His Unusual Governess

Francesca’s eyes opened wide. She stared in disbelief, her mouth slightly parted. ‘What did you say?’

‘We shall naturally discuss poetry and literature and you will need to practise your drawing, embroidery and the instrument of your choice—but learning to dance, to enter a room, to curtsy and to hold your own when a gentleman flirts with you is very important. You will need those skills before you have your Season.’

‘You don’t want me to write an essay on the decline of the Roman Empire or conjugate French verbs?’

‘I imagine you’ve had a varied and extensive education. We can discover the boundaries of your knowledge together in conversation. A young woman of fashion must be able to converse intelligently, do you not agree, my lord?’

Sarah risked a look at Lord Myers, who was watching her with narrowed eyes. She was not sure whether they expressed suspicion or disbelief.

‘Most young ladies of my acquaintance are too missish to say boo to a goose. They repeat phrases parrot-fashion and then lapse into embarrassed silence if asked a question.’

‘Too harsh, my lord!’ Sarah laughed, her face lighting with amusement. ‘Well, I shall hope that Francesca will have more to say for herself on her debut. If she has not, I shall have failed in my duties.’

‘Remarkable …’ Lord Myers’s eyes held a look of calculation. ‘Francesca, I think you have been more fortunate than any of us imagined in your new governess. My only question is—how did Lady Mary ever bring herself to part with you?’

Sarah refused to lower her eyes. He was probing, trying to get beneath her skin, but she would not allow him that privilege.

‘Lord Myers is using mockery, Francesca,’ she said in a calm and composed manner. ‘Were I a young woman of fashion I might do one of two things. If I wished to encourage him, I might give him an enigmatic smile and flirt with my fan—or, if I wish to discourage his advances, I should raise an eyebrow and move on without answering.’

‘Here endeth the first lesson,’ Lord Myers drawled. ‘It is actually good advice, Francesca. May one ask which you would have chosen, Miss Goodrum?’

‘I shall leave that to your imagination, my lord,’ Sarah replied, but was relieved when the door opened and the housekeeper entered accompanied by two maids, each of whom carried a tray. ‘Ah, here is our tea. Would you like to play the hostess, Francesca?’

Francesca shot her a nervous look, but took her seat next to a small occasional table. Mrs Brancaster set up her butler’s tray, exchanged a few words with Lord Myers, looked curiously at Sarah and left, taking one of the maids with her.

‘You are aware that you begin with the lady of first rank,’ Sarah told Francesca as her hand hovered. ‘However, since I am the governess, you should begin with Lord Myers and then me and then your brother. Were there several ladies of rank you should attempt to serve the highest rank first and then, when all the ladies are served, go on to the gentlemen and begin again in the same way.’

‘Miss Goodrum may be correct,’ Lord Myers said. ‘But in my opinion ladies are always first—of whatever rank. You may serve Miss Goodrum tea first, Francesca.’

Sarah shot a look at him, but did not contradict him. ‘I take my tea with lemon, no milk or sugar,’ she said and smiled as Francesca lifted the heavy pot. The girl’s hand trembled slightly but she accomplished the ceremony without accident, handing the cup to the maid who delivered it to Sarah, and serving Lord Myers next. He asked for milk and one sugar and then accepted a sandwich and fruit tartlet from the hovering maid.

After everyone had been served with tea and cake, Francesca looked at Sarah. She inclined her head and the maid was dismissed.

‘Did your last governess take tea with you both?’

‘No, she preferred to take hers in the kitchen,’ John answered, a trifle indignant. ‘Fran and me had most of our meals in the nursery together. The only time the drawing room was used was when Grandfather came down and we had guests. Mrs Brancaster served us then—or sometimes Cousin Agatha.’

‘Fran and I,’ Sarah gently corrected. ‘Your cousin visits you from time to time?’

‘Only at Christmas,’ John said. ‘We’ve been on our own for years, haven’t we, Fran?’

‘Yes.’ Francesca sipped her tea. She had crooked her little finger in an affected way, but as she looked at Sarah and saw that she held her cup in a more relaxed manner she did the same. ‘We’re both bored. Why can’t we have friends here to picnics and dances?’

‘We might have a dance on your seventeenth birthday. It’s a few weeks before Christmas,’ Lord Myers said. ‘If you attend to your dancing lessons and whatever else Miss Goodrum has to teach you, you may be ready then. We might start to entertain a few visitors, though—just to dinner and cards or some such thing.’

