A Temporary Governess

by Blaise Kilgallen

  "Wait until you see him gallop. Oh yes!” Beatrice clapped her hands. “It will be fun after all, riding with you, Miss Marrick!"

  One mark in her favor, Clarissa thought. “Then perhaps the weather will smile on us tomorrow, and we can enjoy an outing on horseback.” She offered a smile, and the girl returned one, the first Clarissa had been given since she met the marquess's daughter.

  As swiftly as dousing a lighted flame, though, the girl's next words came out grumpy-sounding. “I suppose we shall have grammar lessons today."

  Clarissa adjusted her own expression. “What if we do something out of the ordinary, Lady Beatrice, and not worry about grammar lessons or any other just this once?"

  Beatrice's blue eyes lit up. “No lessons today?” She clapped her hands. “Then I believe you and I shall be fast friends, Miss Marrick. And ... and I think you may address me simply as Beatrice,” she finished with a smile.

  Another small battle won, Clarissa thought.

  "I should like that very much ... Beatrice.” Clarissa grinned. “And you may call me Miss Clarissa. Now? Is that not better all the way round?"

  The girl nodded.

  "Now ... Beatrice ... I expect you to give me a lesson today. I would love a tour of Trury Priory. That is, if we do not bother your father's guests. What do you think? Will it be all right?"

  "My father's guests always stay up very late, Miss Clarissa. And most of the ladies sleep until noon,” Beatrice whispered. “My father usually rides in the mornings, no matter what. It is drizzling, but I think he may still sally out with some of his friends. I think I can show you around for a little while. But we are not allowed in rooms that are in use."

  Clarissa and Beatrice left the schoolroom for a short tour. Clarissa was excited about exploring this ancient, intriguing mausoleum. Later, it would be more fun when she knew her way about.

  Beatrice avoided the main hall. There were numerous footmen on duty near the front entrance. Instead, Beatrice led them down a back staircase. It opened into a wide corridor hung with ancient armor and paintings of the Priors who ruled here before the monastery was closed by the express order of Henry VIII in the 1500s.

  Beatrice hurried her along although Clarissa would have liked to stop and examine. “I thought you might wish to see the Orangery,” the girl said. “My father keeps his birds in there."

  "Birds?"

  "You'll see."

  The Orangery was an understatement. Among other plants, she saw a profusion of orchids and other exotics blossoming there. Clarissa had never seen a live orchid, but she had seen botanical drawings of them. To be confronted by dozens of unknown flowering species was overwhelming. Her mouth formed a large ‘0.’ Beatrice rushed Clarissa past orchids and other large and small exotic plants, however. Finally, she halted at the far end of the room, facing an enormous cage inhabited by numerous small, colorful birds.

  "They are called budg—bud—ge—rig—ars, Miss Clarissa,” Beatrice explained, stumbling over her stuttered pronouncement of the species. “My father had them imported from Australia. Aren't they pretty?"

  Clarissa was surprised the child knew that much. The little lovebirds were as fascinating to Clarissa as were the orchids. “I come here to feed them sometimes,” Beatrice went on. “I shall let you come along to help me if you like.” She took a handful and fed the birds with some of the seeds that were kept in a large container near the cage.

  "What would you like to see next, Miss Clarissa? The armory or the library?"

  Clarissa laughed. “Why, I wish to see them both!"

  On their way back through the Orangery, Clarissa explained to Beatrice that she read where certain species of birds could be trained to speak. “If you whistle..."

  She looked down at Beatrice. “Can you? Whistle, I mean?” The child pursed her lips and tried. It was a feeble effort, and Clarissa's teasing laughter flowed over the girl's head. Beatrice hadn't heard much laughter in her young life, but she did giggle.

  "Like this!” Clarissa emitted a sharp ‘tweet'. Beatrice giggled again and tried to imitate Clarissa, but without much success.

  "Well, never mind. I shall teach you how to whistle,” Clarissa said and went on with her lesson. “When you learn to whistle, perhaps you can train a bird to fly to you and land on your finger or your shoulder."

  "Do you really think I could train one of those birds?” Beatrice's face was animated and her bright eyes sparkled.

