The Guardian's Dilemma

Nevertheless, Oliver kept his voice polite but cool as he sketched her a brief bow. ‘Good afternoon, Miss de Coverdale. I hope my study has not disturbed you.’

‘It has not disturbed me, Mr Brandon, but I fear you are affecting the concentration of some of my girls,’ Helen said quietly. ‘They are easily distracted by the presence of strangers, especially those about whom they are curious.’

Oliver had expected her voice to be as seductive as everything else about her, but he was surprised to discover that her eyes were not brown as he had first thought, but a most unusual shade of dark green flecked with bits of amber and gold. ‘I apologise for any disruption I might be causing, Miss de Coverdale. I was simply curious to see if you were as good an artist as Mrs Guarding led me to believe.’

The beautiful eyes grew wary. ‘You discussed me with Mrs Guarding?’

‘Of course. As I discussed all of the teachers I met this morning. I thought it only wise since my ward is to be a pupil here.’

Oliver knew he didn’t owe her an explanation, but neither did he wish to make her feel as though he had singled her out. Why he should be concerned with her feelings, he had no idea. After all, it was not his conduct that had engendered his current opinion of her.

‘Does your ward like to paint?’ Helen surprised him by asking.

‘Paint? Yes, I suppose she does. Gillian is skilled in a number of areas, including those of a more creative nature.’

‘Good. Then I look forward to the opportunity of working with her.’

‘That is what I would like to speak to you about, Miss de Coverdale,’ Oliver said stiffly. ‘I think there are things which need to be clarified—’

Suddenly, a clattering behind them, followed by smothered gasps and then a burst of feminine giggles, brought an abrupt end to their conversation.

‘Miss de Coverdale, come quickly!’ one of the girls cried. ‘Rebecca’s easel has fallen over and she is all spattered with yellow and blue paint.’

Helen’s eyes widened as she turned to survey the spectacle. ‘Dear me! Miss Walters, did I not tell you to make sure your easel was securely placed?’ She turned back around and Oliver was surprised to see not anger, but laughter bubbling in the depths of her beautiful eyes. ‘Forgive me, Mr Brandon, I fear I must return to my class.’

‘But it is important that we speak—’

‘I am sure whatever you need say to me can wait, sir.’

With that, she turned and hurried back towards her class. The girls were all clustered around the unfortunate Rebecca, ineffectually dabbing their small white handkerchiefs at the spots of yellow and blue paint on her smock. Oliver listened as Helen put one of the older girls in charge, and then watched her escort the stricken Rebecca back to the school. Once again, she did not spare him a second glance.

Oliver bit back a sigh of vexation. He was not used to being summarily dismissed, and certainly not by a woman like Helen de Coverdale. But she had made her position clear. Obviously if he wished to have any kind of private conversation with her, it was either going to have to be before her classes, or after them.

Helen was somewhat surprised that she did not see Oliver Brandon again that day, but she was not in the least surprised to receive a summons to the headmistress’s sitting-room later that afternoon.

‘I hope you do not mind my asking you here, Helen,’ Mrs Guarding began, ‘but I think you know the reason why.’

Helen sighed. She had long since come to realise that Eleanor Guarding was not only an intelligent woman but an intuitive one. She had obviously seen the look on Oliver Brandon’s face this morning—as well as on her own—and the interview now was about achieving an understanding of what those looks had been about. For the good of the school, of course.

‘Not at all,’ Helen said, taking the indicated seat in front of the headmistress’s desk. ‘I am sure you noticed my reaction to Mr Brandon.’

The headmistress smiled. ‘I am used to young women blushing in the presence of a handsome gentleman, but I thought your response indicated something more than just a touch of simple embarrassment.’

Helen was dismayed to feel fresh colour rise to her cheeks. ‘It isn’t what you think.’

‘Oh? What is it you perceive I think it might be?’

‘I am not acquainted with Mr Brandon,’ Helen said carefully. ‘I merely saw him at the home of one of my employers, many years ago.’

‘Really. And yet it struck me there was some discomfort on your part. Why would that be, if you had done nothing more than see him?’

