The Governess Club: Bonnie (4 page)

With all my love,

Bonnie

S
tephen leaned his elbows on the desk, rested his forehead against his fingers, and rubbed. He could not remember the last time his eyes and head ached in such synchronicity. For nine days, Renard had been pushing ledger after account after letter after bill under his eyes. Stephen considered himself a decently observant man, but even he could not determine any progress made on the piles of work in the study.

It all took away from what he actually wanted to do. Since Renard had gotten his claws into him, Stephen hadn’t been able to investigate beyond the ruined bridge and interviewing Burdis. The butler had been surprisingly ill-informed regarding the accident; all he had been able to confirm was that George and Roslyn had seen an increase in their clumsiness in the months leading up to their deaths.

He looked at the standing clock. This was around the time the governess had gone to the kitchen last week. He had only seen her in passing since that night and had no idea if taking tea at this time was her routine. But if he did not at least try to look for her, who knew when his chance would be?

With that thought, Stephen stood and strode purposefully out the study.
It may be another nine days before I get this opportunity again. No sense letting it go to waste.

The light filling the servant’s corridor increased his certainty. He turned the corner and stepped into the kitchen light. Miss Hodges was sitting in the same chair as last time, her feet propped on the seat next to her, her head tilted back and eyes closed as she chewed. Stephen watched, mesmerized as any man would be, as Miss Hodges dramatically raised the last bit of biscuit over her head and intentionally lowered it to her open mouth.

“Mmm,” Miss Hodges let out a moan around the biscuit. “Mrs. Dabbs, you do make a delicious biscuit. Absolutely sinful it is.”

Stephen cleared his throat, alerting her to his presence. He didn’t expect her shriek, or the flailing limbs rocking her off the chair and onto the floor. He winced at the sound of her body hitting the stone floor and moved around the table to assist her.

He found her on her hands and knees struggling to breathe. “Miss Hodges?” he asked. At her distressed hand signal, he quickly crouched down beside her and thumped her on the back. He did it again when she continued to struggle. And again. He raised his hand for a fourth time but she stalled him by sitting back on her heels.

Her face was red, her eyes watered, and her hair was disheveled from her ordeal. A few more coughs and she wiped her eyes and patted her hair.

“Are you all right?” Stephen asked.

Miss Hodges took a deep breath and pushed herself up on shaky legs. Stephen automatically followed. “My lord,” she said with an awkward curtsey. “Was there something you required?”

He was silent for only a moment. “Tea.”

Miss Hodges gave a quick nod. “The water ought to still be warm. I will freshen the pot and bring you a tray in the study.”

“Here is fine. You are not a kitchen maid.”

She looked at him as she fetched another teacup. “No, but I am a governess, and governesses, my lord, have many talents. Besides, the kitchen maids get up early and accommodate me enough by leaving out the makings for tea.”

Stephen sat in the same chair as he had last time. “Do you come here often?”

A small twinkle entered her eye. “To the kitchen? Usually whenever I am hungry.”

He stared at her eyes. Green? No, hazel. That was their color. More of a green than brown, but definitely hazel.

The twinkle in those eyes faded when he did not respond. She dropped her gaze and gave a quiet “forgive me,” and poured him his tea. Formality settled on her like a shawl where she stood.

He gestured at the tea service. “Please sit and finish your tea with me.”

Bonnie sat hesitantly. She had been raised and trained for numerous situations she might experience as a governess, but never had taking tea with the master of the house in the kitchen been mentioned.

Sir Stephen took a sip of his tea and gestured to hers. “Finish your tea,” he said quietly. Unable to do much else, Bonnie lifted the cup to her lips and took a sip. The warm liquid freed her throat of the lingering biscuit crumbs, much to her relief.

Sir Stephen spoke. “You misunderstood me earlier. I meant to ask if you take tea at this time regularly.”

“Most evenings, yes, once the children have fallen asleep. Is it permissible?” She tried to keep the worry out of her eyes and voice. The viscountess had not minded, but this guardian was still unknown.

“Aye,” he replied, inclining his head. “I have no intention of disrupting the household overly much.”

