More importantly, she had done wonders with his ward. The boy was less painfully shy though there was still a wariness in his eyes that shouldn’t be there in one so young. Saybrook ran his hands through his thick locks. It was his own fault, he knew, if the boy was afraid of him. He should spend more time with him, but...
He kept pacing, lost in thought, until Glavin knocked to inform him that his supper was served. With a heavy sigh he left the library, wishing that the short stay was already at an end.
* * * *
Jane took supper in the kitchen with Mrs. Fairchild and Peter, as had become their habit. It was informal and cozy, with the delicious smells emanating from the copper pots and Cook’s constant stream of banter and neighborhood gossip. She felt the atmosphere was good for the boy, and no one argued with her—indeed no one argued with any suggestion she made around Highwood, but seemed to accept her suggestions naturally.
Mrs. Fairchild was still distracted and monitored every dish that was carried to the dining room, much to Cook’s offense. So Jane forbore questioning her about His Lordship, though there were many things she wished to know about. She was not so reticent when she took Peter up to bed.
“I thought you told my your uncle was old?” she said as they climbed the stairs.
Peter looked perplexed. “Why, he is, Miss Jane. I heard Mrs. Fairchild say he is nearly eight and twenty.”
“Oh, ancient!” Jane laughed and rolled her eyes. How silly of her.
After she had finished reading to Peter she noticed that he seemed restless and loath to see her go. So after putting the book aside she sat on the edge of the bed and fondly brushed the locks from his forehead.
“Are you happy your uncle has come for a visit?”
Peter gave her a strange look then cast his eyes down to his blanket.
“He doesn’t like me,” he finally blurted out.
Jane’s arm slipped around his frail shoulders and squeezed gently. “Why Peter, what fustian! Of course he likes you,” she said with forced cheerfulness while fearing that, with a child’s natural perception, he had indeed sensed the truth. “You must realize that your Uncle is very busy, with many demands on his time. I’m sure he does not mean you to think he doesn’t care,” she added lamely.
The boy nodded miserably. She could feel his shoulder hunch under her touch and found herself wondering whether the poignant scene would wipe the arrogant sneer from Lord Saybrook’s face. Remembering the cold, carefully controlled manner of earlier in the evening she doubted it. And it made her dislike His Lordship even more. But she couldn’t bear to see Peter so downcast. Without thinking, she came up with a plan.
“How would you like to surprise your uncle—and make him very proud of you?”
The boy looked up in wonder. “How?”
“I heard Henry talking about the village fair. There is to be a riding competition, one for children as well as adults. I think you’ve come along so nicely you should be part of it. We’ll make it a surprise.”
“I don’t know,” he faltered. “I don’t…do you really think...”
She squeezed him harder. “Of course you can! You and Tarquin are best of friends now and you’ve been off the lead for days. By week’s end you’ll be trotting and shall be quite ready for the fair.”
“He might not be there.” Peter was trying to keep the growing excitement out of his voice.
“Oh, he’ll be there. Leave that to me,” smiled Jane grimly. As she well knew, any of the surrounding gentry in residence would be bound by tradition to put in an appearance. And furthermore, if she had to jam a pistol in to his elegant ribs, Lord Saybrook would be there. Of course it was to be hoped that such extreme measure would not be necessary. Surely even an unfeeling guardian could not begrudge such a small demand on his time. But she would deal with that later. Right now she was rewarded by seeing the look of happiness on the boy’s face.
“It will be a big surprise, will it not?” he said with unconcealed delight.
“Indeed it will. We’ll practice extra hard this week—but mind you, you mustn’t neglect your lessons. And now, you had better get some sleep. We have a lot of work to do.”
She planted a kiss on the top of his head and tucked him under the covers.
“Good night, Miss Jane,” murmured the boy as she walked towards the door with her candle. “And thank you.”
She closed the door knowing full well she left a sleepy little boy to dream happily of saddles and ponies and guardian uncles.
* * *
Chapter 4
Jane saw very little of Lord Saybrook over the next few days. He rose quite early each morning to ride out with his steward before she came down for breakfast. A few times she caught a glimpse of him striding into the house, where he disappeared into the library. In the evenings, he dined alone and then retreated to the sanctuary of the library again. The footmen mentioned that he retired quite late, sometimes past midnight.
So she had not had the chance to speak to him about the fair. He had certainly made no effort to have any further dealing with her—in fact, it was as if she didn’t exist, she fumed, though why that irritated her she had no idea. Of course the lord of the manor would not concern himself about the governess.
He didn’t concern himself about Peter either, she noted. The boy saw no more of him than she did, though more than once she had caught him staring wistfully out the window as his uncle rode off on Hero. Even she could not deny he was an excellent rider and cut a dashing figure on the spirited black stallion.
Jane was afraid she would have to take the drastic measure of requesting an audience with Lord Saybrook when she learned from Mrs. Fairchild that he would indeed be attending the fair.
“Oh yes, he’ll be there,” said the older woman one night after dinner in response to Jane’s question. “Old Squire Hawkins stopped yesterday to remind Mr. Edward. Oh, he tried to make an excuse, but the Squire would hear none of it. He was a friend of Mr. Edward’s father and has known His Lordship since he was in short coats. He reminded him of his duty—he must be there for the blessing of the wheat.”
