by Anne Herries
‘The manager of a mine and from the North of England, I think?’ Rupert nodded, pleased because he’d detected the slight inflection in her voice, especially when she was disturbed. ‘You are an unusual governess, Miss Goodrum. I believe we shall rub along well enough—providing that I do not discover you have lied to your employer and to me.’
Her head came up at that and her eyes flashed with temper. Rupert was tempted to laugh. He’d thought her merely attractive at the start, but he was beginning to see that there was much more to Miss Hester Goodrum than met the eye. He would swear that there was fire banked just beneath the surface.
‘Was there anything else, sir?’
‘Oh, yes,’ Rupert replied with a smile. ‘I believe we’ve only just begun, Miss Goodrum. However, we shall leave it for the moment. You will do me the honour of dining with me this evening, I hope?’
For a moment she hesitated, then she gave him a straight look that took the wind out of his sails. ‘As I am sure you know, that would not be appropriate, Lord Myers. A governess may be asked to dine with the family on occasion, but only when the mistress of the house is present—and certainly not alone with a gentleman.’
‘How disappointing. Now you are being a proper governess. I had hoped we might get to know each other better. Besides, Francesca and John will be dining with me. Did you really imagine I was asking you to dine intimately, Miss Goodrum? I assure you I would only do that if I had seduction in mind.’
Now the colour was high in her cheeks. She took a moment to control herself, as if afraid of speaking too quickly and betraying herself into unwise words.
‘I think you like to mock, sir. I am certain you had no such thing in mind. Why should you?’ She hesitated, then, ‘If Francesca is to dine with you, perhaps I should also be present. You may be here as John’s mentor, but you are a single gentleman and Francesca is an impressionable young girl. I think I must act as her chaperon.’
‘How wise of you to change your mind,’ he murmured softly, adding, as she left, in a voice she could not catch, ‘And who, I wonder, will chaperon you, Miss Goodrum?’
Chapter Three
Sarah went straight up to her room. Mrs Brancaster had asked her to return to her sitting room after the interview, but she needed a little time alone to calm her nerves. When she’d suggested that she change places with Hester Goodrum she had not dreamed she would have to run the gauntlet of those steel-grey eyes and that razor-sharp mind. Lord Myers was a man of the world and very intelligent. As herself, Sarah would have felt his equal, well able to parry any darts he fired at her, but she was at a disadvantage because she was here under false pretences. Lord Myers had warned her that he would not take kindly to lies on her part and she could imagine what he would think and say if he discovered the truth.
Cold chills ran down her spine. What on earth would she do if she were exposed as an impostor? It would be so very embarrassing and could ruin her reputation. For a moment she was tempted to turn tail and run away now before she was dragged into something beyond her control, but pride would not let her.
No, she was doing nothing wrong … not terribly wrong anyway. Having embarked on her masquerade, she could at least stay to greet the children. If the challenge became too much for her she could always hand in her notice and leave and no one would be any the wiser. Besides, it was unlikely that anyone she knew would visit Cavendish Park and, providing she gave good service, her employer would have no cause for complaint.
Having calmed her fears, Sarah changed into a fresh gown. It was clean, neat and clearly the kind of plain no-nonsense dress that a governess would be expected to wear. She pulled at the bodice because it was a little tight across her breasts. Although of similar heights, she and Hester were of a different build, Sarah being rather more curvy.
However, the dress fitted well enough and perhaps she would have time to let out the seams a little. Had she been impersonating a maid there would have been a uniform but governesses were expected to provide their own gowns.
Sarah wondered how much Hester had been promised as her wage. It was one of the many things she hadn’t had time to discuss and now regretted. Money was not a problem for the moment, because she still had several guineas in her purse and would need very little while she stayed here. She might miss her clothes and favourite pieces of jewellery, but had decided to have her trunks stored until further notice. Had the housekeeper decided to investigate her closet, it would not have done to have a dozen silk dresses hanging there. Mrs Brancaster would have immediately thought the worst, because there was only one way a governess could come by such gowns.