Relieved, Bonnie looked into her tea. These moments alone in the kitchen had become a sort of sanctuary, even more so since the accident. She did not know what she would do if it were to be taken away.

“You don’t believe me?” His voice cut into her thoughts.

“If I may be so bold, sir, this household had the largest disruption one could possibly fathom. The arrival of the guardian, while appreciated, hardly warrants panic.”

“Are you suggesting that any changes I make would be received gladly?”

“I am saying that you are the master of the house. It is not our place to question whatever changes you make.”

Stephen couldn’t let that challenge pass. “So if I were to let you go, you would not object?”

Those hazel eyes revealed her shock again; she had quite expressive eyes. “Let me go?”

Stephen shrugged and took a drink of his tea. “Henry is of age to need a tutor and Arthur seems more in need of a nurse than a governess. On paper, it does not make sense to retain a governess at this point.”

Bonnie couldn’t speak. Was she truly being let go? While it would free her to go to Ridgestone Manor, the stain of having her employment terminated would attach itself to her professional reputation; the only acceptable time for a governess to be let go was when the last child graduated from the schoolroom. Besides, Henry and Arthur still needed her. They still had so much to recover from and taking away the one person they depended on would likely hinder that process even more.

And to leave them with this man who regretted his guardianship only nine days in? She could not do it; every part of her being screamed in denial. What would he do for the next thirteen years if he already wanted to forget his responsibilities?

“You would get a glowing recommendation, of course,” he continued speaking. “Anyone with eyes can see the good you have done, especially given these strained circumstances.”

“Thank you,” Bonnie managed to say around the blockage in her throat.

“I am confident you would find another post. You are a governess and there are always families in need of one.”

Oh, what a way to put her in her place. Of course she was just a governess. Her employment depended on the whim of those controlling the money and making the decisions.

Heaven help her, she had grown too secure with the thought that the boys needed her so desperately. She had forgotten everything her mother had taught her, everything her father had shown her. She had even ignored the warnings Louisa had given. This was the very reason why she wanted the Governess Club formed, to protect herself and the others from arbitrary decisions and mistreatment. How could she have been so stupid as to relax?

Bonnie cleared her throat and stood. “Would you prefer me to leave immediately or to remain until the tutor and nurse are found?”

Stephen raised his eyebrows. “You have no objections?”

“It is not my place to object, my lord.”

He sat back and regarded her closely. She had said any changes would be accepted by the servants without objections, and here she was, standing in the face of dismissal with dignity and poise. It appeared she was a woman of her word, indicating she could be trusted.

“Sit down, Miss Hodges,” he said. His voice was again quiet, but Bonnie felt the order in his words nonetheless and complied. “Tell me what I said.”

Bonnie stared at him and said, “You said you were letting me go.”

“Did I?”

Bonnie furrowed her brow and thought again. “You said there is no reason to keep me and so were letting me go.”

“Not quite. Think hard.”

Taking a deep breath, she thought about everything he said. Every word floated through her brain. When her mind honed in on a significant point, she blurted, “You said that it did not make sense on paper to retain me.”

Triumph flared in his eyes. “Does that say beyond a shadow of a doubt that I will let you go?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“It indicates that there is more affecting your decisions than things you can see on paper.”

The corners of his mouth tugged into a small smile. “Excellent. It is clear that the boys depend on you and that you have a calming effect on them. It would be a grave mistake to let you go.”

Relief flooded through her body. Stephen could see it in the way her body sagged. As dignified as she had taken the thought of her dismissal, it had frightened her.

The relief lasted only a minute. Anger filled her hazel eyes. “Was this some sort of a test?”

“I suppose you could look at it that way.”

“Is this what you do for amusement? Is this meant to make me appreciate you for not letting me go?”

“No. If it makes you feel better, you passed.”

“And what would have happened if I had not?”

Stephen shook his head and answered, “I would not have trusted you.”

Bonnie let out a disbelieving laugh. “Not trust me? What have I done since your arrival to indicate that I am not trustworthy?”

“Nothing comes to mind.”

