Extraordinary Tales of Regency Love: A Clean & Sweet Regency Historical Romance Collection

by Fanny Finch

  Agnes felt gripped with panic, a fear of the unknown that chewed through her. She was not prepared for this.

  But she would have to adapt and learn. After all, it was her job to deliver whatever service the duke demanded of her. Within reason. But was this within reason? Or was it akin to asking a farmer to raise cattle with no land and no fodder?

  Georgia climbed slightly up the side of the shelf, hanging on for dear life as she grabbed a book and threw it down. Drawing a breath, Agnes made her way towards the girl and plucked her from her perch, placing her gently back on the ground.

  "Hello Georgia, I am Miss Hubbard," she said. "I shall be your new governess."

  Georgia did not speak, she simply pulled another book off the shelf and walked up to Agnes, holding it out to her sharply and grunting. Agnes did not need to speak toddler to know what was being asked of her. She took the book and guided the girl to a chair, where they sat down, opening it. The duke watched as Agnes and Georgia sat, Agnes reading to the girl, finger skimming under each letter to guide her eyes.

  This was surreal. Nothing like the life she had expected to lead. She had not even imagined a reality where she might become a governess. But it could work. It would work. After all, it had to.

  Chapter 4

  "I am concerned about how little she talks, sir, and how poorly she reads," Agnes said with a soft sigh. "She does not even follow my hand."

  "She has plenty of time to learn," the duke said with a grin. "She is doing so well already. It will take no time at all!"

  Agnes was not so sure. She knew that most children spoke a lot more than this by the age of four, and that at that age most were at least following hands and speaking letters, even if they could not read any words yet. This girl had not been taught, of course, but perhaps if she did not receive instruction by a certain age she could not learn? This felt terribly experimental.

  Agnes said nothing, but the duke must have noticed the concern in her eyes.

  "Children learn at different speeds," he reassured Agnes. "Do you recall learning to speak, or read, or walk? It's a process."

  "I do, in fact, sir," she said. "I recall learning to read with my own governess as a child. I am not sure that a lack of instruction would benefit a girl of her age. She needs more guidance."

  "Can you not guide gently, without the usual carrot and rod approach of traditional teachers?" he asked. "I never had a governess, nor a teacher, and I turned out perfectly well and capable."

  Agnes refrained from making a remark on the duke's overly relaxed disposition and poor house management skills. After all, it was not her place. And besides, perhaps these were not his fault entirely. Perhaps it was a lazy housekeeper or a loss of members of staff. Or even, in his grief, his focus had lapsed. She could not judge him.

  Georgia, on the other hand, was hard not to judge. Although the child was, well, a child, Agnes had certain expectations of a girl of that age, and none of them were being met. By age four many children could read a little, and most could most certainly speak and obey rules. Agnes was not an expert on children, but she really felt that Georgia should be doing more at four. After all, what could a governess do for her? What good was a governess when the child had not been taught the essentials of civilized behavior and education?

  In that respect, Agnes was actually sort of pleased to know that she did not have to educate the girl. She was not expected to play the role of teacher, only of guardian, guidance, and a friend. Which was a challenge in and of itself, but much less pressure. After all, when one was responsible for education, a failure could mean ruining a child's life. When one was only responsible for companionship, a failing meant, at the very worst, losing a friendship.

  Getting to know a child was less like getting to know a person and more like spending your day chasing a small puppy. Georgia did not speak except in peculiar animalistic grumbles, almost added for emphasis where needed, rather than to communicate thoughts.

  Georgia did not behave in a civilized manner, instead treating furniture as a climbing frame and Agnes as some sort of a mechanism to hold books and toys for her, rather than as a human being.

  Georgia had nothing in common with her governess and did not care, enjoying her time and expecting Agnes to chase after her instead.

  Georgia sorely needed structure and discipline, someone to tell her what to do, someone to send her to her room or at the very least say 'no' to her. Georgia needed a mother and a teacher, not a governess.

  Agnes knew she had no other option. But the more time she spent with Georgia, the less appreciation she had for toddlers. She wasn't sure how anyone managed. Toddlers were loud, untidy, boisterous, and for some unknown reason perpetually sticky. Why the Good Lord made humans go through such a primitive set of behaviors before reaching adulthood, Agnes did not know.

  Of course they were sweet. But... Agnes had not managed to prepare herself for their temperaments at all. She had expected they would be a little more civilized, a little more manageable, a little more like the books and her own education had suggested. Not quite so dramatic. Agnes, as an only child with no experience with young children, felt entirely unprepared for any of this. All her training fell apart far too often.

