On the desk there was a large book and in front of her was a woman who was obviously asking for a job.
As she stood wondering if she should sit down, the woman turned away and started to walk towards the door.
Obviously she was now leaving and Eleta decided to speak to Mrs. Hill before anyone else did, so, walking slowly as if in no hurry, she approached the desk.
Mrs. Hill was making a note in the book and so did not look up until Eleta reached her and then she asked in a somewhat affected voice,
“Who are you?”
“My name is Ellen Lawson and – I am hoping, Mrs. Hill, that you could – find me a place as a Governess.”
“As a Governess!” Mrs. Hill exclaimed. “You look too young to be teaching children and that’s a fact.”
“I am older than I look,” Eleta answered. “And I do speak a number of languages fluently including French, German, Spanish and Greek.”
Mrs. Hill regarded at her as if she thought that she was joking and then she laughed.
“There are not many children in Mayfair who want to learn all that,” she said.
“Perhaps I could be a secretary in an Embassy.”
Eleta had only just thought of that idea and then she wondered why she had not done so before.
“Embassies usually take on people from their own countries,” Mrs. Hill said, “and they seldom come asking me for staff.”
There was a note in her voice that told Eleta it was a sore point, so she therefore persevered quietly,
“I would be very glad of a position. As I have said, preferably with children or as a secretary to anyone who has to deal with foreign countries.”
“If you mean businessmen, you will find them hard task-masters and mean on the cash. In fact to be honest I don’t encourage them to come here looking for staff.”
Eleta was silent. She felt that Mrs. Hill was being hostile and she would then have to think of another way of escaping from her stepfather.
Then unexpectedly a woman she had not noticed put her head in sight. She obviously had been listening to the conversation and was working behind another desk.
“What about the Marquis?” she asked almost in a whisper.
“I had not thought of him,” Mrs. Hill replied. “In fact I had forgotten he was back on our books again.”
”For the umpteenth time,” the other woman joked, “and you can be certain it’ll not be the last!”
Eleta was listening intently and, as Mrs. Hill was hesitating, she said,
“I am very experienced and I should have given you these the moment I arrived.”
She handed over the two references she had written herself and Mrs. Hill took them from her and read them.
Then she said,
“I do remember the Countess. It wasn’t very often they changed their staff. A very kind Lady she was, which is more than I can say for some of them as live in Berkeley Square.”
“I was very happy with her until she died.”
“I can well believe that. You can take my word for it, it’s the best that go first and we’re left with the worst!”
Mrs. Hill read the second letter again.
“Why have you left this Lady?” she asked.
“She has gone back to France and since I have been in France for some years I want to be in England now.”
“I can understand that,” Mrs. Hill replied. “When it comes down to it, there’s nowhere like home.”
“That is why I am hoping you will be able to find me somewhere here,” Eleta added.
Mrs. Hill’s assistant piped up.
“It’s no use, she will have to go to the Marquis and we can only hope she’ll stay longer than the last two did.”
“Who is this Marquis,” Eleta asked, “and why does he change his staff so frequently?”
“You may have heard of him. He’s the Marquis of Teringford and it’s his child who gives us more trouble than anyone else.”
“His child?” Eleta questioned.
“There’s not one woman in a million who can stand her goings-on,” the assistant said. “And they comes back here saying if they was paid all the money in China they wouldn’t stay another day with her.”
“Now don’t put Miss Lawson off before she’s even begun,” Mrs. Hill came back sharply. “We’ve no one else to send, Gertie, so stop making it even more difficult.”
As if rebuked, Gertie disappeared behind the desk.
“We’ve been looking after the Marquis’s staff for some years,” Mrs. Hill said. “There’s nothing wrong with the Marquis, it’s his daughter who’s the trouble.
“Is she a child?” Eleta asked.
“She’s a child all right, just nine years of age and, if you ask me, she’s a real horror. At the same time she’s the Marquis’s daughter and we have to find her a Governess, although Heaven knows where we can find another one.”
“I told you, if you remember,” Eleta said quietly, “I want to be a Governess, but you said I was too young.”
“Well, you certainly look too young to me,” Mrs. Hill replied, as if to justify herself. “But the post’s open at the moment if you would like to try your hand at it. I must be honest, seeing as you’ve got such good references.”
“What is wrong?” Eleta enquired.
“You would think a child of nine would be easy to handle, but she’s set herself against any form of learning and Governess after Governess has failed to make her even learn the alphabet, let alone anything else.”
Eleta could hardly believe that this was true.
“What is wrong with the child?”
“There’s nothing wrong at all as far as her health’s concerned. The Marquis is a charming man, but he can no more control his daughter than turn back the tide.”
“It sounds very strange to me,” Eleta said. “But I am prepared to try my hand at teaching the child and – who knows – I might succeed where the others have failed.”
“I’ll give you a medal for valour if you do,” Mrs. Hill answered. “Isn’t that true, Gertie?”
The assistant put her head round the desk again.