  "We can try, Beatrice. Together.” Clarissa placed an index finger against her lips in thoughtful contemplation as was her habit when thinking about a solution to a problem. “You know, it would be better if we could keep a bird in a cage in the schoolroom. That way he will be right there with us when we try to tame him."

  "Oh yes, yes, Miss Clarissa! And I shall play with him each day! Do you think he will learn how to talk? Oh, promise you will help me!"

  "Of course, Beatrice.” Clarissa paused, then asked, “Do you think there is a book about those little birds in your father's library?"

  "Oh, do let's go see!"

  Clarissa had seen the sparkle glowing in Beatrice's eyes. She made a start, found an interest. Learning about those little birds, even training one, had ignited the child's avid interest. Hopefully, it would make lessons more fruitful and fulfilling—for both of them.

  The pair of smiling explorers, one young and the other not so many years older, hurried toward the library, hoping to find information about the colorful winged creatures.

  The library's curator, a tall, thin man with a full head of gray hair, was surprised to see them enter. Wire-rimmed glasses were perched on top of his head, nestled amongst the thick silvery strands.

  "Good day, Uncle Dan,” Beatrice greeted him.

  "Good day to you, little lady. My goodness, this is a wonderful surprise! You seldom pay me a visit anymore,” he replied with a warm smile.

  "This is my new governess, Uncle Dan. Her name is Miss Marrick."

  "I am Beatrice's temporary governess, sir,” Clarissa explained. “I arrived a day ago. I am here only because Miss Hornsby has taken ill."

  His expression displayed more than ordinary concern it seemed to Clarissa.

  "Jane ... er ... Miss Hornsby is unwell? Heavens, I hope it is not something serious. I knew she had departed to London with Lady Beatrice and Mrs. Pritchett, but...."

  "She contracted the measles,” Clarissa replied, quickly. “I am here to take her place in the meantime, until she is recovered. But I am assured she will be fine."

  "Oh! Well then, I look forward to her speedy recuperation,” he replied with a less worried look. Retrieving his spectacles from his head, he slid them down onto the bridge of his nose.

  "Now, is there some way I can help you ladies?"

  Ahh! Clarissa thought, finally recalling Jane's mentioning a person from the library.

  "In truth, sir, perhaps you can,” Clarissa began. “We are seeking a book on birds—particularly the budgerigars we visited in the Orangery. Do you know of an ornithology tome we can borrow?” Clarissa nodded toward Beatrice. “And while I think of it, do you have a book on horse racing."

  "I believe I have both, Miss Marrick,” Daniel replied with an even wider smile. “I suspect my cousin, Alex, owns every book printed on both topics."

  Clarissa glanced around at the rows of shelves tightly packed with leather-bound volumes. Some books on the uppermost shelves could only be reached by a little spiral staircase that led up to them. “Oh my! I never believed there were so many books in one place!” she exclaimed, flushed and bright-eyed. “I wish I had time to read all of them."

  "In that case, Miss Marrick, you will need to stay here for two or three hundred years!” He laughed, jovially. “Ah, but I forget myself. I am Daniel DeLand, a distant cousin of the marquess. Lady Beatrice addresses me as her uncle, but that is not strictly the case.” He bowed properly from the waist like any aristocratic gentleman. “However, I am very glad to make your acquaintance, Miss Marrick."
>
  Clarissa dipped a brief curtsy, unsure whether he, too, owned a title and should be called, my lord. Mr. DeLand never said so, and she didn't recall Jane mentioning it. “I know nothing about the little birds, I am afraid, so Lady Beatrice and I will have to learn together,” she replied. Her melodious chuckle skipped around the fourteen foot high walls of the somber room, the sweet sound invading dark corners and bringing a smile to the lips of Daniel DeLand.

  "Perhaps a beginner's volume on horse racing would be appropriate, too. Lady Beatrice and I can go through it together. She may be able to give me some pointers.” Clarissa grinned over at Beatrice. “You see, we may gallop a bit in the fields tomorrow if the weather is good."

  "Ah, then, you are an equestrienne as well as a governess, Miss Marrick."

  Daniel turned to Beatrice. “How happy you must be, little lady, to have gained an outdoor friend, as well as a new governess for a time."

  It took Daniel a few moments to fetch several books on horses from the many volumes lining the shelves. Removing his spectacles and wiping them with his handkerchief, he replied, “Come back later, Miss Marrick. I promise I will have a suitable volume on birds for you. I cannot seem to lay my hands on what I need at the moment."

