A Governess for the Brooding Duke: A Historical Regency Romance Book

by Bridget Barton

  “Perhaps it was more the idea that she might suffer than the idea that Carwyn Thomas was not good enough?” Georgette said somewhat hopefully. In truth, she was finding that she wished to see the best in the Duke, not the worst.

  “Truthfully, I could not really say. I think there was so much that was fighting for control of him that he could not even have picked through it himself. He could see that his sister would be living so very far away from him, somewhere in the Welsh hills. And I think he quite imagined her living much as one of the servants in his own house, and he could not bear it. Whatever she told him to the contrary, he simply would not listen. I think it was then that he became firmly entrenched in his position, unable to move from it either left or right. He had decided that Carwyn Thomas was just not good enough for her. She was the sister of a Duke, as he had been for almost a year at that point, and he would not see her married away to a man with neither great wealth nor even a title.”

  “Poor Josephine, she must have been so terribly torn between the man she loved and the brother she loved,” Georgette said sadly.

  “That poor girl was forced to make a most terrible decision. The decision that should never have presented itself in the first place. If only her brother could have understood that her love for Carwyn Thomas was not merely the romantic fancy of a young woman. It was the very deepest love; I could see it myself. And I knew when he forbade her to see him anymore, that there was no way that Josephine could have abided by it. There would never have been another man on this earth that she would have loved as she loved Carwyn Thomas. They really were a match made in heaven, and no lack of title or wealth could ever have disrupted it. God knows I tried to get my nephew to see the sense of it, the truth of it, but he would not. And he was furious for my intervention, sending me away from Draycott Hall more than once.” Georgette could see that the retelling of that period in their lives clearly gave Lady Lyndon great pain.

  “And so, Josephine left?” Georgette said gently.

  “The poor girl had no option. Her brother was making it harder and harder for her to find ways of meeting Carwyn in secret. In the end, she wrote to Carwyn and begged that he take her away. And I know it broke her heart to have to elope and run to Wales to be married in a church full of strangers, without her beloved brother there to give her away.”

  “Oh My Lady, how very, very sad.”

  At that moment, the conversation was interrupted by the sound of the harp.

  Both women looked up in time to see Ffion, her face glowing pink, and her smile so broad and happy, reaching out with chubby hands to pluck the strings.

  “Oh,” Georgette said, making ready to rise.

  “No, Miss Darrington. Keep your seat; everything is well,” Lady Lyndon said with a laugh. “Ffion does love the harp so, and I never stop her.”

  “I see,” Georgette said, breathing a sigh of relief.

  “Unfortunately for us, Eleri rather likes to accompany her on the piano. Without any musical training at all, I rather fear that our conversation is likely to have come to an end.” Lady Lyndon laughed.

  Before Georgette had a chance to respond, her attention was greatly drawn by the awful noise of Eleri Thomas banging loudly on the keys of the piano.

  “Very good,” Lady Lyndon called above the din. “Absolutely lovely girls. Do keep playing.”

  As much as Georgette had wanted their conversation to continue, the very sight of Eleri and Ffion enjoying themselves so unguardedly and so greatly was compensation enough for her.

  Chapter 21

  “So, if we look at the beans here, how many do we have?” Georgette had managed to get some dried beans from the cook to assist her in the teaching of simple arithmetic. “What do you say, Ffion?”

  “One, two, three, four,” Ffion counted under her breath as she poked at each of the beans in turn with a chubby finger. “Four!” she said, triumphantly.

  “Wonderful, Ffion. Well done.” Georgette reached out and touched the top of the bright blonde head. “Now, Eleri, if I added these beans to the beans that we already have, how many beans do we have now?”

  In the same style as her sister, Eleri pointed at the beans in turn and continued to count.

  “Five, six, seven,” she said and looked up at Georgette for confirmation. “Is it seven, Miss Darrington?” she said, excitedly.

  “Yes, it is seven.” Georgette felt incredibly proud of the girls.

  “So, this is what we have learned. Three added to four equals seven.”

  Their contentment in learning was suddenly disrupted when there came a loud knock at the schoolroom door. It began to swing open almost immediately, and the housekeeper suddenly appeared. Clearly, Mrs Griffin had no intention of waiting to be told to enter.

  “What is it, Mrs Griffin?” Georgette said with some exasperation.

  “His Grace wants to see you,” she announced, and there was something in her air which made Georgette feel suddenly, horribly concerned.

  “At what time?” Georgette said, knowing in her heart that her question was futile.

  “Immediately, Miss Darrington. And I suggest you get there without delay. I daresay His Grace is furious enough without you dragging your heels.”

  “Could you lower your voice, Mrs Griffin?” Georgette said in a hiss. “Really, you need not behave in such a manner in front of the girls.” Georgette had risen and crossed the room so that the two women might talk a little more privately. “Now, if you would be so good, could you have one of the maids sent in to watch the girls whilst I am away?”

