The Wayward Governess

by Joanna Fulford

  ‘Now tell me you feel nothing for me.’

  ‘I cannot tell you that for it would be false. But this cannot be.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because it’s wrong. Surely you see that?’

  ‘No, I don’t. How can this feeling be wrong?’

  ‘Because of who we are. Because of our different situations. I will not be a rich man’s plaything, Marcus.’

  ‘Is that what you think this is about?’ he demanded, stung.

  ‘Isn’t it?’

  ‘I have never thought of you in those terms.’

  ‘Then why did you kiss me like that?’

  ‘Because I couldn’t help myself.’

  ‘Was this why you gave me the governess post here?’ she asked.

  ‘No, of course not.’ His hold slackened. ‘Do you really think me capable of such a calculating act?’

  She shook her head. ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘Besides, it was you who sought the post, remember?’

  ‘Yes, I remember.’

  For a moment there was a tense silence. Then the grey eyes narrowed.

  ‘Why? Why did you want this place so much?’

  She swallowed hard. ‘I told you—I had to earn my living.’

  ‘No, there’s more to it than that, isn’t there?’ She tried to turn away but his hands on her shoulders prevented it. ‘Tell me why, Claire.’

  ‘I…it’s something I should have told you long since. Only I did not know how.’

  Marcus waited. Unable to withstand that scorching gaze, Claire averted her eyes and for several seconds was silent. Suddenly she wanted to tell him everything and yet part of her feared his response. Would he be angry with her for withholding the truth? There was only one way to find out.

  ‘It concerns my uncle.’

  That certainly wasn’t what he had been expecting. ‘Your uncle? How so?’

  ‘He became my legal guardian after my parents died. He was…is a man of stern principles and not given to demonstrating affection, even to those nearest to him. In consequence we were never close.’

  ‘That is hardly to be wondered at.’

  ‘Although he provided for my material needs in childhood, I always knew that one day I should have to earn my living. That much had been made clear. In any case the thought of leaving did not distress me greatly. I expected that he would find me a situation.’

  ‘And did he?’

  ‘Yes, as the intended wife of one of his friends. A man old enough to be my father.’

  ‘Good God! But of course you refused the offer.’

  ‘Yes, I refused.’ She took a deep breath. ‘My uncle was furious. He said he would not be forsworn and that the marriage would take place no matter what.’

  ‘But he could not compel you to wed against your will.’

  ‘You have never met my uncle, sir. He would not hesitate to use force and told me as much. I knew him well enough to understand it was no idle threat.’

  Marcus’s jaw tightened. ‘Did he hurt you, Claire?’

  ‘No. I pretended compliance. He is so used to being obeyed he could not conceive of disobedience in any member of the family. Having lulled him into believing he had won, I packed a bag and escaped out of the bedroom window one night.’

  Torn between indignation and amusement he shook his head. ‘And then?’

  ‘After that I knew I had to get as far away as possible and to the one person in the world I knew would help me.’

  ‘You refer to Miss Greystoke, I collect. You had kept in touch then?’

  ‘I received a letter from her not long after I arrived at my uncle’s house, and I was permitted to reply—under my aunt’s direction. That was all. None of Ellen’s subsequent letters ever reached me, though she told me she wrote several times.’

  The grey eyes hardened. ‘They were kept from you?’

  ‘I believe so. But in spite of that I never forgot her. She had always been so kind to me, you see. I just prayed that when I reached Helmshaw she would still be there.’

  As he listened to the tale it seemed to Marcus that many pieces of a puzzle had just dropped into place.

  ‘It was fortunate for you that she was,’ he replied, grim-faced.

  ‘Yes, and fortunate for me that you came along when you did.’

  Remembering the incident in Gartside, he felt a surge of unwonted anger. The idea of any man laying hands on her was intolerable. He had let Jed Stone off far too lightly. And yet was he much better? Had he too not forced his attentions on her, a vulnerable young woman who was under his protection? He should keep her from harm, not be the cause of it. ‘I will not be a rich man’s plaything.’ The words smote his conscience hard.

