When Allan had gently queried the necessity for so many guests invading the house, she had said airily, “Oh, but it will be company for George, you see. Charlsby is very dull for him, when everyone is older than he is. We must entertain him.”
Allan agreed that Charlsby was very dull, but George must be well used to it by now, and if he felt the need for entertainment, he was perfectly capable of creating his own. However, there was no point in objecting to anything his mother planned. He had insisted on having Miss Winterton at the dinner table, and now he must pay the price for his wilfulness by submitting to his mother’s schemes. So he dutifully paid attention to each young lady in turn, however painful. Miss Barnett had an accent that made Allan wince. Miss Hunt had not a thought in her head beyond balls and gowns and the money she so obviously enjoyed spending. The Miss Waltons giggled constantly, and went about arm in arm, inseparable. And Miss Lorrimer, whose gown and manners at least proclaimed her to be a lady, was too shy to utter a word in his presence, but blushed and blushed again.
At least he had more sensible company in their chaperons, or rather, their husbands. Mr Lorrimer and Mr Walton were not from the upper echelons of society, but they were easy conversationalists, and Captain Hunt was a sensible man of some intelligence, who made no pretence regarding the suitability of his niece or her friend.
On his first evening at Charlsby, as the gentlemen enjoyed their port in the absence of the ladies, Hunt said, “Lord Brackenwood, I would have you understand that I disapprove of my wife’s plan to throw my niece at your head. Bella’s a silly girl and I cannot recommend her to any man, least of all a member of the nobility. She will improve, I think, but she is not ready for marriage yet. And as for Daisy Barnett… very pretty, and so forth, but the family! They are accepted into society in Liverpool, but there is some unorthodoxy there, if you take my meaning.”
“I do not, unfortunately,” Allan said.
“The girl’s a bastard,” Mr Walton said in his brusque way. “No one speaks of it, because they have enough money to pass muster, but it’s well known.”
“Yes, she is the natural daughter of a gentleman from Brinshire, who left a great deal of money to her mother and brother,” Captain Hunt said. “The elder Miss Barnett disgraced herself, so they hope to do better with the younger.”
“Your warning is well-given,” Allan said. “However, I am not minded to remarry, so you need not fear that I will be drawn in.”
“May I enquire as to the origins of your Miss Winterton?” the Captain said. “Is she connected, perhaps, with the Wintertons of Brinshire?”
“Indeed she is,” Allan said. “Her father died recently, leaving the daughters in straitened circumstances. You are acquainted with the family, Captain?”
“No, not at all, except for a son who passed through Liverpool some years ago. A sad case, for the sea took him on his very first voyage. I only met him briefly, but the case was so tragic that the name stuck with me. Jeremy Winterton. Would it distress the lady if I mention the matter to her, do you suppose?”
“I cannot say. She may be glad to meet someone who remembers the boy. Shall we re-join the ladies?”
~~~~~
‘My dear, dear sister, How are you? Is it very miserable being a governess? At least Lord Brackenwood seems to be a kindly man who does not sequester you away in the schoolroom, and does not object when you argue points with him. He sounds charming, quite delightful, but even though you eat dinner with the family and sit with them in the evening, it is not the same as being recognised as a part of normal society, and you cannot go to balls or receive invitations to any evening engagements, and I know how you love to dance, my dear Annabelle. I at least go out a little and move in society and it feels more normal whereas you must stay at Charlsby and never go anywhere ever again. How dreadful it must be. Do write and let me know how you are, truly I mean, for you always sound so cheerful and I am sure you cannot be, situated as you are. Your worried sister, Lucy.’
~~~~~
Annabelle was glad when the house began to fill with visitors, for it distracted Lady Brackenwood’s baleful glare away from her, and also relieved her of the ever persistent attentions of Mr Cross. Mostly he was kept in check by the presence of his employer, but when the earl and the dowager countess were invited to dine with one or other of the neighbouring families, Mr Cross became annoyingly attentive, and no amount of rebuff or coldness deterred him. But the arrival of other, younger and prettier, targets drew him away from Annabelle.
