And Mrs. Pritchett does not approve of house parties the marguess holds at the Priory. Nor with women he invites. Or, it seems, the improper behavior I hope to observe next week. But still, since he is noble and wears that awesome title, there are things about the man that intrigue me. I certainly wish I knew him better. Of course, while I pen those words, I know it is simply absurd for me to wish for such things like that. He is world's above my station, especially as he thinks I am merely a paid governess.
* * * *
While the marquess and his guests were away, Beatrice expanded Clarissa's tour of the Priory. She showed her the unoccupied drawing rooms on the lower level. All of them were of great size, all beautifully decorated, full of exquisite, fabulous objects d'art. Clarissa had an opportunity to examine some of the relics that belonged to Queen Elizabeth or other queens who stayed here over the centuries. On the same level there was a sumptuous ballroom that Clarissa found breathtaking in the extreme. Other rooms, like those in the guest wing above stairs, were more attractive than hers.
"Your home is very impressive,” she told Beatrice when they paused inside the Priory's chapel. “I can almost imagine the sanctity and peace the monks enjoyed here. The altar is lovely. I envision rows of praying clerics in the hand carved pews."
Clarissa took a moment to kneel down to say a prayer of gratitude to the Lord for allowing her to be at the Priory, if only briefly. She added silently, “I pray I can teach Lady Beatrice wisely for the next few weeks and make her happy."
A random thought came to her while she was still on her knees.
I wish there were children nearby. It would do Beatrice some benefit to interact with them.
Clarissa had Jane as a friend it seemed ages ago. What would she have done without her? Even better, what would Jane do without her to chide and tease her out of her doldrums. As a child, her mother had always invited parents with children to tea, then arranged that Clarissa be invited back to their homes. That's how childhood friendships developed. Clarissa knew an invitation had to come from the Priory first. Then Clarissa remembered Beatrice's nanny's comment. “There has been no lady wife in charge at the Priory, Miss Marrick, for more than eight years. Family life doesn't count here."
The face of the marquess popped into her mind's eye, unconsciously bringing him to mind. Why does he not visit his daughter and take some interest in her? He should. That is what fathers do. Watch over their daughters. The man has everything he could want and yet he completely ignores his child. Clarissa remembered the words blurted from the girl's own mouth, quite certain she craved attention from her father. I would be narky, too, if my father ignored me. Did Beatrice hope to teach one of his birds to speak so then, perhaps her father would pay attention? Oh, she would try hard to help the girl with that task, but she didn't know much about birds either. Only what she read in the book she borrowed from Mr. DeLand.
Or were her musings about Beatrice's hurt feelings simply another reason she couldn't forget the marquess? Or did she have a deeper reason.
* * * *
The next few days passed quickly. Beatrice worked on the lessons Clarissa gave her. Her reading had improved because she had wanted to learn more about her budgerigar. She repeated words to the bird endlessly, many times a day, hoping he would respond and mimic what she said.. The girl even worked on her grammar lessons to Clarissa's delight. Beginning a diary of sorts about her pet bird, Beatrice took to practicing her penmanship, too. The schoolroom had settled into a daily routine between Her Ladyship and her temporary governess.
It was a special joy for Clarissa, because on days when the weather smiled on them, she and Beatrice rode early each morning. Clarissa learned her way around as they explored the woods and fields, halting at a streamlet that branched out from the rushing waters beneath the bridge and the drive leading up to the Priory. She wanted to see more, so much so. Their days out riding and Beatrice's calm attention to lessons seemed to fly by.
Clarissa didn't realize she had been at the Priory for more than a week already when Beth said as she tidied up the schoolroom, “His Lordship and his guests are due tonight. Did ye hear yet, Miss Marrick, who's comin'?"
"No. I have not. Who?"
"Humph! I s'pose Nanny ain't got around yet to spread the news. ‘Tis the Prince Regent who will be arriving tomorrow!"
"Oh, good grief, Beth! He is really coming here! Oh my! Then I shall see him! How wonderful!” Clarissa exclaimed.