  ‘I did what any self-respecting man would have done.’

  ‘No, not just any man.’ The hazel eyes met and held his and, seeing the expression there, he felt his heart miss a beat. ‘And then you gave me this situation and with it the means to support myself,’ she went on. ‘It was like the answer to a prayer.’

  For a moment he was silent, regarding her with a level gaze. ‘You need have no fear that I shall divulge your whereabouts to your uncle.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘I think it unlikely he would trace you this far in any case but, even if he did, he will not remove you from this house.’

  ‘I’m sorry. This might still put you in a difficult position with the law.’

  ‘But you cannot now be far off your majority.’

  ‘In a few more weeks I shall be one and twenty. Then his authority over me will be at an end.’

  Marcus knew a moment of inner relief. He had not the least fear of meeting her uncle—indeed, would rather have relished doing so—but the legal aspect of the matter was trickier. Technically the brute did have the right to remove her from the house and compel her return. In the same instant he knew he would never permit that to happen. The idea of any young woman being forced into such a marriage was repugnant, but when that woman was Claire it became unthinkable.

  He looked down into her face. ‘Why didn’t you tell me, Claire? Did you not trust me enough?’

  She met his gaze and, interpreting it correctly, her heart thumped harder. ‘I’m so sorry. I know it was wrong of me, but I was afraid you might turn me away.’

  ‘I would never turn you away. Nor would I ever let harm come to you.’

  He drew her closer and kissed her mouth, gently this time, and just for a moment. Then he drew her against him, holding her close, breathing in the fragrance of her hair. It felt right to hold her in his arms; she belonged there. He had known that feeling only once before, and had never thought to feel it again. He wanted her now with every fibre of his being, wanted to carry her to the couch and continue this to its delightful conclusion. But he knew he could not. He could not take advantage of her innocence or her vulnerability.

  Claire heard him sigh and felt his hold slacken.

  ‘Forgive me,’ he said then.

  It took every ounce of her willpower not to reach out for him, not to surrender to the heat in her blood. The memory of his kiss burned still. She could feel yet the warmth of his hands, the lean hardness of the body pressed against hers. It was like being on the brink of a lake of fire and wanting nothing more than to plunge in and be consumed. The expression in his eyes left her in no doubt he felt it, too, that he wanted her just as much. Was this what her parents had felt for each other?

  The memory jolted her back to reality. What they had felt was love, not passion merely; the kind of love that finds expression in a lifetime’s commitment, not in a dishonourable and furtive liaison. Marcus might want her, but his heart was given elsewhere. She knew beyond all doubt that she cared for him, that she had always cared for him, but she could never be his mistress. While she was not fool enough to think he would ever marry her, she could at least retain his respect and his regard. It was all she had.

  ‘I should go,’ she said.

  Unable to follow all the thought
s behind the hazel eyes, he recognized the resolution in her expression. He knew also that she was right.

  ‘Go then, Claire, if you must. I’ll not prevent you.’

  With unconcealed relief she saw him stand aside. Before he could change his mind she slipped past him and out of the door, fleeing for her room and not daring to look back.

  Grim-faced he stood on the threshold, watching her retreating figure. Part of him was tempted to go after her and to bring her back, but he knew he must not. His fists clenched at his sides and slowly he turned away, shutting the door behind him. Then he let out the breath he had unconsciously been holding. As he calmed a little and more rational thought intervened he could only regard his behaviour with abhorrence. There could be no repetition of what had happened today. Somehow he must find the self-discipline to live in the same house with her, to see her every day, and behave as though they were merely polite acquaintances brought together by circumstance. In the meantime he could only hope that she would forgive him.