After the gaggle of young ladies with their parents and chaperons came a series of dashing young men. But she was surprised to find that none were of the level in society she might have expected, given Lord Brackenwood’s rank. Having seen the circles that Lord Westerlea and Robin moved in, with only a barony, she had supposed an earl might call upon rather grander acquaintances than these. Captain and Mrs Hunt were respectable enough but the others had a certain air about them that made her suspect trade.
The evenings were lively now, with music and dancing and a great deal of laughter. Even the earl smiled occasionally. Annabelle was not, naturally, a part of this, sitting quietly in a corner with her sewing, or playing for the dancers when required, but her lowly status and her mourning both rendered her ineligible to participate. She had left off her blacks now, but the half-mourning colours of grey and lavender were perfectly suitable for a governess.
She liked George Skelton very much. He was sufficiently well-bred to make the effort to have some conversation with her every night, without making her feel that he was merely doing his duty or that he had some nefarious intent. He would plop down on the sofa beside her, stretch out his long legs and fold his arms, and say companionably, “Well, Miss W, and what do you make of it so far? Who will win our eligible earl, do you suppose? For myself, I fancy that Miss Barnett is a touch ahead just now. She has a certain… je ne sai quoi, do you not agree?”
She laughed. “She is rather pretty, and such lovely blue eyes. I had a wooden doll once with eyes just that astonishing shade of blue.”
“And what happened to her? I do hope you did not lose her, or let the dogs bite off her arms?”
“Nothing so tragic. She was much loved by me, and then by Lucy and Margaret, and eventually by Fanny, who loved her so greatly that all the paint came off her face and her hair fell out.”
“Ah, that is the fate that befalls us all,” he said in such a mournful tone that she could not help laughing again. “And what of you?” he said, suddenly serious. “What is your fate, Miss Winterton? For you are wasted as a governess, I vow. Shall you throw your cap into the ring against Miss Barnett and the other young ladies, for I do not scruple to tell you that I would not wager against you in such a contest, dowry or no.”
She flushed, but answered as composedly as she could. “I have no ambition to be a countess, Mr Skelton, none whatsoever. Indeed, I do not want to be a wife of any sort.”
“Bravely spoken,” he said. “Even so, who can say when the delights of love may strike?”
“They will not strike me.”
“Yet how can you tell, if you have never yet experienced that magical delirium?”
“I did not say I had not experienced it,” she said tartly. “Only that I shall not experience it in the future. Forgive me, Mr Skelton, but I must not keep you from the other guests. Miss Barnett, I believe, is all alone at this moment.”
He rose and bowed politely, not at all discomfited by her rebuke, and made his way to Miss Barnett’s side with his ready smile. She was not to be left to her needlework for long, however, for Captain Hunt sought her out not long after.
He made some general comments, before saying, “Miss Winterton, I hope you will forgive my impertinence, but I have reason to believe that I have a most unusual connection to your family.”
“Indeed, sir?”
“You had a brother, I understand, who was lost at sea?”
“Jeremy, yes. He was the youngest of us, so he would ha
ve been seventeen now. You know something of him, Captain?”
“I do. In fact, it is my belief that I may have been one of the last people to see him alive.”
“Oh!” She clapped her hands in excitement. “You met him… in Liverpool, of course. Oh, pray tell me everything!”
“Thank goodness,” he said, with a smile. “I was so afraid that my words would distress you. But let me tell you how it came about. I had just been promoted to Captain and was awaiting my ship, so I was at rather a loose end, and making myself useful to the Rear-Admiral. He was a kindly soul, so he liked to have me meet the new midshipmen, those of a genteel nature, and ensure they were prepared for the rigours of their new life. Essentially, I took them off for tea and cakes, chatted to them for an hour or so, and then delivered them to the appropriate vessel in time for dinner. Generally I never heard of them again, but in your brother’s case the ship foundered less than a sennight later in a storm in the Irish Sea. I thought of him often — such a pleasant boy, and so enthusiastic for his new life.”