Hester Goodrum had given her the reference from Lady Mary, also the schedule she’d intended to set for Francesca and John. A swift perusal had left Sarah feeling that it was sadly lacking in imagination and she made a few notes in the margins of lessons she thought a young woman might enjoy.
Making her way downstairs to the kitchens, she heard voices and, since her name was mentioned, hesitated outside the door.
‘What do you think of her, then?’ a woman’s voice asked. ‘Will she last longer than a month, do you think?’
‘Well, Cook, all I can tell you is that she seems very sure of herself—and that’s what I told his lordship. She’s not like any of the others so she might just succeed where they failed.’
‘I hope as you’re right, Mrs Brancaster. Those young devils were in here earlier and they took all the cake I’d baked yesterday and I had to start all over again.’
‘Well, let’s hope she can keep them in order—’ Mrs Brancaster broke off as Sarah opened the door and walked in. ‘Ah, there you are, Miss Goodrum. We were just talking about you, wondering whether you would settle here.’
‘It is a lovely house and the grounds are magnificent,’ Sarah said. ‘Have Miss Francesca and Master John returned yet?’
‘I believe they went upstairs just a few moments ago. His lordship said we’re to serve tea at the normal time—and he asked that you should join them in the drawing room. Says he’s going to introduce you to your pupils.’
‘Oh …’ Sarah’s heart hammered in her breast. ‘I thought I was to have tea with you, but if I’ve been summoned … Where is the drawing room, please?’
‘You recall the parlour? Well, the drawing room is at the far end of the corridor and looks out over the park. Shall I send one of the maids with you?’
‘No, I dare say I can find my own way.’
‘Well, Miss Goodrum, I’m pleased you’ve come,’ Cook said, wiping her hands on her apron. ‘In my opinion it’s time those youngsters were taught some discipline.’
‘I shall do my best to make them behave, but I can’t guarantee it.’ Sarah smiled. ‘I think Lord Myers will soon have Master John under his control. I hope I may have some success with preparing Miss Francesca for her future role.’
‘She’s been allowed to run wild and that’s the truth of it,’ Cook said. ‘Their grandfather has spoiled them too much in my opinion.’
‘Well, perhaps they just need someone to take an interest in their needs. If you will excuse me, I shall find my way to the drawing room before they ring for tea.’
Sarah left the kitchen and walked up the back stairs, letting herself out into one of the back halls. For a moment she looked about her, trying to get her bearings. Had they turned left or right for the parlour? It was a large house and if she took a wrong turning she might lose herself.
‘If you’re looking for the drawing room, Miss Goodrum, you turn to the right,’ a voice said. Sarah turned and found herself being addressed by a footman. He was young and attractive, with dark blond hair and blue eyes and his smile was friendly.
‘Oh, thank you,’ she said. ‘I visited the front parlour earlier, but couldn’t quite recall which way to turn.’
‘It’s easy enough once you get used to it,’ he said. ‘I’m Trevor Bent, Miss Goodrum. Your name is Hester, isn’t it?’
‘Yes, but I don’t like it,’ Sarah
said, her cheeks faintly pink. She hesitated, then, ‘My father called me Sarah. I prefer the name, if you don’t mind.’
‘I don’t mind,’ he replied and grinned. ‘May I call you Sarah—or am I being too forward?’
‘I don’t mind at all,’ she said. ‘Thank you for your help, Trevor.’
Turning in the direction the footman had pointed out, Sarah was pleased by the respectful admiration in the young man’s eyes. He seemed to like her and it was refreshing to know that he had no idea that she was rich. She was tired of being courted for her fortune—and, of late, a certain person’s pursuit had been nothing short of menacing. He was determined to push her into marriage and she was equally determined to resist—but her uncle and aunt were on his side, forever telling her what a good husband Sir Roger would make.
‘He’s a gentleman,’ Uncle Matthew had told her. ‘He won’t interfere in the running of the mills, but he’ll be there at your side to give you more authority. A woman alone can’t hope to mange everything your father left you.’
‘But I told you what he did—that he is a rogue. How can you say he would make a good husband for me?’
