The Tempting Of The Governess

A glimmer of a smile flickered on his lips and lit his eyes before his expression turned sombre again. Unexpected—and unexpectedly engaging—that tiny spark of warmth raised her flagging spirits, like a candle illumining a dark room.

Even solemn, with a thin, care-worn face, she had to allow the Colonel was attractive. An aura of command surrounded him, subtly proclaiming this was a man used to making decisions, acting upon them and expecting others to obey. He had none of the charm or charisma of her friend Emma’s handsome husband, Lord Theo, but his air of competence and absolute dependability was unexpectedly appealing.

And she had no business finding her new employer attractive or appealing. While she was reminding herself of this fact, he said, ‘I’m sorry for your loss.’

Her throat gone suddenly tight, she merely nodded. His comment was too sharp of a reminder of just how much she had lost—not only her mother, but her home, position, friends and the future she’d always expected would be hers.

He stood, signifying the interview was over. ‘I shall appreciate any help you can give in making the children feel more at ease during their stay at Somers Abbey. Mansfield will take you to meet Mrs Wallace, the housekeeper, who will see that you have dinner and show you to your room.’

‘Are you not going to take me to meet the children?’

‘Mrs Wallace will do so, if they are still awake after you’ve dined.’

Finding that odd, Olivia said, ‘Are they not brought down to visit you in the evenings, after you return from working on the estate?’

‘No. I often don’t return until well after dark. Mrs Wallace believes children do better if they are kept on a regular, dependable schedule. As I am almost a total stranger to them, there really is no need for them to see me.’

‘But you said you were their last remaining relative...’

The quelling look the Colonel gave her had her words trailing off. Though there was a good deal more she’d like to know on the subject, she stifled the questions. She’d meet her charges, coax out their feelings on the matter, then decide whether or not to bring it up again with their guardian.

She might now be an employee, but she was never going to be meek or retiring.

The Colonel was a military man, used to the company of rough soldiers and adventuresome officers. Like many men, he was probably not accustomed to dealing with children, especially young and female ones.

However, as she knew only too painfully, coping with the loss of your entire world was frightening and devastating—and she was an adult. Being the sole remaining relative of two small girls who had recently lost theirs, he should be making a greater effort to help them adjust.

A few minutes later, Mansfield arrived to conduct her to her room.

It appeared the main part of the manor was medieval, to which several additions had been added. She followed the old man around a maze of twisting corridors and up a flight of stairs, down a draughty hallway to what looked like a wing of bedchambers. At least she was to be given a proper room, rather than a garret in the attics.

The room itself was large but spartan, containing only a bed, a single dresser with a washbowl on it, and a wardrobe. Perhaps it was the approaching shadows playing over the few pieces of furniture in a room that had obviously once contained many more that gave it such a bleak air, but it was also dusty, she noted in disapproval. Since the household obviously knew of her arrival, that didn’t give her a very high opinion of the housekeeper.

A knock at the door was followed by the entrance of a kitchen maid bearing a tray, which she set on the single side table beside the bed. She was followed by a tall, thin, dark-haired woman in a lace cap with a chain of keys hanging about her neck. ‘Your supper, Miss Overton,’ the woman said, giving her a slight curtsy, to which Olivia responded in kind. ‘I am Mrs Wallace, the housekeeper.’

As if the keys worn on a chain hanging about her neck didn’t identify her quite clearly, Olivia thought. ‘Pleased to meet you, Mrs Wallace. Will I also meet my new charges this evening?’

‘No, the Misses Glendenning have already retired. Their nursery is further down this corridor. Mary, here, will show you to it after she brings up your breakfast in the morning. Goodnight, Miss Overton.’

That was it? No welcome, no ‘let me know if you need anything’? Olivia swallowed hard. Yet another reminder that she was no longer a guest to be accommodated, but simply another employee.

‘Goodnight, Mrs Wallace, Mary.’ She smiled at the maid who, apparently startled by her notice, smiled back—before she caught the sharp eye of the housekeeper fixed on her, dropped a quick curtsy and scurried out.

