Virtue of a Governess (11 page)

“I canna hold her any longer, Miss Douglas,” Miss McIntyre sobbed, her accent thick in her distress.

“Wait.” Nicola yanked up her skirts and climbed onto the bed. With strength she didn’t know she owned, she heaved Emily higher. “Don’t let go, Miss McIntyre, I beg you!”

Meg returned with two sharp knives. Behind her, came the cook and the new maid, who began screaming hysterically. Meg climbed up beside Nicola, as did the cook and together they frantically sawed at the rope until they cried out because their muscles burned in their arms.

Miss McIntyre’s sobbing became wails as her strength gave out. Finally, the remaining strands of thick hemp snapped and Nicola lost her grip. Emily and Miss McIntyre fell hard onto the floor.

Nicola scurried to Emily’s side, but moaned deep in her throat when she realised the unnatural position of Emily’s head. Her neck was clearly broken. Gently, hesitantly, she lifted Emily’s head and straightened her neck. She looked down at the parted coat and carefully placed her shaking hand over the swollen stomach. Grief welled at the tragic loss.

“Nicola.” Meg touched her arm. “The police are here.”

Frowning, she rose to her feet. “The police?”

“Yes, two constables. Miss Burstall went for them.” Meg’s tone matched the anger on her face. “She was
lucky
enough to find two of them walking in the next street.”

Nicola turned to the door only to find Miss Burstall leading in the two constables. Revulsion at the triumph on the other woman’s face turned Nicola’s stomach. She greeted the men and then asked for everyone to leave, except Meg. With Meg’s support she managed to answer the constable’s questions and give a dignified account of Emily’s life. However, when Doctor Armitage arrived, she gladly left the men to their work and headed downstairs to wait in the sitting room.

“Where’s that cold-hearted witch, Burstall?” Meg demanded of the others the minute she entered the room.

“Don’t, Meg. Not now.” Nicola took Meg’s hand to calm her. “I’ll speak with Miss Burstall later.”

“She has to go, Nicola.”

“She will, believe me. That woman will be gone from this house before nightfall.” On shaky legs, Nicola crossed the room and sat by the unlit fireplace. Miss McIntyre reclined opposite on the sofa, looking exhausted her red freckles standing out on her pale face, while Miss Nugent passed around cups of tea with hands that shook so badly each cup was only half full. Of Miss Golding there was no sign and Nicola hoped she’d gone to bed. Her shattered nervous disposition would be too much for Nicola to bear at that moment.

The next few hours brought utter sadness to the house as the undertaker came and took Emily’s body away. The constables left, as did Doctor Armitage while Nicola made the funeral arrangements. Mr Belfroy arrived, his face shadowed with haunting memories of his own recent loss. He sat silently near Nicola, content to let her and Meg deal with the unfortunate business.

When the uneaten evening meal had been cleared away, Nicola left the dining room, talking to Meg. The front door opened and Miss Burstall entered the house. She hesitated on seeing Nicola and Meg.

“Miss Burstall.” Nicola raised her eyebrows, giving the other woman one of her most superior glares. “You will pack your belongings and leave this house within the hour.”

Miss Burstall’s top lip curled with contempt. “Gladly, Miss Douglas. The idea of staying another moment within these walls upsets me greatly.” She brushed passed them and had taken three stairs when Meg stepped forward.

“May your conscience trouble you for the rest of your life, Burstall.”

Faltering ever so slightly, Miss Burstall’s hand tightened on the banister and she looked down at them with a small smile. “My conscience is quite clear, Meg Robinson. Is yours? You may have delighted in sharing a house with the likes of Emily Downing, but myself, I have higher standards that you can never hope to achieve.”

“I’d rather be dead than like you, you dried up old prune. You wouldn’t know compassion and sympathy if you tried. I dread to think what kind of children you produce in your role as a governess. Their poor parents have no notion of whom they are hiring.”

Burstall took another step. “I can say the same for you, too, Miss Robinson.”

