A Lady Becomes a Governess

by Diane Gaston

  She walked on. Surely she’d walked two miles already? Finally she spied a cottage, far from the road at the edge of the lake. Her senses heightened. Was this where he would be? She slowed her pace, carefully surveying her surroundings. There was the cottage and one outbuilding, both difficult to see from the road.

  Sir Orin stepped from a path that she assumed led to the cottage. He smiled.

  ‘Claire, you are finally here.’ He approached with arms outstretched. ‘I knew you would come.’

  She stepped back. ‘Where are the children?’

  His smile faltered, but remained on his face. ‘They are in the cottage.’ He gestured for her to follow. ‘Follow me.’

  The path was bordered with scrubby brush and jagged rocks.

  Sir Orin swept his arm over them. ‘One way in to this cottage.’ In an open area, a village cart stood. He pointed to it. ‘Our transportation.’

  ‘Are the children unharmed?’ she demanded.

  He turned back to her. ‘I have no wish to harm them.’ He grinned. ‘That is, unless you do not co-operate with me.’

  A chill went up her spine.

  The path led to the outbuilding, which was a stable. Rebecca could see the horse inside. Fat raindrops started to fall, kicking up the dirt of the path.

  Sir Orin stopped and looked up at the sky. ‘Rain. I had not anticipated rain.’

  The raindrops fell faster.

  They finally reached the door of the cottage. Sir Orin took a key from his pocket and unlocked it.

  When he opened the door, Rebecca rushed through. ‘Pamela! Ellen! Are you here!’

  Footsteps sounded from a back room. The children appeared, running towards her. She knelt down and scooped them into a hug. They looked unharmed. They felt unharmed.

  She examined them more closely.

  ‘See! I told Pamela you would meet us here,’ Ellen cried. ‘Just like John Coachman said.’

  ‘John Coachman?’ Was there another man here?

  ‘That is what he told us to call him.’ Ellen pointed to Sir Orin. ‘He said all coachmen are called John Coachman.’

  ‘I am here now and all will be well,’ she said, hugging them again. ‘Have you had something to eat?’

  ‘Sweetmeats and tea,’ Ellen said. ‘And we’ve played games. But Pamela was worried you would not come.’

  Pamela nodded. ‘It is a diversion to Ellen.’ She spoke this in a way that showed she thought it anything but a diversion.

  Pamela looked sad. ‘I hope we will be home soon.’

  Rain pattered the roof of the cottage, louder and louder, until it sounded like one constant din.

  Sir Orin went to the window and looked out. ‘It appears we are here until tomorrow unless this rain lets up.’ He shooed the girls towards the back room. ‘Leave us now. I need to talk to Miss Tilson.’

  The girls looked reluctant to leave her.

  ‘Go,’ she told them. ‘I will be with you in a moment.’

  Pamela took Ellen’s hand and pulled her into the room.

  Sir Orin closed the door and turned the key in the lock. ‘Do not worry. They have cards to play with. And spillikins.’

  ‘You do not need them now. I am here. Take them back to Brookmore House.’ She needed them to be safe.

  He gestured to the window. ‘In the rain?’

  In rain, snow, anything as long as they were away from him. He was more dangerous than being caught in the rain.

  He came closer. She backed away.

  ‘Do not fear, Claire, dear, I am not going to force myself on you. Not like before. I do apologise.’

  ‘What do you want from me, then?’ she asked.

  He became serious. ‘I still want you to marry me. Marry me and come back to Ireland with me.’

  ‘Or?’

  His eyes turned cold. ‘Or you will be very unhappy.’

  ‘You cannot want me,’ she insisted. ‘You know I despise you.’

  His forehead creased. ‘You do say the most frightful things to me now. In Ireland you protested only that I was married and that you had no wish to betray my wife. Now you simply refuse me.’

  ‘Never mind about me. Please let the children go. Take them to Far Sawrey, at least. It is only two miles.’ She could think of nothing else.

  He walked to the window, turned and smiled. ‘I would not wish them to get wet. That was not in the plan.’

