The color reappeared in her cheeks. “I see.” She opened her mouth, ready to say more, but the baroness called for Rupert’s attention again. He spared Miss Sharpe an apologetic smile, then gave his other dinner companion the courtesy of listening to what she had to say.
Rupert’s coughing fit had drawn too much attention for anyone to ignore him from that point forward. Regrettably, he could not turn again for a private word with the pretty governess. Miss Sharpe kept her head down and her concentration on her plate until dinner ended, when she slipped away at the same moment the servants cleared the last dish.
Disappointment settled upon Rupert’s shoulders, heavy enough to keep him from enjoying the rest of the evening. He had wanted to find out why the governess’s eyes lit up at the mention of scientific journals. He wanted to know what she thought of the flowers present in the duke’s gardens.
He wanted to know more about her.
Chapter 5
Alice berated herself all morning long. Silently.
The moment dinner had finished the evening before, Alice had slipped away without a word to anyone. She had filled her role, balancing the table, and she wanted nothing more than to escape without any further notice.
The children went through their lessons on literature, penmanship, and French with ease. They were advanced in those areas. Then she settled Lord James with supplies to draw out a map of his father’s estate, while she gave the girls samplers to practice their embroidery.
Pretending to read a book, Alice sat in a chair where she could easily watch them all. The duke would send Lord James to school in January, as befitting a future duke, but she would keep the girls until their mother deemed it time for them to leave the schoolroom as their eldest sister had.
Alice had only caught glimpses of Lady Josephine, who was nineteen years of age. She had sat near her mother at dinner the evening before, between two handsome men at least a decade older than she.
Lady Josephine had captivated and charmed her companions throughout dinner. She had a beauty that many Englishwomen would long for, with deep brown hair and eyes, and a petite form that spoke of grace and good breeding. It was interesting, the differences between the duke’s eldest daughter and Alice. Lady Josephine was younger but had more influence and command of a room than Alice would ever experience.
Not that Alice envied her that. In all her time learning how to disappear until someone wanted her, Alice did not think she would enjoy having people constantly on the watch for what she would say or do.
She had not even managed to hold the attention of one gentleman, nor to converse without taking offense. The memory of that horrid scene made her groan aloud.
“Is something the matter, Miss Sharpe?” Lady Isabelle, the eldest of the children in the schoolroom, sounded concerned. “Are you ill?”
Alice peered over the edge of her book, keeping her expression neutral. “I am perfectly well, thank you. I merely read something disturbing.” She turned a page in the book. “Continue your work.”
Lady Isabelle exchanged a glance with her sister, who huffed. Perhaps the two had hoped an ill governess meant a cessation of their work.
Lady Rosalind stabbed her embroidery needle rather harshly into the fabric. “I wish there was more to do than school. Mother and Father’s guests all leave today, and that was the only interesting thing about this week.”
“That and meeting our new governess,” Lady Isabelle corrected with haste. The girl would make a politician a wonderful wife someday. “But at least they are not all going.”
The younger sister paused in her work to glare across the table at Lady Isabelle. “You cannot mean to be glad about Mr. Gardiner. He might look young, but he’s as grumpy as an admiral.”
Although curious how many admirals the child had met, Alice remained silent. She listened instead. Why would the gentleman remain behind when the other members of the visiting party dispersed?
Shrugging in an almost French manner, Lady Isabelle answered without lifting her gaze from her work. “I do like looking at him, though. He can be kind, too. But I dislike when he speaks of his horrid little insects.” She shivered dramatically.
Lord James paused in his map-making to glower at both sisters. “He still won’t let me use his nets or cages to catch spiders.”
Lady Rosalind sniffed. “As well he should not. You would do something horrid with them.”
Alice turned another page in her book, though she had not read a single line in some time.
“But Father commissioned Mr. Gardiner, so should he not do as we say?” Lord James asked, a near whine creeping into his tone.
As governess, it was time to speak up. “Your father also commissioned me to teach you until January, Lord James. But I do not do what you say.”
