The Wayward Governess

by Joanna Fulford

  ‘Uncle Marcus!’

  ‘Hello, Brat.’ He lifted her into his arms so that their faces were level. ‘I hope you’ve been behaving yourself.’

  ‘I know all my letters now.’

  ‘I don’t believe you.’

  ‘I do, don’t I, Miss Davenport?’

  Claire smiled. ‘Perhaps you should say them.’

  Marcus assumed an expression of mock severity. ‘I quite agree. Otherwise I will only have your word for it.’

  Rather self-consciously Lucy proceeded to recite the alphabet faultlessly. Marcus grinned.

  ‘I am amazed! I never thought to have such a clever niece.’

  ‘Miss Davenport is teaching me to read now.’

  ‘Is she so?’ He glanced past the child to Claire. ‘Then no doubt you will be able to read to me very soon.’

  ‘Yes, I shall,’ Lucy replied, the tone suggesting total confidence. ‘Shan’t I, Miss Davenport?’

  ‘I am quite sure of it,’ said Claire.

  ‘Very well, then. Far be it from me to hinder your progress.’

  Lucy eyed him speculatively. ‘Are you going away again, Uncle Marcus?’

  ‘Going away? No, why?’

  ‘I haven’t seen you for days and days.’

  ‘I know. That is why I wondered if you would like to go riding with me this afternoon?’

  ‘Oh, yes, please!’

  ‘All right, then.’ He set the child down. Then he looked at Claire. ‘I will see you in the stable yard at two o’clock.’

  It was evident that she was to be included in the expedition. Outwardly then everything would appear the same. Only the two of them knew it was not. However, if he could keep up his part of the pretence, she could do no less. It would also give her an opportunity to thank him for his intervention in the Dobson affair. But there was more to it than that, as she quickly acknowledged: she was looking forward to seeing him, to being in his company again. In spite of herself she had missed him in these last few days.

  *

  They rode out as usual that afternoon. Claire took care to let Lucy monopolise his attention, and watched the interaction between the two of them. He kept his horse to a slow walk to allow for the pony’s shorter paces and, whenever the child spoke to him, he gave her his full attention. Now that she was gaining competence he allowed her a gentle canter, a development that brought a glow of excitement to her eyes.

  ‘Will you let me ride to hounds one day, Uncle Marcus?’

  ‘One day,’ he replied, ‘when you are more competent. Then I will take you out myself.’

  Lucy’s smile widened. ‘You can come too, Miss Davenport.’

  Claire smiled in return. ‘Well, thank you very much.’

  ‘Then we can all go together.’

  ‘We’ll see.’

  As Lucy turned to impart the news to the groom, Marcus reined his horse alongside Claire’s.

  ‘She is making excellent progress,’ he observed.

  ‘Yes, she is a natural rider.’

  ‘I did not mean in horsemanship alone. She is making progress in every way. More indeed than I could have hoped.’ He threw her a sideways glance. ‘And that is due to you.’

  Claire felt her cheeks grow warm. ‘She is a delightful pupil, bright and eager to learn.’

  ‘She has grown much attached to you in the last two months.’

  ‘And I to her.’

  For a moment or two they rode on in silence. Then she turned towards him.

  ‘I wanted to thank you for what you have done to help the Dobson family. Ellen wrote and told me.’

  ‘Did she?’

  ‘Yes. You cannot know how much it means to them. To all concerned.’

  ‘Do not cast me in the role of hero. It was done with extraordinarily little effort on my part.’

  ‘You underplay it, sir. If it were not for your intervention, their situation would be dire indeed.’

  ‘Well, at least now they won’t end in the workhouse.’

  ‘I should not have said that.’

  ‘Yes, you should.’ He paused, surveying her keenly. ‘And you were quite right, of course. But do not be under any illusions—my actions were not the result of altruism.’

  ‘What, then?’

  ‘I believe I acted in the hope of pleasing you.’

  She met his gaze, but could detect no sign of teasing. On the contrary there was an expression there that made her heart beat a little faster.

