A Governess of Great Talents

by Murdoch, Emily E K

  Perhaps there was too much water under the bridge for them to find happiness with each other. But they could find Archibald.

  “What am I doing? Helping you, of course,” she said lightly.

  Alfred blinked. “I do not need your help!”

  “Oh, really?” whispered Meredith, conscious that just a few feet in each direction, other inn dwellers were sleeping. “Then why are you here? Why come all this way, wake me and undoubtedly others up, and remove my bedchamber door?”

  She looked pointedly at the door now on the floor, and Alfred had the grace to look a little sheepish.

  Meredith’s heart softened. He looked truly lost, unable to decide what to do next.

  Archibald was missing.

  Meredith sat hesitantly beside Alfred, careful to ensure space between them. “Why are you here, Your Grace?”

  She watched him swallow, watched him gather his thoughts. There were plenty of wrong answers to this question, and perhaps only one right one. The trouble was, neither of them seemed sure what that was.

  “I thought…I thought he might be here.” It seemed to give Alfred pain to speak. “He trusts you. You know him.”

  Meredith knew the truth may hurt the duke, but she had to speak. “What you mean is, that in some ways, I know him better than you do.”

  Alfred nodded. Silence hung between them like a curtain, preventing them from speaking honestly. So much pain had occurred between them, and now Meredith knew the truth about Molly Butters, she could see much of it was of their own making.

  Could they heal the hurt—or most importantly, could she help to find Archibald?

  “I have servants scouring the abbey for him,” Alfred said in a low voice. “I thought, maybe, he had hidden somewhere. Fallen asleep. Not realized we were looking for him.”

  “No, I don’t think so,” said Meredith thoughtfully. “No…”

  Archibald. Where would he go? The boy was eight and barely knew anyone, friendless save for herself.

  She could see why Alfred guessed he could be here. Clever, but wrong. Archibald was not here. It was a long way for a child to walk from the abbey to Rochdale Town, after all.

  A long way to walk…

  “You have searched the whole house?” Meredith said quickly as she rose to pull on her traveling cloak. “Every inch?”

  “Every inch,” said Alfred.

  “Of the house?”

  He blinked. “Yes, I said the house, what does that matter?”

  But Meredith had been thinking quickly, and a wry smile crept over her face. “What is the one thing Archibald is always asking to do but cannot unless someone is with him?”

  Alfred looked utterly blank. “I…I don’t know. Come into town?”

  Meredith worked hard to keep her face straight. It was quite clear Alfred knew as little about his brother as he did the moon. “You came by horse?”

  He nodded. “Yes, but—”

  “Come on,” said Meredith, injecting just a little of her governess tone into her words, and seeing to her delight that Alfred immediately rose and started toward the door.

  “But where are we—”

  “Shh!” Meredith raised a finger to her lips as they stepped onto the landing of the King’s Head. She paused, listening closely. No one else was stirring. By some sort of miracle, they would be able to leave the inn without any spying eyes.

  As she hurried down the stairs, Alfred followed closely with an almost constant stream of whispered questions. “Where is he then? Do you know? Have you worked it out?”

  “I don’t know where,” said Meredith as they let themselves out into the cold night air. “But I think I know how.”

  “How?”

  Meredith ignored him as they raced around to the stables. There was Beauty, fast asleep with her rug carefully placed over her back. And there, still breathing heavily after the undoubted exertion to get his master here at breakneck speed, was Parker.

  “Hello, Beauty,” she whispered as she gently stroked her mare’s nose to wake her.

  The horse blinked hazily, as though unsure herself whether her mistress was a dream. Then Beauty snorted and stepped forward, pushing her nose into Meredith’s hand.

  “Why are we in such a hurry,” said Alfred a little disgruntled, his breath blossoming out into the night air, “if you do not know where we are going?”

  Meredith ignored him. “We need to get going, Beauty,” she whispered, “and I know it’s cold, and the middle of the night, but it’s important. Out you come.”

  Gently encouraging her mare out of the stables, Meredith leapt up onto her back.

  “You can’t ride like that.”

  Meredith frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “Well, a lady would not…you’re riding bareback, in your nightgown!” he spluttered.

  It was all she could do not to roll her eyes. In the midst of a crisis, with his little brother missing, he would rather stand here and lecture her?

  “This will all go much quicker if you stop telling me things that I can and cannot do,” she said curtly. “Now come on.”

  Gently nudging Beauty forward, within a few moments, Alfred joined her on Parker.

  “You must have an idea where to start,” he said as they took the road to the abbey.

  “The stables.”

  Alfred’s forehead puckered with confusion. “The stables? You think he is there?”

  Meredith smiled. Men were so predictable. They simply couldn’t look beyond what was initially there, and start to understand what could be.

  “No,” she said as they pushed their steeds forward to a canter. “I think he took a pony.”

  Alfred’s face fell into an expression of understanding. “You think he’s gone riding—taken Polly the pony? But he has been missing for hours, he could be anywhere!”

  Meredith did not reply. She pushed Beauty into a gallop as she tried to ignore the frantic beating of her heart.

