His Unusual Governess (7 page)

Sarah’s cheeks were warm. She kept her back towards him as she looked beneath the silver covers and chose from scrambled eggs, kedgeree, devilled kidneys and bacon, making her choice before returning to the table.

‘I did not wish to make more work for the maids by having my breakfast brought up. Mrs Brancaster thought it would be suitable for me to take my meals here since you invited me to dine last evening.’

‘Why make more work for the servants? I’ve told John and Francesca that they may join us for all meals. We are a small family, Miss Goodrum, so why not make the most of each other’s company?’

‘It seems ridiculous to have meals taken to the nursery when we do not intend to spend much time there.’

‘Exactly. Others may find the practice unconventional, but I can see no reason why the children of the family should not join their parents—unless they are ill-behaved and would annoy the guests.’

‘We have no guests… .’

‘How perceptive of you, Miss Goodrum,’ he said and there was a gleam of mockery in his eyes.

‘Do you enjoy mocking everything and everyone?’

‘If one could not laugh at the world it would be a dull place, do you not agree?’

‘Yes, perhaps.’ Sarah’s mouth was unaccountably smiling despite her determination to keep her distance. ‘Do you intend on inviting guests to stay?’

If he did so she would need to change her arrangements, for guests would not expect to see the governess at every meal.

‘We may have that picnic John was so keen on and we shall encourage people to visit for tea—but I think no house guests at the moment. Unless my uncle decides to visit; he might come down at any time, of course.’

‘You were not thinking of holding a dinner?’

‘Not for the moment. Unless, as I said, my uncle decides to visit his grandchildren. He told me he has no intention of it until Christmas, but he might change his mind.’

‘Yes, I can see that would change things.’ Sarah swallowed a little scrambled egg and a piece of kidney. She touched the napkin to her mouth and glanced at him. ‘Would it be rude
of me to ask why a gentleman like you would agree to be John’s mentor for six months? I should have thought you might prefer to be in town—or have business at your own estate.’

‘Should you?’ His brows rose. ‘I see no reason why I should answer your question, but I shall tell you that my estate is within a day’s ride should I need to visit it—and I do have agents and managers to run it for me.’

‘Yes, of course, but there is always some little detail needing attention, do you not find? Things that only you can decide …’ Sarah dipped her head as his eyes narrowed in suspicion. ‘My father always said he could not leave his business for long …’

‘I thought you said he was a mine manager?’

‘Yes, he was,’ Sarah agreed. ‘He was always very busy and had little time for his family. Especially after my mother died.’

‘Was that long ago?’

‘I was twelve at the time. I grew closer to my father and sometimes accompanied him on …’ She had been going to say journeys, for her father had travelled between the mine and the mills. ‘On his way to work,’ she finished lamely.

‘That was before you went to school?’

‘Yes, I had a governess. She did not approve of me spending so much time at the m … mine.’
Again she had been going to say mills and bit back her words. This was a dangerous subject and if she were not careful she would betray herself.

At that moment the door opened and both John and Francesca entered. After exchanging greetings with Sarah and Lord Myers, they went to the sideboard and began to choose from the various dishes. John was clearly impressed by the choice and spent some time filling his plate.

‘Can you eat all that?’ Sarah asked. ‘You must remember that we shall eat nuncheon later—unless we just have some fruit and biscuits? I thought we might ramble later this afternoon. We can collect wild flowers and stones, things that we can draw or make into a collection. If Lord Myers has no other plans?’

‘I couldn’t resist,’ John said honestly. ‘We never get all this in the nursery. I should like to go rambling if Rupert has nothing else planned.’

‘As a matter of fact, I had planned that we should start your fencing lessons after nuncheon. We shall spend an hour teaching you the first moves and then I had thought you might wish to play a ball game on the lawn. However, you may go walking after the fencing lesson if you prefer.’

‘No, I’d rather stay with you,’ John said and
attacked his food as if he had been starved for the past year.

‘Better slow down a bit,’ Lord Myers advised and John immediately sat back, chewing more thoroughly.

‘I’d like to play ball games,’ Francesca said. ‘I’d like to watch the fencing, too—but it may be best if I wait until John has learned a few moves. We could ramble for a while and then come back and join the others, couldn’t we, Sarah?’

