by Regina Darcy
His niece giggled. “I am sure to get presents, because I have the most loveable relations,” she said meaningfully, with an adorable glance toward her uncle.
“As do I,” he returned with mirth.
Jacqueline smiled conspiratorially at Henrietta.
“Mademoiselle, would you like to see the schoolroom now that you have finished your tea? Uncle Edward, may I take her up?”
“If Grandmamma permits,” he said.
“Go on. Miss Jamieson, do not allow the child to wear you out. I am sure that you are tired after your journey and after being kept inside the inn as if you were ill with some terrible disease. You shall rest today.”
“I am very well, thank you, Your Grace.” Henrietta turned to Jacqueline. “I should very much like to see the schoolroom, if you are willing to show it to me.”
As Jacqueline scampered out of the room, Henrietta followed at a measured pace.
Madame had told her that women too often failed to mind how they appeared from a back view. In Madame’s eyes, it was not the front, but the back, that set a woman apart in beauty. Her posture, her carriage, and her appearance were on view without the distraction of her face, Madame said.
Henrietta did not know if the Duke’s eyes were upon her as she left the room, but she walked with her shoulders straight and her head tilted up, just as Madame had tutored her. Seduction, Madame had explained, was not merely a matter of the bedchamber. A man was enticed by the allure of beauty as it displayed itself in a familiar setting. Especially, she had said, the English. Because they were so cold. Subtlety was what was needed when one was attempting to conquer the English. They shied away from the obvious.
The schoolroom was not the usual forgotten room in a cold, draught-riddled forgotten wing of the manor. It was well-furnished with plenty of light streaming in from the windows. There were shelves with books that looked inviting. Modern maps were framed and mounted upon the wall. The room had a small desk for the child and a larger one for the governess. But Lady Jacqueline was not interested in the room. It was familiar to her. She had something more important to reveal.
“I know that Uncle Edward has bought me the most enticing presents,” she whispered. “He does so every year. But Grandmamma says that we must not ruin Uncle Edward’s pleasure by prying too much into what we might be receiving, because Christmas is for giving and Uncle Edward is like a boy at Christmas.”
“Is he?” Henrietta said, her heart hardening at the child’s revelation. What she had revealed was the very thing he had robbed Henrietta of. Christmas was no longer a time to be anticipated with joy and hope. It was a time when dreams crashed into tragedy, when parents were gone and one was alone. This child had an uncle who kept the joy of the holiday within her grasp, but he had stolen it from Henrietta when she was a child.
This year, Christmas would be a time for revenge.
SIX
Unsure of how to begin her first day as governess, Henrietta was in the schoolroom by sunrise. Outside, the snow had hardened into a white lacquer that gleamed in the pale sunlight. It was lovely to behold, but she was grateful that the footmen had already built a warm fire in the room and the chill was held at bay.
“My, my, you’re up with the birds. I’m Mrs Favern, the housekeeper. I just came up to make sure that everything is in order for Lady Jaqueline’s lessons. You haven’t had your breakfast yet. Would you like to have a tray in your room in the mornings before the lessons begin? I’ll have one brought up to you now.”
“A tray in the morning would be ideal, thank you. But there’s no need to send one up. I shall manage without until lunchtime.”
“It’s not good to start the day on an empty stomach. I’ll send one up,” Mrs Favern said. She was a cheerful woman with brown hair and eyes and a round, genial demeanour. “You’ll take lunch in here with Her Ladyship?”
“That will be well, unless the Duke has other plans for Lady Jacqueline.”
“He’s out and about during the day. The family gathers together for supper. The Duke is quite busy on the estate, as you may imagine, and he’s very involved in the goings-on in the village. He’s also one of the local magistrates, so he’s sometimes called to serve in that capacity.”
“I see.” A magistrate!
The despicable rogue was a representative of the law. English law must be entirely corrupt if such a man could serve as a magistrate, Henrietta thought. But she allowed none of her thoughts to be revealed in her expression as she exchanged pleasantries with the housekeeper.
