The Bride of Ivy Green

by Julie Klassen

“Are you?” Jane sent her a challenging look. Mercy lowered her eyes.

  Jane considered and then said, “I always assumed gentlewomen who became governesses did so when they had no other choice—as a way to keep body and soul together.”

  “My family is not insisting I earn my own bread, if that’s what you mean. I have little money of my own, but I will not starve.”

  “After managing your own school, I can completely understand your desire for some independence and an income of your own, the ability to purchase what you need without having to ask your brother or father for every penny.”

  Mercy nodded. “Yes.”

  “But a governess’s lot is not exactly known for being one of independence or significant means,” Jane pointed out. “Would you not be constrained to live in some small remote room like this one, with only a pupil or two for company, taking meals with them or by yourself? Not allowed to befriend either the family or the servants?”

  Again Mercy nodded.

  Jane asked, “Are you sure it would be an improvement over your current circumstances?”

  “No, except . . .” Mercy met her gaze. “The pupil would be Alice.”

  Jane’s mouth parted, and she leaned back, realization dawning. “Ah. . . . I should have guessed. Still, I am surprised Mr. Drake would ask you to take such a position, knowing your background.”

  “He didn’t. He admitted he’d thought of asking me earlier, as a way to ease the sting of losing Alice.”

  “How did that make you feel?”

  “At first, affronted. But that quickly faded. Why should I be offended? Am I not a gentlewoman with no other income? But then Mr. Drake asked me to help him choose a qualified candidate instead.”

  Jane watched her carefully. “But you want to do it?”

  Mercy looked down. “My parents would not approve. And I don’t want to leave Aunt Matty.”

  “What does she say?”

  “I haven’t discussed it with her yet. Besides, it’s probably too late. He has already advertised the position.”

  Jane took her hand. “I can’t tell you what to do, but I know your aunt wouldn’t want you to remain in an unhappy situation for her sake. If I were not getting married, I would invite you to come and live with me, but—”

  “Oh, Jane. Don’t let me spoil your happiness. You are about to marry a wonderful man and raise horses together. It’s perfect for you. God is good.”

  Tears blurred Jane’s vision. “I know. I am blessed. But I would be happier if my dearest friend were happy too.”

  Later that evening, Mercy set aside her book and sat up, almost hitting her head on the low sloped ceiling. She looked out the room’s small window, lost in thought. As the sun lowered in the sky, casting shadows across the room, Mercy sat there, perched on the edge of the governess’s bed. It was not a bed she had made for herself, nor would have chosen. But perhaps it was time to lie in it. The fading light felt almost tender, and she sensed the nearness of God, calming her fears. Lord, help me make the right choice.

  Her aunt Matilda’s voice interrupted her reverie. “Mercy? What are you doing sitting up here in the dark?”

  Mercy glanced over, surprised to see her aunt standing there, candle lamp in hand. She hadn’t realized it had grown so late.

  “Here, let’s light your candle . . .” Matty lifted the glass dome and lit the lamp on Mercy’s side table.

  Then she sat beside her niece and took her hand. “A penny for your thoughts?”

  Mercy told her what Mr. Drake had said and confessed she was contemplating becoming a governess.

  “Oh, Mercy, why didn’t you tell me straightaway?”

  “I didn’t want to worry you.”

  “Too late. I am already worried about you, my dear.”

  “And I am worried about you, Aunt Matty. I wouldn’t want to leave you.”

  “Oh, my dear. You think a young chit like Helena can keep me low for long? I shared a house with your mother for years and lived to tell the tale.” She winked. “Don’t you dare stay here for my sake. I would miss you terribly, of course. But it is not like you would be moving to the other side of the world.”

  “You truly wouldn’t mind?”

  “Not if you think you would be happier.”

  Mercy hesitated. “You know my parents wouldn’t approve. It would embarrass them.”

  “Let them be embarrassed. When I think of how you have been embarrassed here. . . . Oh, Mercy. I wish I had the money to set up housekeeping for the two of us somewhere.”

