Falling for the Governess: A Historical Regency Romance Book

by Abby Ayles

  “You see,” Lady Abigail started excitedly to tell her story. “I convinced Nursie to tell me all about the festival. Of course, it wasn’t that hard, you know how she loves to spin stories.”

  Lady Abigail turned to Lady Lydia. “Nursie was my nanny, Mrs. Murray. She is also currently Jackie’s caretaker.”

  Lady Lydia didn’t seem to like to have special explanation given to her. It made her look like an interloper on a close friendship of three.

  “After she told me,” Lady Abigail continued, “I just had to go and see it for myself. In all honesty, I thought she might have fibbed a bit to scare me. She spoke of little people and ghosts that walk the earth for one night a year. She said that small children were made to dress as such, for fear the little people might snatch them up otherwise.”

  “She told me little folk could tell who the naughty children were from the good ones and liked to take them home and turn them into little folk themselves. To be on the safe side, all parents make their kids wear woodland clothes and dirty up their faces. That way, if they were naughty, the little people would think they were already one of them.”

  “I imagine all children loved the opportunity to run around dirty for a day,” Lord Bellfourd chimed in.

  “To be sure. But, you see, I thought she was fibbing just to keep me on my best behavior. You see,” Lady Abigail directed to Isabella, “this was just after the jam on the piano keys incident.”

  Isabella covered her mouth to stifle a giggle. She couldn’t help but picture Mrs. Murray, irritated by the sticky clean up, weaving a scary, animated tale to put her ward into place.

  “So, how did you make your escape?” Lord Bellfourd asked, enthralled by the tale.

  “Well, I was twelve at the time and you had just left for the Navy,” Lady Abigail continued. “I made my escape in my white nightgown, dressing gown, and slippers. I removed the rags from my hair but did not know how to put it up myself, so it lay limply all around me. My face I scrubbed with the ash from the fireplace, just for good measure. I scarcely know how I was able to sneak out of the house unnoticed, except for the fact that most of the staff must have already left for the festivities themselves.”

  “Oh, Lady Abigail,” Lady Lydia said in astonishment. "I do hope you weren’t seen. I can’t imagine what being found in a dressing gown in the middle of a pagan ritual would do to a lady’s reputation.”

  “Actually, I was found out,” Lady Abigail said with an edge of spit.

  Both ladies gasped, though for very different reasons.

  “I ran all the way through the dark to just outside of town. I could see the glow of the bonfire at the back edge of a tenant field. As I got closer, I found myself walking with many others, making their way to the same place. It didn’t seem to me that any recognized me for who I was, or so I thought in my childish mind.”

  “How could they not,” Lord Bellfourd stated, “with your fine dressing gown, and deep red hair?”

  “Of course, now I can see that is true. But at the time, in my youthful confidence, I thought myself a very good trickster with my smudged face.”

  “Oh, it was so magnificent,” Lady Abigail continued, caught up in her own memory. “There were long tables decorated with cornucopias and delicious treats. There was a great big fire where children danced and played, and even a small group of musicians.”

  “Standing in a straight line, just to the side of the fire, was a row of young maidens all dressed in white with crowns of harvest flowers. Upon their arrival, the merriment stopped, the kids stood back, and the women themselves encircled the fire. The musicians played a soft tune that grew in power. The ladies all danced, an ancient movement of flowing white fabric, along with the song. Oh, it was simply magical,” Lady Abigail said with a romantic sigh.

  Lady Lydia just sat there, too shocked by the telling to speak. From time to time, she turned her brown eyes to Lord Bellfourd, certain he too must be disgusted by this tale.

  “When the dance was done, I found Nursie at my side, hands folded in front of her. I suspected, for a long time after that, that she might be a fairy herself for how quietly she always seemed to appear.”

  “All she said was, ‘come along home now, lass,’ and we both walked the road back home. She washed my face with cold water and tucked me back into my bed. We never spoke of that night after that,” Lady Abigail ended with a sheen of happy childhood memory to her soft blue eyes.

