A Lady Becomes a Governess

by Diane Gaston

  She flushed. ‘I do not know what you mean.’

  ‘If I send someone to Ambleside, will they find an innkeeper who remembers a meeting or two between Sir Orin and a lady?’

  ‘It is too rainy to go to Ambleside.’ She glanced away and back. ‘Besides, perhaps the lady could be Miss Tilson.’

  He turned her head back. ‘Blonde hair. Blue eyes. Fine clothing?’

  She jerked away.

  He turned her back again. ‘Now tell me everything. Tell me where they are.’

  ‘You are making a fuss over nothing!’ she protested. ‘The children will be home tomorrow and your precious governess will be gone. All will be well.’

  ‘You are a fool, Lady Agnes. A man like Sir Orin is not going to release the children.’ He was likely a murderer already. What would be one or two more?

  ‘Tell me.’

  She sighed. ‘Oh, very well. But I assure you no one would come to harm. Your nieces will have had a lark and that woman would have another chance to accept a marriage proposal.’

  She explained the plan.

  When she was finished, Garret stepped back, his hands flexing into fists. ‘You remain here. If they are unharmed, you will leave. You will tell everyone you broke our engagement. You will tell them you simply changed your mind. If you say otherwise, this story will be told with you as the villain.’

  She glared at him.

  ‘If they are harmed in any way, I will call in the magistrate and you will pay for your petty treachery.’

  He turned on his heel and left the room.

  * * *

  Sir Orin allowed Rebecca to stay in the room with the children for over an hour. She played simple card games with them and spillikins, but all the time she was aware he watched them from the other room.

  The sky turned dark but the sounds of the wind, rain and waves reached Rebecca’s ears, pricking at her memory of another storm, another time of danger. She needed to stay in the present, even though the past tugged her backwards.

  ‘Claire, my love,’ Sir Orin called to her. ‘Come sit with me now.’

  ‘One moment, Sir Orin.’ Rebecca hugged both girls. ‘I’ll just be in the other room.’ There was a sofa in that room, right beneath the window. ‘Lie down on the sofa and try to sleep.’

  The girls climbed on the sofa and she covered them both with her shawl. She kissed them on their heads, blew out the lamp and walked out of the room, closing the door behind her.

  ‘I am here,’ she told Sir Orin.

  He patted a chair next to his. She obediently sat next to him.

  He turned his chair a little so that he looked directly at her. ‘You are so good with children, Claire. That is one of the first things I loved about you.’

  Her entire experience with children had taken place in these last few weeks.

  ‘You have not asked about the children. Do you not wonder how they fare?’

  She did not know them. ‘How could they fare? Their mother died and their father left them.’

  He scowled. ‘I must curb that biting tongue of yours.’

  Better she curb it. She had no wish to agitate him.

  She glanced around the room. There was just the one door and windows facing the front.

  ‘The children were inconsolable when you left, you know,’ he said.

  ‘Were they?’ She could see how they might be. She’d become instantly fond of Claire. ‘But do you not think they miss their mother more acutely?’

  He shrugged. ‘I suppose. She did dote on them.’ He waved a hand as if wiping that thought away. ‘I thought you would have more to say about the children. You must have cared for them deeply. They said you cried when you said goodbye.’ He wagged a finger at her. ‘You sneaked away without me knowing. I would not have let you go, you know.’

  Had Claire realised what this man was capable of? Was that why she left? She’d run away, obviously.

  He smiled. ‘Guess which one of the girls cried the most after you left?’

  Rebecca felt panicked inside. She struggled to remember the names she’d read in Debrett’s. ‘Margaret?’ she guessed.

  He frowned. ‘Margaret, you say?’

  She struggled to remember the others. ‘Was it Mary? Not Bridget, certainly.’

  He peered at her. ‘Why do you call them Margaret and Bridget?’

  She remembered correctly, she was certain. ‘Those are their names.’

  ‘We have always called them Meg and Biddy. You should know that.’ His eyes turned suspicious.