‘Because I saw him while I was being…’ Helen broke off, finding it difficult even now to say the words. ‘While I was being most…rudely treated by the man whose daughters I had been engaged to look after.’

‘I see.’ There was a moment’s silence during which all that could be heard was the ticking of the mantel clock. Then Mrs Guarding nodded. ‘It would be foolish of me to pretend an ignorance of what goes on in the world, Helen. You would not be the first woman to be unjustly put upon, and I sympathise with you for what you had to endure. I take it Mr Brandon did not realise what was happening at the time?’

‘No. I am quite sure he believed he was witnessing a mutually agreeable embrace. He said nothing, but he left the room very quickly.’

‘And you have not seen him since?’

‘No. I left Lord Talbot’s employ the very next day.’

Mrs Guarding laced her fingers together on the desk in front of her. ‘Well, I think we need say no more about it. I apologise if my question seemed intrusive, but for the good of the school, I had to ask.’

‘I understand.’

‘My other reason for inviting you here was to inform you of Mr Brandon’s concerns with regard to his ward.’

Helen frowned. ‘Concerns?’

‘Yes. It seems Miss Gresham has been keeping company with a gentleman by the name of Sidney Wymington. Mr Brandon is not happy with her choice of companion and has sent her here to place her beyond Mr Wymington’s reach.’

Helen glanced at the headmistress in confusion. ‘But if he has sent her here for that reason, why is he still concerned?’

‘Because he is of the opinion that Mr Wymington may try to get in touch with Miss Gresham here. As such, he has asked me to advise my staff that she is not to receive letters from the gentleman, nor to entertain him here. She is also not to leave the school grounds unescorted.’

At the headmistress’s words, Helen felt a mixture of anger and resentment kindle in her breast. Why did men always feel they had the right to meddle in other people’s lives? Especially those of their wives or daughters? Oliver Brandon was interfering in his ward’s life in exactly the same way her own father had meddled in hers; an interference which had cost Helen the love of the man she had dearly hoped to marry. Why was everyone so willing to accept such high-handed treatment?

‘Do you agree with what he is asking you to do?’ she asked stiffly.

Mrs Guarding picked up her teacup and raised it to her lips. ‘It is not for me to agree or disagree, Helen. Mr Brandon’s ward is my pupil; therefore, I have no choice but to act in accordance with his instructions. He has made me aware of certain facts and I must now do whatever I can to ensure that Miss Gresham and Mr Wymington do not meet.’

‘But what if he is wrong about the gentleman?’ Helen felt compelled to ask. ‘What if Mr Wymington is a perfectly amiable man who loves Miss Gresham and who has the best of intentions at heart?’

‘That possibility certainly exists, but it is not up to you or me to make it known to Mr Brandon. He has paid his ward’s tuition in full and has also made a most generous donation of books. I am in no position to challenge him about what he does and does not feel is right for his ward.’

‘But he is interfering in a young girl’s life!’

‘A young girl who is legally in his care,’ the headmistress reminded her. ‘As such, one who must be expected to abide by his decisions. I do hope I have your co-operation in this, Helen. I cannot have individual members of my staff acting of their own volition in matters such as these.’

Helen bit back the words she longed to speak and vented her frustration in a sigh. She knew there was only one answer she could give. Whatever her own feelings in the matter, they could have no place here. For the good of the school, she had to comply with Mrs Guarding’s wishes. But not for the first time in her life, the rules by which she was forced to live sat ill upon her conscience. ‘Yes, of course you have my co-operation.’

Mrs Guarding looked considerably relieved. ‘Thank you. I know you have strong feelings in the matter, my dear, but we really have no choice. If we do not do as Mr Brandon asks, he will simply remove his ward and demand a refund of the tuition he has already paid. And then we shall be in forfeit of both his good opinion and his funding.’

‘Yes, I know,’ Helen murmured reluctantly. ‘But it does not make me any the happier for knowing.’

‘We must do the best we can.’ Mrs Guarding smiled. ‘Thank you too for telling me the truth about the manner of your first introduction to Mr Brandon.’

‘Why would I not?’