  *

  True to his intention he avoided her for several days, deciding that they both needed space and time to try to put the incident behind them. In any case there were many matters requiring his attention and he spent hours closeted with Fisk, discussing estate business. Sometimes, when he looked out of the study window, he caught a glimpse of her walking in the gardens with Lucy. Once he heard them laughing together and wondered what had caused their amusement. It was good to hear a child’s laugher around the place. He wondered suddenly if Lucy was ever lonely. While she had her governess there were no children of her own age to play with. Recalling his own childhood adventures with Greville, he knew that his brother had been an important part of his life. It came to Marcus then that he would very much like to have children of his own.

  A sound at the door brought him back to the present. Mather was there to say that John Harlston had called.

  ‘Ah, yes. Show him in, Mather.’

  ‘Yes, my lord.’

  A few moments later Harlston appeared. The Viscount smiled and held out his hand.

  ‘Thank you for coming, Mr Harlston.’

  ‘My pleasure, sir.’

  Having invited his guest to sit and plied him with a glass of sherry, Marcus got straight to the point.

  ‘I have asked you here in order to enlist your help in catching the Luddite wreckers.’

  The other regarded him with some surprise. ‘I will certainly do all in my power.’ He paused. ‘You have a plan?’

  ‘Yes. I intend to set a trap.’

  ‘A trap? How?’

  ‘If you are in agreement, word will get out about the delivery of a replacement power loom to your mill. There will be a wagon and a suitable escort, but no loom—only a contingent of militia concealed beneath the tarpaulin, and another riding behind the convoy just out of sight.’

  Harlston considered it and then nodded slowly. ‘By heaven, it might just work.’

  ‘I believe it might.’ The Viscount paused. ‘However, secrecy is essential if the wreckers are to take the bait. The fewer people who know about it, the better. The escort need not know until the last minute. As for the militia, only Major Barstow needs to be told initially. I believe we may rely on his discretion.’

  ‘What about the other mill owners?’

  Marcus met and held his gaze. ‘I would prefer to say nothing for the time being.’

  ‘Very well, sir. I’m sure you have your reasons.’

  ‘I do, and they are good ones.’

  ‘Will you apprise Major Barstow or shall I?’

  ‘I will speak to him. I intend to be one of those in the convoy.’

  ‘You, sir?’ Harlston’s astonishment was plain. ‘Forgive me, but have you considered? It is most dangerous work.’

  ‘I am fully aware of that, Mr Harlston, but I have special reasons for undertaking it. I am also well able to defend myself should the need arise.’

  ‘Of course you are, but…’

  ‘It is pointless to try to dissuade me on this point. My mind is made up.’

  ‘As you will. May I ask when you are proposing to put the plan into action?’

  ‘At the end of the month. That will afford us plenty of time to see that everything is in place.’

  ‘If it works, and there is no reason to suppose it will not, the area will be rid of that murderous crew once and for all.’

  ‘That is my intention.’

  Harlston regarded him steadily for a moment. ‘May I ask why you take such a keen interest in the matter, sir?’

  ‘I cannot answer that at present. Suffice it to say that the business of catching these men is important to me for several reasons.’ Marcus paused. ‘I must ask you to trust me.’

  ‘Very well, sir.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  The two men shook hands and Harlston left a short time later. For some minutes after his visitor had gone Marcus remained alone in the study, turning over the details of the plan in his mind. It was simple but, in his experience, the simplest ideas were often the best. When Harlston said it was dangerous he had spoken the truth, but Marcus would not ask other men to do what he wasn’t prepared to do himself. Besides, this was also personal. One way or another he intended to bring Greville’s killers to justice.

  He tossed back the remainder of his sherry and rang the bell for Mather. When the butler appeared shortly afterwards he was directed to send for Mr Fisk. The land agent duly arrived a few minutes later.

  ‘You wished to speak with me, my lord?’

  ‘Yes. Am I right in thinking that one of the estate cottages is currently standing empty?’