Lighting a candle—fortunately, the derelict house seemed to at least provide candles—against the gathering gloom, Olivia shivered as she sat on the bed. The stone walls seemed as chilly as her greeting.

She hoped the poor children’s room was more inviting. In any event, this house needed a large infusion of light and cheer, and beginning tomorrow, she was going to provide it—regardless of what her distant employer and his stiff-necked housekeeper might want.

She could use some cheer herself. As the weariness of long travel loosened the tight grip with which she’d been containing all the devastation of loss, grief and fear for the future bottled up within her, she felt tears begin to trickle down her cheeks. Alone, with no one to witness her breakdown, she wrapped her arms around her pillow and wept.

Some time in the night, as she huddled in her bed, counterpane pulled up over her head for warmth, Olivia woke with a start, conscious of a sense of alarm. What had roused her from a deep, exhausted sleep?

Pulling the covering from over her head, she heard it again—a soft, distant, mournful noise that sounded almost like—weeping.

The hairs rose on the back of her neck. Did this near-empty house contain—ghosts?

Given its gloom, she wouldn’t be surprised if the manor’s halls were trod late at night by wraiths of the unfortunate monks who’d been murdered during its seizure. However, as she told herself stoutly that supernatural spirits were only a myth, the sound continued.

Might it be coming...from the nursery?

After lighting a candle and throwing on her thick dressing gown, Olivia walked out of her chamber into the hallway, where the sound grew louder. She followed its increasing volume down the hallway, to halt before a closed door, which must be the nursery. Because she was certain what she heard was the sound of a small child crying.

After rapping on the door, she walked into the night-dark room, where the wavering light from her candle fell over two small girls. The larger one had her arms wrapped around a smaller one, who was weeping piteously.

At her entrance, the sobbing stopped abruptly and both children froze. Then the older girl released her sister and jumped from the bed to stand protectively in front of her. ‘It was me crying! Don’t beat Sophie!’

Taken aback, Olivia said, ‘Beat her? Why on earth would I beat her?’

‘Because she woke you up. Mrs Wallace says we are never to disturb anyone at night, because she doesn’t have enough servants to take care of this big house and they need their sleep. Most ’specially, we are not to disturb the master.’

‘And she has you beaten if you do wake someone up?’

‘Yes. But Sophie is so cold, she can’t help crying.’ Her own lip quivering, the girl added with an almost desperate defiance, ‘We’re both s-so cold.’

‘Don’t be afraid. I have no intention of striking you,’ Olivia said, walking nearer. Frowning, she inspected the large room, which contained only two small beds side by side, a dresser, and a wardrobe, with a large open area that must serve as a schoolroom. Much like hers, it, too, was more sparsely furnished than its size warranted.

‘I’m Miss Overton, your new governess,’ she continued as she reached the girls. ‘You must be—Elizabeth...’ she motioned to the bigger girl ‘...and Sophie?’

The standing sister curtsied. ‘Yes, ma’am. We’re sorry we woke you up. So...you aren’t going to beat us?’

‘Certainly not.’ Her frown deepening, Olivia fingered the thin cotton blanket on the bed. It might be June, with full summer nearly upon them, but the stone abbey walls held in the chill like an ice cellar. The girls, too, wore only thin cotton nightgowns.

‘Goodness, no wonder you are frozen. Come here, both of you!’

Untying her robe, she sat on the bed. Pulling the girls into her arms, she settled one on each side of her and wrapped the thick garment around all of them.

It didn’t quite meet in the middle, but the girls were small enough that she was able to almost completely cover them as they clung to her, their need for warmth obviously stronger than their fear of being so close to a stranger.

‘Haven’t you told Mrs Wallace that you are cold at night?’

‘Oh, yes, ma’am,’ Elizabeth said. ‘The very first night, when Sophie woke up crying. But she said we were in England now and we would have to get used to it.’

‘Used to it? You grew up on an island where it is warm all the time, didn’t you?’

‘Yes, ma’am.’ Snuggling closer, the little girl said, ‘It was always sunny, too! It’s so dark here and it rains so much.’

