A Lady Becomes a Governess

by Diane Gaston

  He wished those early days could have lasted. He wished they would have been real.

  ‘What would you like to do today?’ she asked the girls.

  Now he knew why she did not do the things he expected a governess to do. She was never one in the first place. What governess would ask the children what to do?

  ‘May we ride our ponies?’ Pamela asked.

  Ellen looked less excited about this prospect, but she nodded her agreement.

  ‘Very well,’ Lady Rebecca said.

  Her love of horses. That was genuine, Garret supposed. One could not disguise such skill and enthusiasm.

  Ellen turned to him. ‘Uncle Garret, will you come, too?’

  He’d enjoyed the time he’d spent helping them learn to ride, but he could not be with her, not even with the children there. This breakfast was difficult enough.

  ‘Not today, Ellen,’ he said. ‘I have estate business.’

  She jumped out of her chair to come and hug him. ‘We will miss you, Uncle Garret.’

  He would miss this, too, even though some of it was not real.

  * * *

  Later that morning when Lady Agnes was certain Brookmore was otherwise occupied, she had her coachman drive her to Ambleside, to the Unicorn Inn.

  She marched into the hall and demanded of the innkeeper, ‘Find Sir Orin. I wish to speak with him privately in the drawing room.’

  The innkeeper pulled on his forelock and bustled off to do her bidding. Lady Agnes swept into the drawing room, which was empty. A good thing because she would have sent anyone there packing. She was too agitated to sit. She paced the room.

  Finally Sir Orin appeared, with a cut on his cheek, a large bruise forming under his eye and pouting lips.

  ‘Lady Agnes,’ he said unenthusiastically.

  She walked right up to him, glaring. ‘What an idiot you are, Sir Orin. You forced yourself on Miss Tilson? How could you be so stupid?’

  ‘I was tired of her spurning me.’ He rubbed his jaw. ‘I purchased a beautiful horse for her. She would not even look at it. I tell you, she is so changed.’ He glanced away. ‘Had to sell the horse, too. Lost a bundle on him.’

  She faced him. ‘I only speak to you because I want to be rid of her and you are still my best chance. Do you still want her or not?’

  ‘I want her,’ he responded earnestly. ‘But she will have nothing to do with me. I do not have the luxury of time to change her mind. Your fiancé made it clear I was to leave the area. I only await the mail coach which is expected in a couple of hours.’

  She waved her fingers. ‘We can work around Brookmore’s edict.’ She stared into his face. ‘Are you willing to force her to leave with you? How far are you willing to go to achieve this desire of yours.’

  ‘There is nothing I would not do.’ The look in his eyes turned malevolent. ‘I have already gone quite far.’

  She liked a man who went after what he wanted, even if this one was not smart enough to achieve it on his own. ‘We need a plan. We need some way to force her to come to you.’

  He gestured for her to sit down. Her restlessness had abated now that she could focus on her desire—to have Miss Tilson gone. She lowered herself into one of the chairs and he sat across from her.

  ‘What of Brookmore?’ He touched the cut on his face. ‘I suspect he will check to see I’ve gone.’

  This part was easy. ‘Ride the coach as far as Outgate, then disembark there. Then find a secluded cottage to rent. Somewhere apart from other people. Send me word of where you are.’ She could not receive mail from him at Brookmore House. ‘Send word here. I will arrange for my coachman to pick it up.’

  ‘How am I to entice Claire there?’ he asked. ‘She will not want to come.’

  Lady Agnes’s mouth stretched into a smile. ‘We must provide her with incentive.’

  Lady Agnes’s plan came to her quickly, but it was foolproof. Miss Tilson would come running to Sir Orin and Lady Agnes would be rid of her at last.

  Then, she was convinced, Brookmore would turn to her once again and the marriage could take place very quickly.

  * * *

  The next few days brought disruption to the routine which had so recently made Rebecca restless. She rarely saw Lord Brookmore. He’d stopped sharing breakfast with her and the children, but not because of Rebecca. She’d heard through Mary that the crops were suffering from the unusual cold and that Lord Brookmore spent most of his time with the tenant farmers and his estate manager trying to figure out how to keep the people and livestock fed throughout the winter. They’d decided to purchase stores now in anticipation of hardship later. He and the manager would be gone for a couple of days to accomplish this task.