  “I could watch them myself,” Mrs Griffin said somewhat put out.

  “No, that won’t be necessary,” Georgette said, not wanting to make relations between herself and the housekeeper any worse, but also not wanting the children to have to suffer to spend time with such a dreadful personality. “I should not like to interrupt your work. I am sure you have a good deal to do without sitting with Eleri and Ffion.”

  “Yes, plenty,” she said angrily, and Georgette rather marveled at the way people seized upon any excuse for outrage. She hoped and prayed that she herself would never be so tedious and small-minded.

  Well, I’d better go and get a maid. You certainly do not want to keep His Grace waiting.” And, before the housekeeper left the room, Georgette saw a rather self-satisfied and ugly smile show itself most unashamedly on her face.

  Eleri and Ffion were completely silent as they sat and stared at Georgette. She could see that they were greatly concerned and, worse, entirely confused about what was happening.

  Georgette knew that the poor things had become terribly used to sensing bad atmospheres and yet, at such a tender age, they had no way of understanding the cause.

  “Now do not look so worried, girls,” Georgette said, hoping that she sounded natural, not wanting her cheerful tones to sound as forced as they truly were. “I just need to go and have a few minutes conversation with your uncle.”

  “Is it trouble?” Eleri said, astounding her with her perception.

  “I cannot imagine so, Eleri,” Georgette answered, not wanting to lie to the little girl outright. “It is probably something very simple.”

  “Or it might be because we are not supposed to speak Welsh,” Ffion said, and Georgette thought her heart would break.

  Up until that moment, she had not realized quite how much Eleri and Ffion understood, and she felt herself quite foolish not to have seen it before.

  “Please, Ffion, you are not to worry about that. We shall talk about it later between ourselves, alright? Just the three of us will talk about it, but you must not be afraid for me, for I shall be absolutely fine.”

  Georgette could not help herself. She gathered the little girls to her and hugged them tightly, hoping against all hope that her actions did not undermine her words. “You really are the most wonderful girls, Eleri and Ffion. I do not know how I would manage here were it not for you. There now, we are firm friends, are we not?”

  “Please do
not leave us, Miss Darrington,” Ffion whispered almost noiselessly into the side of Georgette’s neck.

  “Goodness me, Ffion, I will not leave you,” she said, wishing the Duke could have found some other way to speak to her without upsetting the girls so much.

  By the time she had reached the door of the Duke’s study, Georgette felt quite nauseous.

  She could not forget the look on Mrs Griffin’s face and felt sure that there had been some mischief set against her. But surely the Duke had come to know her a little now and would not take Mrs Griffin’s part in things.

  Horrified to note that her hand was shaking just a little, Georgette reached out and knocked the door.

  “Enter,” the Duke called, and she hurried in. Her heart sank when she saw Mrs Wells standing in front of the Duke’s desk. She turned to look at Georgette and gave her such a look of loathing that she quite shuddered in the face of it. Why was it that that woman found it so very easy to hate?

  “Miss Darrington, thank you for coming along so promptly,” he said, although his tone suggested that he was far from pleased to see her.

  “Your Grace,” she said in acknowledgment and feeling, rather than seeing, Mrs Wells looking at her.

  It was of some amusement to Georgette to note that the Duke had not asked the doughy nurse to take a seat and had rather left her standing in front of his desk. A small victory as that was, it was a victory nonetheless. But on that day, it was likely not a victory at all since she herself stood at the side of the woman, the both of them awkward in the face of the seated Duke.

  “Mrs Wells has brought a matter of some concern to me, Miss Darrington, and I thought it something best dealt with immediately,” he said a little shortly, his eyes fixing upon hers for a moment.

  Without hearing a word further, Georgette felt the weight of a great injustice. After all, when she had taken a matter of genuine concern to the Duke herself, a matter which affected the children greatly, he had not sent immediately for Mrs Wells. In truth, he had simply brushed the whole thing off, never once bringing Mrs Wells to heel. Now, based on nothing more than mischief, she had been dragged from the schoolroom and brought before him. Georgette rather thought that it would not be one of the days when she saw the best in the Duke and not the worst.

  “A matter of some concern, Your Grace?” Georgette said, her throat growing ever drier.

  “Yes, it appears that Mrs Wells has observed you continuing to converse in Welsh with the children,” he said and rather glared at her.

  Although Georgette had, indeed, continued to allow the girls to speak Welsh, she knew she had done it in such secrecy that the dreadful nurse would never, not for one moment, have overheard a thing. It was simply a lie based on an earlier truth. Mrs Wells was rather banking on the fact that the Duke would believe her tale since he himself had already found cause to speak to Georgette on the matter.

  “And when was this?” Georgette said, turning to look at Mrs Wells.