  They reached the stables, and Meredith slipped down from Beauty’s back and pushed open the door. A few horses, disturbed from their sleep, whinnied. Meredith paid them no attention, stepping lightly along the stalls, past the new pony still unnamed by the Rochdale heir, until she reached—

  Polly’s stall. It was empty.

  Meredith’s heart twisted. She wasn’t sure whether she was glad she was right. Even a child inexpert at riding could travel a far distance on a pony. It was usually easy to track, but would the tracks remain after so long?

  “The pony is missing! He’s gone, Archie’s gone,” Alfred said in a low voice. “How will we ever find him now?”

  Meredith swallowed and tried to slow her breathing. She needed to think.

  Hay.

  Looking down, she saw a thin but still evident trail of hay out of the pony’s stall. It took a right, toward the main door. She smiled.

  “See,” she said softly. “Hay.”

  Alfred glanced down. “It’s a stable.”

  Meredith did roll her eyes this time. “Yes, I know, Alfred, but think. Archibald used hay to encourage Polly out of the stall. The pony was tired. That means he probably did not leave until this evening. He can’t have got far.”

  She could feel his stare on the back of her neck as she stepped forward, following the trail. “Are you coming?”

  Alfred looked utterly at sea. “I have no idea who or what you are, do I?”

  Meredith swallowed. She should have known revealing her skills in tracking would raise some awkward questions, but now she had been terminated from her employment, there did not seem to be much point in trying to hide her abilities.

  If they found Archibald, all would be forgiven. If not…

  She had never wanted Alfred to know about her past! He may think her a thief already, falsely, but how would he ever believe that if she revealed her true name?

  “We need to focus on Archibald,” she said shortly.

  They stepped outside the stables, Alfred looking around wildly as though Archib
ald would magically appear before them. Meredith was more interested in the ground. If she was right, if he had only left with Polly a few hours ago…

  “There,” she said with a smile, pointing at the ground.

  “What?”

  “Tracks. Look, see how the curve is smaller than a horse’s hoof? ’Tis a pony.”

  “Archie!” Alfred looked half relieved, half suspicious. “You know this because…?”

  “Let’s keep going,” she said, stepping carefully to ensure she did not scuff the marks.

  Alfred followed her. “Should we not go on horseback? What if he’s miles away?”

  They turned the corner toward the path to the lake. All was stillness and quiet outside, though a few muffled shouts could be heard from the house. The search still continued there, though Meredith was certain now it would be a fruitless one.

  “No, we mustn’t scuff the tracks,” Meredith said slowly, eyes concentrating hard in the darkness. Sometimes she would go two or three feet without a mark, and her heart would sink, and then the trail would appear again. “Besides, he’s only been gone an hour or so.”

  Alfred grabbed her arm and brought her to a halt. “No, that can’t be—I was in his bed-chamber two hours ago, and he was not there!”

  Meredith looked down at his hand and he dropped her’s as if burned. “He may have gone from his bedchamber,” she said slowly, “but he was probably in the stable at that time. He hadn’t managed to coax Polly out.”

  His eyes narrowed. “How do you know all this?”

  Meredith swallowed. This was not the time. “Marks only stay in gravel for about an hour with this wind. Come on.”

  She had only managed to take two more steps before Alfred halted her again, and this time, he did not drop her arm as he looked deeply into her eyes.

  “Before we go any further, Meredith,” he said, “I need to know. You have to tell me how you know these things, how you can track him. Who…what are you?”

  Meredith did not answer. As soon as she told him the truth, there would be no going back, though how they could be more separated from each other, she did not know. There was already so much mistrust, so many lies believed.

  Alfred stepped closer, and Meredith found her heart fluttering.

  “Climbing up trees,” he whispered, “riding bareback, tracking a horse…you…you are a thief, aren’t you?”

  Meredith took a deep breath. “Not anymore.”

  “What!” Alfred’s face paled in the moonlit night. “I thought Archibald was the thief, but instead you—you just hid the spoil in his desk to make it seem—”

  “I am no thief, Alfred, and if you do not believe me then go back up to the house and let me find your brother on my own!” Meredith could not have believed such strong words had come out of her mouth.

  “How can I believe you?”

  Meredith did not know. “I…my family were thieves. Are thieves still, but I left that life a long time ago. I never wanted that, I wanted a normal life, a life without crime!”

  Was she ruining everything by telling him this? Meredith had always hidden her connection to the Glasshand Gang so carefully. Every minute they stood here arguing they could be losing their chance to find Archibald who even now could be hurt, cold, alone.

  “A criminal family?” Alfred was staring as though he had forgotten how to breathe. “A criminal family as my brother’s governess?”

  “You do not think people can change?” Meredith said passionately. “You do not think a good life is possible for those who finally escape iniquity and lawbreaking? Yes, my parents were wrong, and I certainly learned a great deal about horses while I was…was with them. But I turned my back on them six years ago and earn an honest living! How many people in my situation can claim such a thing?”

  Alfred just stared, seemingly unable to speak. Meredith found she was breathing heavily, her lungs painful as they took in huge gulps of freezing air.

  There, it was said. Now to the matter at hand.

  “You are certainly a governess of great talents,” he said finally. “I…I cannot think of anything else. Archibald first.”

