My Lady Governess (Zebra Regency Romance) Read online

  Sometimes Elinor took the midday meal below with the other adults; sometimes she joined the children. Then, the twins would be put down for naps—not without protest—and Elinor would accompany Anne to the music room to give the girl a lesson on the pianoforte. Anne, of course, had not the training and practice her mother showed, but she had genuine feeling for her music. Anne still treated the new governess with less warmth than the others did, though she had shed a few of her reservations. She was cooperative and actually welcomed the music lessons.

  Knowing full well that most men of the ton spent as little time with their offspring as possible, Elinor was surprised at the interest shown by the marquis. Indeed, he seemed to guard his regularly scheduled time with his children almost jealously. In the afternoon, when their lessons were finished, he would take the twins out in the gig, driving into the village or about the estate, or perhaps he would take them for a stroll in the gardens.

  Sometimes Anne accompanied them, but often this was the time she spent with her mother in that lady’s chambers or in the drawing room. Elinor had learned early on that the presence of the marchioness at the Abbey was rather a “seasonal” event. The beautiful Frenchwoman preferred Town life, though she usually left her daughter at the Abbey “so as not to cause instability in a child’s life.” Elinor was of the opinion that her concern for stability conveniently allowed the marchioness to ignore some of her responsibilities to her daughter. A few idle comments in conversations between the duchess and her daughter-in-law suggested that Gabrielle had been extremely disappointed when she produced a mere girl, instead of the next Marquis of Trenville and eventual heir to a dukedom.

  In any event, Elinor thought, Anne must sense her mother’s latent disappointment and indifference. Elinor’s heart went out to this child who was the same age she had been when she lost her mother. How much worse it must be for Anne whose mother was still a presence in her life, but just did not seem to care.

  There was only so much a governess could do about this situation, but Elinor resolved to do all in her power to see that Anne was not unduly hurt—at least so long as the child was in her care. Knowing what solace it could offer, she encouraged Anne’s interest in music. She also made a point of praising the girl, both to build Anne’s confidence and to acquaint others, especially the child’s mother, with how worthy she was.

  Several days had passed with little substantive communication between the governess and her employer. Then, one morning at breakfast, he required an accounting.

  “I trust all goes well with the schoolroom set,” he said, laying aside his reading as she took a seat.

  “Quite well, my lord. We are plotting a course to sail around the world.”

  “Bess and Geoffrey seem a bit young for advanced levels of geography.”

  “I agree. But they are responding well to questions about how children might live in other parts of the world.”

  “I see . . .” he said, his voice indicating he did not see at all.

  “You know: how other children dress, the games they play, how they live. We can touch on different cultures without too much business of latitude and longitude or prevailing wind patterns.”

  “I see.” And this time he did. “Sounds appropriate.”

  “We are having great fun—and, I hope, learning in the process. Anne is a help; she is quite eager in researching various locations.”

  “You seem to get on well with the three of them.”

  “I think so. Bess and Geoffrey are at that eager-to-please stage when the teacher is always a genius.”

  “And Anne?”

  “Anne is more cautious,” she said hesitantly. “She seems to be waiting—”

  “Waiting? For what?”

  “I think to see if she should invest her trust.”

  “Anne had a difficult time with her last governess. We thought it best that you form your own impression before saying anything of previous problems.”

  “She does not hold a very high opinion of governesses in general,” Elinor said with a laugh. “But we are working through that.”

  “How?”

  “She loves music. I think it is helping her cope with her feelings and anxieties.”

  “The last governess described her as bossy, rebellious, and sulky,” Adrian said bluntly.

  “She does like to be the one in charge, but I really think ...” Her voice trailed off as—too late—she thought better of sharing her view of the situation. She recalled Harriet Palmer’s warning to her.

  “Yes? You really think ... come on, Miss Palmer—out with it,” he commanded.

  “I think Anne desperately needs to feel wanted, needed,” she said in a rush.

