by Rose Pearson
“I am,” Miss Blakely replied, quietly. “I do hope that I can fulfill the role given to me by Lord Radford.”
The Dowager nodded slowly. “I am sure you will, Miss Blakely. And in the meantime, I hear we are to spend some time together over the course of my visit here. I look forward to becoming a little better acquainted with you.”
Andrew felt Miss Blakely’s eyes land on him, saw her astonishment, and managed to give a small shrug. “I have told my mother your current situation and all that has gone on of late,” he said, by way of explanation. “It is my desire that you dine with us each evening and join us afterward for some conversation and that like.”
Her face burned with color. “Lord Radford, that is not necessary, I assure you. I am more than aware that it is not my place and do not wish you to feel obliged in any way towards me. Not when you have been so kind already.”
He shook his head, aware that he had not been all that kind to Miss Blakely but had, in fact, been something of a tyrant. “Miss Blakely, I will not have it any other way. In fact, I shall insist. We are in the country and, as it is, no one will comment on your company with us. I would not have you spend each evening alone, worrying about what news might come from London.”
Her eyes met his and, caught by the beauty of them, Andrew’s breath hitched, leaving him unable to continue his speech for a moment. She was smiling at him, her expression open and eyes warm, looking at him in such a way that he wanted to drag her into his arms and crush her tight against him, promising to look after her for the rest of her days if she would but let him.
“Then shall we step inside?”
His mother’s voice broke through his fog of desire, pushing away the clouds and setting him back to reality. He could not do such a thing, not in front of his mother and certainly not when Miss Blakely had only just begun to trust him.
“Indeed,” he said, clearing his throat. “Miss Blakely, I shall introduce you to Miss Amy and then leave you to settle into your rooms. Do join us for dinner, however. I think it best that I tell you the truth about Miss Amy and her situation here.”
She nodded, her smile fading as she caught sight of the Dowager’s steely gaze.
“It is for the best, Mother,” he said softly, aware of the concern in his mother’s eyes. “Miss Blakely can be trusted. You need have no doubt about that.”
“Very well,” his mother murmured, still not looking altogether pleased. “Then I shall see you this evening, Miss Blakely. Good afternoon.”
Miss Blakely curtsied again as Lady Radford made her way back up the steps towards the house, leaving Andrew standing by Miss Blakely’s side.
“My mother surprised me with her visit, but I do not think that it is altogether a bad thing,” he murmured, offering Miss Blakely his arm without even realizing he was doing it. “We may find that we require her counsel.”
Miss Blakely looked up at him, glancing at his arm for a moment before accepting it. Andrew felt his body burst to life as they walked up the steps together, aware that he felt more for Miss Blakely than he ought.
“I am looking forward to meeting Miss Amy and beginning my life here, Lord Radford,” Miss Blakely said quietly, as they walked into the entrance hall. “I feel very blessed to have been allowed to come here. You have been very good to me.”
Smiling down at her, Andrew saw the wonderment in her eyes as she took in his home. “It is nothing less than you deserve, after how I treated you, Miss Blakely,” he said, softly. “The fact that you are so willing and able to trust me is more than I ever hoped for. If I may be so bold, I am glad to have you here with me, Miss Blakely. I do not think I could have left you behind in London.”
Her eyes met his as their steps came to a sudden stop, simply looking into each other’s face with nothing being said between them. Andrew did not know what to say or what to do, feeling as though Miss Blakely almost belonged here, growing pained at the thought of ushering her into the governess’ rooms instead of to the room that adjoined his. It was not as though he simply wanted her in his bed any longer, but that he wanted her to be a permanent part of his life. Now that she was here, he did not want her to leave again, nor did he want her merely to be Miss Amy’s governess.
Confusion swirled through his mind as they looked at one another, nothing but silence surrounding them. Her breath tickled across as he leaned down just a little, finding himself so drawn to her that he could do nothing more.
