GovernessForaWeek

by Barbara Miller

  “You could, of course, ask your aunt to stay, the one who is planning the ball.”

  “No. I should never be rid of her.”

  “What about a female relative on Miss Greenway’s side? That would be even better.”

  “I suppose I could ask her mother to stay. Better than inviting Aunt Alva who once ensconced might never leave.”

  “Do you know Major Greenway’s wife?”

  “Not even slightly but I have memorized her direction. Take a letter, Hill.”

  * * * * *

  After she had changed from her riding dress, Marian left her letter on the hall table to be posted. In the middle of French lessons she decided not to send it, not to burden her mother. But when she went for it, the table was empty and the die was cast.

  Instead of another art lesson, she decided to take Charlotte and Henry to see some art at the Royal Academy or possibly to the Society of Painters in Oil and Water-Colours if she could determine their new location. Wyle had left the house on business but when she consulted Mr. Hill, she was relieved that he seemed more than glad to escort them. But he insisted on a closed carriage in case it might rain.

  When they were finally underway she said, “I hate to take you away from your work.”

  “I have nearly caught up with Lord Wyle, all that he wrote while I was away.”

  Marian smiled. “Wyle has said I may read his memoirs when the work is closer to completion.”

  “We should both be glad for another eye in regards to punctuation and grammar but would the battle accounts…forgive me. I am speaking foolishly to the daughter of a soldier.”

  “I want to read it too,” Henry said.

  “As well,” Charlotte reminded him.

  “Yes, I want to read it as well.”

  “But you are not used to such grim fare,” Hill protested.

  “As though French grammar isn’t grim enough.” Henry’s young face looked mutinous. “We have a right to read it.”

  “Don’t you see?” Charlotte asked. “We are the children of a soldier just as Miss Greenway is. We need to share that with Father.”

  Hill nodded but looked at Charlotte in a different way, as though he realized she was an adult now. Marian found herself smiling at how effectively her pupils had used logic to make an impression on Hill.

  “I will speak to Lord Wyle.”

  As it turned out Hill had a vast knowledge of art and was able to conduct Charlotte through the rooms with as much authority as Marian. She helped Henry analyze horse studies though his motive was more to choose the best possible horse rather than the best possible way to paint it.

  They spent so long over the watercolors and had such a good time they decided to leave the Royal Academy for another day and drove straight home. Wyle was not back and Trumby inquired whether they should start luncheon without him. Marian hesitated but when Frobisher presented himself clearly expecting to be fed, she decided they would have the meal on schedule. Hill nodded his approval but her brave decision had been for naught since Wyle appeared before the first dish reached the table.

  Where’ve you been?” Frobisher asked as Wyle seated himself at the table.

  “Business. Some of us are duty bound.”

  “Disadvantage of being the only son,” Frobisher said as he helped himself to the poached fish.

  Marian had been busy trying to analyze why she had a dislike for Frobisher. It was not him sponging meals from Wyle or his running tame in the house. Such easy manners had endeared many subalterns and younger sons to her during her time in Spain. With a shock she realized it was his slight resemblance to her cousin, Cole Greenway. If looking a bit like Cole could elicit such a negative response, it spoke much of the depth of her hatred for her cousin.

  Seeing someone watching them riding in the park who resembled Cole had set her nerves on edge. She tried to calm herself with the reflection that Wyle could not be so easily put off as her former employers but the threat or even the thought of Cole cast a pall over what should have been a happy day.

  It was Charlotte who brought up the memoirs and made their case for being allowed to read them. Wyle looked at Marian and she nodded.

  “Very well then. Once Hill has expunged my worst errors. But they are not finished yet. And I have no intent to publish then until the war is indeed over.”

  Frobisher looked bleakly up from his empty plate. “Am I in there?”

  Wyle smiled. “Yes but you show to advantage. I suppose you have a burning desire to read them as well?”

  “No, not even remotely. I don’t like to live in the past.”

  Wyle cocked an eyebrow. “But it’s good not to forget the past. Otherwise how could we learn from our mistakes?”

  Frobisher dropped the apple he had selected from the dish. “What mistakes?”

  “I was speaking of my life not yours.”

  Frobisher had been glancing at Charlotte in a way that turned Hill’s mouth into a grim line. Marian was quite sure Wyle would never give her in marriage to a man old enough to be her father but such things happened. If his best friend asked permission to pay his attentions would Wyle allow it? Suddenly she could see why having soldiers run tame in the house was a disadvantage.

  If such a thing came to pass Marian would intervene. That stopped her. As Charlotte’s governess she had absolutely no right to speculate about the girl’s marriage prospects. But as Charlotte’s stepmother she would be in a position of influence with Wyle. She closed her eyes. She should not marry him just to protect his children. Or was that a good enough reason?

  Hill’s apprehension about Charlotte did not go unnoticed by Wyle. If she and Henry had not been invited to dine with the adults, Frobisher would still be thinking of her as a little girl. He hoped his lieutenant would not speak to him about making addresses to her. She was far too young for him and…he did not want her to marry a professional soldier.

