The Headmistress (Ladies of Miss Bell's Finishing School Book 6)

by Elizabeth Johns

  “So much for chivalry,” he muttered. Oliver had never felt himself such a green youth as he did in that moment. They had only just become warm, now to find themselves wet and chilled in a snowbank. To make matters worse, he was splayed disgracefully on top of the lady. He looked down to ensure that Miss Bell was unharmed; her hood had somehow managed to slip off and her cap was wet with snow.

  Of course the mail coach decided to pull in at the same time and several passengers had noticed their accident and begun to gather. Oliver scooped Miss Bell up and all but tossed her into the carriage. He would ask forgiveness later.

  Chapter 3

  Hannah was definitely going to throw Jane into the snow—or at least pelt her hard with a snowball—as soon as she saw her. Not only had her head landed in a snow bank, it had landed in a pile of horse droppings. Now her cap was ruined and had had to be left behind. Not only that, her unruly curls were sticking out in a hundred directions and her bottom was aching with painful bruises. She would laugh about it later, she was sure.

  Poor Lord Wolford looked mortified. He had been trying to be chivalrous and had instead hurt her and deposited her in the wet snow. She could not look at him, or even speak through her chattering teeth. He had practically torn her cloak from her and replaced it with his own, but he was more embarrassed than she.

  She read a little more to him, but for a good remainder of the drive they both dozed. It was a welcome relief. All the camaraderie they had gained seemed to have diminished from the moment he landed on top of her in the snow.

  At length, she jolted awake to complete darkness and it took her a moment to remember where she was. A blast of cold air met her face and she shuddered involuntarily. Someone had opened the door to the carriage.

  “Miss Bell, we have arrived,” Lord Wolford said to her. He held out a hand to help her from the carriage. She was in so much pain she could hardly move, but she did not wish for him to know of her suffering.

  “What time is it?”

  “Almost midnight,” he said apologetically. “Tom Coachman and I did not want to risk getting caught in the storm again. We barely stayed ahead of it, and the reflection of the moonlight on the snow made it possible for us to continue.”

  “Is the household already abed?”

  “Not entirely. Lord Dunsmore and Jane are still awake.”

  Lord Dunsmore was here? Jane had failed to mention the new Marquess was to be here. Hannah tried to move and she cringed with pain.

  “You are hurt,” Lord Wolford said.

  “Only a little bruised and stiff from the journey,” she said dismissively. Doing her best to hide her pain, Hannah walked to the front door, where Jane was standing just inside—too far for the effort of hurling her friend into the snow.

  “Hannah!” Jane exclaimed, wrapping her in a hug. Despite the fact that Hannah would dearly love to wring her friend’s neck, it was so very good to see her. “Are you angry with me?” Jane asked with a merry laugh. “I knew you would not come if I told you.”

  “Probably not half as much as your brother is. The look on his face, when he arrived in Bath and realized what he was fetching for you, was priceless…”

  “It probably matched yours!” Jane giggled. “He has already rung a peal over my head.”

  Evidently, the scold had made quite the impression on her friend, Hannah thought sarcastically.

  “We are going to have so much fun,” Jane continued as she led Hannah thru the house as if it were not the middle of the night. Apparently, Jane still kept London hours.

  “You must admit, my brother is quite handsome, and though his conversation might be rusty, he can be quite charming when he tries.”

  “He told me I was as comfortable as his sheep,” Hannah blurted out, too late to think better of it.

  Jane almost doubled over with laughter. When she could speak again, she managed to say: “That is high praise indeed, coming from Oliver! Oh, I cannot wait to tease him!”

  “You would not dare, Jane Channing.”

  “Do not use your headmistress’s voice with me, Hannah. It won’t fadge. Besides, I have not been Jane Channing in over a decade.”

  “You do know I spoke in confidence.” It was not a question.

  “But this is my brother! Oh, very well. As long as he does not provoke me,” Jane agreed.

  Hannah gave her a look of disapproval, but Jane was totally immune to them.

