‘That’s soon explained. I never met anyone I wanted to marry!’
‘You’ve never been in love?’
‘Not really.’
‘Never?’
Octavia gave a small smile. ‘When I was younger I thought I was. With a very handsome young soldier, called Tom Payne—tall, blond, blue-eyed, and full of fun. He came down here on leave with my brother in the summer of 1812, and he and Stephen got up to such scrapes that I don’t think I stopped laughing for the whole of that fortnight. I’ve never forgotten it.’
‘That’s hardly my idea of a great romance! Did he make love to you?’
‘Of course not. I was only fourteen! I don’t think it entered his head. But if he had lived…I might have met him again…’
‘He was killed?’
Octavia nodded. ‘At Waterloo. Both of them. He and Stephen together.’ She paused then went on, ‘I got over it, of course. Our acquaintance had been too short for real heartbreak. By the time I went to London for my come-out I was quite my old self. But…I never had an offer there that I wished to accept.’
‘Oh, come now! That is absurd! You can’t have been short of choice! You’re not only a very pretty girl, you are rich and related to half the best families in England. You must have attracted any number of eligible young men!’
‘Perhaps so. But not one of them attracted me!’
‘You were surely not still pining for Tom Payne?’
‘Oh, no! It wasn’t that exactly, but…but he was always my ideal—blond, blue-eyed, and fun. And no one quite measured up to him. Compared with Tom they were so dull! I couldn’t face spending the rest of my life with any one of them. And then London was noisy, and dirty…and full of scandal…’
‘Then your mama died and you left town.’
‘Quite without regret.’
‘And you decided to stay at Ashcombe, to put off even considering marriage until your father could manage without you. I said at the time it was a mistake, if you remember.’
‘But there wasn’t anyone else! Harry couldn’t stay—he was already in the Army—and the rest of the family were married and established elsewhere. Papa would have had to move in order to live with any of them, and you know how he hates change. He even refused to move to Warnham Castle when Grandpapa died.’
‘So your brother Arthur took over the family seat. I must say, the Castle is more Arthur’s style! How is he?’
‘Much the same as ever. Pompous, opinionated and prosy! Sarah is expecting another child, and Arthur is full of hope that she will give him a son at last.’
‘How many daughters has he?’
‘Four.’
‘And no son. His poor wife. She won’t get much sympathy from Arthur if she fails him again. I can quite see why your father wouldn’t wish to live in the Castle with Arthur! But I still don’t see why you had to sacrifice yourself?’
‘I assure you, ma’am, it was no sacrifice—at the time! But now…I feel trapped!’ She gave a little laugh. ‘Sometimes I feel quite desperate!’
‘You need to get away for a while. Could you not visit one of your sisters?’
‘What? To be a nursemaid to their children rather than to my f—’ She stopped short. ‘Rather than manage Ashcombe for my father? Here at least I only answer to him! But…with your help I shall have a brief holiday—all of eleven or twelve hours.’ She got up and walked about the room. After a while she turned and said with an impatient gesture, ‘Oh, pay no attention to me, ma’am! I wasn’t forced into my life here—I chose it. Marriage would not be the way out. From what I have seen of my sisters’ husbands, I would merely exchange one form of boredom for another.’
‘You still haven’t met the right man,’ said Lady Dorney with a smile. ‘He’ll turn up, you’ll see!’
‘That is romantic nonsense! At fourteen I might have believed in fairy tales, but at twenty-two I’ve given them up. No, when I no longer have Papa to look after, I shall turn into a crotchety old maid living at Wychford with a pug and a downtrodden companion, and children will think me a witch, as I did Aunt Carstairs!’
‘She had the air of one, certainly. She had a way of looking at people…I only met her once, but I felt she knew what I was thinking before I did myself! What is this Wychford like?’
‘I’ve never seen it. My aunt never invited any of us there, she was something of a recluse. I shall see it for the first time next Tuesday. I’m so relieved you’ll be here to look after Papa. I know how tedious it can be…’
Lady Dorney looked at Octavia in astonishment. ‘My dear girl, you are quite wrong! I shall look forward to it!’ She laughed at the expression on Octavia’s face. ‘You needn’t look at me like that, Octavia. I am quite serious. I love looking after people, especially someone as sweet-natured and gentle as your Papa.’