  The thought hit him like a cold drenching as they finished the meal. He did not want Charlotte to suffer the uncertainty Marian and her mother had gone through. Perhaps his profession had been part of Louisa’s problem. Now that he looked at the situation from another point of view, he understood Marian’s reluctance. All he had to do was resign his commission. Why was that so hard?

  * * * * *

  Alva appeared in the schoolroom midway through the afternoon and Marian panicked. Fortunately they were finished with formal lessons and Marian had worn a smart dress and no cap. But the children knew nothing of her dual role.

  “Ah, Miss Greenway. Well met. Still helping the children, I see. Ready to go shopping?”

  She felt speechless but hated to tell Alva she had completely forgotten about the expedition. And what about the children? Did she tell them the same lie they had been living. They thought of her still as their governess. How would they feel about her as a prospective mother? Whatever she was going to do would have to be in the next few minutes.

  “Just let me get my reticule. The children both have drawings to do.”

  “Perhaps Charlotte would like to go with us,” Alva suggested.

  There seemed little point in shopping at all, let alone taking Charlotte but she could never say that. For once Wyle was going to have to get out of a tangle on his own. “Yes. It would be a good experience for her.”

  “And I don’t see enough of the girl.”

  “May I go too?” Henry begged. “I’ll be quiet.”

  “I think it would be a good experience for Henry as well,” Charlotte said. “He needs practice being patient and waiting on women. Besides, even though he is not fond of painting, Miss Greenway says he has an eye for color.”

  “If you think so.” Aunt Alva looked dubious about this but Henry volunteered to carry word to the butler as to their purpose.

  Somehow Marian would have to get Charlotte alone and explain about the subterfuge, not the whole thing but enough to get through the day.

  Alva pulled out her guest lists and went over them while they waited
for the carriage to be harnessed. Marian felt her heart flutter when Charlotte looked over her aunt’s shoulder.

  “What is the list for?” Charlotte asked.

  “Did Wyle neglect to tell you? You father’s engagement to Miss Greenway.”

  Marian looked at the girl and discovered delight on her face instead of shock. Charlotte came and hugged her. “I am so happy. This has been my dearest wish. I will go get ready.”

  Now she was in the suds. If she jilted Wyle she would hurt Charlotte and Henry. Jilted Wyle? But they were not even really engaged. She felt the real world and the fairy tale he had knitted together coming undone in her mind. What if they went ahead with the ball so as not to disappoint Alva and Marian just disappeared later with the excuse of having to take care of her ailing mother. Would that be so bad? It would only delay the inevitable but it did not seem as deceitful as letting preparations go forward and then trying to cancel the party.

  She knew what she was doing, trying to hang onto the fairy tale part of it. Why had Cinderella run away from the ball? Because she did not want to be seen in her rags. But Wyle would never condemn her for poverty. Still that figure she had seen on the horse at Hyde Park had the look of Cole about him. And if he had found her, life would not be a fairy tale but hell.

  When Henry reported the carriage was in front of the house, he stayed to entertain his great aunt while Marian went for her pelisse and reticule.

  “This is so exciting,” Charlotte said on the way downstairs.

  “I mean to ask your aunt if you may appear at this ball. Not dance, you understand, since you are not yet out but to be in the receiving line and perhaps sit with her through part of the evening.”

  “Oh, that would be wonderful.”

  “She won’t agree right away, of course but it does no harm to plant the seed.”

  “But she might agree. I shall act so mature today she will feel compelled to agree.”

  Marian laughed. “No, just be your sweet self.”

  They visited two dressmakers, ordering Marian’s dress, a russet silk, at one and some muslin gowns for Charlotte at the second. The girl was determined to order a new riding habit so was measured for that as well and chose a deep green wool. Marian had paid for all her items in cash since she said she had not transferred her accounts to London yet. They put all of Charlotte’s wardrobe on a tab the modiste seemed eager to start for them after the lengthy absence of Louisa from their shop. Henry spent all his time gazing out the window at horses.

  “That lawn would make a nice ball gown for Charlotte someday,” Alva said.

  “I think we should have it done up for her so she has one in case.”

  “I case of what?”

  “In case her father agrees to let her attend your ball.” Marian cast her gaze down toward the reticule. “There is small chance.”

  Charlotte must have realized what Marian was doing and took up her lead. “Yes, even though I am almost seventeen, Papa can be so stuffy about things like that.”

  “Wyle? Stuffy?” Alva pursed her lips. “He has changed. I had lost track of your birthdays. Almost seventeen are you? But for nine months I make it. Still it would be a good experience and in an atmosphere where no one would impose on you. Let me speak to him.”

  * * * * *

  It was late when they returned so Alva invited herself to dinner and invited Miss Greenway as well. Marian was under the worst dread that one of the children would mention she dined there every night. Wyle was surprised and unnerved to encounter his aunt in the drawing room. She seemed a little shocked that they all were to dine together like country bumpkins.

  “If they are to learn good table manners it helps to see them in practice,” Wyle quoted Marian.

  Alva glanced at Wyle lounging back in his chair at the head of the table. “Assuming that is what they will witness. Charlotte, yes, could be allowed to dine with you but Henry is far too young.”