And then the excited giggle of a small child echoed through the house, breaking the silence between them. Miss Blakely looked all around her, a smile spreading across her face as her hand tightened on his arm.
“Miss Amy, I presume?” she whispered, as though not wanting to interrupt the laughter that still echoed around them. “She sounds like a very happy child.”
Andrew smiled a little ruefully, somewhat frustrated that they had been interrupted, whilst also being a little relieved that the moment had passed without him feeling the need to act. Whatever it was between them, he couldn’t let himself fall back into old habits, not without being sure that what he felt was real – and sure that Miss Blakely would react with pleasure instead of anger towards any expression of those feelings.
“She is very happy,” he replied, softly, turning towards the staircase. “Come now, let me introduce her to you.”
11
Elsbeth felt the last of her trepidation melt away as dessert was placed in front of her, glad that the Dowager now appeared to be at ease with her company at the dining table.
She had not felt at all excited at the prospect of sitting with Lord Radford and his mother, but given that Lord Radford had insisted, she had not had any choice in the matter. Now, however, she was glad of the company, realizing that, had she not joined them, then her evening would have been spent alone in her rooms.
Not that her rooms were anything to be sniffed at, however. She had her own large bedchamber with a small dressing room to the left of it, which was more than she had ever had before. It was, for a governess’ room, rather beautifully decorated with large drapes hanging either side of the window, which had immediately given her a feeling of security, recalling the man who had watched her window back in London.
“I hear you met Miss Amy earlier this afternoon, Miss Blakely,” the Dowager began, with a small smile in Elsbeth’s direction. “Did you find her to be amiable?”
Thinking back to the small, blonde haired child who had looked up at her with the brightest of smiles and the bluest of eyes, Elsbeth could not help but smile. “I did,” she replied, softly. “She is a beautiful little girl and I am sure we shall get along admirably.”
“When do you propose to start her lessons?”
Glancing towards Lord Radford, Elsbeth hesitated for a moment before replying to the lady’s question. “I would like a few days to look at the books and other resources in the schoolroom before preparing it for us both. Would that be quite all right?”
Lord Radford smiled. “More than all right, Miss Blakely. Besides, I do not think that Miss Amy will need your tutelage all day. Perhaps just in the morning, as you did with Miss Sarah?”
Elsbeth, who had been thinking much the same thing, nodded at once. “Yes, of course. I am sure she will enjoy much the same things as Miss Sarah did, and I am already looking forward to getting to know her a little better.”
Looking down at her dessert, she began to eat quietly, leaving the rest of the table in silence. Nothing more was said until after their dessert was finished and the table cleared by the footmen, who Lord Radford then dismissed after requesting a tea tray for his mother and for Elsbeth.
“Should we leave you to your port?” the Dowager asked, making to rise from the table. “We can have the trays sent to the drawing room.”
Lord Radford shook his head. “No, please. I think now is the time to talk about Miss Amy.”
A knot formed in Elsbeth’s stomach as she saw the older lady sigh and nod, looking somewhat distraught as Lord Radford sa
t back in his chair. What was it about Miss Amy that he wanted to say?
“As you know, Miss Blakely, Miss Amy’s presence here is not well known. It has been something I have tried to keep as secret as I can.”
“Even from your own mother,” the Dowager muttered, drawing Elsbeth’s attention. “Oh yes, Miss Blakely, I can see you are astonished to discover this but I can assure you that it is true. I was only told of her presence here less than a sennight ago and made my way here almost at once to see if it was true.”
Elsbeth had a great many questions on her lips but chose not to speak any of them, seeing the distress on the lady’s face and realizing that she had stepped into what appeared to be a rather difficult situation. Up until this point, she had believed that the Dowager knew about Miss Amy and had assumed that perhaps she had stayed here with Miss Amy whilst Lord Radford was in London. Now that appeared to be entirely wrong.
Lord Radford cleared his throat. “Mother, you know that I was trying to do my best by my brother.”
