“I wish I could talk to her like that.”
“Practice, that’s all it takes.”
“She’s right though, I cannot wear bright gowns.” Estelle glanced regretfully at the emerald silk Susanna was in the throes of packing.
“Oh, but you can. You cannot go to Lady Crawley under your real name or your whereabouts will be discovered in no time at all. And you obviously cannot be in mourning either. Trust me, darling, to know what is best for you.”
“Well, anyone who can get the better of Martha deserves some respect. Don’t forget this.” Estelle threw her favourite shawl on the pile to be packed.
“Ah, what memories.” Susanna picked up the shawl and held it against her face. “I remember precisely what we were doing as you set each exquisite stitch.”
“I was embroidering, just as I was supposed to be, but you seldom were.” Susanna pulled a face. “I remember one occasion upon which you spent the entire period sewing the armpits of Lucy Gibbons’ favourite gown together in revenge for…” Estelle paused. “What had Lucy done? I do not recall.”
Susanna grinned. “She informed Miss Talbot that you had helped me with the household accounting she set me as a punishment, the spiteful witch!”
“Ah yes, that was it.” Estelle sighed. “Miss Frobisher’s Academy seems a world away now. How innocent and uncomplicated our lives were then. I remember seeing you for the first time. Marianne and I were enchanted. You seemed like an exotic butterfly to us. We were quite in awe of you.”
Susanna laughed. “Nonsense!”
“Oh, but we were. You added a new dimension to our limited knowledge of the world. You were so beautiful and self-assured that we felt quite dowdy by comparison. Your lively spirit and irreverent attitude towards authority was like a breath of fresh air. We had never seen anything quite like it in our narrow world.”
“That is hardly to be wondered at, given the way your father ruled the roost with a rod of iron and eradicated all traces of spontaneity from your characters.”
“What happened to the shawl which you were making when I sewed this one?”
“It is being used as lining in the puppy’s basket, which is about all it is fit for. I never could embroider to save my life, Estelle, you know that. But you,” she added, still lovingly fingering Estelle’s shawl, “you could make a living out of it.”
“I may yet have to.”
“Nonsense.” Susanna briskly folded a petticoat and placed it on the bed. “We will resolve your problems together. It will be like old times. And who knows, you might come across Matthew as well.”
“What do you mean? I have not heard from him for a year. Do you have a letter you forget to mention?” Matthew had directed all his letters to his sisters at Susanna’s family home, knowing if he wrote to them in Hampshire the missives would not reach them.
“No, but what about the letter I gave to Marianne a few days before I was married? What news did that impart?”
“What?” Estelle sank heavily onto the side of the bed. “What letter?”
“She did not tell you?”
“No. When she came to see me that last time, she said she had wonderful news. But then we argued about Mr. Cowper and she stormed out.” Estelle paused. “Could it have been something Matthew said in his letter? How could she not have told me?”
“Well, something tells me that if we find Marianne, we will also find Matthew. How else could a young girl alone disappear without a trace?”
Estelle could think of several ways but for superstition’s sake did not voice her fears. “I hope I do not have to go to Jamaica, Susanna.”
“That will not be necessary, darling.” She smiled at Estelle’s confusion. “Did I not make myself clear? Matthew’s letter did not originate in Jamaica. It was posted in Dover.”
Chapter Four
“Oh dear, how terrible!”
“Bad news, Mother?” Alex strolled into Lady Crawford’s sitting room, dressed for riding in breeches and top boots.
“Yes indeed, from Mrs. Cleethorpe.”
“Susanna?” Alex raised a brow. “What ails her, pray? She seemed well enough when she was here the other day.”
“Oh, it is not her. She is in good health and writes very prettily to thank me for including her in my house party. What a silly goose! As if we could exclude her and dear Michael from any of our little entertainments. It was such a shame they could not stay longer. Young people are always in such a tearing hurry nowadays.”