  ‘The plan.’ Of course, this abduction was planned. ‘You planned this with Lady Agnes, did you not?’

  ‘She has proved to be a valuable ally,’ he responded.

  ‘What was supposed to happen, if not for the rain?’ she asked.

  He laughed. ‘According to Lady Agnes, the children were to be returned once I secured your...affections, shall we call it, then you and I were to be in a carriage on our way to Gretna Green before the sky turned dark.’

  What did he mean according to Lady Agnes? ‘And according to you?’

  He lowered himself into a chair and looked up at her. ‘I was thinking, what would make you stay if the children were returned safely? Lady Agnes did not consider that, did she? So they will come with us to Gretna Green, after which I will not need them any more, because you will finally be mine.’

  Rebecca trembled inside. Did he mean he would return the children safely or not? A man who most likely killed his wife would be equally as capable of doing away with children. Rebecca could not take the chance. They must escape him.

  He continued. ‘You have left a note, asking for money in exchange for the children, with elaborate instructions for its delivery. That is all a humbug, you see. Some poor fool will find the money and be thought to be your accomplice. No one will suspect me, of course, because I left Ambleside the day after Lord Brookmore threatened me.’

  Sir Orin and Lady Agnes had no idea exactly how plausible this scheme would be to Lord Brookmore. It was the sort of thing an imposter with no money might do rather than risk being kicked out without a reference or pay.

  If that imposter had no love for the children and their uncle, that was.

  Her heart raced wildly, but she needed to remain calm.

  She sat in a chair near him. ‘It seems you and Lady Agnes have thought of everything.’

  He turned pensive. ‘I did need her, at least before this. I’ve no doubt that I might have devised a workable plan on my own, but—’ He gave her a meaningful look. ‘I was in the throes of passion. My head is clear now, though. I will not make any future mistakes.’

  If he did not make another mistake, the children were doomed. No matter what, she must not make any mistakes either. No more defiance. She must make herself as much like Claire as she could be until a way to escape offered itself.

  He gestured to a kettle on the fire in the fireplace. ‘Make me some tea, Claire. Have some yourself, if you like.’

  At one end of the room there was a scullery with dirty cups, saucers and plates piled in it and a pantry where she found a tea caddy, some sugar, a large jug of milk and a tin of biscuits.

  ‘Is this all there is to eat?’ she asked.

  He shrugged. ‘That is all I bought. That and some sweetmeats for the children, which they have eaten already.’ He waved an arm. ‘Bring me some biscuits, as well.’

  She put some tea in the pot and poured water from the kettle into it. ‘May I offer some tea to the children?’ she asked.

  ‘The children.’ He laughed. ‘I quite forgot about them. You may serve them after you serve me. I prefer they stay in that room.’

  She did as he bid as deferentially as she could manage, although she had considered throwing boiling water on him and making a run for it. She didn’t think she could release the girls from their prison fast enough, though.

  When she’d finished serving him, she picked up the tea tray. ‘May I spend some time
with the children? I fear if I do not, they may become alarmed and hysterical.’

  ‘Excellent point, Claire.’ He rose and unlocked the door. He even opened it for her so that she could carry the tea to the children.

  He left the door open.

  Pamela and Ellen rose from their seats and came to her.

  ‘I brought us some tea.’ She set the tray on the table and set out the tea cups as if they were in the Tower Room at Brookmore House.

  ‘When will we go home?’ Pamela asked.

  Ellen stood next to her chair and leaned against her. ‘I want to go home, too.’

  She did not want to alarm them. ‘Our adventure is going to last a bit longer than expected.’

  She glanced out the window. The cottage overlooked Lake Windermere. Wind whipped the trees that grew at the lake’s edge and the water’s waves washed over a stone jetty. Tied to a post by the jetty was a rowing boat bobbing in the water like a bucking horse.

  Rebecca’s stomach roiled and she felt as if she were in another rowing boat being tossed by waves. She closed her eyes and turned back to the girls.

  ‘Do not worry,’ she told them. ‘I will not leave you.’

