by Jenni James
“Good morning, sir,” Rosie replied. A growl built in Leo’s chest. Where was her blasted nurse?
“What is your name?”
“They call me Rosie. Mama says it’s because I’m as pretty as a rose.” Leo gritted his teeth. If he didn’t have proof of Celia’s curse on him, he would find it more disturbing that her daughter believed she could communicate with her dead mother. While watching Rosie through the mirror, Leo often saw her talking to a figure that was not visible.
“Do your mama or papa work here?”
Leo could not hear Rosie’s reply.
“Oh, I see.” Beauley’s voice turned cold. “Are you happy here?”
Another reply he could not hear.
“Why not walk with me in the garden?”
“I’d like that! They never let me go outside.”
Leo’s feet raced to the door, carrying the mirror with him. The large home meant that Beauley could have Rosie outside before he reached them.
“I have three very nice grownup daughters at my house. Would you like to meet them? They would love to play with you.”
What was the man thinking? Was he going to abscond with the child? Leo came into the hall just as Beauley raced toward the door with Rosie in tow.
“Let her go!” Leo rushed toward the older man and crashed into him. They all fell, and Rosie lay crumpled on the floor. Leo pinned Beauley beneath him. “I should kill you!”
“No! No! Please, no! I wasn’t going to take the girl!”
“I heard you! After enjoying my hospitality, you were going to take her away!” The mere thought of the man hurting an innocent child out of some need for vengeance boiled Leo’s blood. He knew what it was to be a child seen as nothing more than collateral.
“Please don’t kill me!”
Breathing heavily, Leo got off the trembling man. After checking to see if Rosie still lived, he turned back to Beauley. “No, I will turn you in to the constable. Between this and your debt to me, you ought to have a few years in the workhouse.”
“No! No! Anything but that. I’ve got three girls at home. I can’t just leave them.”
Leo’s conscience niggled at him. Surely this man’s daughters were innocent of the father’s sins. Could Leo be the means of leaving them alone in the world and defenseless any more than it was right for Beauley to do so with Rosie? “Return home and make arrangements for them. Then you will come work for me. I hope you understand that I am a harsh master.”
“Yes. Yes. I will do that.”
“Now go! And if you do not return, I will find you and your son. None of you will be safe from my wrath.”
Beauley got up and stumbled to the door. His legs shook and could barely carry him.
“Rosie,” Leo said as he crouched next to the little girl. A maid appeared with a basin of water and a towel. “Rosie, wake up.”
Her eyes fluttered open, and the moment they met Leo’s, she cringed. “No! I want to go!” She shouted and kicked at him until he withdrew. She tried to stand, but the maid held her down.
“Take her!” Leo shouted at the gathering group of servants.
“Come, Lady Rosalyn. It’s not safe for you out there,” one said.
“We have sweets up in your room,” another coaxed.
After being assured that she would not have to see Leo again, the girl willingly went up the stairs. Leo returned to his study. There had been other times when Rosie had nearly left the house, but that was certainly the closest. He needed to find a cure to the curse or accept his fate.
As he picked up the mirror and watched Rosie’s scraped knee get cleaned up before serving tea to her dolls, he acknowledged that it was not just for himself that he desired to live. Who would care for Rosie? There was not an old acquaintance of his he would trust with her wellbeing. To make matters even worse, no one else would understand how her mother haunted her and whispered things to her. Rosie would be called mad or possessed. Their fates were bound in this.
Once, when he was young, he dreamed of having a family of his own. He would be the caring father his own had never been. His wife would have been a doting mother, unlike the one who birthed him. They would never speak words in hate or anger. No hands or rods would strike their children. But naïve dreams fell away, and he married Celia.
Now, although he had no blood relationship to Rosalyn and could barely be in the same room as her without the girl striking out, undoubtedly encouraged by her mother, he felt something like affection for her. She did not deserve this world created by him and Celia into which she had been born. She was a helpless innocent, and he did desire to save her even more than he wished to save himself.
From beyond the grave, Celia was able to see many things, but she had never understood his mind or heart. An idea struck him, and he took up his pen.
Chapter Two
While her father was away, Bella looked over the mail. It was unsurprising to have a letter from George saying again that he would not be returning home and intended to leave the country. He thought Italy might be suitable. She never touched her father’s business mail, and his male friends wrote infrequently. Other than a few distant female relatives, there was little correspondence for Lord Beauley. However, even if there had been an excessive amount, surely the seal of a duke would stand out on the envelope now in her hand.
Bella’s hands itched to open the letter. Additionally, she wondered why the duke would write her father when even now he should be at the peer’s estate. Had her father met harm? Bella shook her head to dispel the gloomy thoughts. It was far more likely that the duke was away from the estate. Dukes always had several homes and surely many friends to visit. News of her father’s arrival must have reached him, or he wrote to her father to collect or pardon George’s debt.