"His highness allus brings lots of people with him, too. The house will be filled with plenty of guests this time. His Lordship's parties last days longer when the Prince visits."
The housemaid leaned toward Clarissa and whispered, “P'haps the Prince will bring his current mistress with him. ‘Tis known he's a randy one and is known to travel with a ladybird wherever he goes."
"You mean..."
Beth winked.
"Allus things go on in the marquess's guest rooms during his house parties, miss. Lots of sneaking from bedchamber to bedchamber, up and down the halls. ‘Tis best ye don't get caught out there late at night. I been caught there once or twice meself, and I must say, had me a fine tickle by one of the Lordship's tipsy guests.” Beth giggled.
"Will Lady Ponsonsby be here?” Clarissa asked, surreptitiously.
"'Tis not known to me, miss, but the housekeeper has the bedroom list."
Clarissa posed another question. “Does Mr. Black have a special lady friend?"
Beth shrugged her shoulders. “Mr. Black seems to fit in right well with His Lordship's parties, so I expect he does."
If Mr. Black has a choice of several beauties, why in the world would he bother with poor Jane—or me? It was incomprehensible to Clarissa, unless he preferred less sophisticated, young and naïve, females he could bully. He certainly seemed overpowering and unpleasant, and thereby hopes to frighten women so they will give into his dastardly lust.
* * * *
By late afternoon, the entire household buzzed with activity. Housemaids were preparing a score of bedchambers, although they had been cleaned every day since the marquess and his guests had left.
Liveried footman waited in the foyer to greet guests, the silver buttons on their jackets gleaming. The Priory's housekeeper went from room to room to inspect, picking out even the tiniest fault, demanding perfection, and had the housemaids scurrying even faster.
Clarissa heard footsteps outside the schoolroom, and turned when the door pushed open. She rose to her feet, and Beatrice looked up from her teacup.
"My, my, I hope you ladies are glad to see my return,” Freddy said in that coddling voice of his as he stepped farther into the schoolroom.
"Of course, Mr. Black. We were just having tea,” Clarissa explained.
"I thought you might be, that is the reason I came by. Since no other guests have yet arrived, while I am here, it pleases me to accept a cup from your pretty hands, Miss Marrick."
He was flirting with her, Clarissa knew, but she ignored it. “I will ring for Beth to bring another tray,” she replied briskly.
"No, no, then do not bother. In truth, I simply wished to chat with you, Miss Marrick.” His avid eyes flicked over her where she sat on a bench in the schoolroom. Deliberately, he seemed to assess her and mentally undressed her. He smiled while doing so.
"Mr. Black, I am afraid I promised to read to Lady Beatrice. So you see, we should not be disturbed."
"Are you trying to get rid of me, Miss Marrick?” His tone no longer sounded charming. “I stopped by for a pleasant chat,” he said. “And I assure you I have no intention of leaving until I am ready to do so."
"Well, then, I quite understand, Mr. Black, and I will leave you to chat with Lady Beatrice. I have several other things that need my attention.” Clarissa stood and walked across the room to her bedchamber.
"And where do you think you are going, Miss Marrick?"
Just then, Beatrice whined, “You said you were going to read to me after tea, Miss Clarissa. I shall not
go to my room until you do."
"I shall be in my bedchamber, m'lady. You need only call for me when Mr. Black leaves."
"I want you now! Read to me right now!” Beatrice exclaimed.
Clarissa turned and said, “I am sorry, Mr. Black. As you can see, my pupil's wishes come first."
Black scowled at her, then replied with a look that said this was only the first skirmish in their battle of wits. “Very well, Miss Marrick. You win—for the moment.” He left without another word, the schoolroom door closing behind him.
Clarissa picked up the book she planned to read to Beatrice and walked back to the schoolroom. After the girl was put to bed, and she was left alone in the schoolroom with the door locked, irritation seeped out of Clarissa's pores. Jane was right. She would most assuredly write Frederic Black into her book as the villain—a very unpleasant one indeed.
