A Governess for the Brooding Duke: A Historical Regency Romance Book

by Bridget Barton

  “Yes, she still lives there. She was a live-in housekeeper at the time and, when the estate was moved to the care of my nephew for the safekeeping of his nieces, there were full instructions that money should come from the estate to pay to keep the housekeeper on.” Lady Lyndon trailed off for a moment before resuming. “And that is just what my dear little Josephine was like. She obviously cared for the housekeeper a great deal and would not have seen her cast out of her home and without a job. And, of course, she no doubt hoped that the good woman would still be there one day when her girls returned.” For a moment, Lady Lyndon seemed to be blinking hard, and Georgette realized that she was greatly moved.

  “I must admit it is a great comfort to me to know that there shall be somebody in residence when I finally arrive,” Georgette said, trying to distract Lady Lyndon from her pain.

  “And I have told Mrs Evans in this letter that you are to be allowed access all about the house. You may look at whatever you wish, Miss Darrington, in order to get to the truth.”

  “I thank you for your confidence in me, Lady Lyndon.”

  “It is a confidence you have earned, my dear.” She rose to her feet and began to make her way back across the room. “Now, I shall send this off immediately and can quite imagine that it will arrive in Wales before you do.”

  “Yes, I should imagine so.”

  “Now, I shall go and speak to my driver and tell him that he is to take you back to your lodgings so that you may pack and then that he is to go to Wales with you. He shall not return without you, my dear.”

  “I thank you.”

  “And whilst I realize you shall only be gone a while, I would be most grateful if you would write to me every day so that I might have a little something of your progress before I see you again.”

  “Oh yes, of course, I shall,” Georgette said, feeling curiously excited by the idea of the little mission she had set herself.

  “And I know that you can manage the whole thing very well, my dear. I have absolutely every faith in you.”

  As the carriage rolled on, and she began to leave the countryside of Oxfordshire behind, Georgette hoped that she would not let Lady Lyndon down. Nobody had ever had absolutely every faith in her before, and she knew it. Of course, there had never been any reason before now.

  Fortunately for Georgette, Lady Cynthia’s driver seemed to be quite as amenable as her butler. He made no complaint at the great undertaking and the several days on the road. And, of course, they would have to stop for some days here and there to rest the horses. It would take a good deal of time to finally reach their destination, and yet the driver did not seem the least bit put out by it all.

  And the driver’s demeanour did not change a bit throughout the long and arduous journey.

  Having spent her entire life in London with visits to counties much further from its reach minimum, Georgette rather found herself enjoying the perpetual change in scenery. Furthermore, the driver seemed to be enjoying it very much himself also.

  They had made many stops along the way including Stratford, Wolverhampton, Shrewsbury, Oswestry, and Bala. The very moment they entered Wales, Georgette truly did feel herself to be somewhere else altogether. In another country for the first time in her life. And yet the step from one to the other was as nothing and, in truth, the weather did not even change. It was raining as they left England and still raining as they entered Wales. And yet she could not shake the feeling that she was in brand-new territory. It was exciting and a little frightening all at once.

  It was not until they made their final stop in Trawsfynydd that Georgette heard the Welsh language spoken routinely for the first time. Everywhere else they had been had been something of a mixture of Welsh and English, with English appearing to prevail. However, as they drew into the heart of North Wales, the native tongue she had so often heard on the lips of Eleri and Ffion was all that could be heard.

  Although there were but a few miles left for them to traverse to Beddgelert, the horses were tired, and Trawsfynydd seemed to be the perfect place to rest them. Furthermore, it was around time for luncheon and, if they proceeded on to Beddgelert, they might well have missed their meal entirely.

  However, John Casson, the driver, seemed somewhat unsure of himself hearing so many conversations going on all around him in Welsh.

  “MissDarrington, I do not even know how to ask for a mug of beer,” he said and winced.

  “You need not worry, John, for I shall try myself,” she said with a smile.

  “Prynhawn Da. Os gwelwchynddaefallaigennyfmwg o gwrwargyfer fy gyrrwr?” Georgette self-consciously asked the man behind the bar for a mug of beer for her driver, wondering if she was anything like correct in her words and pronunciation.

  “Yes, of course, young lady.” The man smiled at her warmly.

  “Thank you. Diolch, I mean.” She smiled back, surprised that the man had immediately spoken to her in English.

  “Won’t you be having something to drink, young lady?” The man was in his late fifties and had the most enormous gray sideburns she had ever seen in her life. He also had a great thick head of gray hair and such a warm smile that she felt herself suddenly at her ease. “We have some tea if you’d rather?”

  “Oh yes, tea would be very welcome.”

  “Have you got far to go?”

  “No, not far at all now. We are headed to Beddgelert,” she said with a smile.