  It was the first time he would be away from Rebecca since she woke to see him standing over her in Moelfre, after the shipwreck. He’d made a point to inform her that Sir Orin had left Ambleside in a mail coach bound for Liverpool, but still she felt rudderless without him.

  When he’d spoken to her about Sir Orin’s departure, he had been cold. She could not blame him. She’d deceived him and now she could see the real harm that came from that decision.

  At least she could relax in her role as governess. It did not matter if she performed like a real governess or not. He knew she was not. She and the girls simply did whatever came into their minds. They learned writing and spelling by keeping their journals. They read the books in the schoolroom and Rebecca read to them books she found in Lord Brookmore’s library. On a rainy day they explored the attic, finding many of the children’s mother’s things and some of their governess’s things, prompting the girls to talk about both of them. Rebecca even started them on needlework, a skill at which she was only passable, but she knew enough to teach a nine-and seven-year-old.

  And they rode the ponies.

  Pamela and Ellen finally did ride enough to venture out of the paddock. Rebecca led them on Lily and the girls followed. One of the stablemen rode along for a little more security. Though it was unusually cold, it felt delightful to ride amongst the fells and waters, the mountains and lakes.

  This day Rebecca and the girls were in the schoolroom practising their needlework. To Rebecca’s surprise Lady Agnes came to the door.

  ‘May I join you?’ Lady Agnes asked, walking in before her question could be answered. She looked at what the girls were doing. ‘Oh, needlework! I adore needlework.’

  ‘Say good day to Lady Agnes, girls,’ Rebecca told them. ‘As I taught you.’

  Pamela and Ellen got out of their chairs, faced Lady Agnes and curtsied. ‘Good day, Lady Agnes,’ they parroted.

  ‘How charming!’ Lady Agnes clapped her hands. ‘Now show me your needlework. Are you making samplers?’

  ‘We are merely practising stitches,’ Rebecca said. ‘Pamela is practising ten basic stitches and Ellen is practising the running stitch and the backstitch.’

  Ellen lifted her embroidery hoop so that Lady Agnes could see her efforts.

  Lady Agnes sat next to the little girl. ‘Shall I show you how to do it?’

  Ellen politely allowed Lady Agnes to criticise her childish efforts, making her start over again. Rebecca watched this performance and tried to guess why the woman had come to the schoolroom, when she’d never shown an interest in doing so.

  When Ellen had her hoop and needle in hand again, Rebecca asked, ‘Is there some purpose to your visit with us, Lady Agnes?’

  Lady Agnes sighed. ‘I am afraid I am missing dear Brookmore. My aunt naps and I am feeling quite lonely. I decided to see if I can make myself useful and become more acquainted with Brookmore’s nieces.’ She smiled at Rebecca. ‘You do not mind?’

  To be in her company, especially after all she’d said and done at the dinner party? ‘Of course we do not mind,’ Rebecca said.

  Pamela, who sat so only Rebecca could see, rolled
her eyes. Rebecca winked back.

  What she could not figure was Lady Agnes’s true reason for this visit.

  * * *

  Lady Agnes came back to the schoolroom the next day and the next and she invited Rebecca to join her and her aunt for dinner. Rebecca might have seen this behaviour as an attempt at friendliness, perhaps even some empathy for the assault Rebecca endured from Sir Orin, but often enough Lady Agnes said something unkind to or about someone, revealing her true nature. Her words were always spoken in the most amiable tone and her barbs were subtle, but Rebecca heard them. Lord Brookmore had not yet returned and perhaps Lady Agnes’s cordiality was simply so she could tell him how good she’d been while he was away.

  In any event, Rebecca suspected it would cease when Lord Brookmore returned.

  This morning, Lady Agnes stopped Rebecca in the hallway outside the schoolroom where the girls were waiting after they all finished breakfast.