  It was as though they were purposefully designed to be unbearable, to clash with society, to break the rules around them and damage all kinds of property. It was as though they had been left intentionally unable to speak so that nobody could chastise them or demand an explanation. It was not as though one could physically stop their every move, but neither could one negotiate with them. They were more difficult to manage than any animal Agnes could imagine. At least with animals, one either loved or despised them. With a toddler, one found oneself connecting with the child one minute, and then frustrated and tired of its antics mere seconds later. It was becoming distressing.

  But of course, it was easier when it was your own. Then you could decide how to discipline them, what to ask of them. You could choose what path in life you wished to lead them down, how to get them there, and what the pay-off would be.

  Perhaps, had Agnes raised this girl from birth, she would be better behaved, more educated, a more polite, balanced individual who aimed to please. Or at least not as perpetually in motion, violent, or disobedient. At the very least, Agnes would be used to the girl and know what to expect, how to persuade her to behave, and how to discipline her when she did wrong.

  As it stood, Agnes had to endure the trials of a child without any of the benefits or even the authority. She had to simply watch as the girl did whatever she pleased and hope, pray, that the duke, ever watchful, would tell the child to stop, chastise her, and show her how to behave like a lady. After all, Agnes was not allowed to.

  So she did. She watched as Georgia clambered all over the sofa and left dirty footprints on it. She watched as Georgia opened the window, letting a stiff breeze send all manner of papers flying and inviting flies in. She watched as Georgia took an inkwell and began to make handprints on the books, many of which were no doubt expensive and rare. She watched as Georgia threw books to the floor, all permitted by the duke, of course. She could not see how that was any way to raise a child.

  Glancing over at the duke, Agnes realized she had to do something. Even if he would not. Even if he fired her immediately. She could not allow the girl to go through life believing herself immune to consequence.

  Agnes stepped in and closed the window, brushed the mud off the sofa with her hand, and collected the strewn papers. She then took the books which Georgia had stained and laid them by the window, in the sunlight, to dry out and prevent any further damage. Finally, she took the inkwell from Georgia and, reluctantly using her own skirt, wiped the ink from the girl's hands, much to her squealing protests.

  As soon as Agnes released the child's stained, but at least no longer dripping hands, she ran to the duke and threw herself into his lap with a plaintive shriek, turning only to glare at Agnes in a way that suggested she was prepared to thro
w a full tantrum over the cruelty inflicted upon her by this strange woman. This was a girl who, it seemed, had literally never been told to stop, to calm down, to behave herself in public.

  "How are you enjoying getting to know one another?" he asked gently, embracing the girl closely. He was coddling her too much.

  Agnes simply nodded. "I suppose the arrangement might work, though I would much prefer to know what sort of treatment she needs to ensure she acts like a lady."

  "So long as you do not strike her, shout at her, or force her to do tasks, she is fine," he replied.

  Agnes pursed her lips. No striking or shouting was perfectly alright. Agnes was not sure she could have summoned the sort of willpower needed to harm such a sweet child, no matter how frustrating she became. Agnes understood those restrictions and was pleased to be in such a civilized household where the girl was treated with some respect as a human being. But surely there were times when a child had to be seated to study, or physically moved to a new room? Especially with one as nonverbal as Georgia, one as poorly behaved as Georgia.

  The duke did not notice Agnes's expression, he had turned to his child. "And you, Georgie? How do you like her?"

  "She mean," Georgia said, with a little sniff.

  The duke's eyes lit up suddenly and he embraced Georgia even harder. "That's okay, some people are."

  The girl did not say anything else, but Agnes was surprised. She had not thought the girl could speak. Perhaps life would be a little simpler after all. If the child could speak, and would speak, at least with the duke, then some communication could occur.

  But the girl's words were also a problem for Agnes. However innocent and sweet they were, it was still an accusation. Agnes had been mean to the apple of the duke's eye, and she would probably pay.

  After a few more seconds embracing Georgia, the duke sent her off with a maid to change her ink-stained clothes.

  As the child left the room, Agnes prepared herself for a tirade about her supposed meanness. His eyes met hers and she looked to the floor, afraid and ashamed. For a second, silence lingered.

  "So, are you prepared to continue looking after her? She is not too much trouble for you, is she?" he asked.

  Agnes stared, slightly baffled.

  The duke must have interpreted her silence as something else. "I am prepared to increase your wages to persuade you to stay. How much do you want?"

  Agnes shook her head. "I beg your pardon, sir, but I thought the girl was not a fit for me? She seems to not enjoy my company. She said I was mean. Is that not a problem?"

  "Not at all. That is wonderful. She has not spoken to me in months," he said. Agnes could see tears shimmering in his eyes. "Those were literally the first words I've heard from her in so long. I never thought I would hear her voice again."

  Agnes was still frozen. She was not sure what to say, what she could say to this. She wanted to reassure him, but that was, once again, beyond her present station. So much was beyond her station.

