Something caught at her leg. She stumbled, almost fell.
The footsteps came, heavy near her, and the sound of a laugh.
She could not outrun him.
Maud raised the butterfly net and spun around.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Mix not memory with doubt;
—Alfred, Lord Tennyson: Maud (1855)
‘Well, well.’ Lord Melville bowed. ‘If it isn’t Miss Wilmot. When Averill told me about the charming governess who told fairy tales with such imagination, I guessed it must be you.’
He stood in front of her, blocking the path back to Pendragon Hall and safety. Perfectly attired, he was dressed in a black top hat and black riding coat, with a pair of white jodhpurs and boots. His cravat was red. His light-coloured hair was smooth, his eyes a pale blue. In his gloved hand he held a horsewhip.
A wave of nausea swept her, dizzying, utterly debilitating. She was planted in the woodland path, like a tree buffeted by breeze. She couldn’t move her legs.
She stared up at him. It was the weight of his body, the way she had been crushed beneath him, that she remembered most of all. That weight was what came back to suffocate her in the night terrors she experienced, those that Dominic had finally pulled her out from under, as if releasing her from beneath a stone.
But now that weight threatened to crush her again. His stare, his physical presence, was all it took. She couldn’t move. It was as if she had become Princess Swallowtail, trapped in the strands of the spider’s web. She wanted to run away, yet that dreadful feeling, numbing her limbs, silencing her voice, held her in terrible captivity.
‘How delightful to see you again.’ Holding the whip in one hand now, with the other he caressed its tip. ‘Still chasing butterflies, I see.’
Maud gripped the butterfly net tighter.
‘You’re just the same,’ Lord Melville said. ‘But I must say I prefer the recollection of how you looked when I last saw you.’
Again, Maud tried to speak, tried to move. Still, she stayed frozen. Her legs would not obey her.
‘You left my employ so hastily,’ he drawled. ‘It quite caught me by surprise. We’d only just begun to get to know each other. There are so many lessons you needed to learn. A governess’s place isn’t only in the schoolroom. Sometimes she needs to be governed elsewhere.’
Bile rose in Maud’s throat. ‘You’re disgusting.’
He smiled without it reaching his eyes.
‘Get away from me,’ she whispered. Her voice seemed choked in her throat.
‘Now, now. Is that any way to greet an old friend?’
‘We’re not friends.’
‘But we became very close before you left. How sorry I was when you departed like a thief in the night.’
‘I am no thief. You spread rumours about me that weren’t true.’ The accusation still stung. ‘You said I had stolen from you.’
He shrugged. ‘But you did steal something from me, my dear. You stole my pleasure.’
Maud shuddered.
‘I had anticipated us spending many more nights together. Once I’d found the way to your bedroom, I had planned to visit you there nightly. I told you so. You must recall.’
Maud clenched her fingers together around the net handle. Oh, yes, she remembered. The attic bedroom had been small enough to begin with. With Lord Melville in the room it had become stifling. Her lungs constricted as the recollection came. She felt ready to choke.
‘You’re…you’re a monster.’
He tutted. ‘Now, now. That’s not pleasant talk, is it? Hardly befitting a governess.’
He moved another step closer, his boots crushing the leaves. ‘I don’t want you telling tales about me. Especially since you have such a talent for stories.’
Maud leapt back and raised the butterfly net, like a weapon. ‘Stay away!’
He laughed. ‘What are you going to do with that net, my dear? Catch me?’
Fast footsteps and a voice came from behind her. ‘What in damnation is going on here?’
* * *
Dominic slid to a stop as he took in the scene on the woodland path in front of him. Miss Wilmot was backed against a tree stump, her butterfly net raised.
A tall, sleek man dressed in hunting attire stood nearby. He gave a low bow. ‘No need for alarm, old chap.’
‘No?’ Dominic asked shortly. ‘I’ll be the judge of that.’
In two strides he was beside Miss Wilmot. ‘Are you all right?’