  As though to give proof of this, the anxious Henry overturned his water glass, then let out an oath that he must have heard in the stable. At least that is where Marian hoped he had heard it.

  She sent Wyle a panicked look in the midst of Alva’s shocked gasp. He quite deliberately overturned his wineglass and swore vehemently as he blotted it with his napkin.

  “Well!” Alva said. “I can see where the boy is learning his language at any rate.”

  “Charlotte,” Marian said. “What is the protocol for spilled beverages at table?”

  Charlotte rose. “Napkins will be laid flat over the spill,” she said as she gently folded her napkin and placed it over the wet mark. “So as to cause the minimum disruption to the meal.”

  Marian was likewise covering the wine stain while glaring at Wyle for he looked as though he were about to laugh out loud.

  “Where did you read that?” Alva sputtered. “Minimum disruption? The meal has been ruined.”

  Charlotte turned to her aunt. “But if it were Lord Wellington who dumped his wine, you would cover the mistake for him and laugh. Once the white napkins cover everything, it’s as though it had never happened.”

  “Very good, Charlotte,” Marian said. “Ah, here they come with the second course.”

  Trumby was breathing hard, probably worrying about water marks on the wood.

  The older woman went silent since they were having salmon, which she particularly liked, and nothing more was said about Henry. The poor child sat rigidly as though afraid to move.

  The rest of the meal passed off without incident, both children looking as though they were relieved to escape to the schoolroom and Hill to the library. Alva had not finished yet. When Wyle followed her and Marian into the withdrawing room she got Wyle to approve her plans for the food, the flowers and the musicians. Then she broached the matter of Charlotte attending.

  Wyle looked surprised at her assumption he would not permit it, then Marian caught his eye and he tumbled to her scheme as well.

  “After all the scandal of the divorce, I hesitate to make even the smallest misstep.”

  Marian gazed heavenward.

  “But I shall be with Charlotte all evening,” Alva insisted. “There won’t be the slightest chance anything will go wrong.”

  “Very well, if you think so. I trust your judgment implicitly.”

  “I must be off now. So much to do and so little time. May I drop you somewhere, Miss Greenway?”

  “No, Miss Greenway is going to review their written lessons, then stay for tea. The children will be down directly. Then I will send her home in my carriage.”

  “Very well. Remember your fitting is in two weeks.”

  When the energetic matron had been shown out, Marian realized that even now it was improper for her to be alone with him. She felt the need to make her position clear. “We were nearly in the suds today when Alva revealed the engagement to the children.”

  “But the children love you.”

  “And are not used to being consulted about such things so were not shocked.”

  “So all is well.”

  “Far from it. I cannot be both their governess and your fiancée.”

  “Have you thought any more about my offer.” He leaned his hands on the back of a chair.

  She raised her gaze heavenward again. “I am seeking guidance.”

  He looked at the ceiling. “From whom?”

  She was about to say prayer but there was no need to lie to Wyle. “My mother.”

  “The way you say that I think the cards may be stacked against me.”

  “I did not say I would take her advice.”

  “Then I do have a prayer. I will do anything.”

  “Will you sell out of the army?”

  “Oh, that.” He limped to the window.

  “Why not sell out?”

  “I’m not sure why I’m so reluctant. Perhaps I’ve been a soldier so long I don’t know what else to do. I do not know what else I am. The shame of it is, I’m only good at killing.”

  “Y
ou are a father and though you’ve had little enough practice, you seem to be good at it.” Marian finally took pity on him and sat.

  “Can’t I be both?”

  “That’s like trying to be both dead and alive at the same time. When you go off to war, your life is forfeit.”

  He shook his head. “It’s not as bad as that.”

  “It would be for me.”

  “But you would be safe here with the children.”

  “Yes, how convenient. So you could leave us with a clear conscience.”

  He turned to face her. “Are you telling me that if I don’t sell out you’ll leave?”

  She thought for a long moment. “I very nearly left today when Alva revealed the engagement to Charlotte.”

  Wyle staggered a little. “But you didn’t.”

  “No, because Charlotte covered the disaster with her good wishes.”

  “So will you stay?”

  “But only as their governess.”

  “You would be better able to protect them as my wife.”

  “Protect them from what?”

  He glanced out the window at Alva finally getting into her carriage after haranguing Trumby. “Overzealous relatives.”

  “You don’t think any of them would actually harm the children.”

  “Physically? No but some of them might play at ducks and drakes with their fortunes. Not Aunt Flora, probably not Aunt Alva, though she is extravagant but Isabelle would like to get her hands in the pie. And there is no telling what Isabelle could talk Alva into. That’s where I was today, trying to set up a trust they cannot break. It won’t work unless you marry me.”

  “And as a governess you fear I would not be able to fend them off.”

  “My aunts may like you but Isabelle would find a hundred ways to make you miserable. And if Charlotte makes her come out under the wing of Isabelle, since no one else has a daughter of marriageable age, you would not be needed. They’d send Henry to school.”

  Marian stared at him. “You’re trying to frighten me into accepting you.”

  “I’m trying to make you see reason.” He approached her chair.

  “You’re asking for a marriage of convenience.”