“I wouldn’t bet on anyone succeeding where that child’s concerned, but let Miss Lawson have a go. There’s no one else on our books at present as you well know.”
Mrs. Hill hesitated for a moment.
“Well, you’ll be doing us a big favour as well as yourself. If you succeed, all I can say is that I’ll bless you from the top of your head to the soles of your feet!”
Eleta laughed.
“That does sound very encouraging and I can only promise that you I will do my best. But do tell me a little more about the Marquis and his daughter.”
“He’s a very nice gentleman and I’m sorrier for him than I am for anyone else. His wife died having this child and I’ve heard, although it may not be true, that he’s sworn he’ll never marry again.
“There’s plenty ready to wear the Teringford jewels if only he’d ask them. It’s a real shame that young man who’s lost his wife should have a child like his.”
“Where does he live?” Eleta asked, hoping it was not in London.
“He’s got a house in Hertfordshire which I’m told is one of the finest and most impressive houses in England. He also has a big mansion in Park Lane and, when he gives parties, I read about them in The Court Circular and the smart people of London are his guests.”
“So his daughter is in the country?” Eleta asked.
She wanted to make sure that she would not have to be in London, as Park Lane was too near to her own home.
“Yes, the child is in the country and you’d think she’d be happy there with her father’s horses. It’s only fair to tell you that we’ve sent no less than five Governesses who’ve all come back and said they’d rather starve than put up with that child for another moment.”
“Don’t put her off having a try,” Gertie cautioned.
“You are not putting me off,” Eleta came in. “I am perfectl
y willing to have a go and I only hope for your sake as well as mine that I will be successful.”
“It’ll be a miracle if you are,” Mrs. Hill said, “but don’t say I haven’t warned you.”
“If I crawl back, you must not laugh at me!”
“I certainly won’t do that. I’d give you a crown if I had one, but my grateful thanks will cost nothing. I only swear I’ll find you another job if you give up on this one.”
“Thank you very much,” Eleta sighed, “and I am very very grateful.”
“When can you go there?” Mrs. Hill asked her.
“What would suit me best is to leave late tonight. It may perhaps be rather inconvenient, but I am obliged, for reasons I don’t wish to discuss, to leave the place where I am staying at the moment.”
“That’ll be difficult,” Mrs. Hill said after thinking it over. “What you could do, if you could manage it, is to go early tomorrow morning. It’ll give me a chance to inform his Lordship’s secretary that he must provide you with a proper conveyance.”
Eleta had not thought of this, but she could see it was sensible.
“Very well,” she said, “I will be here at six o’clock tomorrow morning. And if I then have to wait for the conveyance, perhaps you would be kind enough to have someone let me in.”
“It seems to me,” Mrs. Hill remarked in a different tone of voice, “that you are escaping from somewhere.”
“You are very clever,” Eleta replied. “The people I am with now don’t wish to lose me, but I have to leave them for a number of reasons. I therefore want to get away without a scene, either late tonight or very early tomorrow morning, whichever you think the most convenient.”
“Well, I tell you what I’ll do. Neither of us want to get up as early as six o’clock. So if I give you a spare key to the door, you can sit there until the carriage arrives.”
“That is very kind,” Eleta said. I promise not to be a nuisance and I will lock the door when I leave and push the key through the letterbox.”
“That seems safe to me, but you haven’t asked me yet, Miss Lawson, what wages you’ll be wanting.”
“No, I forgot about that,” Eleta replied.
“You won’t get far in life if you don’t see that they pay you properly,” Mrs. Hill said in a rebuking tone. “At the same time you’ve struck lucky where that’s concerned as His Lordship’s very generous. He realises, as we do, it’s not an easy position and in my view it never will be.”
“That’s putting it mildly,” Gertie added. “If you asks me, I’d want a thousand pounds a day for that child!”
“Now you are putting Miss Lawson off, Gertie.”
Eleta laughed,
“Don’t worry, she is not putting me off. I do rather like difficult problems and surely this is a most difficult one. So I will enjoy trying to do what other people have failed to accomplish.”
“All I can say is you’re different from most folk,” Mrs. Hill replied somewhat tartly.
She handed Eleta a card with the name and address of where she had to go and then another card on which was written her monthly salary.
And that she was entitled to four weeks holiday during the year and one day off a week provided she could find someone in the household to look after Lady Priscilla.
That, she realised, was the Marquis of Teringford’s daughter and the wages were much larger than anything her mother had ever paid her Governess.
She knew therefore that, if he was willing to pay so much, the Marquis must be desperate in trying to find a Governess.
She put the two cards into her handbag and said,
“Thank you very much for all your kindness and I promise I will do my best for your sake as well as my own in trying to stay where the others have all left.”
She held out her hand and, as if it was somewhat unusual, Mrs. Hill seemed surprised as she took it.
“You will not forget to order the carriage and give me the key,” she said.
“Of course not. Here it is and you won’t forget to put it through the letterbox will you?”
“I will not forget,” Eleta promised. “I hope that the carriage will not be late for me.”