  When Clarissa and Beatrice left the library, the girl stated firmly, “I don't want a book on birds,” she grumped. “I want a bird for a pet."

  With Beatrice's self-indulgent demand spilling out of such a young, curt mouth, Clarissa was not amused. Her Ladyship was a spoiled bratling and definitely needed reprimanding. Had the marquess never taken a hand in disciplining his daughter? Perhaps, she should speak to him. Nevertheless, if this is what might pique Beatrice's interest so she could learn, she would do what the girl asked.

  "I will speak to Mr. Griggs, Beatrice, and ask to have a bird put in a cage and brought to the schoolroom so we may have it with us."

  Beatrice's frown melted, her face beaming, having gotten her way again. As usual. Clarissa couldn't help herself. She smiled back.

  "Now, m'lady, shall we continue? Please, show me more."

  The Priory's tour went on for another hour. It was nearly lunchtime. As she and Beatrice mounted the stairs to the second storey, Clarissa saw a man's dark silhouette farther down the corridor. The large windows behind him made a halo around him even on such a gloomy day. Clarissa's heart skipped a beat. Was that the infamous Frederic Black? In case he spotted her, she hurried toward the schoolroom beside Beatrice. She had no wish to encounter the marquess's guests nor even the marquess himself.

  Chapter Eleven

  Together, Clarissa and Beatrice poured over the book on horses. Luncheon, which was brought up on trays from downstairs by two footmen, Clarissa had consumed one of the most delicious meals she had eaten in a very long time.

  Nanny entered the schoolroom a short time later. “It is time for your nap, m'lady,” she declared. Beatrice whined and made a sour face at Mrs. Pritchett. In Clarissa's opinion, Beatrice's nanny treated her like a baby in leading strings instead of a girl growing out of childhood. If it were she, Clarissa knew she would rebel, too. Perhaps that was why Beatrice was narky and disgruntled half the time. Had the girl been given some freedom, perhaps she wouldn't be so spoiled. Clarissa ran the possibility through her mind.

  "We were very busy this morning,” Clarissa told Mrs. Pritchett. “Lady Beatrice was good enough to give me a short tour of the Priory. I quite enjoyed it."

  "Then it is time that she has a short rest,” Nanny replied testily. Clarissa felt her temper prick hearing the woman's curt answer, but decided not to argue. “How long does Lady Beatrice nap of an afternoon?"

  "An hour will do."

  "Well, then, I could use a bit of exercise since it has stopped raining. I promise I will not take advantage of the marquess's goodwill. Will it be all right if I stroll over the grounds?"

  Because Clarissa asked her permission, the pucker between the nanny's eyebrows smoothed. Mrs. Pritchett liked being in charge, so she gave Clarissa permission.

  "That will be fine, Miss Marrick, but do keep away from windows and do not peek inside. Your Lordship's guests are up and about by now. You have a free hour in which to do what you please, however."

  Clarissa started for her bedroom to don her borrowed bonnet, then instead, decided not to wear it. Although the rain had stopped, she would feel distressed if Jane's hat was damaged. Unless the day was very sunny or very cold, she rarely wore a hat at home. She was aware that well brought up ladies donned head coverings and gloves since it was deemed proper to do so when leaving the house, but in this case, she rebelled as much as her new charge.

  But then, I am not, strictly speaking, a lady nowadays, she thought with a sly smile. I am a governess. And who cares what I do? Besides, it is difficult for me to look prim and proper when everything around me is so new and exciting. Instead, I want to run and jump, and kick up my heels!

  Skipping lightly and silently down the backstairs leading to a rear exit of the Priory and spotting woods beyond the lawns, Clarissa followed her nose. The massive, ancient oaks reached their newly leafed branches up, tall and wide. Spring primroses and wild dog-toothed violets grew beneath them in the soft moss. Clarissa walked on, climbing farther up a slope, until the old monastery lay some distance below her. From here, in a wide open spot, she could see the stream, the bridge, and the parkland beyond that. Now and again, sunshine peeked tentatively from behind a thin veil of gray clouds. The rain had left grass and leaves drenched with dew. Globules of water glowed with colorful iridescence, each drop capturing a tiny rainbow of its own inside.

