In truth, she had quite determined to do what she could to see the best in him. Or at least to admit to herself that there was a side of him that was little seen and very much unknown. In the end, she simply could not forget the feeling that he was just a little lost in his own world, and the idea of it had made her feel sad on and off ever since. All in all, she did not want to taint her finer feelings with anger and frustration, especially in times where there seemed little need for it.
She had no doubt that she and the Duke would, at some stage in the future, find themselves complete opposites in their opinions. Georgette knew that it would be foolish to imagine that a few moments of friendly conversation could do anything to head off the inevitable. But whilst she had no complaint with him at that moment, she would not dwell upon the things in their recent past which would, truthfully, still give her great cause for such complaint. Instead, she would try to think of him a little differently.
With a sigh, Georgette neatly folded Henrietta’s letter, determined that she would write back to her within the next few days. She was keen to put every effort into maintaining their correspondence. She rose and tucked the letter into the walnut drawer unit and, stooping to pick up the little book of Welsh translations, she settled herself down at the table.
It was the first time she had seen the Welsh words written down, and she found her eyes widening at the strangeness of it all. The only few words of Welsh she had in her vocabulary were the ones that she had learned from Eleri and Ffion. But she had only ever heard them spoken and only ever done her best to repeat them properly. With the girls being so very young, it was clear that they would never have learned how to write the beautiful Welsh words they spoke.
Georgette suddenly realized that if she were to help them maintain their heritage, just as she had promised she would to Lady Cynthia, she would have to teach them to write and spell in Welsh just the same as she was teaching them to write and spell in English.
As she looked at the words on the page, and their corresponding phonetic spellings designed to help one pronounce things properly, she felt almost as if she were looking at an entirely different alphabet. The letters were the same, certainly, but many of them were pronounced in a completely different way, and it appeared that many consonants were grouped together in a way that would never be found in English. And even those seemed to have an entirely different and somewhat surprising pronunciation to them.
With a certain amount of dismay, Georgette realized that she if she were to have any hope of maintaining and broadening the understanding of the language for her little charges, she was very much going to have to learn the language in its entirety. Quite why that had not occurred to her before, she could not begin to imagine. After all, she would certainly need a firm grasp of Welsh to be able to keep the thing alive for the girls. But she had quite presumed that the words would be written in rather an English sense, with pronunciations that could be relied upon. In truth, she could easily see that the complicated language would be very much more difficult to learn than French.
“French! I had quite forgotten,” she said quietly to herself, remembering that she ought really to be introducing some French as one of the girls’ accomplishments. As well as music, obviously.
Georgette sat back in her seat and let out a great sigh. Suddenly, the undertaking seemed absolutely huge, and she wondered quite where she and the girls would ever find time for one of their easy and comfortable nature walks through the estate, or for drawing and singing.
Suddenly, the responsibilities of a governess seemed to weigh her down rather heavily. She had been so much concerned with the idea of nourishing the girls’ souls and feeding their confidence that she had quite forgotten how much real teaching would need to be done.
For a moment, Georgette felt overwhelmed. She felt something of a fraud, wondering quite how it was she had so confidently proclaimed herself to have each and every skill and ability that a governess would require. And she had never doubted it for a moment, even thinking the whole thing very much beneath her, as thousands of governesses must have done before her.
“For goodness sake, pull yourself together,” she hissed and snapped the book shut. “If you do not believe in yourself, Georgette Darrington, nobody else shall believe in you.” And yet, despite the firmness of her own words, none of her confidence had returned.
Hearing footsteps outside, Georgette looked at the clock and realized that it must be Daisy with her dinner. Delighted by the prospect of a few moments’ discussion and diversion from her own low mood, Georgette hastily rose to her feet and opened the door.
“Daisy, you have such good timing,” Georgette said, beaming brightly at the maid as she put the laden tray down on the table outside Georgette’s room.
“Really?” Daisy said, looking confused. “But I bring your meal at the same time every day, Miss Darrington.”
“I know, but you have quite rescued me from my own low mood, and as such, your timing really is perfect.”
“Well, I am pleased of that, Miss. I would not like to think of you sitting alone in there with sad thoughts.” Daisy smiled, and Georgette wished for all the world that she were not quite so isolated from the rest of the household.
If only the rest of the servants felt as Daisy did, Georgette might have some hope of friendship. Not just a few moments snatched here and there of brief conversation, but the right to be able to get to know other people and to have them come to know her equally.
“You really are so kind, Daisy. And you always manage to cheer me up, even in just a few moments.” Georgette smiled and looked down at the tray. “Dare I take the lid off?” Georgette said with a comical wince.
“I think you might be pleasantly surprised, Miss Darrington,” Daisy said, looking suddenly rather cheerful.
