To Love a Governess

by Josi S. Kilpack

  “Dina?”

  She shot to her feet, startled eyes locked on David’s face. Had she conjured him through her thoughts? That she hadn’t felt the change in air bespoke of how very desolate she was feeling.

  “Are you all right?”

  She tried to blink back the tears, but seeing him standing there looking at her with so much compassion drew the emotion from her even more. She wiped at her eyes quickly. Grandfather had had no patience for tears, and she’d learned to keep her own counsel rather than burden anyone else with it. Burden. There was that word again. That place she felt she’d held in the lives of people around her all of her life. “You should not be here,” Dina said, looking around the hallway to reassure herself that they were alone.

  “I only wanted to speak with you for a moment. We did not have a chance to talk after the excursion yesterday.”

  Dina looked at the floor. “There is nothing to talk about.”

  “You seemed upset by the situation regarding Miss Johansson.”

  Miss Johansson and Mr. Littlefield, she amended in her mind.

  “Were you . . . concerned for her?” he asked after she did not respond.

  She sniffed and wished for a handkerchief only moments before he handed one to her. She ran her finger over the linen, remembering how she and Mrs. Macarthur had laughed over Mr. Littlefield having two handkerchiefs yesterday. It felt so long ago.

  “Weren’t you concerned?” she said after drying her cheeks.

  “Yes,” he said, letting out a sigh of what sounded like relief. His shoulders relaxed and his eyebrows came together, the familiar single crease between them. “This house party is one of the first opportunities I’ve had to be in company with Miss Johansson daily and . . .”

  It was? He didn’t know her?

  The silence ticked between them for several seconds until Dina could not support it. “And?”

  He turned to feign inspection of a painting hung in the hall. “There are people who feel too much time with someone before vows are made to solidify your commitments can lead to unnecessary questioning of one’s choice. They would have one believe that only after the vows are made is anyone able to adequately find a balance of feeling toward their husband or wife from which love can grow.”

  Dina suspected that counsel to have come from his mother.

  He continued to inspect the painting, and she took a step toward him, stopping a few feet behind him, breathing in the air surrounding him and wishing she knew what to say. Wishing she could save him without hurting him.

  “I think you deserve to be happy in your choice, whatever choice that is, David,” Dina said, trying so hard to be fair in her advice. She wanted to reach out, touch his shoulder, turn him to face her.

  “And if it is too late for that?” He turned, startling when he realized she was so close. She didn’t step back even though she knew that she should. He did not move away from her the way he had by the druid stones when a very similar feeling had passed between them. When he spoke, his voice was no more than a whisper. “I have made an offer of marriage, Dina. She is everything a man in my position could want in a wife.”

  “Unless you don’t trust her.”

  “Do you trust her?”

  “My trust does not factor, but you should not ignore your own lack if that is what you are feeling. And you deserve to be happy in the life you live.”

  “As you are happy in yours?”

  Ouch. She was happy, as she’d told him during their first exchange in the yard, but she could not deny any longer that it was an incomplete pleasure. She also could not separate what she wanted from what was best for him the way she once had.

  “I cannot be your confidante on this, David.” She took a breath in an attempt to keep her voice from shaking. “I wish that I could, but it is . . . too complicated.”

  “You saw everyone’s reaction yesterday, Dina.” He pointed toward the stairs that led to the rest of the party somewhere in the house. “Each one of them pretended not to think what every one of us thought when we realized Fiona and Littlefield were missing. They acted as though it did not happen at all. I tried to talk to Mary this morning, and she turned the subject, which is why I am here because I need help to make sense of this, and you may be the only friend I have left who will give me an honest answer.”

  Dina swallowed, completely caught between what was right and what was acceptable. He began to turn, and she gave in.