Yes, the voyage had not been a pleasant one in that sort of weather but fortunately it was over. Yes, she was without family and must make her way in the world but she hoped that she would perform to satisfaction as a governess. Yes, the Lodings had been very kind and considerate and had taken excellent care of her during her stay. Yes, it was very exciting to be starting her employment at Christmas time at Farringdon Manor and she was certain that the Manor was beautiful when decked out for the festivities.
“His Grace holds a Christmas ball every year,” Mrs Favern said. “Of course, people come from miles away. He’s very fond of Christmas and we all wonder who enjoys it more, the Duke or his niece. Naturally, as he is unmarried, the young ladies in the county have an ulterior motive for coming. Each one hopes to become the Duchess, but so far, none of them has turned his head.”
“Unusual, is it not, for a man in his position to be a bachelor?”
“Apparently, he has no interest in a marriage for position alone,” Mrs Favern confided. “I’ve even heard him say that he intends to marry for love, which is certainly a novelty amongst the peerage. If that is true, then there is a nose likely to be out of joint. Lady Charlotte Bedington has her sights set on him, but thus far, he is either unaware of her intentions or not interested in encouraging them.”
“Are the Bedingtons a family of significance in the county?”
“Oh, my, yes. The Duke and Lady Charlotte’s brother were at Oxford together. I fancy that Lady Charlotte will outdo herself at this year’s ball. She’s two-and-twenty now and likely to be in a panic at the thought that she’ll end up on the shelf. I’ve heard that she ordered her dress for the ball more than three months ago. From Paris!”
Henrietta displayed the proper reaction to the news of the Parisian dressmaker’s order and it was likely that the housekeeper had more to say, but Lady Jacqueline’s arrival in the schoolroom ended the discussion.
“Mademoiselle, I hope that your first night at Farringdon Manor offered you a pleasant rest,” the child said, speaking in formal tones but with an interest that indicated that such concern for the well-being of others was something she had learned from her family members.
“Very pleasant, petite, and thank you for asking. Mrs Favern has been very helpful. She tells me that we shall have lunch in here. Is that satisfactory?”
“Oh, yes, very much so. Uncle Edward is gone all day and he takes breakfast early. I breakfast in Grandmamma’s room. She doesn’t get up until later in the morning. Then, we dine in the evening together.”
“Excellent. Now, let’s go over some of the things you’ve learnt so far so that I may find out your level of accomplishment.”
“Uncle Edward has been teaching me so that I would not fall behind. He says it’s important for a girl to be educated just as a boy must be. Is that not funny?”
“Why?”
“Because girls marry and have families. Boys become gentlemen and serve in the government or the army or the church.”
Henrietta smiled. “Yes, but do you not think that ladies also have a part to play in those endeavours?”
Jacqueline’s eyes were round with surprise at the thought. “You sound like Uncle Edward. He says there is no power like that of a wise wife whose voice is the last one a husband hears before he goes to sleep.”
“Let us strive to ensure that you are well educated so that you can be a credit to your future husband and to your family.”
“Uncl
e Edward says that I must marry for love. However, he also says that if I want to marry a bounder or a fortune hunter, he shall horsewhip my intended.
“Uncle Edward is very funny. Grandmamma says he should not say such things, but Uncle Edward says he is too old to bother with such niceties. I do not think he is old, do you, Mademoiselle?”
“I have no opinion, petite.”
“He is two-and-thirty and he served in the army when he was young,” Jacqueline continued. “That was before I was born, of course. Cousin Anson served as well. Uncle Edward left the army when Grandpappa became ill. Is it not odd that Great-Grandmother is still alive but my grandfather and grandmother and my parents are gone? I call her Grandmamma anyway.
“Uncle Edward is a very good uncle to me. He does not want me to grieve for my parents and grandparents, you see,” the child disclosed with a wise expression on her face. “But I do not remember them. Is that wrong of me?”
