Breaking the Governess's Rules

by Michelle Styles

  She hated the way her heart screamed, but she could not do that. She refused to be tied to a man who kept her in ignorance, who decided what was best for her. She wanted to be an equal, not a doll.

  ‘I was wrong to make you come here.’ He pressed his fingers against the table.

  Louisa concentrated on keeping upright. When she got to her room, she’d weep. Her future would become as she had planned—no marriage, no large house, simply a cottage in Sorrento and the people she knew there. She knew she should be happy, but it felt as if all the light and bubbles had gone from the world. ‘I am pleased you have seen sense.’

  ‘I only wanted to do what was right, Louisa.’ He inclined his head. ‘I would have protected you if you had let me.’

  ‘By keeping me in ignorance! No, you wanted to protect the girl you thought I was. This type of protection would have destroyed me.’ She gave her head a small shake. ‘You know little about me and my life now. What I truly desire.’

  ‘If that is what you want to believe.’ He stood with the cool shadows of the summer house obscuring his features. Louisa longed to lay her head against his chest and say that she wanted him in her life, but she did not dare, not when he was in this mood.

  ‘And how much do you know of me? The man I am now? Or do you still mourn your long-ago lover?’ A faint smile touched his lips. ‘Give me a chance to prove that I do know this new you. Let us face the future together.’

  ‘I gave Miss Daphne my word. I will stay as long as she stays.’ Louisa gathered what dignity she had left. She had to go from the summer house, or she’d be in his arms. ‘I expect to speak with your stepmother before she leaves. Please arrange it for me. You owe me this, Jonathon. I deserve the chance to face her.’

  ‘It will be arranged.’ He made a perfect bow. ‘Is it ever lonely standing on your pedestal, Louisa?’

  Louisa used the strength remaining in her legs to carry her away from the summer house and into the hallway. She laid her cheek against the smooth wooden panelling. Half of her hoped he would come after her and the other half was delighted when he didn’t.

  ‘You are being awfully quiet,’ Miss Daphne said, reaching for her cameo brooch. ‘You have scarcely said a word since I returned from the Roman remains. I thought you would be bubbling over with news. You were wrong to worry about that long-ago mishap. Margaret Ponsby-Smythe was overjoyed to see you. It is a pity her mother is ill, but then Venetia Ponsby-Smythe always hated travelling.’

  ‘I understand Mrs Ponsby-Smythe is leaving for France.’

  ‘Curious, that.’ Miss Daphne tapped a finger against her mouth. ‘I wonder if Nella knows the reason.’

  ‘I doubt it.’

  Louisa thought about the packed valise in her room.

  ‘Would you mind very much if we returned to Italy soon?’

  ‘Does it have to do Mrs Ponsby-Smythe’s arrival?’

  ‘There are other considerations.’

  Miss Daphne’s gaze sharpened. ‘If you blame my nephew’s infatuation with Miss Blandish, I shall not believe you, Louisa. You encouraged it. You only have yourself to blame.’

  ‘It has to do with keeping my heart guarded as Miss Mattie admonished on her deathbed.’ Louisa regarded her hands. It was impossible to explain about her earlier fight with Jonathon and how he’d accused her of using him as a shield against her problems rather than really seeing him.

  ‘My sister had no idea what she was asking. Never risking your heart makes for an unhappy, unfulfilled life. If you need proof of that, look at Mattie’s life.’

  ‘She was well respected. Content.’

  Miss Daphne waved an impatient hand. ‘You are attempting to distract me, Louisa.’

  ‘I am seeking to reassure you.’ Louisa rearranged the items on the dressing table, making sure the bottles of scent and the hairbrush were precisely placed.

  ‘And what if someone needs you here?’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘I need you here, Louisa. It is vital. You must remain with me at Chesterholm. You promised.’ Miss Daphne’s bottom lip trembled and she looked little older than Nella Blandish. ‘There are still things I need to do, things Mattie would have approved of.’

  ‘But the plan has nothing to do with me.’

  ‘Are you frightened by that awful Ponsby-Smythe woman?’

  ‘How do you know Mrs Ponsby-Smythe is awful? Many in the ton fawn on her. She always has vouchers to Almack’s. She is a friend of the Duchess of Kent, the new queen’s mother. Or at least it is what I always understood.’ Louisa’s voice trailed off at Miss Daphne’s amused expression.