The Dowager nodded and put her head in her hands for a moment, forcing Elsbeth to look away as a prickle of anxiety shot down her spine. This was not something she should be intruding on.
“Perhaps I should leave you be, Lord Radford,” she whispered, more worried than before. “This is a family matter and I –”
“No, stay, Miss Blakely,” the Dowager interrupted before Lord Radford could even reply. “It is quite all right. I apologize for disconcerting you. It has just all been a terrible shock.”
Elsbeth shut her mouth against any kind of protest and sat back her in her chair, her hands folded neatly in her lap. Thankfully, the awkward tension was broken by the footmen bringing in the tea trays, meaning that Elsbeth was able to focus on first pouring herself a cup of tea and then sipping at it carefully, whilst waiting for Lord Radford to continue.
He sighed heavily, pouring himself a glass of port.
“This is something of a sad tale, Miss Blakely, but I shall tell it nonetheless. If you are to be the child’s governess then it is best you know it all.”
She nodded, mutely, her mind empty as she waited for him to tell her the truth about the reason for Miss Amy’s secret presence here.
“Miss Amy is the daughter of my brother, Miss Blakely.”
Swallowing hard, Elsbeth tried to hide her gasp of surprise.
“She is not the daughter of his wife, however.”
Her blood froze in her veins, recalling what Mrs. Simpson, the nurse, had told her. “But the children are but a few months apart, are they not?” she whispered, softly. “I don’t understand.”
Lord Radford gave her a small, sad smile, shrugging his shoulders. “What is there to understand, Miss Blakely? My brother is as I was – a man used to getting what he wanted and taking his pleasures where he wanted. Unfortunately, he took that elsewhere and so the lady in question became pregnant, only a few months before his own wife did.”
Elsbeth heard the Dowager draw in a shaky breath and, glancing at her, saw the paleness of her cheek. Clearly, the lady was horror-stricken.
“My brother did not care for the fact that his mistress was now with child, telling her that he would care for her by setting up a small fund and the like but, in reality, choosing not to do a thing about it.” He shook his head, his lips growing thin. “In desperation, the lady came to my door with the child in her arms. I am sorry to say that she died soon afterward.”
Elsbeth’s hand clapped over her mouth in horror as she stared at Lord Radford.
“It was not my brother’s fault that she died, nor the child’s,” Lord Radford continued, heavily. “A fever came upon her and there was nothing I could do. I even sent for the doctor but…” He shook his head, grief pouring into his eyes.
A brittle silence came over the room as Elsbeth continued to stare at Lord Radford, almost praying that it was not true. It was not as if she found the idea of an illegitimate child to be disturbing in any way, given that she was, most likely, one herself, but the fact that a gentleman would treat his own child with such disinterest tore at her soul.
Perhaps it was because she knew what it felt like to be so disregarded.
“You understand, I think, how that must feel,” the Dowager murmured, her voice quiet. “I can see it in your eyes.”
Dropping her hands back to her lap, Elsbeth gave a short, jerky nod.
“Then at least I can be assured that you will have sympathy for Miss Amy,” the Dowager continued, softly. “That, at least, is a relief.”
“Miss Blakely is nothing but kindness, Mother,” Lord Radford added, with a slight curl of his lip. “You need not worry in that regard. Rather, you might concern yourself with how poorly your son has treated his child.”
Tension grew between them as Elsbeth watched, seeing the way Lord Radford was growing angry, only for the Dowager to sigh heavily and shake her head, her shoulders slumping.
“You know why he had to do so,” she muttered, looking away from Lord Radford. “I understand that, at least.”
Lord Radford looked for a moment as though he were about to retort something but then chose not to, turning his gaze back towards Elsbeth.
“My brother chose to ignore the child since his own wife was expecting. He did not pretend that she was not his when I spoke to him about it but begged me to keep her presence here secret. Because I forced him into it, he is paying for her upkeep and has already set up a small inheritance for her – all unbeknownst to his wife, of course. In time, when she is grown, I will find her a good situation with a good and honest man for her husband. However, she will be known only as my ward and can never know the truth about her parentage. That must be kept quiet.”
