The Poor Governess

by Barbara Cartland

She glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece and saw that she had sat so long at the table thinking about the Marquis and the ecstasy he had aroused in her that it was later than she expected.

  She was sure that Lord Magor would soon come to her, confident that this time he would have his way.

  She thought how terrified Jane would be if she was here now and she knew that whatever Lord Magor did to her, although Lara was not quite certain what it would be, the result would be that Jane would collapse completely and be ill perhaps for months.

  ‘No man could be more wicked than to torture anyone so helpless and weak as Jane,’ she told herself.

  She remembered the question that Georgina had asked earlier in the day and knew that the child had been absolutely right and it was something that she was now prepared to avenge.

  She sat down at the table, put the pistol in her lap aware as she did so that, although she had not thought of it before, she was wearing the pretty blue evening gown that was Jane’s.

  Somehow tonight it had seemed suitable that, when she had watched the house party going down to dinner, she should wear her best, just as they were wearing theirs.

  It was a childish idea, but, when Lara looked at herself in the mirror, she had known that Jane’s gown, which was cut quite low at the neck, was exceedingly becoming.

  It was made only of a cheap material, but in a very pretty shade of blue and was trimmed with chiffon, which encircled the décolletage to frame Lara’s white shoulders and long neck.

  It suddenly struck her that Lord Magor might think that she had put on her best gown to receive him and she thought in that case he would have an extremely unpleasant surprise.

  The minutes seemed to pass slowly, but Lara had in fact only waited for a little over a quarter-of-an-hour when she heard footsteps coming up the stairs.

  She was aware that Lord Magor was deliberately walking lightly so as not to be heard.

  She wondered if he was smiling in the way she detested, a smile of triumph because he reckoned that she had no defences left and whatever feeble resistance she might put up, he would have his way.

  The door opened and he stood for a moment looking at her as she sat at the table, her head held high, the light glinting on her hair, making it a halo of flame.

  For a moment there was silence.

  Then Lord Magor smiled.

  “Good evening!” he said. “I imagine that you were expecting me.

  “I was, my Lord. I could not believe that anybody else in the house would be likely to remove the keys from both these doors.”

  “Without them I could not come in,” Lord Magor pointed out, entering the room and shutting the door behind him. “And now, my lovely little disciplinarian, there is no need to play games and I will prove to you that the lessons I shall teach you will be very enjoyable.”

  “Suppose I ask you as a gentleman to leave me alone?” Lara suggested.

  “At the moment I am not a gentleman,” Lord Magor replied, “but a man who finds you very alluring with your red hair and your white skin which excites me more than I can tell you in words.”

  He drew a little nearer as he added,

  “But words are unnecessary between us and it is much easier for me to tell you what I feel and what I will make you feel when we are close to each other.”

  He took another step nearer and Lara rose to her feet the pistol in her hand.

  She moved away from the table saying as she did so,

  “That is far enough, my Lord! And now let me tell you what I think of you!”

  She saw the astonishment in Lord Magor’s eyes as he saw the pistol and she went on,

  “I despise and detest you! I would rather be touched by the lowest reptile that crawls than by you. I intend to make sure that you will never again molest helpless young Governesses who cannot defend themselves as I am able to do.”

  Because she was very angry she almost spat the words at him and there was first of all a glint of anger in Lord Magor’s eyes.

  Then he laughed.

  “Bravely spoken!” he said. “But you are not fool enough to jeopardise your position here or in any other house by shooting me.”

  He paused as if he was weighing up his words before he uttered them.

  Then he carried on,

  “If you fire that ridiculous weapon you have in your hand, you know as well as I do that no one would ever employ you again. Then, my pretty one, you would starve, unless I looked after you – which I am quite prepared to do.”

  Lara was pointing the gun at him with a steady hand and he did not move as he said almost coaxingly,

  “Stop playing the Amazon and let me tell you what I have in mind, a comfortable little house in St. John’s Wood, a horse and carriage of your own, and jewels. I think emeralds would do to make your skin look even whiter than it does at the moment.”

  It seemed to Lara there was a fire in his eyes and in his voice as he said,

  “Let me touch it and I promise you that you shall have anything, not just one emerald, but a necklace of them.”

  “I would rather starve!” Lara exclaimed.

  “Nonsense!” Lord Magor replied. “I will give you a life that is more enjoyable than anything you have ever imagined.”

  He stepped forward as he spoke.

  “Keep away!” Lara called out warningly.

  “I want to hold you in my arms,” Lord Magor answered.

  He came nearer still.

  It was then Lara fired at him.

  She had meant to aim at his arm, not his heart, but, as she pulled the trigger, she felt the duelling pistol kick upwards.

  In the explosion that followed which seemed to echo and re-echo round the walls, she thought for a moment that she had missed him.

  Then slowly, so slowly that it was somehow more frightening than if it had happened quickly, Lord Magor’s hands clutched at his chest, then he collapsed and fell backwards onto the carpet.