  “I am so delighted you are here! I can tell you are exhausted. We will share all our news tomorrow. Hopefully, your trunks are here by now.”

  Hannah tried hard not to limp to her chambers. If Jane heard word of the accident, she would make too much of it. Thankfully, she had not remarked upon the raggedness of her friend’s appearance. Quelling the desire to gawp foolishly, Hannah could not remember the last time she had been a guest at such a place. Having arrived in darkness and under the shadow of the portico, she had not seen the outside, but the inside was fit for a king. Nothing else would do for Jane, Hannah mused. They climbed one side of a double marble staircase which curved up to a central balcony, there to diverge into wings. Boughs of holly were wrapped around the banister and tied with red ribbons, while wreaths of pine branches hung from the doors, filling the air with the scent of evergreen.

  “You have already begun the decorations, I see.”

  “Oh, yes! Tomorrow we will go and find a tree that we may decorate in the manner of Queen Charlotte. I had not counted on the snow, but how I do love to have a white Christmas! I did worry it would keep you from coming, of course,” Jane remarked with the frown, “but I knew Oliver would not fail me!”

  They reached a chamber and Jane opened the door. It was a beautiful, feminine room with a white coverlet and curtains and a thick rug of white wool interwoven with pale threads of green that matched the entwined vine pattern on the walls. A roaring fire was crackling in the hearth, and servants arrived shortly afterwards with pails of hot water for a bath.

  “You should not have troubled the servants at this hour,” Hannah scolded.

  “I did not,” Jane said, a look of confusion crumpling her still pretty countenance.

  “I must take the blame for that,” a deep voice said from behind them. They both turned to see Lord Wolford standing at the door. “Miss Bell suffered a hard fall on the ice due to my clumsiness, and I thought a warm bath would ease her pain.”

  “Goodness, Hannah! You did not mention it.”

  “You had the grace not to remark upon my appearance. Besides, it is nothing more than minor stiffness, I assure you. However, your consideration is greatly appreciated, my lord.”

  Jane was now looking back and forth between the two with a twinkle in her eye.

  “I bid you good night, then, Miss Bell,” he said. “I would speak with you at your convenience, dearest sister.”

  Jane turned to Hannah and looked heavenward with a mock exasperation her brother could not see. Hannah almost laughed at her friend’s expressiveness. At least that had not changed.

  “I will see you in the morning, dearest. Rest well, for we have a full day of festivities planned!” Jane kissed Hannah on the cheek before backing out of the room. The door closed with a click and Hannah eyed the bath with guilty pleasure. She had not imagined, for a moment, that Lord Wolford would have thought of her. It was a strange feeling to have people consider your needs. It was normally Hannah’s place to do such things, and for a great number of young ladies who were used to having their own way.

  She slipped off her creased, dirty gown and stepped into the tub of heaven. Perhaps it was all right to be pampered every now and then…as long as she did not allow herself to become accustomed to such luxuries.

  Oliver was certain he had never been so happy to arrive anywhere in his whole life. After falling atop Miss Bell, he could not stop thinking about her: how she felt, how she smelled like fresh soap and…well, to be truthful, she also smelled a little of horse droppings, but it did not detract from her charms. For the fi
rst time in his memory, he was tempted by a lady. His first marriage had been arranged by his father, and it had been as loveless as it had been dull. In the back of his mind, he knew he would eventually need to remarry to beget an heir, but London and its Marriage Mart repulsed him. Channing Park did not boast haut ton nor many eligible misses in the neighbourhood.

  Not surprisingly, Jane had shown no remorse for what she had done and merely catalogued Miss Bell’s many charms as if he could not see them for himself. Following a restless night spent worrying over Miss Bell and if he had hurt her more badly than she would admit, he rose early. Reluctantly, he acknowledged that her unruly chocolate-coloured curls and enchanting amber eyes might have had something to do with his wakefulness as well.