Georgette, in a flurry of excitement, lifted the lid from the plate which had been placed there to keep the food warm on its long journey from below stairs. There was a bowlful of a rich stew; great pieces of beef in a thick sauce with carrots and potatoes. And there, on top of the stew, was a large and beautifully cooked suet dumpling. It all smelled divine, and Georgette’s mouth began to water.
“I can hardly believe it, Daisy,” Georgette said, realizing that she had never been so grateful to receive a meal in all her life.
She had clearly missed the pleasure of eating well since she had been at Draycott Hall, suffering the most appalling dishes. Her determination to carry on regardless had rather stopped her wanting, or even thinking about, a decent meal. It was almost as if she had resigned herself to the idea that such things were no longer hers to expect. It was just another of the things she had taken for granted in her former life.
However, her stomach rumbled, and she could have wept with happiness.
“Perhaps things are improving a little, Miss Darrington,” Daisy said with a shrug.
“Oh, Daisy, perhaps they are,” Georgette said with hope. “Perhaps things really are going to be well in the end.”
Chapter 19
“Miss Darrington, forgive me, I had meant to mention this to you some days ago, but my aunt has requested you take the children for afternoon tea at her home after church. I do hope that does not interfere with your plans for the day. I realize that I had promised you that your Sunday afternoons would be yours to do with as you wish,” the Duke spoke as he helped her into the carriage. It rather struck Georgette that nothing had changed from the very beginning, and he seemed most determined to relieve his own driver of the task.
“Not at all, Your Grace. I should be very pleased to escort the girls.” Georgette felt a little excitement at the idea of such an expedition.
It went some way to dissolving the nerves she always felt in the awkward carriage ride to church every Sunday. As the driver handed in first Ffion and then Eleri, Georgette could not help noting how very pleased the little girls looked at the prospect also. As little contact as they had with their great aunt, it was clear that they had already
realized that the woman was an ally; someone to love.
In truth, Georgette felt so buoyed up by the whole thing that she fought hard not to speak inappropriately on the way to church. The Duke seemed to have resumed his rather taciturn countenance, and she knew that she could not simply strike up a conversation uninvited. And yet she had wanted to do so very much. She had wanted to act as she had always done, talking freely and not waiting to be spoken to first, as any servant must.
“Are you looking forward to having tea with your Aunt Cynthia?” the Duke asked the question so suddenly and so awkwardly that Georgette almost gasped in surprise.
She had never heard him address the girls, except to tell them to be quiet in church. It was the first pleasant interaction she had witnessed, and Georgette realized that she was holding her breath as she waited for Eleri and Ffion to respond. When they remained silent for a moment, she turned to look at them, Ffion on one side, and Eleri on the other. She nodded reassuringly and was greatly relieved when Eleri spoke.
“Yes, Uncle Hamilton.” The little girl smiled at him, although Georgette felt sure that she did not look at her uncle entirely.
“Yes,” Ffion added and looked straight down at her lap.
“I am sure that you will have a wonderful time,” Georgette said brightly.
“Just be careful that you do not eat too much cake,” the Duke went on, and Georgette really rather hoped that he was not about to spoil everything. “When I was a little boy, not much older than you are now, Aunt Cynthia used to hand me slice after slice. Being a little boy, obviously, I did not refuse any of it, the result being that I would spend the rest of the day with a belly full of cake, quite unable to move.” He smiled at the girls, and Georgette could almost feel his awkwardness as if it were her very own.
And yet, the fact that he had simply tried was almost enough for her. Georgette had felt uncommonly moved by it and was delighted to hear Eleri give a little laugh in response. She had been amused by her uncle’s little story and had simply shown it. She had immediately forgotten everything else, his harsh words or tone, and had accepted him at that moment. What a fine little girl she was.
Ffion remained silent, as was her custom, but when Georgette looked at her, she could see that the little girl had a beautiful smile on her face. Being more sensitive than Eleri, Ffion’s countenance also clearly displayed her relief. It was as if she were enjoying a moment of respite from her cares, even if she could not put the thing into words.
The Duke, clearly having said all he could manage, nodded briefly before turning to look out of the window of the carriage once more. He did not speak again throughout the journey, and yet Georgette still felt her spirits were high. Whilst the exchange might have seemed awkward and rather inconsequential, Georgette could not fight the feeling that she had just witnessed the biggest slice of progress to have been made between an uncle and his nieces in all of their acquaintance.
Throughout the entire service, Georgette found herself quite unable to concentrate on the Reverend Merrydown’s words. However, if she were honest, she had never found him or his sermons particularly engaging. It was not the words, necessarily, but rather a very distinct lack of character in the man. She found him insipid and tiresome, and his snobbery and sycophancy made her despise him just a little.