  ‘Venetia Ponsby-Smythe is considered to be a social climber par excellence. I remember when she made her début.’

  ‘But …’

  ‘If you listen to the servants, you can find out things. Half of the servants are already up in arms. Her imminent departure is being greeted as a miracle and a salvation. It is rumoured that she is going to a private clinic in Switzerland for her nerves.’

  ‘You listen to servants’ gossip?’ Louisa stared at Miss Daphne.

  Miss Daphne laughed. ‘I listen to Nella. She listens. It is a terribly useful arrangement.’

  ‘It makes no difference to me.’ A steady ache grew behind Louisa’s eyes. Before, when she’d been with Jonathon, she’d wanted nothing more than to see Venetia, but now she was not sure. She had lost so much the last time she encountered Venetia. And she knew how much she stood to lose this time. ‘I have been too long from Sorrento. It is time for me to return. We should depart sooner rather than later.’

  ‘You are running away, Louisa. You proclaim your independence, but you wear shackles. You are just like Mattie.’ Miss Daphne shook her head. ‘I wonder that I failed to see it before.’

  ‘I am not running.’

  ‘Then fight your demons and win. Why are you giving her the satisfaction of departing from the field before the fight begins?’

  ‘It is my life to live how I please.’

  Louisa put her hand to her throat. Miss Daphne knew that she cared. Did Jonathon? She hoped he had not guessed. But Miss Daphne was right. She needed to stand and fight. After all these years, it was her life to do with as she pleased. Mrs Ponsby-Smythe could not harm her without harming Jonathon or Arthur, or indeed Margaret’s prospects.

  ‘You want to take the coward’s way out. Just as Mattie took the coward’s way out all those years ago with Arthur Fanshaw. You are in love with Lord Chesterholm. Anyone who is not blind in both eyes can see that. And love frightens you.’

  ‘You are being foolishly sentimental.’ Louisa balanced the tincture bottle in her hand. ‘I suspect you have been taking a sip or two of this. It does you no good.’

  ‘And now you are going to try to start a fight by calling me an old fool or worse? Have you been fighting so long, Louisa, that you have forgotten who is on your side? I am. Always.’ She reached out her gnarled hand. ‘Always.’

  Louisa tucked the white lace shawl more firmly about Miss Daphne’s shoulders. ‘I would never dream of fighting with you. I respect you too much. But England holds nothing for me.’

  ‘By the time you reach my age, Louisa, you cease being amazed at people. I can see it in your eyes. Something happened between you and Lord Chesterholm when you were stuck in the storm.’ Miss Daphne held up her hand, stopping Louisa’s words. ‘I have no wish to hear what it was, but it has unsettled you. You will not be able to truly put your past behind until you solve your differences with Lord Chesterholm. You are in danger of becoming exactly like Mattie. So afraid of being hurt that you are frightened to live.’

  ‘Miss Mattie was the most alive person I knew.’ Louisa gazed at the mirror. ‘She took delight in telling the world around her. She was interested in so many things—cameos and Roman pottery. She carried on a vast correspondence.’

  ‘Mattie was a disappointed old woman who let her pride stand in the way of her happiness.’ Miss Daphne picked up one of the cameos.

  ‘Y
ou are wrong about Miss Mattie and wrong about me.’ Louisa crossed her arms.

  ‘You have no idea what she threw away.’ Miss Daphne gave a heart-wrenching sigh. ‘Do not let history repeat itself, Louisa. One is seldom offered a second chance, but you have been. Take it and embrace it.’

  Louisa started to explain that this was different, but at Miss Daphne’s intent look she closed her mouth. ‘I will consider your advice, Miss Daphne.’

  ‘It is all I ask.’ Miss Daphne extended her hand. ‘Shall we go down to dinner? I declare listening to Nella Blandish and her stories makes me hungry. Oh, to be that young again and have my whole life in front of me.’

  ‘Mrs Ponsby-Smythe. We meet again.’ Louisa said, releasing her hold on Miss Daphne’s arm as Mrs Ponsby-Smythe stood in front of them, blocking their progress. It was almost as if the woman had been waiting for her.

  For years Venetia Ponsby-Smythe had haunted her dreams, but she was much smaller than Louisa had remembered. In person, she was less fearsome—her hair was askew and her breath smelt like alcohol smothered in peppermints. Louisa concentrated on the carpet pattern. This woman no longer had any power over her. She was a woman of substance, but there was also a very small part of her who remained the naïve governess.

