A fact that struck him as being rather exceptional. Had he bellowed at any of the other female staff members as he had at Miss Overton, they would have sulked, in the case of Cook—wept, in the case of the tweeny—or cowered, in the case of the maid—the next handful of times he met them.
Grateful anew for her calm, sensible, self-possessed nature, he said, ‘Once again, I fear I owe you an apology. I’m afraid last night that I wasn’t...quite myself. In my distress, I lashed out at you, which was unjust and unfair. I hope you will forgive me.’
For several heartbeats, she remained silent, studying him, as if she hoped he might volunteer something more. And though she might deserve to hear more, he couldn’t bring himself to explain about Drew.
Finally, she nodded. ‘Apology accepted. I’m just glad that you realise that when I came into the library to wait for you, I didn’t mean to pry.’
‘Shall we move on, then?’ he asked, relieved—and grateful to her for her graciousness in making the difficult business of that apology easier. ‘You mentioned there was something you wished to ask me about?’
‘Yes, sir. I wondered if you might know where the books and supplies that were once in the schoolroom might have been stored. You may have noticed when you visited the nursery yesterday that the room contains little furniture and nothing in the way of school supplies. The girls should have slates on which to write and do sums, story books to practise their reading and I should like books to read to them, as well. As you can imagine, Mrs Wallace has been of no help whatsoever in locating these materials.’
As he watched her speak, he realised he hadn’t really ever looked at Miss Overton. Though she had none of the fragile beauty that had made every man who saw his wife want to shelter and protect Lydia, there was something subtly attractive about the governess’s energetic, no-nonsense manner. Her hair, what of it he could see that wasn’t tucked up under a cap, was a nondescript brown, her figure taller than average but well formed, her face lively and her eyes positively glowing with intelligence and purpose. A dervish, people might have termed her back in India. Single-minded as a monk and whirling about his house.
She’d certainly stirred things up in his life.
‘I’m not surprised that Mrs Wallace was unhelpful. Though to be fair, the nursery has been empty since well before she arrived. Actually, I didn’t notice much about the schoolroom, my mind being occupied by the matter of blankets. I don’t recall seeing any books or toys on the shelves, though, and the old table and the student desks that used to be in there have gone missing. I can’t imagine that my mother would have discarded them. I expect all of it is stored in the attics somewhere.’
She sighed. ‘But you don’t know where.’
‘No.’
‘I suppose I shall have to organise an expedition. Perhaps make it into a sort of treasure hunt for the girls. That is—the attic is safe for them to wander around in, isn’t it? It’s floored, with a few windows to offer some light and adequate ventilation?’
‘I believe so. I haven’t been up there since I was a boy.’
‘Thank you, sir. I suppose I should just poke around and see what I discover. I’ll make a list of anything we can’t locate that I believe is necessary for the schoolroom. A good day to you, Colonel.’
She curtsied again, obviously intending to leave. ‘One more thing, if you please, Miss Overton,’ he said, raising a hand to stay her.
About to turn to the door, she looked over her shoulder. ‘Yes, sir?’
‘I... I will not be going out around the estate all day today. The squire and some of the other landowners are dropping by later in the afternoon to discuss who among us might stand as a representative for the next Parliament. So... I will be available in the early afternoon, if you wish to bring the girls in to see me.’
Surprise, gratification—and then something he couldn’t quite identify, something that looked almost like remorse, passed over her face. ‘Thank you for reconsidering, sir. It will be wonderful for the girls.’
He smiled wryly. ‘Much as it pains me to admit it—again—you were right. I should let my wards get to know me better, so they will feel more at home in this unfamiliar land. Less abandoned and alone. I can’t make it up to them for their losing their father, but I can do a better job of trying to make them feel secure and welcome.’
For a moment she hesitated. Then, as if resolved to speak whether it was wise or not, she said, ‘And I owe you an apology, this time a sincere one. Until last night, I had no idea you had lost a child. I won’t pretend to comprehend how devastating that must be, but I do assure you, I wouldn’t have been quite so...strident about insisting you involve yourself in the girls’ lives had I known. I am sorry for being so belligerent! I only ask that you do what you can, as much as you feel you can bear, to help them adjust to their loss of home and father.’
He appreciated her admission, her offer and the delicate phrasing of her apology that did not require him to discuss his loss. ‘Understood. My discomfort doesn’t matter. Their comfort does. With your help, I hope to give them the support my cousin would expect me to provide.’
‘If there is anything I can do to make dealing with them easier for you, please tell me. And if my...my impetuous and managing nature leads me into a course of action with which you are not comfortable, you have my permission to stop me.’
He had to smile. ‘A handsome concession. We will do our best, then, to work together for their good.’
‘Yes, sir. I would like that.’
‘Until this afternoon, then.’
‘Until this afternoon.’ With another curtsy, she walked out, leaving him gazing thoughtfully after her.
Had he truly just pledged himself to work closely with Miss Overton? He wasn’t sure how wise that might prove.