  “I am not sure I know what you mean.” His voice had gone decidedly cool. “She is certainly not neglected. She is included in everything involving my own children.”

  “Sometimes a child’s perception of herself or a situation has little to do with reality. It seems to me that Anne’s tendency to direct and control stems from feelings of inadequacy.” Oh, lord. Now she had done it. Why had she not just left the lid on this particular container?

  He was quiet for several minutes, apparently mulling over what she had said.

  “Hmm. Do you have a remedy then?”

  “Well, not precisely a remedy. But I do have suggestions.”

  “Somehow I thought you might,” he said, the ease back in his voice and a twinkle in his eyes.

  “I believe she needs to have her self-confidence bolstered whenever the opportunity presents itself.”

  “And...”

  “And perhaps something that is hers alone to care for. A pet perhaps? One of the first things Anne ever said to me was that Uncle Adrian was going to allow her to have a pony.”

  “Yes. I did promise her that. You truly believe it will help?”

  “At the very least, it could do no harm.”

  “I will look into it.”

  Adrian set himself to enjoying the few weeks he would have at Whitsun Abbey before government business again dragged him off to London or the Continent. Meanwhile, a courier arrived every few days with dispatches. After each arrival, Adrian retreated to his library for a considerable time to decode and respond to the messages. When the marquis emerged, the courier would be sent on his way again. Occasionally, Thomas Huntington was asked to join him in drafting some document.

  One day as the two were working individually in the library, Adrian at his desk, Huntington at a large library table, Adrian seemed to be struggling with a particular message.

  “Anything I can help you with?” Huntington asked.

  “Eh? ... er ... no.” Adrian seemed to have forgotten he was not alone. “No, thanks. This must be encoded and I am just having a bit of trouble trying to phrase it so that neither the Russians nor the Austrians will misunderstand when it is decoded in Vienna.”

  “Teach me the code and I’ll do it for you,” Huntington joked, for both knew the code was known to only seven persons in the government—and two of those were negotiating in Vienna.

  “Would that I could! You are often better at turning a phrase than I,” Adrian responded.

  “Are the reports we hear and read true regarding the Congress?” Huntington asked, his tone conversational.

  “I’m afraid so. The victorious allies are no nearer an agreement on disposition of Napoleon’s empire than they were in April when he was banished to Elba. I would not hold much hope for a timely decision from the group gathering in Vienna.”

  “Nobody trusts anybody else, I take it?”

  “You have the right of it,” Adrian said. “That—and the French representative, Talleyrand, is turning out to be more clever than anyone expected.”

  “Vienna must be the gayest city on the continent these days.” There was a wistful note in Huntington’s voice.

  “I am sure it is. Half of Europe’s aristocrats have gathered there for parties and balls and routs. They feed like sharks on tidbits of gossip. Hard t
o tell where social intrigues end and political intrigues begin. I was damned glad to get away—even before the Congress convened.” Adrian sanded the document and reached for the sealing wax.

  “Will you be returning soon?”

  “Perhaps ... after the New Year. At least to Paris to confer with our ambassador there.”

  “Ah, yes. The inimitable Wellington.”

  There was a knock at the door and at Adrian’s call to “Enter,” Miss Palmer did little more than stick her head around the door.

  “You asked me to tell you when the children were finished with lessons today, my lord,” she said.

  “Yes. We have planned an excursion into the village. Would you please inform Nurse to have them ready in, say, twenty minutes?” Adrian asked with a glance at a clock on the mantel.

  “Certainly, my lord.” Her head disappeared.

  “Oh, Miss Palmer,” he called. The head reemerged, the eyes questioning. “If you would care to accompany us, you would be most welcome.”

  “Thank you, my lord. I should like that very much.”

  When the door clicked shut, Adrian found Huntington looking at him with a pronounced grin on his face.

  “Getting cozy with the new governess, are we?” the secretary teased.

