A Very Unusual Governess

by Sylvia Andrew

The afternoon had been fine when they left the house, but now clouds were gathering and the air was noticeably chillier. Their light jackets and thin muslin dresses were hardly enough to keep them warm, and after a while Octavia decided that Pip had been given long enough to recover her temper. It was time to seek her out and go back inside.

  They knew better than to look for her along the paths or in the bushes. Pip would always choose to go upwards into a tree. But after a few minutes’ scrutiny of all Pip’s favourite trees, and increasingly loud appeals to her, it became clear that the child was deliberately hiding herself. Octavia was getting both angry and anxious. Large spots of rain were beginning to fall, and Lisette was shivering. She took off her own jacket, and, ignoring the girl’s protests, put it round her shoulders. Then they went on, searching further and further away from the house. Eventually they caught a glimpse of bright red high up in one of the trees that overhung the far side of the lake.

  Octavia was furious. The trees on the edge of the lake had been declared out of bounds, as were any but the lower branches of all the other trees. Pip had broken two of Octavia’s cardinal rules. But this was no time to vent her anger. The rain was falling faster, and all three of them were getting very wet. Pip must not be made nervous or upset. The descent from the tree would be difficult enough in these conditions. She kept her voice as calm and as matter-of-fact as she could manage.

  ‘Good!’ she called. ‘I wondered where you had got to. Are you feeling better? Ready to come down? You must be getting very wet up there. I think it’s time we all went in.’

  ‘Aren’t you cross with me for climbing this tree?’ demanded Pip. ‘I was sure you would be.’

  ‘Then why did you do it?’

  ‘I wanted to make you sorry! And I’m not coming down till you say you won’t go away!’ said Pip defiantly, adding, ‘Miss Froom wouldn’t have left us alone for two days, and I don’t think you should.’

  ‘Making me cross with you won’t help matters. I might be tempted to stay away longer!’ said Octavia.

  ‘Besides, you won’t be alone,’ pleaded Lisette. ‘Edward will be here. You like his company, don’t you, Pip?’

  ‘Edward doesn’t like mine! He invites other people to dinner, but not me.’

  ‘Edward loves your company! Look how much time he spends here at Wychford, even though he’s such a busy man.’

  Pip shook her head obstinately. ‘No, he doesn’t! He didn’t want to bring us to Wychford at all.’

  Putting more authority into her voice, Octavia said, ‘Philippa, I’m too wet to be cross, and poor Lisette is cold. I’m getting a crick in my neck looking up at you. Let’s talk about all this on terra firma.’

  ‘I don’t know where that is!’

  ‘Yes, you do! It’s the ground. Come down, Pip. We’ll go back to the house and have toasted muffins in front of the fire. That’s better than a boring dinner.’

  Pip loved muffins. She hesitated, then got up and began to move along the branch. Her foot slipped on the wet surface, and Octavia, standing helplessly below, caught her breath. But Pip had hold of a nearby branch and had managed to steady herself again. Still clutching the branch she looked down. ‘I…I can’t!’ she said uncertainly.

  ‘Of course you can, Pip! You climbed up, didn’t you? You can climb down again.’

  Pip edged along a few more inches, then, just as she reached the trunk of the tree, she slipped again. For a heart-stopping moment it looked as if this time she really would fall. But she saved herself once again, and with what looked like a huge effort twisted round and sat down against the trunk. Her voice rose as she wailed, ‘Miss Petrie! I…I can’t! It’s too slippy. I can’t!’

  Octavia’s heart sank—this was what she had feared. Pip’s fit of royal temper had taken her high up into the tree. But now she could see the dangers. She didn’t lack courage and under normal conditions would have tackled the climb down with only the slightest of hesitations. Now, however, she was cold and wet, and probably hungry too. She was quite literally stiff with fright.

  ‘Miss Petrie!’ came a scared little voice from above. ‘Miss Petrie, what am I to do? I’m afraid!’

  Octavia turned to Lisette. ‘Run to the house! Get help. I’ll stay here. Quickly!’

  Lisette threw a frightened glance up at her sister. ‘Oughtn’t I to stay?’

  Octavia said forcefully, ‘You can run more quickly than I can. Go!’ To her relief Lisette obeyed the command, and ran off without more protest.

