The Governess (Sisters of Woodside Mysteries Book 1)

by Mary Kingswood

  He was listening so intently that he had insensibly leaned nearer to her, so that his face was a bare few inches from her own. She could feel his breath on her face, still sweet and heavy with his morning chocolate. His eyes were fixed on hers, and she saw longing there, she was sure of it. Yet still he hesitated.

  She could wait no longer. There was nothing else for it, for if there were to be any kissing done, she was going to have to start things off herself.

  Slowly, oh so slowly, she moved nearer to him. His lips were parted, and, just at the moment when she feared he might move apart, he closed his eyes, waiting. With the softest touch imaginable, like two waterlilies drifting into each other, her lips brushed his. He gave a little whimper, although whether of pleasure or distress she could not tell. She pressed against him a little more, and he yielded to her touch, but still his restraint held him back.

  She moved a little apart, gazing into his eyes. His breath was ragged, but he made no move to place himself closer or further away. He simply sat, holding tight to her hand, and waited. Cautiously she lifted her free hand to cup his cheek. Now, if at all, was the moment when he would draw back. But he did not. With a little groan, he closed his eyes and turned his head to kiss the palm of her hand. “Annabelle, Annabelle…” he murmured. He stopped, opened his eyes again and looked at her, breathing heavily, his head resting in her hand.

  And then, to her great joy, his free hand crept around her back, warm and solid and comforting. At last! She smiled at his dear face, and, very slowly, his own answering smile spread across it. Pulling her nearer, he closed his eyes and rubbed his nose against hers, and then kissed it, oh so softly. Then her forehead, her cheeks and, tantalisingly, all round her mouth. And finally, when she felt she would explode if he did not kiss her properly, this minute, at once, he pressed his lips onto hers. Without hesitation, she melted into him with all the ardour that had built up inside her over many weeks and months, all the fervency of her nature that had waited patiently for the chance to express itself.

  And he kissed her back just as passionately, and the world was nothing but warmth and need and love and passion.

  Some unknown time later, when she gradually became aware of herself and Allan as two separate beings again, instead of a single vine twined together, and could feel the breeze gentle on her cheek and hear cattle lowing distantly, she smiled happily up into his face and he gazed down at her with unmistakable delight. She was half lying on his knees, although she had no memory of getting there, but it was quite delicious to be held so, with his arm sturdy around her back, and one hand resting warmly on her leg, his lips still close to hers.

  “Sweet, darling Annabelle,” he whispered between kisses. “My beloved, my only love, my sweetheart, my dear. I love you, I adore you, I worship you. My sweetest, loveliest Annabelle…”

  He continued for some time in this vein, kissing her and murmuring of love, and she was not in the least minded to interrupt him. It was so pleasant, in fact, that she sighed for the sheer joy of it.

  At once he shifted. “Are you chilled, my love? Or uncomfortable?”

  “No, how could I be, with you to hold me and keep me warm?” He chuckled, a low rumble that rocked her gently. “Very effective, that mistletoe, so never again tell me how inarticulate you are.”

  That brought another laugh. “I have been very foolish, my darling. I was so afraid…”

  “There is nothing to be afraid of,” she whispered, stroking his cheek softly. “We are together now. We will always be together. We will always love each other.”

  Abruptly he froze, and she wondered with a spear of terror if she had said the wrong thing, and broken the mood.

  “Do you mean it?” he said huskily. “Can you possibly… love me? I am so… boring.”

  “You are not boring,” she said fiercely. “Reliable, perhaps. Dependable. Constant. Loyal. Trustworthy. Reassuring. Faithful. Honest. Punctilious. Kind. Generous. Steady. Safe.”

  “Hmmm.” He was silent for a while, then he said, “Sounds pretty boring to me.”

  “I feel,” she said slowly, “as if I have come home to safe harbour after a long and turbulent sea journey.”

  “Ah,” he said. “And I feel as if I have found a friend. A friend of the heart.”

