Mrs. Pritchett had introduced Clarissa the next morning when Beatrice was slowly eating her breakfast from a tray in her room.
Clarissa explained some of the things she and Beatrice would be doing together.
Wincing, the girl threw down her spoon before finishing the last mouthful. “I down waw any gramma lessons!” she grumbled, glowering up at Clarissa beneath long eyelashes.
Noticing the missing tooth in front, the child must still be hurting because of the extraction, Clarissa thought.
When Beatrice spoke again, the words still came out garbled. “I hate werbs!"
"So did I,” Clarissa agreed, hoping to console the girl. “I expect it was because I had a hard time remembering how to use them."
A pout formed on the girl's face, but she shut her mouth and said nothing more.
"Losing a tooth must be painful, Lady Beatrice, but Mrs. Pritchett says that you are going back to the Priory. There will be no lessons today. And I am going there with you."
Clarissa saw the tiniest flicker of interest ignite the girl's blue eyes.
"Later, I do hope you will show me around. Perhaps tomorrow, if you feel up to it.” Clarissa tried to be her utterly charming self to this rude, frowning child.
Beatrice glared ungraciously and maintained her silence.
"You see, Lady Beatrice, I lived in a tiny house for a number of years. Assuredly, I shall get lost in your wonderful home. I will need you to help me find my way."
"No one gess loth at the Pri—ree,” Beatrice grumbled. Then her eyes brightened. “Why? Are you fraith of goaths?"
"Goats?” Clarissa answered, puzzled. “No, I'm not afraid of animals. Not the four-legged ones, but I don't like spiders or crawly things.” She feigned a shudder while sending Beatrice an easy smile.
Beatrice looked exasperated and rolled her big, blue eyes. “Goa—ths!” She exclaimed a bit louder, her forehead puckering.
"Oh! You mean, ghosts!” Clarissa's laughed out loud, mischief gleaming from her eyes. “How thrilling! The Priory has ghosts? Do tell me about them!"
"Now, that's enough of that talk,” Mrs. Pritchett interrupted quickly. “You know as well as I, m'lady, that you will have Beth and Lily whimpering again that they have seen the White Lady or the Gray Monk. ‘Tis utter nonsense, and you know it."
Intrigued, Clarissa's question was directed at Beatrice. She asked with the utmost calm, “Have you seen any ghosts, Lady Beatrice?"
"Miss Marrick, if there are people creeping about the corridors at the Priory,” Mrs. Pritchett interposed, “they are surely not ghosts!” Then, as if she spoke too quickly and said too much, she spun away and strode out of the bedchamber.
"Lily is fraith of goaths,” Beatrice winced again, covering her mouth.
Clarissa chuckled. “I am not surprised. People are afraid of what they do not know."
"I beth you will be fraith, too, when we geth to the Pri—ree,” Beatrice warned with a wicked glint shooting out of her blue eyes.
"Oh, I think not,” Clarissa replied, calmly. “I would not take to screaming—even if I did see a ghost."
"I beth you will be fraith of my father, though."
"Why is that?” Clarissa asked.
"Heeth a mar—kess,” she announced, her expression one of pride. “Heeth wery important. Hees...."
She stopped as if deciding not to add more information. Instead, she exclaimed, tartly, “I'mth ready to geth up now! Go tell Nanny!"
"Please,” Clarissa said.
"No. You arth only a servant! Do whath I say!"
"I will do as you wish, Lady Beatrice, as soon as you ask me politely rather than demanding I do it,” Clarissa replied, the tone of her voice low and even.
The girl's expressive face was painted by surprise. Her blue eyes opened wide, along with her cherub lips.
"Now, would you like to try that again? Say please, Miss Marrick, will you find Mrs. Pritchett for me?"
The girl flounced off the bed and hurried to the doorway. “Nanny! Nanny! I need you to helph me dresth,” she screeched. Giving Clarissa a haughty look, she jumped back into the bed and waited.
If she were to remain as governess, Clarissa decided she and her new charge were going to butt heads. Clarissa left the room to look for Mrs. Pritchett. She found her next door in the sitting room, gathering up a pile of sundries scattered over the rug. “Lady Beatrice wishes to get dressed,” Clarissa said. Seeing what the older woman was doing, she asked, “Would you like me to help you?"
