“I beg you would excuse me, Your Grace,” she said in a flurry when she thought he would not say a single thing.
“Miss Darrington, I cannot let you leave here in all this state,” he said, his voice very much gentler in tone.
“I am tired of my treatment in this house,” she said, her voice trembling once more. “I have been fed the most appalling food, and I have had to suffer to see those little children treated so cruelly simply as a means of upending me. And if it were not for the girls, I should hand my notices to you now.” The tears began to flow again, and she knew she must finish everything she wanted to say before she broke down into sobs. “But how can I leave them here? How can I leave them to be used by the servants as ammunition against the next governess who comes along? And yet, how can I bear to suffer another day under this roof, amidst so much hatred, and from every direction?”
“Miss Darrington.”
“I am a human being, Your Grace, and I feel I cannot take any more of this. And yet I cannot let them down.” Finally, she broke down and cried with gusto.
Try as she might, she could not take in enough breath with which to steady herself, and it seemed as if the fit of upset which had seized her would never let her go.
Suddenly, quite unexpectedly, she felt herself enveloped in the Duke’s embrace. He had taken a single step towards her and had wrapped his arms around her shoulders, pulling her into him until her face was buried in his chest. He did not speak at all, not once. He simply held her there for what seemed an inordinate length of time. Georgette could feel him gently patting her back, his grip upon her never slackening once until she finally began to breathe normally again.
Finally, he released her. Georgette stood upright but kept her eyes averted from his own. She was greatly ashamed of her appearance, knowing that her face must be red and dreadfully tear-stained and her eyes quite raw.
“Your Grace, I cannot think of a single thing to say, and I would beg that you dismiss me,” she said quietly.
“Miss Darrington, I shall not dismiss you. Not from my home, and not even from this room. But I shall release you,” he said kindly and patted her arm gently before turning to open the door for her.
“Thank you, Your Grace,” Georgette said and gracefully left the room.
Chapter 22
The next few days had passed quite uneventfully, albeit Georgette had felt rather uncomfortable. In truth, she had quite dreaded happening upon the Duke anywhere in Draycott Hall and felt herself to be somewhat scurrying about the place in a furtive manner, rather like a badger making its way into its set.
It was clear that Mrs Wells had no idea what had passed between the Duke and Georgette in that room after she had left. She had been dismissed from the room so very forcefully that the woman must have wondered if her plan had worked at all. Of course, seeing Georgette the very next day, it was likely very clear to her that the Duke had not dismissed the new governess from her position.
And there was no doubt in Georgette’s mind that that had been exactly the aim of the spiteful, stupid nurse.
However, she had fed neither the woman’s spite nor her curiosity and had chosen to say absolutely nothing of the incident. And every day, five minutes before the nurse was due to collect the children from the schoolroom, Georgette opened the door wide, clearly indicating she had nothing to hide.
“I am glad you stayed, Miss,” Ffion had said the very next morning when Georgette had arrived exhausted and puffy-eyed into the schoolroom.
She had been worried all night that the girls would simply think that she had gone. After all, by the time she had returned to the schoolroom, it was beyond half past three, and Mrs Wells had taken them from the maid who had been looking after them. It was obvious that they had both worried all night that they would not see their dear governess the following day.
“Ffion, I would never leave you voluntarily. I just could not imagine it,” she said and ruffled the girl’s hair.
It had taken two full days to settle Eleri and Ffion back down again into something like the comfortable learning they had enjoyed before Mrs Wells had been so spiteful. Defiantly, Georgette had continued with their quiet, secret Welsh lessons. She had begun to show them how the alphabet they had been learning in English worked in Welsh, and the little girls had stared with wide-eyed interest at the differences.
In truth, Georgette had felt extraordinarily nervous when teaching them, and yet she was most determined to carry on seamlessly, for fear that the girls would be convinced that any trouble caused by the nurse was in connection with their Welsh speaking.
Of course, Georgette had been very honest with the girls, making it very clear that whilst she and their Aunt Cynthia were most keen for them to embrace their own heritage, they ought only to speak Welsh with them for now. They had taken the news quite easily and had implemented the little rules designed to protect them flawlessly.
Georgette was quite heartbroken by the fact that she found it so necessary to put the girls under the pressure of keeping secrets when they were so very young. And yet she could not help thinking that it was greatly outweighed by the idea that they would be forced to conform to everything English.
When Georgette awoke on the fourth morning after her dreadful experience in the Duke’s study, it was to find a miserable looking Daisy outside her door.
“Daisy, whatever is the matter?” Georgette said with a voice full of concern. “Really, you look quite devastated.”
“I’m very sorry about the cold water again this morning, Miss Darrington,” she began, her pretty little face so downcast that Georgette began to worry.
