A Governess of Great Talents

by Murdoch, Emily E K

  No, despite the awkwardness of the conversation’s content, it had to be done. He wanted to be better than the man who had gone before him. Even if he had no wish to be a member of Parliament, he could desire to be a better man.

  Taking another deep breath, Alfred knocked gently on the boy’s bedchamber door.

  “Miss Hubert?”

  Alfred’s heart sank as he opened the door. “No, it’s me. Alfred.”

  Archibald was seated by the window, a book in his lap and a toy soldier in his hand. The look of disappointment on his face was blatant, and caused a tug of remorse on Alfred’s heartstrings, but the boy quickly covered.

  “Oh, hullo,” he said with a forced brightness that made Alfred wonder whether he had already taken on so many of their father’s bad qualities.

  “Can…can I come in?” Alfred said with a smile.

  Archibald blinked, obviously a little confused by the question. His older brother had never asked permission to enter his bedchamber before. “I suppose so, if you want.”

  This response did not exactly bode well for the conversation that he was about to have, but there was little he could do about that. He did not wish the boy to live in a house of secrets. Their father had always been determined to avoid discomforting topics, and Alfred was not going to fall into that trap.

  Shutting the door behind him, Alfred looked around the room. The walls and ceiling had been painted to resemble a tent when he himself had been a boy, and though the decoration was peeling in parts, it was still there. So, too, was the wooden castle Roberts’s predecessor had made him, soldiers scattered about the room.

  It had been years since he had last been in here. He had already vacated the room by the time Archibald had been born, naturally, and had never had much of a reason to return. It was strange to see it, both his and not his. He could still see the scuff by the window where he had tripped as a boy, attempting to move the castle on his own.

  “This…this used to be my room, you know,” he said lamely.

  Archibald nodded without saying a word, his solder still in his hand.

  Alfred took a deep breath and stepped over to him, dropping awkwardly to sit on the floor beside the boy. “And who are you today?”

  “William the Conqueror,” said Archibald promptly. “Did you know William the Conqueror had four sons, and two of them ended up being king? His wife was Matilda. Matilda was often called Maud, it gets very confusing.”

  “Is that so?” said Alfred vaguely.

  Archibald nodded vigorously. “I like Matilda, not that one, but his granddaughter. She wanted to be queen, but her cousin Stephen didn’t want her to, so they fought a war.”

  Alfred smiled. He forgot, sometimes, just how wondrous it was to discover the history of one’s country for the first time. There was only one first time you learned about these things, and there was a sense of wonder on the boy’s face he had entirely forgotten. He had never had much time for history, but it was clear the toy soldiers were getting far more use by his brother.

  He swallowed. How easy it would be to permit the boy to chatter on, then leave. He could simply talk with him, instead of relaying news he knew would pain the child.

  Alfred’s heart hardened. It was Meredith—Miss Hubert’s fault. She was the one who had gained the boy’s trust, and she was the one hurting him now. If she had not stolen, how different this could all have been.

  “Miss Hubert says she has to go back to London,” said Archibald conversationally, eyes still affixed on his soldier.

  Alfred’s mouth fell open with astonishment. How dare she! Knowing she would be dismissed from her post, her employment terminated due to her own folly and greed, she had told Archibald first—worse, she had told him a lie!

  Going back to London? Poppycock, what nonsense! She wasn’t ‘going back to London,’ as though she wished for a holiday! She was being sent away in disgrace!

  Alfred swallowed. If he had been a different man, perhaps he would have made it known to the world just what she had done. Everyone would know Miss Meredith Hubert was a thief and not to be trusted in the homes of others.

  But it would be a stain on his character if the truth got out. How could anyone trust him if his judgement were so poor, he permitted a crook into his own household!

  Besides, Archibald needed to be able to trust a governess again, and though she had her faults, Miss Hubert had gained his trust. The last thing he needed was for Archibald to think all future governesses were thieves.

  “Yes, Miss Hubert is going away,” Alfred said stiffly, hoping she would be gratified by his restraint. “I have decided she isn’t a good governess for you, so she is returning to London, and you will be getting another one. Another governess, I mean.”

  The toy soldier dropped to the floor. “I do not understand.”

  Alfred saw the confusion in his brother’s eyes. “I know, but you will have to trust me when I say that she is not good for you, Archie.”

  Even the pet name was not enough to make Archibald smile. Instead, his eyes narrowed. “But…but Miss Hubert is the best governess. You will not be able to find another like her, so you must let her stay. I think she is marvelous! You are not to send her away!”

  He should have seen this coming. It was the danger of introducing a stranger into the household, of course, but he had thought the Governess Bureau was a secure choice.

  If only he had spent a little more time with his own brother. It was clear, given a choice between his governess and his own brother, Archibald was quite happy to turn against his kin and stand by the woman who had so quickly tamed his heart.

  Alfred’s own heart quickened. As she had done with him.

  “She has done something wrong,” he said gently, “and for that reason I cannot permit her to stay here. Her punishment is that she has to leave us, Archie. ’Tis for the best.”

