Secret Dreams of a Fearless Governess: A Clean & Sweet Regency Historical Romance Novel

by Abby Ayles

  Besides, he was a young man yet. Marriage and children – those were things that naturally came later in life. He was not to be expected to have achieved such goals already.

  “Will you need me to return after dinner, my lord?” Miss Warrick asked, looking expectantly at the large stack of letters still waiting for a response.

  Edmund hesitated. He did wish to press on, but still, he could not overwork her. She must have been tired from her travels, despite the rosy colour in her cheeks.

  “No, Miss Warrick, that will be all for today,” he told her, trying not to feel disappointed at the thought. “You should get some rest after your journey.”

  “Thank you, my lord,” Miss Warrick smiled, her skirt swaying behind her as she departed the room.

  Edmund felt another disappointment, then, as he realised she would have no pretext to return to his room that night.

  Indeed, he had been missing that knowledge that she was watching over him, and it was even difficult to sleep for the first few nights she had been gone. Now, he supposed, they had broken the tradition; she would not return.

  So it was that he felt an immense sense of relief when, later that night after the whole household was asleep, he heard the quiet creak of his door opening. Shortly after there was the familiar squeak of the chair as her weight settled upon it, and then silence.

  Edmund was almost off to sleep when he heard the next sound, something so totally unexpected that he almost opened his eyes.

  It was only extreme self-control that kept him still and silent, and reminded him after a moment to breathe deeply as if in sleep.

  “I have missed you,” Miss Warrick had whispered into the dark room, so quietly that he could almost believe that he had not heard it at all.

  Edmund listened hard, trying to quieten even the sound of his breathing so that he could strain for any more words that she might utter, but none came.

  At last, she rose from her chair and tiptoed back to the door, which creaked in farewell as she left the room.

  Then, at last, Edmund could open his eyes, staring into the darkness and wondering at what he had heard – and in what sense it was meant.

  By the time he fell into dreams, he had himself convinced that she spoke not to him as a person – but to the household as a whole.

  Quite naturally, he knew, she would miss the children, and perhaps even the other servants whom she had grown fond of. She was an industrious woman; thus, it was perhaps even the work itself she had spoken of missing.

  And there was even the thought that crossed his mind, that he had heard nothing at all, or something else entirely.

  Perhaps she had only let out a sigh, and at that moment, his ears conspired to hear something that was not at all there. Yes, perhaps that was it.

  He did not allow himself to entertain the startling and wonderful possibility that she might have been missing him personally, and him alone.

  Chapter 24

  Joanna settled back in to her daily routine with ease.

  It seemed that she had been away for so long while she was at Esther’s home, but the reality was that it was only a week. It could hardly have been expected that much would change in that time, though Samuel and Amy were a little grumpy with her on her return.

  “Miss Warrick,” Samuel said at last, solemn and frowning. “You have to promise to say goodbye when you go again.”

  “No,” Amy cut in. “She must promise not to go away at all.”

  Joanna laughed then, out of love and because she was touched that they were so hurt by the fact that she had not bid them farewell.

  “I have been told, and I have heard you,” she said. “I shall not go away without saying goodbye again.”

  “Or go anywhere,” Amy corrected, without a moment’s pause.

  “I might go somewhere,” Joanna laughed again. “But I promise that you will know before I do.”

  She felt some surprise in her heart to know that she believed she could withhold this promise. For so many months, she had been living in fear of losing her position.

  Recent weeks, however, had left her more comfortable and settled in the household. She felt as if she would at least be given time to pack her bags and make her farewells, and perhaps even serve out a period of notice, if Edmund did decide to dismiss her.

  That was, at least, so long as he never found out about the ball.

  Patience was almost unnervingly sweet and obedient now that she had seen Joanna keep her secret. It was as though she thought she was on to a special formula: that if she was a good girl for her governess, then she could be wicked when her brother came calling.

  At any rate, Joanna was in no rush yet to correct her – not as long as she was behaving well.

  There was one crucial part of her education that Joanna had not tackled yet, and since she was beginning to be presented in society already, she felt it was high time that Patience receive some instruction.

  That was of the running of the household, and to run it correctly, Joanna had always felt that a woman should have a thorough knowledge of all of the tasks expected of her servants.

  So it was that she rose with the early summer dawn towards the end of the week, knowing that Mary, Cook, and Jenkins would have risen to begin their daily chores at the same time. She dressed quickly and hurried to Patience’s room, knocking loudly on the door before she entered.

  “Good morning, Miss Patience, rise and shine,” Joanna said, though her words caught in her throat when she looked at the empty bed.