Instead of listening, Georgette simply allowed her mind to wander freely. The preceding days had been something of a revelation to her, something quite unexpected. For one thing, she had never imagined for a moment that she would ever come to like the Duke of Draycott. Although the difficulties had not been dispelled from her mind altogether, she had allowed all that had been good in that week to rather take their place for a while.
And she found that she could not wait for the opportunity to tell Lady Cynthia what had passed between the Duke and the children in the carriage on the way over. Surely, the woman would be incredibly pleased and warmed by the whole thing; perhaps she could even take some comfort in it and hold the idea that things might work out for the best in the end.
As they left the church, the Duke passed a few words with Lady Louisa Wimborne, who seemed to wait for him in the churchyard. Once again, the young lady looked incredibly beautiful and was wearing a pink gown which made her skin look ever more youthful and bright.
Keeping her eyes down, suddenly assailed by a curious sense that she did not want to regard the pair in conversation, Georgette simply followed along behind Lady Cynthia. She had quite assumed that she and the children would simply travel in Lady Cynthia’s carriage back to her home for tea.
However, she had not taken more than a few steps when the Duke called out rather loudly,
“I shall take you in my carriage, Miss Darrington,” drawing the attention of several other churchgoers. When Georgette looked back at him, he continued, “There is more room in my carriage; you and the children will find it more comfortable.” He then turned to look back at Lady Wimborne.
As he made his rather hasty apologies to the young lady, Georgette stood a little awkwardly. She tried to busy herself with the girls, straightening their bonnet ribbons and checking over their adorable little Sunday gowns.
Georgette looked over in the direction of Lady Cynthia, who was squinting at all of them a little quizzically. Lady Cynthia then turned to look toward the wide road outside the churchyard where her carriage was parked and then back again. Georgette caught her eye for a moment before Lady Cynthia allowed her attention to wander again, this time in the direction of the Duke’s coach. At that moment, Georgette realized what was running through Lady Cynthia’s mind. The carriages were quite the same size, and she and the children would take up no more room in Lady Cynthia’s than they would in the Duke’s.
As the Duke hastened away from Lady Louisa Wimborne, Georgette rather wondered if he had simply sought an excuse to extricate himself from her presence. But, why would he? She was young and beautiful and seemed inordinately interested in him. In truth, Georgette could hardly imagine any man turning from such a young lady and with such a poor excuse.
But perhaps it was not entirely a thing designed to free him from her company; perhaps it was something else altogether. And yet Georgette could only think of one other thing. That he would simply like to accompany her and the children on the short carriage ride to his aunt’s house. Of course, she knew it could not be for the sake of her company, but perhaps it had been for the sake of the children’s?
As soon as he had excused himself, the Duke led her and the children away, hurrying once again to help her into the carriage before his driver had even the opportunity to offer his own services.
The carriage ride had been but a further ten minutes and, with the Duke saying nothing throughout, Georgette found herself entirely fixated upon his motives for accompanying them in the first place. He had made no further moves to engage the children in any way, nor had he struck up any sort of conversation with Georgette herself. He had simply looked out of the window, staring rather vaguely at the intervening countryside.
And, when they had finally drawn up outside the great door of Lady Cynthia Lyndon’s country mansion, he had maintained his seat and allowed his driver to help her out this time.
“When I am returned to Draycott Hall, Miss Darrington, I shall instruct the driver to return for you. You need not come out until you are ready, but know that there is a carriage waiting outside for you and the children as soon as you are ready.”
“Thank you, Your Grace,” Georgette said simply.
“Good afternoon,” he said, with a rather curt little nod before releasing her.
“Aunt Cynthia will already be in the drawing room,” Eleri said, her little voice full of excitement.
Both girls seemed to grab her hands simultaneously and urge her on towards the front door of Lady Cynthia’s home. “Mr Benson will show us in there,” Eleri said, indicating that she and the girls had taken tea with their aunt before.
“And who is Mr Benson?” Georgette said with a sm
ile.
“Mr Benson is the man who opens the doors,” Ffion said with childlike simplicity.
“Yes, he’s called a buttoner,” Eleri said with confidence.
“I think you might mean butler,” Georgette said with a chuckle, her heart swelling as she looked down at the adorable little faces. “Butler,” she said again, smiling at them.
“Butler,” Eleri repeated and then looked at Ffion who did the same.
“That’s right, girls. Goodness me, how quickly you learn,” Georgette said, keen to have her pride in them very much known.
Before they even reached the door, it opened inwards, and a kindly-faced man approaching his sixtieth year smiled down at them all.
“Well, it’s nice to see you, Eleri and Ffion,” he said, and the little girls glowed. “And good afternoon, Miss Darrington. Do come in,” he said.
A Governess for the Brooding Duke: A Historical Regency Romance Book Page 15