Her Mother's Daughter

by Evie Grace

  ‘Then allow me to move your chair,’ he said, getting up again and straightening his coat tails before moving round behind her.

  ‘This really isn’t necessary,’ she said, flustered by the attention. She was a governess, the teacher, and therefore she should be in control of the situation, yet she felt far from it. She stood up as he placed his hands on the back of the chair. He moved it into the middle of the room.

  ‘I am most grateful,’ she said, trying to maintain an air of calm as she sat down again and he brought his chair alongside hers.

  ‘There is a draught,’ he decided, and he strode across and pulled the door closed. ‘That’s better. I believe we are ready to begin.’ He sat down.

  Silence fell as she wondered what on earth to say. Suddenly, she felt awkward and tongue-tied.

  ‘Vous vous intéressez à la météorologie, monsieur?’ she said.

  ‘Non,’ he said, his eyes sparking with humour. ‘I am interested in you.’

  ‘You are very direct,’ she said in a low voice. ‘Your mama has entrusted me with improving your use of the French language.’

  ‘Vous êtes tres jolie, mademoiselle. Is that right?’ he entreated.

  ‘Oui, monsieur, but this isn’t a suitable topic of conversation.’ She couldn’t help smiling. She knew that he knew very well what he was doing. ‘We should talk about Paris.’

  ‘I’ve heard that the ladies there are very beautiful, but I don’t see how they can be as charming as you.’

  ‘I insist that you apply yourself to your studies immediately,’ Agnes said sternly.

  He looked her straight in the eye. She didn’t flinch.

  ‘Elizabeth said you were very strict.’ She thought she noticed a glimmer of capitulation in his expression.

  He sat back, but in the process turned slightly on his chair so that his feet were perilously close to hers.

  ‘Tell me what you know about Paris,’ she said.

  ‘Les mademoiselles—’ he began. She opened her mouth to protest. He backed down and changed the subject.

  ‘Forget Paris. Let us talk in general,’ she said and she began to ask him questions in French about his pastimes, hunting, his horse and his ambitions for the future.

  ‘Oh, this is so very dull,’ he said eventually, reverting to their mother tongue. ‘I don’t mean you, I mean talking about me.’

  ‘I’m surprised to find that you are already quite proficient in the use of the French language.’ Agnes looked at the clock. ‘That is the end of today’s lesson.’

  ‘I look forward to the next one.’ He stood up and took his leave. ‘Au revoir.’

  He exited the schoolroom just as his sisters returned in high spirits because Mama had let them choose new hats. Agnes let them talk and play with the dog. Their chatter set her nerves on edge. She had grown to love them, but today she was finding their company after their brother’s a little tiresome.

  Felix had reminded her who she was and how she’d been brought up to be a lady. She hadn’t been snatched from her real mother and brought up in splendid isolation to teach flibbertigibbets for the rest of her life. She was aware of what Felix saw in her – a lightly turned ankle, youth and an ability to talk to him as an equal. As for Agnes, she found him vibrant, and interesting.

  He was fascinating, and unlike the other men she had met – apart from Philip, of course, who’d done all he could to help poor Papa, and Oliver, who was a hero, rescuing Arthur from drowning. They were both interesting in their own way, she owned, but neither was as handsome as Felix. He was a real gentleman of wit, humour, and – she wasn’t afraid to admit it – good fortune. What was he worth? She couldn’t imagine, but it had to be more than Philip, Oliver and Papa put together.

  There was one element of the day that had confused her, though.

  She had expected from the way he had spoken before that he was in need of a considerable amount of coaching, but that hadn’t turned out to be the case. Her suspicions that he had engineered the situation so that he could spend time with her were confirmed later when she found out that it was Pell’s half-day off. Felix hadn’t been entirely truthful with her, had he?

  She looked forward to every day with renewed enthusiasm now that Felix was at home. She admired his rebellious streak, his dry wit and the way he dressed in the latest fashions. He was mostly respectful to his mother, and treated his sisters better under Agnes’s civilising influence.

