The Only Reason for the London Season

by Kristin Vayden

  "If you don't mind—" Mr. Burrows took off his spectacles and leaned forward slightly, his balding head shining. "I have a client that might be interested in hiring you. If you wish, I'll make arrangements for an interview."

  Could she do it? Work? Leave behind all she knew? Carlotta glanced about the parlor, studying the tall windows that overlooked the small gardens. It wasn't grand, but it was home. And if she took a position as governess, she'd be leaving it all behind to a stranger. But what choice did she have?

  "Thank you, Mr. Burrows. I'd appreciate the opportunity."

  ****

  Charles Evermore, Duke of Clairmont

  Carlotta studied the card and swallowed a lump of fear that lodged itself in her throat. Of course she would be interviewing for a position in the devil's lair. That's precisely the kind of luck she was having recently. Not only had her trunks fallen off the carriage on her way to London, resulting in all of her clothes being muddied and some torn, but also, she had caught a cold, causing her to sniffle. Not proper governess behavior, at all. It would be a miracle for her to get this position, but as she studied the name on the card sent from Mr. Burrows, she wondered if maybe God was protecting her. Surely there were other positions that didn't involve bargaining the devil.

  It was well known among the ton and those who gossiped about them, that the Duke of Clairmont was not the type of man to cross. Although deliciously handsome — at least that's what the rumor said — he had a reputation that boasted his arrogant nature and intolerance for women beyond their company in his bedroom — or their bedroom, for that matter. Carlotta's cheeks heated with a blush at simply thinking those words. True, he could have his pick of any of the season's Incomparables, but he wasn't marriage minded. At least yet. His hair was as dark as sin with eyes that were the color of a summer sky. His tall and powerful frame exuded power and dominance, shrinking down all other men in the room. Of course, one cannot always believe the gossip.

  Especially when it said he had kept no less than a dozen mistresses at one time. Certainly that was exaggerated. Nevertheless, the stories about the handsome duke abounded and grew to mammoth proportions. Which was why Carlotta had to summon all her courage to walk up the steps to his home.

  The one question that remained quite a mystery was why the duke needed a governess at all. It was well known he was a confirmed bachelor. Could he have a brood of children born on the wrong side of the blanket? Carlotta highly doubted it, after all, based on the gossip, he didn't seem like the doting father type. No, with his reputation, he'd toss the poor woman unfortunate enough to have gotten pregnant, into the streets. Yes, his soul was a black as his hair. Of course, having never seen the duke in person, Carlotta could only imagine how dark his hair really was.

  She walked to the door and knocked, willing her racing heartbeat to slow its galloping cadence.

  "Yes?" an aged butler inquired.

  "Miss Carlotta Standhope. I'm here to interview for the governess position. I'm here on Mr. Burrows' recommendation," she spoke her practiced words.

  "Yes. Wait a moment." The butler left her on the doorstep, then returned less than a minute later.

  "Mrs. Pott will be conducting your interview in the parlor. If you'll follow me."

  Carlotta tried not to appear too curious as she studied the bachelor lodgings of one of the most notorious rakes of the time. Dark woods covered the walls and rich rugs softened the floors. It was pristine and clean yet dark and brooding all at once. As she glanced about, she decided it had to be from the lack of light. For it being daylight outside, it was quite dark inside.

  The butler opened a door that was slightly ajar and waited for Carlotta to enter. As she did, a plump woman no younger than sixty years greeted her. She was cheery, her cheeks rosy and her smile warm. Carlotta felt a bit more at ease.

  "I'm pleased to meet you, Miss Standhope. You come on excellent recommendation," the woman greeted warmly.

  "Thank you."

  "Where are my manners? Forgive me, darling. I'm Mrs. Pott, his grace's housekeeper. You'll have to excuse me, I'm not accustomed to interviewing governesses. Please, come and sit. Let's have us a chat, shall we?" She gestured to a chair opposite her and Carlotta sat.

  "Murray? Would you please have tea brought up?"

  The butler nodded and disappeared.

  "Now then, why don't we begin with you telling a bit about yourself, Miss Standhope."