“Enthusiastic?” she said, bewildered, trying to reconcile this image with the Jeremy she remembered, terrified and protesting loudly that he would do anything rather than go to sea.
“Oh, very! Most are ambivalent, but he was keen as mustard and knew a great deal about it, too. I daresay he had read up about ships, for he knew all the terms, you know. No danger of him mistaking port for starboard. He would have done well, had he lived, despite his small stature.”
“Small stature? Captain Hunt, are you sure you have not mixed up my brother with some other boy, because Jeremy was unusually well-grown for his age, everyone said so.”
He frowned, thinking, then said, “I believe not. The memory is very clear in my mind, despite the distance in time, because of the loss of the ship so soon after.”
“And did he look like me?”
“That is impossible for me to say. His colouring… his hair… that was not unlike yours, but I do not recall the colour of his eyes. Miss Winterton, forgive me but… sometimes fondness makes a child seem more advanced than average, whereas a stranger may see the true situation without the lens of affection.”
“It must be so, in this case,” she said, subdued.
She said nothing more, merely thanking the captain for the information, but it was unsettling, all the same. Still, there was no point worrying over whether he remembered her brother or not, for Jeremy was drowned and nothing could alter that.
And then all thought of Jeremy flew out of her head, for the door opened and Plessey announced, “Mr Charles Keeling, my lady.”
7: The Suitor
Allan happened to be standing not far from Miss Winterton when Mr Keeling was announced, and heard her cry of… what? Surprise, certainly, but what else? Not fear… When he moved slightly, the better to see her face, her complexion was ashen but the wide eyes, the lips slightly apart, the admiration in her gaze told their own story. She lowered her eyes, and scrabbled about to recover the needlework which had slid off her knee. Then she bent industriously over her stitchery, but her hands trembled violently. The captain murmured something to her, too low for Allan to hear, but she shook her head, still lowered.
Mr Keeling was a fine fellow indeed, and just the sort of man to draw the eye of any young lady. He dressed well but without flamboyance, his manner as he crossed the room to make his obeisance to his hostess was confident without arrogance, and his bow was all that was proper. His smiling features betokened an amiable nature, and Allan begrudgingly allowed that he might be considered handsome, if one was not irritated by constant smiling.
His mother summoned Allan to meet the new arrival with a crook of one bony finger. He responded with greater willingness than usual, for he had a lively curiosity to know more of a man who could affect Miss Winterton so profoundly, she who was always so composed.
“Allan, may I make known to you Mr Keeling from Brinshire. Mr Keeling, my only surviving son, the Earl of Brackenwood.”
They exchanged bows, and again Keeling’s was precisely correct. He responded to Allan’s polite greetings in a suitably proper manner, neither too deferential nor too friendly.
“Do come and meet the next Earl of Brackenwood,” Allan said, for he had no wish to loiter by his mother’s side any longer than necessary. “I have no sons, but my cousin makes an admirable heir. George, may I present Mr Keeling from Brinshire. My cousin, Mr George Skelton.”
They were much of an age, the two of them. Keeling was the taller, perhaps, but George had broader shoulders, and it was clear that they liked each other on sight. And George, with his open nature, had within moments asked the question that filled Allan’s thoughts, too.
“You are from Brinshire? Why then you must know Miss Winterton! Where is she? Ah, over there, lurking in the shadows. She is governess to my cousin’s daughters, so she never puts herself forward, but she is quite charming. You must know her, I feel certain.”
Keeling started violently at the name, then looked where George indicated. He was, if anything, as pale as she was, and just as startled.
“Miss Winterton? I do know the Miss Wintertons, it is true. But… a governess! I had no idea of that. Then the rumours are true… the father has left them penniless. But I assumed… her sister is married, so…”
“With four unmarried sisters to consider, the brother-in-law could hardly support them all,” Allan said.
