The Governess of Penwythe Hall

by Sarah E. Ladd

  He donned his wide-brimmed hat and shoved some papers into his satchel. He fiddled with a loose button on his summer coat—he needed to ask Mrs. Bishop to tighten it—when a light, feminine voice echoed in the corridor.

  He stopped short. He could not make out the words, but even so, he didn’t recognize the tone. It was not Mrs. Greythorne, nor was it one of the Collivers. What reason would any other woman have to call here at this time of day?

  Jac did not have to wait long, for within moments a tap sounded at his study door. He looked up to see a tall lady filling the door frame, and his countenance sobered.

  There was no denying her identity.

  Beatrice Lambourne—the children’s maternal aunt.

  He supposed he shouldn’t be surprised, for after everything that had happened since the children’s arrival, nothing was normal. Not anymore.

  “Well, well, Mr. Twethewey.” She raised her chin high as she swept into the room. She looked down her straight nose in his direction. “We meet again. How long has it been? A decade at least.”

  The rustling of her taffeta gown was loud in the small chamber, and all he could do was stare at the little dog tucked in the crook of her arm.

  He was used to people of all sorts coming into this chamber for one reason or another, and normally he knew just what to say, or at least how to proceed, but he was not sure what to make of the woman whose bonnet boasted an uncanny number of feathers. He stood and leaned to the left to see behind her. Surely her husband was with her, or at least a companion of some sort. But he saw none.

  He cleared his throat and bowed. She was, after all, his late sister-in-law’s sister. She was no stranger, not really, and a visit was entirely proper. “Mrs. Lambourne. What a surprise.”

  The tiny dog barked, and she patted his head with her gloved hand before looking at his coat. “Your coat is dirty.”

  He looked down to the dust on his shoulder and brushed it away. “My apologies. This is a working farm, Mrs. Lambourne. I have been in the fields. I wasn’t expecting company.”

  “Working in the fields? Oh, that will not do.”

  The small dog barked again, the pitch of it strumming Jac’s already tight nerves.

  “Don’t mind Oscar.” She stroked his ear. “He isn’t fond of strangers.”

  A dozen sarcastic retorts bounced in his mind, but instead he muttered, “Please, won’t you be seated?” He tugged the bell pull to call for tea and waited for her to be settled in her chair, then sat opposite of her. “It has been a long time, Mrs. Lambourne. What brings you to Penwythe?”

  A coy smile curved her lips, and she met his gaze directly. “Come now. Surely my visit isn’t that unexpected. I believe my nieces and nephews are here, are they not?”

  He shifted uncomfortably. “They are indeed.”

  “I’m surprised how quiet it is here. Not a child to be seen or heard? Do you have them tucked away somewhere? I assume Mrs. Greythorne is tending them.”

  “Actually, Mrs. Greythorne is away from Penwythe at the moment. A family illness has called her to her family’s home in the south. But she should return in the near future.”

  “Oh?” Mrs. Lambourne shot him a sour look. “So there is no governess right now? And I heard about that business with the tutor—what was his name? That is very odd. You must be beside yourself.”

  He shifted, anger rising within him. How exactly did she receive her information? “I assume you’re here to visit them.”

  “Of course I am,” she said, almost with a hint of amusement in her voice. “I delayed my visit for as long as respectable. After all, I wanted to give you all time to make the best of this arrangement. But I grew concerned when I heard the reports about Randall’s trust. All that money, gone. What odd business that is. I can’t imagine what a shock that must have been for you.”

  His stomach sank. The pompous air about her was nearly as suffocating as the lily-of-the-valley scent that wafted from her. He shouldn’t have been surprised that news of the lost trust would spread, especially to her, since she was family. He did not want to discuss it, though. Not with her—not with anyone. “Is your family traveling with you?”

  “No. They’ve remained in London, for I do not intend to stay in the country long. While I am here, I need to see for myself that the children are well tended. I owe that, at the very least, to my late sister. And as you know, I am very great friends with Mrs. Colliver. She has written and tells me that the children have displayed shocking behavior.”