Henrietta could not speak at first. Was Jacqueline fortunate because she could not remember her parents, and therefore could live her days as they came, without the need of seeking vengeance to spur her forward?
“It is not wrong, petite. Perhaps, God has given you a blessing because you have no sad memories.”
“It’s impossible to be sad in Uncle Edward’s company.”
“How very fortunate for those who are in his company, that his presence can dispel sadness. Let us see now… you seem to be very adept at mathematics, so let us try your knowledge of history.”
By the time lunch arrived, Henrietta was able to gauge the level of knowledge that Jacqueline had attained.
She had to grudgingly admit to herself that the Duke had not wasted his time in providing his niece with an education. Her academic prowess exceeded her years and she could have competed with a boy at school and held her own. When their food arrived, delivered by a smiling maid who assured Lady Jacqueline that Cook had baked a special tart for her to celebrate her first day of lessons, Jacqueline was quite ready to put the books away and continue the earlier discussion.
“Cook is a sorceress, Uncle Edward says. She bakes the finest pies you’ve ever had. She’ll be making mincemeat pies soon for the Christmas ball. I can’t wait. Although I am not old enough to attend, Uncle Edward says that I may watch from the minstrels’ gallery as long as I am quiet and if you are willing to watch with me. He says I cannot stay there at night alone. Will you watch with me, Mademoiselle?”
“Yes, if you wish it.”
Jacqueline clapped her hands. “He says we shall have our supper from the very food that is served at the ball. We shall have great fun. I hope we are close enough that we can watch Lady Charlotte Bedington.”
Lady Charlotte Bedington. That was the woman Mrs Favern had mentioned, the lady who had set her cap for the unwitting duke.
“Is she a favourite of yours?”
The young girl’s face wrinkled in displeasure. “No! She is odious! She wants to marry Uncle Edward. She disapproves of him spending so much time with me. She says that children should not be allowed to intrude.” Her lower lip trembled as she added, “Uncle Edward does not find me an intrusion.”
“I am sure that he does not,” Henrietta soothed. “Perhaps, Lady Charlotte is unaccustomed to children and does not realise that they can be a joy.”
“She doesn’t want to share Uncle Edward with anyone,” Jacqueline protested. “She wants him all to herself. When they hunt, she is so close to him that Cousin Anson says it’s a wonder she doesn’t just leap from her saddle onto his.”
“Is Lady Charlotte very pretty?”
Jacqueline shrugged. “Cousin Anson says she will soon be past her first bloom if she doesn’t find a husband. I suppose she is pretty. But she is not as pretty as you, Mademoiselle.”
At the child’s innocent statement, Henrietta smiled. Her thoughts drifted unbidden to the Duke. She wondered if he thought she was prettier than Lady Charlotte. She felt herself blush.
What a peculiar notion.
SEVEN
The days quickly assumed a routine. Lessons in the morning followed by lunch. In the afternoon, Henrietta took Jacqueline on a walk around the grounds.
One day, they helped the footmen who were bringing in holly to decorate the mantels in the manor.
Another day, they helped crack walnuts to help Cook with her baking. Henrietta realised that these were not the sort of tasks which a duke’s niece would be accustomed to undertaking, but Jacqueline enjoyed doing them and it was clear that the servants were very fond of the young girl.
It had surprised Henrietta to discover that she was expected to join the Duke and the Dowager Duchess for tea, along with her charge.
Tea was a cosy time, as Jacqueline advised her governess on which cakes were the tastiest. The Duke would quiz his niece on what she had learned, but he had such an engaging manner of doing so that Henrietta did not feel as if she were being tested as well. He plainly was very interested in his niece’s education. His grandmother, Jacqueline’s great-grandmother, added to the conversation, treating Henrietta as if she were one of them and not an employee.
Luckily, the strange fascination with the Duke that she had experienced during their first encounter had only reared its head occasionally. Although it happened in the most unusual moments, like when the Duke showed generosity or patience, Henrietta had convinced herself that she could overcome this faiblesse and snare her prey.