  Her muscles tensed.

  He leaned a bit closer. ‘Tell me the name of my estate.’

  Had it been in Debrett’s? She could not remember.

  His voice rose. ‘Tell me the name of the village. The county.’

  She was discovered.

  Rebecca straightened. ‘I cannot tell you those things.’

  His expression turned dark. ‘Why not?’

  She lifted her chin. ‘Because I am not Claire Tilson.’

  He made a sound like the low growl of a wild dog.

  She taunted him. ‘I look like her. A lot like her, but not exactly. I wonder that a man so besotted with Claire would not see the difference.’

  ‘You are deliberately toying with me,’ he said, his voice low.

  She went on. ‘You said so yourself. That I was not like myself. Of course I was not. I was never Claire.’

  ‘How can this be?’ His voice turned smaller.

  ‘By chance. We met on the packet boat. We instantly saw the resemblance and we formed a friendship over it. We even fooled my maid into thinking Claire was me.’

  He shook his head. ‘Who are you, then?’

  She gave him a regal look. ‘I am Lady Rebecca Pierce. I am of the aristocracy and I am well connected with men of power.’ Of course, all her connections were gone. Lady Rebecca was thought to be dead.

  ‘Why are you pretending to be Claire?’ he asked.

  She was not about to confide in him. ‘My reasons were private ones. You need not know them.’

  He swung away from her. ‘No. No. You are playing with me. You are Claire.’

  ‘I am not. I do not know where you live. I do not know your pet names for people. I know nothing of your life. I can only imagine what a nightmare it was to be married to you. Not so horrid to lose one’s life over.’ She should stop herself, but her words came out like a tidal wave.

  He stood and paced in front of her. ‘Where is Claire, then? Where is she? I demand to know.’

  She did not know how he would take this news. ‘Sir Orin, Claire is dead. Our packet boat was caught in a terrible storm. She drowned.’

  ‘No.’ He groaned. ‘No.’

  He paced away from her and twisted back. ‘This changes everything, you know.’

  She hoped so. ‘You do not really want me. I’m not Claire. There is no reason why you cannot simply walk away from us.’ She spoke soothingly, as she might to a spooked horse. ‘You could leave now. You would get wet, of course, but you would be long gone before anyone would know.’

  ‘No.’ He spoke more to himself than to Rebecca. ‘No. You’d tell. You’d tell.’

  Her hands shook. ‘I won’t tell. I—I do not want attention called to myself. All I wish is for you to be gone and for the children to return home safely. I must disappear, too, you know.’

  ‘No,’ he said again.

  There was a loud crack and a crash that put Rebecca back on the packet boat, when the mast had broken above their heads. The room grew dark and images of the angry sea overwhelmed her.

  ‘Blast.’ He walked to the window and peered out. ‘A tree. It looks like it hit the stable. He walked to a hook on the wall where his topcoat hung. He put it on and grabbed a lantern.

  He opened the door and turned to her. ‘Do
not try to escape. I will see you. There is only this one door and one path to the road and one road. Do not do anything foolish.’ He walked out the door.

  She immediately ran to the room where the children were. When she opened the door, they jumped back.

  ‘We were listening,’ Ellen said. ‘Are you really not Miss Tilson?’

  ‘Never mind that. We have to get out of here.’ She ran to the window.

  She pushed on the window and it finally opened wide enough for them to climb through. The distance to the ground was one storey high.

  She had to think fast. ‘Put your jackets on.’ She helped them. ‘I am going to climb out the window and hang over the side. Pamela, you climb down on me and drop to the ground. Then wait to help Ellen down.’

  Rebecca climbed out into the rain. The window sill was slippery, but she hung on.

  ‘Pamela! Come out now.’

  Pamela scrambled out and climbed down Rebecca, holding on to Rebecca’s dress as she lowered herself, finally letting go. Rebecca heard her hit the ground.

  ‘I’m ready for Ellen,’ she said in a loud whisper.