  Octavia had already made up her own mind what she had to do. Lisette had to make her way all round the lake to get back to the house, and meanwhile Pip would only get colder and stiffer. If she was left by herself for too long she might even make another effort to climb down, and that could be disastrous. A quick examination of the tree showed Octavia that she had climbed many more difficult ones in her youth. Though she might be small, she was nimble. Her long skirts would get in the way, however…She took off her stockings and used them as a kind of sash to hitch her dress up above her knee. As she put her shoes on again, she called, ‘Stay where you are, Pip! I’m coming up to join you!’ Then she braced herself and set off up the tree. The rain ran down her face and into her eyes, but she ignored it, concentrating on finding her way through to the frightened child above her. It was an enormous relief when she found herself near enough and secure enough to take Pip into her arms and settle with her against the trunk. They were both cold and wet, but there they would have to wait for help. Getting Pip down by herself was completely beyond her.

  Edward had returned unexpectedly early from London and was busy taking off his wet hat and cloak in the hall when Lisette dashed in. He took one look at her distraught face and her soaking dress and jacket and exclaimed, ‘What’s happened? Is it Pip? Where is she?’

  Lisette began to sob out a somewhat incoherent story, but, the instant she managed to describe where Pip and her governess were, Edward turned to his groom and ordered him down to the lake. Then, stopping only to give orders to the housekeeper and deliver Lisette into her hands, he followed.

  At first he thought Lisette had got the directions wrong. Except for Jem, there was no sign of anyone under the tree she had described. But then he heard a cry. Looking up, he saw what looked like a sodden bundle of clothing tucked into a hollow between the trunk of the tree and one of its main branches. It was Miss Petrie. In her arms he could just make out a red jacket and a tangle of black curls.

  ‘Fetch a ladder,’ he rapped out to the groom. ‘And some men. And blankets, too!’

  Before the groom had gone ten paces, Edward had taken off his coat and was scaling the tree. The rain was still streaming down, and the holds were treacherous. Even as he climbed he was wondering how the devil Miss Petrie had managed to get herself up there.

  As he got near them he heard her say, ‘Here’s Edward, Pip! Isn’t that nice?’ Her calm voice held nothing but pleasure, but her face revealed the strain she was under as she held herself back into the curve of the tree, the child hugged tightly to her. The effort needed to balance them both must be enormous. They were soaked to the skin and Pip was shivering, her head buried against Miss Petrie’s neck, with her hands clutching Miss Petrie’s shoulders as if she would never let go. Pip was in such a state of panic that getting her to the ground could be something of a problem. His first job must be to reassure the child.

  He paused, smiled up at them both, and said cheerfully, ‘May I join you? Or shall I escort you down?’ Then he swung himself up beside them.

  Pip’s face was hidden, and her hands only tightened their clasp. Miss Petrie said, ‘I think you ought to make your peace with Pip first, Mr Barraclough.’

  ‘What for?’

  ‘You left her out of your dinner invitation last night.’

  ‘Now, isn’t that odd? I didn’t think she’d mind it a bit! I thought she would much prefer a muffin tea in front of the fire this afternoon. That’s why I’ve come home early. I was a little put out, I can
tell you, when I couldn’t find any of you about!’

  Pip raised her head and said in a small voice, ‘Did you, Edward? You came home early? Just for that? I’d like some muffins.’

  ‘Well, you’d better come down, then, midget! Mrs Dutton won’t like to be kept waiting. Hand her over, Miss Petrie, and we’ll have her down in two shakes of a monkey’s tail. That’s right.’ Edward’s deep, reassuring voice had its effect. Pip allowed herself to be transferred, and Edward gave Miss Petrie a sympathetic smile. ‘You’ll have to wait here, I’m afraid,’ he said, as he moved along the branch. ‘But I’ll soon be back for you. Look, Pip! There’s a ladder waiting, and it’s only a little way down to it. Come on.’

  Edward half-carried, half-guided Pip down to the ladder, which had been brought by Jem and one of the gardeners. He saw her to the ground and handed her over to his groom. ‘Let Jem take you now, midget!’ he said, giving her a hug as he wrapped her in one of the blankets. ‘He’ll take you to the house to get warm. Lisette is there. I have to rescue Miss Petrie.’

