The Enigmatic Governess of Buford Manor_A Historical Regency Romance Novel

by Emma Linfield

  Perhaps she did not love David as well as I love Philip. My love for Philip will never die but perhaps ours was rare. It is not my place to judge her decisions.

  Yet Rose could not help but feel a slight bitterness toward David’s widow, despite not knowing her. She could not help but wonder if Bridget and John were as happy with the impending union as Bridget claimed.

  “The point, my dear, is that there is a noble family in East Anglia who is in need of a governess for two children, one boy, one girl although I understand the girl is older and cares mostly for herself these days.”

  Rose blinked her blue eyes, the information hanging in the air like a cloud of tinder smoke.

  “In East Anglia,” she repeated as she realized that Bridget waited impatiently for an answer. “Whose family is it?”

  “The Duke of Buford. Eloise assures me he and his wife are respectable and very kind. If not for her impending marriage, she claims she would stay with them until Lord Arlington comes of age, thereby writing her a recommendation.”

  “Lord Arlington? I thought it was the Duke of Buford.”

  “Lord and Lady Arlington are the niece and nephew of Duchess Buford. The children were orphaned.”

  Rose felt her eyes closing slightly.

  Eloise lost her husband when she was young, the Arlingtons are orphans…there are interesting similarities between me and these people. Is this a sign from the heavens?

  Somehow, she could not bring herself to believe so as Rose knew what accepting such a position would entail. She would be required to leave her beloved land, the farm she had tended so lovingly, in anxious expectation of Philip returning.

  The memories I have will be gone.

  Rose reminded herself that in one form or another, she would lose the house.

  It is better that I go willingly rather than become evicted and shamed before the community. I will always have the memories of Philip in my mind where I have held him for almost three years. Perhaps I can pretend he is still at sea and will still come back to me. Anything will be better than humiliating myself and his legacy.

  Of course, the Boyles would never permit such a thing to occur. They would shield her as they always had. Here was Bridget Boyle, offering her an opportunity.

  This woman is my guardian angel. Her and John. I must never take them for granted.

  “How old is the boy?” Rose asked.

  She was aware that she was merely biding her time, willing her mind to form the words of acceptance but her heart still fought against the utterance.

  “Ten now. The girl, Betsey is ten and two.”

  Rose suddenly noticed she had not taken a breath and exhaled in a whoosh of air.

  There is nothing left to discuss. You have been afforded a chance that few in your situation could claim.

  “Rose, child, I know this is much to discuss but I must provide her with an answer. She offered it to you first, knowing how much affection I feel for you. She is a good woman, Eloise, and she understands loss the same way you have felt it.”

  “Yes,” Rose agreed, bobbing her head. “I will gratefully accept the position. Would you care for me to pen the letter in response?”

  Bridget’s face melted into a look of relief.

  “Oh, how wonderful!” she choked, and Rose realized that her neighbor had been expecting a rejection.

  I have been insufferable and stubborn, Rose thought with shame. She swallowed the lump in her throat, a gale of emotions threatening to bring her to tears.

  No, she told herself firmly. You have cried enough tears. You will go to Buford and leave your grief behind. Philip would not wish to see you like this. You must honor his memory by living your life.

  “I shall write a reply to Mrs. Boyle now,” she told Bridget. “Thank you, Bridget. The kindness you have shown me will never be forgotten.”

  “The only gratitude I require is that you live a life without sadness,” she replied, gently touching Rose’s fair cheek. Rose nodded slowly but shifted her eyes away so that Bridget might not read the lie in her gaze.

  I will live my life without tears, she promised quietly. But not without sadness.

  Chapter 6

  Theodore entered the bedchambers, setting down a sterling silver coffee set on the table before attending to drapery. A grey light filtered into the quarters and Nicholas blinked against it slightly, stretching.

  “Good morrow, my lord.”

  “Good morrow,” Nicholas replied, sitting up beneath the canopy, his dark curls falling over his face. “Has it snowed?”

  “Indeed, my lord. Quite a lot from the looks of it.”

  Nicholas put his feet into his slippers and reached for a dressing gown to combat the chill in the apartment.

  “I had the hearth heated in the night while you slept, my lord,” Theodore added, and Nicholas noted the flames dancing in the stone fireplace.

  “How is it the winters seem to be growing colder?” he mused as he drew toward the rectangular windows. “Or perhaps I am merely growing older?”

  “You shall never be as old as me, my lord,” Theodore intoned as if he had the answer precisely on hand.