  He glared at her but pressed his lips shut. Mrs. Colliver. Suddenly Mrs. Lambourne’s presence here made sense. She had to be referring to Liam’s outburst in his early days at Penwythe.

  “She also told me that you quite fancy yourself the farmer, growing apples and trees and things. I suppose every man needs a hobby.”

  He drew a deep breath at the insult, letting it roll off him.

  She stood, the fabric of her gown rustling ridiculously loudly, and the dog in her arm growled. She ignored it and paced toward the window. “Death and dying is sad business. But it’s a part of life, is it not? And neither of us is a stranger to it. Allow me to be frank, Mr. Twethewey.” She turned to face him once again. “You can imagine my surprise to learn that the children were left to your guardianship. My sister had always made it clear that if anything were to happen to them, the children would come to be in my care. I’m not sure what events led to the change in Randall’s decision.”

  “We may never know the reason for that.”

  “Reason or not, I have great affection for them and have seen them often over the last several years. You’ve not seen them since Jonathon was born, and he is quite a young man now. So how is it that your brother suddenly changed his mind and altered his will? It makes no sense.”

  “I asked Mr. Steerhead the same question, and he had no answer.”

  “Mr. Steerhead is a useless puppet,” she snipped. “I’ll not say something about a man behind his face that I’d not say directly to him, so I will tell you plainly. The gossip is all over the important circles of London. Randall was supremely wealthy, and now Mr. Steerhead is nowhere to be found. Mr. Steerhead stole every last farthing from Randall, mark my words, and you’ll ne’er see any of it. I’ve also heard about your financial situation. Penwythe is barely surviving as it is, and now the girls have no dowry. And what are you going to do for them? Grow apples and hope for the best? No. No, that will not do. Not for my sister’s children.”

  Her words pricked his pride. Some things may have been out of his control, but he could provide for the children. He was not destitute. Not yet. “Mrs. Lambourne, I understand you are concerned, but everything is under control.”

  “And you’ve dismissed Mr. Simon, and Mrs. Greythorne is nowhere to be found?” She ignored his attempt to soothe her. “Oh yes, I know. Mrs. Colliver has kept me apprised of it all. One might think you are allowing the children to run amuck, and Randall never would have approved of such negligence.”

  His voice grew firmer. “The children are well cared after, and like I said, we expect Mrs. Greythorne will return any day.”

  “Will she? Do you really think a woman in a paid position such as a governess would come running back when she has family to care for her? What woman would choose that for herself? This is all quite distressing.”

  He gritted his teeth. “There is no need for you to worry. I think we are doing quite well.”

  “Quite well?” She shook her head, her earbobs swinging with the motion. “No, no. I propose that the children come and live with me in London for now, and then they can go with us to the country for the winter. Their lifestyle will be much more in line with what they are used to.”

  The realization of how much he cared for the children ripped through him like a bolt of lightning through a summer sky. They had become a part of Penwythe—a part of him. He was not the same man he was even three months ago, and he never wanted to go back to being that man again.

  He fixed h
is hard stare on her. “The children are staying here.”

  She opened her mouth to interrupt, but he raised his hand to silence her. “Contrary to what you may think, I do love the children, and they are happy here.”

  “But consider, you’re a young man. Surely you wish to marry one day, to start a family of your own. That would be an adjustment. Don’t flatter yourself into thinking that you will breeze through it with nary a care in the world. Think of your future wife. Do you wish to bring her into this?”

  Almost as if on cue, the children’s voices echoed from the front courtyard, and he glanced out the window. They were walking with Andrews, who was no doubt returning them from their riding lessons.

  Mrs. Lambourne pivoted at the sound. “Ah! The children. At least now I will be able to judge their state for myself.”

  Without waiting for him, she, along with Oscar, swept from the study and made her way through the corridor. He quickened his steps behind her. The heavy door to the entrance hall creaked open, and the children bustled in, all light and laughter. Johnny raced ahead, his face flushed from the day’s warmth, and the two younger girls were chattering with each other, each one giggling.