  ‘I expect you are feeling proud.’ Mrs Ponsby-Smythe’s lip curled. ‘The cast-off disgrace has returned in triumph. Are you going to gloat?’

  ‘Everyone will be gathering for dinner.’ Louisa kept her voice steady. Surely Venetia Ponsby-Smythe did not want a public scene. Louisa would not shrink from one, but this was far from the place.

  ‘Mrs Ponsby-Smythe. How delightful to see you again,’ Miss Daphne said, coming to stand beside Louisa. ‘I believe we last met at Eton—’

  ‘You broke your promise to me. Your solemn oath.’ Mrs Ponsby-Smythe jabbed her finger at Louisa, interrupting Miss Daphne. ‘Explain yourself, Louisa Sibson. You were never to return to England, never to have anything to do with my family. I have sweated blood for you.’

  The woman was clearly unhinged, obsessed. Louisa briefly wondered if she had always been that way.

  ‘Do you wish to have a public confrontation, Mrs Ponsby-Smythe? This time there are witnesses.’ Louisa was surprised at how calm and collected her voice sounded. ‘I would think washing your laundry for all to see is something you would be advised to avoid if you wish to keep your reputation.’

  ‘Are you threatening me?’ Mrs Ponsby-Smythe drew back in amazement. ‘Who are you to threaten me? Nobody will believe you. All you are is soiled Haymarketware.’

  Louisa briefly glanced at Miss Daphne, who nodded back.

  ‘No, I am stating the truth. I welcome the chance to speak with you. I have nothing to fear from the truth. Can you say the same? Miss Daphne Elliot’s connections are impeccable.’

  ‘And I will not hesitate to use them,’ Miss Daphne whispered in an undertone. ‘Have no fear, Louisa.’

  ‘I am giving you the opportunity to retain your dignity, Mrs Ponsby-Smythe,’ Louisa said, repeating the same words Mrs Ponsby-Smythe had used all those years ago when Louisa had begged for help in contacting Jonathon.

  The woman blinked and took a step backwards. Clearly she was expecting Louisa to cower and beg forgiveness, just as she had done all those years ago when she had come looking for Jonathon with a baby in her womb. Mrs Ponsby-Smythe had another think coming. Louisa’s days of being afraid were long over. What the woman thought of her and what she might have been able to do to her once upon a time had vanished. She had no power. She held no mystic key to make others think badly of Louisa. Louisa’s shoulders felt lighter as she kept her gaze steady and Venetia Ponsby-Smythe turned away.

  ‘That is up to you, Miss Sibson,’ she said in a cold voice. ‘But I suspect you seek an audience.’

  Louisa squeezed Miss Daphne’s hand, whispering that she would meet her in the drawing room. The elderly lady squeezed her hand back. Louisa waited until the sound of her footsteps faded.

  ‘You have changed, Miss Sibson.’ Mrs Ponsby-Smythe said. ‘I would have thought you would need an ally. You were always looking for someone else to fight your battles. A white knight.’

  ‘Mrs Ponsby-Smythe,’ Louisa began, gripping the banister for support as the enormity of what she was about to do swept over her. Whatever happened, she refused to show this woman how terrified she was of getting it wrong, of breaking down and crying.

  ‘You think you are very smart, Louisa, returning this way. Seeking to recapture my stepson’s heart and step into Clarissa’s shoes. If she remained alive … he loved her, you know.’

  Louisa kept her shoulders down and her head up. The well-aimed barb stung far less than she thought it would. Louisa released the banister and stood with her hands lightly clasped in front of her. She could do this. She was sure of it now.

  ‘You lied to me. You lied to your stepson and to your daughter. You have lived a lie. If you had not lied, Jonathon would have been free to make his own choice.’

  Mrs Ponsby-Smythe raised a handkerchief to her eyes. ‘You have no idea of the crosses I have to bear. The trouble and pain they have caused me.’

  ‘What crosses? When have you ever missed a tea, walked with paper in your shoes, or had to sleep under a bridge? Have you ever lost a baby whilst burning up with fever? Until you have had this happen, do not speak to me of crosses and deprivation. I was naïve, Mrs Ponsby-Smythe, but you were wicked.’

  ‘How dare you speak to one of your betters like that! How dare you accuse me of wickedness! I did what I had to do for my family!’