Nicola stepped forward, hoping that what they all thought wasn’t true. “Did you have anything to do with Emily’s decision to take her own life?”

“She made the choice, I didn’t force her.”

Frustration flared in Nicola’s chest. “Explain yourself.”

“Let me just say that if Emily Downing found the need to end her life I did nothing to prevent her. After all, what kind of future would she and her bastard have had?” Straight backed, she continued on to her room.

“Why you hateful, mean-faced witch!” Meg yelled and rushed forward.

“No, Meg.” Nicola barely managed to hold Meg still, for her spit-fire friend was intent on scratching Miss Burstall’s eyes out and she was half tempted to let her.

Later, with the sun descending behind distant ranges, Nicola lit the lamps and drew the curtains, shutting the world out. The women had eaten a light supper and then retired to their rooms, leaving her and Mr Belfroy alone. She had ordered the fire to be lit, its cheery blaze comforting.

“No matter how hard I try, it still happens…” Mr Belfroy murmured, staring into the golden flames.

“What happens?” Nicola sighed, flexing her aching shoulders.

“They still die. Good young women still fill the churchyard no matter what I do.”

“Oh, Mr Belfroy, you mustn’t blame yourself. You cannot save them all. You do so much as it is.”

“Not enough, Miss Douglas. Not enough.”

“Nonsense. I won’t let you torment yourself with things over which you have no control. What occurred to Emily was tragic indeed, but I feel she was beyond saving. Her mind and soul had long been troubled by the events happening to her. She saw no future for herself because of the child. Can any of us be surprised by what she did? To her, in her mind, her life was already over. All she had to do was physically escape.”

“But it is the tragedy of her downfall that we must prevent, Miss Douglas. We must find these women, these good intelligent women, decent situations with the remuneration they deserve so they can live a life without hardship and degradation when they are out of work.”

“You cannot mend the entire population of unemployed women, Mr Belfroy. It is impossible.”

He jerked to his feet, his eyes damp. “I must try, Miss Douglas. I cannot sit by idle.”

Nicola stood and placed her hand gently on his arm. “Mr Belfroy, you, of all men, are the least idle. You know what good work you do here.”

He looked her directly in the eyes. “It is not enough, my dear, and never will be.”

The following day, Nicola sat at her desk supposedly working, but she couldn’t focus. Instead, she spent half an hour staring out the little window, which overlooked the neighbour’s back garden. With a sigh, she put away her pen and wiped her tired eyes. Misery weighed on the house’s occupants like a heavy chest cold.

Restless, she stepped to the door. Perhaps a swift walk would lift the mood. From the kitchen came the crashing sound of crockery being dropped and Cook’s cursing at Hannah. Sighing, Nicola quickly donned her shawl and hat and slipped from the house before someone spotted her.

A slight breeze swayed the topmost tree branches. The bright sunshine made Nicola close her eyes and raise her face up to it. Spring flowers of daffodils, snowdrops and bluebells reminiscent of English gardens had burst into bloom in the small gardens she passed. She wished the lodging house had a good garden of its own, instead of the square patch of lawn and the one large tree in the middle. In fact, she wished the lodgings had more space entirely, both inside and out.

At the end of the street she turned left and not right as usual. The noise of the harbour and docks didn’t appeal today, but a quiet walk around the suburban streets of Double Bay suited her more. The houses in this area were well cared for, with large lawns and sweeping verandahs.

She’d walked for nearly ten minutes, admiring the blossom on fruit trees that offered up their scents from behind wooden fences, when she paused in front of one large two-story brick house set back from the road and with extensive lawns. On the gate a sign read “For Sale”.

“For sale,” she whispered, her mind whirling with ideas. The house was well positioned on the high side of the road and the top floor would likely have a view of the harbour. Edging the lawns were tall palms, banana trees and immature Norfolk Pines, and all gave the garden a touch of some tropical paradise.

“Miss Douglas?”