‘Yes, of course,’ Sarah said and saw Lord Myers’s brows shoot up. ‘I told Francesca she might use my preferred name when we are alone, my lord.’

‘Indeed, Miss Goodrum?’ He looked at her through narrowed eyes. ‘I thought your name was Hester?’

Sarah felt her cheeks growing warm. ‘I never liked the name and my father had a pet name for me. It was my mother’s name also… .’

‘I see. Are we all allowed to call you by this … pet name? Or is it only for Francesca?’

‘In company I think it would be best if I remained Miss Goodrum. I leave the rest to your good sense, Lord Myers.’

‘Ah, I see.’ A gleam appeared in his eyes. ‘I shall give the matter my full attention, Miss Goodrum.’

Sarah felt her cheeks flame. Had they been alone she might have made a sharp retort, but decided to change the subject.

For the remainder of their meal, she addressed her remarks to John and Francesca and was relieved when Lord Myers got up and excused himself.

‘I have some estate business to attend to while I am here,’ he said. ‘I shall see you after nuncheon, John—and we shall play some kind of ball game on the lawns at about three this afternoon.’

Soon after he departed Sarah left the others to finish and went to the library. She had chosen the books they were to discuss by the time Francesca and John arrived. Having found a bestiary for John to peruse and some poetry books that she thought Francesca would like, she spent the next half an hour reading poetry. As she chose a poem that told of daring deeds and men’s lives laid down on the field of battle, she was not surprised that John paid full attention to her reading.

‘It was a brave thing Horatio did in laying down his life for the men he fought with, wasn’t it, miss?’ he said when she put down the book. ‘I think I should like to be a soldier and fight for honour and glory.’

‘Perhaps you will when you are older.’ Sarah smiled at him. ‘Now I am going to read a romantic poem for Francesca’s sake. You may wish to peruse your bestiary, John—but I should like you to write me a short piece about the battle scenes we just discussed in your own time. Can you do that for me?’

‘Yes, miss. May I write it as a story?’

‘If you wish. Yes, I think that would be an excellent idea.’ She opened her book and smiled at Francesca. ‘This is Colonel Lovelace’s letter to Lucasta on the eve of Battle. Although it has the same theme, it is romantic and I think you may enjoy it.’

She began to read, noticing that although John had opened his book, clearly disgusted at the idea of a sloppy romance, he soon began to listen to the poem and the others Sarah read to them.

‘For your essay I would like you to write about what romance is—and what you think Lucasta meant to Colonel Lovelace to make him write such a poem, Francesca.’

‘Oh, yes … it was so romantic,’ Francesca said and sighed. ‘Love is a wonderful thing, is it not? Have you ever been in love, Sarah?’

‘No, I haven’t. I loved my father, but I think being in love is very different.’

‘How does one know whether love is real?’

‘I am not sure—but I think when it happens one feels it in here.’ Sarah placed a hand over her heart. ‘If you think it is happening to you one day, you must give yourself time to be sure, Francesca—but I think you will know in your heart if it’s real.’

‘Men can let you down, though, can’t they? I heard about one of the servant girls …’ Francesca glanced at John, who appeared to have his nose firmly in his book. ‘Something happened to her and she was sent away in disgrace. I asked Mrs Brancaster why and she said a man had let poor Alice down. I wasn’t sure what she meant.’

‘Ah …’ Sarah swallowed hard. She hadn’t realised the girl was so innocent. ‘That is something we ought to discuss another day—perhaps in private.’

‘It meant she was having a baby and she wasn’t wed,’ John said, proving that his ears were still listening even if his nose was in the book. ‘Timothy the groom told me Alice wouldn’t say who the father was, but he thought—’

‘Yes, well, perhaps it is best if we do not speculate on such matters,’ Sarah said. She herself had learned from her old nurse where babies came from when she was sixteen and one of her father’s maids had also been dismissed
for having committed the terrible sin of lying with one of the grooms.

‘I sort of knew that,’ Francesca admitted. ‘But not why she was in trouble … I mean, what made her?’