‘Really?’
Lady Dorney took Octavia’s hand. ‘Since Dorney died there’s been such a…a hole in my life that I sometimes hardly know what to do with myself. Coming here might seem dull to you, but to me it’s most enjoyable! Indeed, I’d be happy to keep your father company for longer than a day if you wished! Now, tell me how you intend to travel. How far did you say it was to Wychford? And what do you know about these Barracloughs? Might there be a charming young, blond, blue-eyed Mr Barraclough who will “amuse” you?’
Octavia laughed. ‘If only there were, ma’am! But, according to Mr Walters, the Barracloughs are a sober, upright and highly respectable family. And since there are only two daughters, there are absolutely no prospects there for me, I’m afraid. In any case, I shan’t meet any of them—the Barracloughs won’t be there. They’re not due at Wychford for another week at least.’
Meanwhile, some three miles from Wychford, the ‘sober, upright and highly respectable’ Mr Barraclough, grim-faced, got out of his carriage, which was leaning drunkenly to one side, examined the broken wheel-pin and swore fluently and comprehensively. Three heads popped out of the window, one interested, one nervous and the third dressed in a black bonnet, its feathers quivering with outrage.
‘Mr Barraclough! Sir! You forget yourself,’ said the black bonnet severely. ‘Lisette! Philippa! Sit back this minute and put your hands over your ears.’
‘You’d do better to tell them to get out as quickly as they damn well can, Miss Froom,’ said Edward brutally. ‘I cannot promise that the whole lot won’t topple over any moment. Out with the lot of you!’
‘But there’s too much mud on the road!’
‘Better muddy shoes than bruised bottoms! Out with you! You first, Pip!’ Ignoring Miss Froom’s gasp of outrage at his language, he lifted the youngest of the three occupants out and swung her over to the dry verge of the road. ‘Now you, Lisette. Don’t hang back, you’ll be perfectly safe with me.’ Lisette was lifted and deposited next to her sister. ‘Miss Froom?’
‘Thank you, Mr Barraclough, I’ll get out by myself,’ Miss Froom said with dignity.
‘As you choose, ma’am,’ said Edward with ironic amusement. But when Miss Froom landed in the pool of mud and would have slipped he caught her by the waist and bundled her to the side to join the others, where she stood, ramrod straight, bristling with indignation.
He left her there while he went back to examine the damage done to his carriage. Meanwhile, Pip took advantage of the situation to scramble up the nearest tree where she perched on one of the branches. When Lisette looked up and saw her she gave her a very sweet smile, but Miss Froom exclaimed loudly, ‘What on earth do you think you are doing, miss? Get down this instant! Get down, I say! Mr Barraclough, tell that child to get off the tree. Look at her! I must protest—’
‘Protest all you wish, Miss Froom, it won’t do you any good,’ he said impatiently. ‘I have more urgent things to do than listen to you at the moment. If you can’t control the child, then I suggest you leave her up there. She’s perfectly safe.’ Then, turning his back on her he shouted, ‘Jem! Jem! Where the devil are you? How bad is it?’
Sca
rlet-faced, Miss Froom drew a deep breath, pursed her lips, and sat down on a nearby tree trunk. ‘Sit here with me, Lisette,’ she said coldly. ‘And you may take that silly smile off your face. I do not find your sister’s disobedience at all amusing.’
‘She’s not really disobedient, Miss Froom,’ said Lisette earnestly. ‘Pip always looks for somewhere to perch. She likes being high up. Papa used to call her his little marmoset…’ She bit her lip. ‘She…she used to make him laugh…’
‘That may be, but if I am to be responsible for her that child will have to behave like a young lady, not a street entertainer’s monkey! My previous charge, the Lady Araminta, was younger than Philippa when I first started to teach her. You would never have found her up a tree, she was a model of good behaviour. But then so were all her sisters and brothers. The Marchioness, their mother…’
Both girls sighed. They had known Miss Froom for a mere three days but they had already heard more than they wished about the Marchioness of Ledbury and her perfect family.
