The Mysterious Miss Fairchild (HQR Historical)

by Sarah Mallory

  ‘Very well.’ She dug her nails into her palms until they hurt in an effort to speak calmly. ‘I thought, my lord, that you wished to marry me.’

  ‘That was when I believed you had no other option. Everything has changed. You are a princess. You have the world at your command.’

  With the window behind him, she could not read his expression. But his voice was hard, devoid of all emotion.

  ‘I do not want the world.’

  The Prince pushed himself out of his chair and gave a small tut of displeasure. ‘Now that, Natalya, is a most foolish statement. How can you know what you want until you have tried it?’

  ‘His Serene Highness speaks the truth,’ said Tristan. ‘You have the opportunity to live a life of untold luxury and privilege. Your every wish will be granted.’

  ‘No, it won’t!’

  She flung the words at him. Suddenly she was fighting for her life. She jumped up, frustrated by the evening sunlight that kept his face in shadow. She took a step closer.

  ‘I thought you loved me.’

  ‘I felt sorry for you.’

  His words hit her like cold water. She stopped, throwing out an arm to grip the chair-back and steady herself.

  ‘I d-do not believe you.’

  ‘Oh, I think you should, my dear,’ said the Prince, coming towards her. ‘I understand Lord Dalmorren’s dilemma. Here is a young woman, frightened, alone. Without parents or family. She is in need of protection. Any man of honour would feel the same. But now he understands that is not the case. You are not alone. You have a family and the opportunity to make a great match.’ He touched her arm and said gently, ‘Think of it, Princess Natalya Mikhailovna. I will take you to your homeland, you will resume your rightful place in an ancient and much-respected Romanov family. Would you reject such an honour in order to remain in England and marry a mere baron?’

  Natalya looked at Tristan. He neither moved nor spoke. She tried to smile.

  ‘Would that be so very bad?’ she murmured.

  ‘As your grandfather I could not agree to it,’ the Prince announced coldly. ‘My lands, my fortune, can only pass to you if you return with me to Russia and live with your family. And if you marry anyone below your own rank, then you lose the right to call yourself Princess.’

  ‘And now I know you have family,’ added Tristan, ‘I cannot in honour marry you against their wishes.’

  ‘Thank you, Lord Dalmorren.’ The Prince bowed to him. ‘I am relieved to hear you say so. I can now die content, knowing the Borkusov fortune will pass through my direct line. I will take the Princess to Russia with me and she will become a much-loved and respected member of my household. My own dear wife died a few years ago and it will make me happy to see my granddaughter take her place as mistress of my properties. She may have charge of it all, if she so wishes.’

  ‘I can think of no woman more suited to take on that task, your Serene Highness.’ At last Tristan came away from the window. Natalya saw how pale he was, noted the tense line of his jaw. When he turned his gaze upon her, his eyes were as cold and hard as slate. ‘So. Everything is decided.’

  A sudden wave of anger flared in Natalya.

  ‘How dare you!’ Her furious glare moved from one man to the other. ‘Do you think I will allow the two of you to organise my life? How dare you be so presumptuous as to think you will decide what I should do. I shall make my own choice!’

  ‘You would be foolish beyond belief not to go with the Prince,’ said Tristan harshly. ‘There is nothing for you here, madam. There is no choice.’

  Natalya looked at the two men facing her, Tristan pale and implacable, the Prince coldly confident of the outcome. Her ragged breathing steadied. She had one final card to play. She knew it might cost her everything, but suddenly she felt quite calm.

  She said quietly, ‘Oh, but there is a choice, my lord. I can leave England with the Prince, or I can remain here. A ruined woman.’

  ‘I beg your pardon?’ The Prince stared at her.

  ‘Confound it, woman, say nothing more!’

  She ignored Tristan’s angry command and turned to her grandfather, meeting his startled gaze quite steadily.