  "I'm nineteen this year, Mrs. Pott, and well versed in Latin, French as well as classic literature, mathematics and some of the more popular sciences. I studied under my own tutor until recent circumstances required me to seek my own employment." Carlotta held her breath, hoping the words she'd rehearsed were neither too rushed nor divulged too much information on her current straits.

  "I see. You're quite the educated woman it seems." Mrs. Pott nodded.

  "Thank you."

  "Now then, have you experience in how to conduct one-self in social situations? The duke has become the guardian of three young women, all in need of guidance not only in their formal education but in other social graces."

  "Yes, I'm able to guide them in the various social situations they'll likely encounter being associated with his grace," Carlotta responded confidently.

  "Lovely. His grace plans on moving the girls to his country estate in Bath. Do you have any connections that would prohibit your moving from London?"

  "No." Yet her heart pinched. Bath was awfully close to Garden Gate. What miserable torture to be so near one's home yet so completely away at the same time?

  "Delightful. Then, Miss Standhope, I'm extending the offer of employment to you, should you wish to accept. You seem very well suited for the position and with such a glowing recommendation, I'd be daft to not welcome you to his grace's staff."

  "Thank you, Mrs. Pott. I humbly accept." Carlotta barely resisted the urge to let out a huge sigh of relief. That had certainly been much easier than she had anticipated.

  "Now then, that's settled. We'll have us a spot of tea and then I'll take you to meet your charges. They are currently staying here, but will be traveling shortly. I'm assuming you'll need to quit your current lodgings as well?"

  "Yes, it shan't take long."

  "No need to worry. I'll have Murray have someone fetch your belongings and settle your account."

  "Oh, there's not need, I can—"

  "Of course there's a need my dear. You'll find that, being in the duke's employ that, while his reputation is less than above reproach, he is generous and kind to those he employs. I'm quite sure he'd be put out if I did any less for you, my dear."

  "Well, thank you." Carlotta tried to be gracious but all she could think of was the sorry state of most of her clothing due to the muddy descent from the carriage. Hopefully whoever collected her belongings wouldn't look too closely.

  Chapter Two

  Carlotta glanced about her room, still shocked that it was assigned to someone under employ. The large bed boasted the softest feather mattress and the light blue of the walls gave the room a relaxing atmosphere. How strange, she thought, to feel so at ease in a duke's private residence. She almost laughed out loud, if not for the tiny fear that someone might hear. She walked to the dressing table and sat. In short work she unbound and re-twisted her hair into a respectable and much tidier knot at the back of her head. A wave of sadness crashed over her at the remembrance that there would be no season for her, no beautiful gowns, no gentlemen asking for dances or stolen kisses. But at least she wouldn't go hungry, and with any luck, Mr. Burrows would find a tenant for Garden Gate. No, she would be thankful for small blessings, for the small blessings added up into large ones. Indeed, things could be far worse.

  A knock on her door caused her to rise from her seat. "Yes?"

  "It is I, Mrs. Pott, dear. Your belongings just arrived," she answered as she let herself into the room.

  "Thank you."

  "I, er…" Mrs. Pott stuttered, her cheerful face slightly pinched i
n concern. "I'm afraid some of your clothes were, shall we say, damaged, in some sort."

  "Yes, I'm aware. It was why I was hesitant for you to collect them. You see, on my way to London, my trunk fell and opened on impact, my dresses and, other things, didn't manage too well against the mud on the road." Carlotta felt her face flush with humiliation.

  "You poor dear! How wretched! I'll have them laundered and pressed at once. Whatever can't be salvaged, I'll endeavor to have new dresses made to replace them."

  "There's no need, I'm sure what I have will suffice." The last thing she wanted was to be an imposition.

  "Oh fustian! Remember my dear, your employer is the duke. We cannot have you looking like you work for anyone less."

  "Oh, I hadn't thought—"

  "Not to worry, dear. You'll get used to it. Now, shall I introduce you to the girls?"

  "Yes." Carlotta exhaled a sigh of relief.

  "Very well, follow me and I'll take to you them."

  Carlotta followed Mrs. Pott's plump figure down the hall and to the left. It was oddly quiet for there being three children about. She expected Mrs. Pott to lead her to another floor, but rather, she paused in front of a large wooden door and knocked softly. Carlotta watched her expression soften. "Girls? I've your new governess."

  The door cracked open slightly. Two very large brown eyes glanced out warily.

