A Family for the Widowed Governess

by Ann Lethbridge

  ‘Is Miss Ladbrooke willing to take on another pupil, I wonder?’ The new governess had settled in really well after a shaky start. He certainly did not want to scare her off by adding another charge to her duties.

  ‘Oh, yes,’ Lizzie said airily. ‘She is quite consanguine about the idea.’

  Consanguine? Oh. He forced himself not to grin. ‘You mean sanguine, my dear. Consanguine addresses the closeness of two individuals’ relationship to each other.’

  She wrinkled her nose. ‘I know that. Actually, I thought it was a strange thing for her to say when I looked up the meaning. But you are right, sanguine is what she said.’

  He gave her a sharp look and she blushed. ‘Well, no. She said the other word. But it must have been what she meant.’

  He sighed. He would have to have a word with Miss Ladbrooke about checking the meaning of words before she used them. The woman tried her best, but she was not Lady Marguerite, that was certain. Lady Marguerite would never have made such a mistake.

  Although very nice, she was not Lady Marguerite in so many ways.

  ‘Why are you sad, Papa?’ Lizzie asked.

  He realised with a start he had let his mind wander to the ways in which the governess was nothing like his beloved. Damn. He was trying his best not to think of Marguerite that way. They were friends. Mere acquaintances, now. ‘I am not sad, dear. Why do you say that?’

  ‘Because you hardly laugh any more. Not even at Netty’s antics.’

  Didn’t he? He hadn’t noticed. ‘I am very busy at the moment. Dealing with lambs and planting and such.’

  She nodded. ‘Can we have a party for Nanny James?’

  ‘A party?’

  ‘Yes. To say goodbye.’

  ‘I expect the servants—’

  She stuck out her jaw. ‘No. Our family should hold a party. She raised us and Mama, too. She deserves a good send-off. Miss Ladbrooke says her family had a party for her nanny when the old lady retired.’

  Good for Miss Ladbrooke. Devil take it, what harm could it do? ‘Very well. And who is to be invited to this party?’

  ‘Just family, mostly. Laughton, of course, And Mrs York and all the footmen and Mr Plum the gardener. Lucy. Me and Jane and Netty and you. I will look after the arrangements and the invitations. Miss Ladbrooke says it will be a good exercise for me to learn about my future duties as a wife.’

  He stared at her in astonishment. ‘Good heavens, child, you are far too young to be thinking of such things.’

  Lizzie looked crushed.

  ‘Oh, very well. If Miss Ladbrooke thinks it is a good idea, then I will leave the matter entirely in your hands.’

  She cheered instantly. ‘Thank you, Papa.’ She rose and dipped a little curtsy.

  He sat back in his chair and held his arms out. She came around the desk and kissed his cheek while he gave her a hug. ‘Run along, poppet,’ he said. ‘I will see you later for your riding lesson.’

  ‘Yes, Papa. Do not be late, like last time.’ She skipped out of the door.

  His little girl was growing up.

  Perhaps that was why he had felt so weary lately. He was getting old. Was thirty-five old?

  * * *

  ‘You are invited to attend the farewell party for Nanny James,’ the invitation read. The handwriting was childishly rounded and sported a couple of blots where the pen had dripped on to the paper.

  The event was an al fresco breakfast beside the lake and set for the next day at two in the afternoon at Bedwell Hall. Only regrets were requested in reply.

  There was a postscript on the reverse. ‘Nanny James asked for you to come especially.’

  Marguerite winced. No doubt Jack would be in attendance and that was going to be terribly embarrassing for both of them. But how could she refuse?

  She had told the girls she would be their friend for ever and clearly this farewell to Nanny James was an important event in their young lives. And yet another loss. A friend did not refuse an invitation when clearly their support in trying times was needed.

  The idea of having a party for a servant was rather odd, but then, Nanny James was more like family than a servant. Besides, Marguerite missed the girls. Lizzie’s letters were far too short to tell her very much about their true state of health and mind. And they never spoke of Jack at all.