She lowered the butterfly net, but that was all. Her eyes were huge in her face. When he moved a step closer, she shrank away from him.
Dominic fell back, his hands clenched. What were they doing? Had he interrupted some kind of assignation? The instant the idea came into his mind he dismissed it. There was too much tension in the air; he could sense it.
Averill swept up beside him. She had been beside him on the woodland path, chatting of inconsequential and amusing matters. Now she glided forward. ‘Allow me to make introductions. You know Lord Melville, don’t you, Dominic? He is one of my guests at Trevose Hall. He is interested in the Cornish railway.’
Lord Melville bowed. ‘Sir Dominic. We haven’t met before, but we are members of the same club in London, I believe.’
‘Indeed,’ said Dominic, adding nothing more. The last thing he wanted just then was to engage in introductions. He’d seen Melville several times at the club, always at the gaming table. Melville was not a man whom he admired, nor one he would have wanted to meet, let alone consider as an investor in his railway company, but he had no choice other than to acknowledge him, now Averill had brought the man to Cornwall as a guest.
‘I was just becoming reacquainted with Miss Wilmot.’
Dominic stared from Miss Wilmot to Lord Melville.
‘You know each other?’ he asked, mystified.
‘We’ve most certainly met before,’ Melville replied. ‘We are very well acquainted.’
Dominic narrowed his eyes. There was something deeply repellent about the man, in spite of his courteous manner. ‘How so?’
Melville smiled. ‘Miss Wilmot was in my employ for some time as a governess, among other things.’
Dominic turned to Miss Wilmot. ‘Is that true?’
Wordless and white-faced, she gave a nod.
‘I don’t remember Lord Melville’s name from your character references,’ he said to her, unable to keep the edge from his voice.
‘Ah.’ Lord Melville shook his head. ‘I’m sorry to say that doesn’t surprise me, Jago.’
Dominic looked to Miss Wilmot, but the leaf-green eyes were cast down.
‘She’s been lying to you all along!’ Averill broke in, triumphantly.
* * *
The butterfly net slipped from Maud’s fingers. She stared down at it as it lay on the ground.
She couldn’t raise her head. She couldn’t face him.
His voice came, low and penetrating. ‘What is your name?’
‘I never wanted to lie to you,’ she whispered, still staring at the empty net. It was all she could manage to say. Her whole body was still numb, frozen. Her voice came out a dry croak.
Trembling, she looked up.
The expression on his face. She’d expected it to be as hard as the granite stone of Pendragon Hall. Instead, she saw the flash of comprehension in his eyes. ‘You knew.’
He nodded. ‘I discovered it today. Your handwriting did not match the first letter of application. Tell me. Are you Miss Wilmot?’
‘Yes,’ she whispered. ‘No.’
‘You’ll never get a straight answer from her, Dominic!’ With a swirl of her skirt, Averill Trevose moved between them. ‘That’s what I’m trying to tell you!’
‘My name is Maud.’ She could barely utter her own name. ‘My name is Maud Wilmot.’
>
He exhaled. ‘Ah.’
‘Martha is my sister’s name,’ she faltered. ‘She is, was, a governess, too. She’s married now.’
Dominic stepped around Averill. ‘I’m beginning to understand. When I sent Martha Wilmot a fare to come here to Cornwall…’
‘I used the ticket.’
‘You used your sister’s name to gain employment.’
She couldn’t bear to look at him. The shame of it. The betrayal. She bowed her head again, as if an axe was about to fall. ‘Yes.’
‘I’ve never heard of a governess being so deceitful.’ Averill’s lips pursed. ‘She’s not fit to be around children. I knew there was something about her, all along. I warned you, Dominic!’
‘That is fraud,’ Lord Melville commented. ‘A potentially criminal offence.’
‘I didn’t think of that. Not at the time. And you mustn’t blame Martha,’ Maud added quickly, looking up at Dominic, almost pleading. ‘It was all my idea.’