‘I’ve never been to your homeland, but I’ve read that it’s beautiful. Full of exotic birds and trees and beautiful flowers. After we get you warmed up, you must go back to sleep. Then tomorrow, when we get acquainted, you must tell me all about it. Now, let’s see if I can find you more blankets.’

Shrugging off her robe to leave it around them, she padded to the chest, shivering in her thin linen night rail. She looked through all the drawers, which contained only an array of lightweight, cotton clothing. She went then to the wardrobe, but it stood empty.

She had no idea where the household linens might be kept and certainly didn’t intend to rummage about the dark to try to find them. Still—she couldn’t leave the girls with nothing but that worn excuse of a blanket to cover them.

Walking back to the bed, she pulled her robe from around the girls and donned it before urging them to their feet and enfolding them against her again. ‘You shall just have to spend the rest of the night in my chamber. We’ll find you adequate blankets tomorrow, when I can talk with Mrs Wallace.’

Sighing, the younger girl pressed closer. But Elizabeth piped up, ‘Mrs Wallace won’t like that. She says everything must be in its proper place. We aren’t allowed to move things, or touch things, or go into any of the other rooms besides the nursery.’

‘Don’t worry. I’ll deal with Mrs Wallace.’

If the housekeeper were such a fanatic about order, she’d do a better job of dusting, Olivia thought. Being short-staffed was no excuse for slovenliness.

She ushered the girls down the hall and into her room, then helped them climb up on the big bed. Moving them to the middle, where she could be reasonably sure they wouldn’t roll off in the night, she settled the thick counterpane around them and hopped into bed herself.

She smiled as she noted that Elizabeth had arranged herself protectively on the far side of her sister, giving Sophie the warmer place next to Olivia. What a brave little champion she was.

‘Go to sleep now, girls,’ she said, blowing out the candle.

‘Thank you, Miss Overton,’ Elizabeth whispered into the dark.

‘You are very welcome, sweetheart. Sleep well.’

As soon as she settled herself on the pillow, the four-year-old Sophie snuggled close to her warmth.

As she tried to recapture sleep, the unfamiliar presence of two little girls at her back, Olivia thought that perhaps she had been meant to come to Somers Abbey. She was no longer in a position to write to Members of Parliament about the great political and social causes of the day. But reduced as her circumstances had become, she could still help two small beings who were even more lost and alone than she was.

A wave of compassion displaced, for a moment, her simmering anger. After this incident, she was even less impressed with the housekeeper who ran Somers Abbey—and its deliberately distant master.

Both were going to get a piece of her mind in the morning.

Chapter Four

Despite her assurance that Elizabeth did not need to concern herself with the housekeeper, the little girl woke Olivia well before daylight. ‘Miss Overton, we must go back to our room. Before Mrs Wallace comes up and finds out we came here.’

The poor child was obviously afraid of the housekeeper—and small wonder, if she were threatened with a beating for any small infraction of the woman’s rules. After lighting a candle, Olivia turned to reassure her.

But the worry etched on the child’s face made it quite clear she didn’t trust the new governess to protect her, despite the fact that Olivia had rescued them last night. Her lack of confidence in the person appointed to look out for her was not surprising, considering that the adult who should have cared for the children had instead sent them across an ocean to live with a stranger.

A stranger who then consigned them into the charge of a woman who beat small children and was unconcerned that they were cold and lost, Olivia thought, her anger against both the housekeeper and her employer reviving.

Not wishing to increase their anxiety by keeping them in her room, she said, ‘Very well, I’ll take you back to the nursery. But I’m bringing the counterpane with us, so you may stay warm until I can obtain suitable clothing and bedding.’

Elizabeth’s eyes went wider. ‘But Mrs Wallace will see your blanket! She will know right away it isn’t ours.’

‘I’ll tell her I came to check on you in the night and found the nursery too cold for you to sleep in with just a cotton blanket. Since I didn’t know where more blankets were kept, I brought you mine. And please believe me, I am quite capable of dealing with any objections Mrs Wallace might raise. So, ready? Let’s get you back down the hallway before your toes freeze!’