  “What an adventurous childhood you must have had,” Lady Lydia said, doing her best to find a way to compliment a tale she deeply disproved of.

  The small party was just beginning to pull onto the long drive that lead up to Wintercrest Manor.

  “Do you have fabric in that larger basket to make your own Samhain dress?” Lord Bellfourd said teasingly as he turned to inspect the basket sitting by Samuel again.

  “Yes, I dare say that you would be quite in your place at such an event,” Lady Lydia said coolly.

  “No,” Isabella said, doing her best to ignore Lady Lydia’s remarks. “I am hoping, however, to make one for Betsy. She has been so kind to me these past months. Though I am not sure I am up to the task.”

  “I am certain you will be,” Lady Abigail praised. “The little dress you made for Jackie’s doll was pretty enough to be worn by the queen herself.”

  “Well, if that is the case, I shall practice my manners for when Her Royal Highness Betsy is given her new gown,” Lord Bellfourd teased again, letting his happy conscience shine down on Isabella.

  They pulled up to the house and Lord Bellfourd exited and turned to help each lady down.

  “I thank you for the ride,” Isabella said, bidding the party goodbye.

  Lord Bellfourd reached up and grabbed the basket to hand back to its owner.

  “I dare say- are there also some treacle tarts I see poking out? You must have a sweet tooth then?” Lord Bellfourd added, handing back the basket.

  “They, and some lemon drops, are treats for Mrs. Murray and Jackie.”

  “I have always been under the impression that too many sweets for children breed bad behavior,” Lady Lydia said, intruding on the conversation.

  “Well, if that is the case,” Lord Bellfourd said, turning back to Lady Lydia, who promptly placed her hand in the uninviting arm of the marquess, “then Jackie is the most rotten child of all, since I often sneak her bonbons and peppermint sticks.”

  He tipped his beaver fur hat, that matched the dark brown of his morning coat perfectly, before bidding Isabella goodbye.

  “Please do give her an extra lemon drop for me,” he added with a wink in farewell.

  Lady Abigail came to stand by Isabella. “If you don’t mind terribly, perhaps I could join you and possibly help as you begin to make your new gown?”

  It was clear that she had all she could stand of Lady Lydia for the day.

  “Thank you; I would be grateful for the company.”

  The two ladies set off together for the side service entrance arm in arm, while Lord Bellfourd lead Lady Lydia to tea in the drawing room through the main door.

  “Is it wise to let your sister spend so much time in the company of Miss Watts?” Lady Lydia asked of Lord Bellfourd as they entered the manor.

  “She is not just the governess; she has also been a great friend to Abigail these past few months when she was unable to go to town for the season.”

  “Yes, but she is a servant. How can you expect your sister to find a proper match if she is lowering herself to such standard?”

  “She may be an employee of this manor,” Lord Bellfourd said with stern finality, “but she is also a good friend to all of the household, and I would hope you remember that in future.”

  Though Lady Lydia did not, in any way, like the answer that Lord Bellfourd returned to her, she did enjoy the idea of a future at Wintercrest Manor.

  Chapter 25

  Dear Miss Isabella Watts,

  I am hoping that my letter finds you in good health. I am writin
g to inform you that your first quarter of income was delivered to me, per the agreement made with Mr. Smith. I will be sending it to you post haste along with this letter.

  I hope that you have settled in well in your new position as governess of Wintercrest Manor.

  I do have one other matter that I would like to bring to your attention. Since your departure and the subsequent liquidation of your father’s assets, Mr. Smith has been most adamant in learning your whereabouts.

  Because of his course nature, he has been to see me at least six times since your departure about this matter. I have chosen to keep your location from him. Though he may be a gentleman, I fear he may not have gentlemanly thoughts in mind on account of your situation.

  Though he was not happy that I would not divulge your employment to him, I thought he had decided to finally give up on this venture and move on with his life.