The woman held out a miscellaneous collection of odds and ends she had clasped in her hands, then gave them over to Clarissa. “These are to be packed in the trunk in the corner. There,” she pointed. “I'll see to Her Ladyship,” she said and left the room. Clarissa placed the items into a large trunk covered by very expensive-looking, well-polished leather. Just another example of the marquess's wealth, she thought, her upper lip tending to curl slightly. Undoubtedly, she would arrive looking like a beggar-maid at the Priory. In fact, she had been so ashamed of her raggedy bonnet that she asked Jane if she could borrow hers. It was a cheap straw, but it was becoming with its bright green ribbon ties that matched her eyes.
"When you get to the Priory,” Jane had told her, “take whatever of mine you need to borrow while you are there."
"You're welcome, too, Jane, to anything I own. But I'm afraid my things are a bit threadbare. See what you can find here that fits you."
Jane had nodded.
"I know I shall be livid with envy when I see the beautiful gowns worn by the marquess's guests. What do you suppose happens to their gowns when ladies weary of them?"
"They are given to their lady's maids who are permitted to sell them, I believe.” Jane smiled at her friend.
Jane seemed to know all the answers. “What an extraordinary idea!"
"Not at all, Clary. It is how it is done amongst fashionable ton ladies,” Jane had replied. “I wish I had extra coin, or I would purchase my clothes that way. But I must put away every penny in case I am turned off before I find a new situation."
"Yes, of course,” Clarissa had mused, thinking how she, too, would dearly like to have a new gown or two even if they were secondhand. If she made friends with a guest's personal maid, she may have something inexpensive to sell. Then Clarissa realized she had taken only pennies with her when she left the vicarage.
She might indeed borrow a few things of Jane's if they were not as shabby as what she herself owned. Her current gown strained across her chest. Her figure was now nicely rounded. She seemed to have blossomed in that area since her mother died. So many gowns of hers were badly faded from frequent washings, too. This morning she had donned a traveling gown that was two years old, but fashioned by a simple, unfussy fabric that suited her.
In passing, Clarissa noticed that Beatrice's traveling clothes were too elegant for a child of her age. The gown was made of pale blue fabric with inserts of fine ecru lace. Over it, she wore a pelisse of midnight blue velvet with ermine trim down the front and on the cuffs. Her pert bonnet was also of velvet with a white plume attached to the brim.
Throwing on her own dowdy outerwear over her gown, Clarissa scrutinized her appearance in the cheval mirror and felt sorely out of place. With a wistful expression, she plopped her borrowed bonnet on her head—at least that was in reputable condition—and followed Mrs. Pritchett and Beatrice down the stairs and out of the town house. She climbed into the marquess's comfortable traveling coach with the others—the same one in which she arrived the day before.
For Clarissa, the ride was filled with anticipation, but Beatrice grew weary long before they reached their destination. The girl's bonneted head rested against her nanny's bony shoulder. When the carriage turned into the long drive approaching the Priory, Mrs. Pritchett whispered in Beatrice's ear, “You must go right to bed, m'lady, once we are inside."
Aroused from her nap, Beatrice rubbed her eyes, yawned, and sat up. “Nanny, I amth gointh to ride Snowy tomorrow, no matth
a what.” Her defiant words were spoken with a certain arrogant determination. Clarissa heard the same tone of defiance when the girl declared she would not take grammar lessons. "Snowy missth me. Heeth angthuth to see me."
"We shall see,” her nanny replied. “First we must see if the swelling from your extraction has lessened, Your Ladyship.” The woman aimed a conspiratorial glance at Clarissa.
Beatrice turned sulky. The child was obviously keen on riding her pony. Her frustrated expression showed through the sheen of tears evident in the girl's eyes. With a sudden wave of excitement surging through her, Clarissa realized that if Beatrice rode out each day, perhaps she would be allowed to accompany her.
Her respectful manner, plus the flattery she employed so skillfully with Mrs. Pritchett, seemed to have softened the older woman's attitude toward her. Clarissa prayed she would be allowed to stay the month at the Priory as her excitement grew.
"Thank goodness, we are finally home,” Emma Pritchett sighed.