  “Then you should do very well there, young lady, speaking Welsh as nicely as you do.”

  “I thank you kindly, sir. In truth, I was a little nervous.”

  “You need not be. Everybody speaks English in these parts, and they would just be pleased that you’ve tried. There’s not many English folks that do, you know.”

  “No, I had perhaps thought that would be the case,” she said and shrugged.

  “But you show a little bit of willing, young lady, and they’ll help you all they can.”

  “How very kind you are,” Georgette said and meant it.

  In truth, the ageing innkeeper had done much to settle her nerves, and she was extraordinarily grateful for it. After all, her task was going to be quite uncomfortable enough without the added worry that she could not make herself understood with the little bit of Welsh she had to her credit.

  As John Casson and Georgette sat in the window taking their drinks, the innkeeper brought them over some bread and butter.

  “My wife thought you might be hungry,” he said with a smile and, when Georgette attempted to pay, he would hear nothing of it.

  “Seems they are quite friendly in Wales, MissDarrington,” John Casson commented the moment the innkeeper had disappeared.

  “Yes, it would certainly seem that way.”

  “Then it is no wonder that dear Lady Josephine loved it here as she did,” the driver said quite out of the blue.

  “Yes, and it is the most beautiful countryside, is it not?”

  “It certainly is, Miss Darrington.” John nodded enthusiastically. “I have lived in Oxfordshire all my life, Miss, and never once come out of it. I never realized a place could be quite as breathtaking as this is.”

  “It really is, although the horses must be growing exhausted with the hills.” She laughed a little.

  It had been many miles since they had been on flat land, and the hills and mountains all around them were every bit as breathtaking as the driver had proclaimed them to be.

  On first sight, they had been almost intimidating to Georgette, who had never seen such rugged hills and so high. They seemed to grow up almost from the very center of the earth itself, rising majestically until their sharp edges pierced bright blue autumn sky.

  “To be honest, Miss Darrington, I never saw a place like it in my life. I cannot help but be glad that Lady Lyndon sent me along with you on this trip.” The driver smiled and helped himself to a slice of bread and butter.

  “And I am most grateful for your company, John. I should have found it a most difficult thing to manage
if I had been travelling post-chaise.”

  “Goodness me, it would have taken you twice as long, Miss Darrington.”

  “I daresay that is true,” she said and wondered just how much he knew of the life of his mistress’ niece, Josephine.

  Of course, Georgette knew that she ought really not to ask him anything at all. It had been a simple comment, and she ought not to press him upon it. Surely if the man had wanted to say more, he would have done just that. It would not be fair of her to put him in such an awkward position, especially since he had been so very kind to her throughout the arduous journey.

  “Are we to be at Beddgelert long, Miss Darrington?” he said conversationally.

  “I cannot tell exactly, John, but I think it likely to be several days. I should like some conversation with the housekeeper and a little time to look around the place.”

  “Well, that will be a good opportunity for the horses to take a good long rest before we head back to Oxfordshire, Miss.” He smiled and was quite content with her answer; he was not seeking information upon her reason for visiting, and Georgette was rather grateful for it.

  In truth, she did not know how she would begin to explain.

  When the horses had finished their rest, and John Casson reattached them to the carriage, Georgette began to feel herself suddenly a little nervous. In just a few short miles, they would arrive at Beddgelert and the wonderful home which Eleri and Ffion had talked about so greatly with her in the preceding weeks.

  In just an hour or two, Georgette would finally set eyes upon the place her two charges still held in their hearts.

  Chapter 29

  “It took you a little longer than expected to come to me, Nephew,” Lady Lyndon said with a warm but sad smile.

  “Then you expected me? You know why I am here?” His aunt’s cool demeanour had Hamilton entirely wrong-footed.

  “Either to finally tell me that my great-nieces are, once again, without a governess or to ask me where dear Miss Georgette Darrington is. Am I right?” Lady Lyndon finally took a seat on her favourite couch in the drawing room at Winterbourne.

  “I suppose it is both, Aunt,” he said quietly.

  In truth, Hamilton Whitehall was far from calm. He had been searching for Georgette Darrington for days, and it was only when his search finally led him to the inn just miles from Draycott Hall that he even considered that his aunt might know something of her whereabouts.

  By the end of the first day, already Hamilton had regretted his decision. His driver had returned so very quickly that Hamilton assumed that Miss Darrington had simply asked him to take her to the edge of the village from where the next post-chaise would depart for London.

  He had wanted to question his driver, of course, but had finally decided against it at first. His household had become unruly enough over the last year, and he did not wish to unsettle things further by adding gossip to it all. And his staff would undoubtedly gossip if they heard that their master had sought the governess’ whereabouts not one hour after he had dismissed her from her position. And it would undoubtedly cause all manner of suspicion to fall upon the governess, for Mrs Griffin would waste no time in suggesting to all that the Duke had dismissed Miss Darrington because something inappropriate had passed between them. The dreadful woman would not scruple to blacken Miss Darrington’s name out of spite, and Hamilton would not have it. He would not have Miss Darrington suffer any further at his hands than she had already done, even if she was no longer there to feel its worst effects.

