by Diane Gaston
Agnes’s brows rose. ‘Odd one? How so.’
The housekeeper leaned forward. ‘When she arrived with Lord Brookmore, she rode on horseback with him. Most unseemly!’
‘Oh, I agree. Most unseemly. Can you imagine?’ Agnes readily agreed.
The housekeeper went on. ‘She had only a very small bag with her. Almost no clothing. No personal items at all. The children’s maid said she’d been in a shipwreck, which would explain it, but...’ She trailed off, clearly sceptical.
‘Do go on,’ Agnes encouraged.
Mrs Dodd took a sip of chocolate. ‘She takes the children outdoors most of the day. They hardly ever are inside the schoolroom. Not like the dear governess who came before.’
‘What can they be doing out of doors all day?’ Agnes asked.
‘Well.’ She took another sip. ‘One day she almost got Miss Ellen drowned. His lordship had to rescue Miss Ellen and Miss Tilson.’
‘You do not say!’ Agnes put on a shocked expression. ‘How did such a person become a governess?’
The housekeeper seemed eager to impart information. ‘She came with an excellent reference from the lady of the house whose children she cared for. And she was registered with a reputable agency, but there is something havey-cavey about her.’
Agnes suspected as much!
‘I cannot abide this!’ Agnes said. ‘Those poor dear children.’ She put a hand to her chest. ‘I must make certain that dear Brookmore was not deceived. Perhaps I could write to the agency. Or to her previous employer. Only I would like to do this without Brookmore knowing.’ She smiled conspiratorially. ‘I do not wish to worry him, of course.’
‘I have the letters from the agency and the reference,’ Mrs Dodd said. ‘I will show them to you so you have the proper address.’
Agnes stood. ‘Thank you. You may spare these children from irreparable harm.’
Mrs Dodd also rose. ‘I will bring the letters to you right away.’
After the housekeeper left, Agnes paced the room. Her instincts were never wrong. She was certain there was something to discover about this governess that would sour Lord Brookmore on the young woman.
Yes. Mrs Dodd confirmed Agnes’s suspicions. The governess was the problem and Agnes excelled at eliminating problems.
Chapter Thirteen
Garret managed to endure the day in a tolerable fashion. Breakfast with the children and Miss Tilson that morning had been difficult, but he and Miss Tilson had already become practised in remaining remote while still engaging the children. Afterwards he invited Lady Agnes and her aunt on a tour of the house and garden, which served only to remind him of when he’d done the same for Miss Tilson and the children. He’d next seen Lady Agnes and her aunt at dinner. By then he’d endeavoured to be more civil than the previous night. Lady Agnes’s aunt excused herself after dinner and Garret spent the rest of the evening alone with his fiancée.
He’d had one piece of happy news that day. In an effort to please the children, as well as Miss Tilson, he’d asked his stable master to scour the countryside for suitable ponies to purchase for Pamela and Ellen. The man found two perfect fell ponies just the right size and temperament for the girls. They’d arrived that afternoon and Garret planned to surprise the girls the next day.
In an attempt to be convivial, he’d spoken of it to Lady Agnes.
‘Ponies?’ Her brows rose. ‘Are not they a bit young for riding?’
‘I was younger than Pamela when I started,’ he said. ‘And she is pining to learn.’
‘But you are a man,’ she exclaimed. ‘Riding is a necessity for a man.’
Necessity or not, no one could have kept him off a horse in those days. Pamela had that same passion for horses—as did Miss Tilson.
‘These are gentle animals,’ he said. ‘The girls will be safe.’
‘I was not thinking of safety, although that is important, of course,’ she countered. ‘There is a risk of indulging a child’s every whim, especially little girls. One does not wish them to grow up horse-mad, does one? They will have to make a good match some day and that means embracing feminine pursuits.’
Garret frowned. ‘I intend to indulge whatever whims give my nieces pleasure. They have lost their mother and father and the governess they’d known since birth. They deserve to be indulged. I will do what makes them happy.’