  I was sadly mistaken. I found, just last Tuesday, an advertisement in The Morning Chronical for information pertaining to your location, which even alluded that you are wanted in questioning of a criminal nature.

  I have enclosed a clipping of said article with this letter. Though I still don’t think it is wise to make known your location to Mr. Smith, I fear something must be done to appease the man. I fear he will otherwise never stop his pursuit of you, Miss Watts.

  I wait for your reply as to what you would like me to do in such matters.

  Your humble servant,

  Mr. Jenkins

  Isabella looked into the large envelope the letter had arrived in. Inside was a small sum of money, which she promptly hid inside a false book on her bookshelf, and the newspaper clipping.

  Attention!

  One Miss Isabella Watts is wanted in the question of items missing from the possession of a Mr. Smith of J. Watts Shipping & Trade Co. If any information can be given on the above-stated female’s location, please contact Mr. Smith at his place of business for a small compensation.

  Isabella gripped her necklace in horror. He had gone so far as to call her an outright thief in The Morning Chronical. All of this because she refused to give up her very own locket to his greedy paws.

  Her heart beat fast and her palms were clammy at the thought. Would anyone in the area receive The Morning Chronicle? It was a London paper, widely distributed in town, but she wasn’t sure that its popularity would travel so far up north.

  The only person who she thought might have such a thing delivered was the duke himself, probably the last person in the world Isabella would want to read such a thing.

  She grew even more nervous as she thought back to all the breakfasts she shared with the family. Often, the post and various newspapers would be delivered to Lord Bellfourd at this time for him to look over.

  She hastily looked back at the date of the letter. The papers Lord Bellfourd received would be a few days behind what was posted in London due to travel. Perhaps if she had time, she could intercept the offending paper before it reached his hands.

  It had been only three days since the letter was posted to her. More than likely, she would have to act quickly if she was going to prevent anyone in the house from coming upon the article.

  She hoped that if she sent Mr. Smith the charm with no postscript, he would leave the whole matter be. She cherished her locket dearly, but keeping it was not worth giving up her new home.

  Sadly, she knew in her heart, it was not the locket that Mr. Smith truly wanted but her demise. No matter what she did to appease him, he would always find another way to come at her and disgrace her further.

  She sank down onto her bed, full of hopelessness. She thought back to the words she heard the marquess had spoken to Lady Lydia just that afternoon.

  He had said she was a friend to all the household. Would he consider her as such if he knew the devious thing she had done before arriving?

  Collapsing entirely onto her mattress, she let her tears run down her cheeks. Despite the knowledge that giving Mr. Smith the locket wouldn’t do much to help her situation, she knew she must do it anyway. Though she knew he would do everything in his power to disgrace and belittle her at every turn, she would not let her attachment to a charm open the way for Mr. Smith to come into her life yet again.

  Two days later, when Isabella was able to find some free time, she walked back the way to town, this time with a much more sullen countenance and a noticeable weight removed from around her neck, to deliver a parcel to the postmaster.

  She also sent a letter to Mr. Jenkins, thanking him for his continued friendship as well as the information pertaining to Mr. Smith. She informed him that she had done everything in her power to recompense the wrong Mr. Smith believed she had caused him. Isabella prayed that this would finally be the end of the matter.

  Unfortunately, she was sadly mistaken when she returned home that evening. One of the lady’s maids was sent to her room with a note from Lady Lydia. It stated that Lady Lydia requested her presence for a short private conversation and Isabella was to meet her in the garden at her earliest convenience.

  With fall starting to creep in, Isabella grabbed her warmest shawl and made her way out again at once to see what Lady Lydia could want.

  Ironically, Isabella found Lady Lydia sitting on Isabella’s favorite stone bench with a book in hand. As dusk was beginning to fall, she couldn’t imagine that Lady Lydia was actually reading by the quickly dimming light.