  Jem set off and Edward turned his attention to the tree again. He had one foot on the bottom rung of the ladder before he saw that Miss Petrie was making her own way down!

  ‘Don’t be such a damned fool!’ he exclaimed. ‘Wait!’ He climbed up the ladder and was just in time to see her slip on the last major branch before reaching the top rung. For a heart-stopping moment she hung above him, desperately clutching the branch over her head. He caught her just as her arms began to loosen their hold. With a grunt he hauled her against him and held her fast.

  ‘I thought I told you to wait,’ he growled.

  ‘I th…thought your p…priority would be to see P…Pip safely indoors, Mr B…Barraclough, and as I was cold I didn’t wish to wait for you to come back.’ He could see the effort she was making to stop her teeth from chattering as she went on, ‘I can’t understand it. I would normally be p…perfectly capable of climbing d…down a tree like this by myself.’

  ‘You’re a fool! At the moment you’re in no state for gymnastics—you’re wet, stiff and cold. We must get you in as soon as possible. I don’t want a bedridden governess on my hands. Come on!’ He moved towards the top step of the ladder.

  Miss Petrie looked down, swallowed, then shook her head. ‘You’ll have to give me a little t…time,’ she said. ‘I…I don’t think I can at the moment. My arms and legs seem to have turned to j…jelly…It’s absurd!’

  He looked at her more carefully. Her face was pale and as wet as the rest of her. Her hair, loosened by Pip’s clutching hands, was hanging down her back in a tangle of curls. She had a streak of dirt down one cheek and the neck of her gown had been pulled almost off her shoulder by Pip’s frantic clasp. It didn’t matter. The dress had been rendered practically transparent by the rain, anyway. He noted, without really thinking about it, that she had beautifully slender ankles and a well-shaped leg…And then realised with a shock that she had her dress pulled up to her knees, and her legs were bare! Firmly telling himself that this was no time to be distracted, he cleared his throat and said, ‘If I go first down the ladder, can you follow me immediately after? I can quite easily stop you falling if we stay close and go down together. It shouldn’t be difficult. The sooner you’re indoors and in dry—’ he cleared his throat again ‘—in dry clothes, the better. Can you follow me, do you think?’

  She eyed the ground uneasily but nodded.

  ‘Good!’ he said.

  He climbed down several rungs, then waited until she was on the top steps in front of him, and they slowly descended together. Edward’s arms were either side of her hips, his face just above her waist. She may be tiny, he thought, but she was beautifully formed…An enticingly perfect bosom seen just a moment before, a tiny waist immediately below his eyes, the rounded contour of her hips between his arms, those ankles…He hoped that Miss Petrie felt safe, but if she had been able to read his mind at that moment she would be seriously worried, and not about negotiating her way to the ground! The sway of those hips, the shift of her waist as first one foot then the other came down the ladder, the brush of her body against his, were having a surprisingly powerful effect on him! He fixed his mind firmly on the job in hand, and managed to reach ground level without doing anything he might later regret, such as letting the ladder go and putting his arms round the tempting curves in front of him!

  He helped Miss Petrie off the last rung, where she stood in a daze, completely unconscious of the state of her clothing. When he turned round Seth, the gardener, was holding out a blanket, and grinning broadly as he eyed her.

  Edward snatched the blanket from him and said sharply, ‘Stop standing there like an ape, and take the ladder back to the shed! Off with you!’ He turned back to Miss Petrie. ‘You’d better put this round you. And pull your skirts down!’ His tone was curt and she looked at him blankly, obviously not understanding his sudden anger. With an exclamation of impatience he pulled her towards him, undid her rag of a sash to release her skirts, then wrapped her in the blanket himself. She looked so lost and tired, that, before he could stop himself, his arms tightened and he kissed her.

  For a moment she stood like a child accepting, even welcoming, his lips on hers. The feeling of her soft, responsive mouth under his was magical. Edward’s lips moved, and the kiss deepened and changed in character. The blanket dropped as he shifted and held her more closely, more intimately, his body hard against her…She shivered, then clung to him, perhaps seeking his life-giving warmth.

  ‘Octavia!’ he said unevenly, and kissed her again.