Elsbeth shook her head, a coursing anger burning through her veins. “Why must it be kept silent, Lord Radford? The child has done nothing wrong by merely existing, and yet here she is to be set aside, as though she is the one at fault, never told anything about her past and expected to accept the silence without question!”
“You do not understand, Miss Blakely,” the Dowager interrupted, quietly. “My second son, the Honorable Cecil Preston, married well above his station. He was rather poor at the time, having hidden his debts and the like very well until after his marriage. I believe the lady he married thought them to be deeply in love and it was this that managed to convince Lady Beatrice’s father to permit the marriage. Now, you understand, my son lives on his wife’s wealth, with a great many allowances from her father. This was on the condition that he remain true and faithful.”
“And so to tell society at large about Miss Amy would be to push my brother from his home and, potentially, his child and any future children from any wealth and happiness that might be theirs,” Lord Radford continued, with a heavy sigh. “It is perhaps a little selfish of my brother to say such a thing, but I myself could not allow Miss Sarah to be faced with a future of difficulty over my brother’s indiscretion. I thought that this would be the best for them both. I can provide for Miss Amy and ensure that she has a happy and contented life here, with a future that is secure and certain. And Miss Sarah will have much the same.”
Elsbeth wanted to argue, wanted to protest, but the quiet voice within her prevented her from doing so. She could see that Lord Radford was doing his best for Miss Amy, yet her anger was burning over the unfairness of it all. It was as though she and Miss Amy were one and the same, even though she had no family nearby.
“And what will Miss Amy know of you?” she asked, her voice shaking a little. “Will she ever know that you are her uncle? Or will that be kept from her too?”
Lord Radford looked at her for a long time, his face devoid of expression. There was a pain in his eyes that he was trying to hide from her, as though he was attempting to be practical but struggling to contain his emotions.
“For the time being, she knows me as ‘Radford’ and I have not thought about anything more,” he said, heavily. “She is happy and content, knowing that she is cared for and love
d. Is that not enough?”
“I confess that I did not know what to say to her when I was introduced earlier today,” the Dowager whispered, her face ravaged with pain. “She is my own flesh and blood, Radford, but can she ever know the connection she has with us?”
Pushing herself up from her chair, Elsbeth rose to her feet, feeling a sudden urge to be alone with her thoughts.
“Thank you, Lord Radford, but I think I will retire now,” she said, picking up her tea tray and making for the door. “Clearly there are things that you need to discuss privately, and I will intrude no longer.”
Lord Radford got to his feet also, coming after her. “Miss Blakely, might you….”
“Please, Lord Radford, do not trouble yourself,” she said hastily, managing to maneuver the door open before he could reach her. “Thank you for all you have given me and all you have shared with me. I confess that I am tired and need to retire soon. Good evening to you both. Thank you.”
The door opened just enough for her to slip through and, with a breath of relief, Elsbeth began to make her way along the hallway and back towards the staircase, glad to be away from Lord Radford and the Dowager. It was not that she was angry with him – and she certainly had no right to be regardless, but the truth was that she was struggling with what she had heard.
Miss Amy was just as she had been, albeit in better circumstances than the Smithfield House for Girls, but the pain and the confusion she felt over not knowing her own parentage continued to grow in her regardless, along with the knowledge that one day, Miss Amy would feel the same as she. That she too would grow up without any awareness of where she had come from and with the expectation that she should appreciate what she had been given and what was offered to her. Her life would be one of mystery and confusion, questions dogging at her mind no matter how happy she became.
Her heart broke for the child, so happy and delighted in her childhood, knowing that what was waiting for her would blight that happiness entirely. Shaking her head, Elsbeth felt hot tears prick at her eyes as she stepped into her bedchamber, setting the tea tray down on the table by the small fire in the grate.