  She was invited to dine with the Faradays the day after Felix had come to the schoolroom to speak French. Everyone was gay at dinner and afterwards they retired to the drawing room, where Elizabeth called George to the piano to accompany her. Charlotte sat with her mama and quietly discussed a book they had both read, while Sir Richard sat drinking brandy and stroking his dog’s ears. Sunny the lapdog was sleeping on a cushion on one of the armchairs.

  Agnes was about to take a seat near the piano so she could chaperone Elizabeth. She had decided she would intervene if the distance between singer and piano player closed to a less than a respectable distance. The family seemed very relaxed about social protocol, but Agnes felt responsible and couldn’t stand by. Before she could sit down, though, Felix caught her very lightly by the hand.

  She glanced at him fiercely. They were in company.

  ‘Oh, I wish you wouldn’t look at me like that,’ he said, smiling. ‘Your expression would turn a flame to ice in an instant. Please, I only wanted to attract your attention while everyone listens to the entertainment.’ He continued, breathless. ‘I wanted to ask you if we could continue our lessons in French conversation. I am planning to travel to Paris and I have all but forgotten what I learned the other day.’ He lowered his voice until she could barely hear him. ‘You have this effect on me …’

  ‘I don’t know how,’ she stammered. ‘I have done nothing.’ She searched her conscience and found no stain or blemish. She hadn’t encouraged him in any way. ‘I’m engaged here to teach your sisters. I’m willing to continue our lessons, but only in their presence.’

  ‘I wish to be alone with you. I’m sure I would make much better progress.’ He raised his eyebrows in a silent plea.

  ‘No, Master Faraday.’ She was aware that Pell was watching her as he moved around the room, serving more brandy to the master, who was beginning to remind her of her uncle with his red face and purple nose. ‘I will not compromise my position or my reputation.’

  ‘You are turning me down, Miss Linnet.’

  She stared at him, feeling like a rabbit must, caught in the sight of his gun. This wasn’t merely about French conversation, was it?

  ‘We will discuss it tomorrow,’ she said rather sharply. ‘Come to the schoolroom at ten o’clock.’ Charlotte and Elizabeth would be there. It would be perfectly safe. She pressed her hands together to control the trembling in her fingers.

  ‘I will not give up my pursuit,’ he said quietly.

  ‘I shall pretend that I didn’t hear that comment and we will carry on as before.’

  ‘As if nothing has happened?’ he said with sarcasm. ‘Miss Linnet—’

  She cut him off with a curt nod, turned away and walked up to the piano.

  ‘Miss Linnet,’ Elizabeth called. ‘Come and sing with us.’

  ‘Oh no,’ she said.

  ‘But our voices blend so harmoniously. George kindly said so when he heard us practising the other day.’

  ‘You are a natural singer, Miss Linnet,’ George said. ‘You have perfect pitch, as does Miss Elizabeth.’

  ‘Indulge us,’ Felix said.

  ‘Sing, Miss Linnet,’ Sir Richard bellowed from his chair.

  Reluctantly, she took her place alongside Elizabeth, and they sang. She noticed how Felix stood leaning against the wall, frowning darkly. He was sulky, spoiled and bad-tempered, she decided. He reminded her of the young Agnes Berry-Clay who had – to her shame – exhibited a similar sense of entitlement.

  She was attracted to him, of that she was certain, but at that moment
she wasn’t sure that she liked him. She wished he had remained at Oxford for the vacation, not come to Roper House to disturb her peace of mind.

  He didn’t join her and her pupils in the schoolroom the following morning, having been tempted outside by the promise of good weather for riding, but he and George walked straight into the schoolroom unannounced that afternoon.

  ‘Your sisters are attending to their studies,’ she said reprovingly.

  ‘Oh, it is all so dull. Come out with us – the air will put the colour back in your cheeks.’

  Agnes glanced at Elizabeth – she had no need of more colour. George’s presence had brought a flush of scarlet to her face.

  ‘We have much to do. Please leave, gentlemen,’ Agnes said.

  Felix walked across to Charlotte’s desk. He picked up the book she was reading.

  ‘Poetry?’ he said, looking at the gold lettering on the spine. ‘What piffle and poppycock is this?’ He opened it to a page.

  George looked over his shoulder. ‘It’s Shelley.’