“Well, I certainly feel assured that the man who has done nothing to gain our trust feels that I am worthy. If you will excuse me.” Bonnie pushed herself up and stormed around the table to the servant’s corridor.

“Miss Hodges, I did not mean to upset you.”

Bonnie turned and looked at Sir Stephen standing at the table. “The most important thing in my life at this moment is Henry and Arthur. It doesn’t concern me that their new guardian apparently expects everyone to earn his trust before he takes any step to show himself worthy of the same regard.”

“Miss Hodges, calm down.”

“With respect, my lord,” Bonnie continued. “What concerns me is that in the nine days since being here, their guardian has done nothing remotely guardian-like. And you think I am the one who needs to earn trust?”

Stephen stared at her. “Miss Hodges, I . . .”

“Do you understand, Sir Stephen? Do you understand that these boys need more than a man behind a desk balancing ledgers? They need more than someone who hires tutors and runs the estate. They need more than you; they need a father.”

“I am not their father,” Stephen burst out. “He is dead. My friends are dead. I am bloody well not some sort of savior.”

“I know,” Bonnie said, her voice sad. “But you’re all they have.”

“E
nough.” Stephen slammed his hand on the desk, cutting Renard’s sentence off. “It’s been ten days, Renard. Ten days of this.”

“Sir—”

“No. I find it hard to believe that Darrow would let his estate get into such a mess.”

“I understand, Sir Stephen. I assure you, I did my best, but in the last months, Lord Darrow was not himself.”

Stephen’s attention perked up at that. “Explain yourself.”

Renard shifted uncomfortably. “I do not wish to speak ill of the late viscount.”

“If you know anything that will help me through this,” Stephen gestured at the piles of paper covering the desk, “then share it.”

“Lord Darrow seemed . . . distracted in the last few months,” Renard offered.

“Elaborate.”

“He did not spend as much time working with me as he had in the past. When he did come into the study, the decisions and investments he made—I may as well not have been in the room for how little he listened to me.”

“Bad investments?”

“Yes sir. Not so much bad, but ill-advised. Companies and men seeking investors came. I advised against many of them, but he wouldn’t listen.”

“Why do you think that was?”

Renard shifted again. “He had been drinking, sir. Most of the time you couldn’t find him without a glass in his hand.”

Stephen’s eyebrows raised. “Drinking?” Renard nodded. Stephen sat back in his chair, running his hand through his hair.

“The more he drank, the more suspicious he became,” Renard continued.

“Suspicious?”

“Thinking someone was out to hurt him. His drinking had made him clumsy and he had several accidents. Once, I came into the study late at night and he was pacing, muttering to himself about someone targeting him and his family. But I never saw anything of the sort, nothing that couldn’t be explained as drunken clumsiness.”

Stephen rubbed the bridge of his nose. Could it be that the fear George had conveyed in his letter was the result of his own doing? It must have been written in a moment of sobriety; the lucidity indicated nothing else. Is it possible that he had been losing sleep over the actions of a sot?

“Renard,” Stephen stood up. “I’ll need to see all those bad investments. Find everything you can in all this.”

“Yes sir.”

S
tephen ran the currycomb down Emperor’s length. He did it again. And again. He relished in the shine of the gelding’s chestnut coat, the smell of the stable; both had calming effects on him.

It didn’t add up. Surely George would have known whether someone was actually targeting the Darrow family; it couldn’t just be drunken illusions. Was the suspicion the result of drinking, or vice versa?

Stephen moved to Emperor’s other side, trailing his palm over the horse’s rump, and began brushing again. The repetitive routine, the normalness of the action, was soothing. Emperor was enjoying the attention; he kept turning his head towards Stephen, snuffling around for some sugar lumps or apples.

Stephen obliged Emperor, dipping into his pocket for the sugar lump. “Aye, I’ve been neglectful,” he murmured with a smile. “We’ll go for a run tomorrow, although it won’t be much like what you are used to. No air from the firth here, no hills like those around Annan, but plenty of space to stretch our legs. Aye, even that river there is nice to look at, don’t you think?”