  “I believe she is being unfaithful to you with Mr. Littlefield.” She covered her mouth as soon as the words were out. David froze in his turn, eyes on the floor. Without turning his body, he looked at her. Stared. A hundred thoughts behind his eyes were impossible for her to interpret. Good heavens, what was she doing? Yet she was in for a pound now. She lowered her hand. “I saw them go into the woods together Saturday afternoon when the men had gone out to the archery range and I was changing my dress. Their explanations yesterday felt like playacting to me, but . . .” Her courage, or perhaps folly, ran through.

  “What?” he said in a tired and terse tone. “But what?”

  “But I have no proof and fear I am seeing what is not there because of my own . . . protective feelings toward you. I want you to be happy, David. I swear that is all I have ever wanted.” She hated how much she sounded like his mother.

  He took a breath and looked forward again, his face in profile as he thought over what she’d said. She held her breath. Would he believe her? Would he show his thanks by taking her in his arms?

  “Thank you, Dina,” he said without looking at her. Then he turned and made his way to the stairs that took him away and left her to her burning stomach and flowing tears.

  An hour after David had left her, with her stomach still in knots and her better judgement berating her, there was a knock at the nursery door. She turned from where she and the girls were studying a map of England laid out on the floor and braced herself for another visitor she was ill prepared to receive.

  Instead, Lydia, the maid who looked over the children when Dina could not, stepped into the room and held out a card. Dina did not receive many formal notes and took the paper from the girl’s hand with some hesitation. She unfolded the unsealed letter and recognized David’s hand.

  Cullodina,

  Mary is going to invite you to join the party for dinner. I pray that you will attend despite your desire to remain apart. It would mean a great deal to me to have you there.

  Yours,

  David

  CHAPTER TEN

  Within half an hour of David’s note, Mary appeared to issue an invitation that Dina join them for dinner. She looked surprised when Dina accepted without any of the arguments she had made previously.

  “All right, then,” Mary said, confused and pleased all at the same time. “Come to the drawing room at seven.”

  Lydia arrived a half an hour later to care for the girls so that Dina could get ready. She had only one dress appropriate for a formal dinner, a navy silk she’d only worn a handful of times over the years. She added her mother’s pearl earrings and the string of pearls that did not quite match since they were from her father’s mother. She did not own any elbow-length gloves, but Mary loaned her a pair of silver ones that completed the ensemble well enough, though certainly not in fashion or at the level of the other women. But then again, she was not like the other women.

  Her hair was more complication than she knew how to remedy. She did not dare attempt a style that might, like yesterday, fail her, and yet to wear her governess knot made her feel dowdy. She finally asked Lydia to help her, though it was not Lydia’s place to help another servant and it made Dina feel incompetent. Lydia kept her own thoughts to herself as she twisted and tucked and pinned. The result was a soft sweeping style that twisted into a bun and left a few tendrils on either side of her face. She shook her head, nodded quickly, and jumped up and down until Lydia began to laugh behind her hand.

  “I need to make sure it will stay.”

&n
bsp; “You are having dinner, not taking a daytrip on horseback.”

  Dina smiled, glad to have had something to smile about before going into the lion’s den that awaited her. “Thank you, Lydia.”

  “Of course.”

  Lydia returned to the girls, and Dina made her way down the stairs when she heard the clock striking seven. Mary was waiting for her and took her into conversation with Mrs. Havershorn as though she knew that the other guests were rather terrifying for Dina to attempt conversation with. She felt as out of place as a pickle in a pudding but kept a smile on her face and participated just enough without drawing any unnecessary attention to herself. As soon as Miss Johansson spotted her, she flounced across the room to her, put her arm through Dina’s, and expressed her delight at Dina’s joining them. David met her eye from the other side of the room and gave her the slightest nod of acknowledgment but no indication of why he’d wanted her to come. When Mrs. Macarthur entered the drawing room with Lady Clairmont and met Dina’s eyes, her expression grew instantly tight. Dinner was announced a moment later, and Mr. Jennings appeared at Dina’s side to escort her to the dining room. Acting that she was comfortable was no remedy to her anxiety, however, and she felt sure that everyone could see how uncomfortable she felt.

