The Earl's Runaway Governess

‘Cecily, please pass me my shawl. It is positively freezing in here!’

It was true, Marianne thought. Still attired in her cloak, bonnet and gloves—and how rude she was to be so—nevertheless could tell that the sitting room was only a little milder than outdoors.

Discreetly, she removed the gloves and stowed them in the pocket hung under her cloak.

Cecily passed an ornate shawl to her mother, commenting as she did so, ‘The fire has not been lit in here, Mama. And Agnes will be helping Mrs Cullen with dinner. We shall have to wait until afterwards for her to set the fire in the parlour again.’

Lady Kingswood looked a little uncomfortable. ‘I should explain,’ she said, addressing Marianne, ‘that we have had to make certain economies during my husband’s illness. Temporary, of course.’

‘Of course.’ What else could she say?

Thankfully, Mrs Cullen then reappeared, with hot tea and delicious-looking crumpets. Marianne, who had eaten nothing since yesterday evening, felt her stomach cry out for the food.

‘Dinner will be ready in about a half-hour, my lady,’ the cook said to her mistress. ‘What with the new Earl and Miss Bolton arriving, I’ve added a few extra vegetables and put a pie in the oven.’ She looked at Marianne. ‘Once you’ve finished your tea I’ll show you your room, if you wish.’

Marianne thanked her, noting that with the mention of Lord Kingswood the tension in the air had increased again.

The Dowager Countess Kingswood served the tea and they all drank and ate in silence. Marianne loved the freshly baked crumpets. If these were any indication, then Mrs Cullen was a fine cook.

‘Mama,’ said Lady Cecily suddenly, ‘can Lord Kingswood really bring whomever he wishes into Ledbury House?’

Lady Kingswood frowned. ‘Yes,’ she said bitterly, ‘and there is nothing that either of us can do about it. The law allows it. He is master here now.’

‘But,’ said Cecily, ‘that is not fair!’

Marianne reflected on this. Like her, they were victims of the law. Men wrote things in wills; women suffered them. As if it was not enough to lose a loved one through death, they then had to be subject to whatever the law said must happen next. In the Kingswood ladies’ case that meant subjecting themselves to the arrogant Lord Kingswood. For Marianne it had meant the arrival of Henry and his friends into her peaceful existence.

She shook her head slightly. Well, she would do all she could for Lady Kingswood and her daughter, as Mrs Bailey had done for her.

* * *

‘This is the room used by Lady Cecily’s previous governesses. As I didn’t know you were coming I haven’t had time to make up the bed or clean the room, but I shall get on to it as soon as I can.’

Mrs Cullen stood back, allowing Marianne to enter first. The room was fairly small, but it had a fireplace, an armoire and a chest of drawers, as well as a solid-looking bed with a clean mattress. The place needed dusting, and the window was grimy, but all in all, it was a pleasant room.

Marianne crossed to the window. The view was delightful—she could see the drive, the overgrown garden and the woods beyond.

‘It is a lovely room. Has Lady Cecily had many governesses?’

‘Oh, well...’ Mrs Cullen flushed a little. ‘We live very quietly here, and rarely go to London, so people sometimes move on to other positions. Not just the governesses.’

‘But you have stayed—and so has your daughter?’

‘Ah, but my mother and father both lived here all their lives. My mother was cook for the old Lord and Lady Kingswood, him being the Third Earl, and then for Master John and his wife—the present Dowager Countess—until I took over. She worked here for over forty years. I was born in this house, and so was my Agnes. This is our home too. We could never leave it, no matter how bad—That is to say we have a fondness for the place, and for the family, and they have always been good to us. Although, now—’ She frowned. ‘But that is of no matter. Now, would you like some warm water for washing?’

Marianne had listened to this rambling speech in some astonishment. Only loyalty to the Earl’s family, Mrs Cullen seemed to suggest, had prevented them from leaving. So why would they think of leaving in the first place? Were they not being paid? Were they badly treated? They certainly seemed to be burdened with overwork.

Mrs Cullen was waiting for her response. ‘Oh, thank you! But I know you are busy preparing dinner. If you will show me where to go, I shall fetch a jug of water myself.’