  This was becoming somewhat of a habit. Patience was, once again, nowhere to be seen.

  Joanna closed the door behind her, thinking for a moment. Then she opened it again, wanting to confirm something that her eyes had registered.

  There it was: Patience’s bed was tidy and well-made, without any sign that it had been lain in. Last time, she had at least made the pretence of sleeping.

  Something about this was different.

  Christopher was home for his leave; he had arrived the day before. Joanna had gladly managed to avoid his presence for the evening, but he had spent some time with the family.

  Had he convinced Patience to get herself into trouble again?

  She could not explain how the sight of that bed sent a chill up her spine, but Joanna felt that something urgent had to be done.

  She could not spend the time to search each room one by one as she had done the night of the ball. The household was already waking, besides, and she would surely attract the attention of the servants. Thus, what better course of action than to enlist their help?”

  “Jenkins!” she called urgently, keeping her voice pitched low so that she would not raise any alarm, as she saw him crossing the main hall.

  He looked up as she hurried down the stairs, her skirt nearly tangling around her feet in her haste.

  “What is it, Miss Warrick? You are pale,” Jenkins said, frowning at her. “Slow down before you tumble.”

  “It’s Miss Patience,” Joanna burst out, almost falling against him as she came to a stop. “She is not in her chamber. I do not believe the bed has been slept in.”

  It was Jenkins’ turn to become pale, the blood draining from his face at her words. “You are sure?”

  “Not sure,” Joanna said. “Only that she is not there, and she should be sleeping still. We ought to search the house in case she woke early.”

  “Quite right,” Jenkins said, his face taking on a business-like expression. “I shall rally Mary and send her to fetch the driver so that he can search the stables and other outhouses. You should go first to Cook. Check that she is not in the kitchen and then go to the schoolroom. Cook is to look through the servants’ quarters. If you find her or no, we shall meet in the main hall.”

  Joanna nodded and rushed away, fairly running towards the kitchens.

  She did not know why her heart was beating so fast, when there was not yet any evidence that the girl was gone. She tried to tell herself that Patience was proba
bly in the library, or strolling down by the lake, or doing something else entirely inappropriate and yet utterly safe.

  “Cook!” Joanna gasped, leaning against the kitchen door for support as she tried to catch her breath.

  Cook was a large red-headed woman named Sarah, who wielded her ladle with such authority that everyone who knew her simply called her by her position. She was perhaps ten years older than Joanna, a maid still, and likely to become a spinster. Her rages were legendary, though they revolved solely around kitchen disasters; at all other times, she was sweet as honey.

  “What is it, dear?” Cook asked, looking down at the bowl of porridge she was stirring. “I’m making breakfast.”

  “It’s Miss Patience,” Joanna said, wincing at the thought of interrupting her cooking – though needs must.

  “She is not in her bed. We are searching the house – Jenkins requested that you check the servants’ quarters, and then meet him in the hall.”

  “Oh,” Cook said, and then a darker look swept over her face. “Oh,” she said again, this time in a far different tone.

  “What is it?” Joanna asked, stepping forward.

  A cold grip of fear had taken over her heart at the sound of that tone.

  “It might not be anything,” Cook said, setting down her ladle with a guilty look.

  “Tell me, Cook, please,” Joanna said. She was trying hard not to snap, but the woman was scaring her.

  “It’s, ah, the little miss,” Cook said, wiping her hands on her apron and avoiding Joanna’s eyes.

  “Well, she seemed so lovestruck, you see, and far be it from me to stop matters of the heart. I thought it was only harmless, nothing would come of it. So I told her I would help.”

  “Help what?” Joanna asked, almost close to screaming now. Could this dumpling of a woman not get the story out any faster?

  “Well, she only wanted to exchange letters with the young man,” Cook said, wringing her hands against the cloth of her apron now.

  “All I had to do was send them to her, and pass his on when they arrived addressed to me.”

  Joanna stared at her for a few moments, letting her words sink in. Could it really be?

  Could it really be what she was thinking?

  “She was writing to Jasper Rivers,” Joanna said, with the certainty of a statement.

  “Yes,” Cook admitted, covering her face with her hands. “You don’t think…?”

  “I do think,” Joanna said, turning on her heel. “I have to go get help. She has run away to be with him.”

  The urgency of the situation had increased tenfold.

  Was Patience out there with Jasper already? Had she been out all night?

  Joanna lifted her skirts now and ran at full speed through the corridor, across the main hall, up the stairs, and right to Christopher’s door.

  There was no longer a moment to lose.

  She banged hurriedly on the wood, hearing a shuffling noise instantly on the other side of the door. He was home, then.

