The Observations of a Curious Governess

by Viveka Portman

  I could not refuse him. ‘I should be delighted.’

  The grin Mr Reeves offered was boyish and exceedingly pleased. ‘Excellent. Good day, Miss Swan.’

  He bowed, and before I had time to offer a reciprocal farewell he’d set off, striding in a most purposeful manner back to the house.

  * * *

  I was surprised, and a little disappointed the following morning – a Friday – when Mr Reeves did not appear as an escort for my morning constitutional walk. Thus I took a brief and, I confess, agitated turn about the grounds. You see, the bodily craving I have written so briefly about had begun to plague me with renewed fervour at Mr Reeves’ return. From his abrupt reappearance and seemingly inspired offer to take me to the Vicar, I had assumed he was in need of similar release. Yet on that morning, I found myself doubting my assertion. The evening prior, at dinner with the Stantons, I’d spoken very briefly about Mr Reeves’ return to His Lordship. Lord Stanton had taken my questioning with amused intrigue, querying me most inappropriately in return on the matter of ‘that solicitor, Mr Reeves.’

  I fear I may have given too much of myself, for I blushed furiously and he chuckled and winked wickedly at his wife. I said nothing for the remainder of the evening, lest I give the rascal further ammunition with which to jibe me.

  Sunday morning happened to be the first time I saw Mr Reeves again. I had come to church with Nanny and the eldest two Stantons. His Lordship was busy with preparations for his birthday party, and Her Ladyship was so swollen in her breeding state that she had deemed herself unfit for public display; thus neither Her Ladyship nor His Lordship were present.

  I caught a glimpse of Mr Reeves one row from the back of the church. He inclined his head as I moved past towards the seats assigned for the staff and children of Stanton House. The sermon, just like those preceding it, was terribly, unutterably dull. The vicar was preaching passionately on the evils of pride, quoting on no less than five occasions a single line from Proverbs, 11:2:

  “When pride comes, then comes disgrace, but with humility comes wisdom.”

  I could not agree more with this particular passage, but object – most strenuously – to it being repeated so often within one sermon! Being a woman of education, I know much of the Bible and its passages, yet Vicar Reeves’s style of preaching left much to be desired.

  Young Miss Helen began to cry about halfway though, and Master Alexander began to get rowdy shortly after. With only a quarter of the sermon to go, Nanny Parker decided to remove the children from the church altogether, and was graced with many a disgusted glare from the villagers and their dull-eyed offspring as she did.

  Thus it was that when that terrible sermon ended I was blessedly free to enter into discourse with Mr Reeves, who greeted me immediately after.

  ‘Good morning, Miss Swan,’ he smiled.

  ‘Good morning, Mr Reeves,’ I returned with a smile and bob. I turned and saw the vicar, speaking softly with a member of his parish, and I waited quietly beside Mr Reeves.

  ‘You look very well this day, Miss Swan,’ Mr Reeves said, so as to break our silence. I glanced down at my old cream muslin. It was fine enough, but old, and not at all fashionable. Still, it was terribly nice to be thought pretty and I blushed at the unexpected compliment.

  ‘Why, thank you, Mr Reeves.’

  I desperately wanted to ask why he had returned so soon, and why he wished me to meet his cousin, but I said naught of these things and instead enjoyed our quiet companionability in the warm morning sun.

  ‘Ah, Jonathan. This must be the young lady you wish for me to meet.’

  The voice was well-modulated, and unmistakably owned by the vicar. I turned to face the Reverend. On closer inspection he was not an unattractive man, despite his tiresome sermons. In his black garb, with a wide-brimmed hat upon his dark curls, I could see the family resemblance in the angle of his jaw and aquiline nose.

  ‘Yes, indeed. Frederick, may I introduce Miss Martha Swan, the governess at Stanton House – a lady who seems ever to grow in my estimation.’

  The vicar nodded sagely.

  ‘Miss Swan, may I introduce my cousin, the Reverend Frederick Reeves,’ Jonathan added. I curtsied graciously, and the vicar fell into a surprisingly smooth bow.

  When the formal introductions were done with, the vicar looked at me and smiled gently. ‘Jonathan has spoken of nothing but your virtues, Miss Swan.’