Curiosity would have to wait—meals did not cook themselves, in addition to the dozens of other daily chores. When not cooking, cleaning, or mending, Bella’s days were filled with amusing her sisters. At the end of each night, she returned to her room bone weary and exhausted. While her sisters spent hours at their toilette each day, she wore a simple hairstyle and practical clothing. While brushing out her hair, she would examine her dull, thin features. Her sisters glowed with youth and vibrancy in a way that Bella had not even when she was their age. Their forms were already more rounded than hers, and they moved gracefully while Bella still felt gangly and awkward. She never seemed to know how to stand still and allow her limbs to rest. Instead, she poured her energy into serving her family. No one noticed her thin elbows then. Her mother had been a great beauty, but Bella could never measure up to her in looks—or in any other way, she feared.
Escaping such unhappy thoughts, Bella often read by candlelight until she fell asleep from the work of her day. The routine continued until her father returned earlier than expected, but with gifts for them all—jewelry and gowns for her sisters, and rose water for her. “It will last longer than a rose would,” he had said.
Lord Beauley appeared agitated when questioned about his visit, and he immediately changed the subject. After four attempts to garner information from him, Bella gave up. She had forgotten about the letter from the duke entirely until she was summoned to the library by her father several days after his return.
“Arabella, I have received a letter from the duke of Erroll,” Lord Beauley said when his daughter entered.
“I recall seeing it while you were away. I assumed your visit settled whatever matter he wrote to you about.” Bella busied herself around the room while she spoke. It was probably the nearest thing to a rebuke she had ever said to a person, let alone her parent.
“Actually, this was sent after my departure.”
Bella nodded her head. Mail coaches always traveled faster than private ones. Additionally, correspondence from a duke would be given higher priority. She said nothing, and instead, waited for her father to say his piece.
“I’m afraid he’s asked for you to go live at his estate.”
Bella dr
opped the empty dish she was holding. It landed with a loud thud on the carpet. “Beg pardon?”
“He needs a governess, and is demanding one of my daughters.”
Her father’s words swirled in Bella’s head. She was hardly qualified to be a governess. She had none of the elegance and accomplishments a learned lady would need. As a gently born woman, seeking employment never entered her mind.
“Papa . . .” Bella slowly turned to face her father lest the movement cause her dizzy head to ache. “Why has he selected me?”
Her father had the decency to blush. “He did not specify…”
“Of course it would be me and not Soleil or Gwen.” It was always her. “What I mean is, why has he selected our family? Did you not settle matters during your visit?”
“His Grace is not open to discussion.”
“So George’s debt is not settled?” Bella watched as her father avoided meeting her eyes and instead played with papers on his desk. “My becoming a governess is in exchange for freeing George from his debt? Then of course I will go.”
Her father did not reply. Nothing was said about when she would go or the arrangements. She had learned not to press her father for such details. He needed time to form plans, and making him feel inadequate only delayed things further. As always when faced with anxiety, she found cleaning to ease her nerves. Just as she approached the door, holding a serving tray heavy with dishes and rubbish in one hand, a thought struck her.
“How much does George owe?”
“The duke did not confirm an amount.”
Seeing her father’s attention on the book before him, she knew he would say no more. Bella sighed and exited the room. If she were truly fortunate, the duke would release one hundred pounds every year from George’s debt. But even at that rate, his daughter would not need a governess for more than a decade. Bella could well imagine that George’s debt was far more than one thousand pounds for both him and her father to be so alarmed by the matter. What would happen to the debt after her student finished her education?
That evening after supper, while her sisters sang and played at the pianoforte, her father spoke to her.
“Bella, put away your mending and sit with me.”
She obliged, but regretted it. She hated to be idle, and could listen or converse just as easily while sewing.
“You have always been such a very good girl. You have taken care of us marvelously.”
The praise made Bella uneasy. “It is nothing compared to what Mother could have done.”
“Nonsense. I know we never spoke of it, but I wanted you to know before you leave. The war depleted our income. Investments I made turned out badly. Your mother could not have made money appear as if by magic. And she certainly would not have been as useful around the house when we had to let the servants go.”
Bella nodded. No, her mother had been a true lady, and far too beautiful and refined for such menial work.
Her father took one of her hands in his old, wrinkled one. “You don’t have to go, Bella. I’ve been thinking. Between you and your sisters, there are ten thousand pounds. I will give that to the duke.”
Bella gasped at the amount. George owed so much? That was more than twenty years’ income from the estate. If she had wondered what would become of the debt after her student no longer needed a governess, she now knew. Fulfilling this debt would require service for her entire life.
Before a feeling of selfishness could take hold, Bella squashed it while watching her sisters whisper and giggle over sheet music. Her eyes welled up with tears. “You cannot give my sisters nothing. Who would they marry? I will go. Add my portion to my sisters’, or hire a true housekeeper to take my place.”
“I cannot ask it of you, my dear,” her father said. The anguish in his tone caused her to look up at him.
“Papa?”
“You do not know what he is like. He is a monster.”
“I am sure I will have little to do with him. Tell me about the girl.”
Lord Beauley shook his head, tossing gray curls from side to side. “She was somber and frightened when I met her. She would not say it, but I knew she desired to leave.”
“Not everyone can be as fortunate as I am to have such a caring father. And losing her mother must be a terrible burden as well.”
“You know what the gossips say.” Her father lowered his voice.