She knew as she spoke it was going to be difficult to get away, but it was a chance in a million.
Wherever her stepfather might look for her, she was certain it would not occur to him that she was a Governess.
Yet because he was so fond of titles he might, she suddenly thought, wonder if she had found a situation in any of their houses.
Just for a moment she was frightened and then she remembered that she had changed her name.
It was not likely that her stepfather would admit to the people he was impressed by that his stepdaughter had run away and was hiding from him.
‘I am sure I am safe. I must be,’ she told herself as she walked down the stairs.
She could see Betty not far away and ran towards her excitedly.
“I have won! I have won!” she cried. “I have been given a situation as a Governess and I can only pray, Betty, that I can keep it.”
“You’ve got a situation!” Betty exclaimed.
“Let’s sit down somewhere so that I can tell you all about it,” she suggested.
“We’ll go to the Park. No one’ll listen to us there.”
They walked quickly towards Hyde Park and found an empty seat under some trees.
“Now tell me exactly what’s happened, my Lady. I promise you, I’ve been prayin’ that you’d find somewhere decent to go.”
“It sounds a most difficult place from what Mrs. Hill said,” Eleta answered. “But I am engaged and they are picking me up very early tomorrow morning.”
“Who are you going to?” Betty asked. “I hope it’s somewhere respectable and you won’t get into trouble.”
“It’s not likely except from my pupil. Apparently she is responsible for a number of Governesses leaving.”
“Who is she and why should she do so?”
“She is the daughter of the Marquis of Teringford.”
For a moment Betty just stared at her and then she said,
“Oh, not him! You can’t go to him, my Lady, that be impossible!”
CHAPTER THREE
Eleta stared at Betty.
“What do you mean?” she asked her. “Why should I not go to the Marquis’s house?”
Betty was silent and Eleta knew she was struggling to find the right words and then she began,
“I’ve heard a great deal about that Marquis because a friend of mine worked there at one time. She tells me about him, which I thinks you should hear.”
“But of course I want to hear it. If I am to teach his daughter, the more I know about him the better. It’s so like you, Betty, to know about a man I have never heard of.”
“I’m real sure that your mother would have known about him and of course your father. But, as they didn’t approve of him, he were not invited to Berkeley Square.”
“They did not approve of him? But why?”
“Let’s start at the beginning. My friend tells me he were only nineteen when he married. He fell in love with a very pretty girl and, as he were to become a Marquis, her family was delighted they should be married.”
“Was she the same age as him?” Eleta asked.
“No, a bit younger, she was in fact only seventeen, getting on for eighteen, and all the newspapers, as you can imagine, made a good story of the bride and bridegroom being so young and aristocratic.”
“So the bride also came from a good family?”
“Her father was an Earl and she therefore had a courtesy title,” Betty replied, “as her bridegroom had.”
“So they were married,” Eleta said, feeling that the story was rather slow in coming out.
“They were then married and I hears they was very happy, but sadly the bride died having a baby.”
“Yes, I was told that at Mrs. Hill’s. It was dreadful. Was the Marquis broken-hearted?”
“I was
told he was at first, but afterwards, perhaps because he wanted to forget, he began to enjoy himself.”
“What do you mean by that, Betty?”
“Well, he pursued all the most beautiful women in London and the gossips talked about him day and night.”
“But he did not get married again?”
“No, he be very careful not to do that. My friend said he were so unhappy when his wife died that he vowed never to marry or get involved with an unmarried woman.”
Eleta stared at her.
“Are you saying, Betty, that the women he had ‘affairs’ with, if that’s what you mean, were all married?”
“All of them and it gives him a very bad name. It were whispered that one husband threatened to challenge him to a duel, but, as it were forbidden by Her Majesty, they ended up by having a fist-fight that most unfairly, it’s thought, the Marquis won.”
Eleta then laughed as it sounded so funny and Betty continued,
“It’s said in Mayfair among the grand hostesses that no one’s safe when that Marquis is prowlin’ about.”
Eleta laughed again.
“I suppose it’s what you might expect if he is as good-looking as you say he is and very rich too.”
“I am sure of that at any rate,” Betty said. “He has horses that win races and a big house in Hertfordshire.”
“That is where I have to go tomorrow.”
“Over my dead body! I’m not havin’ you run after by someone who’s whispered about by every respectable Lady in the country. You go straight back to Mrs. Hill and tell her to find somewhere else. You’re far too pretty, my Lady, to be under the same roof as that man!”
Betty was speaking very seriously and Eleta knew that she was worried because she loved her.
She put out her hand and laid it over Betty’s.
“Now listen to me, Betty. I love you for caring for me and being worried, as I know Mama would worry.”
“Your dear mother wouldn’t allow you to go to the home of a roué and a man who’s talked about as much as that Marquis is and that’s the truth.”
“If Mama was here,” Eleta replied, “she would not allow Step-papa to marry me to an old decrepit Duke who only wants me because I have money.
103. She Wanted Love Page 4