  "Will you stay?" he asked. "The offer of the pay rise still stands."

  "It shall not be required, sir. I have not done enough to require a pay rise," she said. "I am simply grateful for the employment, sir."

  "You have helped so much already. She may call you mean, but she must like you to feel so comfortable around you," he explained. "Children may be honest as they grow older, but babies do not like to offend people they do not trust or like. They do not want to anger an adult, who is bigger and stronger than they are. Insulting you is a sure sign she likes you."

  Agnes smiled and curtsied. She did not know what else to do, but at least she was confident that would be an acceptable and appropriate response. She felt a wave of relief as she knew she was acting appropriately. This was, surprisingly, the most difficult part of her new position: not knowing if she was acting properly.

  "I shall see you later," he finally said, standing and wiping a tear from the corner of his eye. "But thank you. And you shall have an increased salary."

  And with that, he left.

  Agnes was not sure what to make of this. On the one hand, she was glad. But on the other she was confused. What could she do for this family? How could she help a family that had clearly been torn apart, a girl who was clearly so traumatized?

  The duke had never been married, but men did not bear children. He had to know who Georgia's mother was, and where she was. And yet the woman was nowhere to be seen. It must be very shameful for them to live like that. At least Georgia would not have to carry the scars of such a childhood. Georgia could be shown how to be a lady.

  And that was Agnes's duty. To ensure Georgia became a lady despite her absent mother. Agnes had managed, and Georgia could. Perhaps the girl could be taught to say her mother had died. That way she could avoid the shame. At least then nobody would question her heritage, her respectability. There was still time to help her.

  And Agnes could not only teach her how to be respectable, but how to socialize as well. All of her most recent lessons could be integrated. They would benefit the girl greatly.

  But then there was the question as to why she was with her father and not her mother. Even if the child claimed her mother had died, that would not make it true. Unless it was. Perhaps the girl's mother had passed away. Perhaps the duke was not her father, although the family resemblance was there. But if her mother had passed away, why would she be with the duke and not her actual father? No, something was amiss there. Agnes knew, deep down, that the most likely situation was that the girl was the duke's illegitimate child, abandoned by her mother.

  What a tragic life that could have been. Georgia was probably incredibly lucky to have people like the duke and Agnes on her side.

  Chapter 5

  Agnes awoke the next morning feeling a little more sure of herself. Of course, it would still be hard. But the more she did, the more she knew what to do next. It was like anything in life. It was no different from when she had to learn how to socialize and connect with other people. She had to do the same with Georgia. She had to learn how to socialize and connect with a child.

  She dressed and headed downstairs, wondering when and where breakfast would be, and when she would begin her next lesson, if one could even call it that, with Georgia. But the house seemed deserted. No usual hustle and bustle of servants cleaning the house, opening the windows, preparing breakfast. It was as though the whole house was still fast asleep.

  No. She could see Georgia laughing in the garden with her father. At least they were awake and well, and enjoying their morning, making the most of the rare burst of sunshine that broke through the clouds. The duke, rather than leave the girl to play with servants or to study under a teacher, was very involved with her playtime, taking her out and pushing her on a little wooden swing himself. She barely moved, but with each gentle rock of the swing she squealed in delight and he beamed, seeming to truly enjoy the little girl's happiness. He seemed to love her very much.

  This child had something Agnes had longed for, but never received for herself: a parent who was always present, always caring, always interested in what she was doing and ready to let her play and relax and simply be a child.

  It hurt to realize that this was what she had missed out on, her father being so withdrawn, so eager to travel or spend all day in his library. He had not been a close, affectionate sort of parent. Rather, he had been cold and strict and interested in her welfare as a young woman. Which was good in a sense, but also so very painful when Agnes saw how different it could have been.

  And even so, Agnes saw a scar of her own childhood there. A childhood without a mother, without even speaking of her absence, without any maternal figure. There was some shared experience between the girl and the governess after all, even if it was a sad one. Both lived in homes without female company, without a mother to show them how to be a lady and know right from wrong.

  Watching the girl pick up a fistful of dirt, and the duke laughingly appear to encourage it, Agnes knew that men
could not raise ladies. Even with the best of intentions, they did not understand what they were doing.

  She felt further compelled to help the girl. After all, when a young woman was raised like that, by a father alone, there were many things she missed out on. They missed out on learning about beauty and grace, which mattered so much to men in adult women, but which they failed to instill in girls.

  They missed out on playing dress-up, babies, and houses, which men were often ashamed to do, or simply did not know how to do, having no experience raising babies or preparing a lady's dress. The girls would not even think of such matters unless shown.

  They missed out on the quiet giggles as eligible young men were discussed when they became young women and were already considering their future husbands, which men could not understand, having a somewhat different experience of courting.