Nicola whirled around to the slowing carriage. She hadn’t heard it approach. Mr West poked his head out of the door. She sucked in a deep breath at the sight of him. How much easier her life would be without the bothersome reactions she had to this man. “Good day, Mr West.”

He climbed down from the carriage and bowed over her hand. “I didn’t believe my eyes when I saw you there. You are the last person I expected to be here.” He looked up at the house. “Do I have a contender for this house?”

She blinked in surprise. “You are looking to buy this property?”

“Yes, I am. At least I’m thinking about it.” He grinned, tilting his head to study her. “Does Mr Belfroy pay you so well that you can afford such a house?”

“You are making fun of me, sir.”

“Indeed, I am.” He glanced down at the ground and then back to her face. For once, sincerity clouded his eyes. “I am ill-mannered, forgive me.”

“I am not so unbending as to not take a joke, Mr West.” She managed a small smile, not knowing why she wanted to make him feel better. Blushing, she turned back to view the house. “If I was fortunate enough to be able to purchase this house, I’d turn it into a home for governesses and middle class ladies in need.”

“Really?” His bland expression gave no hint of his thoughts. “Would you care to see inside? I have the keys.”

She stepped away, shaking her head. “Thank you, but no. It is futile to torment one’s self for things they can never have.”

His soft smile transformed his handsome face into something so wondrous, of such startling male beauty, Nicola felt robbed of all thought. He held out his hand. “Indulge me, please.”

Mindless, she allowed him to guide her through the gate, up the path and onto the wide verandah. She stood still as he unlocked the door and then he ushered her inside the square entrance hall.

Rooms led off the hall left and right, but the main feature, a magnificent central staircase dominated it. Nicola ran her hands over the polished timber banister and gazed upwards at the large landing at the top.

She glided from room to room, the drawing room, front parlour, the library and dining room. In some rooms, the cornices were moulded in designs of cherubs and flowers, others had mock silk Chinese wallpaper covering the top half of the walls, differing in colour in each room, while the bottom half was timber panelled. Large windows let in plenty of light. She finished her tour in a study decorated in dark red.

“It is a worthy house, yes?”

She turned to him and nodded, unable to speak. The house was the exact kind she would want to live in.

“I will buy it,” he whispered, “I’ll buy it for you.”

Nicola stared at him as though he’d spoken a foreign language. His words floated around in her mind, but made no sense.

“Nicola,” he took her hand, ‘may I call you Nicola? It’s such a beautiful name and suits a magnificent woman such as you.” He stepped closer, his eyes darkening as though burning with some inner fire. “Nicola, marry me, please.”

“Mr-marry? You?” She couldn’t breathe.

The corner of his mouth lifted. “Is that so awful?”

“But you do not know me, or I you.”

“Then we must rectify that.” He brought her hand up and gently placed his lips to it and the strength went from her legs.

“I cannot marry.”

“Why ever not?” He laughed lightly, though she found nothing funny about it.

“Because…because I am a governess…”

“And there is a law against governesses marrying?”

“No, but…” Her mouth went dry as he lowered his head, stopping inches from her face.

“Nicola, marry me. I’ll make you happy. I promise.”

As if pulled by an invisible string she swayed forward, their lips touching, but the physical contact sprang her drugged mind awake and she jerked back, shocked at her behaviour. “I must go!”

“Nicola.” His violet eyes held a promise of delights, of hidden sensations that he could give her.

“No. Don’t call me that. You...we…” She touched her lips with her fingertips, frightened by the intensity of him. It was as thought the very air about them was charged. Trembling, she walked backwards, putting space between them. If he touched her she believed she would lose her mind, she was sure of it. How could he arouse such desperate feelings in her from a mere glance of those eyes of his? She was terribly afraid that if he laid a hand on her she would beg him to never stop...

“Nicola, please...”

“I cannot.” She shook her head, not knowing her mind.

“Why?” His pained passionate plea broke her heart.

“We are too different! I know nothing about you.”

“Let me court you, please.”

“No. We aren’t even friends. You-” Choking on a sob, she fled the house and the tantalising Nathaniel West.