He’d shut himself off from more than just his emotions after the deaths of his wife and son. Grieving, angry, guilty, anguished, he’d closed out every pleasure. Including the pleasure of feminine company.
He couldn’t deny, much as he’d deliberately tried not to notice, that Miss Overton...stirred something within him that he’d repressed for a long time. Forcing himself to be more open with his cousin’s children was necessary, whatever the pain. They were his wards, his legal responsibility, and duty required that he do everything possible to make life easier for them.
Exposing himself to the allure of feminine company was not required. After the way his marriage to Lydia had ended, he didn’t think he would ever risk his heart again. But presented with temptation, his body might not be so amenable to control.
He didn’t see how he could avoid working with the governess—but he must take care to maintain his distance and remember she was an employee. A dependent female member of his household he had a duty to support and protect. And nothing more.
* * *
Don’t think about Drew, think about Robert, Hugh told himself that afternoon as he returned to his library to await a visit from his wards. If he kept his cousin’s face and memory in mind and concentrated on what Robert would have wanted for his girls, meeting with them might be easier.
Thank heaven they were girls! The skills they needed to master and duties they needed to be able to perform as adults would be taught to them by their governess or, once he’d found the right candidate, the genteel lady who would take over their care. He wouldn’t be required to do much more than visit with them. Whereas if they had been male...having to teach them to ride, shoot, hunt and manage an estate, all things he would have done for Drew, would have been agonising.
He heard Miss Overton’s soft tones and the muffled tramp of approaching footsteps in the hallway. He tensed, clenching his jaw and armouring himself for the interview to come.
There was a rap at the door, followed by Miss Overton’s voice. ‘Is it convenient for us to see you now, Colonel?’
You can do this. You wil
l do this.
Taking a deep breath, he said, ‘Yes. Please come in, ladies.’
He rose as they entered, the girls and Miss Overton offering him curtsies, to which he responded with a bow. Though he sucked in a breath as the inevitable wave of grief and pain washed through him, he made himself look at them.
In his shock upon meeting the children ten days ago, he hadn’t noticed much about how they were dressed, but he noted now that they wore sturdy deep blue wool spencers over their pale pastel embroidered—and obviously very lightweight—cotton frocks.
He also noted that the smaller girl—Sophie, he remembered—was clutching her sister’s arm, her expression apprehensive. When he looked at her and smiled, she hurriedly looked away and sidled closer to her sister.
Though her expression was nearly as wary as Sophie’s, at a nod from their governess, Elizabeth said, ‘Thank you, Colonel, for letting Miss Overton buy us new clothes. We are ever so much warmer now, aren’t we, Sophie?’
Not daring to look at him, Sophie bobbed her lowered head.
A pang of compassion went through him. The girls were surely grieving—but they were obviously also frightened. He couldn’t do much to help them with the first emotion, but he could certainly do something about the latter.
So, moving out from behind his big desk, where he’d intended to remain for this short first visit, he walked over to the wing chair by the hearth. ‘Won’t you ladies have a seat?’ he said, gesturing to the sofa. ‘I’m glad to hear you are more comfortable. I remember your papa writing to me about how difficult he’d found it to adjust to the heat, when he first went out to St Kitts. I’m sure, in time, you’ll grow used to our English weather, too.’
Once the girls had seated themselves, he leaned closer, bending down so that his head was more on a level with theirs.
As he always had when he’d talked with Drew.
Pain slashed through him at the memory.
Think of Robert, not of Drew.
Then he realised he must have grimaced, for both girls drew back. Cursing himself for the lapse, he made himself smile again.
‘I understand you took a wagon ride to Bristol yesterday. Did you enjoy it?’
Once again, the girls were silent until Miss Overton gave Elizabeth a nod. ‘Yes, sir,’ the older girl said. ‘It was so nice to ride in the sun! Even though the sun here isn’t very warm. The city had so many ships in it!’ Her face brightening, she continued, ‘Papa used to take us to the city at home sometimes. It was on the sea and had lots of big ships, too. Only the water at home is very, very blue and clear, not like the grey water here.’
‘Perhaps, if the Colonel allows, we can drive to Bristol again soon,’ Miss Overton said. ‘We may need to get more supplies for the schoolroom. By the way, Colonel, I did a bit of looking late this morning, only to discover there isn’t “an” attic, but rather several attics, none of them connected to the other.’
‘You’re correct. The original part of Somers Abbey is medieval and the brothers who established the priory added other buildings through several centuries before the property was sold to one of my ancestors after the dissolution of the monasteries.’
‘Have you any idea which attic contains the household items?’
‘The one I remember exploring as a child was over the kitchen wing—probably closest to the staff quarters, which made it more convenient for them to access.’
‘I don’t think I found that one. Exactly how do you get to it?’
‘There’s a narrow staircase leading from the kitchen to an upstairs hallway and then a small door at the end of it, with an even narrower and steeper stair that goes to the attic.’
Smiling, she shook her head. ‘Maybe you could draw me a map.’
‘Mansfield could show you, but I’d rather not have him climbing those steep stairs. Perhaps...perhaps I could lead you up.’
