The Key to the Governess's Heart: A Historical Regency Romance Book

by Abigail Agar

  “Yes, I agree. And, once we have, perhaps we may go to your father and tell him that we wish to bring an end to the engagement. I hope that you do not mind that I am eager to do so. I wish for you and Lord Beckridge to continue and begin a courtship if that is what you so choose,” Peter said.

  “Of course. And it is the only way in which you might be able to proceed forward with courting Miss Cloud,” she replied.

  “Do you think she will consent?” Peter asked.

  Lady Seton laughed as if it was not even a question.

  “My Lord, that is the last thing that you need to worry about. Miss Cloud is a kind, gentle woman. She would not be so obvious about her affections for any man that he might make an assumption. But she is still a woman who desires to be married one day and she would happily marry the right man,” Lady Seton said.

  That was a relief, although she had not spoken outright on Miss Cloud’s behalf to give him an assurance that she would accept him. Lady Seton spoke in general terms, which was far more respectful of her friend.

  He would have to ask Miss Cloud for himself.

  However, Peter was growing more and more anxious, wondering what could have happened. The last time he had seen her, Miss Cloud had been making her way off the dance floor after they had enjoyed the dance together.

  What could have happened to her since?

  Was it possible that she had not been feeling well? Might she have departed for the sake of her health?

  Peter continued to tell himself that there was an easy explanation. There had to be. Perhaps she had gone in search of the kitchen, in case she had missed dinner while trying to get ready for the evening. Or, perhaps, she was not comfortable among all of the nobility and had sought out the servants’ quarters.

  None of those explanations seemed likely, but he had hope nevertheless.

  It did not help that Lady Seton appeared equally worried. He might have felt more comfortable if she was not so anxious.

  “Is she prone to wandering off?” he asked.

  “Not in the least,” she said.

  “That is not the answer that I was hoping for,” he said.

  “No, indeed. It is not the answer that I would have liked to give. However, I cannot pretend that this is normal behavior for her. She would not go wandering off without telling someone first,” Lady Seton said.

  All of these worries settled in Peter’s mind, making him grieve the fact that he had not kept a better eye on the woman he claimed to love.

  He was starting to wonder if something more nefarious was afoot. And, if so, what were they going to do about it?

  Peter took a deep breath, trying to settle himself. There was no reason that he should think harm had come to her, but for her disappearance. And, if so, and if he could not find her, he would never forgive himself.

  “It is a terrible grief to know that she has gone missing just as I might have the freedom to tell her how I feel,” Peter said.

  “You will still have the chance,” Lady Seton replied. “I am confident that her whereabouts will be determined.”

  Peter swallowed hard. He wished that he had the same confidence.

  “Please, you must have hope with me,” she said.

  “Yes, yes. Of course. I am sorry. I will not give up hope,” he promised.

  But Peter’s fear was beginning to overwhelm him. He was starting to think that he had, indeed, already failed Miss Cloud. He had failed to protect her, even as he was trying to prove that he was the man who would take care of her always. He had failed to look after her even when he was hoping to make a vow to be with her forever.

  There was nothing in his mind that wounded him as badly as realising that he had not done what he had meant to do. He had not made Miss Cloud his whole world as he had thought her to be.

  No, he had only managed to lose track of her at the ball and not look for her until it was too late.

  “Do you think it is possible that she has returned to the ball?” Peter asked.

  Lady Seton considered it for a moment.

  “Perhaps. It is worth checking. Would you like me to go and have a look?” she asked.

  “If you would be so willing, I would be extremely grateful. In the meantime, I shall continue my search of the estate,” Peter said.

  “Very well. I shall go,” she said.

  “As I search, you may not be able to find me. Let us meet in half an hour, right here,” Peter said.

  “Yes, certainly. That is a good idea,” she said.

  With that, Lady Seton went off in search of Miss Cloud.

  The estate was vast and Peter could not imagine that he would be able to search every room alone, but he also could not imagine that Miss Cloud would wander into some of the most abandoned parts of the house. She did not appear to be the sort who might go snooping around.