After Miss Froom had finished on the subject of the Ledburys she turned her attention to Lisette. ‘Try to act like a lady, Lisette! Put your feet together and sit up straight. That is better. Now! You may list for me the kings and queens of England in order of succession. We needn’t waste time while we are waiting to continue our journey.’
‘I…I don’t know them.’
‘You don’t know them?’
‘Not…not like that. In a list.’
‘William the Conqueror,’ shouted Pip. ‘He shot an arrow into Harold’s eye!’
Miss Froom ignored her. ‘Then you will have to learn. What about the prophets of the Old Testament?’
‘The prophets? Er…J…Jeremiah…’
‘In order, if you please!’
‘I…I can’t do things like that, Miss Froom. It’s not the way Mama taught us.’
‘I see.’ Miss Froom’s tone suggested that she thought poorly of Mama’s methods.
‘Her lessons were fun, and we learned a lot!’ said an aggressive voice from above.
‘My methods of instruction are directed towards the acquisition of knowledge, not fun,’ said Miss Froom coldly. ‘Lady Ledbury fully approved of them. At the age of ten the Lady Araminta could recite all the…’
‘The Lady Araminta sounds a dead bore to me,’ muttered Pip rebelliously. ‘And so does the Marchioness of Ledbury.’
‘What was that, Philippa?’
‘Look, Miss Froom! Edward is coming! I think the carriage is ready,’ cried Lisette hastily. ‘Come down, Pip, dear. We shall soon be on our way.’
Mr Barraclough reported that the pin had been replaced, and they could now complete the last three miles of the journey to Wychford. ‘So, we’ll be off! Into the carriage with you! Miss Froom?’
They set off once again. But the silence was oppressive. Mr Barraclough looked sharply at Miss Froom’s pursed lips and pinched nostrils, and then at Pip. ‘Is there something wrong?’ he asked.
‘Philippa is a very rude, undisciplined, ill-mannered little girl,’ said Miss Froom sharply.
Pip sat upright, looking mutinous, and Lisette put a restraining hand on her arm. ‘She didn’t mean to be rude. She’s tired, Edward. It’s been a long day. I am sure she is sorry. Please forgive her, Miss Froom.’
There was silence. Mr Barraclough said, ‘Miss Froom?’
‘I do not mind so much for myself, though it is not what I am used to,’ said Miss Froom stiffly. ‘But when an ignorant little girl criticises the family of as great a nobleman as the Marquess of Ledbury, whose family goes back hundreds of years—’
Mr Barraclough, too, had heard his fill of the Ledburys. It was his private opinion that the Marchioness would have done better to pay less attention to her children and more to her husband. Ledbury’s amours were the gossip of London. But he said, ‘Yes, yes, it is absurd. You should not regard it, Miss Froom. In future you must try to guard that unruly tongue of yours, Philippa. Now, do you see the house?’
Chapter Three
They had just passed through some gates. Ahead of them was a long drive that wound round a lake. Pip leaned out dangerously and shouted with excitement, ‘I can see it, I can see it! Edward, it’s lovely! It’s got funny little windows—and look! Barley-sugar chimneys and a tower! Can I have a room in the tower? Please let me have a room in the tower!’
Lisette peered round. ‘What a beautiful colour it is in the evening sun,’ she said. ‘And just look at the trees! Green and scarlet, brown, gold—they’re glorious! I think we shall like living here. What do you think, Miss Froom?’
Miss Froom had not recovered her humour. She threw a glance at the house. ‘I doubt very much that I shall,’ she said repressively. ‘I know these old houses, though I have fortunately never had to live in one before. This one looks like all the rest—dark and damp. And those windows will let in the draughts.’ She stared disapprovingly at Pip’s lichen-stained skirt and tumbled curls, and surveyed Lisette with a frown. ‘I can also see that I have a great deal of hard work before me before I achieve the standards I expect in my pupils.’
Mr Barraclough observed the excitement in Pip’s face slowly die. He looked at the shadows in Lisette’s eyes and said abruptly, ‘I am sorry you find the prospect of teaching my nieces so repulsive, Miss Froom. They’ve had—we have all had—a difficult time of late. You were engaged to be responsible for their education, but until their aunt and uncle arrive from the West Indies I had hoped that you would see to their happiness and welfare as well.’