“Then what does Susanna have to say that so distresses you?” Alex knew the answer was not likely to be straightforward. His mother was perfectly capable of going off on several tangents simultaneously if he did not keep her focused in the right direction. He swished the tails of his coat aside with a practiced flip of his wrist and seated himself as he waited for her to get to the point.
“She mentions a young lady who was until recently employed by a neighbour of hers as governess. Oh dear!” She scanned a little more of Susanna’s letter and shook her head. She looked genuinely distressed. “It seems she has been unwell for some weeks. Nothing contagious, apparently, just a debilitating fever that has sapped the poor girl’s strength. The dreadful neighbour has lost patience because she has not recovered as quickly as she ought and has turned her away without a character.”
“How shocking.” Alex forced his lips not to quirk, even as he allowed himself to be impressed. Susanna certainly did not waste time. He hadn’t really imagined she would be able to do anything about his mother’s stubborn determination not to take a companion. But she appeared to have risen to the challenge, hit upon the answer and lost no time in its instigation. “What does Mrs. Cleethorpe intend to do about the girl?”
“Well, that is just her difficulty, you see. She does not know quite what to do and writes to ask my advice. She would keep her at Fairlands but, of course, Michael’s sisters already have a governess. Besides, the girl is still too weak to undertake the education of such lively charges and would just be in the way.”
“Perhaps she could stay at Fairlands until she has completely recovered and then seek another position?”
“No, Mrs. Cleethorpe says she has considered that possibility but it will not serve. Fairlands is so full and noisy, the girl would scarce get any rest. Besides, how can she seek another position without a character? People can be so wicked. It quite makes me want to stamp my foot.”
“Do not resort to such extreme measures, Mother, I beg of you,” said Alex, failing this time to suppress his mirth. “Since she has asked for your guidance you would do much better to apply your mind to finding a solution to Mrs. Cleethorpe’s difficulty. It is just the sort of problem you usually excel at.”
“Do you think so? Well, perhaps you are right, but in this case I do not quite know what to suggest. It does seem rather hopeless. The poor child obviously needs peace and quiet and I can quite see how that would be difficult to achieve at Fairlands, what with Michael’s brothers and sisters being so delightfully boisterous.”
Alex arched a brow. Delightful was not how he would describe the behaviour of Michael’s high-spirited siblings. But he knew better than to distract his mother by entering into a debate on the issue.
“Besides, where would they sleep the girl?” She frowned, completely taken up with the problem of the unfortunate governess’s plight. “She is not exactly a servant but could not be classed as one of the family, either. And then there are the feelings of Miss Gallagher to take into account. She has been the governess at Fairlands for years. She might feel slighted if another member of her profession were to be introduced into the household. Oh dear, it is all so complicated.”
“Since Mrs. Cleethorpe had made it clear that she cannot keep the girl, Miss…what is her name, Mother?”
“Miss Tilling.”
“Since Mrs. Cleethorpe cannot take Miss Tilling in herself, try and think of someone who would have the goodness to offer her accommodation until she has recovered her strength.
I am persuaded that her occupation speaks for her respectability. As likely as not she will be the daughter of some impecunious gentlemen forced by circumstances to make her own way in the world.”
“I daresay that she is.”
“And if she is well-educated, she is also likely to be well-read.”
Alex hoped he had not overplayed his hand by mentioning books, which were his mother’s abiding passion, and refrained from making any further comment.
“I should not approve of any young lady who did not take pleasure in reading.”
“And you would be in the right of it.” Alex paused, adopting a contemplative expression. “Upon reflection, it does seem to be a hopeless case, Mother. I rather fancy that for once you must admit defeat, for I cannot think of a solution. Perhaps you should suggest to Mrs. Cleethorpe that the girl be returned to her family, if she has one to return to, that is,” he added, conveniently turning the hapless Miss Tilling into an orphan, a circumstance which he knew his mother would find too distressing for words.