  But she was the sort of woman who might wish to get away from the crowds and take a breath of fresh air.

  Bearing that in mind, Peter climbed the stairs all the way up until he was on the rooftop. He hoped that he would find her gazing at the stars.

  Reaching the roof he searched in all directions, looking at the flat surface.

  Hope sunk further. She was not there. He had wasted precious minutes, but had not found her.

  Peter looked out around the property, scanning in all directions below. He looked over the gardens but he saw no one who looked like Miss Cloud, although the fading light could have been fooling him from this distance.

  But there was no reason to think that she was down there, waiting for him.

  Peter realised, with great terror, that she was gone. She had vanished from the party without a trace. And he could not possibly know where she had gone.

  After searching further in the house, he made his way back down to where he was meant to meet with Lady Seton.

  She arrived, not long after, with Andrew by her side.

  “Lady Isla told me that Miss Cloud has gone missing. You did not find her?” Andrew asked.

  Peter shook his head, unable to form words.

  “Then we search together. The rest of the house first, then the grounds, and then wherever we must,” Andrew said, decisively.

  “Yes, we must,” Peter said.

  With that, they rushed together to continue the task.

  If they did not find Miss Cloud, Peter feared that he would never be at peace again.

  Chapter 34

  Beatrice looked at her surroundings, terrified. How has she got here? How was it that she could not find her way out? The trees bloomed above her, casting their dark shadows over the earth, and with them, over her soul.

  The evening had already been a distressing one. She had been cast out by Lord Seton, who clearly detested her after what had happened.

  And now, she was stuck. Stuck in the woods, stuck without a path. She looked up at the sky and saw only the fading blue of day that was being stolen by the night.

  Without help, without any idea where to go, she stood for a moment in place.

  Beatrice thought that, if she could just be still for a moment, she might have a chance to get her bearings. She could try to calm herself and find a little bit of peace.

  However, the sound of a bird only startled her. And as what was left of the day dissipated, she realised her situation had grown even more dire.

  She was stuck in the darkness, at night, with the cold setting in.

  Beatrice had not been dressed for the cold. She was prepared only for the ball and the exciting adventures that were to take place there.

  But now, she was coming up against the harsh realities of nature. She was given no choice but to try and contend with the creatures of night.

  With every scurry and hoot, her heart jumped in fright. Since when had she been someone who allowed fear to get the best of her? Since when had she been frightened of everything that crossed her path?

  Beatrice recognised that she had a few options. She had to cry out, had to hope that someone might hear her
and come to rescue her.

  “Help! Help! Is anyone there?” Beatrice begged.

  Her screams were met with silence. There was no reply and she did not know how much louder she could be.

  How long had she been out there? Surely it had been over an hour by now. Perhaps even two. It all began when she was unable to take one of the coaches, as they belonged to the noblemen and women. Walking had seemed to be the only choice.

  But the path had led her to this forest before it had vanished. And now, she was just trying to find her way out.

  Beatrice considered climbing one of the trees. She could shed her gown and try to find her footing.

  But she had never been a very good tree climber. And none of these trees appeared suited for the job.

  With every bit of uncertainty, she began to grow more and more nervous.

  Beatrice realised that if she could just make it through the night, she would surely find refuge by the morning. They were not out in the wilderness. There had to be estates and roads nearby.

  But that only mattered if she could get through the night. And, at that point, she was not sure if that would happen.

  The fear was palpable. Overwhelming.

  “You are going to be all right,” she told herself with a panicked, hysterical laugh. “Someone will find you. Everything is going to be fine.”

  But she did not believe it for a moment. In order to comfort herself, she began to sing.

  “The sun will dawn and day will come,

  “The darkness of the night shall cease,

  “And when the morning breaks upon,

  “The night, all pain shall ease.”

  But the song hit the air in a dead way, sounding flat. There was nothing beautiful in it, no melody. Beatrice wondered if singing was only going to make her more miserable, if it would only make her surroundings that much more terrifying.

  If only she had not been so frightened of Lord Seton, she would not be in the situation.