Jane smiled to herself. The children’s riding came right after that. It was perfect. She had merely to inform before the ceremony that he should take a few minutes to watch his nephew.
* * * *
The day of the fair dawned bright and clear. Jane smiled as Peter tried to contain his excitement. High boots, proper breeches and a velvet collared riding jacket had been unearthed from one of the myriad trunks in the attics. With his carefully combed hair and neat cap the boy was the picture of a little gentleman. Mrs. Fairchild and Cook, as well as Henry, had been let in on the plan and were as excited as Peter. They fussed over him throughout the meal, assuring him that he would acquit himself splendidly.
They were all careful to remain in the kitchen to avoid the off chance of running into His Lordship and giving away the surprise.
It seemed like ages, thought Jane as she smoothed the skirt of her gown—oh, what she wouldn’t give for a proper riding habit— before Henry knocked at the scullery door to tell them that the master had ridden off and the coast was clear. It had been arranged that he would accompany them to the fair so that she would be free to seek out Lord Saybrook. Their horses were already saddled, and Jane was relieved to see that Peter’s pony, Tarquin, was as placid as ever, having sensed none of the nervous excitement in the air that was making the other mounts tug restlessly at the reins held by one of the grooms.
She was also happy to see that Peter showed no hesitation or last minute nerves as Henry lifted him into the saddle. There was only a look of anticipation on his face. Jane too, felt caught up in the same mood. Lost in her own reveries, she barely took notice of the spirited banter between Henry and Peter. It was only with a start that she realized they had arrived at the fair. They halted near a large paddock where the riding competition would be held. She guided her horse next to Peter’s and, leaning over, she put her hand over one of his sm
all ones. She looked into his eyes and smiled, then gave him a squeeze. He smiled back.
She dismounted, leaving her horse and Peter in Henry’s care, and walked towards the crowd of people milling around the rough stage erected for the fair. It should be no trouble to find Lord Saybrook—she had already seen the big black stallion tethered away from the other horses.
Indeed it was no trouble at all. A quick glance showed the top of his brushed beaver hat towering above the group of local squires with whom he was engaged. She noted the lazy way he leaned against the stage, his carved whip tapping his polished boot as if to punctuate his boredom as he listened to the conversation. Now and then he would smile faintly and reply to some comment, but for the most part he stood silent, aloof.
A rustling at the podium indicated that the local parson was preparing to deliver his little speech, so the group of gentry began to drift away from the stage to take up position with the rest of the crowd. Jane took the opportunity to approach Lord Saybrook.
“Excuse me, my lord.” She stepped directly in his path so he was obliged to stop.
“Ah, Miss…Langley.” It was said as if he was struggling to remember just who she was. He gave her a pointed look, taking in her dowdy gown, unflattering bonnet and most particularly the spectacles perched on her nose. “Pray, what is it?”
Despite herself, Jane felt a flush of embarrassment steal over her in response to his scrutiny. It quickly turned to anger—damn the man, she fumed. How did he always manage to irritate her so quickly? But remembering her purpose, she reined in her temper and spoke.
“It is your ward, Peter, sir. He is to ride in the children’s competition...”
Saybrook’s eyebrow shot up. “You must be joking, Miss Langley. Peter is terrified of horses.”
“Was,” corrected Jane, a little more sharply than she intended. “Peter was terrified of horses, as was only natural. But he has overcome his fear. It would be…very much appreciated if you would be present to watch him.”
A portly gentleman with wispy grey hair and a reddened face that bespoke of too much claret was gesturing at Saybrook with the tip of his gold chased cane. Beside him, two ladies looking dreadfully out of place in the latest London fashions added their smiles to the gentleman’s entreaties.
Saybrook nodded his greetings. “Thank you, Miss Langley. Now, if you will excuse me.” He turned and walked to meet the other group.
Jane could barely restrain from directing a kick at his well-tailored behind. Dismissed again in such an insolent manner! Well, at least she had accomplished her task. It was really of no consequence how he treated her as long as Peter was happy.
The parson had begun to speak and she remained where she was, casting a sideways look every so often at Saybrook and his friends. After exchanging pleasantries, he had graceful stepped into the proffered space between the two ladies. On second glance one of them appeared much older than the other. Mother and daughter, she guessed. Or mother, daughter and father she added to herself. No doubt they were angling after the marquess, judging from the effusive smiles and simpering manner of the ladies. With his title and lands he would be quite a catch on the Marriage Mart. The fact that he had been abroad for so long accounted for the fact that she had not known who he was.
Her thoughts were interrupted by the crowd beginning to move off as the parson finished his speech. The smell of savory pies filled the air, as did the lilting notes of the fiddlers. Farmers drifted to the exhibition of livestock while their wives and children clustered around displays of ribbons and candy. Jane stayed where she was. She had always enjoyed the sights and sounds of a country fair and was now taking a moment to drink it all in. And of course she had to admit that she wanted the satisfaction of seeing the haughty Marquess accede to her request.