  “So do I.”

  “Are you sure you would not prefer to live in London with your parents? They did offer, you know.”

  “How lonely I would be in London, so far from you and all my friends. Unless you were to come with me?”

  “No, my dear. Ivy Hill is my home. I am too old to start over in a big city like London.”

  “I feel the same. My friends are here. You are here. My heart is here.”

  Matty patted her hand. “Then do what you think best.” She leaned her shoulder into Mercy’s. “Are you sure Mr. Drake does not need a baker? Or an old woman to sit at the door and lend elegance to the place?” She grinned.

  “You would indeed do so, Aunt Matty.”

  The humor in her aunt’s eyes faded. “My dear . . . one word of caution. You were hard hit when Alice was taken from you. You do know that if you pursue this course, Mr. Drake would be engaging you only temporarily. A governess does not stay forever. Would not teaching and caring for Alice again, day in and day out, make it that much more painful when you must part a second time?”

  “I suppose so.”

  “I know you are stoic, my dear. But it will not only be painful for you, but also for Alice.”

  “Your point is a valid one. I would be more concerned about Alice, except she is not pining for me any longer. She has clearly become attached to Mr. Drake. And he, in turn, dotes on her. In fact, he plans to make her his heir and change her name to Drake, to be her father in every sense of the word.”

  “I am glad to hear it. I hope you are glad as well. I know it might be difficult to find yourself replaced in the girl’s affections.”

  “Aunt Matty, I promise you, I am not considering this course to try to win back Alice’s heart. I would not do that—to him or to her. But does that mean I must deprive myself the joy of teaching her and being a part of her life for another year or two, or as long as they’ll have me?”

  “I don’t know, my dear. A part of me hates to see you postpone your own life any longer, your chance to marry. To give years to someone else’s child—years you won’t get back—that might have been spent raising your own children.”

  “Aunt Matty, you speak as though I have several promising offers of marriage to choose from. You know I already wrote to Mr. Hollander to release him.”

  “What about Mr. Kingsley?”

  Mercy shook her head. “I think he admires another woman. I have seen him with a pretty blonde a few times now. Saw them embrace. And when I asked, he said, ‘Esther is more than a friend. She is one of the family.’”

  Her aunt’s brow furrowed. “One of his brother’s wives, perhaps?”

  “No, she isn’t married. And if you had seen the way he looks at her . . .” Mercy slowly shook her head, sadness lancing her heart.

  “Perhaps she is an old family friend or a cousin?” Matilda suggested. “I am sure there is an explanation.”

  Feeling weary, Mercy sighed. “Perhaps. But even if the woman is merely a friend or relative, I have given Mr. Kingsley every encouragement. And nothing has come of it.”

  “My dear, knowing how soft-spoken and modest you are, I imagine you were very subtle in expressing your interest.”

  “I don’t know.” Mercy shook her head. “But there is no point in waiting or in wishful thinking. His affections clearly lie elsewhere.”

  Aunt Matty chewed her lip, then offered, “I could ask his mother if—”

  “No, please don’t.
She would guess why you were asking—how embarrassing for us both. And please don’t say anything to anyone about what I’m considering doing either. Not yet. I need to talk to Mr. Drake first. He may already have engaged a governess, or may prefer someone less attached to Alice. Nothing may come of it.”

  “Very well.” Aunt Matty took her hand. “Then I will pray for God’s will to be done, my dear, whatever it is.”

  Mercy nodded. “Me too.”

  chapter

  Seventeen

  Mercy’s heart pounded, and her palms perspired as she sat waiting in Mr. Drake’s office the next day. The booking clerk had gone to find him.

  The door opened, and James Drake strode in, well-dressed as always. His deep blue frock coat was exquisitely tailored and, paired with his confident posture, made him the picture of a competent gentleman of business. Intimidating as well.

  “Miss Grove, what a pleasant surprise. I did not expect you. I hope you have not been waiting long?”

  “Not at all.”

  His green eyes narrowed in concern. “Is everything all right?”