  The breakfast parlour was surprisingly full for such an early hour. Had Jane not said this would be a small gathering? There was quite a cast of characters present, including…

  “Father.” Oliver espied Kembleford, sitting at the table along with Dunsmore. How had Jane managed to convince the Duke to attend?

  “Good morning, Oliver. I am pleased to see you arrived safely.”

  “It was a close thing. Dunsmore.” Oliver inclined his head to the host, who had risen to greet him.

  “Are you acquainted with everyone present?” Dunsmore asked.

  Oliver looked around the table and recognized some of the faces. “Romsey, Allerton.” He greeted two gentlemen from his school days. Lord Romsey was closely aligned politically with Dunsmore, if he recalled correctly, and Lord Allerton was the heir to an old and prosperous earldom. In the meantime, he was raking the Town. “I have not had the pleasure of the young ladies’ acquaintance.” He heard a delicate snort from the direction of a lady of advanced years, who was dressed in a gown of purple satin more suited to the previous century.

  “I will keep this simple. Lord Wolford, may I present my aunt, the Dowager Duchess of Dunsmore and her daughter, Lady Mary. Lady Fanny Bishop, sister to my Lord Allerton,” Dunsmore said.

  “Ladies.” Oliver directed a bow to each of them. “Please do not let me keep you from your meal.”

  Oliver filled his plate from the lavish spread of kippers, bacon, sausages and eggs on the sideboard and sat next to his father. Jane and Miss Bell were conspicuously absent.

  “I trust you are well, Father? Jane did not mention the pleasure of your presence in her invitation.”

  “It was a sudden decision,” his father grunted as he took a mouthful of kipper.

  Oliver could feel assessing eyes on him, as though he were the main course, so he concentrated his attention on his food, trying not to meet the eyes of either of the young ladies. If he were lucky, they would already be betrothed, but he knew better.

  Across the table was Lord Allerton and beside him sat his sister, eligible candidate for Lady Wolford number one. Oliver knew exactly why he was here, he thought, his breakfast beginning to sour in his stomach. He struggled to remember the girl’s name. Miss Bishop? She did not appear to be throwing out lures; in fact, she seemed reserved, only listening as Dunsmore and her brother argued over the latest Whig bill.

  To her right, he noticed from his peripheral vision, sat Romsey, who appeared to be rather bored. Lady Mary and the dowager were at the other end of the table, but he did not miss the sly glances eligible young miss number two was casting in order to catch the attention of the opposite end of the table. She talked just loud enough for the entire table to hear, and every statement was formed into a question in order to attract a response from one of the men.

  Thankfully, the seat to Oliver’s left was empty, and he thought he would welcome Miss Bell’s conversation over this tedious discourse any day. He paused with his fork halfway to his mouth, then shook his head at the notion.

  Jane burst into the room like a ray of sunshine with Miss Bell trailing along behind. The latter looked lovely in a puce muslin dress, even in stark contrast to his sister, who was known as one of the greatest beauties of their time. With her tall, dark, calm beauty, Miss Bell was almost the opposite of Jane’s petite lightness, but the pair were striking nonetheless. All the gentleman stood up at their entrance, and Jane waved them back down.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, this is my oldest and dearest friend, Hannah Bell. I am so delighted she has been able to join us. Now that she and Oliver are here, the festivities may begin!”

  Oliver had to blink at his sister’s exuberance and caught a knowing glance from Miss Bell as their eyes met in mutual understanding.

  Lady Mary was quick to take up Jane’s excitement, and Oliver could feel, if not hear, the painful commiseration from the other men.

  “With the unexpected snow, I thought we would go sledding today, and tomorrow we can choose a Christmas tree from the forest to bring inside and decorate,” Jane said joyfully, explaining her plans to the guests.

  “Why would we want to do that?” the dowager asked.

  “It is a custom Queen Charlotte brought with her from Germany, and my mother continued it. I assure you it is quite the thing and puts one in the best of Christmas spirits!”