  She wanted to know that he was all right. That he was happy. She also wanted to assure herself that she had been right to refuse him. Blast it, she wanted to know if they could remain friends. The thought of never seeing him again was painful indeed.

  Chapter Seventeen

  ‘Are we holding this party out of doors?’ Jack asked Lizzie, observing the activities of his footmen carrying blankets and baskets and chairs across the lawn and beyond the ha-ha.

  ‘Yes. It is al fresco,’ Lizzie said, coming to stand beside him.

  Jack glanced at the sky. There were a few puffy clouds floating by, but it was as fine a day as one could hope for in the spring. ‘Nanny James hates going out of doors. Her rheumatism plagues her if she gets the slightest bit of damp air anywhere near her.’

  ‘She is making an expectation,’ Lizzie said.

  ‘Exception.’

  ‘Yes.’

  Jack sighed. What he had thought would be a half-hour of tea and cakes in the nursery with the servants standing around looking uncomfortable was turning into a major banquet given the number of baskets of food being paraded across the lawn. ‘Exactly where are you holding it?’

  ‘Beside the lake. It has the prettiest view.’

  He turned away from the window. ‘Well, young lady, I suggest you go and make sure all is in readiness for your guests. I will be there at the appointed time.’

  Lizzie shuffled her feet. ‘Papa, since you are the host, would you mind coming a half-hour before to be ready to greet our guests, in case anyone comes early?’

  ‘What sort of anyone? It is only us and the servants.’

  ‘It is what the host is supposed to do,’ she said stubbornly. She clasped her hands before her in a gesture of appeal. How could any man resist that look in those large brown eyes?

  ‘Very well, I will be there a half-hour before the guests are due to arrive.’

  ‘Thank you, Papa.’ She beamed. ‘Then you should probably go and dress.’

  He shook his head, but could not resist smiling at her happiness. ‘Very well, daughter. Off I go to do your bidding.’

  They left the study together, but Lizzie headed for the kitchen, while Jack headed upstairs where he found his valet waiting to help him into a coat of blue superfine and a pair of buff pantaloons. ‘Do not tell me my daughter decided this is what I should wear to this party of hers.’

  ‘She wants you to look your best, my lord,’ his unflappable valet answered, assisting him out of his morning jacket and into something almost fit for a London ballroom.

  Perhaps he ought to have a word with Miss Ladbrooke. Lizzie was taking this idea of being the lady of the house too far.

  * * *

  Nevertheless, he arrived at the grassy area beside the lake at exactly two o’clock. Blankets were scattered on the lawn. There were several chairs set beside four small tables, no doubt for those who would not feel comfortable sitting on the grass. There was also a trestle table set beneath a large shady oak tree and the baskets he’d seen earlier were ranged along it.

  The lake gleamed in the spring sunshine. The trees on the little island in the middle stirred with the light breeze and the vista from here was spectacular. Lizzie was right, it was the prettiest spot on the Bedwell estate.

  ‘Lord Compton.’

  He spun around. A vision in a pale blue gown, a lacy shawl and a little straw bonnet, holding a jaunty yellow sunshade, walked briskly across the lawn.

  ‘Lady Marguerite?’ It seemed Lizzie was right. Someone had come early
. A faint suspicion leaked into his mind. Was this some sort of plot? ‘I had no idea—I mean, welcome. You are a little early, but everyone should be here shortly.’

  She looked puzzled. ‘Early? My invitation said two.’

  What the devil? ‘Mine said half-past two, but I was asked to be here a half-hour before.’

  They both looked at each other and laughed. ‘It seems we are to be given some time alone,’ she said. ‘Lizzie’s idea, do you think?’

  The back of his neck prickled. Was Lizzie hiding somewhere? Watching? ‘I beg your pardon. If I had any notion of what was planned, I would have warned you.’

  ‘She is quite the rascal,’ she said, smiling wistfully. ‘I do miss your daughters, you know.’