‘That would be very helpful, but are you sure, Colonel? I know how busy you are and I would like to determine as soon as possible whether there are sufficient supplies in storage, or whether I need to make that trip to Bristol.’
Though Robert had left funds for the girls’ upbringing, Hugh didn’t intend to touch them unless absolutely necessary. He was responsible for his household and restricted finances be damned, he would provide them.
Still, if the items Miss Overton needed could be located in the attics, he’d be spared the expense of purchasing them. He was stuck here at the manor today anyway, so making a quick detour to the attic wouldn’t take him away from his work.
‘I don’t expect my meeting to last the whole of the afternoon and we should have daylight until fairly late. I’ll have Mansfield let you know when it’s concluded and I can take you up then.’
‘Thank you, Colonel, that would be most helpful. Very well, girls, we should leave the Colonel to prepare for his meeting. By the way, are you looking to support a reform candidate, Colonel?’
He angled his head at her. ‘Do you have an interest in politics, Miss Overton?’
‘Oh, yes. So much wonderful legislation has been enacted recently! A bill limiting child labour in factories, the abolition of slavery! Have you an interest in politics, Colonel?’
‘If you are asking whether or not I’d be willing to stand for Parliament, the answer is no—not at this time. I’ve still got too much work here to restore Somers Abbey. Besides, having been in India so long, I’m afraid I don’t know much about what’s been going on in England.’
‘Oh, but you must learn! The Factory Bill was a start in limiting hours for child workers, but there remains the matter of enacting adequate enforcement provisions and the need for more formal schooling for the children. My friends and I...’ Abruptly her voice trailed off and tears pooled at the corners of her eyes.
He’d watched, fascinated, as her face had grown animated, her cheeks rosy, her eyes—they were a deep brown, he realised—sparkling with passion. Until she suddenly went silent, the enthusiasm vanishing as abruptly as if she’d been slapped.
A bleak expression passed over her face before she swiped away the tears and said quietly, ‘Excuse me, sir. I didn’t mean to prose on. Thank you for letting us stop by. Make your curtsies now, girls. Let’s go back to the schoolroom and make a list of what I need to look for.’
The girls dipped their curtsies, Miss Overton rising from hers to square her shoulders and pace towards the door, as stiffly upright as if she were shouldering a heavy burden.
‘I’ll send for you when my meeting concludes,’ he said to her retreating form.
‘Yes, sir,’ she said in that same toneless voice, not looking back at him.
As he watched her go out, curious about that dramatic transformation, it occurred to him that he knew very little about her, beyond the fact that she had run her mother’s household—obviously a genteel one—and upon that lady’s death had sought employment as a governess. Which indicated that this must be her first such position—and that she had once lived in much more affluent circumstances.
Which was consistent with her behaviour since her arrival. Both her self-confidence and lack of deference indicated she was accustomed to being treated as a lady of breeding—a person of a status equal to his own. She was clearly not used to being treated—or behaving—as an inferior.
How had she ended up at Somers Abbey?
But even as the question formed, he squelched the curiosity. He didn’t need to think of Miss Overton as a gently bred lady, someone who might be invited into his parlour, dined or danced or flirted with. All he needed to know about her background was that she was competent to discharge her duties.
It would be much better for his peace of mind if he thought of her only as another female staff member, like Cook or the housemaid or the tweeny.
No matter how much her intelligence and passion argued otherwise.
Chapter Seven
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br /> Struggling to keep up a smile on her face for her charges, Olivia had to force herself to concentrate on settling the girls back in the nursery, telling them to rest for dinner, before she escaped to her own room to regain her composure.
Since leaving London, she’d been like the Colonel, she reflected as she sat on the side of her bed. Concentrating on filling her days with work and trying to go to her bed too tired to do anything but fall asleep. Deliberately putting her changed circumstances out of mind and refusing to think any further ahead than the next several days.
At the Colonel’s announcement that he and his neighbours would discuss filling a seat in Parliament, her thoughts had automatically returned to her friends, the Ladies’ Committee and the causes around which she’d centred her life. She’d begun to speak of them before the reality of her current life came crashing back—the friends far away, her involvement in the great issues of politics no longer possible.
Having never faced her losses, she hadn’t developed any armour against the onslaught of memories and the resulting tidal wave of loneliness and grief. Swept away and foundering, it had taken all her will and resolve to halt the tears, finish the interview with the Colonel and manage to leave the room with a modicum of dignity.
Sober reflection told her she probably ought to come to terms with the changes in her life, but she simply didn’t want to—yet. Though she couldn’t see how her circumstances would improve in six months, she still clung to the knowledge that after that time elapsed, she would return to London, see her dear friends and be once again surrounded by their love and support. Somers Abbey was temporary and, whether it was wise or not, she knew while she remained here, she would simply mark time.
But mark time with a purpose. Rather than brood over her uncertain future, she would focus on the present and accomplish as much as she could for the girls—and their guardian.
The Tempting of the Governess Page 7