Her expression turned sympathetic. ‘Of course you are right, my dearest. The poor darlings. How are they getting along?’
He nodded. ‘They are doing well now.’ Because of Miss Tilson.
* * *
The next morning at breakfast Garret told Pamela and Ellen—and Miss Tilson—that he had a surprise for them in the stables. He told them to meet him at the stables at ten o’clock. He was rushing to get there before them when he encountered Lady Agnes on the stairs.
‘Brookmore!’ She smiled. ‘How are you this morning? How was your little breakfast with the children?’
‘Pleasant, as always,’ he responded. Not counting the ache he felt whenever he was with Miss Tilson.
She gave an amused look. ‘I was about to take a turn in the garden. Will you join me?’
He shook his head. ‘I cannot. I am on my way to the stables. The children are to meet me there soon, but I want to make it there before them. I am surprising them with the ponies.’
‘The ponies.’ Her face fell, although she quickly smiled. ‘How very sweet of you to make it a surprise.’
He hesitated, sensing her disappointment and feeling guilty for having an excuse to avoid her company. ‘You may come, too, if you wish.’
‘To the stables?’ She wrinkled her nose, but again put on a smile. ‘I would love to, but I must change my shoes, I fear.’
She lifted her skirts to show she wore dainty slippers that would be ruined in any bit of mud or muck. The glimpse of her ankle should have been alluring, but Garret was unmoved.
‘I must hurry there now,’ he said. ‘Come as soon as you are ready. Any footman can show you the way.’
Her smile lit her beautiful features. ‘I will hurry, as well.’
His guilt rose again for feeling his surprise gift to the children would be a bit spoiled if she came.
* * *
Rebecca and the girls hurried down the back stairs, the fastest way to leave the house and reach the stables.
‘What is the surprise, Miss Tilson?’ Ellen asked for the hundredth time.
‘I still do not know, Ellen,’ Rebecca replied, laughing.
Pamela piped up, ‘Stop asking!’ But her eyes, too, were filled with excitement.
Rebecca thought she knew the surprise, though, and she, too, could hardly wait to see if she was correct.
When they reached the door, Lady Agnes was there, about to leave with a footman.
‘Good morning, children,’ she chirped.
‘Good morning, Lady Agnes,’ they responded, both their voices dampened.
‘May I walk with you?’ she asked. ‘I believe you are off to the stables for the big surprise.’
She knew of it?
‘Are you going, too?’ Ellen’s enthusiasm quieted somewhat.
‘Yes,’ Lady Agnes replied. ‘But I do not know the way to the stables.’
Rebecca’s insides clenched. ‘You may walk with us.’
What right would she have had to refuse, even though the lady had not acknowledged her, only the children?
Lady Agnes turned to the footman. ‘Thank you so much, Mason, but I will not need you now.’
The footman looked pleased that she’d addressed him. ‘M’lady.’ He bowed and held the door for them.
Pamela and Ellen ran ahead, leaving Lady Agnes to walk with Rebecca.
Lady Agnes wrapped her shawl around her. ‘It is cold for a summer day, is it not, Miss Tilson?’
‘Yes, my lady.’ Rebecca kept repeating to herself that her status was now lower than this earl’s daughter.
‘The children are quite excited, are they not? Running like that.’
There it was again, Rebecca noticed. That sweet tone that held a bite.
‘Indeed,’ she responded.
‘Well they might be,’ Lady Agnes said with a little laugh.
‘You know the surprise?’ Rebecca could not help feeling hurt that Lord Brookmore had apparently confided in her.
‘Yes, of course.’ Lady Agnes looked pleased. ‘But I will not spoil it for you.’
Rebecca felt a pang of jealousy, but what right had she to feel such an emotion? They were not rivals. He would share confidences with this lady that he would never do with her.
Lord Brookmore stood outside the stables and Rebecca’s heart lurched when he scooped up Ellen into one arm and put the other around Pamela’s shoulder.
‘We must wait for Miss Tilson,’ she heard him say.
He glanced her way and his smile faltered for a moment when he saw her walking with Lady Agnes.