  He missed Marguerite like the very devil. He put out his arm. ‘Walk with me, while we wait for the rest of them to show up. Heaven knows what time it says on their invitations. Besides, the view is lovely and the day perfect for a stroll.’

  They sauntered down to the lake. There was a punt tied up at the dock. A ribbon fluttered at its prow and the cushion on the seat looked comfortable.

  ‘My word, it is years since I had a boat out,’ Jack said.

  ‘It looks inviting.’

  And offered a chance to be alone. He’d been thinking about his talk with Lizzie. About how another person couldn’t know how you felt if you didn’t tell them. He’d not really told Marguerite how he felt. Perhaps this was his chance, when there was nothing else going on and no one to interrupt them.

  And if she rejected him again? He was going to feel like an idiot. But at least he would not spend the rest of his life wondering if he should have said what was in his heart.

  ‘Allow me.’ He helped her into the punt.

  She smiled teasingly. ‘Are you sure you know what you are doing?’

  He pushed the boat off, leapt in and picked up the pole. ‘Let us hope so.’

  She laughed. She sounded carefree.

  He felt happy. He had felt happy since the moment he turned and saw her walking towards him, as if the sky was bluer and the birds’ song was sweeter and the air was warmer.

  For the first few minutes, he punted slowly along, following the bank and letting the beauty of the day wash through him.

  She twirled her parasol and smiled up at him. ‘You are an expert.’

  He grinned. ‘I am simply praying the pole doesn’t get stuck in the mud.’

  She laughed. ‘How are you, Jack?’

  He loved hearing his name on her lips. ‘I am well. How are you?’

  ‘Much better now my problems are solved, thank you. I am waiting to hear from my publisher about a new project.’

  He turned the craft and headed for the island in the middle of the lake.

  She gave him a quizzical glance.

  ‘If I remember correctly, you can see Bedwell Hall from this island. I have often thought it would be a good place from which to paint a view of the house. Perhaps you would care to give me your opinion?’

  Her mouth turned down a fraction. ‘I am no landscape painter, but if you wish...’

  He did wish. He wished for so much more.

  They made a gentle landing amid the reeds growing around a small landing stage where they debarked without getting their feet wet.

  The island was more overgrown than Jack remembered. He used to come here regularly as a boy, but he had never brought his daughters here. He should have. He would, later this afternoon.

  He forced a path through the undergrowth, holding back brambles for Lady Marguerite to pass by until they reached the bank on the other side. From here they could clearly see the picnic area. There were still no other guests in sight. How long had Lizzie given him to be alone with Marguerite?

  She came up alongside him and looked out. ‘Oh, my word, yes. This would make a wonderful painting.’

  He tucked her hand under his arm. ‘Would you paint it for me?’

  ‘Oh, Jack. Thank you so much for asking me, but I do not think I could do it justice.’

  ‘How will you know if you do not try? Besides, I have seen your drawings. They would do justice both to nature and the architecture.’

  She looked doubtful.

  ‘Think about it,’ he said. ‘I am confident you can do this, because you care about Bedwell and the family.’ He cast her a quick glance. ‘Of course, it would require you spending many hours here.’

  She made a soft sound of protest. ‘You are surely not suggesting we continue our affair?’

  Did she have to sound so dismissive?

  ‘No. Actually I am not.’

  ‘Oh, I see.’

  Was that a hint of disappointment in her voice? He surely hoped so. He led her to the small wrought-iron bench someone had thoughtfully set here.

  He smiled at a recollection. ‘When I was a boy, this was the prow of my ship as I sailed up the Amazon or down the Nile.’ Today it was a haven of peace with a beautiful view. He seated her and sat down beside her, enjoying the feel of her thigh against his in the tight space.

  ‘You had a vivid imagination as a boy,’ she said.

  ‘I did. As an only child it helped pass the time. At least, until my papa decided it was time to learn the business of being an earl.’

  ‘Would you have sooner gone adventuring?’