  Julia stopped short upon seeing her aunt, and a smile lit her face. “Aunt Beatrice!” She ran to her aunt and threw her arms around her.

  Jac watched the others carefully for their reactions. Hannah rushed to Mrs. Lambourne as well, but the boys lagged behind, and Sophy held Liam’s hand.

  “What a surprise!” exclaimed Julia. “How did you know where to find us?”

  “Why, Mr. Steerhead, of course. When I heard of your father’s death, I wrote to him straightaway to inquire after you.” Mrs. Lambourne took Julia’s hand in hers and gently led the children through the great hall to the drawing room, as authoritative and determined as if she were the lady of the home. “Oh, dears, I am so sorry for what you have endured. What a loss! How are you coping?”

  Julia glanced at her brothers and sisters. “We are well. All of us. Did you bring Jane with you?”

  Jac wasn’t sure who Jane was, and it reminded him just how little he knew about the lives of the children entrusted to his care.

  “No, she’s at home with your cousins. I only came to visit your uncle, and you all, of course.”

  “Why did it take so long for you to come?”

  At Julia’s question, Jac winced. Had they been anticipating her arrival? He remained quiet, waiting for her response.

  “My darling, I would have come straightaway to comfort you, but I wanted to give you time to adjust here.” Mrs. Lambourne looked over to Sophy. “Sophia, come here, child.”

  Initially Sophy did not release Liam’s hand, but after several seconds she dropped her hand to her side and inched forward. After a stiff embrace, Mrs. Lambourne held Sophy at arm’s length. “But where are your mourning clothes?”

  “Mrs. Greythorne said we could go to half mourning. See the shawl?” She lifted her lace shawl. “It’s black.”

  Mrs. Lambourne tsked. “But it hasn’t been long enough!” She shook her head. “Tell me, do you miss Easten Park?”

  Her words hung heavy in the air. Jac held his breath.

  “Well, do you?” the older woman prompted again.

  The children exchanged glances. Johnny leaned against the sofa’s arm. “I miss Papa.”

  Mrs. Lambourne deposited Oscar in Hannah’s arms and lifted her brows with excitement. “Tell me, children, wouldn’t you like to come with me to London?”

  Hannah snapped her eyes toward Jac. “Leave Penwythe Hall?”

  “Of course!” Mrs. Lambourne’s loud voice filled the room. “You could always visit Penwythe Hall, of course, whenever you wanted to, but London is much more suitable.”

  Jac wanted to intervene—to make her stop talking about leaving Penwythe. But he remained silent. He wanted to hear their honest responses.

  “But Mrs. Greythorne wouldn’t know where to find us if we left,” Sophy interjected.

  Mrs. Lambourne gave her head a sharp shake. “My dears, if you are waiting for Mrs. Greythorne’s return to bring you happiness and contentment, you should reconsider. She’s an employee, nothing more. Besides, if she really wanted to be with you, she’d be your governess wherever you lived, even in London. Did you not believe your tutor to be loyal, and now where is he? No, my dears, it is best to set your sights and hopes on blood relatives.”

  Jac’s temper simmered at the derogatory words about Mrs. Greythorne. The concern on the children’s faces tore at him. Eager to offer the children solace, he said, “Mrs. Greythorne gave her word that she would be back. And she will.”

  “Oh, and you are a great authority on the absent Mrs. Greythorne, I see.” Mrs. Lambourne laughed at her own ill-timed joke and turned toward Liam. “Tell me, has your uncle found you a new tutor?”

  Liam flicked his gaze toward Jac. “Not yet. But we have been busy helping Uncle Jac.”

  “La, child, you are not a common field hand. You are destined for greater things, like your papa.”

  The words were intended to sting, but Jac would not let them. He could stand no more. He stepped closer and placed a protective arm around Hannah, then put his hand on Liam’s shoulder. “Thank you for the offer for the children to join you in London, but they will be remaining at Penwythe. And the decision is final.”

  Chapter 36

  Prior to leaving Penwythe Hall, Delia had packed her black mourning gowns in anticipation of the inevitable. Now, more than a week later, the dark fabric felt stiff and scratchy against her skin.