‘The weather is beautiful,’ Sarah said. ‘I think a picnic for your neighbours would be ideal as a way of letting people know we are receiving calls and visits. The best way to become accustomed to company is to invite them into your home. Does a picnic appeal to you, John?’

‘Can we have games and races? We went to the fete at the vicarage last summer—Fran and I won the three-legged race. It was fun.’

‘I am sure something could be arranged, but you must ask Lord Myers. I am just the governess. I can suggest, but it is not for me to decide.’

Sarah opened her eyes at him, inviting him to respond, her manner carefully controlled. His frown deepened and his gaze narrowed, as if he were trying to read her thoughts. Lord Myers was clearly not convinced that she was a governess.

Just how far would he go to discover the truth?

‘A picnic?’ His gaze moved from one eager face to another and then back to Sarah’s. ‘I seem to have been outnumbered. A picnic it is, then—but I shall expect you to write the invitations, Miss Goodrum. And you will organise the games, if you please.’

‘I’ll help you write the invitations. I know where Grandfather keeps his list of people to invite for Christmas,’ Francesca volunteered. ‘And we’ll both help with the games, won’t we, John?’

John looked at his sister and nodded. He was very much under her influence, Sarah realised. If Francesca gave the new governess her approval, half the battle would be won.

They were talking excitedly about what they wanted at their picnic. Sarah smiled inwardly while helping herself to a dainty almond comfit. This was exactly how she saw family life in the country and she was enjoying herself. However, she knew the battle was not yet won. At the moment the children were getting their own way and were therefore prepared to be amenable, but at the first hint of authority they might change like the wind.

Sarah was very conscious of being scrutinised by Lord Myers. She felt that he did not know what to make of her and was taking his time in deciding. Sarah found herself wishing that she was the governess she professed to be, because she wanted to stay here and be a part of this charmed circle.

A little shiver started at the nape of her neck as she imagined what they would say and think if they knew she was the rich Miss Hardcastle escaping from the pursuit of an overeager suitor. Would they feel betrayed or angry? Of course they would, because she’d lied to get her position here. She had no qualifications for her position as a governess, other than the fact that she had herself been schooled by an excellent governess and spent two years at a finishing school for young ladies.

Sarah hoped that Lord Myers would not discover just how expensive her school had been, because he would wonder how the daughter of a mine manager could afford the fees.

‘Will you teach me to waltz?’

Francesca brought her mind back to the present. ‘I shall do my best and when you’re ready you may practise with your tutor.’

‘My tutor?’ Francesca gave a little laugh. ‘Lord Myers is my cousin,’ she said, making the situation clearer. ‘Grandfather is his uncle.’

‘We are second cousins,’ Lord Myers told her. ‘Your mother was my cousin.’

‘Oh …’ Francesca nodded. ‘It’s the same thing. My last governess told me that all the aristocracy were part of the cousinry—everyone is related to everyone else through marriage, if not by blood.’

‘I’ve heard it said.’ Lord Myers inclined his head. ‘I’m not sure it’s true—though many are related in some way. You don’t have a male cousin, Francesca. I’m your nearest male relative apart from your grandfather. I have a married sister. Have you met Lady Meadows at all?’

Francesca shook her head. ‘Grandfather asked her to stay last Christmas, but she refused.’

‘Jane was having her first child at about that time. She had been married just over a year and wanted to rest to make certain there were no accidents.’

‘Will she come for my birthday dance?’

Francesca’s expression was uncertain, a little pleading, and Sarah’s heart went out to her. She was surely in need of female company and advice.

‘I shall certainly ask.’ He looked thoughtful. ‘You must not worry, Francesca. In a few months you will be out and you’ll meet lots of people—ladies and gentlemen.’

‘It’s so long to wait.’

‘You must learn patience,’ he said. ‘A properly brought-up young lady does not expect everything to happen to suit her. It will not be like that when you are married.’

‘If I ever marry,’ Francesca said and sighed.

‘You will when you’re ready,’ Sarah assured her. ‘Marriage is to be expected and hoped for in your case, Francesca—but there is no hurry. You should enjoy being courted and meeting people. Once you’re out there will be dances and lots of exciting things to do. One day you will fall in love and marry the man of your dreams.’