When they came closer, he acknowledged his fiancée. ‘Lady Agnes.’
Her smile turned more dazzling. ‘See? I did not need an escort after all.’
‘I do see.’ His gaze slipped to Rebecca for an instant, before he turned again to the children. ‘Well, shall we see the surprise?’
‘Yes! Yes!’ cried Ellen.
He carried Ellen, but held Pamela’s hand as he entered the stables. Lady Agnes followed. Rebecca waited to be last.
The stables were dark compared to the sunny day outside and it took a moment for her eyes to adjust. There, held by two of the grooms, were two ponies, one light, one dark, one larger than the other, but the perfect sizes for Pamela and Ellen.
‘Oh!’ exclaimed Pamela, her tone awed. ‘Oh.’
Lord Brookmore put Ellen down. ‘The larger one is yours, Pamela. Go say hello.’
Rebecca could tell Pamela wished to run to the pony, but she forced herself to approach slowly.
She turned back to Lord Brookmore. ‘Mine, Uncle Garret?’
‘Yours,’ he repeated, his voice soft.
Pamela stroked the pony the way Rebecca and Lord Brookmore had taught her. The little horse nuzzled her and Pamela threw her arms around its neck.
‘What is her name?’ she asked.
‘Biscuit,’ the groom told her.
The pony was a dappled grey, a pretty creature any little girl would fall in love with. Already the horse was delighting in Pamela’s affection.
‘Biscuit is a perfect name!’ Pamela placed her cheek against the horse’s neck.
Tears stung Rebecca’s eyes. She exchanged a glance with Lord Brookmore and saw he understood. Pamela was truly happy.
Ellen, still a bit wary of horses, held back. ‘The other one is mine?’
‘Yes, yours,’ Lord Brookmore assured her. ‘Her name is Pixie.’
Pixie was a bay mare, a rich reddish brown with a black mane.
‘Will she bite?’ Ellen asked.
He squatted down to her level. ‘She won’t bite. She likes little girls. She’ll like to be petted the way Miss Tilson and I showed you.’ He gave her a gentle push. ‘Go to her.’
Ellen crept forward. ‘Hello, Pixie,’ she said in a slightly anxious voice.
The pony did not wait, but stepped towards her, already nudging her with her muzzle. Ellen drew back, but soon laughed and patted the pony’s neck.
Lord Brookmore again shared a glance with Rebecca. His tenderness to the girls nearly undid her. She gulped to keep from becoming a complete watering pot.
‘May I ride, Uncle Garret?’ Pamela asked. Rebecca thought she would leap on the pony at any moment.
‘You will have your first lesson right now, if you like,’ he responded.
‘Yes!’ cried Pamela.
A few moments later both girls were on the ponies’ backs, being led around the paddock. Lord Brookmore walked beside Ellen, reassuring her all the way. Pamela spent the time either talking to her Biscuit or exclaiming that she could not wait to ride on her own.
Rebecca watched the scene with her heart full of happiness for the girls.
Lady Agnes sidled up to her. ‘They look so sweet, do they not?’
‘Yes, indeed,’ Rebecca responded, not inclined to do anything to further the conversation.
‘I must confess,’ Lady Agnes went on. ‘I told Brookmore I was concerned about Pamela and Ellen riding at such an early age.’
Early? Pamela and Ellen were latecomers. ‘Where I come from children begin riding as soon as they can walk.’
‘And where is that, Miss Tilson?’ Lady Agnes asked sweetly.
Rebecca had said too much, but she’d cause more suspicion if she did not answer. ‘Ireland.’
Lady Agnes smiled as if amused. ‘Oh. Ireland.’
Rebecca caught the implied aspersion.
‘I do worry about Pamela.’ Lady Agnes sighed.
‘Why?’ Rebecca asked.
‘I suspect she is the driving force behind acquiring these ponies.’ Lady Agnes shook her head in disapproval. ‘I believe it is dangerous to let children dictate what they must have and what they must do.’
Rebecca was appalled. It was such a profound misunderstanding of how reticent Pamela had been to ask for anything.