Chapter Eighteen
A number of guests had arrived late yesterday, and most had settled into their bedchambers and were still abed. Clarissa and Beatrice were mounting the steps of the central staircase after concluding their morning ride when Clarissa spotted a male figure in the corridor beyond the second storey's landing. The man paused, then started toward them.
Clarissa's heart skipped a beat until she realized it was not Mr. Black. The man she saw was taller. When he came her way, she realized it was the marquess. She had neither seen or spoken with him since their initial meeting. Now a decisive fluttering began in her chest; he was so gratifying to look at.
"Good morning,” he greeted them with the rough tone she remembered hearing, nodding perfunctorily toward both of them.
Clarissa curtsied.
"Good morning, Your Lordship,” she replied, hoping to find this opportunity to speak with him about Beatrice. “Uh ... I wonder if I might speak with you when you have time."
The marquess curved that right eyebrow before replying. “I am free at the moment, Miss Marrick. Do you have a problem that needs tending?"
Clarissa turned to Beatrice and smiled quickly down at her charge. “Please wait for me in the schoolroom, Lady Beatrice. Have your penmanship papers ready for me to look over after Nanny helps you change, will you?” she said with a smile. “Thank you. I shall only be a few moments."
Beatrice scooted a fast look up at her father, almost afraid what she might read on his face. She did not want Miss Clarissa dismissed. She liked her much better then she liked Miss Hornsby. But she dare not confront her father if he did so or even stand up for her new governess. She saw him so seldom, she scarcely knew him. Even when she was a child in leading strings, he had intimidated her. So now, she followed Clarissa's request and hurried down the hall in the direction of the schoolroom.
"Well, Miss Marrick? When are you going to tell me what is wrong?” the marquess asked.
"Nothing is wrong, Your Lordship, but can we speak somewhere private?"
The marquess's eyebrow rose a second time. Did this hoydenish governess wish to diddle with him? If so, he was more than willing.
Alex looked around, knowing there were unoccupied rooms near the schoolroom. Most of them had never been opened for guests. He had gotten his comeuppance in one of them by the same hoydenish governess one night when he had been sorely foxed. He remembered the sting. She had wantonly kissed him, though, while they were on horseback. Did she now want to sport with him?
He purposely had not invited the Countess of Devon to the Priory for this house party, and thus, was unable to satisfy himself sexually yet today. Georgie's cloying ways had really started to annoy him with her possessiveness. She needed a stiff lesson from him to learn he was not her property and never would be. Alex knew he could claim attentions of one or more of the ladies in the Regent's retinue when Prinny arrived.
Alex took Clarissa's elbow and directed her to a door a short distance away. “This room will do. Please step in here."
Clarissa gulped after she was inside. It was a bedchamber. A small one with a bed, a wardrobe, and a few scattered armchairs placed before a fireplace. The window drapes were half closed, allowing only a small amount of light to filter into the dim interior.
"We shall not be disturbed here, Miss Marrick. What is it you wish to ... uh ... discuss with me?"
Alex closed the door.
Clarissa was unaware that he had snapped the lock and stood facing her, his hands clasped behind his back. There was a slight pause, then he said, “I am waiting. Or do you wish that I begin."
Clarissa quickly began. “Lady Beatrice and I had a gallop this morning, Your Lordship,” she said. “I assure you I now make certain we are quite careful where we ride, mostly in another direction from that field. Your daughter showed me safer places to gallop. Riding your wonderful horse has been my deep pleasure, Your Lordship. It is quite exhilarating to ride such an animal as Glory. I am grateful again for your permission to do so."
"Is that what you wished to tell me?” Alex took a step toward her and unclasped his hands, letting them hang loose at his sides. “If so, I accept your thanks."
Clarissa realized he was almost upon her. She stepped back, but then bumped into the bed against the back of her knees. Slightly unbalanced, she emitting a tiny, “Oomph!"
Alex reached out to steady her. “Perhaps you would care to thank me in some other way?"