The boy muttered, “Then what’s the point of being a duke’s son?”
Alice lowered her book to her lap. “Dear me. I hope you do not mean to be tyrannical with your powers. I would imagine the point of being a lord has less to do with telling others what to do and more with how to exert your influence in a way that betters the country and the people under your care.”
Although the boy did not appear chastened, he furrowed his brow and went back to work on his map.
Mr. Gardiner had been commissioned by the Duke of Montfort to do something. Something regarding insects. Given his state the day before, capturing and observing the butterfly, whatever it was took his full attention.
How fortunate he was to have not only a subject which interested him, but which others found useful.
A knock at the door brought everyone’s gaze up. Alice rose. “Enter, please.” She put down the poor book she had used as a prop for her wool-gathering.
A woman Alice had not yet met entered the room, dressed in the clothing of a gentlewoman. “Do pardon me for interrupting, but Her Grace has sent for Lady Isabelle and Lady Rosalind.” She was taller than Alice, with dark brown ringlets of hair styled in curls, and flashing eyes that bespoke a good sense of humor.
Both girls immediately came to their feet. Alice checked the clock on the schoolroom mantel. “I imagine you will move on to your art lessons after you attend your mother, so I will see you both at two o’clock unless informed otherwise.”
“Yes, Miss Sharpe.” The girls spoke and curtsied in unison, then left the room with barely concealed glee. Given the time of day, Alice would guess their mother had invited them to take refreshment with her. It was likely the first time since the guests had arrived the week before that they would have the opportunity to spend time with the duchess alone.
The woman at the door watched them walk away, then looked back into the room. “We have not been introduced yet, Miss Sharpe. I am Emma Arlen, companion to Lady Josephine since her entrance into Society last year.” She came into the room, clasping her hands before her.
Alice relaxed. Here was someone in the household in a position similar to her own. Not a part of the family, but not truly part of the staff. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Miss Arlen. I believe this is the first time I have even caught a glimpse of you.”
“The castle is quite large.” Miss Arlen raised her eyebrows. “It is a wonder more of us do not get lost or marooned in the wrong wing, waiting for someone to rescue us.”
That elicited a laugh from Alice. “I have done my best not to stray from the main halls for just that purpose.”
“Wise of you. I understand you went to dinner last night. I was sorry to miss you there. We might have enjoyed a pleasant conversation afterward.”
“Oh, yes. I balanced the table when the vicar’s wife fell ill.” Alice immediately wondered why they had asked her, rather than the eldest daughter’s companion, who ranked higher than Alice in the hierarchy of staff.
Miss Arlen tilted her head to the side, as though she had heard Alice’s unspoken thought. “My family lives nearby, and it was my evening to be with them.” She gestured to Alice with a graceful wave of her hand. “I should like to com
e to know you better, Miss Sharpe, now that we have met properly. Perhaps the two of us might take tea together tomorrow? Lady Josephine is to receive instruction from her grandmother, and I need not be present.”
If Miss Arlen could be a friend, Alice’s time at the castle would certainly be more enjoyable. “That would be wonderful. I take tea with the children.”
Lord James huffed, making a dark mark on his map. “I dislike tea.”
“La, sir. No Englishman ought to speak so.” Miss Arlen ruffled his hair with familiarity. “What if I have cook send up your favorite biscuits? Do you think you would mind a tea party so much then?”
He squinted up at her. “Do you even know my favorite?”
Miss Arlen squinted back at the challenge. “Of course I do. The cinnamon biscuits made with molasses.”
The boy feigned a deep sigh. “I suppose you can come to tea, then.”
Miss Arlen and Alice both laughed. “Do not be too difficult for Miss Sharpe. Show her how charming you can be.” Miss Arlen looked up at Alice again, her eyes bright. “I have known the family all my life. If any of the children give you trouble, tell me. I can offer up wonderful ideas on bribes or torture, whichever you prefer.”
