Nell (10 page)

‘Indeed, no.’ The ghost of a laugh escaped him. ‘Nor that Hetty would think of tidying it, even were she in full possession of her senses.’

‘There you are, then.’

Jarrow took a turn about the room, walking into the darkness and out again. ‘What do you mean to imply by this, Miss Faraday? Am I to take it that Duggan is lying? Or that someone else is involved?’

‘I have no notion!’

‘Then what would you wish me to do?’

Defeated, Nell sank into a chair by the table. ‘I do not know, sir.’

At least he seemed inclined to believe her. Curiously, although this gave her satisfaction, it did little to settle the disorder of her mind. He had asked the very questions she was asking of herself, and Nell had no answers.

‘I have disturbed you for nothing, it appears,’ she said at last. ‘I am sorry for that at least.’

‘Don’t be,’ he returned. ‘I would prefer to be disturbed a thousand times than be ignorant of any of my daughter’s oddities of conduct.’

Nell looked up at that. ‘My lord, if she was indeed sleepwalking, there is no harm in it, I assure you.’

His voice was dry. ‘Is there not, indeed?’

‘I assure you,’ she repeated. ‘We had several girls who did so at the Seminary, and nothing dreadful happened to them at all.’

He did not pursue the subject, but Nell felt as if he withdrew into himself. He was facing her, standing in the light. The worn look had returned to his features, and she saw again the clefts beneath his eyes and below his cheekbones. Guilt traced a hazy path into her bosom, and the rhythm within it stepped up.

‘I will leave you, my lord. I thank you for listening with patience.’

Rising from the chair, she made as if to pass him. Lord Jarrow caught at her arm.

‘Wait!’

Her flesh burned under the thin fabric of her sleeve, and she felt a quiver inside. Dismayed by this unprecedented reaction to his touch, she concentrated all her attention to prevent his noticing it.

Jarrow saw the change in her face, but he did not release her. She was stiff, he thought, but let that pass. She had insisted upon this interview, and there were things that he wished to know.

‘I have not troubled you, Miss Faraday, as you will have noticed. But my anxieties are as they were. Can you add anything now to what you told me that first day?’

She was either unable or unwilling to understand him! Why the puzzled look?

‘I am talking of Henrietta. How is she doing?’

Beset by too many sensations to be able to think straight, Nell could no longer refrain from pulling away.

‘Pray let go of me, Lord Jarrow!’

He snapped back as if stung, snatching his hand away. ‘I beg your pardon.’

The curtness was back, and Nell’s heart sank. He must think she suspected his motives. Better that, perhaps, than he should guess that her thoughts were quite otherwise. She felt unequal to managing any further conversation with him.

‘It must be near time for dinner, sir. May we discuss this on some other occasion?’

His bow was ironic, she thought. ‘By all means, ma’am.’

Nell fled the room in disorder.

The silence of night had a muffled feel, as if it was covered over with a heavy cloth. Nell lay in the darkness of the curtained bed, her ears stretched to catch the slightest sound. She had no notion what had woken her, but its impact had thrust sleep from her, peeling it away. There was nothing to be heard beyond the pounding of her own heart, yet the conviction grew upon Nell that she was not alone in the room.

Gathering herself, she sat up in one swift movement and dragged back the curtain. Thanks to her habit of leaving the windows unshuttered and the drapes undrawn, a faint spill of moonlight showed her the figure standing by the side of her bed.

‘Henrietta! Great heavens, what a start you gave me!’

The child said nothing. Nor had she reacted to the sudden movement. Nell peered closely towards the gleam of the girl’s pale face. Her eyes were open, staring straight ahead, and her breathing was both long and regular. She was in her nightgown, dark curls tumbling over the shoulders, with her feet bare. There could be no
doubt of it. This time the child was definitely sleepwalking!

Nell eased herself out of bed. Hetty remained standing just where she had found her, even as Nell reached to the hook behind the door for her dressing robe. She slipped it on, and thrust her feet into a pair of slippers.

Without speaking, she took the little girl’s hand in hers. She was cold, poor child, and no wonder! Then she gently turned Henrietta about and led her from the room.