She noticed the marquess's eyes had darkened from silvery gray to dark granite in the dim room as he gazed down at her. He seemed extra tall, more intimidating this morning. His handsome, bronzed face hovered above the crisply tied linen of his cravat. The finely-tailored dark blue jacket smoothed over his perfect torso. He was indeed a man who would always garner a lot of female attention. Clarissa finally realized how often he had been in her thoughts since their first encounter in the field.
A tiny spike of warning bolted through her. She gulped air when he slowly took both of her hands into his. The heat of his skin penetrated through the tiny worn places in the palms of the thin kid gloves she used for riding. She was so surprised by his touch that she did not pull her hands away. She floundered a bit, forgetting what else she had planned to ask him. When she did finally attempt to pull her hands away, he held on, tightening his grip.
"Don't,” he said, his calm tone sounding almost as if he were a bit amused by her decision. “You need not worry that I am going to hurt you."
"But ... Your Lordship...” Her words trailed away.
"I believe I must confess something, Miss Marrick."
Clarissa's gaze locked with his. They stood facing each other, hands clasped. She never had a really good look at him during their first meeting. More of a general impression. Then he assisted her off his horse almost immediately and galloped away.
Now she saw his dark eyelashes were long and thick, framing his silvery pupils. His aquiline nose was straight and narrow as a spear. His high cheekbones had been sculpted by an artist's hand. There was a small cleft dented in his square chin, and his mouth above it was wide, the lips smooth.
Clarissa's heart began to thud against her ribs.
"But..."
"Hush! You chatter too much. Just listen to me,” he said, his brow wrinkling with a noticeable frown. “I had no idea you were Beatrice's new governess until we met in the field. I had no way of knowing, since I am not usually involved with hiring female employees of any sort."
"Of course not. We never met before to my knowledge,” Clarissa hurried to reply, a small frown creasing her brow.
"Ah, but we did, Miss Marrick. Right here in this hallway. I believe I behaved less than a gentleman."
Clarissa's eyes opened wide. The man who grabbed her across from the schoolroom. She winced. It had to be the marquess. He must have been deep in his cups when he fondled her.
"I thought ... I mean I was certain it was Mr. Black who was the scoundrel. And I met him face-to-face only a few days ago."
"Ah, is that so?” Alex grimaced, then chuckled. “Then Freddy already has his eye on you for dalliance. Clever fellow."
"Would you rather that I place you under my protection?"
"Under your protection? What? From Mr. Black, do you mean?"
"Well, yes, that, and whatever else it entails, I am afraid.” He met her gaze squarely. “Have you never heard the term mistress, Miss Marrick?"
Her mouth fell open slightly before she clamped it shut.
"If you agree, I can make certain that Freddy will not be a nuisance to you in the schoolroom or elsewhere if that is what you wish.” Alex's gaze held Clarissa's. “You have only to say yes, Miss Marrick. But then, you need not answer me this instant.” Then he reached over and pushed an errant curl from Clarissa's brow. “You are extremely lovely, you know."
Clarissa's skin burned where he lightly touched her brow.
His surprising proposition was totally improper. I should be outraged. However, at least now I know he is no different than Frederic Black. Unmarried noblemen are like birds of a feather. They flock together. Why, indeed, should I be so surprised?
She already overheard the gossip from the lips of the Priory's servants. Nevertheless, a quiver of excitement traced through her.
However, right now, she was not sure how to handle this mistress query and still turn him down without being let go. “I will not need your help, thank you, Your Lordship. I have always been able to take care of myself."
"I am sure you can, Miss Marrick. But there are some things you never learned as yet. Am I correct?"
"Of course, I do not know everything,” she snapped back. “Not even the nasty things that go on in your world."
The marquess's face clouded over with a scowl.
Had she angered him too much? If so, she had better tiptoe around that dastardly offer.
"Your Lordship,” she began, changing the conversation to a topic more comfortable. “I was reading about your birds after Lady Beatrice showed them to me. I knew nothing about them, and I am quite fascinated by the pretty little things."
A Temporary Governess Page 11