‘Discipline and hard work bring happiness, sir,’ said Miss Froom. ‘That has always been my philosophy, and children are the better for it.’
Mr Barraclough regarded her with a thoughtful frown, but said nothing as the carriage came to a halt in front of shallow steps that led to a massive oak door. He ushered the girls and their governess into a large stone hall, where Mrs Dutton, the housekeeper, was waiting to welcome them.
She took Miss Froom and the girls on a tour of inspection while Edward went into the library, but after a short while the two girls came back alone and joined him there.
‘That was quick!’ he said. ‘Where’s Miss Froom?’
‘She…she said she would lie down for a little,’ said Lisette. ‘She has the headache.’
Pip ran to her uncle and grasped his arm. ‘Edward! Edward, please, please send her away. I don’t like her! She’s horrid!’ she said fiercely.
‘What’s all this? Have you been rude to Miss Froom again?’ asked Edward sternly.
‘She deserved it! She said I had to sleep in a horridly poky room next to her so she would know what I was up to. But I wanted the little corner room! The one in the tower. Why couldn’t I have the tower room?’
Their uncle looked harrassed. ‘That’s not my sphere, Pip, and it’s a very poor reason for this tantrum! Or for being rude again.’
‘It wasn’t that! It wasn’t that at all! She…she’s cruel!’ Pip threw herself on the sofa and burst into tears. Edward swore under his breath and looked on with a frown as Lisette took the child in her arms and comforted her. What the devil had he done to deserve this? He had always prided himself on the ease with which he could handle any woman in practically any situation. But this one tired, lost, little girl defeated him. Confound Julia! Why the hell did she have to break her leg just at this particular time! And what was Henry thinking of to send the girls over without her? He looked at his nieces and his mood softened. With a sigh of resignation he sat down beside them and said, ‘What was it, Lisette? Tell me the whole. Is it true that Miss Froom was so disagreeable?’
Lisette said quietly, ‘I’m afraid so. Miss Froom isn’t at all a kind person. When she refused to let Pip have the tower room, Pip got angry and said that Mama would have wanted her to have it. Miss Froom said…she said she didn’t doubt it. That Philippa was a spoiled little girl and the sooner she learned who was now in charge of her the better.’
‘Miss Froom is tired after
the journey. Pip can be confoundedly trying…’
‘She said more than that, Edward. She said that our mama…She said that our mama was dead and wasn’t coming back. And that if Pip carried on being such a naughty little girl she wouldn’t go to heaven to see her mother again.’
‘She said what?’
‘That Mama was dead. It’s true, of course.’ Lisette looked down at the child in her arms. ‘It was cruel of her, though.’
Edward Barraclough looked grimmer than ever and said with formidable calm, ‘That settles it. Your aunt and I have made a mistake. Take Pip into the morning room, Lisette, and stay there with her. One of the maids will bring a drink for you both. You needn’t concern yourselves any further with Miss Froom.’ He strode to the door.
‘What are you going to do?’
‘The carriage is still harnessed up. It can take her to Kingston tonight, and she can take the London stage tomorrow.’
‘No, Edward, you can’t send her off into the night like that.’
‘I can and will! I’ll have that woman out of the house before she says another poisonous word to anyone.’
‘No, you can’t do that. It’s too late. She mustn’t be asked to stay alone in an inn. You must let her spend the night here. Send her away tomorrow.’
Edward scowled. ‘You’re just like your mother—too tender-hearted for your own good, girl.’
‘Please, Edward! Miss Froom may be unkind, but we ought not to be the same.’
Edward was about to refuse, but he looked at Lisette’s face and his expression softened. He said reluctantly, ‘Very well. She can stay the night. Now off with you. I want to speak to Miss Froom.’
Miss Froom departed the next morning with pursed lips, a month’s salary and a carefully worded letter for her agency. Pip was beside herself with glee, but her uncle was not so happy.
‘Stop that war dance, Pip and try to think what on earth we’re to do now! We’re in a mess! Who the devil will look after you now that Miss Froom has gone? I can’t leave you alone here, but I shall have to go to London occasionally.’
A Very Unusual Governess Page 3