To her shock, however, she saw him move off with the gentleman and two ladies, not in the direction of the riding but towards an area where long trestle tables had been set up next to a group of laughing farmhands dispensing ale and mulled cider. She remained rooted to the ground for a moment, unable to believe that anyone could be so selfish and cruel. In her mind’s eye, she could picture the look of dejection on Peter’s face, the slump of the frail shoulders so used to disappointment. It goaded her into action.
With nary a regard for the propriety of her actions she hurried after His Lordship’s party. Coming up close behind them, she called out firmly, “Lord Saybrook, may I have a word with you—in private.”
All four people turned around, different degrees of surprise registering on their faces.
The gentleman frowned at Jane’s audacity while his wife exclaimed,” Well, I never... Who is this woman?”
Saybrook had a faintly sardonic smile on his face as he seemed to ponder just how great a scene Jane would cause if he refused her request. “My ward’s governess.”
“Such manners! Turn her out instantly,” said the woman as if Jane wasn’t there. “I shall be more than happy to give you my recommendations...”
Saybrook interrupted her. “I trust you will excuse me for a moment.”
The woman sniffed in the air and turned on her heel, taking her husband by the arm. As the younger woman turned as well, Jane realized with a start that she knew her. Lady Matilda Farrington. A flighty, insipid girl now entering her second Season. Jane had seen her at various routs and ball, and of course Almack’s, and had disliked her instantly. The girl was one of those creatures who flirted shamelessly with gentleman with a title, young or old. There was no need to fear recognition, however. Lady Matilda didn’t even deign to look at her as she lifted her elegant skirts and swooshed after her parents.
Saybrook followed Jane a little ways off, out of hearing of anyone around them. Still white hot with pent-up anger, Jane launched into a tirade with not a thought as to what she was saying.
“It is beyond belief,” she hissed, “that one man can be so selfish, so unfeeling, so…monstrous! Whether you choose to treat your acquaintances and your servants with disdain—oh, I see the haughty sneer on your face—is entirely your own concern. But that you would deliberately hurt a child is outside of enough! Are you too blind to see that Peter is craving for your notice, for your approval, though Lord knows why. If you don’t take a few minutes of your precious time to do your duty as a guardian...” She was so beside herself that she didn’t know quite how to finish the sentence. “OOOh,” she sputtered, “If I was a man, I‘d horsewhip you!”
Saybrook had gone rigid and his face was absolutely drained of color.
“And you needn’t bother telling me I’m turned out!” she added. “I will pack immediately.”
Turning on her heel, she stalked off, not bothering to note the Marquess’s reaction. Now that she had vented her anger she felt drained, almost too weak to walk. But she took a deep breath and kept her chin up, refusing to let him see her waver.
She made her way to where Henry had tethered the horses. Had she really said such things to the marquess? She was lucky he hadn’t called the constables to haul her off to Bedlam. With a sigh, she had to admit that her brother was right—there were times when she could be quite…rash.
Before mounting, she looked to where the riding competition was taking place. Peter was in the middle of the ring, trotting in a neat circle. She felt a rush of pride at how straight he sat in the saddle and how well he guided his pony. From the corner of her eye she saw Saybrook leaning stiffly against the fence, watching as well. So, at least she had accomplished something other than getting turned out without references! Peter would be in raptures, no matter that it was a false happiness.
The judges suddenly motioned Peter towards a little jump standing at one end of the ring. Jane bit her lip in alarm. Peter had never attempted such a thing, but he was cantering towards it with nary a hesitation. Up went Tarquin, and for a moment it seemed that the boy would be left behind. But he regained his balance and kept his seat. The small crowd burst into applause. So did Saybrook. Peter reined in close to his gu
ardian, a shy smile on his face. To her great surprise, the marquess vaulted over the fence and patted Peter on his thigh. Even from where she was, she could see the happiness on the boy’s face. Well, she thought, at least the Marquess could do his duty handsomely if he tried.
Peter was awarded a blue ribbon, then walked his horse, with Saybrook still at its head, towards where the Marquess’s own stallion was tethered. Jane sighed and mounted her own horse. She had enjoyed it at Highwood. Now what was she to do? On the ride back, she rued her blasted quick tongue. Once again, it had landed her in the suds.
* * * *
Jane sat on her bed surveying the meager pile of belonging ready to be packed in her small trunk. She suddenly realized that she had not enough money for the coach ride back to her father’s estate, even if she took outside passage. Certainly, there was nothing for an inn. To be sure she was owed some amount for the time she had spent at Highwood, but she could not bring herself to ask Lord Saybrook for anything. With a slight frown of dismay she wondered whether she might have to sleep in a field tonight. And she hadn’t even decided if she would go home in any case—but what was she to do?
In the middle of mulling over the problem, a knock came at the door. She sighed and bid whomever it was to enter. Perhaps Mrs. Fairchild had heard of her firing and had come to say goodbye. If so, Jane decided that she might be able to bring herself to borrow a few shilling from her. But most likely it was a footman, ready to toss her out the door, she thought glumly. Which was no doubt what she deserved.
The Defiant Governess Page 6