“Daisy, you must not trouble yourself. I am washed and dressed as you can see, and I have survived the experience. In truth, I am so used to it now that it does not trouble me. And it must not trouble you, Daisy, please.”
“You might be used to the water, Miss, but you cannot possibly this breakfast,” Daisy said, casting her eyes down to the plate of toast so burned it was barely recognizable.
Not only was the toast burned to cinders, but what she thought must have been a rather sizeable piece of pound cake had been pulverized into crumbs on the plate.
“I am so sorry, Miss,” Daisy said, a tear rolling down her face. “I really thought that things were getting better.”
“Oh Daisy, do come here,” Georgette said and pulled the maid into her arms and hugged her tightly. “I really cannot bear to see you so upset over this.”
“But they are hateful, Miss, really they are.”
“I know they are, Daisy,” Georgette said, rather thinking that if she did not have Daisy to look after in that moment, she would have wept herself.
“And they really want you to leave Draycott Hall.” Daisy sniffed loudly. “But I could not stand it if you did. I would miss you so much.”
“Believe me, Daisy, I am not going anywhere. Whatever it takes, they will not win.” Georgette was surprised by her own firmness. “They really have pushed me just a little too far this week, Daisy. This is not the first time I have had this conversation. Poor little Ffion, bless her sensitive heart, was also worried that I would leave. Their behaviour is quite unforgivable, Daisy. But do not worry; I am going to put a stop to this.”
“Oh, Miss,” Daisy said, her voice full of fear.
“Do not worry, Daisy. I shall do it all on my own account. I shall not mention you at all. After all, as far as they are concerned, you are simply delivering their appalling meals. They do not know of our friendship, nor shall they ever. It is our friendship, Daisy, and not a thing to do with them.”
“Thank you, Miss Darrington,” Daisy said, straightening up and drying her eyes on her handkerchief.
“Now you just leave the tray here and do not worry about another thing,” Georgette said, her tone full of confidence.
“Yes, Miss Darrington,” Daisy said and made to turn. Then, quite suddenly, she turned back again and flung her arms about Georgette’s neck. “Good luck, Miss,”
she said, and then released her and hurried away down the corridor.
Leaving the tray on the table outside her room, Georgette walked back in for a moment and closed the door. She took several deep breaths in an attempt to steady herself. In truth, the breakfast was such an open declaration of hatred that she could not really look upon it without tears springing to her eyes. However, she knew that now was not the time for tears.
It was also not the time to placate her enemies any longer. She realized that it would not matter what she did or how much she kept their bullying to herself, they would never relent. She had rather convinced herself with one good meal that the tide had turned, and turned in her favour.
Knowing now that the tide would never turn, Georgette decided that she would give up on the notion of turning the other cheek. However, she would not take the matter to the Duke. She still did not know quite how things stood between them and, in truth, she did not relish the idea of meeting with him face-to-face.
No, she would simply go down into the kitchen and confront the housekeeper, the butler, or both. Whilst the cook had undoubtedly prepared the meal, she would have done so upon their instruction. When she had spoken to her previously about the lack of meals for the children when their luncheon had not been delivered, the woman had looked both ashamed and afraid in equal measure, and Georgette had known that she was not willingly a part of things. She was simply used as ammunition, in the way that the dreadful servants would use anybody who came into their path.
Georgette looked into the little glass that she had brought from home to make sure that her appearance was absolutely immaculate.
She was wearing a gown of dark burgundy which was very plain in its cut and rather high in the neckline. It had been a gown that she had not particularly been fond of in her London life, and yet since she had become a governess, it had become a favourite of hers. Not because she thought it made her look attractive in any way, but rather because it made her look smart and professional as she thought a governess should. And she was really rather glad that she had put the gown on that morning, for it very much summed up her current mood and her intention to undermine the household staff completely.
Taking a final deep breath and silently praying that her courage would not fail her, Georgette opened the door and marched out through it. She picked up the tray and made her way to the back stairs.
Knowing that the children would be making their way to the schoolroom at that moment, Georgette decided that she would take a slight detour when she reached the ground floor to let them know that she would be with them shortly. Ever since they had been left for a full night wondering if they would ever see her again, Georgette felt most dreadfully protective of them and would not leave them wondering for five minutes together ever again.
When she reached the ground floor, she came out into the great hallway and began to march in the direction of the schoolroom. She was pleased that her courage still seemed to be very much glowing in her breast, and she hoped that her positive and forthright demeanour would be enough to convince the children that there was absolutely nothing wrong.
“Miss Darrington.” Suddenly, the Duke was in front of her. He had rounded the corridor from his study, and the two of them had come face-to-face.