  ‘You may be aware, your Highness, that when Lord Dalmorren rescued me, we were obliged to stay at Farnell Hall, some miles east of Devizes.’

  ‘Natalya, be quiet!’

  ‘For three nights, we slept in the same room. In the same bed.’

  The Prince shook his head. ‘But this cannot be. My son’s instructions for your upbringing were quite explicit. You were to remain unmarried, a maid, until you could be restored to your rightful station, when you would be a fitting bride for any prince in Russia.’ He scowled. ‘This Pridham, he wrote to me a long letter. He assured me nothing had occurred during your absence from his house!’

  ‘Mr Pridham wanted to engage a doctor to examine me—’

  Tristan’s statue-like demeanour shattered. He let out a roar.

  ‘He did what?’

  ‘I refused,’ Natalya kept her eyes fixed on the Prince. ‘I persuaded him it was not necessary. You may ask the servants at Farnell Hall if you wish. They will tell you we were Mr and Mrs Quintrell, man and wife, while we were there.’ She raised her chin. ‘I am no longer a maid. I gave myself to Lord Dalmorren out of love. I do not wish to marry anyone else and I doubt they will want to marry me, once they know the truth.’

  The Prince turned his outraged gaze upon Tristan. ‘Is this true, Lord Dalmorren?’

  ‘We shared a room, yes.’

  ‘And we shared a bed,’ added Natalya, meeting his eyes and daring him to contradict her.

  There followed a long, tense silence before Tristan exhaled sharply.

  ‘She would hardly make up such a story...’ his lips twitched ‘...just to marry a mere baron.’

  Only then did Natalya realise she had been holding her breath.

  ‘But you are the Nineteenth Baron Dalmorren,’ she reminded him, smiling.

  The look that passed between them was not lost on the Prince. He shook his head.

  ‘You are more like your father than I had thought, Natalya,’ he told her, a hint of petulance in his voice. ‘You will let your heart be ruled by love.’

  ‘I will. If love will have me.’ She held her hands out to Tristan. ‘You see, I do not want to be a princess. I want to be a lover, a companion, to face life’s challenges side by side with my mate.’

  The Prince closed his eyes and gave a little shudder.

  Tristan came over to her, smiling. ‘Such language, my love, you are embarrassing his Serene Highness.’

  ‘Which shows you just how far beyond redemption I am sunk!’ She took his hands and held them against her breast. ‘I love you, Tristan, and I will marry you, if you will have me. But if you have doubts, if you are not perfectly sure, I pray you will tell me. I am not quite destitute; I shall throw myself on Mrs Ancrum’s mercy. I am sure she will take me on as her companion.’

  ‘No need for that.’ He smiled down at her, his eyes warm. ‘I quite forgot to tell you, she informed me before I left that she has made you her heir.’

  ‘There you are, then, I am not at all to be pitied and you need not feel obliged to offer for me.’

  ‘I do not feel in the least obliged,’ he muttered, pulling her close. ‘I love you to distraction, my heart’s darling, and I want to marry you. More than anything in this whole damned world.’

  He kissed her then and for a long, long moment she forgot everything but the comfort of his embrace.

  Until a cough from his Serene Highness reminded them of their surroundings.

  ‘Da, da, you have convinced me that you will have one another and I shall not stand in your way. But there are practicalities we must discuss.’

  Tristan dragged his thoughts away from kissing Natalya and reluctantly raised hi
s head. ‘Practicalities? You need not concern yourself, Prince Borkusov, I will deal with everything.’

  ‘You are marrying my granddaughter, Baron Dalmorren. It must be done correctly.’

  Natalya twisted out of Tristan’s arms and turned to the Prince.

  ‘Oh, I thought you had quite cast me off.’

  ‘My lands and fortune must remain in Russian hands. If you will not come to Russia, then I cannot make you my heir. However, you remain my granddaughter and I shall do what I can for you while I am in England.’ He paused. ‘Let me see. By your English calendar it is the thirteenth today. If the marriage can take place before I leave on the twenty-second I will attend and give you my blessing.’