  Once seated at the table, Dina managed to hold up her ends of conversation with Mr. Donning and Mrs. Havershorn seated on either side of her through the first two courses. Miss Johansson spoke with David’s mother, who was clearly charmed by her, which made Dina even more embarrassed. If Mrs. Macarthur learned that Dina had told David . . . the potential fury made it difficult for Dina to hold her soup spoon.

  The footmen moved forward to remove the salad plates and replace them with the entrée—braised beef with bourbon sauce. Each member of the dinner party resumed their silver, creating a natural break in conversation. “Miss Cameron,” Miss Johansson suddenly said loudly enough to engage the entire table.

  Dina looked up, fork and knife poised over her plate and cheeks hot at having been singled out by Miss Johansson yet again. Her hands clenched around her utensils as though they offered some defense.

  “Will you join us for the trip to Bradford tomorrow? The Havershorns are coming this time, but Mrs. Macarthur is unable. With Mr. Dewberry having had to return to London today, we are out of balance.”

  She smiled sweetly, her pretty face bright and hopeful. Dina felt herself tighten even more, certain this woman had a motive other than Dina’s inclusion, though she couldn’t guess at what it could be. “I am afraid I have responsibilities I must see to,” Dina said evenly. Under no circumstances would she join another outing.

  “I’m sure Mary would approve an afternoon off, wouldn’t you, Mary? How often will there be a house party in want of your company, after all? Is there not a maid who—”

  “I do not wish to join the party,” Dina said so quickly it sounded like a snap, though that wasn’t her intention. Or, well, she hadn’t thought that would be her intention.

  The table went still, and Miss Johansson looked taken aback.

  “Thank you, all the same.” Dina turned her attention back to her plate that could have been filled with sawdust for all the enjoyment she was taking from the meal. The sound of her knife and fork on the plate sounded like a sword against armor in the silence of the dining room, and her face burned in humiliation. She should have refused this invitation—what had David been thinking?

  “It is but one afternoon,” Miss Johansson said with a tight laugh in her voice. “Surely there—”

  Some measure of tension in Dina burst so distinctly, she felt sure she heard the pop like the cork on a bottle of champagne. “I have no interest in yer forays, Miss Johansson, and pray you will leave me be. I am not yer equal or yer friend and never will be. I do not know why I am even here.” She pushed back from the table and stood amid open mouths and wide eyes around the table. She only needed to keep the absolute embarrassment at bay long enough to make her escape. Then she could let the regret for her rudeness flood in.

  “Sit down, Cullodina.”

  Every head swiveled to look at David, who sat tall in his chair at the other side of the table and had such an expression of calm authority that one would think this were his table.

  He softened his expression and smiled. “Please.”

  The uncomfortable silence stretched tight across the room as Dina returned to her chair, though her body remained tense with expectation. David turned to look at Miss Johansson. “Is your insistence at including Dina in our forays based on the hope that she will distract me from what is happening between you and Mr. Littlefield?”

  A combined gasp punched the air, and though Dina had not contributed to the group response, her stomach dropped, and her mouth fell open. Miss Johansson sat frozen, her face an increasing shade of pink. Mr. Littlefield shifted. Mr. Donning sat back in his chair and swirled his wine in his cup as though settling in to watch a cricket match.

  “It certainly worked yesterday,” David said, picking up his wine glass and taking a sip. He put the cup down hard on the table, causing the guests to startle like popcorn around the table.

  Mrs. Macarthur was the first to speak. “David, such things are not meant for a dinner table.”

  David’s eyes moved from Miss Johansson’s reddening face to his mother’s. “What you should say right now, Mother, is that such things are not meant to happen. Where they are discussed seems a paltry detail in light of the fact that the woman I have pledged to share a life with is nicking off with one of my oldest friends.”

  “You are misinformed, Macarthur,” Mr. Littlefield said, almost under his breath but meant to be heard.

  David leaned to the left so as to turn in his seat and see his friend across a few other guests. “Am I? Please correct me, then.”