  Archibald blinked in only that way a child could do, with such innocence and confusion. “What has she done wrong?”

  Alfred hesitated. How could one explain the whole situation to a child? For it was not merely the theft which had turned his heart against her, though it had instigated the re-examination of his feelings.

  No, it was the fact—if he was honest—that he had entirely trusted her. More, he had succumbed to emotions he had never experienced before. He had taken some of her innocence, had wished to bed her—had restrained from doing so with her character in mind.

  Yet, she had not hesitated to sully that character with the crime of thieving. It was a betrayal like no other he had ever experienced. The more Alfred attempted to explain it, the more pain he felt.

  “She acted wrongly,” was all he managed to say.

  His brother did not look convinced. “But what did she do?”

  His heart contracted as he thought about the family Bible. No one had been harmed, yet she had taken things which simply could not be replaced. Candlesticks, silver, even jewelry, most could be replicated or replaced. But not the things Meredith had stolen.

  “Miss Hubert knows that what she has done is wrong,” he said aloud, “and the trouble is, Archie, she cannot admit she is in the wrong. That means she cannot ask for forgiveness, and we should always own up when we do something wrong, shouldn’t we?”

  “But what if she didn’t do it?” Archibald said earnestly. His small fingers had reached to pick up the dropped soldier, but his eyes never left his brother’s. “She helps me to ride, and she knows an awful lot about history, and…and I like her. Does she have to go?”

  Alfred sighed heavily. His younger brother had voiced many of the thoughts he himself had experienced over the last few days.

  She was wonderful, Meredith Hubert. He wished for nothing more than for her to be innocent, to stay with them and continue to make the Carmichaels’ lives better.

  But he could not ignore the evidence. However much he wished to, there was no way around the fact that items only started to go missing while she was here, and there had been no othe
r change of staffing during that time.

  It was Meredith.

  “She must have been a thief before she came here,” Alfred said, forgetting himself.

  Archibald’s eyes widened. “Thief?”

  Damn and blast! He had told himself he would not reveal anything about the sordid affair to the boy—it wasn’t fair to bring him into this. He had only started the conversation because the boy would need to know she was going.

  “What has she stolen?” Archibald persisted. “It was her horse you know, you got that wrong. You were so sure you were right, and you were wrong. What if you’re wrong now?”

  Alfred carefully bit down his frustration.

  If he could not trust her around his possessions, what made him think he could trust her with his heart?

  “We had an argument,” Alfred said heavily to put the whole conversation to bed.

  “Friends argue sometimes,” said Archibald solemnly, “but they make it up again, if they are true friends. I would do that, if I had a friend.”

  His brother’s words cut through Alfred like a knife. Christ, he had never quite realized just how isolated the boy was—it wasn’t until his sad little face looked wistful at the thought of having a friend, any friend, that he realized how alone he was.

  The governess had been to change that. It had been one of the reasons he had hired a damned governess in the first place. Someone to be a companion to the boy.

  The memory of the two of them flying kites whirled through his mind, and Alfred smiled, despite himself. That should have been the continuation of a wonderful friendship.

  “What has she stolen?” said Archibald.

  Alfred hesitated before responding. He was just a child. It was the principle of the thing, and the fact that they were family items which had hurt. What had Mrs. Martin said, before he had accused Meredith?

  “I’ve gone through all of Miss Hubert’s belongings, Your Grace, and I cannot find hide nor hair of them,” she had said smugly.

  And Alfred had looked at her blankly. “You speak as though that proves her guilt, Mrs. Martin. I would suggest it rather proves the opposite.”

  “Well, makes her an expert, doesn’t it?” Mrs. Martin had retorted. “She had already sold it all, surely?”

  Alfred wondered where the family Bible was now. It was no use to most people, the covers inscribed with all Carmichael births for four generations. But the gold leaf was valuable. It had probably been stripped away by now, ripped from the binding.

  There was a sniffing noise. Alfred saw, to his horror, that Archibald was close to tears.

  “There, now,” he said, rising and bringing the boy into an awkward hug. “There, now.”

  Strangely, Alfred felt better after the embrace. He was not one to typically hug his brother. Perhaps that should change. When they finally pulled apart, Archibald’s eyes were red but there was no sign of tears.

  “Come on,” said Alfred bracingly. “Why not dine with me this evening, Archibald? Won’t that be a treat?”

  Archibald nodded and looked hesitantly at his soldier. “Can…can William the Conqueror come?”

  Alfred smiled. There it was, that childish innocence that his brother still had. Long may it last.

  “Of course he can, but he will not have his own plate, he will have to eat from yours,” he said seriously. “Come on, the dinner gong will be going any moment.”

  Alfred really thought he had managed to pull off the impossible as they walked down the corridor together. He had not entirely told Archibald the truth, and the boy seemed reconciled to the fact his governess was leaving. Precisely when, he would have to discuss with Meredith—Miss Hubert—in the morning.

  But as they reached the top of the staircase, Alfred’s heart skipped a beat. Down in the hallway, right by the front door, was Meredith.

  This was unexpected. He had believed her to be restricted to her bedchamber, but instead, she was here and looking just as beautiful as ever.