  Natalya shook her head. ‘It takes three weeks for the banns to be called.’

  ‘We might obtain a special licence,’ suggested Tristan. The Prince raised an enquiring brow and he explained, ‘The Archbishop of Canterbury will grant a special licence and a couple may be married wherever and whenever they wish.’

  ‘Ah. Then you may leave that to me. I shall attend to it.’

  Tristan coughed. ‘I think you might find, your Highness, that I need to visit the Archbishop in person.’

  The Prince waved this away with an imperious hand.

  ‘My aide-de-camp shall arrange the whole. Natalya will be married at the embassy, as befits her rank as my granddaughter. It is not impossible that one or two of the Allied Sovereigns, perhaps even your Prince Regent, might attend. If they are not engaged elsewhere.’

  ‘Wait, wait, I pray you,’ Natalya objected. ‘I have not agreed to any of this!’

  The Prince looked at her, one brow raised. ‘But you are desperate to marry your Baron, are you not?’

  ‘I am determined to marry him,’ she said. ‘But—’

  ‘Then it shall be as I say. I deplore your decision to marry beneath you, but I am a generous prince. I am a benevolent grandfather. I shall bestow upon you a handsome wedding settlement.’ He glanced at the clock. ‘Now. It is very late. We must have a room prepared for Lord Dalmorren tonight.’ He reached for the bell, then stopped. ‘No. I shall go and find Piotr myself.’

  * * *

  When he had left the room, Natalya and Tristan remained at a distance, looking warily at one another. Tristan was the first to break the uneasy silence.

  ‘I never expected his Serene Highness to show so much tact.’

  ‘Nor did I. But...’

  ‘But what, my darling?’

  She looked at him. ‘Oh, Tristan, have I coerced you most dreadfully into this marriage? I never meant to do that.’

  He laughed and closed the gap between them in a couple of strides.

  ‘I love you so desperately that I would marry you under any circumstances.’ He caught her hands. ‘The Russian Embassy is not where I expected to become leg-shackled, but it will do admirably. However, if you would prefer to marry in Bath, with all your friends, you must say.’

  She stopped him. ‘I have very few real friends, Tristan. I hope we can persuade Mrs Ancrum to travel here. There is just time for it to be arranged. But what of your family?’

  ‘Mama is currently with my sister and—!’ He broke off and raked a hand through his hair. ‘Good God, Freddie! How am I going to explain to him that I have stolen you for myself?’

  A little gurgle of laughter escaped her.

  ‘You have not stolen me at all, my lord. Freddie was well on the way to falling out of love with me before I was abducted.’ She twinkled up at him. ‘The Grishams are already in town and I think, if we can persuade them to come to the wedding and to bring Jane, you will see that your nephew’s affections are already turning elsewhere.’

  ‘Truly? Then I am very relieved to hear it! As I was saying, Mama, Katherine and Freddie are currently at Frimley, which is barely thirty miles from London so they will most definitely attend.’ He hesitated. ‘And what of the Pridhams?’

  Natalya’s smile slipped a little.

  ‘As my guardians for so many years they should be invited, although I find it hard to forgive them for telling me nothing about my origins!’

  ‘Ah, but if Pridham had defied his instructions, I might not have thought it necessary to come to Bath and see Freddie’s mysterious Miss Fairchild.’

  She looked up at him, her eyes wide with horror. ‘We might never have met! Oh, Tris, it doesn’t bear thinking of.’

  ‘Then don’t,’ he told her, pulling her into his arms. ‘Stop thinking and kiss me.’

  * * *

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  Keep reading for an excerpt from The Master’s New Governess by Eliza Redgold.

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  The Master’s New Governess

  by Eliza Redgold

  Chapter One

  ‘She is near, she is near;’

  —Alfred, Lord Tennyson: Maud (1855)

  Cornwall, 1855—

  ‘Once upon a time...’