‘Reformed rakes make the best husbands,’ her aunt had told her with a foolish and rather coy smile. ‘I dare say he got carried away a little at the party by his love for you, Sarah. Gentlemen can be like that sometimes.’
‘Love is neither here nor there,’ her uncle had said. ‘A woman should be married and caring for her children, not managing the mills. Sir Roger has mills of his own and would take the burden from your shoulders.’
It was no use telling her uncle that Sir Roger left his mills to the care of neglectful overseers and was in danger of losing them—or that she would never subject her people to the kind of treatment they received from Sir Roger’s managers. Of course, Sir Roger never went near them himself. He was far too busy enjoying himself in London—and no doubt he imagined her money would allow him to continue with the life he desired.
Sarah had bitten back the hasty retort that rose to her lips. She had been managing her mills alone quite well, with the help of her managers. It was true that she had found it time-consuming, giving her little leisure for herself, which was why she’d decided to take this time out. Yet she would hate to relinquish them to a man like Sir Roger.
As she approached the drawing room, she heard the sound of voices raised.
‘Why doesn’t Grandfather come himself?’ a girl’s voice said on a truculent note. ‘John and I are tired of being given boring lessons and told to get on with them. We want to see other people—to have some fun.’
‘Well, you have me now. I think John is old enough to start fencing lessons and I’ll teach you how to shoot—and we’ll go fishing and play cricket, but of course you will have to do some lessons. Your governess will take you for those, but I’ll take you both for drives into town. If you behave yourselves, that is.’
‘What about me? Why should John have all the fun while I get stuck with a boring governess?’
‘I’m afraid that is a woman’s lot in life,’ Lord Myers said, but with a teasing note in his voice. ‘I dare say Miss Goodrum may allow you some fun if you behave.’
‘We don’t need her here. Why can’t we just have …?’
Sarah walked into the room. A very pretty fair-haired girl and an equally attractive youth were standing in front of the open hearth with Lord Myers. They looked cross and upset, a contrast to the carefree children she’d observed in the grounds. The girl’s English-rose colour heightened as she turned and saw her.
‘Ah, here is Miss Goodrum,’ Lord Myers said into the hushed silence. ‘As you can see, ma’am, the truants have returned. I have decided they will receive no more than a warning for this day’s escapade, but I shall not be so lenient in future.’
‘I dare say no harm was done,’ Sarah replied. ‘It was a perfect day for fishing after all. Since we did not arrive until half the day was done, it would have been a shame to waste it all indoors. I am hoping to walk with you both on pleasant days. There is no need to sit at a desk to learn. We can observe nature and practise our Latin verbs while on a walk, John—and I think you, Francesca, may find the discussion of your favourite poets as interesting in a meadow as a musty schoolroom.’
The girl’s cheeks went white and then pink. She was clearly undecided whether to show appreciation or hold on to her reserve.
‘Mr Morton made me spend the whole morning doing exercises while he sat in his chair and read a book,’ John exclaimed indignantly. ‘I want to play games and do things.’
‘So you shall.’ Sarah and Lord Myers spoke at the same time. ‘There are many ways to learn,’ Sarah finished while the mentor looked at her through narrowed eyes.
‘What about me?’ Francesca gave them a sulky look. ‘What am I supposed to do?’
‘Learn some manners for a start,’ Lord Myers said. ‘You’ve neither of you welcomed Miss Goodrum to Cavendish Park.’
‘She didn’t have to come here.’ Francesca said rudely. ‘I’m too old for the schoolroom.’
‘That is why I intend to teach you to dance,’ Sarah said, unruffled by the girl’s sulky manner. ‘We should discuss society and what kind of people you may encounter—and the conversations you may have with friends and acquaintances. Also, you will need to know how to spot a rake and how to avoid being compromised by ruthless gentlemen.’
Francesca’s eyes opened wide. She stared in disbelief, her mouth slightly parted. ‘What did you say?’
‘We shall naturally discuss poetry and literature and you will need to practise your drawing, embroidery and the instrument of your choice—but learning to dance, to enter a room, to curtsy and to hold your own when a gentleman flirts with you is very important. You will need those skills before you have your Season.’