  “And which upsets you the most, Hamilton?”

  “I beg your pardon?” He looked up at his aunt in confusion.

  “Which upsets you the most? The fact that Eleri and Ffion are likely heartbroken, or the fact that you might never set eyes upon Miss Darrington again?” She seemed extraordinarily harsh.

  “I am afraid that I do not know how to answer your question, Aunt.”

  “You mean you do not know how to answer it truthfully?” Her eyebrows were raised high.

  “Regardless of what you think of me, I do not despise the children. Quite the contrary, in fact.”

  “Oh, Hamilton, I never suspected you of despising the girls.” Lady Cynthia softened instantly.

  “I just find it so very difficult to look upon them without seeing Josephine. Really, they are just as she was at that age, and it is a cruel reminder of how very wrong I was.”

  Without a word, Lady Cynthia put her arm around his shoulders. She was so tiny in comparison to his great frame that she was having some difficulty maintaining the posture.

  “They remind me of a time when Josephine still loved me as her brother; a time when she would have come to me above all people in the world.”

  “Because she loved you dearly, Hamilton. Because you were not just her brother, but her guardian in this world when she had no other.”

  “And then Carwyn Thomas came along.”

  “He also loved her, Hamilton,” Lady Cynthia spoke with caution.

  “I know he did. I always knew that.”

  “Then I am so sorry for all that you have lost.” She released him and took his hand instead. “But life must continue, and you must find a way to come to terms with all of it.”

  “How do I come to terms with the idea that Josephine despised me in the end? How can I come to terms with seeing those dear little girls every day and being reminded of it all? If only Josephine and I had ended on good terms, Aunt, then I should not find the very sight of them so painful.”

  “And the sound of them?” Lady Cynthia was cautious once more.

  “I have no true objection.” Hamilton felt his shoulders sag. “It is just the memories their voices stir up within me. It is as if there is to be no escape from it at all.”

  “But Eleri and Ffion cannot change any of it. Even if they speak with the same tongue as you and I, would they not still remind you of her?”

  “I know the girls are not to blame. They are innocent and … and … it is not for them to solve this by changing themselves. I am the man; the adult. It is for me to solve.” He stared off into space, finally understanding Georgette’s words.

  “Hamilton?” Lady Cynthia looked concerned.

  “How can I only just have seen it?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “It is what Miss Darrington tried to tell me. That the girls should not suffer simply because I do. They should not suffer as children if I can suffer instead as a grown man.”

  And that is exactly what he had chosen to ignore. Hamilton knew at the time that he was allowing all sorts of erroneous thoughts and assumptions to cloud his judgement when he had dismissed Georgette from Draycott Hall.

  Not least was the idea that there could never be anything between them. The idea that her station in life was simply too far below his own for them to ever be a match for one another. The very thing which had first set him so far against Carwyn Thomas had now made itself known in his own life. Hamilton Whitehall, the Duke of Draycott, had fallen in love with a governess. A lady in another time, but not this one. A woman with no family, no money, and no connections. He had fallen in love just as his own sister had done nearly seven years before. He loved for love’s sake and nothing else. And yet how could he afford himself the leniency that he had denied his dear sister?

  And how that idea had eaten away at his very soul, night after night, as he lay awake with thoughts of her beautiful face and rich chestnut hair. Almost from the very moment that she had arrived at Draycott Hall, Hamilton had known himself to be somewhat affected by her. It was not just that he found her so very beautiful but that she seemed to have a quiet dignity that fascinated him.

  He had known, as he had known with all the governesses beforehand, that his staff was behaving appallingly. Not all of them, just the ones he had come to rely upon to oversee the household when he himself had lost interest in Draycott entirely. And yet Georgette Darrington had handled it with grace. She had stood squarely on, never once flinching, never on
ce truly complaining.

  In truth, whenever the poor behaviour of his staff had been mentioned by her, it was only ever in connection with the welfare of the children.

  And it had not been until he had seen the spoiled food on the tray with his own eyes that he realized quite how angry their behaviour made him. Probably not in respect of the previous governesses, but entirely in respect of Georgette Darrington herself. The idea that she had been served so appallingly in his home had caught him entirely off guard.

  It had made him so very angry, and he had known then that he never wanted her to leave Draycott. He did not want Mrs Griffin and Mr Pearson to drive her away, much less the dreadful Mrs Wells.It was then that he had realized he had fallen in love with her. From that moment on, Hamilton Whitehall had known no peace.