  ‘Then you succeeded.’

  ‘I’m glad to hear it. I could not long withstand your disapproval.’

  Her colour deepened. ‘I am far too outspoken.’

  ‘Yes,’ he replied, ‘but like the voice of my conscience, hard to ignore.’

  She smiled ruefully. ‘It was most presumptuous of me and I am sorry for it.’

  ‘Since you are in such a penitent mood I shall take full advantage of the fact. I intend to hold a ball at Netherclough three weeks from now. I would like you to attend.’

  Claire’s stomach turned over. ‘A ball?’

  ‘Yes, it is a genteel entertainment involving a lot of dancing.’ Seeing the speaking look that greeted his sally, he grinned.

  ‘I must refuse, sir, though I am grateful for the invitation. It would not be appropriate.’

  His smile vanished. ‘Damn it, Claire, I don’t want your gratitude, and I’ll decide what’s appropriate and what is not.’

  ‘I cannot, sir.’

  ‘Cannot or will not?’ he demanded.

  ‘Cannot, sir. You must see that. The more people who see me, the more likely that my uncle will get to hear of my whereabouts.’

  Seeing the anxiety in her face, he felt some of his annoyance ebb. ‘Your uncle has no acquaintance here who might tell him. There can be no danger, I think.’

  Claire shook her head, unconvinced. ‘All the same…’

  ‘Even if he did discover your whereabouts, I would not let him take you from Netherclough.’

  ‘He would have the law on his side.’

  ‘True, but litigation takes time, and by then you would have achieved your majority.’

  ‘How I wish I had.’

  The words were delivered with quiet passion and struck him forcibly. What kind of brute was this uncle that he should inspire such feelings of dread?

  ‘You have not long to wait now,’ he replied. ‘In the meantime it will do you good to enjoy yourself. Come to the ball, Claire.’

  ‘I have no gown.’

  ‘I’ll buy you one.’

  ‘No, sir.’

  He threw up a hand in despair. ‘I am thwarted at every turn.’

  ‘I am truly sorry, sir.’

  She really was, but knew that she could not yield the point.

  ‘Think about it,’ he said. ‘I’ll not press you for a final answer now.’

  *

  In the event all thoughts of the ball were driven out of her head for a while, because two days later Lucy contracted a feverish cold and was confined to bed. Initially it was thought to be merely a childish ailment that would probably cure itself in a day or two. However, the little girl grew more listless and lethargic and her appetite disappeared altogether. Claire grew concerned enough to go and see Marcus.

  ‘I think we should have a medical opinion, sir.’

  He reached for the bell pull. ‘I shall have Dr Greystoke summoned immediately.’

  *

  The physician was not long in coming but though he examined the child thoroughly he could find nothing more seriously wrong than a bad cold.

  ‘Will she be all right?’ asked Marcus as they walked together down the stairs.

  ‘Yes, though she may feel poorly for a few days yet.’

  ‘What brought it on?’

  ‘It is hard to say. A slight chill perhaps,’ Greystoke replied. ‘Keep her warm and quiet and see that she drinks plenty of fluids. For the time being she must have no excitement or exertion.’

  ‘Very well.’

 
‘I will call again tomorrow to see if there has been any improvement in her condition.’

  After the physician had left, Marcus returned to the sickroom to find Claire there already. He came over to stand by the bedside.

  ‘How is she?’

  ‘Sleeping now. I’ll sit with her for a while.’

  ‘Are you sure? One of the maids could do it.’

  ‘I would rather stay—for the time being.’

  ‘As you wish.’ He regarded her keenly for a moment. ‘Is there anything you need?’

  ‘Thank you, no.’

  ‘If you think of something, just let one of the servants know.’

  ‘I will.’

  ‘Very well. I will come back later and see how she does.’

  After he had left Claire watched the child sleeping for a while and then moved to the window. For some minutes she stood there, looking out onto the garden. It had been raining earlier and the fallen leaves lay dark and sodden on the pathways and flower beds where a few late blooms drooped over the dark earth. A lowering sky promised more rain. She shivered. The place seemed strangely bleak and forlorn after the previous weeks of autumn sunshine.

