The Governess of Highland Hall: A Novel

by Carrie Turansky

  Julia took a cup of cider and a piece of shortbread from the tray and found a seat next to Marie, one of the maids. They had just finished a rousing game of Forfeits, and she was glad for a break. Thankfully, she had not been asked to perform a song or tell an amusing story to regain the handkerchief she had placed on the table at the beginning of the game.

  When Nelson suggested they play, Julia thought about excusing herself and going upstairs, but Ann seemed eager to take part, so Julia stayed. She looked across the room and spotted Ann sitting with Lydia by the piano, a smile on her face. Julia’s spirits lifted. It was good to see Ann enjoying herself again.

  Nelson slung his arm around Betsy’s shoulder. “I think Betsy should sing another song for us.” Several of the servants clapped for the kitchen maid who had already entertained them with one song during the game.

  “I’ll play the piano, if you like,” Lydia added with a smile.

  Betsy grinned, her rosy cheeks glowing. “All right. I’ll sing, but only if you’ll all sing along.”

  Hearty agreement rose from the group, and soon Betsy was leading them in “Sweet Rosie O’Grady.” Then she taught them “By the Light of the Silvery Moon,” and finally they sang “Meet Me Tonight in Dream Land.”

  Heat flooded Julia’s cheeks as they sang the chorus. She was used to singing hymns and sacred songs, and it didn’t seem proper to sing about spooning and cuddling in the moonlight. She glanced around the group during the next verse, but they all joined in without hesitation, even Mr. Lawrence and Mrs. Emmitt.

  “Come on, let’s sing the chorus again,” Betsy called.

  “Meet me tonight in dreamland,

  under the silv’ry moon;

  Meet me tonight in dreamland,

  where love’s sweet roses bloom.

  Come with the love-light gleaming,

  in your dear eyes of blue.

  Meet me in dreamland,

  sweet dreamy dreamland,

  there let my dreams come true.”

  As Julia sang, a vision of William’s handsome face and deep blue eyes filled her mind. A warning echoed through her heart, and she tried to banish the image. It was foolish to let the words of the song sway her emotions. But when she sang the chorus a third time, her thoughts returned to William, and the longing in her heart grew stronger.

  If only he would think of her in such a tender and loving way, take her into his heart, and cherish her, how happy and grateful she would be. Her throat tightened, choking off her voice, and her eyes stung from unshed tears.

  She swallowed and glanced toward the door. Perhaps she should leave before someone asked her what was wrong. She could never admit she grieved for William and the love and life they could never share.

  But she didn’t want to spoil the party for Ann. She glanced across the room again. Ann leaned against the side of the piano as Lydia played. One of Clark’s young assistant gardeners stood beside her. Ann glanced at him with shining eyes, and they exchanged a smile and continued singing.

  Ann didn’t need her. No one needed her—especially not William. Not since Miss Drexel had arrived at Highland.

  Lowering her head, she stood and walked toward the door. Marie and Mrs. Emmitt glanced at her as she passed, but no one questioned her or urged her to stay.

  She stepped through the doorway and hurried down the passage toward the back staircase. Cool air flowed in from a partially open window by the back door leading to the courtyard. She pulled in a deep breath and straightened her shoulders.

  What would her parents say if she confided in them about her struggle? How would they counsel her? The heavy weight of conviction settled over her heart.

  Self-pity was not an admirable quality, and she should not indulge in it one moment longer. But changing her feelings was easier said than done.

  She headed up the stairs, her heart aching. She passed the ground floor, climbed to the first, then turned down the hallway toward her bedroom. As she approached her door, she heard footsteps and then a loud bump farther down the hall.

  She cocked her head and listened, and someone issued a muffled groan. She pulled in a sharp breath. Could it be William? Had he fallen? Her heart lurched, and she hurried down the hall.

  In the gallery at the top of the stairs, a man lay slumped on the floor, moaning. The light was so dim she couldn’t see him clearly.