  She felt like a fool for having run off. If only she had remained. If only she had stood up to her employer and told him how she felt and how he was hurting his daughter and everyone around her.

  But Beatrice could never have done that. It was not her duty.

  She cried out again. But, once more, there was no response.

  Giving up, she settled at the base of a tree. At least there she could have a bit of rest and give her feet a break from walking the hard earth in her painful shoes.

  Leaning against a tree, she felt the cool air settle upon her. She hugged herself, trying to ignore the awareness of the bitter cold that would soon be setting in.

  She wanted to be strong. She wanted to tell herself that she could get through this night, that she would survive and find Lord Hawthorn, that she would see him again.

  It was the thought of the dance together that kept her warm. The memory, from just a short time ago, was the only thing that made her feel like she was going to survive.

  She had to survive. She had to survive for him. So that they could be together.

  Finally, Beatrice closed her eyes. She told herself that, if she could not see the terrors of the night, they did not exist.

  It was a child’s notion, but it was her only relief.

  She tried to fall asleep, but it was too uncomfortable. Sleep would not come when she was anxious and frightened, with roots stuck in her back.

  Again, she lost track of time. Had it been four hours? Eight? Or had it been a mere thirty minutes?

  Just then, Beatrice heard the sound of twigs cracking. It was not with the lightness of foot that would be found by forest creatures, but rather must have come from a human.

  Closely followed behind the footsteps, she heard the sound of voices. Men’s voices.

  Beatrice wanted to cry out to them, to beg them to come and rescue her. But she was not sure who they were or what they might be like. Would they help her? Or would they only bring her harm?

  She stayed perfectly still, not wanting to alert them to her presence until she made her choice. She waited and listened until she could hear what it was that they were saying.

  “I don’ fink we should even tell him,” one man said.

  “You doesn’t fink we should tell him? Wot kind of fool are ye?” the other asked.

  “‘Scuse me? You want him tryin’ ta take credit for our spoils? We wanderin’ in these woods for free days, hidin’ out so tha’ nobody catches us wif the goods,” said the first.

  “But he’s the one wot hired us to take them. We don’ give him the goods, we don’ get paid,” said the second.

  Beatrice put a hand over her mouth, hoping to stifle the sound of her breath. Her heart was racing and she felt terror overwhelming her. What was she going to do? Who were these men? What if they found her?

  She couldn’t bear to think what might happen if they discovered her there, especially now that she had overheard their scheming. What if they decided that she was a risk? That she couldn’t survive?

  “You say we don’ get paid if we don’ give it to him, but I fink we would make a whole lot more if we off and went to the men wot really want to pay. The ones wot he was goin’ to sell to in the first place,” the other said.

  Their voices were starting to get more distant, as though they were continuing to walk just a short distance behind the tree that Beatrice was sitting at.

  “I suppose it’s not the worst idea then. Roight. Let’s consider it. But I’m done out here. I want a real bit o’ food, not none o’ this dried rabbit we’ve been eatin’ this ‘ole time,” the man said.

  They continued their debate as their voices grew quieter and farther from where Beatrice remained.

  Finally, she released the panicked breath that she had been holding, trying desperately not to break into a sob. She had been frightened before, but nothing like this.

  The woods were dark and terrifying, yes, but now she knew that they were also a haven for criminals to hide out in.

  It could not get any worse.

  Beatrice closed her eyes once more. She tried to steady her breathing, but the tears that fell silently threatened to break out into heaving, weeping sobs.

  Again, she tried to take her thoughts back to earlier in the evening. When she had been so happy.

  She tried to think about the good times that she had lived in her life. Times with her mother and father and her sisters, times with Isla. She thought about Mary and Cecile and what good girls they were.

  And she thought about Lord Hawthorn. The only man who had ever made her feel beyond her station.

  More than that. She did not simply love him for making her feel important; she loved him because of his kindness, his heart. She loved his sense of humor, and the ways that he brightened her day. She loved the way that he had advocated for her when Lord Seton had been angry.

  She loved the way that he smiled at her when they tried to keep their feelings at bay and how sweetly he closed his eyes and listened when she had played the pianoforte for his entertainment.