“Oh no, I could not possibly do that. Mrs. Cleethorpe is relying upon me to advise her.”
“But if you cannot help and if the girl has no family to take her back…” Alex shrugged. “We must hope that someone else of Mrs. Cleethorpe’s acquaintance will be able to think of something. Although Susanna has not been married for five minutes and cannot yet know many people in the locality of her new home. Perhaps that is why she is so anxious for your advice.”
“Then Miss Tilling must come here.” She nodded her head so vigorously that her chins wobbled. “I knew I would find a solution, even if you had quite given up on me.” Alex bowed his head to hide his smile. “I should have thought of it at once if you had not distracted me. It is the perfect answer. If there is one thing we have in abundance here at Crawley Hall it is peace and quiet. And if the young lady feels strong enough, once she has settled in of course, perhaps she will oblige me by reading aloud after supper. My eyesight is not what it once was, and the print in some of the novels I read is quite shockingly small.”
“As always, Mother, you have saved the day. I quite underestimated you.”
“I dislike being bested, Alex, as you well know.”
“Indeed I do.” Alex stood, ready to take his ride at last, and brushed his mother’s lined forehead with his lips. “Why do you not reply to Mrs. Cleethorpe at once and make your suggestion, Mother? If Miss Tilling has been turned out of her employer’s home I daresay it is a matter of some urgency for her to find alternative lodgings, especially if she is feeling unwell.”
“Yes, you are right, my dear. I must relieve Mrs. Cleethorpe’s anxieties at once; and dear Miss Tilling’s too, of course.”
“I will arrange for your letter to be sent by express. If Miss Tilling accepts your invitation, perhaps we can look forward to receiving her here at Crawley Hall the day after tomorrow.” Alex, conscious of the trouble Susanna must have taken to devise this stratagem so swiftly, was determined to match her for efficiency. He could not but wonder where the obliging Miss Tilling had sprung from at such short notice but was too grateful for her timely appearance to dwell upon the reason for it.
“Yes, yes, that would be entirely convenient. I will have Middleton prepare the spare chamber in the west wing at once. The one that overlooks the small courtyard. Miss Tilling will be assured of absolute quiet in that part of the house. Now, where did I leave my eyeglasses?”
“They are on the end of your nose, Mother.”
“Oh, of course they are, how silly of me!” She touched them, just to be sure. “How could I have read Mrs. Cleethorpe’s letter without them? Now, I must write at once, there is not a moment to spare. Give me your arm, Alex, and help me to my escritoire.”
–—
Two days later the sound of a carriage rattling down the drive in the late afternoon distracted Alex from his business with his steward. Dismissing the man, he reached the drawing room window in time to perceive the Cleethorpe coachman assisting a young lady of above-average height to alight from the conveyance. He was surprised, not really having expected Susanna to act so quickly despite his earlier assurances to his mother. Gratitude washed through him. He could already feel the burden of responsibility for his mother’s welfare lifting from his shoulders.
Miss Tilling was attired in a russet-coloured travelling gown. It was trimmed with green braid and complemented with a matching bonnet that struggled to contain an abundance of wayward auburn curls. Several had escaped and trailed across her shoulders in arresting spirals, but if Miss Tilling noticed their rebellious turn she did not attempt to rectify the situation. To Alex’s eye her costume appeared rather grand for a governess. He would have expected something more serviceable and less fashionable, but the colour became her so well that he did not dwell upon the incongruity.
The girl was exceptionally thin and walked slowly up the steps to the door, which Phelps was holding open for her. She leaned heavily on the coachman’s arm the whole time. Alex raised a brow. Either she really was unwell or she was an exceptional actress. She drew closer to his vantage point and he suspected it was the former, as what little he could see of her face beneath the wide brim of her bonnet was deathly pale.
As though sensing his presence, she lifted her head and turned it in his direction. Alex let out an oath of astonishment. He had not been prepared to encounter such wild beauty. His preconceived notion that all governesses had a duty to be unremarkable was immediately brought into question.
