‘Do you know anything about the house, Miss Petrie, or Mrs Carstairs’s niece? Ashcombe is not that far away.’
Keeping her head bent, Octavia said carefully, ‘Mrs Carstairs was something of a legend in the county. But…but we none of us knew she had any intention of leaving Wychford to her niece. The niece certainly never visited her here, as far as I know.’
‘I see. Then I shall write to Walters. By the way, I’m taking the girls to Guildford again tomorrow. Mrs Allardyce has arranged dancing lessons for her own daughters and has suggested that Lisette and Pip share in them. Do you wish to come?’
‘I think not. The girls’ lessons have been a little neglected recently, and I should be glad of a chance to prepare some exercises for them.’
‘As you wish,’ he said, turning away. The girls protested, of course, but Octavia refused to change her mind. A day on her own, an opportunity to talk firmly to herself, seemed very desirable.
After Edward Barraclough and the girls had left for Guildford, Octavia spent some time preparing work for the next week. Her heart was heavy. Julia Barraclough might arrive quite soon, and from what had been said she was not the easiest of people to please. If the formidable Mrs Barraclough was not to be disappointed in the governess her brother-in-law had chosen, then they would all need to concentrate during the coming days. Otherwise her arrival might well betoken Octavia’s departure. In any case, Octavia’s time at Wychford would not last for very much longer. Two months was the original contract, and she had already been with the Barracloughs for well over half that time.
She worked steadily during the rest of the morning without any noticeable improvement in her mood. In the afternoon she dressed herself warmly and went out into the grounds. Perhaps a walk before the Barracloughs returned would clear her melancholy. The ground was wet and soft underfoot, though at least the rain had stopped, and the air was fresh. She walked briskly down the drive. When she turned the corner she saw a solitary rider coming towards her and recognised him with a shock.
Chapter Eight
‘Harry!’ cried Octavia. ‘Oh, my goodness! Whatever are you doing here?’
The tall, fair-haired young man dismounted and enveloped her in a vast hug. His riding cape swung open to reveal the uniform of a Lieutenant in the Guards. ‘What a way to greet your long-lost brother, Tavy! I expected better than this, I can tell you!’
‘But…but where have you come from?’
‘From Ashcombe, of course. I thought I’d stay a few days with you here, and have a look at your house. You’re a lucky dog! From what I’ve seen so far it’s a fine place! Fancy the Witch of Wychford leaving it to you!’
‘B…but what did Papa tell you?’
Her brother looked puzzled. ‘Why, that you were staying here putting the house in order. I didn’t stay long to talk, I was too annoyed with him. Did you know that Arthur says I have to leave the Army?’
‘I heard something of the sort, yes.’
‘What I want to know is why the devil has Arthur any say in it?’
‘I told Papa you’d take it badly. You’re right, Arthur’s too much of a busybody, but then he always has been, and now Papa has started leaving everything to him to do. It’s the succession he’s worried about, of course. You heard Sarah had another daughter?’
‘Hang the succession! What do I care about the succession? I wouldn’t do anything Arthur ordered me to, I can tell you. If it was just Arthur I’d stay put. But Father agrees with him. He wouldn’t even listen to what I had to say, so I thought I’d come and find you. Although you don’t seem as pleased to see me as you should!’
He sounded offended. Octavia gave him an affectionate hug and kiss. ‘Harry, of course I’m glad, very glad to see you! How could you think otherwise? It’s just…We have to talk. I have things I must tell you.’ She pulled at his sleeve. ‘Come away from the drive. They could be back at any moment.’
Her brother looked at her with suspicion, but didn’t resist. ‘Who are “they”? You look pretty worried, Tavy. What have you been up to?’
Octavia led Harry and the horse a short distance back from the drive along one of the rides that led into the wood. Fortunately, none of the groundsmen were about. As quickly as she could, she gave her brother the full story of her adventures at Wychford, omitting only certain personal and unnecessary details.
Harry had never been slow. In no time he was in full possession of the facts and highly amused.