Dominic’s dark eyebrows were still drawn together. ‘Do you mean you used your sister’s references to ensure you gained the post here at Pendragon Hall?’
She couldn’t deny it, but it sounded so much more dreadful now.
A muscle moved in his jaw. ‘I employed you as Rosabel’s governess based upon the excellence of your character, extolled by your references. You must realise what a predicament that puts me in, now I discover that they were not your own.’
‘I needed employment. My only skill is as a governess. I was desperate.’ She choked as she tried to explain, but she knew her excuses sounded weak.
Leaves rustled as he moved closer. ‘You could have come to me. Trusted me. Surely you realised that. You had more than one chance to do so.’
How she wished she had taken the opportunity!
‘And what, pray, of your moral example?’ Averill put in, with a toss of her ringlets. ‘A governess must be above reproach. Especially looking after our dear Rosabel.’
Lord Melville cleared his throat. ‘Being above reproach cannot be said of this governess, I’m afraid. I’m not surprised to hear she has no character references of her own, not after her dismissal from her previous employment with my family. No, indeed.’
Maud’s heart sank. She pressed her back against the tree trunk for support as tears stung her eyelids.
She mustn’t cry.
She hadn’t before.
She wouldn’t now.
With all the power in her, she blinked them back.
Lord Melville moved forward. Instinctively Maud slid further away from him. She wanted to run, to flee, to hide. The nightmarish sense of suffocation threatened to overwhelm her again.
‘Allow me to explain, Jago,’ he said smoothly. ‘Miss Wilmot accompanied the boys when they came to stay at my home. She often invited me to listen to her tales in the evenings. I had no idea what she was scheming. Soon enough she became all too…’ he paused ‘…familiar.’
Maud shuddered. Lord Melville was twisting it all around, but she still couldn’t bring herself to speak of what had really happened. The very thought of it made her feel ill.
‘That’s a lie.’ It was all she could say, but her voice came out merely in an anguished whisper.
‘Now, now. You’re not in a position to accuse your betters of lying,’ Lord Melville chided, with a glance of warning. ‘I believe we all know how fond this young woman is of telling stories. Too fond. And she’s here under false pretences—we all know now. One of the reasons I had to insist she was dismissed without references from my employ is that… No. I won’t go on. It isn’t appropriate to discuss such things in front of ladies.’
Melville gave Averill one of his polite smiles that made Maud feel sick.
‘I think I’ve heard enough,’ Dominic cut in.
He turned to Maud. His expression was inscrutable, his emotions reined, just as when she had first met him. ‘I should like to hear Miss Wilmot’s side of the story.’
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Get thee hence, nor come again.
—Alfred, Lord Tennyson: Maud (1855)
‘Dominic!’ Averill exclaimed. ‘Don’t tell me you’re going to listen to any more of a governess’s fairy tales!’
‘There are two sides to every story, Averill,’ Dominic replied curtly. ‘Miss Wilmot has a right to tell hers.’ He glanced at Maud. ‘But perhaps we should return to the house first.’
‘Ooh!’ Before Maud could move, Averill set her hoops whirling as she stepped between them. ‘I knew there was something about you, something sly, from the minute I met you.’
Maud stared at her. Her throat choked. Then all the words she had kept inside for so long surged out of her. They could not be stopped. Not any longer.
‘How can you be so cruel to a member of your own sex?’ she asked, shaking. ‘I am a governess, but I am also a woman, just like you. I do not deserve you to be so unkind to me, simply because I have found myself in more straitened circumstances than yours.’
Averill’s cheeks reddened. ‘How dare you speak to me like this!’
Maud raised her chin. She had nothing to lose. Not any more. ‘I didn’t ask to have fallen on hard times. It was tragedy that propelled my sister and I into poverty. I took up employment as a governess, not merely because I needed the wages, but because I believe in education. If women are not educated, they are forced to rely upon the mercy of others. Without an education, women have no chance in life. You ought to thank governesses, not revile them.’
Averill gave a little laugh, turning from Dominic to Lord Melville in an attitude of amazement.