  “All I need is mistletoe for that,” Allerton drawled, causing Lady Mary to titter.

  “We have plenty of mistletoe as well, and in the most unexpected places,” Jane asserted with a laugh.

  Next to Oliver, the Duke grunted. It really was astonishing that Jane had convinced him to attend. The Duke scarcely left London unless there was a dire reason to do so. He loathed travel and was deeply invested in the politics of the country—even when most of Society had left Town.

  Oliver rubbed along well enough with his sire, they just had different interests; and every time they saw each other, his father hounded him about remarrying. As if on cue, his father set down his fork and spoke.

  “I should like to speak with you privately, when you have eaten.”

  “Of course,” Oliver’s eyes darted from his father to his sister, who heard the exchange but made a slight movement with her eyes to indicate she was unaware of his intent.

  The pair excused themselves and went to Dunsmore’s study. As he followed his father, Oliver noticed he looked older and more frail. He walked gingerly towards the study and Oliver’s heart sank. Kembleford sat in an armchair by the fire and gestured for Oliver to join him.

  “How are you, Father?”

  “Not well, as you can see. When Jane said you would be here, I knew it might be my last chance to speak with you.”

  “I would have come to you, if you had but asked,” Oliver protested mildly.

  Kembleford grunted in that throaty way he had of voicing his disapproval without a word.

  “The time has come for you to take over my responsibilities.”

  Oliver was already overseeing all the properties and managing the duchy so his Grace could immerse himself in politics. He waited for the Duke to speak.

  “The doctor says I have a wasting disease and a weak heart. You are soon to be five-and-thirty. I know you did your duty by marrying where you were told before, but you have made little effort to carry on the line since then. You cannot bury yourself in the country and mean to find it a wife!”

  “No, but I have managed to keep the estates profitable.”

  “You are a glorified sheep farmer!”

  Oliver could not argue the fact.

  “Many peers spend half the year in the country and half in Town. I care less about that than seeing a grandchild before I die. Neither you nor Jane has done your duty.”

  “Not for lack of trying, sir. It is hardly our fault that our spouses died.”

  “But it has been, what, eight years since Lady Sybil died? You could have remarried several times since then.”

  “I am not opposed to marriage, Father. However, I prefer to choose for myself this time.”

  “You have been saying that since you were out of mourning, yet have made no effort so to do. You must make a choice, Oliver. I have asked Jane to bring Lady Fanny and Lady Mary here for your perusal. I expect a
n announcement and a wedding by the Twelfth Night. I do not think that is too much to ask. I will ask the same of Jane, but she can hardly provide an heir.”

  Oliver tried not to show open disgust at the thought of marrying one of his father’s choices again, but conceded that unless he wished to make the effort, he might as well choose from one of the ladies present. A merry Christmas to him.

  Chapter 4

  Hannah took in the situation the moment she walked into the breakfast parlour behind Jane. She did not think her friend was solely responsible for this game, but there was a little doubt in Hannah’s mind that this house party has been arranged for matchmaking.

  When the Duke and Lord Wolford left together, presumably for private speech, Jane hurried after them. Hannah conversed a little with Miss Bishop, who seemed a quiet, studious sort of girl, and then excused herself to return to her room. Jane found her there shortly afterwards.

  “Hannah!” Jane said, closing the door behind her and leaning against it. “I need your help! You will not believe what I have just heard!”

  “Of course, whatever you need.” Hannah closed her book and set it aside, giving her friend her full attention.

  Jane collapsed in the opposite chair with little decorum. “Father has given Oliver an ultimatum to marry by Twelfth Night!”

  “An ultimatum?” Hannah questioned, trying to calm the rapid pulsing of her heart in her chest.

  “Well, not an ultimatum precisely.” Jane twisted her lips as if trying to decide what it was. “He told him he is ill and that Oliver has neglected his duty. He said that of me as well,” Jane noted, although she did not seem concerned by it.

  “You know what I say about eavesdropping, Jane,” Hannah scolded.