Bella smiled. “And I know it comes from gossips. There are no alternatives. I am grateful he is offering this opportunity. We do not know where George is, and you cannot work. We have nothing of value to sell.”
Her father frowned, and deep lines marred his forehead. Having a son, never before had he minded the entail on the estate. It was the usual way of things. Of course, the current circumstances were precisely why the estate had always been entailed. It would prevent the breaking up of the property to cover mismanagement.
“Do not regret the entail,” Bella said. “I shall be satisfied knowing that no matter what, you, my sisters, and George will always have a home here.”
“What will we do without you?” Her father squeezed her hand.
“The girls are grown. They will be leaving home soon anyway. George seldom visits, and I know I’m little company to you.” Bella attempted to smile, but she had never been away from family before, and in truth, did not know how she would manage without them.
“What are you talking about?” Gwen asked, interrupting them.
Lord Beauley released Bella’s hand and stood. “There is something you and Soleil must know. Bella has accepted employment with the duke of Erroll as a governess. She will be leaving in two days’ time.”
“Employment!” Soleil exclaimed, and Gwen’s jaw dropped open.
“A duke!” one said after the other. They tripped over each other to reach Bella.
“Well, why should Bella get to go?” Soleil cried. “Imagine seeing a duke’s house!”
“She won’t be on holiday. She’s working! Are we losing our money? Heaven help us!” Gwen collapsed on a chair and stuffed a treat in her mouth as though their fine things would disappear immediately.
Their father looked helplessly at Bella. Sighing, she stood. “I simply desire some adventure. To meet new people and see new places.”
Lord Beauley immediately looked relieved. Soleil and Gwen blinked at the ruse for one long moment and then bobbed their heads in unison. “Oh! Of course! You always love to be of use to others,” Gwen reasoned.
“And you have no hope of marrying,” Soleil added. “How else would you see these things?”
“We’ll help you pack,” Gwen said, and then poked Soleil in the ribs when she did not immediately corroborate.
They clutched Bella by the arms and led her up to her room. The next two days followed in a blur of excitement and nerves. By the time Bella ascended the duke’s carriage, she had almost convinced herself that it would all be a grand adventure and had been her idea all along. Only the pained and guilty look haunting her father’s eyes as he waved her off reminded her otherwise.
* * *
Leo tapped his fingers on his desk. The governess was to arrive that day, and he was on edge. He wondered if this was how all men felt when they knew of their impending demise. His intention, his hope, was that a governess could teach Rosie how to blend in society. As demented as Celia was, it had always seemed directed at him. If Rosie were able to leave the castle, it was possible that she would be free from her mother’s haunting. The problem being that Rosie leaving would very likely kill him.
Faster than the impending expiration date on Celia’s curse, that is. Would less than two months be enough time to save Rosie? What chance did she have when there was no one qualified in teaching her?
At last came a knock on the library door. Leo bade Potter enter. “The carriage has cleared the lodge and will be here within minutes.”
“Excellent. Show Miss Beauley to the green drawing room. Have tea and biscuits waiting.”
A few minut
es later, he heard the sounds of an arrival at the door and the muffled voice of the butler directing Miss Beauley down the hall. To reassure himself, Leo gazed in the mirror. Rosie played in the nursery with two maids doing her every bidding.
After several minutes, Leo left his study and entered the drawing room. Glancing around, it appeared empty, but a used cup sat neatly on the tea tray. Judging from the display, there was precisely one biscuit missing. Then he heard a shuffling sound coming from behind a sofa. Intrigued, he circled around. The lady knelt on her hands and knees, her head below the couch.
“May I ask what you are doing, Miss Beauley?”
“Oh!” she exclaimed and jerked her head up, knocking it on the sofa. Upon hastily rising, she smoothed her skirt, and then curtsied. It was perfectly executed, but her hair now tumbling over her shoulders ruined the effect.
“I assume you can speak?” This was a nightmare. Where was he going to find another governess?
She nodded, and Leo raised his eyebrow. “Yes!” She cleared her voice. “Pardon me. I mean, yes, I can speak.”
“Then will you do me the honor of answering my question?”
“Certainly. If you will do me the honor of introducing yourself.” She tugged a stray lock behind her ears.
Annoyed, Leo spoke coldly. “Leonard Sundridge, third duke of Erroll. Your employer.”
The color drained from the woman’s face, and she visibly gulped. Her eyes turned round.
“Now that you survived your shock,” he said as her face turned pink again, “what were you doing under there?” He motioned to the sofa.
“I dropped some crumbs,” she said meekly.
“Crumbs?” The Beauleys were not as wealthy as he, but had they not servants? If the woman had not been raised gently, she would never do for Rosie.
“Yes. I did not wish to leave a mess.”
“Be seated, Miss Beauley,” he commanded, and she obeyed. “I have a full staff that tends to the house. Your sole duty shall be to look after your charge. If I hire you.”
Her eyes, which had avoided his, suddenly snapped up. A fire lit behind them. “I did not apply for a position. There is no need to use such a tactic to intimidate me. If you could find another governess, you never would have requested one from my family.”