  Turning away from the scene, she took a glance at Lucy and, seeing that the child still slept, returned briefly to her own chamber to fetch her book. It would help to pass the time. Having accomplished her goal, she settled herself in a chair and began to read.

  *

  Lucy woke about an hour later and complained of thirst so Claire gave her some water. Then she read to her for a while until the child dozed again. Marcus returned not long after, moving quietly across the room to join her.

  ‘How is she?’

  Claire gave him a summary of the situation.

  ‘I think the sleep will do her good.’ He paused. ‘As for you, I think some luncheon is in order. You must be hungry by now. I’ve told Mrs Hughes to prepare something. Meanwhile, one of the maids will sit with Lucy.’

  His thoughtfulness touched her and she was glad to obey. Much to her surprise he led her to a small dining room where a table had been set for two. He intended to join her then. She looked around, taking in the cheerful fire and cosy furnishings. It was far more intimate than the main dining room, and at this season much warmer, too. It occurred to her that she should not be here alone with him like this, that it could only lead to further complications, but somehow she didn’t care.

  If he thought anything amiss it wasn’t apparent in his manner or expression. On the contrary, he seemed to enjoy her company and her conversation. For a while the latter turned on general topics but then, gradually, to matters closer to home.

  ‘I spoke to Trubshaw yesterday about the oldest Dobson boy. It seems he has an affinity with horses and has the makings of a fine stable lad.’

  Claire smiled. ‘I am so glad.’

  ‘The younger brother has yet to find his métier, but no doubt that will become clearer with time.’

  ‘Thank you for all you are doing for them.’

  ‘I am doing nothing at all. I mention the matter only because I thought it would interest you.’

  ‘It does, very much, and you are too modest about your role in bringing it all about.’

  ‘Now the conversation grows dull. Let us speak of other topics, I beg you.’

  ‘Then may I ask whether you have got any further with your plan to apprehend the men responsible for the attack on Harlston’s loom?’

  ‘Yes, matters are in train. With the aid of the militia I intend to arrange a trap.’

  ‘You, sir?’

  ‘Who else? This matter is dear to my heart.’

  ‘You must have been very close to your brother.’

  ‘When we were growing up I thought he was one step removed from God. Wherever he led, I followed. Usually into another scrape.’

  ‘I can imagine. You must have missed him when you went abroad.’

  ‘I did, but India provided enough excitement and challenge to keep me busy.’

  ‘And romance, too.’

  ‘Yes, that, too.’

  His fingers tightened on the stem of his glass and for a moment there was silence. For a moment she was tempted to ask, but quickly stifled the impulse. Presently the conversation moved in other directions for the remainder of the meal. At length Claire laid down her napkin.

  ‘I should go back and see how Lucy is faring.’

  ‘Let us go along together,’ he replied.

  She had not expected it, but merely inclined her head in acquiescence. They walked together back to Lucy’s chamber. He did not speak again and she would not break into his private thoughts, though the very air between them seemed charged somehow.

  Lucy was awake but clearly feverish. Marcus frowned and laid a hand on her forehead. It was hot to the touch and there was hectic colour in her cheeks. The tray of food nearby was untouched. He turned to the maid.

  ‘Fetch a cup of warm milk.’

  As the woman hastened to obey, Marcus peeled off his coat and hung it on the chair she had vacated. Having done so, he wrung out a cloth in the basin on the washstand and laid it on the child’s forehead.

  ‘It’s nice and cool,’ he told her. ‘It will help your headache.’

  Lucy regarded him with solemn eyes. ‘Shall I be better soon, Uncle Marcus?’

  ‘Of course you will.’

  ‘I want to go out riding.’

  ‘And you shall, but not today.’

  The words brought welling tears and seeing them Claire came to sit on the other side of the bed.

  ‘It is raining today, dear,’ she explained. ‘If you took Misty out he might catch a cold, too. You wouldn’t want that, would you?’