  Chapter Twenty-One

  The rain fell in sheets, but Garret and his estate manager decided to push through the bad weather and make it back to Brookmore House before dark rather than stay in one more uncomfortable inn.

  Being away had been good for Garret. He’d at least solved one of his problems, securing enough stores to get them through a bad harvest. His more domestic problems remained unresolved, but the distance from them had done him some good. That and spending his days on Skiddaw’s back like in the army. Garret felt more himself than he’d felt since his brother died. He was not certain what that meant ultimately, but it felt much better to be in his own skin again.

  He’d missed Pamela and Ellen. He’d even missed Lady Rebecca.

  The roads had turned muddy and the horses made slower progress, but eventually Garret saw the Brookmore gates and knew they’d soon be warm and in dry clothes.

  As they approached, a woman emerged from the house and ran towards them, hatless and coatless and unheeding the pouring rain.

  ‘Lord Brookmore! Lord Brookmore!’ It was Mary Beale, the girls’ maid.

  ‘Mary?’ He halted his horse.

  She grabbed on to a stirrup. ‘Sir! The children are missing! They are missing! And Miss Tilson.’

  His calmness fled. ‘What? When?’

  ‘We found them gone late this morning. They haven’t returned!’ she cried.

  ‘Have you searched for them?’ Ben asked.

  ‘Yes!’ She took a breath. ‘Mr Glover sent several men out, all over the countryside. No one found any sign of them.’

  Visions of Ellen and Lady Rebecca in the lake assaulted him. They wouldn’t be so foolish a second time, would they?

  ‘Here.’ He extended his hand to her and pulled her up on to his horse.

  They hurried to the house. When they reached the door, Garret helped Mary down and dismounted himself.

  ‘I’ll take the horses,’ Ben said. ‘When they’re settled I’ll come back. See how I can help.’

  Garret rushed inside.

  Glover, Mrs Dodd and several of the other servants were in the hall. A footman came over and helped peel off his wet clothes.

  He wasted no time. ‘Tell me what happened.’

  Mary, shivering from dashing out into the rain, spoke. ‘I was coming to the schoolroom to see if Miss Pamela and Miss Ellen wanted nuncheon when Lady Agnes ran out, saying the girls and Miss Tilson were gone.’

  ‘Lady Agnes?’ Garret’s suspicions rose.

  ‘She’d been spending time in the schoolroom the last couple of days,’ Mary explained.

  ‘In the schoolroom?’

  Mary nodded. ‘We sent up an alarm in the house, but no one had seen them and no one had heard them go out, but we knew they did, because their hats, gloves and jackets were gone.’

  ‘I saw Miss Tilson,’ one of the footmen said. ‘She left to do an errand in the village, but she never came back.’

  Glover spoke up. ‘We sent men to search the estate and the countryside, but we didn’t find them. A villager saw a cart and driver with what might have been two little girls, but he was not certain.’

  Brant made his arthritic way down the stairs. ‘I found this!’ He waved a letter in his hand, but halted when he saw Garret. ‘My lord! You are back. Thank God.’

  Garret bounded up the stairs to his valet, who handed him the letter. Still on the stairs he broke the seal and saw it was written in a careful hand.

  He read it.

  Dear Lord Brookmore,

  I have taken your nieces to a place where you will not find them. Follow these instructions carefully or you will never see them again.

  I want five hundred pounds for their safe return...

  There followed instructions on when and where to leave the ransom.

  Garret skipped to the end of the letter.

  Yours,

  C. Tilson

  Claire Tilson.

  He crushed the paper in his hand. ‘Where is Lady Agnes? I wish to see her immediately.’

  ‘The poor dear is in her room with her aunt,’ Mrs Dodd responded. ‘She is quite shaken by this, as well we all are.’

  Garret continued up the stairs to Lady Agnes’s room. He opened the door, not bothering to knock. ‘Lady Agnes.’

  She sat on the sofa, leaning against her aunt, patting her hand. At his abrupt entrance both ladies jumped.