  Julia’s mind raced as she hurried to his side. “Are you all right, sir?”

  The man slowly lifted his head, and recognition flashed through her.

  David’s eyes drooped to half-mast, and his mouth hung open in an odd smile. “Miss Foster?”

  “Yes sir. Are you ill? Shall I call someone to help you?”

  “No, I’ll be all right, if I can just get to my feet.” He pushed up to his knees, then stood and swayed.

  She gasped and reached to steady him. His stale breath washed over her, and she clamped her mouth closed against the awful smell. “Why don’t you sit down, sir? There’s a chair right here. I’ll ring for someone to help you to your room.”

  “No. I don’t want to trouble the servants. Just walk with me.” His slurred speech and foul breath made it clear he was not ill at all … but inebriated.

  Julia glanced down the hall, wishing someone else would appear to help them. Even if she did ring for a servant, they were all downstairs at the party and not likely to hear the summons.

  He took hold of her arm. “Come on. We can do it.”

  She debated another second. But this seemed to be the only answer. He’d already fallen once, and she couldn’t very well leave him on his own. “All right.”

  He leaned against her, and they started down the hallway. The farther she walked away from her own room, the more uneasy she felt.

  When they’d almost reached the end of the west wing, he stopped and motioned to a door on the left. “Here we are. This is my room.”

  “Then I will bid you good night, sir.” She started to pull away.

  But he gripped her arm. “Don’t go. Not yet.”

  Alarm flashed through her. “I must.”

  “It’s all right. Why don’t you come in and keep me company.” He leaned closer, and his liquor-laced breath washed over her. “No one will know.”

  She pulled back. “No sir. I cannot.”

  He grabbed her other arm. “Oh, come on. It will be fun.”

  “Please, let go. You’re not thinking clearly.” But he tightened his hold. A thousand frightening thoughts raced through her panicked mind as a scream rose in her throat. Without warning, he pushed her against the wall.

  She gasped, but he stifled the sound as he pressed his mouth over hers in a burning, punishing kiss.

  William took a candle and climbed the stairs, weary to the bone, although he doubted sleep would come any time soon. The distant sound of piano music floated up from the servants’ hall below. There would be some sleepy-eyed maids and footmen in the morning, but he wouldn’t begrudge them a little New Year’s celebration.

  When he reached the gallery, he heard voices in the west wing hallway. One of them sounded feminine. That was odd. Only he and David were staying down this hall. All the women in the family had rooms in the east wing.

  Had his brother talked one of the housemaids into joining him in his room? A burst of indignation filled his chest, and he strode down the hall. He would not allow it. Not in his house! Holding his candle aloft, the flickering light revealed a couple kissing by David’s door.

  “What is going on?”

  David pulled back, revealing the woman in his embrace.

  A shockwave jolted through William. “Miss Foster!”

  David swayed and lifted his hand. “Now, William, there’s no need to be upset.”

  William grabbed his brother by the shirt front. “What are you doing?”

  David pulled away. “We’re just two lovers kissing good night.”

  Miss Foster gasped. “That’s not true!”

  “It’s no use pretending, my
dear. He has discovered our secret.”

  Miss Foster shook her head, a look of disbelief and revulsion on her face. She was either a very good actress or his brother was a bald-faced liar.

  David closed his eyes and swayed again. “I’d love to stay and chat, but I’m suddenly feeling … very ill.” He raised his hand to his mouth, then turned and lunged into his bedroom, slamming the door behind him.

  Miss Foster turned to him. “Please sir, you must believe me. I never …” Her voice choked off.

  “Then what are you doing all the way down at the end of this wing?”

  “I was helping Mr. Ramsey to his room.”

  “And why would you do that?”

  “He fell at the top of the stairs.” She pointed past his shoulder. “I was coming up from the party in the servants’ hall, when I heard a noise. I went to investigate and discovered Mr. Ramsey sprawled on the carpet, moaning. He asked me to help him back to his room.”