  The sound of his voice brought her out of her trance. She came to life immediately, pulling her arms free and pushing him away. ‘No!’ she cried, a mixture of shock and shame in her voice. ‘No, you mustn’t! I’m sorry if I seemed to be asking you to…Oh, what must you think of me? But I wasn’t. I assure you. No!’ She looked round frantically for the blanket, picked it up and pulled it round her again. ‘You must believe me, Mr Barraclough!’ she stammered. ‘I’m not like that…Not at all…’

  Edward was almost as shocked as she was. It was a long time since he had allowed his feelings to take over to such an extent. Whatever the temptation, he usually remained in complete control of what he was doing. He must put things right immediately. ‘Miss Petrie, I didn’t mean to…to…I’m the one who is sorry!’ he stammered with a lack of self-possession that would have astounded his friends. ‘I…I didn’t think…and then I seemed to lose my head…. I apologise. Please believe me, it won’t happen again, I assure you! Never!’

  She gazed at him doubtfully, but what she saw in his face seemed to reassure her. After a moment she looked away and nodded. He went on, still feeling somewhat awkward, ‘May I suggest we get back to the house as quickly as we can? You’ll be ill if you don’t change out of those wet garments soon. Do you…do you need my arm? Or shall I carry you?’ He was shocked again as the thought of carrying her, of having her in his arms again, suddenly quickened his pulse. This was absurd! What was happening to him? He was behaving like a raw boy! It was almost a relief when she shook her head, and he could take a firmer grip of himself.

  But then, when she had taken a few steps, she stopped. Without looking at him she said stiffly, ‘I think I should like an arm to lean on, after all. I’m sorry.’ She looked so worn, and so nervous, that he was overcome with remorse. Forgetting his own feelings, he offered her his arm.

  The rain had stopped. Together they walked back towards the house. They were met halfway by Mrs Dutton, who had dealt with Lisette and Pip and was now coming to look for their governess. She offered to take over from Edward, but he refused. Miss Petrie’s hand was only lightly resting on his arm, but he was proud she had trusted him enough to ask for his help. Besides, it felt strangely comfortable. He didn’t wish to relinquish it.

  As they drew up to the house a faint ray of sunshine caught the windows of Wychford. It seemed to Edward that they twinkled with surprising brightness in the watery light. The
house looked somehow…pleased with itself.

  The muffins were served in the small parlour in front of a roaring fire. By the time Octavia came down after changing, the others were gathered round a tea table laden with silver coffee pots, jugs of chocolate, lemonade and, of course, dishes of muffins. It was an attractive scene—firelight reflected on the silver, Pip sitting close to her uncle, Lisette, quite recovered from her anxiety, smiling at them affectionately across the table. Octavia hesitated on the threshold, but Edward Barraclough got up the instant he saw her and led her forward to her place.

  Octavia found it impossible to meet his eyes. A short while before, when she had reached her bedchamber and removed the blanket, she had been shocked beyond measure at the state of her dress—torn, almost transparent, and, until Mr Barraclough had released it, she remembered, it had been held well above her knees by her stockings! No wonder he had taken such a liberty with her! Between the display of her person, and the way she had positively asked to be embraced, he might well have thought it discourteous to refuse! If he had been looking for a flirtation with the governess to while away the time at Wychford, she had just given him every encouragement! She stood in front of her mirror, holding her hands to hot cheeks, and feeling deeply ashamed.

  He had been a true gentleman afterwards, she thought, taking the blame on himself, and apologising very convincingly. Perhaps he really thought he had been to blame, and wouldn’t regard what had happened as encouragement. He had sounded sincere enough in his promise never to repeat it.

  But that was no comfort. She knew that inside she had wanted him to hold her as he had, wanted him to kiss her. What did that say of her? She didn’t even like the man!

  But that wasn’t true. Mr Barraclough might not be the blond hero of her dreams, but she liked him. His treatment of Pip that afternoon had been exactly right. One could do more than like such a man…Octavia drew herself up with a start, alarm bells ringing in her mind. She must not go further with this line of thought. Mr Barraclough might be everything that was admirable, but she had no intention of thinking of him as anything but her employer. In taking this job with the Barracloughs she had deliberately set herself in a different sphere from them, and the distance between Edward Barraclough and herself must be kept while she remained in his service.