‘Governesses ought not mingle with their employers as if they are their social equals,’ Averill declared.
‘Perhaps,’ Maud replied. ‘But I have always done my job with pride, no matter what you think of it, and nothing you can say can diminish my belief in my work.’
Taking a deep breath, she put one foot in front of the other until she was in front of Lord Melville. Every step seemed like a mile.
‘And you, Lord Melville.’ Her voice had disappeared, becoming a whisper. She forced herself to raise it, even as she trembled. ‘You treat your staff as if they are nursery toys, not people. You disgust me. You are the worst of all kinds of men. What you did to me, what you do to all the female servants in your employ, is utterly immoral. You have said that a governess must be upstanding and of good moral character. What of your character? What example do you offer your nephews?’
‘That’s libellous.’ He didn’t meet her eyes.
‘Is it?’ she demanded. ‘You and I both know what occurred when I was in your employment. You are the one who has libelled me.’
She clutched at her bodice, her breath coming in heaves. She felt as if she might be sick as the memories came flooding back. She couldn’t go on.
Then her breath came in a huge gust. ‘But that is your story. It is not mine.’
She lifted her chin. ‘No matter what happened to me, no matter what you did to me, you cannot take away my story. And it is this. That I can still see the beauty in the world. That I can hope for happiness. You cannot destroy that for me. You can only destroy it for yourself.’
Maud turned to Dominic. Everything she had ever wanted to tell him, she tried to communicate now, through her eyes. For a moment, it was as if they were the only ones in the woods, just as it had been when they had seen the White Admiral.
But no more words would come. Her throat was too choked, with tears, with pain. There was no way she could ever tell him of her feelings now. That the love she felt for him was so much more than infatuation. Only the night before, she’d reached out and kissed him. But everything between her and Dominic had been tainted now.
No one will believe your story.
Her breath kept coming in painful gasps, as she bent, trying to control her nausea. The
re was no way she could explain or defend herself, without having to reveal the full, unspeakable horror of what had happened.
A twig snapped as Dominic moved. His hands were clenched.
‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered, at last. It was all she could say, with Lord Melville looming so near. ‘For everything.’
She lifted her eyes, but their connection had snapped, broken, like a twig underfoot.
Now Dominic was staring at Lord Melville, with an expression Maud could not make out.
Without another word, Maud turned and stumbled away as fast as she could.
* * *
Dominic took a stride forward on the path. Miss Wilmot had almost disappeared, a moth-grey flicker among the trees.
‘How extraordinary,’ Melville drawled. ‘I told you that governess was a storyteller.’
Dominic tensed. Blood pumped through his veins. He wanted to go immediately after Maud, but he couldn’t let it pass. Not the way he spoke about her. The man had to be put in his place.
He shoved his fists deep into his pockets as he swung back towards Melville. ‘You caused Miss Wilmot harm. Then blamed her for it.’
‘Steady on, Jago.’ Melville’s tone remained smoothly cordial, as if they were at their club. ‘Surely you want to know if your servants lie to you. She admitted it herself. You don’t know anything about her.’
Dominic shoved his fists deeper into his pockets. ‘I know everything I need to know about her. I know her from her stories.’
His voice was calm now and it reflected a sudden certainty, deep-seated and sure. He’d told Miss Wilmot that he was a man who trusted his own judgement and he knew it now, for certain. He trusted her, too.
Melville’s lip curled. ‘I’m surprised you believe a governess’s tattle.’
Dominic couldn’t restrain himself any longer. He reached out and grabbed the horsewhip from Lord Melville’s hand. ‘I suggest you leave my land, Melville.’
The other man took a step back. ‘You can’t be serious.’
‘Deadly serious.’ Dominic tightened his grip on the horsewhip. ‘And if I hear that you ever repeat those repugnant lies about Miss Wilmot again, I’ll be coming after you, with this.’
Harlequin Historical May 2020--Box Set 2 of 2 Page 61