The conversation had moved on, whilst Henrietta was deep in thought. They were talking about the Christmas ball. Jacqueline was telling her uncle and grandmother that Henrietta was willing to sit up in the minstrels’ gallery and watch the dancing below.
“You must be sure to bring thick blankets with you,” the Duke said. “It’s cold up there. Although I suppose you will be sufficiently warm with all the activity below. A room full of people dancing ought to be able to heat up that draughty old gallery.”
“I shall tell the servants to bring you warm beverages to drink. But you must not stay up past midnight, my dear,” said the Dowager Duchess.
“Uncle Edward!” beseeched his niece.
“Your great-grandmother is wise. After midnight, the princesses have a way of turning into witches and the princes into frogs,” the Duke said.
Jacqueline looked puzzled. “But I should like to see that. Will you also turn into a frog, Uncle Edward?”
“I am a frog during the day,” he told her. “Why else do you think I am never about? It is because I am off in the pond, on my lily pad, eating flies and croaking loudly. I am restored at teatime and it is then that I assume my present form.”
“That is the story Mademoiselle read to me yesterday!” Jacqueline exclaimed.
“Not quite,” Henrietta said containing her smile. “The frog was under an enchantment.”
“And a princess kissed him and broke the spell. Uncle Edward, will you have to kiss a princess in order to be restored?”
“Every woman is a princess to the man who loves her,” the Duke answered. His gaze briefly rested upon Henrietta. “That spell is the one that endures.”
“But what about the frog—”
A newcomer entered the room. He resembled the Duke in colouring and in height, but he lacked the Duke’s amiable expression and smile. This man had a sardonic demeanour and a bold gaze that made Henrietta uncomfortable. Something about him was familiar, but she could not think of what it was that made him seem so.
“Hullo, perfect timing, I’m famished. I see that Cook has baked her excellent scones. Butter one for me, won’t you, Jacqueline? Have we a guest?”
“She is my governess,” Jacqueline said with importance.
“And a member of our household,” her grandmother added. “Anson, you have been away for so long that we thought you were lost. Miss Jamieson, this is my grandson, Anson Green.”
Lord Anson accepted the tea his grandmother poured. His eyes probed Henrietta’s features as if he were searching for something concealed.
>
“I have seen you before,” he said abruptly.
“That is unlikely,” the Duke said, his tone a trifle sharp. “She comes to us from France. I understood that you were visiting friends in Nottingham.”
“Yes… but you look very familiar to me,” Lord Anson went on as if his cousin had not spoken.
Henrietta had the same thought but could not place whence the impression came.
“I have never been to England before now,” she replied slowly. His scrutiny was troubling. He could not possibly know who she was or that she was not entirely as she presented herself.
“We are discussing the Christmas ball,” the Dowager Duchess interjected. “My dear, will you have more tea?”
Henrietta declined. With the arrival of Anson Green, the relaxed atmosphere of gathering at tea had been altered. It was just as well, she told herself. It was no good to become comfortable with the Duke’s family, regardless of how congenial they were. He was the reason that her family had endured tragedy. She could only avenge her parents by bringing him to his knees.
But how to do that?
He was not what she had expected. He was not a philanderer. He treated her with unfailing respect. He was always polite and friendly. His interest in his niece’s progress was genuine.
He was without arrogance.
She could not easily match the image of the dastardly brute who had brought such sorrow to her family with this warm-hearted, merry man who paid such unstinting courtesy to an employee and gave his family such genuine affection. But it was him, of that there could be no doubt. She wrung her hands.
Her father had told her uncle the identity of the man who had ravaged them. Uncle had been astonished that the rascal would have identified himself so boldly, but Father had guessed it was part of the man’s essential conceit that they should know who had treated them thus. There was nothing that Uncle could do about it, but he had confided in Madame and it was from Madame that Henrietta had learned the name of her mother’s attacker.