by Fanny Finch
Once more the Earl of Conmeyer laughed. He looked at The Earl of Dulshire as if the man was a fool for not understanding.
“Do you truly believe that any man hires a governess for his child’s sake?” Lord Conmeyer asked.
Unbeknownst to the Earl, the Baron Woldorf was standing by during the entire conversation. Upon making his presence known and the Earl recognizing that he had heard every word, the Baron took a deep breath before plunging in with his opinion.
“Well that is indeed one way to hire a new employee,” the Baron remarked.
“Please do not tell me that you were going to be just another moralistic man as this one,” Lord Conmeyer complained.
“I am far worse,” confessed the Baron.
“And how is that?” Lord Conmeyer asked.
The Earl watched the exchange curiously. He was utterly enraged by the behavior of Lord Conmeyer. He could not fathom that a man would view a young woman such as Miss Caulfield with so little respect. He saw her merely as material for a new affair.
The Earl however, could not bear to think of her in such terms. He saw the beauty and the light within Miss Caulfield’s eyes. He saw her only for the young woman that she was internally. To hear Lord Conmeyer speak so poorly of her was in agony.
“I am far more moralistic,” the Baron warned. “Surely you must know, my lord, that it is wrong for one man to steal away what clearly belongs to another.”
The Baron turned to the Earl and gave him a queer look that left the Earl feeling as though the words had a deep meaning. He was so grateful to his friend for sticking up for him and defending him against Lord Conmeyer. He must have been mistaken about the look. Truly, the Baron was being kind to him, hardly a man to speak against him.
“So you see,” the Earl said, gesturing towards his friend in acknowledgement of his words.
“I see that the two of you are no fun at all. And surely you must be enjoying the girl too much to share,” Lord Conmeyer laughed gruffly.
Feeling his blood boil, the Earl tried to temper himself. It was too improper an assumption. He had never treated an employee with sin disregard or such use as the Earl of Conmeyer was suggesting.
“I do believe that the Earl has made himself quite clear,” the Baron noted, trying to scale down the discussion.
“Perhaps he has,” Lord Conmeyer replied.
“But I cannot for a moment believe that he’s had no fun at all with that one.”
He appeared, and smelled, as though he had been drinking. For this reason, the Earl thought he must give the man a bit of slack.
The Earl turned away, knowing he would not be able to restrain himself much longer.
“Do not worry about it,” the Baron urged. “He is a fool.”
The Earl of Dulshire watched Lord Conmeyer move into the crowd and indulge in the show.
It was not easy to do so. He was so angered by what the Earl of Conmeyer had said and the ways in which he had desired to use Miss Caulfield, that he could hardly contain himself.
But the Earl had always been a man of even temper. No matter how difficult the situation.
He considered how the Baron had stood up for him. He also thought about the words the man had used. About not taking what belonged to another man.
There had seemed something within those words but he didn’t know what it might be. He also realized that he didn’t like to consider Miss Caulfield as something that belonged to him. After all, was that not the problem that the Earl of Conmeyer had? A belief that staff could be traded and that a woman might belong to him?
“You know, it was his poor wife who discovered him with the governess,” the Baron said, leaning and saying it quietly in the Earl’s ear.
“That poor woman,” the Earl replied.
“The governess was out on the street immediately. But many have said it was likely not her own fault. The Earl of Conmeyer has a reputation, you know. He’s not an attractive man or any the sort that might manage to get a woman from his charm. It is believed that he tells the women his status and threatens that they have no choice,” the Baron divulged.
“No choice?” the Earl asked, horrified.
“Yes. They must be his mistress or he will put them out and tell everyone that she stole from him. He manipulates and uses them. Quite a horrid man on every account,” the Baron noted.
“What a cruel thing to do,” the Earl said, feeling his anger all over again.
“Yes, cruel indeed. Isn’t it a shame when a man believes that his position is all he needs to get whatever woman he desires? No matter how she might have an affection for another? No matter how she might have a commitment to another?” the Baron inquired.
The question, again, seemed poised with depth.
“Atrocious,” the Earl replied. He could not imagine a man being so evil as it appeared the Earl of Conmeyer must be. The way he used those young women was a scandal to be sure.
And yet society would always be on the side of the Earl. After all, who would believe the young women? It would ruin their own reputation far more than it would put any sort of dent in that of Lord Conmeyer. Even if everyone knew it to be true, society would come to his defense.
The Earl felt ill. He took a deep breath in and waited for the show to finish before making his way back to the front of the room.