  Lady Agnes pressed her fingers to her temple. ‘May I ask a favour of you, Miss Tilson?’

  ‘Very well.’ Rebecca held her breath.

  Lady Agnes attempted a pained smile. ‘Would you ride into Ambleside and purchase a headache remedy from the apothecary? My head is pounding so I cannot go myself.’

  ‘I have to attend to the children,’ Rebecca responded.

  ‘I will stay with them,’ Lady Agnes said. ‘If I sit my headache is not so bad.’

  ‘Could your maid not go?’ Errands for guests of the household were not the responsibility of the governess. What was Lady Agnes’s true motive?

  ‘She’s attending to my aunt, who is feeling unwell today.’ Agnes looked at her with slitted eyes. ‘Please, Miss Tilson? I do so need your help. There is no one else I can ask. My coachman will drive you.’

  ‘Then send your coachman on the errand!’ Rebecca said.

  Lady Agnes produced tears. ‘I cannot ask him! The man is illiterate. I need someone who can discuss things with the apothecary. How do I know he will have the right powders? If he doesn’t, I need someone with judgement to make a decision what to buy! Please, Miss Tilson!’

  Rebecca was either being manipulated by an excellent actress or Lady Agnes truly had a terrible headache. In any event, the argument over whether she should go or not was likely to take longer than the errand itself. She could be back in an hour or so.

  ‘Ambleside is not far. I can walk it faster than the horses could be hitched to a coach.’

  ‘Then you will do it?’ Lady Agnes’s smile turned grateful. ‘He could take you in the gig.’

  Rebecca was still uncertain about this. ‘I will walk. What do I ask for from the apothecary?’

  Lady Agnes handed her a folded piece of paper and a purse full of coin. ‘I have written it down.’

  ‘Very well. Let me tell the children and I will go.’ Rebecca entered the schoolroom and Lady Agnes followed.

  ‘I have an errand in Ambleside,’ she told the girls. ‘Lady Agnes will sit with you.’ She turned to Lady Agnes. ‘Really, teach them anything you like.’

  Lady Agnes nodded. ‘I will.’

  Rebecca returned to her room to collect her bonnet, gloves and the shawl Lord Brookmore had given to her that first day on the road. She told the footman attending the hall where she was going and stepped out into the morning air, which was a bit warmer than when she rode Lily earlier. A brisk walk would warm her.

  She might even enjoy the exercise and the solitude.

  Chapter Twenty

  Lady Agnes made the girls practise their needlework and while they did so, she leafed through the latest issue of La Belle Assemblée.

  After a half-hour, she glanced at the clock and stood.

  She clapped her hands. ‘Pamela! Ellen! I have the most fabulous idea.’

  The girls looked up at her.

  ‘Do you know how Miss Tilson had to do an errand for me in Ambleside?’

  They nodded.

  She went on. ‘Well, she said she would walk there.’ How lucky Lady Agnes was that Miss Tilson decided to walk. It made matters so much easier. ‘Would it not be the loveliest surprise if I asked my coachman to drive the two of you to Ambleside to meet her so she will not have to walk home? Would that not be the very best surprise?’ She could see she’d kindled their interest. She intended to make it impossible for them to refuse. ‘I will give you coins so you may purchase some gingerbread. Would you like that?’

  ‘I would,’ cried Ellen, bursting with excitement. She turned to her sister. ‘Pamela, you would, too, would you not?’

  ‘I suppose.’ Pamela was obviously a little wary.

  No matter. Agnes was not about to allow a nine-year-old child to stop her.

  ‘Wait here a moment.’ She hurried to the door. ‘I will see to my coachman.’

  Agnes descended the back stairs and left the house through the back entrance, careful that no one saw her. She walked through the garden and across the park until she could see a village cart waiting on the road, obscured from view by a group of trees. She waved to Sir Orin and he waved back.

  When she returned for the girls, she made herself animated again. ‘We are so lucky! I caught him already driving a village cart. Would you like to ride on a village cart?’

  ‘Yes!’ cried Ellen.