  For a second Lara could not move.

  She could only stand staring at the fallen man.

  She saw that his face was bloodless and his eyes were closed.

  It was then what she had done swept over her with a feeling of utmost horror.

  She had killed him instead of, as she had intended, wounding him in the arm and the repercussions of her act would be terrible.

  She felt as if her brain was filled with sawdust.

  She was deaf from the sound of the explosion and it was hard to breathe, but she knew that, as Lord Magor was dead, the Police would have to be brought in and nothing could be more disastrous when the Prince of Wales was in the house.

  There had been scandals about him before and the newspapers had flayed him for his extravagance, for his friends and for his way of life, which had incurred the displeasure of the Queen and a great number of her subjects as well.

  It flashed through Lara’s mind now that the Marquis would be censured for allowing anything so disgraceful as a murder to happen at The Priory, especially when the Prince was a guest.

  Because she loved him she knew that she would do anything at this moment to put back the clock and have Lord Magor standing on his feet even if, as he had intended, he touched her.

  ‘I should not have stayed here when I found that the keys were missing,’ she thought.

  But it was too late!

  Lord Magor was lying dead at her feet and the Marquis would never forgive her.

  Moreover he would hate to have it known that his closest friend was attempting to seduce a woman he employed to teach his niece. The publicity would infuriate him.

  It all seemed to flash through Lara’s mind like a streak of lightning.

  She realised that she must somehow save the Marquis from the consequences of her crime, but how to do so she had no idea.

  She put the pistol down on the table then, walking round the body of Lord Magor, she reached the door.

  It was then that she knew there was only one person who could help her – one person w
ho perhaps by some miracle might prevent the consequences of her crime from being as catastrophic as she now thought that they must be.

  Without stopping, without even thinking of what she should say or how she should explain her action, she knew that she must find the Marquis and ask for his help.

  Without looking back, she went down the stairs, reached the next floor, then ran as swiftly as she could along the corridor that stretched almost the whole length of the building.

  As she reached the Marquis’s room, because she had run so fast she stopped for a moment to catch her breath.

  Her heart was beating so wildly that she felt it might burst from her breast, her lips were dry and her hands were trembling.

  Nevertheless she opened the door and found herself in a small hall like the one where the Marquis had kissed her.

  There was a low light burning which showed her two doors at either side of it.

  Without thinking, without even knocking, she opened the nearest one and, as the light from where she was standing percolated a little way into the room, she could see very faintly the posts of a great bed.

  Then as she stood indecisive, feeling as if her voice had died in her throat, she heard the Marquis ask,

  “Who is it? What do you want?”

  Because she was so glad he was there she moved swiftly towards him.

  She was silhouetted against the light and he was therefore able to recognise her.

  As she reached the side of the bed, he exclaimed and she could hear the incredulous note in his voice,

  “Miss Wade!”

  For a moment Lara thought she could not speak.

  Then in a voice that seemed to come from a long, long way away she stammered,

  “I-I am – sorry, t-terribly – terribly sorry, but I have sh-shot Lord – Magor – and he is – dead!”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  There was what seemed to be a long silence, while, aware that Lara was trembling, the Marquis realised that she was speaking the truth.

  He then said quietly and calmly,

  “Wait outside the door, I will not be a minute.”

  Feeling almost as if her legs would not carry her, Lara turned towards the door and walked unsteadily into the small hall.

  She stood with her back to the Marquis’s room and, because the door was ajar, she could hear him moving about and saw he had lit a candle.

  She waited, feeling as if she was sinking lower and lower into the ground and that when she reached the bottom of some unfathomable pit, she would die.

  It was what she wanted to do, knowing that in killing Lord Magor she had hurt the Marquis irretrievably, for his friend’s murder – it was nothing else – would have serious repercussions that would be known to everyone in the country.

  ‘How could I have been so foolish?’ she asked herself again and again.

  She wished that she had been brave enough to tell the Marquis what Lord Magor was like and how he had terrified Jane and then transferred his desires to herself.

  But even if he was wicked, that was no excuse for her creating a scandal when the Prince of Wales was staying in the house.

  It seemed to Lara at that moment as if she was the guilty one and that if anyone should be punished it was she.

  She could only have stood in the small, dimly lit hall for perhaps two or three minutes, but it seemed to her, as if to a drowning man, that all the past flashed before her eyes and accused her of being a criminal.

  Then the Marquis joined her.

  She saw that he was fully dressed, except that instead of a collar and tie there was a scarf round his neck, which gave him a somewhat raffish look.

  Without speaking, he opened the outer door and they started to walk down the corridor side by side.

  The only light was from the candles spluttering low in the sconces.

  Although some parts of The Priory had the new much-vaunted electricity and some gas lighting, in the principal rooms and in the main corridors the Marquis kept to the traditional candles.

  These stood in the sconces which, Lara had been told, had been made for the house in the reign of Charles II by one of the great silversmiths of the time.