  Rebecca’s arms were aching. ‘Hurry, Ellen. You can do this.’

  Ellen climbed out like her sister and scurried down quickly like a little monkey.

  ‘I’ll catch you,’ Pamela said.

  Ellen let go and Rebecca heard her land.

  ‘Now move away.’ Rebecca’s fall would be farther than the girls. She said a prayer that she not injure herself.

  She landed in a bramble bush, the thorns piercing her skin and ripping her dress, but she was able to get to her feet. The rain pelted them like icy shards.

  ‘Where do we go?’ Pamela asked. She held her little sister’s hand.

  There was only one way to go.

  If they tried to run for the road, Sir Orin would see them. Even if they managed to slip past him, he’d likely find them eventually. They needed an escape route he could not follow.

  ‘We’re going to the lake,’ Rebecca said. ‘There is a boat there. Hold on to me and to each other.’

  It was so dark, Rebecca could only see inches in front of her. She found the path to the lake by trial and error and by listening to the slapping of the waves against the shore. They slipped and slid down the path, but they reached the jetty. There was enough light to see white caps on the lake and the bobbing of the rowing boat.

  Rebecca pulled on the rope that tethered the boat to the post, bringing it close enough to the jetty to grab hold of it. As she reached for it, it dipped away and the memory of being dropped into the rowing boat from the sinking ship made her freeze. She again felt herself seated next to the mother huddled with her two children.

  She shook her head.

  These two children were her responsibility now. She would not allow them to die like the others.

  She caught the boat and held it against the stone jetty. ‘Climb in.’

  The girls did not hesitate, but they did not know what rough water could do. They climbed in because they trusted her. She climbed in after them and freed the boat from its moorings. She pushed hard against the jetty and the boat floated on to the lake.

  The water was rough and the rocking of the boat jabbed Rebecca with memories, but she stayed focused on whatever she must do next. The boat was filled with rain water and they busied themselves bailing out the water with jugs they found in the boat. There were oars, but Rebecca was too weary to try to use them. The wind and the water floated them further and further from shore. They were safe. From Sir Orin, at least.

  ‘Let’s huddle together to keep warm,’ she said to the girls, wrapping them in an embrace, holding them as close to her body as she could.

  ‘Are we safe?’ asked Pamela.

  ‘Yes,’ she assured her. ‘He cannot reach us on the water.’

  ‘He was a bad man, wasn’t he?’ Pamela said.

  ‘Yes,’ Rebecca agreed. ‘A very bad and dangerous man.’

  ‘But Lady Agnes sent us off with him,’ Ellen said. ‘She said we were going to surprise you.’

  ‘She lied to us.’ Pamela huddled closer.

  Ellen whimpered.

  They clung to each other and Rebecca tried not to think about the rocking of the boat or of how cold it was or of how and when and where they would reach the shore. If they would reach the shore.

  Finally Ellen quieted and Rebecca hoped she’d fallen asleep, but her little voice popped up. ‘What are we to call you, Miss Tilson?’

  She kissed the child’s head. ‘Call me Rebecca.’

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Garret made his way up the road along Lake Windermere from Far Sawrey, looking for the cottage Sir Orin had rented. The rain had stopped at last, but Ben and two of the stablemen who started out with him had been slowed by the mud and rain. Skiddaw, seasoned by years of army life, plodded on and Garret soon was ahead of the others.

  There was something about danger that drove away the non-essential clutter of life, leaving a stark clarity of what was important. In the time-consuming effort it took to get this far, Garret became very clear about one thing. Lady Rebecca, Pamela and Ellen were the most important people in his life. He would die to protect them. He did not care what anyone in society or Parliament or even on the throne thought of him. He wanted to share his life with Lady Rebecca and to rear his nieces as if they were his own children.

  He’d been this way in battle. Able to see what he and his soldiers must do to win. And survive. His men had esteemed him and, because he saw himself reflected in their eyes, he’d been secure in believing he was a competent officer.