  “Yes, I . . .” Mercy swallowed. “I was wondering if you have already engaged a governess for Alice.”

  He winced and took a chair across from hers. “Not yet. I have received letters from two candidates, but neither seemed promising enough to summon here for a personal interview. I may have to advertise farther afield.” He raised a hand. “Never fear. I won’t forget my promise to include you in the selection. Nor shall I neglect Alice’s education for long.”

  “I am not worried. Nor did I come to criticize. I have come to ask for the position myself, if you have not changed your mind about my suitability.”

  He leaned back, brows rising. “Not at all. But . . . I thought we had decided the position was beneath you.”

  “You decided that. And my family would no doubt agree with you. But I . . . I need to be doing something. Something worthwhile. I miss teaching dreadfully. And I miss Alice, of course. But you mustn’t worry that I would try to usurp your role in her life. You would remain her parent, and I only her teacher.”

  He tucked his chin. “Come, Miss Grove. We both know you feel more for Alice than a mere teacher would, and vice versa. After all, you once cherished the hope of being her guardian. I am not a religious man, as you know, but I thank God that Alice has come to trust me, to care for me. Would it not be painful for you to witness that?”

  “I confess initially it stung a little to see Alice shift her affections to you. But that was a selfish, petty reaction on my part, and thankfully short-lived. With all my heart I want Alice to be loved and part of a good family. That is what I see happening between you, and I am sincerely happy for you both. But I will understand if you think it would be too confusing for Alice, or feel it would upset the relationship you have. I would never want to do that.”

  He studied her a moment, and Mercy barely resisted the urge to squirm. He crossed one leg over the other. “I believe your intentions sincere, Miss Grove. Though you cannot control the outcome, or how Alice will react to your presence.”

  “That is true. So if you think it not worth the risk, just say so.”

  He rose. “Excuse me a minute, Miss Grove.” He stepped out into the hall, and she heard his muffled call. “Alice? Could you come here, please?”

  A moment later, Alice came in, and when her gaze landed on Mercy, her pretty face split into a smile. “Miss Grove! I am so happy to see you.”

  “And I you.”

  Mr. Drake asked, “Alice, how would you feel about Miss Grove becoming your governess?”

  She whirled to him, mouth open wide. “Truly?”

  He nodded.

  “I would love nothing better!”

  Mercy’s heart squeezed, but she kept her tone even. “I should tell you, Alice, that if I become your governess, I shall take my responsibility seriously. I would expect you to study hard and to listen and behave just as you always did in Ivy Cottage. I am not here to be your . . . friend, alone.”

  “But you will still be my friend, won’t you?”

  “Of course.”

  “And you would really come to live here, in the Fairmont with us?”

  “That is the idea, yes. At least, temporarily.”

  “Why only temporary?”

  “You shan’t need a governess forever. You are growing up. Your fa—Mr. Drake might decide to send you to school one day, or hire a tutor or . . .”

  Alice turned to Mr. Drake. “You would not send me away, would you?”

  “Only if you wished it. Some young people like to go away to school, you know.”

  “I shan’t.”

  “You would have more friends. I know you miss your former classmates.”

  “Yes. But with you and Miss Grove here, I shall be perfectly happy.”

  “Then it is settled.” Mr. Drake looked at Mercy and held her gaze. “That is, if you have not changed your mind?”

  “I am more resolved than ever.”

  Alice beamed. “I must go and tell Johnny!” The girl dashed out of the room, eager to tell the young groom the good news.

  Mr. Drake gave her a sheepish smile. “She has all but adopted the lad as one of the family.” He partially closed the door Alice had flung wide. “Now, I suppose we must discuss salary and other arrangements. Does forty pounds per annum seem reasonable?”

  “Very generous.”

  “And how soon will you move your things here and begin?”

  “I won’t need long to pack.”

  He rubbed his chin as he considered. “Why not give us a week or so to prepare a room for you. It shan’t be one of the hotel’s finest, I’m afraid.”