  Lucy looked thoughtful and then slowly shook her head. ‘No. He must stay in his stable.’

  ‘That’s right,’ Claire went on. ‘All the horses are staying in today.’

  ‘Even yours, Uncle Marcus?’

  ‘Even mine,’ he replied. ‘Miss Davenport is right. I should not like them to catch cold. It’s even worse for horses than for humans.’

  ‘Is it?’

  ‘Very much so. You have to take great care of them.’

  The threatened tears subsided and he gave Claire a grateful look. She had a light touch, he thought. Where had she learned it? All at once he felt curious about her earlier life. Although he knew the broad outline now, she had remained reticent about much of it. Yet was he not reticent also? On some matters anyway. Recalling their earlier conversation he felt a twinge of guilt. He could hardly demand frankness when he was not prepared to give the same.

  A few moments later the maid returned with the milk. At first Lucy refused to touch it, but by a mixture of joking and cajolery they persuaded her to drink half of it. After that she began to doze again.

  ‘I think she’ll sleep for a while now,’ he said.

  Claire nodded. ‘It’s the best thing for her.’

  ‘I’ll stay awhile. Just until she drops off. Then the maid can take over for a while.’

  ‘As you wish, sir.’

  She took her leave of him and, not wanting to return to her own chamber, made her way to the library. It was her favourite room and one she visited often for, among other things, it contained a handsome collection of novels. Having selected a new book she ensconced herself on the sofa by the fire. Outside the wind flung a squall of rain at the window. Claire smiled. In here it was warm and cosy. She curled up and settled down to read.

  However, after a few minutes she found her attention wandering and instead of the printed pages it was Marcus’s face she saw. She could not forget the gentleness and concern he showed for his young ward. It was an aspect of his character that she had not expected—such matters were usually considered a woman’s domain, beneath the notice of men. Yet he had made it his business to know how matters stood and was not above getting involved either. He must have felt a great affection for his late brother. Did he see something of Greville when he looked at Lucy?

  The thoug
ht of Greville led to others, less welcome. Marcus had told her that he had a plan for the apprehension and arrest of those responsible for his brother’s murder. It disturbed her to discover he meant to be directly involved but, knowing him as she did, she could not imagine that he would stand on the sidelines while others took the risks. What if something were to happen to him? He had been lucky once, but he might not be a second time. She shivered at the implications, unable to conceive of a world where he was not. She could endure to live without him if she had to, provided she knew he was safe and well. It was all that mattered.

  Chapter Ten

  As the doctor had predicted, Lucy soon rallied from her cold and, within another couple of days, was sitting up in bed playing with her doll. She was impatient to get up, but Marcus would not allow it and refused to be swayed by pleas or tears.

  ‘When your fever is down at night as well as the mornings then you may get up,’ he said. ‘Not until.’

  To sugar the pill he devoted considerable time to her amusement, telling her stories and playing simple card games. When he could not be with her Claire took over. Between them they kept the child calm and entertained.

  Once or twice when Lucy was resting Claire took the opportunity to go for a walk round the gardens. Having spent several days cooped up indoors, she felt the need for some fresh air and exercise. It was while she was returning from one of these excursions that she was waylaid by one of the servants who slipped out of a side door as she was passing. With some surprise she recognised the face.

  ‘Mrs Dobson! What a pleasant surprise. How are you?’

  ‘I am very well, ma’am, I thank you.’

  ‘And your children?’

  ‘Well too, ma’am.’

  ‘I am glad to hear it.’

  ‘I’ve been watching out for a chance to speak to you, Miss Davenport. I want to thank you for all that you’ve done for me and mine. Miss Greystoke told me as how you’d spoken to His Lordship on our behalf.’

  ‘I was glad to do so.’ Claire smiled. ‘I hope that you and your family are comfortably settled now.’

  ‘It’s like a dream come true, ma’am. Sometimes I have to pinch myself to make sure I’m really awake. If it wasn’t for you we’d have had to go on t’parish.’