  ‘Then you shall. I have another idea!’ Agnes went on. ‘Let’s tell nobody what we are doing. Let us leave them a note.’ She took a piece of paper and opened an inkwell. She wrote on the paper and folded it, leaving it on the table.

  In no time they were walking through the garden and out the back gate.

  ‘He will meet us on the road.’

  It did not matter that the children could tell Brookmore or anyone else that Agnes arranged their little wagon ride. She would just say they were making it up. Who would believe children?

  ‘Hello there!’ The driver of the cart jumped down and helped the girls over the stone fence.

  After he put both girls on the seat and climbed up next to them, Pamela cried, ‘Wait, Lady Agnes. Are you not accompanying us?’

  She laughed. ‘Of course not! There is not enough room. As it is, one of you will have to ride on Miss Tilson’s lap coming home.’ She reached in her pocket and handed Pamela several coins. ‘This is for your gingerbread. Do not lose it.’

  Pamela closed her small hand around the money and glanced up at the sky. ‘It is all grey today. Maybe it will rain.’

  ‘It will not rain,’ Agnes assured her. And if it did, a little rain would not hurt them.

  ‘I do not think we should do this,’ Pamela said as Sir Orin pulled away. ‘It might rain and we might become ill with a fever.’

  ‘Nonsense,’ Agnes said, waving them off.

  Agnes heard Sir Orin say in a jovial voice, ‘Do not worry, little lady. It will be an adventure.’

  Agnes grinned to herself as she watched the cart drive away. It was a masterful plan she’d created. She’d wait a half-hour before sounding the alarm that the children were missing. Sir Orin would be well on the road by then. He would take the girls to a rented cottage on Lake Windermere, where he would entertain them until Miss Tilson arrived to secure their release. She would be handed a letter while she was in Ambleside saying that the children had been abducted and her acceptance of Sir Orin’s suit was the ransom she must pay.

  Of course, the abduction was merely a ruse. The children would be returned later with a dramatic tale to tell, but Agnes had already invented a much more plausible explanation that surely would be believed. The best part was Miss Tilson would have already left with Sir Orin.

  ‘When wanting someone to do your bidding, find their weakness,’ she said aloud.

  The children were Miss Tilson’s weakness.

  Agnes turned towards the house and started walking back.

  * * *

  Rebecca left the apothe
cary with a vial containing the headache remedy Lady Agnes had requested. She no sooner stepped out into the street when a boy approached her.

  ‘Are you Miss Tilson, miss?’ he asked.

  ‘I am.’ She was puzzled he would ask.

  He handed her a folded piece of paper that bore a plain seal, bowed and left.

  She broke the seal and read.

  Dearest Claire,

  I cannot live without you. I must have you. I am desperate. I have abducted Lord Brookmore’s nieces. If you value their lives, you will come to me.

  Go to the Unicorn Inn. There is a carriage waiting for you that will take you to Far Sawrey. From there you will walk two miles along the coast of Lake Windermere. I will find you and bring you to the children.

  Tell no one. Leave immediately. If you do not follow my instructions to the letter, I cannot vouch for the well-being of the children.

  Yours, etc.

  You know who I am.

  She folded the paper, her heart pounding.

  She should tell Lord Brookmore! But he would not return until tomorrow. She could not wait. The children’s lives depended on her. There was no choice but to do what Sir Orin said.

  How could he have known she would be here?

  Rebecca felt the blood drain from her face. Lady Agnes.

  This was why Lady Agnes befriended her. This was why she sent her on this errand. Surely she was not so depraved she would risk the lives of the children?

  Sir Orin was that depraved, however.

  She stopped a man on the street. ‘Please direct me to the Unicorn Inn.’

  * * *

  It was almost two hours before she alighted at Far Sawrey and began walking. The coastline of the lake was heavily wooded and the breeze through the trees chilled her to the bone. She could not think of her comfort now. She thought only of the children.

  She half-expected Sir Orin to jump out from behind a tree, accost her like he’d done on her morning rides. She half-hoped there would be other people on the road, someone who might help her, but she was very much alone.