  “Do you know if he took a coat?” she said, pulling herself from his grasp and looking down once more at the marks on the ground.

  “I…you…no, I do not know,” said Alfred, evidently deciding he would express his dislike of her later, once his brother had been found.

  Men, Meredith thought as she rolled her eyes. Utterly useless at times.

  The next five minutes were spent in silence, Meredith’s concentration at its height. She knew what she was doing, had tracked horses hundreds of times, but these did not make sense. Instead of going toward the lake as she had initially supposed, the pony seemed to have gone around in circles.

  Eventually they found themselves just outside the kitchen gardens.

  “Are you certain you know what you are doing?” hissed Alfred, but at that very moment, Meredith flung out an arm to stop him in his tracks.

  “Quiet,” she breathed.

  They both fell silent, and on the air came another sound—two sounds. Quiet sobbing, and what could have been hooves on gravel.

  “Archie,” said Alfred as he started to run forward, but Meredith grabbed his hand and pulled him back.

  “No,” she said quietly. “Not yet?”

  “Not yet? Not yet?” Alfred growled. “If that is Archie, then—”

  “Then he will be cold, frightened, and a little embarrassed,” said Meredith quietly. “Trust me. I tame children just as I tamed your horse. We go slowly.”

  For a moment, she was not sure whether he would obey. It was rather odd, giving orders to a duke, but Meredith held her gaze with the man she knew she still loved.

  Eventually, Alfred smiled wryly. “Like a spooked horse?”

  Meredith returned the smile hesitantly and nodded.

  And still, she loved him. She could not magic away the feelings which had overwhelmed her weeks ago.

  Stepping forward together, they came around a corner and saw—Archibald.

  He was curled up in a corner of the kitchen garden, his shirt torn and his face flushed with tears. Polly, the pony, was beside him.

  As they came into view in the moonlit night, Archibald stood hastily and tried to wipe his eyes.

  “Alfred!”

  Meredith glanced at the duke, who seemed relieved his brother had cried out his name rather than that of his governess.

  “H-How did you find me?” asked the boy.

  Alfred looked at Meredith for a moment before saying, “We were very worried about you, Archie. We found you as quickly as we could.”

  They stepped toward the boy and sat on either side of him. Archibald dropped gratefully down as though his legs would not hold him for much longer and leaned his head on Alfred’s arm.

  “I…I don’t want you to be fighting each other.”

  Meredith looked at Alfred over Archibald’s head. Here, in this moment, it was almost as though they were a family. She knew governesses were never supposed to be too close to the children they cared for. That was when it got complicated.

  She almost laughed. More complicated than being accused of theft by a duke with whom you had fallen in love?

  “We…we are not fighting,” Alfred said softly.

  Meredith smiled ruefully. “We are not?”

  Her remark made Alfred shake his head before he said, “Archie, I-I found the things you had hidden in your desk. Were you…were you looking for things about Father?”

  Meredith could not believe it—she had been right! The thief, if thief he could be called, had been Archibald all along.

  Archibald nodded, looking up at his brother and his governess fearfully. “Am I in trouble?”

  “Of course not,” Meredith said hastily before Alfred could say anything. “We were just worried that you might have come to harm.”

  “But you are safe now, and that is all that matters,” said Alfred quietly.

 
Archibald wiped his nose with his sleeve, a filthy habit Meredith had still not managed to train out of him, and then sniffed loudly.

  “That is not all that matters,” he said firmly. “You don’t like each other.”

  Meredith’s gaze moved from the younger to the older brother. “Well, I…I would not put it quite like that.”

  The cold of the gravel was seeping into her bones, but warmth stirred in Meredith’s heart. Alfred had a strange expression, one she had never seen before.

  “No, neither would I,” he said gently, looking deep into Meredith’s eyes. “Not when we are getting married.”

  Meredith blinked. No, she could not have heard that correctly. Alfred would never say such a thing—would he?

  “We are?”

  Alfred nodded. “We are going to be a family, Meredith, you, and me, and Archie. Perhaps more.”

  Meredith could hardly take it in. Only when Alfred leaned over Archibald’s head and kissed her, reverentially and deeply, did she believe her own ears and her own heart.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  October 15, 1812

  “I still do not understand why we have to wait around like fools,” Alfred muttered.

  All the eyes on him were making his skin crawl. He knew he should not mind, and he knew the acceptance speech he would have to make could be short, thank God, but still. Whenever he entered the Town Hall these days, he felt a great sense of foreboding.

  There was a squeeze of his hand, and Alfred’s heart slowed thanks to the comfort of the woman beside him. The woman who would never leave him. The woman he had been fortunate to have a second chance to win.

  “Don’t fuss,” Meredith said quietly by his side. “It is a pleasant enough day, and we only have to be here another hour at the most. Besides, the people like to see you.”

  Alfred looked out across the room. Yes, there were plenty of people there; he could espy the Hemmings, the Johnsons, even the Reverend Michaels and the entire Walker clan, which was saying something. Everyone who was anyone was here to celebrate his win. There was even tea and cake being passed round by the Walkers, their servants wandering around with teapots offering more tea to those with cups.