  Lady Agnes emitted a cry. ‘Brookmore! You are here.’

  Was that shock on her face? He was not expected until tomorrow.

  He looked pointedly at her aunt. ‘Leave us.’

  He must have appeared fearsome, because the aunt’s eyes widened in fright.

  ‘I should st-stay,’ she stammered. ‘Not proper.’

  ‘Leave,’ he said again.

  Lady Agnes wiped her eyes with a lace-edged handkerchief. ‘Oh, leave us, Aunt Theodora. These are special times. Brookmore needs me now, I am certain.’

  Her aunt needed no more encouragement.

  When she’d gone, Lady Agnes flung herself against the sofa. ‘You’ve heard! They are gone. I am certain something terrible has happened to them.’

  He walked through the room, stopping by the writing desk, opening its drawers.

  ‘Are you looking for something, Brookmore, dear?’ she asked sweetly.

  He was looking for something with her handwriting on it.

  ‘Tell me what you know.’ His clothing was still wet and dripped on the carpet.

  She acted as if she were stifling a sob. ‘I do not know much. I spent some time with Miss Tilson and the dear children—I thought I must do something to make up for the night of the dinner party—I had been with them earlier. When I came back, they were gone and no one knew where they were.’ She wiped her eyes again. ‘That is all I know.’

  ‘What of this?’ He shoved the letter in her face.

  She took it from his hand and smoothed out the paper.

  ‘Oh, my goodness!’ she cried as she read the letter. ‘I do not believe it.’

  ‘I do not believe it either.’

  She shook her head. ‘I had no idea Miss Tilson was capable of such treachery! I mean, she was odd, not like a governess at all, but...this?’

  ‘You spent time with her,’ he said.

  She sighed. ‘I treasured the time I spent—not with her, but with Pamela and Ellen. Those little girls are so sweet.’ She looked him in the eye. ‘I could not have guessed Miss Tilson would ever threaten to harm them.’

  He seized her by the shoulders and pulled her to a standing position. ‘Tell me what you did.’ The letter fluttered to the floor.


  She wriggled beneath his grasp. ‘Stop being brutish!’ Her despairing tone fled. ‘You are cold and wet.’

  He released her. ‘You wrote this.’ He picked up the letter.

  ‘Me?’ She made a nervous laugh. ‘Do not be absurd!’

  ‘Who else wanted her gone?’ He glared at her. ‘Now tell me where she and the children are.’

  ‘How would I know that?’ She twisted her face into a wounded expression. ‘I am desolated that you would think such a thing of me.’ She took a shuddering breath. ‘You simply do not wish to believe she wrote that.’ She blinked as if fighting back tears. ‘She must have written it. I know it is painful to think of her doing it. After all, you trusted her with your nieces. But it makes no sense for anyone else to write it.’

  She was trying too hard to convince him.

  ‘I know she did not write it.’ He shoved the paper at her again.

  She perused it once more, as if examining it carefully. ‘I am so sorry, Brookmore.’ Her voice turned a sugary sympathetic. ‘But how well did you know her, really? Did you know her writing?’

  He did. She’d written a note to him. He could not remember her handwriting specifically, but this was not hers. He knew it.

  He pointed to the letter. ‘I know this is not her writing.’

  She put a hand on his arm as if in consolation. ‘Dear Brookmore. You waste time. You must do as the letter says, for the children’s sake. She is missing and the children are missing and she left you a letter explaining it all. You cannot know this is from anyone but her.’

  He removed her hand. ‘I do know.’ He knew because she would not have signed her name Claire Tilson. He was not about to divulge her secret to Lady Agnes.

  He took Lady Agnes by the arm and sat her back on the sofa. ‘Let me tell you what I think you have done. You have colluded with Sir Orin who has kidnapped the three of them. Tell me where I am to find them before it is too late.’

  She brushed off where he’d touched her. ‘Did not Sir Orin leave here after you brutalised him?’

  He leaned over her. ‘Did he tell you I brutalised him?’ She’d just confirmed his suspicion that she was involved.