  Now he realised from those first days, he’d seen admiration reflected in Lady Rebecca’s eyes. He realised her steadfast support of him helped give him confidence to manage the estate’s problems his way. She’d enabled him to put himself back in touch with the people who’d helped forge him as a boy. His workers were his soldiers now and he knew he could bring them through any adversity.

  Lady Rebecca had seen him clearly when he’d been unable to see himself. He no longer cared that she’d deceived him as to her name. He, too, had seen her true self clearly.

  And now, when he feared losing her, he knew he loved her.

  It had taken Garret and his men a long time to reach this road. Lady Agnes did not know all the details, like which cottage Orin had rented. It took time to discover that in Far Sawrey. The darkness thwarted Garret. He feared the cottage would be so obscured by the thick trees and shrubs that he could pass the cottage by.

  Up ahead, though, he thought he saw a light through the trees. A lantern? He urged Skiddaw forward. Yes. There was definitely a light.

  Garret came upon a path leading down towards the lake. He dismounted, leaving Skiddaw there, and followed the path. He passed a village cart in a clearing—a villager had seen a man in a village cart. He walked farther and could dimly see the outline of a cottage. Light shone through the windows, but faintly, as if only a candle burned inside. A brighter light was visible in the outbuilding, its roof smashed by a fallen tree. Garret stealthily moved towards it. He peered through a gap in the wall and saw a man trying to free a horse blocked in by rocks and timber. He could not see if it was Sir Orin, but he made his way to the cottage and went inside.

  ‘Lady Rebecca?’ he called quietly. ‘Pamela? Ellen?’

  There was no answer, but he found two teacups and saucers. More than one person had been there.

  He entered a second room and found more dishes, a deck of cards and a game of spillikins. On the sofa was the shawl he had purchased for her in Moelfre.

  She had been here! The children, too, unless Sir Orin had a fondness for spillikins.

  Where were they now? Was he too late?

  Garret strode out of the cottage and back to the outbuilding.

  He stood in the doorway. ‘Sir
Orin!’

  The man turned and froze for a moment. The light from the lantern shone on his face. It was indeed Sir Orin.

  Sir Orin charged at Garret, who deftly stepped aside and caught him by the arm, sending him sprawling. Sir Orin picked up a piece of splintered wood and swung it at Garret, who ducked and seized him from behind.

  ‘Where are they?’ Garret snarled.

  ‘I do not know what you are talking about.’ Sir Orin struggled to free himself.

  ‘Do not lie to me. I found her shawl in the cottage.’

  Sir Orin froze. ‘They are gone?’

  ‘Where are they?’ Garret roared.

  ‘I rid myself of them!’ Sir Orin struggled again, twisting and turning until both men were outside the building.

  Garret’s foot slipped in the mud, loosening his hold enough for Sir Orin to break free. They scuffled in the mud, but Sir Orin managed to scramble away and run into the trees, quickly disappearing from view.

  Garret’s heart pounded in fear. Which was true? Sir Orin’s surprise they were gone? Or saying he got rid of them?

  He picked up the lantern and returned to the cottage. He searched the first room, but there was nowhere they could be hidden. He looked in the second room where he’d found her shawl.

  It looked as if they’d just stepped away, but where?

  The window was open. Garret walked over to it and leaned out, holding the lantern for light. Could they have climbed out the window? He carried the lantern outside and examined the ground underneath the back window. He found footprints in the mud that led to a jetty.

  He walked to the end of it and lifted the lantern high.

  The water was choppy, but the wind was blowing the storm clouds away. The moon suddenly shone down on the lake. Garret spied a rowing boat on the water and it looked like someone was in the boat.

  Had she escaped with them in a boat? How much courage had that taken?

  His heart skittered. ‘Rebecca!’ he called. ‘Rebecca!’

  He saw the figure divide into three. There were three of them!

  ‘Rebecca!’ he called again. ‘It is Garret Brookmore!’

  ‘Garret!’ she called back. Using his given name warmed him.