morning? Why the hell did you not say it was urgent?’

‘Because it was not,’ Sarah said and frowned. ‘Are you speaking of Francesca? What is wrong?’

‘She has run off with that Monks fellow—eloped. I blame you for encouraging her.’

‘No, she has not run away with anyone,’ Sarah said, ignoring his last remark. ‘Please tell me exactly what happened?’

‘You sound very sure.’ He glared at her. ‘She told us she was going for a little walk to the other side of the ruins. Miss Rowton went with her. She says that they were looking at a particularly fine wild rose, which had grown through the fallen stones. Francesca had wandered a little apart from her when Mr Monks came up to her. They spoke urgently. Francesca hesitated and then went off with him. They got into a chaise and drove off at speed. Now tell me she has not run away.’

‘I have no idea where she went, but I imagine she was tricked,’ Sarah said. ‘Francesca spoke about her feelings this morning and I am quite certain she would not have chosen to run away—with Mr Monks at least.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I think she loves someone else. She is not sure that he cares for her and Monks has been flattering her, but she would not have gone off with him.’

‘Who does she imagine herself in love with?’

‘I’m not sure I should say.’

‘I need to know. This is important—it isn’t that scoundrel Sir Roger?’

‘Good gracious, no. She dislikes him. You must not breathe a word—but I rather think she hoped for an offer from Sir Freddie.’

‘Good grief.’ Rupert looked stunned. ‘I had no idea. He’s perfectly suitable if he would offer for her—but why did she go with Monks? Miss Rowton said she was not abducted.’

‘Do you not think she may have been tricked?’

‘Tricked …’ Rupert’s expression grew darker. ‘He made her think something was wrong … good grief! Do you suppose he told her you had been taken for the worse? She would have gone with him then without a thought for herself.’

‘Oh, no, I do hope it was not that.’ Sarah was stricken. ‘Yes, I believe you may be right. How wicked he is—but why would he do such a thing?’

‘Monks is deep in debt. Sir Freddie warned me of it the other day, felt I should be on my guard. No doubt the scoundrel knew his chances of getting her to marry him were nil so
he decided to snatch her, but did so by a trick rather than risk her screaming and bringing me down on him.’

‘You must find her, Rupert,’ Sarah said, jumping up from the bed. ‘If you are quick all may not be lost. If you wish, I will pretend to be ill and you can say that she came here to me—but you must go now, without delay.’

‘I have already lost time. I thought you would know.’

‘Believe that she has not gone willingly.’

‘I’ll kill him,’ Rupert growled. ‘If he touches her, I’ll tear him limb from limb.’

‘Go quickly, please. I shall remain in my room in case we need the excuse, but I shall be anxious.’

Rupert turned, saw the letters she’d written on the desk and picked up the one addressed to him. He turned to her, accusation in his eyes.

‘What is this?’ Without waiting for an answer he broke the seal and scanned it. ‘Damn you, Sarah! Were you planning to leave without a word? What scandal is Grey supposed to have revealed to me?’

‘He has not done so?’ For a moment relief flooded through her, but she knew it was a mere respite. If Sir Roger had not yet spoken, he was waiting for the right moment.

‘He has threatened to ruin me by revealing
a scandal I knew nothing of—something from my mother’s past,’ she said, unable to meet his eyes. ‘Please, do not bother with this now. Francesca needs you. I give you my word I shall not go until she is safe back where she belongs. I am not worthy of your notice. Francesca is all that matters here.’

‘For the moment that is true,’ he said. ‘But if you break your word I shall hunt you down and you will be sorry. Have the decency to tell me when you are ready to leave and I shall arrange for you to be taken wherever you wish to go.’

‘Yes, thank you. I could not bear to leave now while Francesca is in such danger. I pray you are in time.’

‘Amen to that,’ he said and was gone. She heard him shouting at one of the footmen and she went to the window in time to see him leave the house. As she watched, another gentleman went out to him. They spoke for a moment and then went off toward the stables together.

Sir Freddie must have offered his help. Sarah felt a choking sensation in her throat. It seemed as if that kind gentleman cared enough to join in the search. She could only hope that the two of them would be able to catch up with Mr Monks and stop him carrying out his wicked plan to force Francesca to marry him because she was compromised.

All her thoughts now were for the girl she loved, the scandal that had threatened her forgotten as she felt fear for Francesca.

She regretted the impulse that had made her write the letters. Crossing to the desk, she tore Francesca’s into little shreds. The situation was changed. Francesca would need her now and her own reputation might be stained beyond redemption.

Rupert would not allow her to marry that odious rogue, would he? She knew that marriages had been forced on an unwilling girl for less, but surely he would not condemn her to a marriage that could never give her happiness?

She supposed that Mr Monks believed Francesca would inherit a small fortune from her grandfather and that might well be the case. He had other relatives, of course, but John and Francesca were the children of his only daughter and must surely be his favourites. It was the reason she had been abducted of course.

Sarah was anxious for the girl she loved. Rupert’s fury on discovering her letter would have had her shaking in her shoes at another time, but for now she could only worry about Francesca. Where had Monks taken her—and what was she doing now? She must have been so frightened when she discovered that she’d been abducted… .

‘I demand that you take me home,’ Francesca said, raising her head in a way she imagined Sarah would approve. She had been told about men like this and if he thought she was going to weep all over him and beg him to marry her, he was wrong. ‘You lied to me. I thought I liked you. I might even had agreed to marry you, had you asked—but to tell me Sarah was dying and then to drive off with me to goodness knows where is outrageous! I shall not marry you now if you keep me here for a month.’

James Monks glared at her. ‘Damn you, Fran, I thought you would find it amusing to be abducted. Sir Roger put me up to it. He was thinking of abducting Miss Hardcastle, but then he asked her instead and what she said … well, he gave up. Told me she wasn’t worth the effort and he would find another heiress. He mentioned you and I told him he’d have you over my dead body. Why won’t you let me take you to Gretna? I know you’d like me if you gave me a chance.’