  And she was satisfied with that.

  ~~~~~

  Annabelle spent a morning walking round the house with Mrs Hale and the dowager, to determine if she wanted any changes made. Allan trailed along behind them, but his only contribution to the discussion was to say periodically, “You must do whatever you wish, Miss Winterton. Anything you want, you may have.” Each time, the dowager would roll her eyes and make tutting noises.

  There were few changes that she wanted to make. The dining room could be freshened with new wallpaper, she decided, and perhaps the music room, too, but little else needed attention.

  “I do not wish to redecorate the Italian room, but I might rearrange the furniture a little,” she said.

  “The Italian room?” the dowager said, looking down her nose at Annabelle. “What is wrong with it, pray?”

  “Why, nothing at all. It is a very stylish room. However, it is not very comfortable at present for receiving callers. It needs some more soft chairs and so forth.”

  “Receiving callers? What nonsense! The Italian room is only used when we have large formal functions.”

  “Indeed, but I intend to use it to receive my own callers.”

  The dowager stared at her. “But why? You will receive in the morning room, naturally, as Eloise did, and as I do still.”

  “The morning room is your room, Lady Brackenwood. I shall have my own room.”

  “Allan, tell her that the Countess of Brackenwood always receives in the morning room.”

  Annabelle did not wait for Allan to respond to this appeal. “On the contrary, previous countesses received in the Italian room, and I intend to revive that tradition,” she said crisply. “You will be welcome to join me there, or you may continue to use the morning room. I shall not object to that, you may be sure, for this is still your home. But if you do not like my dispositions, the Dower House is empty.”

  And that silenced her very effectively. Allan tried, not entirely satisfactorily, to hide his laugh, and when the dowager moved out of earshot, he whispered, “You see? I told you I would marry the woman who could stand up to Mother.”

  The only room Annabelle wished to transform utterly was the bedroom which would be hers. She had never seen inside it before that day, but she wanted nothing left to remind Allan of his dead wife, or of her sister, who had so recently slept there.

  “Are you sure you do not prefer a different room altogether?” he asked her quietly, as Mrs Hale and the dowager exclaimed over the gowns still hanging in the wardrobe. “I do not wish you to be made uncomfortable.”

  “With new furniture, wallpaper and hangings, it will be perfect,” she said. “Besides, what other room has so convenient a connecting door?”

  He smiled, a smile of pure joy and anticipation that she could read perfectly well. “Then let it be so,” he whispered, as his arm reached around her waist and pulled her close.

  ~~~~~

  A few days later, Allan had just finished his session with Mr Cross, and was settling down with relief in the library, when Plessey came in. Plessey had been employed at Charlsby for several years, and Allan would have thought him quite imperturbable. Now, however, he was unusually discomposed.

  “My lord…” he began. “My lord…”

  “Whatever is it, Plessey?”

  With shaking hands, the butler proffered a silver salver bearing a small card. Allan took the card, read it and laughed. The reason for Plessey’s unsettled state was now clear.

  “Show him in, Plessey.”

  A minute later, the butler returned and intoned with the utmost reverence, “His grace the most noble the Duke of Camberley.”

  The duke was not, as so often happened, a man grown to corpulence o
n the excesses of wealth. He was thin to the point of emaciation, and dressed in plain, sober black. He wanted only the Geneva bands at his throat to make him a clergyman, or lawyer, perhaps. Unlike most of his rank, he eschewed the carriage with footmen and postilions and outriders, and travelled about on horseback with no more than a couple of grooms to protect his dignity.

  After the business of greetings and refreshments had been accomplished, and Plessey, bowing deeply, had withdrawn, the duke laughed. “Good Lord, Brackenwood, ain’t your butler ever seen a duke before?”

  “Probably not. We live very quiet here. Plessey has been living in hope of the Marquess of Carrbridge for some years, but a duke is beyond his wildest expectations. He will die a happy butler now. But do sit down and tell me what brings you all this way to the wilds of Cheshire.”