  ‘Indeed?’ I blushed.

  ‘I’ve scarcely known him to be so effusive about anyone.’

  I blushed again, and shared a secret glance with Mr Reeves. His gaze was warm. My belly fluttered. He had been discussing me with his family – something one does if one intends a betrothal. The notion was as thrilling as it was unsettling. I couldn’t understand why he would do so, as we still could never marry.

  The Reverend studied me, and I fanned my cheeks to will my blush away. ‘I trust you find Stanton to your liking, Miss Swan?’ There was no mistaking the concern in his voice. I hesitated but slightly before answering. ‘Why yes, I do. The children are a delight, and so very eager to learn.’

  He nodded, evidently appeased, though his hand was clenched beside his thigh.

  ‘Children are indeed a great blessing from the good Lord,’ the Reverend replied. ‘One day I hope to be so blessed.’ He looked about the congregation, and his smile faltered just for a moment, on seeing a young woman I instantly identified as his wife. She was speaking excitedly in a group of young parishioners.

  ‘Mrs Reeves?’ The Reverend called, and she turned. Her expression sobered instantly upon viewing her husband, and she immediately inclined her head to her audience. The excited chatter ceased, and she moved towards us with careful deliberation.

  ‘I believe you may recognise my wife,’ the Reverend said softly, ‘even if there has been no formal introduction?’

  I inclined my head and bobbed, catching Mrs Reeves’ eye.

  ‘Miss Martha Swan, may I introduce my wife, Mrs Maria Reeves.’

  I inclined my head once more, and took the opportunity to observe her more closely. She appeared to be of similar years with myself, though she dressed in a much more severe manner, as well befitted a vicar’s wife. Her dress, a modest thing of deep, dark green, was cut high at the neck, and her brown locks were mostly covered by a large, and dare I suggest unflattering, cap, decorated by lighter green ribbon.

  ‘Ah, Miss Swan. How wonderful to meet you, finally. Mr Jonathan Reeves has spoken of you ceaselessly,’ she said, taking an arch glance towards Mr Reeves. If I am not mistaken, I believe I saw a shadow of embarrassment rush across Mr Reeves’ face, yet it was gone swiftly.

  ‘Maria …’ the Reverend’s voice was soft and the reproach in it scarcely audible. I coloured again and shared a glance with Mr Reeves, whose cheeks I daresay were colouring also.

  ‘I am delighted to meet you,’ I said gently, trying to think of something more gracious to say. ‘I hear you do admirably in doctoring,’ I said eventually, recalling an occasion Jenny had mentioned some time ago regarding the vicar’s wife assisting with a farmhand’s injury. ‘I daresay, if you were not so busy, you ought try your hand at becoming a physician.’

  Mrs Reeves nodded enthusiastically and laughed a little – but the emotion failed to reach her eyes. ‘Oh I do not think so, but you are kind to say so.’ Her lips curled slightly. ‘I just know we shall become wonderful friends.’

  ‘I should like that,’ I replied, not entirely convinced I should like that at all.

  I’d heard from Jonathan just how lively Mrs Reeves could be, and I didn’t truly want to be the recipient of her type of companionship. I had enough complications in my own existence without adding her to them.

  ‘You have not been at Stanton long then, I gather?’ she asked.

  ‘No, not at all that long, really.’ I responded.

  ‘Well, you are fortunate to be at Stanton House. The grounds are particularly lovely there, and the woodlands! Just perfect for private w
anderings and contemplations, I daresay.’

  My heart gave a stutter, and I betrayed myself with a horrified glance at Jonathan.

  ‘Mrs Reeves,’ he interrupted, ‘I am certain we have detained Miss Swan long enough. May I take leave of you, and escort her back to Stanton?’

  The vicar shared a look with Jonathan that I couldn’t quite decipher. A silent apology for his wife’s loose tongue, perhaps?

  ‘Good day Mrs Reeves, Reverend,’ I said and curtsied.

  ****

  I fear as I turned and began to walk down the lane towards Stanton House, I may have stumbled. My chest felt unbearably tight. I could not extinguish the thought that Mrs Maria Reeves knew about my exchange with Jonathan in the woodlands. But how could such a thing be possible? No one had witnessed us, I was certain – and yet there was a knowing look in Mrs Reeves’ eye that made me want to flinch from it.