  "Oh,” Clarissa sighed out loud. “This setting is absolutely splendid!” In awe, she paused. For a few grateful minutes she felt as though she hadn't a worry in the world.

  Then she noticed a well worn path that led back to the manor. She strode in that direction. It was time she returned, or she would be late. Beatrice would be awake, waiting in the schoolroom, and probably pouting because she was not back. Hurrying along the narrow path, Clarissa heard voices somewhere nearby, but saw no one.

  "Don't you understand?"

  The woman's voice was sharp and tinged with annoyance.

  "The marquess seems less enchanted with me than he was a few weeks ago. He completely ignored me on one occasion while in Town. You are to keep me informed if we are to succeed. What if he no longer invites me to the Priory's house parties? What am I to do then?"

  "Nonsense!” a man's firm voice replied. “What would he do without you to keep him amused and satisfied, my dear? Ah ... do not worry. I shall make certain he invites you back."

  Clarissa knew she was eavesdropping, but what she heard was suspiciously titillating. She had no doubt these were guests of the marquess she was hearing, but she had no idea who they were. She could not see the woman or the man with her. A small voice nagged at her, whispering that this was not at all proper behavior. Her mother in heaven would have been horrified to know her well bred daughter listened in on private conversations.

  Moving away as rapidly and carefully as she could in case a dry stick snapped and made a noise that would alert the pair of her presence, Clarissa slipped through the undergrowth and made her way back to the Priory. As she entered the same way she left, she noticed her blue gown was ripped. A small scrap must have torn away by a thorn bush. Not handy with a needle and thread, Clarissa was exasperated, wishing Olly was around to mend the tear.

  Clarissa had stopped in at the library after her stroll. Mr. DeLand had found a thin book he was looking for and gave it to her. She also sought and was given permission from Mr. Griggs to keep a bird in the schoolroom. On her way above stairs now, Clarissa mused silently. There was so much to learn about this extraordinary house. She could hardly wait to write more in her diary.

  "Where have you been?” Beatrice asked, tartly, when Clarissa entered the schoolroom. “I wanted you to be here when I woke up.” Clarissa heard the whine in the girl's voice and suppressed an urge to teach this young
lady some additional manners. No one else seemed to have reason to do so.

  "I went for a walk, Beatrice. I'm afraid I was gone longer than I anticipated."

  "I hate walking,” she said, frowning. “Miss Hornsby made me walk when I wanted to ride."

  Overhearing Beatrice's remark, Mrs. Pritchett swept into the schoolroom. “I did not allow you to ride because of the weather and also because you are not fully recovered from the toothpuller, m'lady. If I am thought lax and you become ill, what would your father say?"

  Clarissa guessed that the wise young miss put on this act for her nanny, and possibly, others. After all, she was well enough to show her around the Priory this morning.

  "You know he doesn't give a fig about me, Nanny, as long as I don't get in his way,” Beatrice replied with a low-voiced statement.

  Beatrice's nanny hastened to comment, “Don't ever say that, child! You know your father is a very busy man, that is all,” she retorted. Then added as an afterthought, “It might do you some good to do more walking and less grumbling, Your Ladyship."

  Clarissa was surprised to hear Mrs. Pritchett chide her charge so sharply.

  Just then, a tap on the schoolroom door surprised all three. “Who comes?” Mrs. Pritchett asked with raised brows. A footman entered and stood inside with a birdcage hooked over one gloved finger.

  "Oh! It's Jasper, Nanny! He has brought my bird!"

  The footman watched Mrs. Pritchett's expression go sour. “Take that ... thing ... out of here!” she commanded him with a deep frown.

  Beatrice ran to the footman and grabbed onto the cage. “No! My bird is staying here with me. Miss Clarissa said he could!"

  This time the nanny glared at Clarissa.

  Going to Beatrice's aid, Clarissa reached for the cage from the befuddled footman who rapidly backed away and left . “I really don't mind having the bird in here, Mrs. Pritchett,” Clarissa replied, “if Bea ... I mean ... if Lady Beatrice wishes to keep a pet in the schoolroom. It is an opportunity to learn about birds in our lessons. M'lady hopes to train the little budgerigar, and caring for any animal is also an excellent lesson in responsibility."