‘Indeed, you will not!’ Mrs Cullen looked shocked. ‘A gently bred lady such as yourself, fetching and carrying like a scullery maid? No, Aggie will bring it to you directly, for I shall replace her in the kitchen.’

She bustled off, leaving Marianne with much to think about. She was beginning to understand why she had been given this position. Without a character reference she could not afford to be over-particular. And with a high turnover of staff—including, it seemed, governesses—Lady Kingswood could not be over-particular either. Which meant that they were all tied together—herself, the ladies, the staff. And the new Earl Kingswood.

Chapter Five (#u1c8cfdd4-a808-5734-8021-39de660cecd1)

Marianne ventured downstairs again with some trepidation. Aggie had informed her, when she had brought the water, that dinner would be served in twenty minutes, so Marianne had had a hasty wash, brushed as much dust as she could from her gown, then gone in search of the dining room.

The house was a similar size to her own home, though the layout was different, but she had tried two or three wrong doors before she’d eventually found the correct room. No one was there, but the table was laid for dinner.

In her head she was counting the number of servants they had at home. Seven—and that was just the indoor servants. In contrast Ledbury House, which was probably larger, was surviving on two—hence the dilapidation.

A small fire was burning in the dining room grate, and Marianne crossed to the fireplace to warm her hands. After the cold ride in the carriage she had not as yet warmed up.

Behind her, the door opened and closed, sending smoke from the fire billowing into her face and causing her to cough helplessly.

‘Oh, Miss Bolton—that is the draught! We do not stray too close to the fire unless we know that no one will open the door.’

It was Cecily.

‘The smoke comes into the room and can make you cough if you are too close.’

‘Miss Bolton will soon learn our ways, Cecily.’ Lady Kingswood had followed her daughter into the room. ‘Now, do tidy your hair, child. It is becoming unpinned.’

Obediently, Cecily raised her hands to her hair, which was, in fact, loosening a little at the back.

‘Can I help?’ Marianne, having recovered from her coughing fit, stepped towards her. ‘It is this pin which has become loose—there, now I have fixed it!’

‘Thank you, Miss Bolton,’ said Lady Cecily.

Her mother had already turned away, and now seated herself at the foot of the table. Marianne waited to see which side Lady Cecily would sit, then moved towards the other. That left one place setting—the head of the table where, presumably, Lord Kingswood was expected to sit. Lady Kingswood, noting it, pressed her lips together.

The door opened again, behind Marianne, and she realised from the other ladies’ sudden stiffening that it must be Lord Kingswood. He seemed to pause, then walked silently to his place at the head of the table.

‘Good evening, Fanny, Cecily, Miss Bolton.’

He looked every inch the gentleman, Marianne had to concede. He wore the knee breeches, snowy white shirt and superfine jacket that were currently de rigueur for evening wear. His cravat was tied in a complicated knot and he was fiddling absently with a beautiful pocket watch.

The fashionable clothing showed off his fine, muscular figure to advantage, and Marianne could not help again contrasting his appearance with that of Henry and his friends—some of whom were thin as a lath and others, like Henry, who were inclined to carry extra weight. Lord Kingswood somehow filled his clothes. Their clothing was similar, but there the resemblance ended.

‘Good evening,’ she murmured politely, reminding herself that appearance meant nothing. Lord Kingswood, though a few years older than Henry, was clearly part of the London set. Perhaps he even knew her brother! A wave of fear washed over her at the thought.

Cecily also replied to him, but Lady Kingswood merely inclined her head. Mrs Cullen and Agnes then appeared, with a selection of dishes, and the tension in the air dissipated a little as they all helped themselves to various delicacies.

Feeling she must say something, Marianne managed to engage Lady Cecily in a conversation about foods that she liked and disliked, and as the meal went on she felt Cecily warming to her a little.

The food was delicious—Mrs Cullen was clearly an expert cook. Marianne thanked heaven for small mercies. The house was cold, and rundown, and its occupants were at each other’s throats, but at least there was decent food.

Strange that she had taken her life so much for granted. Until a few days ago she had never had cause to question where her next meal was coming from. Although she had not actually run out of money, she had worried about doing so during the past few days. Now she appreciated the food before her as she never had before. She savoured every bite and was grateful.