She looked exhausted, ready to drop with fatigue. An air of vulnerability clung to her and her expression hinted at a great sadness. It overwhelmed him with a sudden desire to banish whatever demons afflicted her and persuade her to smile. Her features softened by a genuine smile would, he suspected, be an experience worth the effort required to bring it about. He quickly suppressed the thought. She was to be a temporary guest in his house, a house in which he would spend precious little time over the next few weeks. Provided Miss Tilling proved to be an acceptable companion for his mother, naturally.
Miss Tilling resumed her ascent of the steps and he could no longer see her face, but that was no impediment to his imagination. Her arresting eyes lingered in his mind, tormenting him with their compelling expression. They were quite the most remarkable eyes he had ever encountered.
If this creature really had been dismissed from her position, Alex had no difficulty believing that a jealous wife had seized upon her illness as an excuse to remove temptation from her husband’s path. What man worthy of the name would be able to resist the allure of such exquisitely orchestrated features, enhanced by those damned eyes? They were expressive pools, blinking with a combination of curiosity and intelligence as she took in her surroundings.
But what colour were they? For some inexplicable reason it was important he should know. Hazel to complement the hue of her hair, he would be willing to wager. What he did know was that in the brief seconds they had turned in his direction, he could feel the weight of a great sorrow in their reflection. Something more than a slight fever afflicted this child if he was any judge. Once again he felt the overpowering need to act as her protector. For the second time in less than a minute he found himself desirous of witnessing her remarkable features enhanced by a smile.
Miss Tilling entered the house, and his mother would receive her in the sitting room she favoured, which overlooked the terrace and caught the late afternoon sun. He would give them ten minutes to get acquainted and then make himself known to Miss Tilling.
Dismissing the lascivious thoughts the girl’s unexpected beauty had engendered, Alex reminded himself that she was here to fulfil a specific purpose. He strode towards the sitting room door, satisfied that he was once again in control of himself. He would not leave the young lady alone with his mother until he had satisfied himself that she had not deceived Mrs. Cleethorpe and inveigled her way into his house through false pretences.
“But, my dear Miss Tilling, I insist that you taste a
slice of Cook’s delicious sponge cake. I will not take no for an answer. I can see that you are fatigued from your journey but sustenance will immediately revive you. I am persuaded that it is the lightest cake you will ever have tasted—tell me at once if it is not so. Cook made it at my special request because I know how beneficial it can be to those who are not feeling quite the thing. I am afraid that if you do not take a slice she will be quite offended.”
“I fear I have put you to a vast amount of inconvenience, Lady Crawley, and will be happy to try some cake. It is the very least I can do to repay your kindness.”
And so it was that Miss Tilling’s delightful mouth was full when Alex made his entrance. His mother was fussing over her guest, watching her like a hawk in case she tried to avoid eating the cake, so he was at liberty to examine the young lady for a moment before she became aware of his presence. At close proximity, and without her bonnet, Miss Tilling’s appearance was even more arresting. Her posture was rigidly upright, which was no more than one would expect from any governess, and she was every bit as slender as he had at first observed. What he had not appreciated was the curvaceous nature of her body. When his mother succeeded in restoring her to health—a course of action which she appeared to be embarking upon without delay—it could only be enhanced. Already she was pressing Miss Tilling to take a second slice of cake, at the same time demanding to know where she had ever tasted better.
The girl noticed him at that moment and turned her luminous eyes upon him. Yes, they were hazel, quite the most amazing shade of hazel he had ever encountered. Something peculiar happened to him in the few seconds it took for his mother to also notice his appearance. He was taken over by an emotion so alien to him, he was unable to identify it. Until his mother broke the spell by addressing him, he did not think he could have removed his eyes from Miss Tilling’s lovely face if his life had depended upon it.
“Ah, Alex, there you are!” said his mother. “Alex?”
A Reason to Rebel Page 4