Octavia gazed at him in exasperation and exclaimed, ‘You’re a dolt, Harry! Why are you laughing? Do you realise what would happen if they found out who I am?’
‘Well, I can’t answer for Barraclough, but if it were me I’d throw you out on your ear! Or can’t he do that to his landlady?’ Harry went into another paroxysm of laughter.
‘Harry!’ Octavia tried to stamp her foot, but failed in the soft ground.
‘Well, what were you thinking of? It’s a bit of a lark, perhaps, but I would have said you were past that kind of caper.’
‘I’ve told you! I didn’t mean it to be a caper! But the house…those girls…I was so tempted to stay here. You’ve no idea how I wanted to get away from Ashcombe!’
Octavia went on to tell him of her frustration, her boredom with her life at home. Harry was instantly sympathetic and said so. ‘But all the same, there must have been some other way, Tavy. You’ve put yourself in a pretty impossible position with the Barracloughs. What are they like?’
Octavia stopped and listened. In the distance could be heard the sound of hooves, the crack of the coachman’s whip and the crunch of wheels on gravel as a carriage turned in through Wychford’s gates. She said nervously, ‘If we’re not very lucky you may find out sooner than you thought. That’s Edward Barraclough’s carriage arriving back from Guildford. Pull your cape around you. That scarlet uniform can be seen for miles. And keep quiet. They mustn’t see us together. They mustn’t see you at all!’
Octavia waited tensely, then breathed a sigh of relief as the carriage passed safely by. She turned to her brother. ‘I’m sorry, Harry, but I’ll have to go. If Pip can’t find me in the house she’ll come looking for me, or send Lisette.’
‘But what am I to do? We haven’t had any time at all together! There’s much more to say. Dammit, we haven’t seen each other for more than two years! Be reasonable, Tavy! Can’t I come with you up to the house?’
‘No! What could I tell Edward Barraclough? He’s far too quick to be taken in by any story. He’d suspect something the minute he saw you.’
‘We aren’t very alike. I could pretend to be a friend.’
‘You’re not to come up to the house, Harry! In fact, I’d like you most of all to go back to Ashcombe and wait for me there.’
‘What, hang about Ashcombe for another three or four weeks? There’s no chance of that! I have to be back with the regiment well before then. Look, I’ll go to Ashcombe for tonight, but only to leave my uniform behind, and collect some other things to wear. Tomorrow I’ll get a room at the inn in the village here for two or three nights. We can see a little more of each other. Don’t worry! I won’t use my own name. I’ll be Harry…Harry Smith.’
‘That’s not very imaginative.’
‘Harry Smith is a great hero to anyone in the Army, my girl. He fought all through the Peninsular campaign, and at Waterloo.’
‘I see…’ said Octavia, her mind elsewhere. ‘Harry, if you want to be a hero, my hero, you could do something absolutely vital for me. I have an urgent message for Mr Walters, and I’ve been racking my brains how I could get it safely to him. If you would agree to deliver it on your way it would solve my problem. Tomorrow if possible. His chambers are in Guildford.’
‘Guildford! That’s miles out of my way!’
‘Please, Harry! It would take one worry off my mind if you would. I don’t think for a minute that Mr Walters would do anything without consulting me first, but it’s better to be sure. Mr Barraclough can be very forceful.’
‘It’s just that Mr Barraclough wants Mr Walters to arrange a meeting with Mrs Carstairs’s niece. That’s me, of course, and it’s impossible. But tell Walters he must be sure not to give my name, or tell Mr Barraclough who I am. Understand? Walters is not to give in. Can you remember it? There isn’t time to write it down.’
‘My dear sister, I’ve carried longer messages than that, and more important ones, too.’
‘Not to me they weren’t. Harry, you’re a darling! And now I must go! I’ll see you the day after tomorrow. I teach the girls in the morning, but I’ll meet you here at three. Don’t come earlier, whatever you do! If the weather is good the girls may come out for a walk with me before that. If I see you when I am out with them, I shall ignore you.’