  All she was aware of now was that the corridor seemed dim and she felt as if she was walking in a fog of her own making and she would never know the light of happiness again.

  They passed the door where she had hidden earlier in the evening and where the Marquis had kissed her, thinking her to be Lady Brooke.

  For one moment Lara felt a little surge of remembrance creep into her breast as she recalled the wonder and glory of his lips, the way he had carried her into the sky and they seemed to touch the Divine.

  But she told herself bitterly that she had betrayed her love and was now unworthy of the rapture that she had known for one brief moment but which could never be hers again.

  Only as they passed the main staircase and reached the passage that led to the West wing, did the Marquis say,

  “Where is Lord Magor?”

  “In the – schoolroom,” Lara managed to stutter.

  “Why was he there?”

  There was a pause before Lara answered,

  “He – came to – see me.”

  “You were waiting for him?”

  The question was sharp and she thought that the Marquis’s voice was contemptuous.

  She was looking ahead, but she thought that he glanced at her and was aware she was wearing evening dress.

  It was an added horror to what she was feeling to know that he was suspecting her of deliberately inviting Lord Magor’s attentions. Because she could not bear him to think such a thing, she answered quickly,

  “I was – waiting because he had – removed the key from the door of the – schoolroom and from my – bedroom.”

  The Marquis stopped and turned to look at her searchingly.

  “Is this true?”

  “He tried to get in – last night,” Lara replied, “but I had locked the door. He – had to go – away.”

  She saw the Marquis’s lips tighten before he said,

  “So tonight you waited with the intention to shoot him?”

  “Yes!”

  There was a little pause before he asked,

  “With one of my guns?”

  It was difficult for Lara to reply and she realised that it would have to lead to other explanations. There was nothing she could do but answer,

  “No – I had a – duelling pistol, which – belonged to my father.”

  “You brought it here with you when you arrived to teach Georgina? Why?”

  She felt that he was being clever in extracting from her the whole story so quickly and she wanted to say that instead of talking they should go upstairs and find Lord Magor.

  Yet, as if he held her prisoner and she was in the dock, she could only give him the answer he was waiting for.

  In a low voice so that he could hardly hear, she said,

  “I brought the pistol with me – because I knew what – Lord Magor was – like.”

  “How did you know that?” the Marquis asked.

  Then before she could reply, he added,

  “I presume you must have heard of him from Miss Cooper.”

  “Yes – and she was – terrified of him. That was why I – took her place, so that she could have a – holiday.”

  “You mean she was not really ill?”

  “No – only frightened to the point where I – thought she might have a – nervous breakdown.”

  The Marquis drew in his breath and she knew that he was angry, very angry.

  He did not say anything, but merely walked on and there was nothing she could do but walk after him until they reached the staircase that led up to the next floor.

  He climbed it ahead of her and, as he reached first the landing and then the door that led into the schoolroom, Lara found herself praying that somehow by some miracle Lord Magor would have disappeared.

  But when she looked into the room, she could se
e his body lying where she had left it and knew that her prayers had failed and her last hope had gone.

  It was then that she heard a cry from Georgina’s room.

  Without waiting and, as the Marquis stopped to bend over the body of the dead man, she ran towards Georgina’s bedroom door and opened it.

  “Miss Wade! Miss Wade!” Georgina was calling as she entered.

  She saw the child was sitting up in bed. Quickly Lara closed the door behind her and groped her way to the bedside, feeling for the matches saying as she did so,

  “It’s all right, darling, I am here!”

  “I heard a big bang,” Georgina said. “I thought perhaps they were shooting the poor baby foxes.”

  With difficulty because her fingers were trembling so much, Lara lit a candle and then she sat down on the side of the mattress facing Georgina.

  “I think you must have been dreaming,” she said. “It’s far too dark outside for the keepers to shoot anything at this time of night.”

  “I called and called, but you did not come,” Georgina reproached her.

  “I am sorry, dearest, I am sorry!” Lara answered. “But I did – not hear you.”

  “I was frightened!”

  “There is nothing to frighten you now I am here.”

  “No, not now,” Georgina said. “But it’s really horrid being frightened in the dark.”

  “Yes, I know,” Lara answered. “So I am going to teach you a prayer my mother taught me when I was younger than you and which I want you to say if ever again you are frightened in the night.”

  “Is it a magic prayer?”

  “I have always found it – very magic,” Lara answered her.

  The child cuddled down against the pillow and Lara pulled the sheet up to her chin.

  Then she said very softly the prayer that was so much a part of her childhood that she felt almost as if she could hear her mother’s voice saying it to her,

  “Lighten our darkness we beseech Thee, O Lord, and by Thy great mercy defend us from all perils and dangers of this night. For the love of Thy only Son, our Saviour, Jesus Christ. Amen.”

  By the time she had finished Georgina’s eyes were closing and then, as Lara waited, she said drowsily,

  “That is – magic and I shall – always say it – ”