“Let us hope the torture is unnecessary.” Alice narrowed her eyes at the boy but did not hide her smile. “I look forward to our tea tomorrow. I have the feeling it will be most informative as well as enjoyable.”
“Very.” Miss Arlen curtsied. “Until tomorrow.” When she closed the door behind her, leaving only Lord James and Alice in the room, Alice came closer to the table to examine the boy’s map. He had made substantial progress since starting that morning.
It seemed a shame to keep him cooped up in the schoolroom when his sisters were away doing something else.
“Would you like to go play in the garden, my lord?” Alice asked. He immediately dropped his pencil and looked up at her, eyes hopeful. “I think you could use some fresh air before you go to your art lesson.”
“Yes, please.” He pushed away from the table. “Can we go right now?”
Alice laughed. “Let me get my parasol and a few other things, then we can enjoy the sunshine.”
“I’ll get my skipping rope and chalk.” The boy vanished out of the schoolroom, calling over his shoulder. “I’ll meet you in the hall, Miss Sharpe.”
It only took Alice a few moments to gather bonnet, gloves, parasol, and her sketchbook. After wandering about unprepared the day before, she had placed her things at the ready for another garden adventure. When she arrived in the hall, she saw her young charge with arms full of his own entertainments.
“Have you seen the big lily fountain yet, Miss Sharpe?” he asked, leading the way down the corridor to the main staircase. “It’s sunken into the ground, so it looks like a pond. There are even frogs living inside of it.”
Although trusting the young boy when so near amphibians gave her misgivings, Alice responded cheerfully. “I have not seen more than a few of the statues. Is the lily fountain a favorite of yours?”
He started rattling off all the reasons he enjoyed that corner of the gardens. Most of them seemed to be related to the general wildness of the plant life there. “It almost looks like no one ever gardens there, but I know they do. Because the grass is always short, and the pavers never grown over. But plants are everywhere.”
The fashion of allowing gardens to appear as wild as woodlands had not entirely gone out of style, and with someone like the countess promoting such a thing in her gardens, it was likely to be popular for some time yet.
Alice followed Lord James all the way outside, then down the terraced levels of the garden. A large willow tree was the first sign that they had entered a new section of cultivated land. They passed beneath it, the long delicate limbs parting as easily as curtains to allow them through. When they stepped out on the other side, Alice gasped.
The spot might well become her favorite, too.
The fountain was sunk beneath the ground, and the only way to recognize it was manmade rather than a pond was its near perfect circular shape. In the middle of the fountain was a gray stone statue of two swans, heads bent toward one another. In the water itself grew lily pads, tall rushes, and the brilliant purple-loosestrife. Alice had only encountered the tall, bright spikes of flowers once before, visiting a family member who lived near King’s Lyn.
There were long grasses scattered about the area, but a cobbled walking path going around the fountain was perfectly maintained. There was a bench on the other side of the fountain, and a tall oak shading half of the area bore a swing, too.
“This is beautiful,” she whispered, and immediately went to sit on the clover path near the flowers. Alice opened her sketchbook and turned over pages until she found one empty. She went to work immediately, capturing the gentle curve in the tall green stalk. A butterfly that looked rather like a leaf fluttered by, landing on one of the flowers.
Lord James busied himself with his chalk and the cobblestones. When she glanced over once, after he had been quiet for a time, she saw he was putting faces on individual stones. Some were quite hideous, others amusing. Alice hid her smile behind her sketch and went back to her own drawing.
Periodically, Alice checked the watch she wore. It had been a gift from the same great-aunt who found her the position of governess for the duke’s children. Though the watch might have looked lovely on a chain or chatelaine, it was far more practical to keep it on a ribbon Alice could slip between the pages of a book or into a reticule.
A quarter of an hour remained until they must leave for Lord James to attend his art lesson when the willow branches stirred, and Mr. Gardiner came into view. He wore a broad-brimmed hat more suitable to a fisherman than a gentleman, had a large basket tucked under one arm, along with a long-poled-net, and in his other arm he had books and a small box.