She hurried back to the house, suffering from a mixture of feelings. It was wonderful to see Harry again, but she was not at all sure she wanted him so close. Wychford village was small, and there was bound to be speculation about what such a handsome young man was doing there all alone. But, thanks to Harry, she had at least found a way of warning Mr Walters. Octavia sighed. Life at Wychford had started out so simply. Now it was getting more complicated by the minute!
The girls were full of excitement about their dancing lesson, and insisted on taking Octavia to the music room to show her the steps they had learned. Even Pip, who had been rather scornful, was enthusiastic. Days of confinement to the house had left her with a good deal of surplus energy, and she had enjoyed the activity, especially the more lively steps of the dances.
‘Edward, you must help me to show Miss Petrie what we did!’ she cried. ‘Lisette, you play the piano!’ Laughing, her uncle allowed himself to be dragged into the centre of the room, where he bowed and took Pip’s hand, then set off round the room with her. They were an unevenly matched pair, to say the least, since Pip was not half her uncle’s height, and danced with all the grace of a grasshopper. But her uncle treated her with the polish and courtesy due to a belle of the ball. This was Edward Barraclough at his best, thought Octavia, watching them both rather wistfully.
‘Now you must try!’ said Pip, after they were back. She led her uncle up to Octavia and put their hands together. ‘Edward will show you how.’
‘I…I think I know the steps, Pip. Your uncle has had enough, I’m sure.’
‘Do dance with Edward, Miss Petrie!’ called Lisette. ‘Just a few steps—I’d like to see it done properly.’
‘Miss Petrie?’ asked Edward Barraclough, raising one eyebrow. ‘May I have this dance?’
The contrast between that eyebrow and his excessively formal tone made Octavia laugh. She entered into the spirit of the thing. ‘Why, thank you, sir,’ she said with a graceful curtsy. ‘Of course!’
He led her to the centre with a flourish, and bowed. Lisette struck up another country dance and they went twirling round, watched by a fascinated Pip.
Nothing could have been more closely chaperoned or more decorous. They were not dancing a quadrille or a waltz, but a harmless country dance with little close bodily contact. They did not even exchange a significant glance. But at none of the great balls she had attended in London had Octavia ever felt as she did in the music room at Wychford, dancing to Lisette’s piano—exhilarated, in harmony with her partner, tinglingly aware of his touch, however slight. They went round twice, at the end of which she decided she had better stop. She curtsied and said, ‘I think Lisette will be satisfied, sir.’
‘Perhaps so, but I’m not,’ he murmured as he bowed.
Octavia blushed, and looked at him reprovingly. It was a mistake. Mr Barraclough had such an engaging glint in his eye that she was strongly tempted to smile back at him. This would never do. She said severely, ‘I think Pip looks as if she’s had enough excitement for today, Mr Barraclough. Shall I see if Mrs Dutton has anything to suggest for supper?’
Octavia was unable to sleep that night. After tossing and turning for some time she sat up and stared at the circle of light cast by the small lamp by the door. It had been put there at the time of Pip’s illness, and was now lit every night, in case Pip had another of her nightmares. But she didn’t really see it. Instead she saw a dark face, the lift of a scarred eyebrow, the charm of a man’s smile, the glint in his eye…
Octavia sighed deeply. The feeling she had for Edward Barraclough did not seem to be influenced by rational arguments. Just when she thought she had mastered it, it had sprung to life again at the mere touch of his hand in a country dance! She had seldom felt so alive, so aware of a man’s presence. But it would not do! This was a passing phase, it must be! She must take a firmer grip of herself…
And now, just when she needed all her strength to master these new sensations, Harry had come to complicate matters even further. His presence in Wychford was bound to increase the danger of discovery. When she next saw him she must persuade him to go back to Ashcombe, even if it meant that she had to ask Mr Barraclough for another two days’ leave of absence in order to meet him there. And she didn’t wish to leave Wychford at all, even for two days. Time was getting so short…
Her anxious thoughts were cut short by a cry of fright from next door. It was followed by another, and another. Forgetting all her problems, Octavia leapt out of bed, and flung her wrapper round her. She snatched up her lamp and made her way to Pip’s room. Pip was asleep, but was seriously disturbed, tossing in her bed, whimpering, her arms flailing about as she vainly tried to find something to hold. The child was having one of her nightmares. Octavia hastily set the lamp down, sat on the bed and took her in her arms.