  "Yes m'um." The door continued to open.

  Mrs. Pott cut a glance to Carlotta, speaking volumes. She would need to tread carefully.

  They entered a large salon decorated in a cream color. A cheery fire danced in the hearth, but the tone, the overall feeling of the room was one of despair. Carlotta focused on the two other girls sitting together on the settee, holding hands. The third girl joined them shortly. Clearly older she placed a protective arm around the other two as she watched their approach with careful consideration.

  It was clear they were all sisters. Three pairs of chocolate colored eyes were all framed in dark feathery eyelashes. Wide lips were thinned in a wary line and their chestnut hair was plaited neatly and in a similar fashion. In all truth, they looked like the very same girl but in different stages of life. The youngest couldn't be younger than seven and the middle one looked to be about ten or eleven. The oldest was perhaps fourteen but it was uncertain. She was in the first bloom of a young lady but her eyes seemed older, wiser. Pained.

  "Beatrix, Bethanny, Roberta? This is Miss Standhope. She is to be your governess." Mrs. Pott did the introductions.

  "Berty, my name is Berty," the youngest corrected with a scowl before being hushed by her older sister.

  "Yes, well." Mrs. Pott tried to hide a grin.

  "Hello, sweet girls. I'm pleased to meet you." Carlotta spoke quietly, then on impulse, she took a few steps to get closer. Crouching down, she met them at eye level. "Truly, I am pleased to make your acquaintance. You're all quite lovely and I'm sure we'll get along quite well."

  Berty, the youngest, smiled, revealing a missing front tooth. However, the older two simply nodded, their expressions inscrutable.

  I'll leave you to get acquainted. Dinner will be shortly." Mrs. Pott left, closing the door behind her.

  "Now then, can you please tell me which of you is Beatrix and which one is Bethanny?" Carlotta asked, standing.

  "I'm Beatrix," the middle girl stated, her voice was deeper than Carlotta expected, a true mezzo.

  "I'm Bethanny," the oldest spoke next, her voice clear and pure.

  "I'm Carlotta but, you must call me Lottie. It's ever so much easier than Carlotta." She spoke with a grin.

  "I like you," Berty stated.

  "Well I like you as well." Carlotta, reached out and patted the girl's shoulder tenderly. "So, why don't you tell me a little about yourselves? Bethanny? Would you start please?"

  "Well, I'm Sixteen. I'm fond of reading and have done quite well with my embroidery."

  "How lady like."

  "Thank you, Mama—"

  She stopped, her eyes darting to her lap as she bit her lower lip. The two other girls took similar postures.

  "Your mother? Was embroidery important to her?" Carlotta went out on a limb, hoping she wasn't hurting their fragile relationship.

  "Yes." Came a low whisper.

  "You know, I lost my parents as well when I was about your age, Bethanny." Carlotta spoke softly.

  All three girls gave her their rapt attention, pain and understanding clear on their faces.

  "Really?" Beatrix asked.

  "Yes, they took ill. My mother died of pneumonia and my father took to his bed shortly after. I think perhaps, he didn't know how to live without my mother. He died about a month after her. "

  "That's horrid." This from Berty.

  "It was indeed."

  "What did you do?" Asked Beatrix.

  "I wept, a lot. Tears clean your soul, you know. They help wash away the pain. And with time, the pain becomes less and less. You forget how sad you are and remember how happy you were when they were alive."

  "I miss momma, my father too," Berty confided.

  "I'm sure you do." Carlotta reached up and smoothed a stray lock of chestnut hair on the child's head. "But you're not truly alone. You have your sisters. And together you can all remember all the lovely things about your parents that made them so special. And as you get older, you can share the most delicious secrets together, and encourage one another."

  "I suppose that's true," Bethanny spoke, a thoughtful expression across her beautiful face.

  "It is true."

  "Do you have sisters, Miss Lottie?" Beatrix asked.

  "No. I always wished I did. So you see how lucky you are?"

  "Yes."

  "Very good. Now. Tell me about yourself Beatrix?" Carlotta asked.

  "I'm eleven, and I hate to read. I'd much rather be outside. I love riding but…" She leaned forward as if to impart some great secret.

  Carlotta leaned in, an indulgent smile tickling her lips.