  ‘Does she know?’ I asked as soon as we were out of hearing.

  Mr Reeves stiffened in his stride, ‘I do not believe so. Your nervousness must make her suspicious, is all I can suggest.’

  ‘Why should she be suspicious at my nervousness? Any young governess may find a vicar’s wife daunting – especially one so young and pretty, and keenly observant.’

  Mr Reeves sighed, and pulled me into the shade of a large oak that lined the lane, so that we may have a modicum of privacy. He shushed me gently. ‘I have missed you terribly, Miss Swan,’ he said in way of answer. His abrupt confession made my heart stutter again, but this time in a much more pleasurable way.

  ‘I have thought of nothing but you,’ he whispered.

  My sex pulsed betwixt my legs, as if reciprocating the sentiment. ‘I too, have been plagued with memories of you,’ I breathed back, and he kissed me then, hungrily and passionately. He tasted of clove tooth powder and sweet comfits. Eventually, however, it was I who pulled away, for although I wished for nothing more than to replicate those passionate moments, I had to know his intentions.

  ‘Why are you here Jonathan, truly? I had not expected you to return for a month or more.’

  He looked at me with a steady, solemn gaze. ‘I wish to renew my offer of marriage,’ he said, his hands resting on my waist, before he drew me closer, where I could feel the throb of his manhood against my stomach.

  ‘Oh …’ I gasped, completely at a loss as to how to respond.

  ‘Allow me a moment’s monologue, if you please.’

  I smiled at his formality. ‘Of course,’ I replied.

  ‘Since that day in the glade, I cannot bear the thought of being without you. The notion of searching out some other wealthy wife is abhorrent. I wish to marry you, Martha, you only. I could not stand a life without you by my side.’

  His words affected me deeply. It was as if a knife were being stabbed through my breast. ‘Circumstances have not changed, Jonathan …’ I began, trying to speak sense, yet he interrupted insistently.

  ‘I know we have not the money to set up a house of our own, yet.’

  My heart wilted. ‘We never shall,’ I replied. ‘I am generously paid at Stanton, it is true, but I have promised those funds to my sisters, not myself. I could not let them down and take the monies to set up my own home.’

  ‘I shall make enough for both of us,’ he said. His hands gripped my face, drawing my lips to his again. ‘Do you believe me? Will you allow me to save for our future?’

  Tears burned in my eyes, quite involuntarily. ‘Jonathan, to make that kind of money will take you years, and in those years I shall age and …’

  ‘Hush, do not speak so. Do you think me so shallow that I should care that I marry when my bride is older? If we must wait, then I shall wait. I care not for age.’

  Oh how I loved this man! But I could not lead him on in this folly. It would do neither of us good to dwell on thing that could not be.

  ‘Jonathan, how many years do you think it shall take to save up sufficient funds?’ My voice caught with an ill-suppressed sob.

  ‘I know not. If I work hard, mayhap ten years.’

  I shook my head, ‘Ten years is a long time,’ I said, so very softly. ‘Shall you still want me when you have gathered your wealth, surrounded in London by young eligible things – whilst I grow old teaching other men’s children without having any of our own?’

  He stroked my cheek with the back of his hand. ‘I shall want you always.’

  I believe he would. Jonathan has always been true to his word; since childhood, there was no promise he would not honour, and his words near broke my heart.

  Dear reader, I may be many things, but I am not a fool, and I am not mean. I could not allow him to wait ten years for a woman who by then will have faded. It would be unfair, and a waste of his own youth.

  He opened his mouth once more to make an argument, but it was I who interrupted. ‘Hush, let us not speak now, but enjoy the morning. I am not expected back at Stanton for some hours.’

  A horse moved past down the lane, and I pulled him further into the woodlands so that we may not be observed. Sighing, Jonathan pulled his hat from his head and threw it to the earth, where it landed with a light thump. With a gesture epitomising his frustration he ran his hands through his hair.

  ‘But we must speak of this, and you must not tell me to hush. I love you, Martha. I have always loved you, and I cannot stand being apart from you.’