  “I would not think a trip to the village with three chattering youngsters would afford much in the way of ‘coziness,’” Adrian replied, annoyed that he was bothering to explain. That was what came of employing fellows who had known one in short coats.

  “You never know,” Huntington said, wiggling his eyebrows lasciviously. “She’s not a bad looker, that one.”

  “You forget yourself, Huntington. She is also in my employ and will be treated properly,” Adrian said chillingly.

  “Yes, my lord!” Huntington’s knowing grin did not sit well with the marquis, but Adrian chose to ignore the other man’s impudence.

  Why had he asked her to come along?

  Because, he answered himself, she has been here for over two weeks and has yet to leave the estate. Even a governess deserves an outing once in a while. And you will not mind in the least being in her company for a couple of hours, now will you? Exuberant children or no.

  Goodness! Elinor told herself, had anyone suggested a few weeks ago she would be excited by the prospect of traipsing about a country village, she would have laughed them quiet. Now, here she was, happy as a frog in a bog, as Peter would say. The question was, was she so happy to have a change in her routine—or was it the idea of spending this time in the company of her employer?

  She and Anne were seated in the landau across from the marquis and the twins. The children were, as children are wont to be, uninhibited and full of questions, observations, and not-so-subtle suggestions about what to see and do in the village. Occasionally, the marquis would glance at Miss Palmer to share adult amusement at the antics of the little people. Each time he caught her eyes, Elinor felt a ripple of pleasure sweep through her.

  “Papa, may we see the shark? Please?” Geoffrey asked.

  “Pooh! Who wants to see that old thing?” Anne objected. “I want to choose some pretty shells at Mr. George’s shop.”

  “A shark?” Elinor inquired. “Surely not from these waters?”

  “No.” Adrian smiled. “Actually, Geoffrey refers to the skeletal remains of a shark that some ship’s captain brought from the South Seas many years ago.”

  “Just some old fish bones.” Anne gave a superior sniff.

  “No. ’Tis truly a wonder, Miss Palmer,” Geoffrey said seriously. “Please, Papa.”

  “If we are to show Miss Palmer all the sights of our village we shall certainly see the shark, Geoffrey. And, yes, Anne, you may choose some pretty shells. And what do you want to see, poppet?” He directed this last to Bess.

  “Toffee.” She giggled.

  “I should have known. The sweet tooth in the family,” her father noted.

  The village was larger than Elinor had expected and cleaner than she remembered seacoast villages being when she had visited others with her father and brother. She commented on its size.

  “West Benton is larger than most of its neighbors,” Trenville agreed. “Local farmers trade here and the harbor accommodates small fishing boats nicely. Not to mention the occasional smuggler.” He added the last in a rueful tone.

  “The area does seem rich in resources for the table,” Elinor said.

  “Ah, here is our first stop—the fish market. Here you will find the venerable bones of one poor old shark.” As he aided in her descent from the carriage and took her elbow to help her over the raised entrance, Elinor felt warmed where he touched her.

  The fish market, a large barnlike building, was nearly overwhelming in its impact on the nose, Elinor thought. Inside were several large tables with raised edges at which men and women were working scaling, boning, and filleting fish of varying sizes and species.

  Anne wrinkled her nose, but turned down the option of waiting at the door for the others.

  “See! There it is!” Geoffrey exclaimed. “Isn’t it just the most fearsome thing?”

  Along one wall was displayed the full skeleton of a shark that must have been ten or twelve feet long when it plied the waters of some southern sea.

  “Indeed it is,” Miss Palmer agreed. “Those teeth look very sharp.”

  “Come ta see me shark again, have ye, me young lord?” An older man addressed Geoffrey. He was a strong-looking fellow with a splotchy white apron wrapped around considerable girth. His round face was clean-shaven except for a grizzled fringe running from ear to ear. His skin, too, looked grizzled—weathered by years of sun and wind. His blue eyes twinkled with welcoming delight. “Yer pa was just as fascinated with that thing as ye be when he were yer age.”