  Christopher pulled to door open and Joanna nearly fell into the room. She had not realised she had been leaning on it, trying to get her breath back.

  “Where is Miss Patience?” she burst out, as soon as she saw him.

  Christopher rubbed his eyes.

  “What?” he asked, his throat scratchy with sleep.

  He had come to the door in only his breeches and at any other time Joanna would have been scandalised. But there was no time even for propriety if Patience’s future was at stake.

  “Your sister. Where is she?” Joanna asked again. “Think. Did you take her anywhere? Or did she tell you she was going?”

  “No,” Christopher said. He yawned, and the scent of alcohol wafted on the air towards Joanna. “Why?”

  “Is Jasper Rivers on leave at the same time as you?” Joanna pressed.

  “Lieutenant Rivers,” Christopher corrected, leaning against the doorframe.

  “Is he on leave?”

  “Yes, of course,” Christopher said. He shifted on his feet and swayed a little. “What’s the problem, little governess?”

  “Miss Patience is missing,” Joanna said, close to tears. “I know she was infatuated with your friend. They have been writing letters to one another. Please, tell me that you know where she is.”

  Christopher looked at her for a moment, and then laughed. “Jasper and my sister?” he asked. “I didn’t know he was the letter-writing type.”

  “Please, my lord,” Joanna begged. “This is important. I fear that she has gone to him.”

  “That sly old dog,” Christopher said, laughing again.

  He almost over-balanced, taking half a step backwards to avoid falling over.

  “You’re drunk,” Joanna said, realising with despair that the alcohol she had smelt on his breath was not just the product of the night prior. It was still in his system.

  “You’re mean,” Christopher countered.

  Joanna stared at him for a moment longer and then gave up.

  It was a lost cause. He was too drunk even to understand the gravity of the situation.

  She spun on her heel, leaving him where he stood, and rushed further along the corridor.

  “Jenkins,” she called over the bannister, no longer caring about keeping her voice down. “Has she been found?”

  “No, Miss Warrick,” Jenkins said, turning from his conversation with the coach driver.

  He looked the picture of paternal concern, his face drawn and pale. Mary stood by, anxiously clutching the hem of her apron.

  “Then I am waking Lord Kelt,” Joanna said. “I believe she has fled the house. Please, talk to Cook. She may have the key to all of this.”

  She turned without waiting for a reply, and flew back towards Edmund’s door.

  She took a brief moment after lifting her hand to hammer at it, feeling her heart pounding so loudly in her chest that surely it alone would be enough to wake him.

  Then she knocked, and shouted his name at the same time, knowing that the time to hesitate was over.

  There was a long pause as she stood there, trembling, waiting for a response. She heard noises inside the room and did not knock again, wishing that Edmund would appear faster.

  At last, he opened the door. He had dressed in a full shirt and suit, although in haste, and his hair was mussed still from sleep.

  He looked at her, and the picture of terror she must have made, and his brows drew over his face in concern.

  “What is it, Miss Warrick?” he asked, glancing into the corridor behind her as if expecting to see the problem made clear.

  “It’s Miss Patience,” Joanna said, the tears fighting more than ever to break from her eyes as her voice cracked. “I think she has run away to be with Jasper Rivers.”

  Chapter 25

  He stared down at the governess, his brain failing to make comprehension of the words she had said for a long moment.

  “Patience,” he repeated finally, turning the words through his own head. “Is run away? To be with Jasper Rivers?”

  “I am sorry,” Miss Warrick said, shaking her head.

  Fresh tears were beginning to roll down her cheeks. Strangely, the sight, which he had thought would injure him greatly, was only something to observe from a state of profound numbness.

  Edmund paused, somehow unable to move for a moment. Thoughts were not crashing through his mind, but rather sailing around loosely, as if in a great void.

  How Father would berate him now, he thought, for losing his sister’s honour as if it were nothing more than a handkerchief to be misplaced.

  “Please, my lord,” Miss Warrick begged him, clearly distressed at his failure to move or speak.

  What she wished for him to do was unclear, but it was enough to stir him into action at once.

  It was as though night turned to day. “We must discover where she has gone,” Edmund said. “Did she leave a note?”

  “No, my lord,” Miss Warrick said, turning to walk alongside
him as he began to stride down the corridor. “We only found that she was gone this morning, with no explanation. But she has been exchanging letters with Rivers – I believe, letters of love.”

  Edmund stopped walking abruptly, turning to face her. “You knew of this?”

  “Only today,” Miss Warrick stammered, her voice faltering. “I – I knew she was enamoured – only thought it was a – a passing fancy…”