  She thought it rather telling that Mrs Wells chose to continue to stare at the Duke’s desk, rather than meet her eyes.

  “Mrs Wells?” the Duke said, firmly.

  “On a number of occasions,” she said, still staring at the desk. “It seems to me like every time I approach the schoolroom door to collect the children after their lessons, I hear Welsh words drifting out.”

  “Miss Darrington?” the Duke said, raising his eyebrows, clearly indicating that now was the time to defend herself.

  “No, after all, it would be rather a foolish thing to do, would it not, knowing that the children’s nurse might arrive at any moment to collect them?” she said, turning to stare at the side of Mrs Wells’ face. “So, I can tell you most conclusively that I have not heard the children speaking any Welsh words whilst waiting for their nurse to come and collect them from the schoolroom at half-past three in the afternoon.”

  Georgette was telling the absolute truth. She had not suggested that she never allowed the children to speak in Welsh, but she was keen to highlight Mrs Wells’ obvious lie.

  “You’d say any clever thing, wouldn’t you?” Mrs Wells sneered.

  “Mrs Wells!” the Duke said, irritably.

  “Your Grace, this woman completely ignores your instructions. It is as if you have not spoken at all, Your Grace,” Mrs Wells said in an attempt to ingratiate herself.

  “Miss Darrington, you are absolutely sure that there is no truth in Mrs Wells’ assertions?” he said, holding her gaze so steadily that Georgette knew she could not lie.

  “I know it is not true, Your Grace because I would not speak Welsh with the girls knowing that Mrs Wells was coming. I do allow the girls to speak Welsh on occasion, Your Grace, but it is most certainly not when any of the servants might hear.”

  “Miss Darrington,” he said, letting out a great breath of exasperation.

  “I knew she was lying, Your Grace,” Mrs Wells said with a great air of satisfaction.

  “I was not lying, Mrs Wells. I know that you did not hear me speaking Welsh at half-past three in the afternoon because I never do. And I have been open in my other activities, have I not?”

  “You should be ashamed,” the nurse said, and the Duke looked at her sharply.

  “No, there are people in this household that should be ashamed, Mrs Wells, but I am not one of them.” Anger suddenly overtook her, and Georgette knew that she would not suffer the injustice a moment longer. “You have lied this day simply to suit the dreadful passion for spite that you, Mrs Griffin, and Mr Pearson share. And you have done it with little regard for those children, for I have heard you bully them most cruelly. And do not think that I do not know that it was you who saw to it that the children were not fed simply to spite me. You, Mrs Wells, should be thoroughly ashamed of yourself. You are a grown woman, a nurse for goodness sake, and yet you bully and terrorize two tiny girls who have lost their own parents and everything they have ever known.”

  “Miss Darrington!” The Duke began to rise from behind his desk.

  “Your Grace, if you cannot see the truth of it, I do not know what else to say,” Georgette said, looking at him with blazing eyes. “And it breaks my heart to know that you would overlook the fact that a meal was withheld from your own flesh and blood, and yet you are quick to admonish me for something as simple as allowing two little girls to hold onto the last things they remember.” Tears were streaming down her face freely.

  “Miss Darrington, you really must try to calm down,” the Duke said, advancing upon her.

  “I cannot calm down, Your Grace,” she said angrily. “For I have witnessed bullying in this household, and I have witnessed such a dreadful determination to overlook it. Eleri and Ffion are not evil or low-born. They are two little girls who rather strike me as being almost entirely alone in this world. That is the shame of this house, Your Grace.” And with that, Georgette raised her hands to her face and covered her eyes.

  “Well, I never,” Mrs Wells said, her voice full of delicious scandal.

  “Leave us, Mrs Wells,” the Duke said firmly.

  “Certainly, Your Grace.” The woman’s voice was so full of self-satisfaction that Georgette raised her head and glared at her.

  Her lumpen and uneducated countenance showed most clearly that Mrs Wells knew she had won. She was going to leave the room whilst the Duke of Draycott dismissed the governess who had got above herself.

  “Now!” the Duke bellowed, and Mrs Wells’ eyes opened as wide and as round as saucers.

  “Yes, Your Grace,” she said, turning to scurry from the room.

  In truth, Georgette rather wished that he had dismissed her from the room instead. She was so angry and upset and so afraid for the children that she could not control her emotions and she knew it. As she continued to stand in front of him, she bowed her head once more, desperately searching in the sleeve of her gown for a handkerchief.

  “Here, take this,” the Duke said and pressed his own clean white handkerchief into her hand.

&nb
sp; “Thank you,” she mumbled and hurriedly blotted at her tearstained face.

  For several moments, neither one of them spoke. Georgette very much knew that she had said everything she could possibly say and more, and she knew that she ought not to say anything else.

  However, it rather seemed that the Duke had been overcome with awkwardness again, and the confident firmness with which he had spoken to her upon her arrival seemed to have disappeared.