  How I had longed to hear such words from him, but how meaningless they actually were! As much as I reciprocated his intentions and feelings, we had no future – not truly – for nothing had changed.

  ‘Don’t you see, Jonathan, we must be apart. We cannot be man and wife.’

  ‘I disagree. We can be man and wife now, when we are together at Stanton. Devil take the rest of the time.’

  I swallowed audibly, my nether parts heating. Was he proposing that we continue our intimate coital relations when he came to Stanton? I was nearly overwhelmed by the burst of joy the notion provoked within me. Thus I embraced him, relishing the hard length of him against my body. For was this not what I wished? Was this not what my body had craved? Mayhap we could be together, whenever occasion brought him to Stanton.

  ‘Would … would … that not arouse suspicion?’ I asked softly, inhaling the sweet scent of his cologne.

  ‘We shall be careful, very careful. If we continue this way, ten years shall very shortly disappear.’

  It sounded wonderful… Lord forgive this sinner, but it sounded possible. And yet…

  ‘What of your father? Your family? What do they say of this? Have you spoken to them? Certainly your father shall be hoping for a more advantageous match than one to me, ten years away.’

  ‘I have mentioned it, indeed I have. It was why I wished a formal introduction to the vicar.’

  He kissed my cheek, and then my neck. My body arched involuntarily towards him.

  ‘And? What say they?’

  ‘I cannot lie. My father still wishes and hopes that I may find a wealthy lady. To that end, I have promised him that I shall not officiate our engagement until I have the funds to do so.’ His words were necessary, sensible even, yet they still stung.

  ‘So I am to understand we cannot be publically engaged then?’

  ‘No, my love. We can not.’ He spoke softly, drawing me impossibly close. ‘Yet we are, here…’ he kissed my forehead. ‘Here,’ he kissed the swelling mound of my bosom. ‘And here.’ He knelt before me then and kissed the cloth at the juncture of my thighs. I gasped aloud in surprise and delight.

  ‘Oh Jonathan, I do love you, truly I do.’

  He stood then and lifted me into his arms – reminding me once more of how strong he truly was. He walked, as if I weighed little more than leaf, through the woods, to the far side, where it bordered the brook, occasionally looking about to ensure no one could witness our indecency.

  At length, we found ourselves near an old abandoned cottage. To our left, an overgrown lane ran in the direction of the village. Mr Reeves placed me down so
that I may better observe the house.

  ‘I discovered this cottage, upon my last visit,’ he said. ‘I thought it may be perfect for us, when I have the funds to buy it.’

  It was a very pretty building, indeed, very old, but strangely stately in its abandoned state. It had three fine-sized windows on the second floor and two on the first, divided by a sweet arched portico. The windows were dirty and the paint peeled, but it was most charming all the same. The central door was a large double of carved wood.

  ‘But who owns it?’ I asked.

  ‘Stanton,’ he replied. ‘I enquired about it when I was last here, and he was astonished to discover it in his lands. His Lordship’s previous men of business were not as keen-eyed as me.’

  I smiled at him, beamed really. What a charming house. What a charming thing to be contemplating. For us, for our future.

  ‘And can you buy it? Would His Lordship allow it to be excised from his landholding?’

  It was then that Mr Reeves bestowed me with a particularly glorious smile. ‘He has agreed for me to lease-buy it. We negotiated a price, and I may lease it from him until I have paid the sum on which we agreed for its entire purchase, and the fields to the left and right.’

  I threw myself at Mr Reeves then, locking my arms about him, my heart fairly fit to burst. ‘Truly? Oh, but this is wonderful!’

  We kissed a little and then he said, ‘Would you like very much to see inside?’

  There were more questions I had, of course – and doubts too – but now was not the time to discuss them or spoil this thrilling moment.

  ‘I would like that very much indeed,’ I replied, and without further wait he lifted me into his arms and pushed the doors open with his knee.

  The inside was as neglected as the out, and I knew without a doubt there was a great deal of work to be done, and very little of it would be inexpensive.

  Jonathan’s hands were hot upon my body as he strode into what must have been once been a modest, but very fine sitting room.

  ‘I took the liberty of tidying up this room a little, so that we may visit here, when our schedules permit.’