  ‘“To a Skylark”,’ Felix read. He recited the poem, his voice lingering as he reached, ‘Like a rose embower’d/In its own green leaves,/By warm winds deflower’d …’

  ‘Stop there,’ Agnes ordered. ‘Please desist.’ She wouldn’t have chosen this poem for her charges. It wasn’t suitable. She had led a sheltered life, but she knew enough to understand that the poetry was inflammatory, especially the way Felix was reciting it – with passion. She blushed with embarrassment. He stopped but held her gaze, a wicked glint in his eye. What should she do? Remonstrate and make too much of it? Or let it go?

  Keeping his eyes on her, he put the book down.

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘About that French lesson,’ he said.

  ‘I have half an hour while Charlotte and Elizabeth complete the task I’ve set. If you and George would like to sit and make conversation, now is convenient.’

  He opened his mouth as if he was about to protest, but she gave him a look, one she’d perfected in her role as governess, and he seemed to change his mind.

  ‘What do you think, George?’ he said, turning to his friend.

  ‘I think we should be grateful to Miss Linnet for her offer,’ he said, beaming.

  ‘In that case, we will take you up on it,’ Felix said, and he went off to find an extra chair.

  Agnes sat down with him and George while Charlotte and Elizabeth continued studying at their desks.

  ‘Merci beaucoup pour—-’ George began.

  ‘Really?’ Felix interrupted, raising one eyebrow. ‘I thought we were going to confirm our plans for our day out in town.’

  ‘En Français, s’il vous plaît,’ Agnes said sharply. She would have discipline in her schoolroom, whoever was in attendance, but Felix … he had this way with him. She tried to suppress her amusement at his antics, but she couldn’t stop herself smiling. Their eyes connected and he smiled back as though he knew exactly what she was thinking.

  Chapter Sixteen

  An Awkward Encounter

  Evie was bubbling with excitement when she brought Agnes’s breakfast tray to her room one morning a few days later.

  ‘Good morning, Miss Linnet.’

  ‘Same to you, Evie.’

  ‘It’s a beautiful day.’ The maid opened the curtains, letting in a stream of light. ‘A letter came for me yesterday – I wonder if you can read it to me. I can only make out my mother’s mark at the bottom of the page.’

  Agnes slipped out of bed.

  ‘Pass it to me,’ she said, perching on the edge of the mattress.

  Evie took a crumpled letter out of her pocket. Agnes opened it up. It was written in a tidy hand, down the page and back up the other way to make best use of the space.

  ‘“Dear Evie,”’ Agnes read. ‘“We are well and very happy to hear your news.”’ There followed a long story about how Evie’s favourite cow had had her calf, and broken into the garden. ‘What a lovely letter.’

  ‘It is indeed. I shall keep it under my pillow to help me dream of home every night.’ Evie changed the subject as Agnes gave it back to her. ‘Miss Linnet, I beg you to be more careful in your dealings with Master Faraday.’

  ‘What is it to you?’ Agnes said rudely, forgetting that she wasn’t a child talking to one of the maids at Windmarsh Court. Evie frowned.

  ‘I thought we were friends. I thought I could speak openly to you.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Evie. You are the only friend that I have.’

  ‘You ’ave no idea about friendship,’ the maid exclaimed. ‘You’re clever with letters, yet you’re careless with people. You speak before you think.’

  ‘Please accept my apology …’ Agnes’s voice trembled. ‘I’m begging you.’

  ‘I’m not sure that I should associate with you in future. Mrs Cox has forbidden us to speak to you because she is worried about a scandal. It has bin noticed that you are spending time with Master Faraday.’

  ‘Only because he wishes to spend time in the company of his sisters.’ Agnes felt a pang of regret as she got up to make her tea. ‘He and George are going to Paris later in the summer and then they’ll return to Oxford. You can’t blame him for wanting to make the most of his time here. It is a little distracting – for Elizabeth in particular.’

  ‘There seems to be some kind of attraction, a flirtation between you and Master Faraday, though. He isn’t that special – I empty his piss pot and the turds float on the top just the same as everyone else’s.’

  Agnes shrank back at Evie’s coarse language.