  ‘My better?’ Louisa allowed her gaze to travel down the length of Mrs Ponsby-Smythe. Once she had considered Mrs Ponsby-Smythe the height of sophistication and taste, but no longer. She was simply a disappointed, ruthlessly ambitious woman. And pity for her flooded through Louisa. ‘You are not fit to wipe the floor after me.’

  ‘You are getting beyond your station, my dear,’ Mrs Ponsby-Smythe said in a loud whisper. ‘I warned you of what could happen if you became involved with my stepson, but you chose to disregard my heartfelt warnings. You have no one to blame but yourself.’

  Louisa tapped her slipper on the ground. Heartfelt warnings indeed! The woman had no conception. The only heartfelt thing she believed in was her own social advancement. ‘Your machinations will not work this time, Mrs Ponsby-Smythe. My one regret is that I respected you once upon a time. Remove yourself from my path. I have a dinner to attend.’

  ‘As a servant to that old biddy?’ Mrs Ponsby-Smythe’s lip curled back and she stood squarely in the middle of the stairs. ‘That woman wants her head examined for employing a woman with as loose morals as you.’

  ‘As an equal.’ Louisa lifted her chin and took a step towards the woman. ‘I would watch what you say about Miss Elliot. Miss Elliot has friends and family who love her.’

  ‘You? An equal? I would rather die!’

  ‘That is your choice. For my part, what happened is in the past and has no part of my future.’ Louisa reached the woman and stood toe to toe with her. Mrs Ponsby-Smythe looked away. ‘Stand aside, Mrs Ponsby-Smythe. I have a dinner to attend.’

  Mrs Ponsby-Smythe moved out of Louisa’s way, allowing her to pass.

  ‘You will regret this, Louisa,’ she said in a biting undertone. ‘He will never love you. You can never take Clarissa’s place. She is the mother of his son. His heart will never be yours.’

  Despite everything, the barb stung. Louisa stopped. Slowly she regained control. She glanced back over her shoulder and saw a wild-haired old woman who had lost everything.

  ‘You are deluding yourself, if you think I care about your opinion on the matter.’ Louisa turned away from Mrs Ponsby-Smythe and walked down the remaining stairs.

  Her whole life in front of her. Louisa stared at the closed study door later that evening as Miss Daphne’s words echoed in her brain. After her confrontation with Mrs Ponsby-Smythe she had made it through supper and Miss Blandish’s recital. Neither Mrs P
onsby-Smythe nor Jonathon had put in an appearance. There was no chance of encountering him in the garden either as rain fell steadily. It was as if he was avoiding her. There had to be a way of making him understand that she was ready to begin living her life properly. The past no longer shackled her.

  Louisa took a deep breath, straightened the skirts of her green off-the-shoulder dress and forced her hand to grip the door handle and turn it.

  She had been given a second chance and she had hung on to the bitterness. She was not behaving like Annie Sims, seeking to romanticise the past, but was looking towards the future where there were no shadows. The man she was interested in was Jonathon Fanshaw, Lord Chesterholm, rather than the young and dashing Jonathon Ponsby-Smythe.

  Her encounter with Mrs Ponsby-Smythe had shown her that she had allowed the past to have power over her, rather than taking charge of her life. From here on in she would live her life the way she wanted to. She was finished with hiding in the shadows and worrying what others thought of her. It was her life to live how she wanted and she wanted Jonathon.

  Jonathon was in deep discussion with Roberts and his valet. The instant she entered the room, the conversation ceased.

  ‘Am I interrupting something?’ Louisa asked.

  ‘Not at all,’ Jonathon replied, dismissing the men. ‘Stay, Louisa. There is nothing more that can be done tonight but in the morning, I want the search to begin again. This time, I want him found.’

  ‘Very good, my lord.’ The men bowed and left.

  ‘Search? Has someone gone missing?’ Louisa asked.

  ‘Nothing for you to worry about. Everything is under control. This little adventure has nothing to do with the house party. There was a report that Annie’s former lover had been spotted in the neighbourhood, but it proved false. As a precaution, though, I have had the snuffboxes and other valuables locked up in the new safe,’ Jonathon said. He walked over to the fire and gave the coals a poke, sending bright sparks arching in the air. ‘Is it thundering again? What disturbs your sleep this time?’

  ‘You,’ Louisa said, advancing forwards. Warm pulses coursed through her body with each breath she took. ‘You disturb me.’