It was not a great distance to the girl’s bedchamber, but there was no light in the corridors bar that which came in at the windows. Nell had necessarily to proceed slowly. Besides, the child must not be rushed, despite Nell’s anxiety to get her back into the warmth of her bed. Passing Duggan’s door, she paused to listen. The nurse was likely asleep, for the contretemps over Hetty’s unexpected appearance in the schoolroom had occurred on Tuesday, two days ago. Duggan had slept with her that one night, and although Henrietta had been drowsy on the Wednesday morning, she had been none the worse. And now this!

There was nothing to be heard within the room, and Nell moved on. The child’s docility was unsurprising. None of the girls who had sleepwalked at the Seminary had ever attempted to defend themselves from being returned to bed. Indeed, just this factor had given Kitty away when she had pretended to sleepwalk so that she might effect an entry to the forbidden area of the pantry in order to abstract a delicacy or two. She had fought off her would-be rescuers, and the deception had cost her several hours of solitary confinement on a diet of milk and dry biscuits.

Reaching Henrietta’s room, Nell found the door open. Once inside, the little girl needed no urging to move
straight to the large bed and climb up to settle quietly between the sheets. Nell tucked the covers close about her and bent to listen to her breathing. It was even, but laboured, as it had been the other day. She eyed the child’s features, pallid in the creeping moonlight.

What did this betoken? Perhaps she ought to request Lord Jarrow to send for the doctor he had mentioned. There was no need to wake him tonight. What could he do, after all? There had been no special treatment mentioned before. Nevertheless, Nell was loath to leave the child. She perched on the edge of the bed.

‘And what might this mean, miss, if I may make so bold?’

Nell jumped, turning her head. Duggan—a silhouette merely, but Nell could not mistake her!—was standing at the foot of the bed, arms akimbo. She had spoken in an undervoice, but the tone was as insolent as the words. Nell rose to face her.

‘I woke to find Henrietta beside my bed, Duggan. She was sleepwalking.’

She saw the woman’s head toss. ‘Oh, was she? And I suppose you wouldn’t think to wake me for it?’

Nell felt her temper rising. She moved away from the bed, fearful of waking Hetty. ‘As it happens, I did stop at your door. But as I heard no sound within, I did not trouble you. I judged it of more moment to get the child back to bed.’

‘Yes, if she had been walking, which is by no means certain.’

This was not to be borne! ‘Do you again suggest that I am making it up?’

The nurse’s face was in shadow, but her voice held an unmistakable note of contempt. ‘I wouldn’t know why
you’d do that, miss. Less it were to curry favour in a certain quarter.’

It was a moment before the implication hit Nell. Astounded, she could only stare at the woman’s silhouette. Could Duggan seriously suppose that she would put the child at risk in order to gain an interest with Lord Jarrow? Unless she had entirely misread what the creature meant, Duggan was either jealous of her position or fundamentally stupid. Or there was a more sinister reason, at which Nell could not yet hazard the haziest guess. She opted for an attack direct.

‘I do not know what your motive may be, Duggan, in attempting to give me the lie, but you may believe me when I tell you that whatever it is, I am not easily to be vanquished in a battle of wills!’

She then stalked past the woman and walked out of the room, inwardly seething.

It was long before she slept again, her mind roving. And not, as might have been expected, over the astonishing vagaries of the nurse. To her chagrin, Nell found herself obstinately returning to the extraordinary effect upon her senses of Lord Jarrow’s grasp upon her arm the other day. Try as she would, she could not shake off the memory. Yet until the incident tonight, her obstinate brain had obeyed her insistent refusal to think about it. Why must it come upon her now, torturing her with the same racing pulse, the churning at her stomach, and the feel of intense heat in her arm where his fingers had held it?

The answer stared her in the face, and a damping cold rolled through her at the thought, sweeping it all away. She stood accused tonight! And the knowledge that she was innocent of any attempt to engage her employer’s interest did nothing to assuage a hideous feeling of guilt.
Could those dreadful sensations mean that she was susceptible to his attraction?