  “Surely you know it’s not appropriate for you to come down here with him. Why didn’t you ring for a footman or Mr. Lawrence?”

  “The servants were all at the party. The singing was quite loud when I left. I didn’t think they would hear the bell.” She looked at him, her expression earnest, but he clenched his jaw and looked away. He would not be swayed by innocent looks or deceived by a far-fetched story. Not in his own house by someone he had trusted.

  She lifted a trembling hand to her throat. “You must believe me, sir.”

  “Well, it’s very hard when I discover you wrapped in my brother’s embrace, kissing a man you barely know.”

  “He stole that kiss!”

  He stared at her, trying to make sense of it, but he couldn’t keep the doubt and disgust from twisting his expression.

  Her eyes glittered, and her mouth firmed. “Very well. If that’s what you think of me, I give you my notice. I’ll leave in the morning.”

  “Now wait a minute! I am in charge here. I will decide if you are to stay or go.”

  “No sir. I cannot work for someone who doubts my word and questions my character.” She stepped past him.

  “Miss Foster!”

  She turned back, her gaze piercing. “I have never lied to you. I’ve always been faithful and true in my heart and in my actions, and if you do not believe that, then I cannot stay.” She left him and fled down the hall.

  Painful doubts tore through him as he watched her go. What if he was wrong? What if she was telling the truth and she was the victim rather than the culprit? If that was the case, she needed him to be her protector and defender, not a judge and jury. But he had not come to her defense. He had let his past influence the present, and he had condemned her because of it.

  The weight of his harsh words pressed down on his heart, and he blew out a deep breath. He started to follow her down the hall, but as he reached his bedroom door, his steps slowed. It was late. They were both tired and upset. Surely it would be better to wait until morning and let their emotions cool. Then they could think more clearly and resolve their differences.

  With a weary heart and load of guilt weighing him down, he opened his bedroom door and entered his room.

  TWENTY-FIVE

  A sob rose in Julia’s throat as she fled down the hall. How could William believe she would welcome a kiss from a drunken cad like David Ramsey? She wasn’t sure which made her angrier—David forcing himself on her or William suspecting she was a willing partner to it. Both were insulting and outrageous.

  She jerked open her bedroom door, rushed inside, and shoved the door closed behind her. With her head pounding, she dropped onto her bed and let her tears flow.

  How could this have happened? Why didn’t William believe her? Would she really have to leave in the morning? Oh, Father, what a terrible, terrible mess. Please help me sort this out.

  For several minutes she poured out her heart to the Lord. When her tears finally slowed, she grabbed a handkerchief from her nightstand and blotted her hot cheeks. It was too late to make sense of it tonight. When morning came, she would pray again and somehow find the strength and direction she needed.

  With a heavy sigh, she rose and changed into her nightgown, then blew out her candle and climbed into bed.

  Closing her eyes, she took several slow, deep breaths, trying to calm her thoughts, but the dreadful events of the evening continued to parade before her eyes.

  Finally, she drifted into a half-dreaming state, but a faint sound in the hall roused her. Squinting toward the door, she listened for a few seconds, then told herself she was being silly. There was no one in the hallway. With a huff, she rolled over and tugged on the blankets, but they had become twisted, so she sat up and shook them out.

  A whiff of smoke drifted past her nose. She stopped and sniffed the air.

  Surely it was just the scent of ashes from her bedroom fireplace carried down the chimney by the wind. Still, she ought to be certain.

  Tossing back the covers, she climbed out of bed. Faint moonlight flowed through the window, illuminating her path to the fireplace. Bending low, she took the poker, examined the charred wood, and sniffed the air.

  The fire had gone out long ago, and there was no scent of smoke. She rose and walked toward her bedroom door, and the smoky smell returned. A tremor raced up her back, bringing her more fully awake.

  She eased the door open, and a hazy wave of smoke poured in. Stifling a gasp, she shoved the door closed. She must warn William and rouse the rest of the family and staff, but her first priority was the children. With a trembling hand, she lit a candle, then grabbed her shoes and shoved them on her feet. There was no time to change, so she grabbed her dressing gown, pulled it on, and tied the sash.