Sarah’s cheeks were warm. ‘There are a few books on anatomy, which might explain how it works. However, making babies happens when a man and a woman make love—and that starts with kissing. There is more, which it would not be appropriate for us to discuss at the moment—but it is the reason your mama would have told you not to let men kiss you, if she were still here.’

‘Mrs Brancaster said something of the sort, but I didn’t understand her. If people are in love, why is it wrong to kiss and make babies?’

‘I dare say it is not wrong. In fact, it is perfectly right and natural—but society and the church say that it must only happen when the man and woman are married. That is why Mrs Brancaster said poor Alice had been let down by a man. He may not have wished to marry her after … afterwards.’

‘Then he was unkind and cruel,’ Francesca said. She frowned. ‘I think I should like to read those books on anatomy, please.’

‘I will find them for you.’ Sarah got up and went to the shelves. She ran her finger along
them and took out two, which after looking at the pictures, she judged to be matter-of-fact tomes, which dealt with such matters. She handed them to Francesca. ‘This explains how it happens and the workings of a woman’s—and a man’s—body but not why. If the attraction is there, feelings are aroused … but you should never give in to them before marriage. If you did so, you would lose your reputation and you would never find the kind of husband your family would wish you to have. Also, you would be shamed and many hostesses would not admit you to their drawing rooms.’

‘Yes, I see.’ Francesca put away the books along with with her poetry volumes just as the bell sounded for nuncheon. ‘I should go to my room first. Thank you, Sarah. I’ve learned more this morning than I did in all the time my last governess was here.’

‘But I saw some of the work you did with her. You can write quite well in French, Francesca, as well as being advanced in your Latin verbs.’

‘What good will such things do me in life?’ Francesca asked. ‘Someone told me gentlemen do not like clever girls. I need to know about love and having children.’

Sarah made no reply. The morning had proved more eventful than she’d intended and she was busy with her thoughts as she ran up to
her room to wash her hands. Both of her pupils had lively enquiring minds and it seemed they were thirsty for knowledge. She had answered their questions honestly, but she wasn’t sure that her teaching was exactly what their uncle might wish them to learn.

Nuncheon was a pleasant interlude. No one was particularly hungry and Sarah noticed that Francesca followed her lead and ate mostly fruit, drinking a pleasant cordial and eating some gooseberries that were deliciously ripe and stewed with a rich pastry crust and custard.

After the meal John departed with his mentor to begin his fencing lessons and Francesca took Sarah on a long ramble about the estate, showing her parts of it that she had not yet ventured to alone. As they walked, Sarah explained more of how babies were made and what she knew of love, which was, she admitted, very little.

‘I have felt tempted,’ she said when Francesca pressed for more. ‘But I knew it was wrong. I have been asked to marry, but as I had no feelings for the gentleman I refused. I should not want him to kiss me—or do any of the other things of that I have been told, but have no experience.’

‘I just wanted to know what Alice had done to be sent off like that,’ Francesca said. ‘It
doesn’t seem fair that she lost her job, but he—well, she wouldn’t tell anyone who it was.’

‘She was being loyal to him, but I think it a mistake. If he promised her marriage, he should have been made to wed her.’

‘But he might have lost his job, too. Mrs Brancaster said that the maids were not allowed followers.’

‘You can understand why. If they get into trouble, they have to leave and then the housekeeper has to train a new girl.’

‘Yes, I see that—but why not let her stay until she has the baby? Afterwards, she could work part of the time, couldn’t she?’

‘I dare say Mrs Brancaster is doing what she thinks right. You see, Alice had been immoral by her standards—and that is how most people see it.’

‘Do you not think it unfair?’

‘Well, yes, I do. However, one has to live by the rules, Francesca. If it had happened to a girl in my employ, I should have tried to help her—but she would still have had to leave, because of the example it sets to others.’

‘I still think it’s unfair,’ Francesca said. ‘I liked Alice and I cried when she left.’

‘Yes, I can see that it would upset you. I dare say Mrs Brancaster did not like to do it, but she might have lost her own job if she had neglected
her duty. Your grandfather would not have wished for a girl like that to continue in his service. It’s the way of the world and we shall not change it.’

‘Women can’t change anything, can they? Men rule our lives. If we have a fortune, our father or guardian controls it until we marry and then our husband takes over and it belongs to him.’