After hurrying the little girls back to the nursery and draping the counterpane over their two beds, Olivia brought the candle over to the dresser and once again inspected its contents. Though the cotton undergarments and dresses were all of excellent quality, they had obviously been intended for wearing in a tropical climate. She didn’t discover anything made of wool or even linen. ‘We shall have to get you heavier clothing, too, at least until the weather is sufficiently warm.’

‘Does it ever get warm in England?’ Elizabeth asked.

Compared to what she knew of weather in the tropics, the child had a point. ‘Probably never as warm as you were accustomed to at home, but we do have pretty, sunny summer days sometimes. Now, wrap up tight! I’ll get dressed and be back before Mrs Wallace arrives.’

Sophie gave her sister an anxious look, but both obediently huddled down in their beds. Girding herself for the confrontation to come, Olivia paced back to her chamber, threw on her garments and returned to the nursery.

Just as dawn was lighting the sky, Olivia heard the maid’s footfalls in the hallway. Stepping into the corridor, she said, ‘Good morning, Mary. Bring my breakfast tray in here, won’t you? I will eat with the girls.’

‘If you please, miss,’ the maid said. Her eyes widened as she entered, no doubt noting the forbidden counterpane draped across the beds. ‘I’ll bring the girls’ tray up in a trice.’

‘Thank you. And would you tell Mrs Wallace I would like to speak with her at her earliest convenience?’

Mary’s gaze travelled from Olivia to the counterpane covering the girls’ beds and back. Setting down Olivia’s tray, she gave her a nervous smile. ‘Yes, miss. I can take that coverlet back to your room on my way.’

Olivia returned the smile. ‘That’s kind of you, but it shall remain here until the children are provided with adequate blankets of their own.’

The maid stared. ‘Are you sure about that, miss?’

Evidently it wasn’t just her two charges who feared the housekeeper. ‘Quite sure. Indeed, that is what I wish to speak with Mrs Wallace about.’

The maid hesitated, as if she meant to say something, then shook her head. ‘As you wish, miss.’

After the maid walked out, Elizabeth whispered, ‘Mrs Wallace is not going to be happy with you.’

‘Probably not. But that’s all right, because I am not happy with her, either.’

Olivia was able to finish her coffee, toast and cheese and assist the girls to dress before she heard the housekeeper’s light step in the hallway. No doubt Mrs Wallace had deliberately delayed responding to her summons, intent upon putting the new employee in her place.

However, a governess occupied a unique position within a noble household. Being gently born, she was not part of the staff below stairs or under the housekeeper’s authority. A fact Olivia suspected she was about to have to prove.

Which was fine with her. After the way the children had been treated, and the slovenly condition of her chamber, she was quite prepared for a confrontation.

Mrs Wallace walked into the nursery, spied the coverlet over the beds and frowned. ‘Miss Overton, what is the counterpane from your bedchamber doing here?’

‘The girls were cold when I came in to check on them this morning. Not knowing where the linens are kept, I brought in my own coverlet to keep them warm until I could have you bring them thicker blankets.’

Anger flaring in the woman’s eyes, she turned her gaze accusingly on the girls. With a whimper, Sophie cowered behind her sister.

Looking back at Olivia, she said, ‘As I’m sure you’ve noticed, Miss Overton, the household is living in...reduced straits. The children are newcomers to England, and will soon become adjusted to our climate. I have no household funds to spare for such frivolities as extra blankets.’

Though Elizabeth remained protectively in front of her sister, she looked nearly as scared as Sophie. The fear on their faces raised Olivia’s simmering anger several more degrees.

One of us is going to yield and it won’t be me, she thought. But no point terrifying the children by having them witness what promises to be an unpleasant exchange.

‘Perhaps you will accompany me to my chamber so we may discuss this further.’

Mrs Wallace opened her lips, obviously intending to refuse. Olivia fixed on her the hard, unwavering stare that had, in the past, reduced impudent housemaids and a few insolent footmen to silence. ‘Very well,’ she said at last. ‘I wouldn’t wish to embarrass you in front of the children.’