  “I think quite highly of Miss Johansson, of course, but I have not been nicking off with her. Whoever said as much must have an agenda all their own.” He looked directly at Dina as though issuing a challenge. The anxiety Dina had been feeling, however, was actually lessening. A monster in the light was less frightening than the same menace in the dark, and though David had chosen to address this in a completely unconventional way, it was honest. “I know all about the affair in London and—”

  “This is ridiculous and without basis,” Mrs. Macarthur interrupted. “I suggest we all retire for the evening, get some rest, and speak with cooler heads tomorrow.”

  “If anyone has seen something that raises questions about Miss Johansson and Mr. Littlefield, I beg of you to tell me.” David looked at each person around the table. “Please.”

  “David!” Mrs. Macarthur shouted as she stood abruptly. “I would like to speak to you alone.”

  David squared his shoulders and looked hard at his mother. “No, Mother. I have asked for some help from my friends to make sense of what is happening. I will stay through to the end.”

  “I will not be party to this . . . this slander and low discussion. It is not done!”

  “I have not been sleeping well,” Mrs. Havershorn suddenly said in her soft voice, turning all heads to her as though she’d screamed it. She looked equal parts terrified and regretful as she met David’s eyes. “I sometimes find that walking helps to ease the tightness in my back and was walking the halls Sunday night when I heard a door open. I stepped into a doorway, not wanting to be discovered in my dressing gown. I do not think Mr. Littlefield saw me when he hurried past, but I thought it odd since his bedchamber is in the east wing.”

  “Miss Johansson’s bedchamber is near your own, is it not?” Mary asked, her voice timid.

  Mrs. Havershorn nodded, her expression sad.

  “You are mistaken,” Mr. Littlefield said, a forced laugh in his voice. “I was playing cards with Mr. Dewberry late into the night—it could not have been me you saw.”

  “How convenient that the man who can account for your whereabouts is not here,” David said.

  “He may not be here,” Mr. Haversho
rn cut in, “but he pointed out to me before he left this morning that Mr. Littlefield did not join us for some time at the archery range on Saturday. He also saw the two of them in the foyer before the rest of the group arrived for yesterday’s excursion standing closer than he thought appropriate. After they were both discovered missing, he felt very uncomfortable about it all. That is why he left early for London.”

  “That is nothing but hearsay,” Mrs. Macarthur spat, glaring at the man from where she still stood. She slapped the table with her hand, causing the dishes to jump and settle in a momentary cacophony of porcelain, glass, and silver. She turned toward Lady Clairmont. “Will you not defend your daughter’s honor and put an end to this, Lady Clairmont?”

  Lady Clairmont took a breath and then pushed back from the table. A footman hurried to help her. She stood, placed her serviette carefully on the chair, and looked at her red-faced daughter, who shrank beneath her mother’s gaze, shoulders curling inward as she lowered her head. “I had hoped a man of good character would put an end to these trysts, Fiona.” She then looked at David’s mother, who looked ready to topple over. “I told you from the start, Carolyn, that my daughter has not managed her behavior well, though she plays the part of innocence to perfection. I had hoped that the attention of a good man such as David would be an opportunity for her to be a better woman than she has been, but it seems she is determined to humiliate all of us.” She looked at David and smiled sadly as tears rose in her eyes. “I am so sorry, Mr. Macarthur. Perhaps you and I can speak in the morning and settle the particulars. I shall do all I can to keep you from being maligned.” She lifted her chin and turned from the table.

  Mr. Littlefield also stood. He said nothing and did not look at any of them, not even Miss Johansson, as he turned and left the room. David’s mother was still fish gaping at the departing company when Miss Johansson pushed back quickly from the table. David’s eyes fixed on her as she began to rise. “Stay,” he said simply, more pleading than demanding. She swallowed, glanced at the door Mr. Littlefield had disappeared through, but did as he said. Her chin began to tremble, and tears welled in her bright blue eyes that until now had only ever been jolly and eager.