  He thought about that for a moment, as he had not thought about it for years. ‘No. I am perfectly content. Or at least almost perfectly content.’

  ‘Almost?’

  He took a deep breath. ‘I find I enjoy things more when there is someone with whom to share them.’

  Her hand shifted beneath his arm, but he pretended not to notice.

  ‘You miss your wife,’ she said. ‘I expect you will marry again. You need an heir.’

  ‘I would like an heir of my body, but there are cousins and so forth, if I am not fortunate enough to find the right partner.’

  ‘The right partner?’

  ‘My first marriage was arranged by our parents. I came to love my wife, as I love my children. But I was never in love. I did not know what that meant.’

  He turned. The view of her face was just as lovely as the scenery. Perhaps more so, despite that she looked anxious. He hated the worry on her face, yet if he did not speak, how would she ever know of his feelings?

  She opened her mouth to speak, but he pressed a finger to her lips. ‘Let me finish, please. I was a fool when I proposed to you.’

  She blinked. ‘Oh.’

  He frowned, but shook off the feeling he had said something wrong. Instead, he charged ahead. ‘I should have told you how I have come to care for you. I hope and pray I have not left it too late to do so. While I adore the way my children accepted you into their hearts, I never told you how much I love you. I love you more than life itself, to be honest. Since you left, I have been surrounded by people, yet I have felt lonely. It was as if a gloom had descended upon me. My children bring me great happiness, but you bring me joy. That is why I wish us to wed. I can only hope I am not too late in speaking of what is in my heart.’

  She put her free hand to her breast. ‘Jack. I am dreadfully fond of you. I have missed the children terribly. And I have missed you. I—I do love you. Deeply. I am just afraid—’

  ‘If it makes any difference, I must tell you I threw away my lists of rules. I was stupid to think I could control everything and everyone around me. I have come to the conclusion that when two people love each other, they find the right path together.’

  He glanced at her troubled expression with trepidation, but continued, since there would likely not be another opportunity to say all that was on his mind. ‘I do realise this is rather sudden for you, though I have known these things in my heart for quite some time. If your heart is not engaged the way mine is, I will understand. Whatever your decision, I will respect
it and will not press you again after today, though I find it hard to imagine my life without you. Honestly, I could not let you go without telling you how deeply I love you.’

  * * *

  Marguerite had never seen Jack look so hopeful or so anxious, when to her he had always seemed so full of confidence. Her heart seemed to swell in her chest. It took courage for a man to reveal his feelings, but the part of what he said that struck her to the depth of her being was what he had said about his rules. And about partnership.

  That was what her sisters had with their husbands, she realised. That was what made them seem so happy and at peace. They were loved, but more importantly they were respected and trusted.

  And that was the foundation of love. Mutual trust. In her heart, she knew he was not a man who would ever go back on his word. He was honourable and true and kind and caring. And he loved her.

  And she trusted in his love. And, yes, she trusted in hers, too. ‘I do love you, Jack.’

  ‘But?’

  ‘But nothing.’

  He frowned. ‘Are you saying you will marry me?’

  She smiled, picked up his gloved hand resting on his knee and brought it to her lips. ‘Yes, Jack. I am saying yes.’

  He gusted out a sigh, scooped her up and sat her on his lap. He proceeded to kiss her. With passion and desire and...

  ‘Jack,’ she muttered. ‘The other guests will arrive on that bank over there in a very few moments.’

  He lifted his head. ‘So... Am I not permitted to kiss my fiancée?’

  ‘Oh, my word. Yes, I suppose you are.’

  ‘Wait. I have something. I meant to do this properly, but I was so worried you were going to say no again—’ He retrieved a little velvet bag from his pocket and pulled out a pretty ring of rubies and diamonds. ‘This was my grandmother’s.’ He slid her off his lap and dropped to one knee.

  ‘Marguerite, my darling, will you marry me?’

  She couldn’t help herself, her smile seemed almost too wide for her face. ‘Yes,’ she whispered. ‘Yes, please.’