‘Nor I, you. Shall we?’

As soon as they reached Olivia’s room, Mrs Wallace said, ‘Let me put some things straight right away. The household, and all household supplies, are my responsibility and I won’t have you interfering in my realm. Besides, it’s ridiculous, indulging a pair of orphans like that.’

‘The welfare of girls is my realm, and I shall “interfere” wherever necessary to ensure it. I’m not demanding you provide them satin quilts and eiderdown pillows. Just thick woollen blankets of sufficient warmth to make comfortable two small children brought up in the tropics and unused to English weather.’

‘Cotton blankets are what have always been used in the nursery.’

‘Well, now it shall be using woollen ones.’

Pausing, the housekeeper scanned Olivia up and down, her gaze scornful. ‘I understand you grew up in a fine house before your...change in circumstances. You should realise at a glance, having seen something of Somers Abbey, that I don’t have a fraction of the funds or servants necessary to properly maintain a dwelling of this size. We all have to make do.’

‘I should think there are enough servants to make sure that the few rooms that are occupied—like this one—are in clean and orderly condition.’

Mrs Wallace gave her a thin smile. ‘At Somers Abbey, servants clean their own rooms.’

Olivia gritted her teeth against the sharp reply she wanted to make. If the woman thought she could cow or embarrass her over her loss of status, she was in for a disappointment. ‘If you will supply me with the requisite supplies, I shall bring this chamber up to the standard I expect. I shall still need woollen blankets for the girls, of course. Or must I take up that matter with the Colonel?’

‘I would certainly not disturb him over such a trifling matter,’ she retorted—and then stopped abruptly. Her smile broadening, the housekeeper continued, ‘If you think the matter important enough, by all means discuss it with him. Good day, Miss Overton.’

‘It certainly is important enough for me to “disturb” him,’ Olivia snapped furiously as she strode past the housekeeper and down the passageway. Hoping she wouldn’t get lost in the maze of hallways, she retraced her steps to the front hallway and found the door leading down to the kitchens.

‘Mansfield!’ she called as she walked into the servants’ hall. ‘Where are you? You must convey me to the master at once!’

Eight years of running an aristocratic household must have rung in her voice, for when the butler popped out of the pantry, he didn’t offer even a token protest. ‘This way, Miss Overton.’

Carefully, Hugh walked over to his desk and lowered himself in the chair, his mouth as dry as road dust. A quick sideways glance towards the nearly empty whisky bottle on the desk set off the hammer-on-anvil throbbing in his head again. His stomach roiling, he sank his head into his hands.

He hadn’t intended to drink that much whisky last night—or to spend the night on the sofa in his library. But then, in the early evening after he’d returned to the manor, Mansfield had pleaded with him to come up to the west bedchamber wing and inspect the outermost room, where he feared a leak had begun around the chimney. Reaching that room meant that Hugh was forced to walk right past the nursery.

He’d tried to shut his ears, but he’d heard it anyway—the soft murmur of a childish voice emanating from within the schoolroom. The timbre of the voice, the remembered blue, blue eyes of his cousin’s girls, brought the vision back with searing clarity.

Drew, chattering to his ayah in the nursery of the cantonment house...jumping up with a shout and coming to the doorway for a hug as Hugh looked in on him before leaving for duty.

Though he’d immediately fought to suppress the memories, the flashback had beat against the doors behind which he bottled up all his still-unresolved guilt and grief. Memories made even harder to suppress after he met with the girls’ new governess—the managing Miss Overton, who was not at all meek and mild. Who had not hesitated to interrupt or question him.

He’d initially been amused by her admission of her controlling nature, before its implications registered. For the last week, he’d done a fair job of avoiding his wards, even at times forgetting they occupied the schoolroom. He had a feeling that Miss Overton was going to question him every time she thought there was a problem with her charges.

Hell and damnation, that was why he’d hired a governess—to assume oversight of the girls so he would have to deal with them as little as possible. If Miss Overton expected to continually plague him with her opinions or question him over the girls’ treatment, he would have to disabuse her of that notion as soon as possible.