Clarissa stuck her head out the carriage's window on her side and looked down the wide avenue lined with ancient oak trees. Before she left the vicarage, she further questioned Jane about the interior of the mansion but forgot about the exterior of the Priory. Now she saw it glowing like a magnificent jewel in its setting. Built of red stone, it had mellowed over the centuries when it was built in the early 1500s. Its gabled rooftops and tall chimneys were silhouetted in deep purple against the dying rays of the sun's flaming sunset.
Clarissa gaped in awe in spite of herself, thinking Trury Priory must be the most stunning piece of ancient architecture she had ever seen. Eyes wide, she saw there was even a stream in front, crossed by a small bridge made of darker weathered stone. She wondered if it emptied into a pond somewhere. Looking like green plush velvet, manicured lawns stretched around and behind the Priory. The first spring shrubs had started to flower. Almond trees had been planted along the rushing waters of the riverlet. They budded with white flowers. Yellow daffodils dipped their trumpet-shaped blossoms on the slopes leading down to the stream's banks, reflecting their brilliant color in the rippling waves.
"Oh, Mrs. Pritchett! The Priory is beautiful! It looks like a fairytale castle,” Clarissa burst out in appreciation as the carriage and four horses’ shod hooves clattered noisily across the narrow bridge and halted at the mansion's impressive facade.
"It's nice enough,” Mrs. Pritchett said in a grudging undertone. “I hope you realize no place or person in this world is completely perfect, Miss Marrick."
Chapter Nine
Upon her arrival, Clarissa met Mr. Griggs in a small study, led there by a liveried footman. He accepted her explanation without question. “I am sorry to hear Miss Hornsby is unwell,” he said, “but I am pleased she was considerate enough to send a temporary substitute."
"Miss Hornsby ... Jane ... and I are friends of long standing. I brought a reference, Mr. Griggs,” she said, unfolding the single sheet and laying it open for him on the desk. He took it and read it over, then returned it to Clarissa saying, “It seems in order. If all goes well, you are retained for a month, Miss Marrick. I hope during that time you will instill in Her Ladyship more incentive to learn than Miss Hornsby was able to accomplish. Lady Beatrice finds her lessons dull and uninspiring."
"Most children go through certain phases, Mr. Griggs,” Clarissa responded, eagerly. “I suspect Lady Beatrice's main interest right now is in horseback riding, not schoolwork."
"That is so,” he agreed with a wry chuckle. “Her father is an exceptionally fine horseman. As was her mother. I expect she inherited their same passion for equines."
"How fortunate she is,” Clarissa remarked wistfully, “to have use of such a fine stable.” Jane had told her about the marquess's horses. She hoped Mr. Griggs was perceptive, because she had hinted shamelessly that she, too, loved to ride.
With a faint smile, he asked, “Do you ride as well, Miss Marrick?"
"Yes, as a matter of fact, I do, and have done so since I was a child."
"Then perhaps, we shall arrange for you to ride out with Her Ladyship."
"Oh, Mr. Griggs! Would that be possible? We ... I mean ... the vicarage where I stayed and its stable was rather restricted."
He answered with another wry grin. “I read your character,” he said, nodding at Clarissa's forged reference. “You seem well acquainted with Reverend Manning. What you say is quite understandable."
"I was led to believe that Lord Bosworth's—er, Reverend Manning's entitlement was rather small since he inherited a title but very little else, Mr. Griggs, but with no extras to spare for gratuities—or fancy riding horses. As you must know, most clerics are poorly paid."
That is enough information about my father before I say too much.
The marquess's steward chuckled, adding a knowing smile. “Ah, yes. My father, too, was a parson, Miss Marrick."
Griggs rose from behind the desk, still smiling as he dismissed her. “I shall advise Your Lordship's head groom that you may have use of a hack to accompany Her Ladyship when she wishes to ride her pony."
* * * *
Clarissa felt blessed when she entered the suite of rooms that comprised the schoolroom, the governess's adjacent bedroom, and Beatrice's, much larger bedchamber. Clarissa knew her acceptance at the Priory was extraordinary—a privilege she hoped to explore in depth.