  ‘That is correct, my lord. It has been vacant since old Ramsbottom died. He had no surviving family.’

  ‘Quite so. As it has been uninhabited for several months, the place may possibly need some renovation to make it habitable. You will put matters in train immediately.’

  ‘Certainly, my lord.’ Fisk paused. ‘Am I to understand that the cottage is about to be tenanted again?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Very good, my lord.’

  ‘That will be all, Mr Fisk.’

  Having dismissed his agent, the Viscount sat down at his desk and began to pen a letter to Ellen Greystoke.

  Chapter Nine

  Claire strolled along the river bank while Lucy ran on ahead collecting brightly coloured leaves. From time to time she would run back and show Claire a particularly prized specimen, which was duly admired. The afternoon was cool but fine and, feeling the need to escape the confines of the house, Claire had not hesitated to take her young charge out for a walk. Besides, the place was peaceful and pleasant, affording plenty of opportunity for private reflection.

  After that last momentous encounter with Marcus she had not set eyes on him, and correctly surmised it was deliberate policy. In many ways she was glad of it. He had the good sense to avoid temptation. She smiled sadly. The temptation was not all one-sided as she knew full well. She had come to care for him more deeply than she could ever have dreamed possible. It was a passion that could never be realised for to do so would render her position here untenable. She must not jeopardise that. It wasn’t going to be easy to keep a cool head. In spite of good intentions they would be thrown together, and each time would make it harder for both of them. Somehow she must find the strength of mind to resist the attraction he represented, even though every part of her longed to succumb. He could never be for her. Eventually, he would marry a lady from among the ton and bring her here to be mistress of Netherclough. His wife would be a fortunate woman, she thought.

  Claire’s twenty-first birthday was drawing near. In a little over four weeks she would be a free agent. Uncle Hector would have no authority over her and it wouldn’t matter if he did find out where she was. No doubt there would still be an unpleasant scene in which he would castigate her for ingratitude, but she could bear it. Besides, she was under the Viscount’s protection. Even her uncle would think twice before crossing s
uch a powerful man. She just hoped that Ellen would not be subjected to any disagreeable scenes for her part in all of this.

  *

  By a strange coincidence it seemed that her friend had also been thinking of her, for the following morning brought an unexpected communication:

  My Dearest Claire,

  Forgive the brevity of this letter but I have so little time to write at present. Even so, it would be most remiss of me if I did not apprise you of the most recent developments regarding the Dobson family. Yesterday I received a letter from Lord Destermere to say that he had lately been informed of their attempts to find employment following Mr Dobson’s untimely demise. His Lordship informs me that a vacancy exists in his household for a kitchen maid, and wonders if the situation would suit Mrs Dobson. The position is offered along with a vacant cottage on the Netherclough estate. Furthermore, he undertakes to find suitable situations for the eldest Dobson boys.

  I lost no time in imparting all this to Mrs Dobson, and you can well imagine the family’s joyful response on receiving the news. My own gratitude towards Lord Destermere can scarcely be expressed, but I have written to thank him for his great kindness. However, I also know that sincere thanks are due to you too, dearest Claire, for helping to bring this about. God bless you.

  Your affectionate friend,

  Ellen

  For some moments Claire was too stunned to take it in, but on rereading the letter discovered she had not been mistaken. Heart full, she felt tears start in her eyes. He had listened after all, but even in her wildest dreams she had never expected he would exert himself so far. For the first time in days her spirits soared. What had made him change his mind? Was it perhaps that he too had come close to death the night Mr Dobson was killed? Or perhaps it was just that, on reflection, he had decided it would not be too difficult to accommodate one more family at Netherclough? Did he understand what happiness he had given to others by his actions? She folded the letter carefully and put it in her pocket. No matter what it cost her she must thank him, too. It was the least she could do.

  *

  As it happened she did not need to seek him out because he came to the nursery not long afterwards. Lucy saw him first and the child’s face was lit with a smile.