  The words blurred in front of Maud Wilmot’s eyes. Before she could stop it, a tear trembled at the edge of her lashes, but she blinked it away.

  With shaking fingers, she closed the book of fairy tales and laid the worn blue leather volume with its faded gilt lettering on her lap. She traced her gloved finger over the title: Fairy Tales for Children.

  Even the familiar stories couldn’t comfort her.

  Another tear splashed on to the blue leather.

  Leaning her bonnet against the back of the leather carriage seat, she pressed her eyes shut, her shaking fingers still clutched around the book.

  ‘This will never do,’ she told herself, in her firmest governess voice.

  One deep breath.

  Then another.

  She wouldn’t cry. She mustn’t. She hadn’t let herself so far, and if she started now, seated in the train carriage bearing her nearer and nearer an unknown situation—her last, desperate chance—she might never stop. She hauled a third breath from deep inside her corset as the tears threatened to overcome her.

  No matter how anxious she felt, she wouldn’t let it get the better of her.

  Another breath. She let the motion of the locomotive lull her. She’d always loved travelling by train, not that she did it often, but it didn’t ease her agitation. She hadn’t managed to sleep the night before, tossing and turning, worrying about what lay ahead.

  What else could she do? It went against every fibre of her being, but she had no choice.

  Lord Melville’s voice jeered inside her head.

  No one will believe your story.

  As the train rolled along the tracks, her thoughts went back to the last few dreadful weeks.

  ‘Oh, Maud.’ Her sister, Martha, had hugged her. ‘How is it possible you have been dismissed? You’re the best governess I know.’

  ‘Thank you, Martha,’ Maud choked out. ‘But I have been dismissed without pay and without references, too.’

  She had applied for funds from the Governesses’ Benevolent Institution and was in lodgings; but the money wouldn’t last long.

  Martha hugged her again. ‘Perhaps I can talk to Albert—you can come and live with us.’

  ‘Absolutely not,’ Maud had replied, even as her heart was sinki
ng. She was running out of time. Soon she would be on the street. ‘You’re newlyweds, Martha. I have no intention of making myself a nuisance.’

  ‘You’d never be a nuisance,’ said Martha. ‘That’s why this is all so unfair!’

  ‘Unfair or not, I must find a way out of it.’ Maud knew she sounded braver than she felt, but she wasn’t going to burden Martha, not when her sister had just found happiness with Albert. And she hadn’t told Martha the full story.

  She could not.

  It was unspeakable.

  ‘What will you do now?’ Martha asked, her soft brown eyes wide and worried.

  Maud bit her lip. ‘I must find another position as a governess. It will be difficult, without references. Perhaps impossible. But I have no other means of supporting myself and I love teaching children. But after what happened—’ she clenched her hands ‘—no one will employ Miss Maud Wilmot.’

  It was then the idea had struck her. ‘Martha. Didn’t you tell me you had been offered a situation in Cornwall?’

  Martha nodded. ‘Yes, it was before Albert proposed. I applied and it took ever so long for them to get back to me. But then I got a letter, saying that they would be pleased to employ me at Pendragon Hall.’

  ‘Have you written back to them?’ Maud asked, hardly daring to voice the other question that came to mind. Of course, Martha would say no and that would be that. It was an absurd idea anyway.

  Martha shook the blonde ringlets on either side of her head. ‘Not yet.’

  ‘So they are still expecting a Miss Wilmot,’ Maud said slowly.

  She and Martha were around the same age, Martha two years older than Maud’s six and twenty. They had both spent quite a few years in service as governesses. They were both experienced.

  It could be done. It was foolhardy. Why, it was positively scandalous. But she had nothing left to lose. It must be done.

  ‘That’s right,’ Martha said, her eyes even wider. ‘Oh, Maud, you’ve got that look on your face, the one you get when you are telling a story...’