‘I do not believe it is dangerous for young girls to tell us what they need,’ Rebecca said, trying to keep her voice calm. ‘I believe girls need to learn to think for themselves and speak their minds. They should feel free to pursue what interests them, to do what makes them happy.’
She’d hate to think of Pamela or Ellen forced into thinking they must please others and do what others say. Or marry whomever they were told to marry.
‘Oh, dear,’ said Lady Agnes in a humorous tone. ‘Have you been reading Wollstonecraft?’
Rebecca had, indeed, read A Vindication of the Rights of Woman when she’d attended her very progressive school, but she declined to respond to Lady Agnes.
She watched Lord Brookmore walk around the paddock with Ellen and wished that his fiancée was someone she could like. Lady Agnes definitely was not.
* * *
The next three weeks gave Garret no pleasure at all, at least not in the company of Lady Agnes. If only she would see how wrong their marriage would be and cry off, there would be no harm to her reputation. Surely her time at Brookmore House showed her how ill-suited they were.
She detested common labour, but he was happiest when fully immersed in the farm and the quarry. He loved to be in the thick of things, with the people he counted upon and who counted upon him. It was close to riding into battle, but without the risk. She disliked horses, but he, like Miss Tilson, felt the need to ride every day. He needed the release of a fine gallop across the fields.
Garret still enjoyed sharing breakfast with his nieces, who seemed happier and more relaxed as his days became unhappier and more tense. Breakfast gave him his only opportunity to see how Miss Tilson was faring. She’d been resolute in keeping her distance from him. He thought she looked more strained.
Like him.
Garret spent part of his day teaching his nieces to ride, a task in which Miss Tilson enthusiastically participated and about which Lady Agnes complained.
Her complaints were couched in words of concern, of course. Might the children be harmed by being out so much in the sun? Would they be falling behind on their lessons? Would it be prudent to engage a piano teacher or a dancing master as well for some balance?
He realised Lady Agnes must be going mad from boredom. There was very little for her to do but write letters, do needlework, play the pianoforte and read ladies’ magazines he brought her from Grasmere, since she disliked the books in his library.
How m
any letters could she write, though? How much needlework could she finish? How did her poor aunt stand it, as well? The older lady seemed to nap most of the day, probably from lack of anything more interesting to do.
In this past week, Lady Agnes had begun to press him to make her acquainted with other good families in the area, meaning other land owners with titles, if possible. Garret had neglected to call upon his neighbours. He’d always meant to, but he wanted to see to the estate’s needs first.
At Lady Agnes’s request he sent a servant to Ambleside every day for the mail. She received more letters than everyone else in the household combined and he franked all the letters she sent in return. He did not care enough to notice to whom they were addressed.
This afternoon he carried some ledgers into the house, planning to go over some figures he and Ben had discussed. Agnes encountered him in the drawing room.
‘Brookmore! How lovely to see you,’ she chirped. ‘I was about to take a turn in the garden. Would you join me?’
To deny such a little request seemed churlish. ‘Certainly.’ He put the ledgers in a desk drawer. ‘Which gardens?’
Brookmore House had, of course, more than one garden. He’d toured them all with her when she first arrived. As he had toured with Miss Tilson and the children.
Lady Agnes took his arm. ‘The topiary. It is so quaint.’
Quaint was a common word she used when talking about the house and its gardens.
Garret walked with her out the front entrance and through the gate to the topiary. This day she did not remark at all about the whimsical shrubbery. She talked of the unseasonably cool weather and lamented that Garret had been working too hard which could not possibly be good for him.
Suddenly a screech came from behind the shrubbery and two laughing little girls ran straight for them.
Lady Agnes cried out in surprise.
‘Uncle Garret! Uncle Garret!’ Ellen ran up to him. ‘We are pretending we are afraid of a snake, but we aren’t really, because the snake is a garden snake and only does good by eating bad things.’ She paused. ‘At least that is what Phibbs tells us.’
‘You gave me such a fright!’ Lady Agnes fanned herself.