The very word caused her to groan and turn her face into the pillows. Heavens, but there was something in it! Even on the day of her arrival, her interest had been caught by the signs of that distress to which he had now and then given voice. Her fingers seized the edges of her pillow and clutched them painfully.

Where had her wits gone begging? Such self-deception, Helen Faraday! The Duck would frown upon her, and with good reason. Clever Nell! Priding herself upon her self-control, upon her cool head, and her management. And she was incapable of managing her own feelings!

She flung herself about, turning in the bed and staring up into the dark reaches of the unseen tester. Enough! She would not give in. She would conquer this. Come, the first step was taken. She had recognised her fault. Belatedly, but at least before any damage had been done. She could not have betrayed herself to Lord Jarrow. She had that comfort. And there was always the advice of her revered preceptress.

‘You will be tempted, make no mistake about it. You are young, and desire is a natural thing. God made us to be subject to it, and with good reason. It is His way of continuing the species. Sadly, my dears, in your case it is not to be. But that does not mean that you will not encounter someone who evokes in you those sorts of feelings. I tell you this for your own protection. When it happens—notice that I do not say if!—
when
, I say, it happens to you,
you must take control
.’

There was ever a fluttering of sighs among the girls, Nell remembered, when it came to that point. She had heard the speech a number of times, for Mrs Duxford
made it a regular feature of her teaching. Kitty had been used to clap her hands over her ears, refusing to listen. But Prue had nodded in solemn agreement. Not on account of her own future, recalled Nell smiling a little, for Miss Prudence Hursley had thought there could be no occasion to fear on her own account. Nor had Nell believed that she could fall victim herself.

Victim? No, that was putting it too strongly. She was no victim, for she had caught it in time. She could with advantage pursue that remedy advocated by Mrs Duxford.

‘To fight against the feeling is the worst thing you can do, for you will only occasion in yourself an obsessive conflict that will take up all your attention. No, my dears, do not make that mistake. Acknowledge to yourself that the feeling is there, or has been there. And then concentrate your attention upon your duties. And, most importantly, avoid the object of your interest as much as you can. Fortunately, your circumstances are such that it is likely to be an easy course to pursue. The gentlemen of the house are in general far too occupied to have any interest in the whereabouts of the governess.’

In general, yes. Only the Duck had not bargained for a household where the governess daily supped with these gentry. Nevertheless, it was sound advice, and Nell determined to follow it. She began to plan a campaign of avoidance, which became strangely involved. Her last coherent thought was of the portrait in the parlour, of Julietta Jarrow.

When she woke in the morning, she was horrified to realise that all her dreams had been of her employer. Thankfully, she could remember none of the circumstances.

The problem was relegated to the back of her mind, however, within a short time of her charge’s arrival in the schoolroom. Hetty was in a black mood. Just as his lordship had predicted, the halcyon period was over.

The child began with a heavy sulk, dark brows lowering and a pout upon her rosebud mouth. Recalcitrant, she objected to Nell’s every effort to introduce lessons.

‘Where had we got to? Ah, yes, we have done the letter G. Now look at this, Hetty.’

‘Don’t want to!’ came the deep little voice as Nell began to write on the board.

She turned to find the child had buried her face in her arms upon the desk. Nell touched her gently.

‘Hetty, look at me, please.’

The girl flinched away. ‘Don’t want to.’

‘What is the matter?’

‘Don’t want to.’

Nell drew a breath. ‘Very well. Shall I read to you instead?’

The child sat up with a bang.
‘Noooooooo!’

Her hair was wild, her eyes fierce. For the first time, Nell felt the want of Duggan’s presence. However much she disliked the creature, at least she was used to dealing with the child. Nell had no notion how to proceed. It would be today that the woman chose to absent herself! For a brief moment, Nell toyed with the notion of seeking Lord Jarrow’s help. But only for a moment. After last night, that was the last thing she wished to do.

‘Hetty, what is it?’

She thought the gentle note might help, but the child positively glared at her. Her small fists clenched on the desk, and the pale features had all the brooding intensity of her father. Nell was conscious of a sliver of alarm in
her breast. Was this a prelude to one of those shrieking tantrums? She tried another tack.

‘Well, if you do not wish to do anything, we will simply sit here.’