More Than a Governess

He strode over to the door, barking his orders to a lackey.

Moments later, two little figures trooped into the room.

‘Goodness, that was very prompt!’ exclaimed Juliana, smiling at the Misses Collingham.

They were dressed in identical redingotes of claretcoloured wool with matching bonnets. The eldest girl raised her eyes, so like her father’s, and looked directly at Juliana.

‘We were waiting in the hall for Aunt Louisa, Papa.’ She addressed the Major, although she kept her eyes upon Juliana. ‘She is taking us for a drive in the park.’

‘Well, I shall not keep you long.’ Major Collingham beckoned them to come forward. ‘I want to make you known to your new governess. Gwendoline…’ He paused as the older of the two children bobbed a curtsy.

Juliana curtsied back.

‘How do you do, Miss Collingham?’

‘Gwendoline was twelve years old last month,’ said the Major. ‘And this is Wilhelmina.’ He nodded at the smaller child, who stepped forward and bobbed, saying as she did so,

‘And I’m eight.’

‘Indeed?’ marvelled Juliana. ‘You are very grown up for eight, I think. I am very pleased to meet you both.’

‘Miss Wrenn will be joining us next week,’ said the Major. ‘You will have your first lesson with her at two o’clock on Monday—yes, Miss Wrenn, did you say something?’

‘So—so soon,’ stammered Juliana. ‘I thought we should get to know one another first.’

‘If that is what you wish to do, Miss Wrenn, I have no objection, as long as you do it in the schoolroom.’

‘And out of the way, Major?’ she murmured, bringing that frowning stare upon her again.

Whatever retort the Major was about to make was interrupted as the door opened and a tall woman in a rose-pink pelisse erupted into the room.

‘Damon, do you have the girls here? I was about to take them out.’

‘The children are here, Louisa, dressed and ready for you. I was introducing them to their new governess. This is Miss Wrenn—my sister, Lady Varley.’

Juliana found herself subjected to a head-to-toe scrutiny and forced herself not to fidget. Her walking dress might not be as stylish as Lady Varley’s fine wool pelisse, and one small ostrich feather could not compete with the three nodding plumes that adorned Lady Varley’s high-crowned bonnet, but she knew her simple attire was perfectly suited to a young lady of modest means, and more than adequate for a governess. Lady Varley seemed to agree, for she gave a nod of approval.

‘So, Damon, you have found someone already. How clever of you.’

The Major’s lips curved up slightly.

‘It would be more accurate to say that Miss Wrenn found me.’

Lady Varley waved one pink-gloved hand.

‘Whatever the case, it would seem that I need not take the children out with me after all.’ She paused, glancing down at the two little faces looking up at her. ‘But they are dressed now, so I suppose I must. Come along, then. The carriage is at the door and you know your father does not like to keep his horses standing!’

She hurried the children out of the room, turning at the door to say, ‘We shall not be too long, Damon. I have to stop off at Madame Fleurie’s to look at the new muslin she had brought in for me and then I shall take the girls for a quick turn around the park, to give them an airing before dinner.’

‘You must not mind my sister, Miss Wrenn,’ remarked the Major as the door closed upon the little party. ‘She felt obliged to come to London with the children when their governess walked out. She has not yet forgiven me.’

‘That was very good of her; some aunts might have considered it sufficient to send the children with a servant.’

‘Ah, but then I would not have felt obliged to pay for the gowns she has ordered from Madame Fleurie.’

Juliana was surprised into a laugh, which she quickly stifled—levity was not becoming in a governess. She should take her leave. As if reading her mind, Major Collingham walked to the door.

‘Very well, Miss Wrenn. I will send my carriage to Bouverie Street on Monday morning at, say, eleven o’clock. You will bring your brother and sister with you. I shall have rooms prepared for your arrival.’

‘Thank you, sir. You are very good.’

‘No, it is a business arrangement. My man will have the contract ready for you to sign when you arrive.’ He bent that hard gaze upon her again. ‘I shall expect you to earn your money, Miss Wrenn.’

She met his gaze squarely.

‘I expect nothing less of you, Major Collingham.’

She hurried back to Bouverie Street and made her way directly to the kitchens, where Mrs Churwell was waiting to hear her news. Juliana could not suppress her elation.

‘He’s hired me,’ she cried. ‘Major Collingham is sending the carriage here for me on Monday, and he says Thomas and Amy can come too. I was most surprised at that, I can tell you, but it is ideal for us all.’

‘Oh, well done, dearie! I’m that pleased for you, I really am.’ The housekeeper turned to the footman, who was relaxing in a chair with his feet up on the fender. ‘You hear that, Lawrence? Miss Wrenn is to be a governess to the Major, and him a hero of Waterloo, no less!’

‘Is he? I never knew that.’ Juliana smiled, taking off her bonnet and placing it on a side table.

‘Aye.’ Lawrence poured himself another mug of ale. ‘My brother was in his regiment, the 30

Foot. They fought off the French at Quatre Bras. Praised by Lord Wellington hisself, they was. But that’s not all.’ He grinned. ‘Devil Collingham, they call him. Heard it from the man’s groom hisself, I did, last time I delivered some papers to the house and stopped off for a glass of daffy on the way back. Devil Collingham—devil on the battlefield, and devil in the bedroom. They say in Brussels it was nothing for him to pleasure three women in one night.’

With a shriek Mrs Churwell cuffed him round the ear.

‘I’ll have none of that talk in my kitchen, my lad! You had best get back upstairs, now, before the master starts shouting for you. Go on, now! Don’t you be taking any notice of what Lawrence says,’ she added, when the footman had lounged away. ‘I don’t hold with servants’ tittle-tattle.’

‘No more do I,’ agreed Juliana. She looked up at the housekeeper, a mischievous twinkle in her green eyes. ‘However, it seems I have just made a pact with the devil!’

Chapter Three

‘Well, what do you think of her?’ Wilhelmina whispered to her sister as Lady Varley gave her instructions to the driver. Gwendoline wrinkled her nose.

‘Miss Sevenoaks was much prettier, except when she had been drinking too much, then her face became very red.’

‘Well, I think she’s pretty,’ replied Wilhelmina. ‘And she had kind eyes.’

Gwendoline gave her a nudge as their aunt climbed into the carriage.

‘Whispering again?’ Lady Varley shook her head. ‘I hope this new woman Damon has hired will teach you both some manners.’

They travelled in silence to New Bond Street; when they reached the fashionable dressmaker’s establishment, Lady Varley took the children into the shop, declaring she would prefer to keep them under her eye. The girls gazed around them in wide-eyed wonder. At first glance the walls seemed to be decorated in rainbow colours, but closer inspection revealed shelves from floor to ceiling, packed with rolls of fabric, shiny silks and satin, soft muslins and cottons of every shade. There seemed to be half a dozen ladies in the room, but the girls soon realised that these were life-size dummies displaying the very latest fashions. Madame Fleurie herself appeared from the back of the shop flanked by two simpering assistants, each carrying rolls of creamy-coloured muslin for Lady Varley’s inspection. The modiste curtsied, bowed, flattered and fawned over her patroness, uttering so many compliments in her lilting French accent that Gwendoline turned away, her lip curling. She led her sister to a satin-covered couch, half-hidden between rolls of fabric and piles of hatboxes.