  “I would not expect it. A small room is all I need, either near Alice or up with the servants. And I believe I recall a schoolroom upstairs, from Jane’s day?”

  He nodded. “Yes, I had planned to fit out the old schoolroom and tidy the room next to it for the governess. But now that I know it is you, I will see what can be done to make it more comfortable.”

  “You needn’t go to any trouble or expense on my account.”

  “Oh, but I want to. I want you to be as well cared for and content here as Alice was in Ivy Cottage.”

  Mercy’s heart warmed, and her doubts faded. “Thank you, Mr. Drake.”

  After dinner that night, Mercy and Matilda relaxed in the sitting room, enjoying the evening together—just the two of them. George and Helena were entertaining her parents and siblings in the drawing room. Helena preferred the formal room, while Mercy and Matilda favored the humble sitting room with its cozy but worn upholstery and patched seat cushions, framed needlework samplers on the walls, and a fireplace screen embroidered by Mercy’s great-grandmother.

  Mercy rose and moved to the desk she had once used for school correspondence. She said, “I suppose I must write to my parents. Any advice in phrasing my decision? I hope they won’t forbid me.”

  Aunt Matty replied, “I’ve been thinking about that, my dear. Let me write to your father first, remind him of the tension between his wife and sister in the early days of his own marriage. Would he not have preferred a peaceful home and more privacy, especially while still in their honeymoon period?” Matty grinned. “And might a happier daughter-in-law speed the arrival of hoped-for grandchildren?

  “I will convince him that your becoming a governess will be worth a small amount of . . . awkwardness. I shall also praise Mr. Drake—how respected and successful and admired he is in the county—and emphasize that he wanted none other than their learned and accomplished daughter to teach his prized ward.”

  “My goodness, Aunt Matty. People sometimes tease me by saying I should have been a reformer or politician, but I could say the same of you.”

  “And no wonder.” Matty winked. “Where do you think you learned it?” She nudged Mercy from the chair and took her place at the desk to write the dreaded letter.

  Mercy waited until Helena’s family had departed severa
l days later before sharing her news. After dinner, Mercy joined George and Helena in the Ivy Cottage drawing room and announced her plan.

  Her brother and his wife stared at her, mouths parted, eyes turned downward in matching expressions of stunned dismay. It might have been comical were Mercy not so nervous.

  Mercy had thought Helena might appear exultant to hear she was leaving Ivy Cottage. But she saw no barely suppressed grins or sly looks of triumph exchanged between husband and wife. Mercy guessed, however, the pair’s shocked silence had more to do with what Mercy planned to do upon leaving rather than the leaving itself. As their silence stretched, Mercy swallowed a queasy lump of dread. Was she making a mistake?

  “My dear sister,” Helena finally began, fixing her with an apologetic little smile. “I do hope nothing I have said or done has caused you to think we wished you to leave.”

  George gave his wife a fond look and patted her hand. “Of course not, my dear.”

  Uncertainty and guilt lanced Mercy. Had she misjudged Helena?

  Her sister-in-law added, “Now, if you had decided to live in London with your dear mama and papa, then of course, we would understand and support your decision. But this . . . ?”

  Her brother’s brow furrowed. “It does seem a rash course, Mercy.”

  “Why rash? I miss teaching. I believe it is what God fashioned me to do. And now I have an opportunity to teach one of my favorite former pupils. It is not as though I am moving to some remote and dangerous land as you did, George. Only to the Fairmont.”

  “That almost makes it worse!” Helena exclaimed. “Everyone will know, and think you are in desperate circumstances. It will reflect poorly on us—and on your parents. They can’t have approved of this.”

  “Aunt Matilda and I have written to them to explain.”

  Helena threw up her hands. “You are both determined to embarrass us! Mr. Grove, do talk some sense into your sister.”

  George leaned forward imploringly, elbows on his knees. “Mercy, I realize you may miss your school and the income from it. Helena and I have even discussed doing something for you, an allowance or modest annuity. I am sure if I spoke to Father and explained, he would agree.”