‘Hush, Pip, hush! I’ve got you. I’m here, my darling, I’ve got you safe.’
Pip’s eyes opened, and she stared blindly at Octavia. Then recognition came and she buried her head against Octavia and wept, ‘Miss Petrie! Oh, Miss Petrie, I was so frightened…’
‘I know,’ Octavia said, holding the child even more tightly. ‘But you’re safe now. It was only a dream, Pip. See? You’re here in your little tower room, and I’ve come from next door to make sure you’re all right. There’s nothing at all to worry about, darling.’
Pip stayed still for a moment, then she lifted her head and gazed round. What she saw seemed to reassure her and she smiled. ‘That’s right. I’m safe in my tower room. And you’re here. I’m so glad Edward chose you, Miss Petrie.’ She nestled more closely into Octavia’s arms, her eyelids drooped, and in less than a minute she was peacefully asleep again.
Octavia rested her cheek against Pip’s hair. The child was so easy to love. What a wrench it was going to be for both of them when she left! She settled back against the pillows and her eyes closed….
Edward had not been fully asleep, either, but just dozing off when Pip cried out. His room was some distance away and at first he thought it was an owl or some little creature in the woods. But after a few minutes it occurred to him that the sound might have come from Pip’s room. He lay there listening, but heard nothing. The house was in silence. All the same he decided that he would get no rest till he had made sure she was all right. Picking up his dressing gown and belting it round him, he strode swiftly along the landing to his niece’s room. Here he stopped. The door was open, and through it he could see Pip’s bed bathed in the light of a small lamp. Octavia Petrie was half-sitting, half-lying against the pillows, holding Pip in her arms. They were both asleep. Edward paused. He was in something of a dilemma. He had no wish to wake either of them, but though Pip was half under the blankets, Miss Petrie was on top, and lying very awkwardly. She would be cold and stiff when she woke.
He entered the room cautiously and stood by the bed. The ring of light shone on a face surrounded by loosely tied, honey-gold curls, resting lovingly on Pip’s black mop. Miss Petrie was breathing gently, the rise and fall of her bosom clearly visible under her thin wrapper. It was one of the most touchingly, innocently seductive sights he had ever seen…Determinedly, he looked a
way, round the dark room for a blanket or something else to put over her to keep her warm. When he turned back to the bed he saw that her eyes were wide open and she was looking at him.
‘Don’t worry,’ he whispered. ‘I was merely fetching something to put over you. You’ll get cold.’
She shook her head. ‘Pip is sound asleep. I think I can leave her.’ She twisted round, carefully pulled the covers up over Pip, then turned to stand up. She gave a cry of pain which was instantly suppressed.
‘What’s wrong?’
‘My…my leg! It’s gone to sleep…’
‘Here, let me!’ Edward gave her his hand and helped her to stand. ‘You shouldn’t have—’
‘Don’t talk here!’ she said. ‘We mustn’t wake the child.’ She took a step to the door and gasped, nearly falling as her leg gave way under her. Edward swept her up and carried her out of the room without saying a word. Then he set her down on the landing and carefully pulled Pip’s door to.
‘Can we talk here?’ he asked in a low voice.
‘I suppose. But there’s nothing to say. Except to thank you for helping me. I would have been very stiff tomorrow.’ She smiled up at him.
Edward could not help himself. His arms went round her and he held her very gently to him, one hand holding her head against his chest. ‘My dear Octavia,’ he said. ‘What am I to do?’
She let her head stay for an instant, then moved to look up at him gravely. He was touched to see that there was no sign of fear in her eyes. The feel of her silken hair and her slenderness in his arms were sending his senses rocketing, yet he was determined to justify her trust in him.
‘You have no idea how much I would like to take you with me back to my room—’ he put a finger over her lips as she started to protest, and went on ‘—and yet I won’t even try. That isn’t for us.’
A Very Unusual Governess Page 11