  ‘It is just gossip.’ Her palms grew damp as she began to pour hot water from the teapot on to the pinch of leaves in the bottom of her cup. She was lying to herself. ‘I’d never put my reputation at risk. You know as well as I do – as governess and moral guide – that I have to be beyond reproach. These rumours, observations, whatever they are, are scurrilous and untrue.’ She was angry at the way she had laid herself open to them. She would have to be far more careful in her dealings with Felix in future. ‘I have no feelings for him, except for the normal regard one has for a member of one’s employer’s family.’

  ‘I’ll take your word for it.’ Evie put her arm through Agnes’s. ‘Let’s not say any more about it. Let me read your leaves in return for you reading my letter to me.’

  ‘I don’t believe in them – it isn’t scientific.’

  ‘My mother swears by it. She doesn’t leave the house without checking the leaves first.’ Evie stripped the bed while Agnes finished her tea.

  ‘What do the leaves say, then?’ Agnes said, handing her the cup.

  ‘It’s a little strange – my eyes make out the shape of a bat in the bottom.’

  ‘And what is that supposed to mean?’

  ‘It says you are going on a journey in the future. A short distance – it was a small bat.’

  ‘Well, that’s a surprise,’ Agnes said with sarcasm. ‘That will be our day out into town. Felix, George and the young ladies are going to Canterbury today.’

  ‘That’s why they’re all up and about so early,’ Evie said, smiling.

  ‘What are your plans?’ Agnes asked.

  ‘The usual. Cleaning, fetching and carrying.’

  ‘I don’t mean your plans for today. I mean, your dreams? What are your hopes for the future?’

  ‘I don’t think it’s my place to ’ave them,’ Evie said.

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘I’m a maid and will remain one until I marry or retire, but if I had a choice, I would like to advance my position.’

  ‘You mean be raised to housekeeper.’

  ‘Oh, I should like that. But then I should also like to marry and ’ave children. Wouldn’t you?’

  ‘Yes, of course. One day …’

  ‘It must be almost time for you to leave. The carriage is waiting.’

  They could have walked, but Elizabeth had thought that they might have shopping to bring back with them. Agnes recalled the last time
she had visited the town with Nanny, and how Oliver had rescued the little boy, Arthur, from the river. Her anticipation of the day trip was rather clouded by her fear of running into someone she knew. Reason told her not to worry – Canterbury was a big place and they would be keeping to the main streets.

  ‘You aren’t listening.’ Evie snapped her fingers. ‘You are in a trance, Agnes.’

  ‘You’re right. I’d better hurry.’ She dressed, put on her coat and collected her outdoor shoes from under the bed. She put on her shoes and went downstairs and out to the front of the house, where Pell opened the door for her.

  ‘Good day,’ he said, his voice like acid, etching another layer of guilt into her conscience.

  She thanked him and stepped outside into the sunshine. Was Pell still pursuing his quest to find out her true identity? She felt sick with nerves. Was this how it was going to be? Was she always going to be on edge?

  ‘Make haste, Miss Linnet,’ Felix called from where he stood beside the carriage.

  ‘Where are Charlotte and Elizabeth?’ she said, telling herself to calm down.

  ‘They are here, ready to go. Elizabeth says she has been up and dressed for hours.’ He smiled and held out his arm as Agnes approached. She took it and he helped her up into the carriage, his other hand somehow finding her waist and lingering there much longer than was necessary. Her pulse thrilled at the contact. What did it mean? What was he trying to tell her?

  Elizabeth sat next to George, which necessitated Felix sitting next to her – she felt uneasy when the horses set off, jolting the coach. She gripped the seat to prevent herself being rolled against him by the movement.

  She felt very differently about him than she had about Philip. When he was in the same room, she felt that she was walking on air. When he was away from her, she thought of him fondly every second of every passing hour. The occasions when the family didn’t invite her to dine with them caused her great grief. Sitting in solitary confinement in her room, knowing that Felix was nearby, was torture.

  ‘What shall we see in Canterbury?’ Charlotte said.

  ‘There is the cathedral,’ Agnes said, looking out of the window at the orchards and hop gardens to avoid Felix’s gaze.