Georgette had been so startled that she almost let go of the tray.
“I beg your pardon, Your Grace. I should have been looking where I was going,” she said, not really knowing what else she ought to say to him.
The moment she had been dreading had arrived, and she could hardly look at him for shame. She knew she did not want to look upon his face and see the disgust that must surely be there. She had shouted angrily and accused and then cried like a child. She dared not even imagine what it was he must think of her.
“Not at all, Miss Darrington,” he said and gave a rather awkward smile. “Good heavens, whatever is that?” he said, suddenly distracted by the tray she was carrying and peering at it quizzically.
“In truth, Your Grace, I could not say conclusively. It would appear to be almost entirely unrecognizable as any foodstuff I myself have ever eaten.” Georgette was strangely relieved for the distraction of the tray, feeling it had taken a little of her embarrassment from her.
“Is it toast, Miss Darrington?” he went on, his confusion absolutely apparent and, if she were honest, just a little amusing.
It was clear to her that he had never chosen to look upon the spoiled meal sent to any one of his previous governesses. And whilst this particular meal was extreme in its presentation, Georgette did not feel particularly inclined to enlighten him with that fact. Rather, she would prefer him to suspect that every meal she had been served under that roof had been thus. Whilst it was bending the truth, she had been the victim for far too long to let her scruples stand in the way.
“Unfortunately, Your Grace, today it is charred beyond recognition, and I should not like to confirm its identity.”
What are these crumbs?” he went on, almost as if he had not heard her. “This plate! It is simply a little plateful of crumbs.”
“Ah, now that I think I can identify, Your Grace,” she said, beginning to enjoy herself a little.
In truth, her relief that the dreaded meeting between them had finally occurred was immense, and she rather thought that he might also have been just a little grateful for the diversion of the scorched breakfast.
“Really?” he said, looking at her doubtfully.
“Yes, I think it is pound cake, Your Grace,” she said and winced. “Or rather I believe it was before it was so brutally ground into submission.”
“By the cook?” he said, looking at her rather horrified.
“I have no idea, Your Grace.”
“And where are you going with the tray now?” he said, finally wrenching his eyes from the awful food.
“I am calling into the schoolroom to tell the girls that I shall be a little late, and then I am going downstairs to speak to the housekeeper.”
“You believe it was the housekeeper who did this?” he said, his eyebrows knitting together.
“I do not know who physically did this, Your Grace, but I am under no illusion that if it was not the housekeeper or the butler, then it was a member of staff doing their bidding, quite likely not willingly,” she said, not wanting to get the cook into trouble. “I rather think that the cook is in an awkward sort of position, Your Grace, and so I would not like to upset her. That is why I am going directly to the housekeeper or the butler with my complaint,” she said decisively, clearly letting him know that she expected nothing from him.
“Miss Darrington, please hand me the tray,” he said firmly.
“Your Grace?” she said, hearing the disappointment in her own voice.
She felt absolutely sure that he had decided the matter would go no further.
“You need not look at me like that, Miss Darrington. I shall return it below stairs,” he said, rather forcefully. He stared straight into her face, and Georgette struggled to get her breath. Something seemed really rather different about him, and she could not help thinking that it made him ever more handsome. “And you need not worry that you will be served anything that looks like this again. As long as you live under this roof, Miss Darrington, you will eat as well as any of us,” he said and took the tray from her.
“Thank you, Your Grace,” she answered, feeling a little guilty that she had doubted him.
“If you will excuse me, Miss Darrington,” he said and, despite holding the tray, he bowed before turning to leave her.
For some moments, Georgette simply stood and watched him leave, reminded a little of the day in the woodland when, finding his conversation blundering most dreadfully, he had taken his leave suddenly.
Something a little wicked within her wished to be within earshot of the servants’ area for the next few minutes, and yet she knew that it was not possible. Unless Daisy was able to hear the whole thing, it seemed likely that Georgette would never know what was about to
pass between master and servants below stairs.
Chapter 23
Georgette had been quite unable to concentrate for the rest of the day, eventually giving into her own distraction and putting an end to their lessons. Instead, she had taken Eleri and Ffion out for a nature walk on the estate. She had tasked them with collecting little stones that they might use for their arithmetic lessons instead of continually hunting under the schoolroom table for stray beans which had rolled and bounced their way there from above.
When half past three came, she found herself handing the children over to a subdued and rather contrite Mrs Wells.
“Thank you, Miss Darrington,” Mrs Wells had said, reaching to take the girls’ hands rather gently. “We’ll see you in the morning.” She finished with something that she probably assumed to be a genuine smile.
A Governess for the Brooding Duke: A Historical Regency Romance Book Page 18