  She started toward the door, then turned back and grabbed her cross necklace from the dressing table and stuffed it in the pocket of her dressing gown.

  Lifting a silent prayer for courage, she opened the door and ran across the hall. Glancing to the right, a shaft of fear pierced her heart. Just a few feet down the hall, flames leaped up the wall and across the ceiling.

  “Fire! Fire!” She ran into the nursery and slammed the door behind her. Jerking the cord several times, she rang the bell to summon someone downstairs. There was no hall boy on duty, but perhaps the scullery maid would hear it and alert Mr. Lawrence. But she had no time to wait for help to arrive. She must take the children to safety before the fire reached their room.

  “Andrew, wake up!” She shook his shoulder.

  He stirred and squinted up at her.

  “There is a fire. You must put on your shoes and coat.”

  His eyes widened. “A fire?”

  “Yes. Now hurry and do as I say.”

  Andrew sprang from his bed and darted to the closet.

  Julia rushed to Millie’s bed and woke her. “Andrew, get Millie’s coat and bring it here.”

  The little girl rubbed her eyes and sat up. “What is it? Why do I need my coat?”

  Julia grabbed Millie’s shoes and knelt before her. “There is a fire, and we must dress quickly and go outside.”

  Millie’s chin quivered, and she began to cry.

  “You must be brave.” Julia’s mind raced as she helped Millie with her coat, then grabbed her hand. “Come with me.” Andrew ran to the door.

  “Wait!” Julia rushed after him. “Let me check first.” She touched the doorknob, and searing heat singed her fingers. She gasped and jerked back. “Don’t touch it!”

  Panic pulsed through her. How could the flames have reached the door so quickly? She spun and searched the room. The only other exit was the window.

  She dashed across the room and unlatched the window. Cold wind blew in, chilling her face and neck.

  Andrew ran to her side. “Maybe we can climb down.”

  Julia leaned out, peering into the darkness, searching for footholds, but even with the moonlight, it was difficult to see clearly. “It’s too high.”

  Andrew knelt on the window seat and looked down. “It
’s not so high.”

  “It’s at least thirty feet, if not more.”

  Andrew’s eyes widened, and he gripped her arm. “I read about some boys who tied sheets together and used them to climb out a window.”

  Julia shook her head. “That’s too dangerous. Millie could never climb down.”

  “But I’m strong. I could do it. Then I could wake the others and get help.”

  Millie’s cries grew louder. Julia clenched her hands, her mind spinning as she searched for another answer, but there was none. “All right.” She ran to Millie’s bed, tore off the sheets, and tied the ends together. Andrew jerked the blankets off his bed and brought her his sheets.

  Millie’s sobs turned to coughs as the stinging smoke and fumes seeped under the door and a smoky haze began filling the room.

  Julia tossed a blanket toward Millie. “Go and lay it in front of the door to keep the smoke out.” Millie picked up the blanket and scampered across the room.

  With Andrew’s help, Julia pushed the heavy oak dresser closer to the window and tied the end of one sheet to the leg. She tugged on the fabric, testing the strength of her knots. She would never forgive herself if Andrew fell and was injured. Maybe she should be the one to climb down and take the risk, but she couldn’t leave Millie.

  There was no other choice. Andrew must go.

  Satisfied that her knots were secure, she tossed the sheets out the window. Andrew joined her on the window seat and gazed down again.

  The sheets dangled and swayed several feet above the ground, and Julia’s heart fell. “It’s not long enough.”

  She started to pull the sheets up, but Andrew stopped her. “It’s all right. I can jump the last few feet.”

  Julia wiped her stinging eyes and checked the distance once more. It looked as though Andrew would have to jump at least six feet. She turned and gripped his shoulders. “Look at me.”

  Andrew lifted his face, his gaze intense.