  If he could ignore the theft, and the subsequent lies which had attempted to cover it up, he could have kept loving her. He would have loved her forever. They had shared moments which had been special. Moments he would never forget. But he could also not forget the theft, the lies, the attempts to conceal her treachery.

  “Miss Hubert!”

  Before Alfred could reach out and restrain his brother, the child leapt forward with a smile on his face, flinging his arms around her and burying his face in her pelisse.

  “Miss Hubert, I don’t want you to go!”

  Alfred kept his mouth tightly closed as he continued to sedately descend the stairs. If he had as little self-restraint as the boy, he would probably have done a similar thing.

  He had no wish for her to leave. When he watched her gently stroking Archibald’s head and murmuring comforting words, it was easy to pretend she had done no ill, and was only dressed in her coat because she was visiting a friend…

  A friend a long way off. Now Alfred had reached the bottom of the stairs, he could see a trunk beside her in the hallway.

  She was leaving to go somewhere overnight, then. Though it pained him, it was for the best. The last thing he needed in the week before the election was a thief in the house. They could come to an arrangement when she returned—what was her notice period? A month?

  “Archibald, go into the dining room,” Alfred said quietly.

  Archibald did not move but looked up instinctively at Meredith.

  Just in time, then. He could not have the heir to the duchy of Rochdale so enamored with a servant—a thieving servant at that!—that he would not obey an order from his brother.

  “Go on,” Meredith said gently, removing Archibald’s hands from around her. “You do not have to worry, Archibald. Good friends are not always together, but they can remain good friends, even over immense distances.”

  Archibald looked as though he wished to say a great deal more, but at a glance to his older brother, he merely nodded and walked toward the corridor that led to the dining room.

  Alfred waited until his brother was out of earshot before rounding on Meredith.

  “How dare you speak to him like that,” he snapped. “Do not speak to him that way! He is not your friend, and you are no longer his governess!”

  The desire to protect his brother from any further harm pounded through his veins, mingled and conflicted with the passion he still felt for her and the hurt she had caused him.

  Christ alive, but he would need a stiff drink after this conversation.

  Meredith did not look impressed nor cowed by his harsh words. Instead, she said coolly, “I am the only friend that boy has in this house, so please don’t tell me what I can and cannot say to him. You have already apparently decided what I have and haven’t done.”

  Alfred found his hands had clenched into fists and worked hard to unclench them. He needed to keep his temper. She was far sharper than he ever gave her credit for.

  “How,” he said, swallowing to strengthen his voice. “How dare you say that to—”

  “You?” interrupted Meredith with an innocent face. “A duke? A past and future member of Parliament? My master? Or the man I thought cared about me?”

  This was precisely how Alfred did not want the conversation to proceed. He could not bear to have his affection thrown in his face like that; it was abhorrent! She evidently did not care for him; so easily referencing the passion they had shared. But it was not so easy for him.

  As he stepped closer, another two trunks moved into view. Alfred looked more closely. Yes, it was not just a pelisse, but a traveling cloak. She was not going elsewhere for the night. She was leaving.

  Meredith noticed his gaze, and said with supreme calmness, “Yes.”

  “You are leaving.” Alfred said, rather unnecessarily. “Where are you going?”

  “I have taken rooms in the King’s Head, in Rochdale Town,” said Meredith quietly.

  Evidently his surprise was visible on his face.

 
She hesitated, then said, “I would rather be there than under a man’s roof who does not believe me.”

  Well, if she wanted to throw that graciousness back into his face, so be it. Alfred could see nothing but confirmation of her guilt in her sudden decision to leave the house. If she were innocent, would she not wish to stay to attempt to prove it?

  But the pain in his heart was great, and Alfred could not help but breathe, “To think, we could have been married.”

  “We were never even engaged,” said Meredith curtly. “You never bothered to ask for my hand. Just like all the other ladies who went before me.”

  Now Alfred was entirely lost. “The other ladies?”

  “I only know one by name,” said Meredith quietly. Two red spots had appeared on her cheeks, the topic evidently discomforting her. “Molly Butters.”

  Irritation sparked across Alfred’s chest. “Do…do you think I fall in love with every female servant who crosses this threshold? Do you think me some sort of cad who just goes about seducing young ladies in my care and keeping, and then just throws them away?”

  The words rang out in the hallway, far louder than he had intended. Was this the depths of depravity she believed him capable of? Did she not know him at all?

  “Th-That is what you think of me,” Alfred managed, his old stutter creeping back due to the violence of his thoughts. “Well, off you go then. Go.”

  “You could not have stopped me even if you wished to,” snapped Meredith. She picked up her trunks and moved toward the front door, saying over her shoulder, “And I will be taking my horse from your stable, so don’t think I am stealing from you again!”

  It was a low blow but before he could respond, Meredith had disappeared from sight, around the corner of the house.

  Alfred took a deep breath. She was gone. He had to put this whole debacle behind him and concentrate on the election, only a week away.

  Taking care not to look out again in case she had come back into view, Alfred closed the front door and locked it for good measure.