“I suppose not. He played his part in giving Annabelle— Miss Winterton two seasons in London, and he would have done the same for the others, had they wished it. But still… a governess.”
He had not taken his eyes off her, but now she happened to look up and in his direction. Hastily, he turned away, and Allan imputed that to the best of motives, that he was nervous and unprepared to meet her just yet, and not that he intended to ignore her. And indeed, in a few minutes more, he excused himself and made his way to her side, where she sat alone, Captain Hunt having moved away.
Even from the other side of the room, Allan could see the awkwardness of the encounter, she with her cheeks aflame, her eyes demurely lowered, and he with his ready smile slipping somewhat. He stayed only a few minutes, making his way back to Allan and George with a request to meet the other guests, and George whisked him away to the aunts. Allan was left to watch Miss Winterton try to recover her composure.
After a little while, he crept round the room to where she sat, and settled himself on the sofa beside her.
“Do you wish me to get rid of him?” he said conversationally. “One word in his ear, and he would be gone and trouble you no more.”
She looked up at him, startled, and he thought she looked like a deer, wide-eyed and innocent, and a little frightened. He was swept with the urge to protect her from the hurts of the world. She had suffered so much already, and he wished with all his heart that it was within his power to soothe her wounds and make her truly happy.
She did not pretend to misunderstand him.
“Oh… you are so kind!” she whispered. “But no. He is here as a guest of Lady Brackenwood, and it would be discourteous to send him away. It was a shock to see him again, I confess, but now that the first meeting is past, we shall be easy again. Besides, I shall see very little of him, just at dinner and no one will notice if I slip away afterwards.”
“I shall notice,” he said, before he could stop himself. “You and I… we have an affinity, Miss Winterton. We are the only two still in mourning. My mother has little compassion for my feelings with this parade of eligible young ladies.”
“Eligible?” she said, with a half smile. “Rich, perhaps, but is any one of them qualified to be a helpmeet for an earl? It is not easy to imagine.”
“Your words are apt,” he said. “But what qualities should such a person have, do you suppose?”
“Steadiness of character,” she said at once. “That is the most important — the ability to take everything as it comes. A well-rounded education. The ability to talk to anyone of an
y level, from the King down to the scullery maid. And she must not be timid. So many young women are so modest and retiring, one wonders how they will ever manage to run a household or raise their children, still less stand up to—”
“Yes?” he said, amused, for he guessed what she had been about to say. “Stand up to their husbands, perhaps?”
“No,” she confessed, a flush covering her cheeks. “I was going to mention mothers-in-law, but that is impolite. Forgive me.”
He gave a bark of laughter. “My mother is intimidating, it is true. Any woman who can stand up to her will be a creature worthy of my unparalleled admiration. Naturally, I should offer for her immediately.”
She laughed at the absurdity of it.
It was just as well that Plessey announced dinner just then, for Allan began to feel the impropriety of showing too much attention towards the governess, especially on the subject of marriage.
He led his mother through to the dining room, and the rest followed in rank order. He settled his mother, then looked around for a lady to invite to sit on his other side. He was forestalled. George had Miss Winterton on his arm, and was towing her, despite her resistance, directly towards him. He sat her down beside Allan, and then waved Captain Hunt into the seat beyond her.
“Very likely the lower end will get rowdy tonight,” he said. “Miss Winterton is much better off out of it.” Then he skipped away to find a seat lower down.
Allan understood it. George was protecting Miss Winterton from any contact with the man whose presence so distressed her. It would have been an effective scheme, if it had not been for his mother. Eyes narrowed, she glared at Miss Winterton. When Great-uncle Jeremiah made to sit beside the dowager, she said sharply, “Not you, you old fool. Mr Keeling? Mr Keeling! Do come and sit beside me.”
The Governess (Sisters of Woodside Mysteries Book 1) Page 7