  “Don’t you be telling all my secrets now, Jake,” the marquis said with a sheepish smile. He introduced Miss Palmer to the fisherman.

  “His lordship used to go out on me boat wi’ us,” the older man told her. “Yuh’d a made a right smart fisherman, my lord.” Jake chortled at his own joke. “Mayhap this young feller would like to go out sometime.”

  “Oh, Papa, may I? Please? May I?”

  “We will see,” his father said, adopting the tone of parents who, since the beginning of time, have been reluctant to commit themselves on the spot.

  The children wandered around among the workers, clearly fascinated by the whole scene, especially when they witnessed the use of large, dangerous-looking knives. Elinor tagged along, keeping an eye to the safety of her charges and ever aware of the man at her side. She noted that Trenville addressed many of the workers by name and they seemed thoroughly at ease with him.

  “May we see the fish ponds, Papa? They are just in the back,” Geoffrey said.

  “Shark’s teeth are not enough, eh? Miss Palmer would you care to see the fish ponds?” Trenville gave her a look of mock conspiracy.

  “Well ... since we are here.” She pretended reluctance and winked at Geoffrey who grinned back at her.

  The ponds were set some distance from the main building. Elinor welcomed the relatively fresher air as they walked out to them.

  “See how big these fishes are?” Geoffrey’s excitement was hard to contain.

  “What kind of fish are these, Geoffrey?” Elinor asked, knowing full well what they were, but wanting to give the little boy his moment of importance.

  “In this pond are trout, and in that one over there are carp. Our village has both freshwater and ocean fish,” he said. It seemed to Elinor that he probably echoed some grown-up. She smiled indulgently and again caught her employer’s eye.

  “Come, now,” the marquis said. “Let us be about finding those shells and some toffee.”

  As the children skipped ahead, Trenville turned to her.

  “Thank you,” he said. When she looked at him inquiringly, he went on, “For allowing him to demonstrate his vastly superior knowledge.”

  “Of course,” she murmured, pleased that he h
ad noticed. “Geoffrey wanted to feel grown up.”

  In the end, each of the children was accorded a chance to feel important. Anne spent some time choosing just the right pretty shells for a necklace—or perhaps they were for a seashore picture—or perhaps she would just keep them in her treasure box. Then it was on to the bakery, which carried an enticing assortment of candies. By then, of course, Bess was not alone in seeking to satisfy a sweet tooth.

  The wind picked up as the afternoon wore on, but there were a good many people about the street. Some had the look of purposeful intent signaling “important business” and others appeared to share the leisure of the marquis and his small ensemble, looking in windows, eyeing wares displayed outside doorways on tables, and stopping to share gossip now and then. Elinor drew her shawl more closely around her and thought nostalgically of her own village in Lincolnshire.

  As the five of them returned to the carriage, several red-coated militia men trotted their horses down the street. Adrian swept his daughter into his arms and Elinor grabbed a hand of each of the others to hurry them out of the traffic. The militia men were nearly upon them when the leader of the group, sporting a captain’s insignia, called out.

  “Trenville? It is you.” The captain halted his horse, dismounted, and offered Adrian his hand. “Nathan Olmstead. We met some weeks ago at Whitehall. This is a fortuitous meeting. I have orders to contact you.”

  Adrian looked at the man quizzically a moment, then took his hand and said, “Yes, of course. I recall the meeting.”

  “We are assigned to the barracks in Torquay.” The captain included the other riders in a gesture. “Since Bonaparte no longer poses a threat, the militia is charged with the task of trying to control smuggling.”

  “That is likely to prove a rather daunting task,” Adrian observed dryly.

  “Without a doubt. But we are to make a preliminary investigation of all the villages in this area, especially those with harbors and inlets—and to contact the principal landowners to seek their cooperation.”

  “Perhaps you could come to the Abbey tomorrow to discuss this business,” Adrian suggested. “I must return these children and their governess home now.”