  “That nephew of yours… or cousin, whatever he is. George Skelton.”

  “Ah. The Lady Grace.”

  “You know all about it, then? I tell you straight, Brackenwood, I don’t like it above half, but she is my youngest and the very image of her mother, and such a taking little thing, my Gracie… well, I shall not refuse him out of hand, not if we can come to terms.”

  Allan raised an eyebrow. “Duke, George has no more than eight hundred a year of his own. Furthermore, although he is presently my heir, his expectations have taken a turn for the worse lately, since I shall shortly have another wife myself, and he will likely be cut out of the inheritance. He cannot possibly aspire to Lady Grace’s hand.”

  “Is that why you took him away from town, then?”

  “I had nothing to do with it. George saw that the young lady was beginning to show a partiality for him, and withdrew himself immediately from her society. He is no fortune hunter, Camberley.”

  “That is what I wished to hear. Never go to town myself — too rackety a place by half, these days — but my older daughters brought Gracie out and that is what they told me. The boy was obviously head over ears, and who can blame him for that? Not I! But he behaved just as he ought, they said, never put himself forward or gave them the least concern, and if he had had a title or a decent estate… But then he left town and ever since then, my lovely girl has been all in the dumps. Tries to hide it, of course, for she is a good girl and not one to mope, not in company. But I can see how pulled she is, and I want none of it. Lord, we have had enough of that with Ramsey, drooping about after that girl. Three years she kept him waiting before she said yes, and the best part of a year to get her to the altar, and I am not going through that with Gracie, and so I tell you. I cannot bear to see her in the dismals.”

  “I am very sorry for it, for she sounds a delightful young lady, but I do not quite see what may be done about it. George has an allowance from me at present, but I can hardly afford to set him up in the sort of style that would allow him to raise his eyes so high.”

  “No, and one would not wish to be endlessly funding a man. Gracie is used to the very best, and will be expensive to keep in comfort. Does your nephew… cousin, I mean, have any other expectations?”

  “None that I know of. He has always wished to take up a career, but so long as I was deficient in sons, I could not countenance the scheme. Would you like to meet him? He will be back from his morning ride by now.”

  The duke assented, and Plessey was summoned, all agog, and told to fetch Mr Skelton to the library. Allan could almost see the wheels spinning in the butler’s brain as he tried to work out why the Duke of Camberley should have arrived unannounced and, furthermore, why Mr George Skelton should be sent for. It would not be long before they worked it out, for George’s valet might have some suspicion, but it amused Allan to see Plessey stumped for once.

  George crept in, plainly terrified, but he made his bow and said all that was proper. But then he burst out, “The Lady Grace? She is well? There is no… bad news?”

  “No, she is not well, not at all well, thanks to you, young man,” the duke said firmly.

  George went ashen, and Allan could see that he had not observed the twinkle in the duke’s eye.

  “Lady Grace is suffering much as you are, George,” Allan said. “The duke wishes her to be happy, and so he comes here to talk to you, and see if matters may be arranged to the satisfaction of all parties.”

  “Happy… arranged… satisfaction…” George repeated, eyes wide.

  “Do sit down, boy, before you fall down,” the duke said genially. “True enough, Gracie is moped to death on your account, and I hate to see the child unhappy, so if we can come to some agreement, you can have her, with my blessing. But you will have to take good care of her, mind! I shall not see her made miserable, you may depend upon it.”

  It was fortunate that George was standing right beside a chair, for his legs seemed to give way at this point and he plumped down like a deflated balloon, his mouth round with astonishment.

  “Now then, Skelton,” the duke said. “It appears you are unlikely to be an earl after all, so what else can you do, eh? And do not say the church, for I’ll not have a prosy clergyman in the family, that much I tell you.”

  “I… I…” George squeaked, before regaining some control over his voice. “The army, perhaps?”