‘You don’t want me to write an essay on the decline of the Roman Empire or conjugate French verbs?’
‘I imagine you’ve had a varied and extensive education. We can discover the boundaries of your knowledge together in conversation. A young woman of fashion must be able to converse intelligently, do you not agree, my lord?’
Sarah risked a look at Lord Myers, who was watching her with narrowed eyes. She was not sure whether they expressed suspicion or disbelief.
‘Most young ladies of my acquaintance are too missish to say boo to a goose. They repeat phrases parrot-fashion and then lapse into embarrassed silence if asked a question.’
‘Too harsh, my lord!’ Sarah laughed, her face lighting with amusement. ‘Well, I shall hope that Francesca will have more to say for herself on her debut. If she has not, I shall have failed in my duties.’
‘Remarkable …’ Lord Myers’s eyes held a look of calculation. ‘Francesca, I think you have been more fortunate than any of us imagined in your new governess. My only question is—how did Lady Mary ever bring herself to part with you?’
Sarah refused to lower her eyes. He was probing, trying to get beneath her skin, but she would not allow him that privilege.
‘Lord Myers is using mockery, Francesca,’ she said in a calm and composed manner. ‘Were I a young woman of fashion I might do one of two things. If I wished to encourage him, I might give him an enigmatic smile and flirt with my fan—or, if I wish to discourage his advances, I should raise an eyebrow and move on without answering.’
‘Here endeth the first lesson,’ Lord Myers drawled. ‘It is actually good advice, Francesca. May one ask which you would have chosen, Miss Goodrum?’
‘I shall leave that to your imagination, my lord,’ Sarah replied, but was relieved when the door opened and the housekeeper entered accompanied by two maids, each of whom carried a tray. ‘Ah, here is our tea. Would you like to play the hostess, Francesca?’
Francesca shot her a nervous look, but took her seat next to a small occasional table. Mrs Brancaster set up her butler’s tray, exchanged a few words with Lord Myers, looked curiously at Sarah and left, taking one of the maids with her.
‘You are aware that you begin with the lady of first rank,’ Sarah told Francesca as her hand hovered. ‘However, since I am the governess, you should begin with Lord Myers and then me and then your brother. Were there several ladies of rank you should attempt to serve the highest rank first and then, when all the ladies are served, go on to the gentlemen and begin again in the same way.’
‘Miss Goodrum may be correct,’ Lord Myers said. ‘But in my opinion ladies are always first—of whatever rank. You may serve Miss Goodrum tea first, Francesca.’
Sarah shot a look at him, but did not contradict him. ‘I take my tea with lemon, no milk or sugar,’ she said and smiled as Francesca lifted the heavy pot. The girl’s hand trembled slightly but she accomplished the ceremony without accident, handing the cup to the maid who delivered it to Sarah, and serving Lord Myers next. He asked for milk and one sugar and then accepted a sandwich and fruit tartlet from the hovering maid.
After everyone had been served with tea and cake, Francesca looked at Sarah. She inclined her head and the maid was dismissed.
‘Did your last governess take tea with you both?’
‘No, she preferred to take hers in the kitchen,’ John answered, a trifle indignant. ‘Fran and me had most of our meals in the nursery together. The only time the drawing room was used was when Grandfather came down and we had guests. Mrs Brancaster served us then—or sometimes Cousin Agatha.’
‘Fran and I,’ Sarah gently corrected. ‘Your cousin visits you from time to time?’
‘Only at Christmas,’ John said. ‘We’ve been on our own for years, haven’t we, Fran?’
‘Yes.’ Francesca sipped her tea. She had crooked her little finger in an affected way, but as she looked at Sarah and saw that she held her cup in a more relaxed manner she did the same. ‘We’re both bored. Why can’t we have friends here to picnics and dances?’
‘We might have a dance on your seventeenth birthday. It’s a few weeks before Christmas,’ Lord Myers said. ‘If you attend to your dancing lessons and whatever else Miss Goodrum has to teach you, you may be ready then. We might start to entertain a few visitors, though—just to dinner and cards or some such thing.’