  Two days had passed since Elizabeth’s death—forty-eight agonizing hours. Her heart was numb, and her head throbbed from all the tears she had shed. After spending weeks in her brother’s crowded house, she longed for peace and solitude. So she made her way to the garden.

  Roses, wild and untended, grew in the walled yard behind the vicarage, just along the main road and opposite the church. When she’d been young, she and Elizabeth would help their mother tend these very plants on long afternoons. With its walls of ivy-covered gray stone, the garden always seemed like another world. She would often disappear in here when she was younger, and now she wanted to do so to be alone in her grief.

  Delia clipped a dead stem from a rosebush that climbed the wall and added it to a pile of debris. Clearly her sister-in-law had neither the time nor the inclination to put forth any effort for the upkeep. The once-vibrant rosebushes were now thin and spindly, yet even so, brave, bold blooms clung to the stems.

  She wiped her brow with her forearm and glanced up toward the sun. It was hot, even more than usual, and her black gown added to the heat, but she was not ready to go back inside.

  She may have lived on this property at one time, but this modest vicarage, with its paned windows and slate roof just visible above the garden’s wall to her left, was clearly no longer her home. She was fond of her brother’s family, and they did make her feel welcome, but her heart ached for something familiar.

  The Twethewey children entered her mind for the hundredth time. How she missed them. Each child held a tender place in her heart, and a smile crossed her lips as she recalled Sophy’s insistent requests to visit the sea. Her smile faded as her thoughts turned to their uncle and the things that had been left unsaid before their last parting.

  She clipped another yellow bloom and added it to her basket when the sound of a gate drew her attention. Expecting it to be one of her nieces, she stood and wiped her hand on her work apron. She turned but stopped short.

  Thomas Greythorne, his fair hair vibrant from beneath his hat, stood in the gateway, and his brother, Henry, was just behind him.

  Panic skittered through her. Had grief conjured a nightmare? No, they were really here. She swallowed and glanced around. She was trapped in this tiny garden.

  And alone.

  That sickening, sly grin crossed Thomas’s face. “Your brother told me we could find you here.”

  Shock momentarily robbed her o
f speech. She stared at the brothers—alarmingly alike with their white-blond hair and piercing black eyes. They stood shoulder to shoulder, blocking her path to the garden gate.

  She knew what she had to do. She could show no weakness.

  Delia shifted her steely gaze from one brother to the other. “Why are you here?”

  Thomas smirked. “Come now. You really must work on your hospitality skills. We heard of your sister’s death, and we came to support our sister-in-law in her time of grief.”

  She lifted her chin, ignoring the wind whipping longs strands of hair in her face. “I fear your visit is in vain then, for I’m in no need of support.” She raised the hem of her skirt and began to brush past them toward the door, but Thomas caught her by the crook of her arm, halting her. She snapped her gaze upward. “Let go of me, if you please.”

  The brothers exchanged amused glances, and Thomas dropped her arm.

  Clearly they were not going to let her pass.

  With a sharp intake of breath, she backed away from them and adjusted her gardening basket on her arm, catching a glimpse of the sunlight reflecting off the shiny metal of her gardening shears. She could use them as a weapon, if need be.

  She returned her attention to her brothers-in-law. “It seems you are developing quite a habit of following me, Thomas.”

  “Not at all.” Thomas folded his thick arms over his chest and glowered down at her. “Like I said, we’ve come to offer our condolences. You will understand that our mother was unable to join us. Although I must say that after all that’s transpired, I am surprised to see you here. Given the circumstances around your departure, I mean.”

  “Of course I came back. My sister is dead.” She hardened her gaze.

  “So is our brother. And some would argue that you had a role to play in that.”

  Even after all this time, those words stung, their venom spreading through her with prickly pain.

  He stepped closer to her. The scent of brandy laced his breath, and tobacco smoke clung to the linen fabric of his coat. “You never were very good at hiding your thoughts. They write themselves on your face. Like now, for instance, I can plainly see that you want us to leave. We’ve shown up uninvited and ruined your gardening.”