While Mrs. Pritchett settled Beatrice in her bed, Clarissa unpacked her meager belongings. She returned to the schoolroom with her diary in hand and sat down on a straight-backed chair at a large table to scribble her first impressions of Trury Priory.
April 28, 1811:
I have never seen anything like this monstrous manor house before. I was astonished by the size of the Priory. The entrance foyer alone must encompass half of my father's poor little cottage. I must ingratiate myself into Lady Beatrice's good graces. Otherwise, I shall indeed be lost in these endless halls, wandering about without direction or help. I am not sure if I can find my way back to the front door.
Clarissa paused for a moment as a silent chuckle creased her lips. Then she picked up her pen again.
I saw an army of servants scurrying about, doing whatever it is they do here. The footmen were dressed splendidly in blue and gold livery like the ones I saw in Park Lane. I also noticed a bevy of maids clothed in dark gowns, wearing crisp aprons, and snowy mobcaps. Several older servants greeted young Beatrice when she arrived. All that bowing and scraping for an eight-year-old. I must remember she is a highly titled lady no matter her tender years. Before coming above stairs, I was led down a long hall by a footman and directed into a book-lined study to meet the marquess's steward, Mr. Griggs, for an interview. For no reason that I knew, I had a feeling that Mrs. Pritchett put in a good word on my behalf. I saw her smile and say something to one of the attending footmen. Perhaps, I had charmed her after all.
So. It is true. I have been given the governess job for at least one month. Hallelujah! Escorted to my chamber above stairs, I saw neither the marquess nor any of his guests. But surely, that happenstance will occur sometime soon. Oh, I am filled with excitement simply to be here. I can scarcely wait for tomorrow!
Chapter Ten
The next morning Clarissa discovered that Mrs. Pritchett had already awakened Beatrice and helped her dress. She rang for a housemaid to bring breakfast to the schoolroom for both Beatrice and Clarissa, then disappeared. Clarissa learned that the nanny's rooms were on another floor, near the old nursery, and nowhere near Clarissa and Beatrice's sleeping chambers. That answered one question that had puzzled Clarissa. The nanny was not within hearing distance when Mr. Black visited Jane in the schoolroom. It was another case of not belonging above stairs or below stairs. From one of the maids who brought up breakfast trays Clarissa learned the suite of rooms she and Beatrice occupied were isolated near the end of a long hallway from other guestrooms. The servants’ quarters were one storey higher.
After she and Lady Beatrice ate their breakfast, Clariss
a asked, “What do you wish to do today, m'lady?"
The weather became cloudy early in the day, with gusts of wind rattling the Priory's windows. The gray skies promised rain. Beatrice was not allowed outside because of her extraction. Mrs. Pritchett made that decision already. The girl's irritation and sulky expression showed her annoyance. She could not ride her pony in this kind of weather—even if yesterday she stated she would do so, no matter what.
"If you must know, Lady Beatrice, I, too, am sorely disappointed,” Clarissa told her, trying to make small talk with her charge while eating breakfast.
Beatrice looked surprised. “Why is that?” Then she blinked, wide-eyed. “You mean you can ride?"
The girl had not yet addressed Clarissa by name. Before replying, Clarissa explained so there would not be a battle of wits betwixt them. “You may call me Miss Marrick, as is proper, and I shall continue to call you Lady Beatrice.” She smiled, then continued. “Now, to answer your question. Yes, I do ride horseback and rather well if I do say so myself. Yesterday I was given permission by Mr. Griggs to accompany you on your rides, Lady Beatrice, whenever you go out on your pony. I am so longing to be on a good horse again,” Clarissa sighed.
"My other governess didn't know how to ride. She liked to drive about in the pony cart.” Beatrice wrinkled her aristocratic nose in disdain.
Clarissa knew that Jane was leery of large farm animals.
"Do you gallop your pony in fields surrounding the Priory, Lady Beatrice?"
She nodded.
"Well, then perhaps we can race a bit. But I shall give you a fair start since you will be mounted on a pony. Even if he is fast."
"Oh, Snowy is very fast ... Miss Marrick,” Beatrice replied, adding Clarissa's name as an afterthought.
Aha! A tiny breakthrough. I do believe we are on a better footing already. If I am able discover more of what the child is most interested in, I should be able to teach her.
A Temporary Governess Page 6