His gaze were so fixed on the sunken fountain that he did not even notice Alice and the little boy right away.
It was Lord James that called his attention to them with a gleeful shout. “Mr. Gardiner! Are you catching dragonflies again today?”
Mr. Gardiner started, then focused on the little boy. His gaze rose to sweep the surrounding area, and he spotted Alice on the bench. For no accountable reason, save residual embarrassment from the night before, Alice’s cheeks grew warm.
Too much sun, she told herself.
She rose from her place on the bench, gripping the sides of her sketchbook.
“Not dragonflies today.” He came further in, then bent over to carefully deposit his armload of supplies on the clover near the fountain. “I am releasing some specimens, then drawing the flowers.”
“Oh.” The boy’s interest immediately dissipated. He crouched lower to the ground and went back to his chalk drawing.
Mr. Gardiner directed his stare at Alice again. “Miss Sharpe, it is good to see you again.”
She curtsied. “Mr. Gardiner. I hope you’re well today.”
“Perfectly.” He approached her while wearing an amiable expression. “You left too quickly after dinner. I regretted your absence. I hope I did not drive you away.”
Had he really missed her? Even if not, he showed more thoughtfulness than most of her acquaintances by saying so. “Of course not, Mr. Gardiner. My duties as governess require an early start, which in turn requires an early evening retirement.” She did not have to say that governesses were generally unwanted creatures when it came to evening entertainments.
“That makes sense. I prefer to be up with the sun. Insects are far busier during the cooler hours. I imagine they dislike heat as much as the rest of us.” His eyes sparkled at her, alluding to their conversation from the day before. He gestured to her sketchbook, still all politeness. “Are you drawing the fountain scene? It is a bit of genius work, is it not? The dowager duchess designed this garden, I believe.”
Alice pulled her sketchbook a little closer. Would he think her foolish if he saw? Perhaps not, as he apparently spent hou
rs and hours observing insects. “Not the garden in its entirety. Merely the flowers.” There, they had both done enough to be considered polite by Society’s standards. He would withdraw to his own business.
Except, if anything, he appeared more interested than before. “Your interest in flowers extends beyond glancing at their pictures in publications?”
A laugh escaped her lips, though it was somewhat rueful. “I believe most ladies sketch flowers from time to time, Mr. Gardiner. Society rather demands that we are schooled in sketching things that are reminders of feminine beauty.”
“I suppose that is true, but I find most give up realistic depictions in favor of the more artistic.” He sighed and scratched behind his ear, his gaze going back to the pond. His next inquiry was merely polite, instead of curious, which gave her leave to relax. “Which flower has captured your interest?”
Stretching the book out to him, Alice attempted to sound unruffled. “You may look if you like.”
He came closer to accept the book and flipped open the soft red cover. Then he looked from the sketch of the purple-loosestrife to her, then the real thing, then back to her.
“It is anatomically correct.” One of his dark eyebrows arched upward at the same moment his head tilted to the side. Without asking, he turned the page and spotted the last sketch she had done before coming to Clairvoir. She had taken the time to color it in with pastels.
“Oh, that is only a flower I found near King’s Lyn. The cook there keeps a patch to make tea for my uncle’s gout.” Alice’s voice trailed away, and she felt her cheeks burn. He didn’t care about her uncle’s gout, her drawings, or her. Yet something made her squeeze out the last of her explanation. “She calls it a speedwell.”
“A Veronica chamaedrys,” Mr. Gardiner murmured, though he nodded as though it were not a correction. With one finger, he traced the main flower before he looked at the detail of the leaves she had drawn along the side. She had attempted to recreate the illustrated plates in one of the Royal Society journals. In the scientific magazines, they always represented the plants in full, with more detailed sketches of their individual parts along the border of the page. “The germander speedwell. Londoners nearly eradicated it at the end of the last century, for that gouty tea. It has other purported properties, too. Real or imagined, I do not know.”
Mr. Gardiner and the Governess: A Regency Romance (Clairvoir Castle Romances Book 1) Page 4