“And now, my dear friends, I fear that our program has come to a close. Feel free to drink and remain together if you wish. If you do not wish, then please enjoy your journey home,” the Earl said, giving a fond farewell.
He was relieved to note that the vast majority of guests were leaving. The Earl of Dulshire was exhausted and knew that he would not be hosing any more engagements for quite some time.
The Baron lingered for a moment.
“Forgive me if I earlier was not so kind in enquiring about the beauty of your governess. I do hope you do not feel as though I was accusing you,” he said.
The Earl paused but gave his friend a smile.
“No, not at all. I understand. And I do hope that you might understand that I truly meant what I said with Lord Conmeyer as well. I do not view her for her beauty, nor did I hire her for that reason. In fact, I hired her before seeing her,” the Earl noted.
“Yes, I trust that. I trust that you are a man true to your word,” the Baron said, looking quite content. He took the Earl’s hand and shook it firmly before making his way out to the coach.
The Earl felt content as well. The evening had gone about as well as it could have, considering how many people had become drunk early on in the event.
It had not been a great delight to have them all, but he had persevered and made his way through it. Now, the time had come in which he could go and rest.
Still, the Earl thought about the disagreement that had taken place with Miss Caulfield. The Baron had been so good to him, he did not like having her make accusations.
But if they were true. If there was any foundation for the Baron having been untoward, he did wish to know. He would consider asking her about it another time. Maybe.
For now, he would trust his friend and simply enjoy a deep rest. The following morning, he planned not to wake for a good deal of time.
Chapter 15
Delia awoke in a sweat and panic from a horrible dream. It was Grace. Something had happened.
The dream she had just awoken from was entirely too vivid to have been anything more than an omen. The accident was fresh. And Grace was in danger.
Delia was certain that the very worst might have taken place. The sense of foreboding was overpowering. It was as though she knew without a doubt that the child would not be long for the world.
Delia did not bother dressing. Still wearing her nightgown, she rushed to the child’s bedroom.
It was early morning. The light seeped in the windows as she rushed through the halls.
But soon, Delia made it to the door. She opened it swiftly without a moments’ hesitation.
The most startling thing wa
s before her. It was the Earl. The Earl of Dulshire was sitting beside his daughter’s bed. He seemed to be watching her sleep.
Delia was suddenly humiliated. She recognized that she was wearing her nightgown and nothing more. The Earl was clearly enjoying the time of simply watching his daughter sleep and knowing she was well.
The sense of foreboding immediately faded. Delia felt foolish. How had she been in such a blind panic over nothing?
“Well good morning,” the Earl said.
“Good morning, my lord,” Delia replied with a small courtesy.
“And may I ask what has you at my daughter’s door this early and in such a state?” the Earl asked.
“My lord, I am so ashamed,” Delia said. “This is certainly not a state in which I ought to be seen. Give me about a moment and I should go change.”
Before the Earl had a chance to answer, and Delia had rushed out of the room. She had made her way to her own bedroom where she might be able to change quickly.
Her hair was another matter entirely. It took her longer than she had planned and wished that it was not so difficult to work with.
However, by the time she returned to graces room, the child was still asleep. The Earl, however, remained and still looked as perplexed as he had before.
He turned to Delia and smiled, giving her a nod.
“You certainly look better now,” he remarked with a grin.
“Yes, it had not been my intention for my employer to see me in such away,” Delia said.
“I imagine not,” the Earl replied.
“She is sleeping soundly?” Delia inquired, still trying to hush the voice of fear that had caused her to rush in before.
“Quite. What was it that you were so intent on this morning? You came in quite the hurry,” the Earl noted.
“I had a strange feeling, thanks to a terrible nightmare,” Delia answered him. “As though something were wrong. I had thought it better to check than to simply ignore it and assume that it was my imagination.”
Delia watched Grace’s chest move up and down in a perfectly good rhythm. She was alive. She was well. There was nothing at all to be concerned about.
“I am grateful that you care so much for her. Enough to allow even the smallest inkling of concern disturb your sleep. There are not many women like you. I believe there is no governess in all the world like you,” the Earl noted.
Delia had still not come to terms with the generous compliments doted on her by the Earl of Dulshire. She wondered if he was not aware that he had been so overly kind and so consistently complimentary.
Delia gave him one of her nervous smiles and felt that he had, once more, caused her to blush. It was a terribly annoying habit. One that was growing more and more frequent as he interacted with her.