  “No, that will never do,” the duke said briskly. “Why, you might have to fight. You might even be injured or killed, and Gracie would not like that.”

  “Oh. A government post, perhaps?” George hazarded.

  “Ah, now that is more the thing. Gracie would like to live in London. I have a few houses she might choose from, and you will come to Marshfields for the summer, naturally. I tell you what, Skelton, how would you like to go into Parliament? I have two or three seats that might suit you. What do you say, eh?”

  “Oh… I should like that very much. Thank you, your grace… thank you…” He swallowed. “When may I see her? Please?”

  “She is staying with friends not ten miles from here, waiting for me to bring you to her. Get your horse saddled and I shall take you straight there.”

  George made a strangled sound in his throat, and rushed out of the room.

  “Ah, young love,” the duke said complacently. “I remember it well. This is the most awkward stage, naturally, but once that is got over, it only gets better. With every year, it gets better.”

  25: The Streets Of Chester (September)

  SEPTEMBER

  September brought incessant rain, but Annabelle could not be downhearted, for it also brought the first truly welcome visitors she had received at Charlsby in the persons of her sister Rosamund and her husband Mr Robin Dalton. For the first time, Annabelle stood beside Allan on the steps to greet the arrivals, and the smiles on both sides, mingled with just a few tears, were the greatest delight to her.

  Their meeting was, as is so often the case with dear friends, a protracted affair, for they all stood for some time in the entrance hall, Rosamund chattering to Annabelle and the two men just as easy together. The carriage had gone to the stables, the luggage was unloaded and carried away up the stairs long before the party finally began to move up the stairs themselves. Then there were three faces peering through the upper bannisters, and Allan’s daughters had to be called down to be introduced.

  But eventually, Annabelle detached Rosamund and showed her to the room that was to be hers. “Robin is just next door, but we have no other guests just now so we can give you the best rooms.”

  “But this is so delightful, Belle!” she cried, casting her bonnet onto the bed and flopping with a sigh of relief into a chair. “Everything is exactly as you described it, yet I could not quite see it in my mind’s eye. And Lord Brackenwood all that is amiable and kind. I am so glad to have met your earl at last, for I was a little concerned… But now that I have seen you both, I can see the affection between you and my mind is quite at ease. Letters are all very well, and you have written a great many, it is true, but it is not the same. I needed to see the two of you together, and observe the manner in which you look at each other, and those
little gestures that are so speaking. One cannot judge at all from written words. Words are a screen by which the heart may be concealed, but when we stand in the same room and I can look you in the eye, nothing may be hidden from your sister, dear. I see the little blush on your cheek when you speak his name, and the brightness in your eye when you gaze at him. I see the devoted way he looks at you and the delicate way he offers you his arm, and then touches your hand when he thinks himself unobserved. In short, I never saw two people more in love, and it delights me more than I can say after— But we need not speak of that.”

  “You refer, I suppose, to Mr Keeling,” Annabelle said coolly. “You need not give him another moment’s thought, for I have not, I assure you. He has behaved abominably, and I am quite ashamed that I ever thought so highly of him, or wasted so many tears on such a worthless man.”

  Rosamund tipped her head on one side. “You truly retain no warmer feelings for him at all?”

  “None,” Annabelle said, with a decisive shake of the head. “He has forfeited all right to my regard. Miss Lorrimer is welcome to him. They are to be married later this month, I hear, and I do not envy her one bit. I am well rid of him, for mine is by far the better bargain.”

  Rosamund laughed. “You are quite right, dear. Now, have you many entertainments planned for us, or is this to be a quiet visit? We must make the most of it, for we cannot stay above ten days, and I shall not be able to travel again for some time.”

  “A dinner and card party is the only social event we have planned, although we may receive invitations once your presence here is known. But most of all I should like your help with my wedding clothes, for I have not got very far as yet and there is no one else here whose judgement may be depended upon.”