  "I hate sidesaddle. My Father let me ride astride, like a boy!"

  "Heavens!" Carlotta feigned shock, her lips spreading into a grin.

  "Truly! But he always said as I grew older I'd need to learn sidesaddle." She pouted.

  "That's wise."

  Beatrix regarded Carlotta with a curious expression. "Do you ride sidesaddle?"

  "Yes, I do."

  "Then you can teach me." She nodded.

  "I'm sure there will be a great many things we'll learn from each other." Carlotta replied. "Now then, little Berty, your full name is Roberta, correct?"

  "Yes, but I hate it. Roberta." She said the name in a whine. "All it is, is a boy's name with a 'a' at the end. Honestly, couldn't mother think of a proper girl's name for me? They said they were glad I was a girl but I think they wanted a boy. You know, to name him Robert. They were stuck with me so they just added a 'a' to the end."

  "My." Carlotta blinked, not quite sure how to address such a statement. "I'm sure your parents were thrilled to have another girl. And, I'll have you know, Roberta is quite a popular name for a girl. You're parents didn't just make it up on a whim."

  "That's what I keep telling her." Bethanny rolled her eyes.

  "I still don't like it. Call me Berty, please."

  "Fine, Miss Berty. You know, you even look like a Berty, now that I think of it."

  "I always thought so too." The seven-year-old nodded sagely.

  "Now then, shall I tell you about myself?" Carlotta asked the girls.

  "Yes!" Berty shouted while the other two nodded.

  "Well, I'm a bit older than your oldest sister, so I'll have plenty to teach you. I'm versed in Latin, French and all the other studies you'll need to learn. But also of equal importance, I'll be teaching you how to be ladies of quality. Was your father titled?"

  "Yes, he was a baron," Bethanny said.

  "So was my father," Carlotta spoke before thinking.

  "Then why—" Bethanny's expression was confused.

  "
It's not important. You are now the wards of a very powerful and influential duke. You'll need to be properly trained in the ways of the London elite."

  "Will we go to balls?" This from Beatrix.

  "I'm sure you will."

  "And drink champagne?" This from Berty.

  "When you're much older. So see, you have so many wonderful things to look forward to."

  "I suppose." Bethanny nodded with a thoughtful expression.

  A knock sounded at the door. "Yes?" Carlotta answered.

  Murray entered. "Dinner is served."

  "Lovely. Thank you." Carlotta stood, her charges mimicking her movements.

  "Let's follow Mr. Murray while he escorts us to dinner."

  They went down the hall and soon the heavenly fragrance of roasted duck with some sort of rich sauce assaulted Carlotta's senses. It had been an age, it seemed, since she had a proper meal. At least since the fretful day Mr. Burrows had come to call. She had found her appetite had quite disappeared, and then when it returned, she was already on her way to London and the fare she procured wasn't of the tempting variety.

  They entered a dining room that was gilded with gold and reflected the candlelight in a warm glow. The velvet covered chairs were a deep crimson, soft and luxurious as they sat. While the room was large enough to seat at least fifty, the leaves were taken from the table to make it much smaller, though still far too large for the small party about to dine.

  Dinner was served with a grand flourish, each dish as beautifully displayed, as it was delicious. Carlotta kept her eye on the girls, watching their table manners and tucking little observances into the back of her mind for later instruction when a voice boomed in the hall.

  "I don't care if it's the bloody Noah's flood! They can't be here tomorrow! I'm… entertaining." A dominant male voice shouted, clearly the duke and therefore not accustomed to other people in hearing distance within his own home.

  Carlotta heard Murray's voice but was unable to distinguish his words. It was quiet then, too quiet. Carlotta glanced at the girls. They were all staring at their plates, their eating long ceased as they clearly understood the meaning behind the loud shouts.

  They weren't wanted.

  And nothing could have angered Carlotta more. Right then she decided, regardless of what Mrs. Pott said about the duke caring about his servants, all the gossip concerning him had to be truth. He was arrogant, and thought only of himself. Truly it was maddening for someone with so much power, wealth and influence to be so concerned with just himself. However, she didn't need the girls sharing her opinion, though she rather thought they'd figure it out soon enough. As their guardian, they needed to respect the duke, regardless.