“I am sorry for how our evening concluded,” the Earl said to her. Delia felt his eyes and she looked up to meet them.
“As am I, my lord. I understand that what I wished to say was not being said in the way I wished to say it,” she explained, realizing her words might be confusing even now.
“Yes, but I was overly harsh with you. I did not listen to your concerns, nor did I show you any reason to trust me with them. Please understand that I have known the Baron for quite some time. I find it difficult to believe that he would be, in any way, improper. If you feel that we did something towards you that was not right, please tell me,” the Earl urged.
Delia realized that she could hardly convince the Earl by telling him that she had a simple ‘feeling’ that the man was eyeing her strangely. That he seemed to wish to use her for his purpose. It would not make sense to a man like the Earl who trusted him.
“It was nothing, my lord. Simply a misunderstanding on my part,” she replied.
She could have explained further about the portrait, but the Earl had already determined on that as well. The Baron simply missed someone he had once been friends with. There was no convincing him of anything other, even if she did feel quite sure that the Baron had been feeling something more than grief for a friend.
The two sat quietly for a moment as Grace continued in her rest.
“You know, she looks exactly like her mother,” the Earl said suddenly.
Delia was unsure how to respond, but she looked at Grace and thought of the portrait. Indeed, the two were strikingly similar.
“Yes, my lord. From the portrait, I can see a great deal of similarities,” she finally replied.
“If you had seen my late wife in person, you would be stunned every time you looked at Grace. They two are a near perfect match. I sometimes wonder that Grace has any of my own features at all,” he remarked.
"I see it,” Delia said, smiling to herself and not noticing the Earl as she outlined some of the features of Grace’s face.
“Where?” he asked.
“Her chin. That is not the chin of her mother. It is your entirely. Did you truly not notice?” Delia asked.
The Earl looked surprised to see it for the first time.
“Goodness me, I believe you are right,” he declared.
“And the brow line. Soft like her mothers, but deepened above the eyelids like your own,” Delia added.
Such a small detail was not so easily noticed, but Delia had quite memorized the Earl’s face.
“You have quite the eye for these things,” he remarked.
“I enjoy studying the faces of people I meet. It allows me to be a better artist, I believe," Delia told him, knowing that he had never seen her love of art before.
“Ah, an artist?” the Earl asked.
“I do enjoy attempting to create beautiful things,” Delia replied.
“How is it that I have never seen your art before?” the Earl asked.
“Perhaps because I have never shown you,” Delia replied slyly. “Indeed, I do not show a great deal of people.”
“You must change that habit,” the Earl instructed. “If you are half so good an artist as you are everything else I have seen you do, you must be quite the genius,” he suggested.
“I am far from a genius my lord,” Delia said.
Once more she was flattered by his words. She considered whether or not she ought to show him any of her drawings or paintings. She had had a little time to paint since coming to be a governess. However, she still maintained some of her small works from previously.
Her sketches however, she would have to be careful with. She did not desire for the Earl to see that she had already drawn him.
How would he respond to such a thing? Would he be flattered? Or would he be humiliated?
Surely it was not appropriate for an employee to make a sketch of her employer. Particularly not one so handsome as the Earl of Dulshire.
The Earl seemed to be watching Delia and she felt nervous at this. Attempting to push away her attraction, Delia focused on the child in front of her.
“She was quite brilliant last evening, was she not?” Delia asked.
“I was astounded,” the Earl replied. “By her and by she who taught her.”
“My lord, you ought not to speak so flatteringly towards me,” Delia said. “You know as well as I do that it is hardly proper for an Earl to be so kind to his governess.”
Delia hoped she had not offended the Earl. However, she had grown bold in her time and his service. She was becoming brave. And she knew well that it would not do either of them any favors if he continued to flatter her so.
“I find it rather difficult to avoid doing so,” the Earl confessed. “But if you wish it, I shall make every effort. Having said that, I would certainly like to see some of your art.”
Delia thought for a moment and knew that she could not refuse the Earl.
“Indeed, my lord,” she began. “I shall be sure to make some presentable for you.”
“I care not whether it is presentable. I care only to see what skill you have to pass along to my daughter,” the Earl said.
Delia sensed that this might not be the entire reason he wishe
d to see her art. Nevertheless, she would be delighted to show him.
“But I do believe that she looked more like her mother even still,” the Earl continued from the previous conversation.
Delia could not deny this.
“Yes, I daresay from the portrait, she does favor her mother,” she answered him.
“You know, my wife passed away giving birth to Grace,” the Earl told her.