  “Oh, good. I was worried you weren’t going to get my letter. Come and have a seat by me, dear,” she said closing her book and patting the cold stone next to her.

  Lady Lydia was being awfully kind and even bordered on cheerfulness. It was not a good start, in Isabella’s mind.

  “Isn’t it a funny thing that us two girls from London’s finest ladies’ school end up here together so far north?”

  “I suppose so,” Isabella said, coolly trying to measure where the conversation was going.

  “Clearly, you must know what my mother and I have intended for this visit. In fact, I might be so bold to say Her Grace, herself, wishes it to be so,” Lady Lydia said with a proud air.

  “So, it must be quite obvious that I have a concern for the wellbeing of Wintercrest, including who Lord Bellfourd and Lady Abigail associate themselves with.”

  Isabella swallowed hard. She still could not determine what game Lady Lydia was playing.

  “Imagine my surprise, when, just this morning, I noticed this on the back of The Morning Chronicle which Lord Bellfourd had in his hand.”

  She opened the book to her page, and Isabella saw that she had not been reading the literature but rather a copy of Mr. Smith’s inquiry.

  “I wanted to bring it to Lady Wintercrest attention immediately, fearing that a criminal might have infiltrated their household. In the end, however, I thought I might lay the case before you to see if some sort of recompense could be made.”

  Isabella narrowed her green eyes at the horrid lady. She planned to use her new knowledge as a means of blackmail. It certainly wasn’t below the typical scheming that Isabella had seen from her during their years at Mrs. Mason’s School for Exceptional Young Ladies.

  She knew full well that Lady Lydia would use any means necessary to get the results she desired. Right now, that desire was focused on becoming the future Duchess of Wintercrest.

  “I have returned the item in question just today. I don’t see how you can use such things to your advantage.”

  “Oh, on the contrary, I see it very well. It matters not if you attempted to resolve your criminal act. It was done all the same. Can you honestly say that the duke would still want you in his house if this was brought to his attention?”

  Isabella thought this over. She wasn’t sure if the duke would see things Lady Lydia’s way or not. Either way, his state had only worsened, she had been told, and she wouldn’t dream of bringing anything to his attention that might weaken him in any way. For the health of her employer, she would submit to Lady Lydia’s will. She may not have particul
arly gotten along with the duke, but he was a good, honest man that didn’t need any more hardship on his plate right now.

  “What do you want of me, Lydia?” Isabella said exasperatedly.

  Lady Lydia formed her slightly rounded face into a satisfied grin. She knew she had Isabella right where she wanted her. Dare she say, a childhood dream finally come true.

  “I have a short list of demands, if you would like to continue your employment here at Wintercrest Manor,” Lady Lydia said in a joyfully baneful way.

  Chapter 26

  Isabella made her way, quite sadly, to her room. According to the agreement with Lady Lydia, she was to have no interaction with the rest of the household. She was to refuse any invitations from Lord Bellfourd, Lady Abigail, or even Lady Wintercrest.

  She was to make any time with the household, as governess to Jaqueline, as brief as possible and then quickly make both their exits.

  Aside from her short mornings with Betsy, and afternoon lunch with Mrs. Murray, her sole companion was Jackie. Of course, she couldn’t share her sorrow with the child. Poor Jackie had already noticed enough the fall in her countenance and had asked if there was something the matter. Isabella, of course, would not get the child involved in such matters.

  She spent all her afternoons and evenings in her room, as instructed by Lady Lydia, so as not to interlope on anyone in the garden.

  She settled herself to take the time to work on Betsy’s dress. With Lady Abigail’s help that first day, she was able to measure and cut out pieces to the proper size as best she could. Her nights of solitude gave her ample time to work the tedious hand sewing of creating the garment.

  Isabella missed the company of Lady Abigail and her youthful energy when she talked. She even missed the occasional teasing that came with conversations with the marquess. Part of her wished she had never gotten to be such good friends with the Wintercrest family. Now in the absence of their companionship, she felt so much emptiness.