  A harsh draft wafted through the mortar, drenching Nicholas in a sea of chills but he barely noticed. He was instantly captivated by the endless sea of white, capping the forest beyond his view. At the clearing, he saw a family of deer prancing through the freshly fallen snow, nudging one another in play.

  It was a sight to behold and he did not notice that Theodore had retreated from his bedchambers to empty the bedpan.

  We are nearing Christmas already. How did time pass so fluidly?

  In days, the boughs of pine and holly would adorn the bannisters and doorways in a comely display of green. Nicholas was not oft prone to bouts of sentimentality, but he could not help enjoying the season in its beauty.

  A fondness overcame him, a childlike wonderment, one he kept very much to himself, lest he be jested by his peers.

  “Lord Arlington has requested an audience,” Theodore announced, returning to the bedchambers and Nicholas stifled a smile, turning to see young Harry on the heels of the butler.

  Has he come to stand levee? Nicholas thought with some amusement. It was hardly their way but he was not one to dismiss the boy on such a beautiful morning.

  “You have taken to requesting, have you?” Nicholas teased and Harry smiled bashfully, his earnest blue eyes embarrassed. “Have you come to divert me, Harry?”

  “Her Grace says it is my terrible manners which has driven Miss Eloise away,” he confessed, and Nicholas was aghast by his mother’s untruth. He did not correct his cousin, but he reminded himself to have a word with his mother.

  She means well, instilling proper form in the children but she must mind her wording. He is but a boy, after all.

  It was commonplace knowledge, after all, that Eloise Boyle was betrothed to a secretary in the Pearlman estate and the jointure was set to occur in the new year. She had been a loyal member of the family and given decent notice, finding her own replacement et al. There was no ill-will toward her departure, something she had done only two days earlier. None of which had played a part in the behavior of the Frampton’s ward.

  Eloise had found love, or at least a strong arrangement to suit her needs and the household had wished her well in her endeavors. Yet it was not Nicholas’ place to undermine his mother and he did not.

  “Does she?” he replied. “How unfortunate. Do you believe you were so incorrigible?”

  “I think that Betsey is more so than me,” he quipped and before he could stop himself, Nicholas found himself nodding in agreement. Happily, Harry’s forlorn face turned brighter as he shyly shuffled toward Nicholas. For the first time, the man realized the child was dressed finely, a skeleton suit of deep brown accenting a mop of newly brushed hair properly. The ruffles of his neck were white and starched, black shoes shining with fresh polish. It was not attire for bounding about in the snow by any means and for a concerning mom
ent, Nicholas wondered if he was tardy for worship.

  How long have a I been asleep?

  “Is it God’s day?” Nicholas mused, eyeing his cousin with confusion. “Why are you dressed so finely this morn?”

  “Our new governess arrives today,” he explained. “Duchess Buford insisted Betsey and I be on our best behavior.”

  Nicholas chortled.

  “Is that within the realm of reason for your sister?”

  “She has been confined to her quarters until Mrs. Parsons arrives.”

  “Mrs. Parsons,” Nicholas repeated, the name sticking to the roof of his mouth like sap. “She sounds lovely.”

  He wondered if his skepticism sounded in his voice.

  “She is a widow,” Harry offered, staring at his shoes with nervous eyes and Nicholas could sense his reservations. “She comes from near Dartford.”

  The man immediately envisioned a grey-haired crone with a shrewd tongue and quick strap. He hoped his analysis was inaccurate for the children’s sakes. Nicholas’ own governess had not been well-humored and lessons had not been pleasant in his boyhood.

  Fortunately, I was spared the strap. Mrs. Johnson did show mercy in those instances.

  “That is a fair journey to come from Dartford,” Nicholas offered.

  Two days of travel by stagecoach, he realized. She will undoubtedly be weary when she arrives.

  A flash of pity overcame him and he smiled reassuringly at Harry. He did not want to imagine what a fatigued, surly governess would have to say to an impressionable young boy.

  “I am sure all will go swimmingly,” Nicholas announced bravely but Harry did not seem convinced.

  Idly, he wondered how Eloise knew her replacement but the household staff was none of his concern and he pushed the thought from his mind.

  That is Peter’s issue, not mine.

  “I must dress,” he told Harry gently. “Mind Duchess Buford’s instructions. You would like to make a good impression upon Mrs. Parsons, especially if she comes from so far away. She will be without friends and in need of a friendly face, not mischief.”

  “Indeed,” Harry agreed, stepping back but Nicholas could sense his reluctance to leave.

  “Is there another matter, cousin?”

  The boy’s gaze inched up Nicholas’ wrinkled nightshirt until it rested on his face.

  “What if she is unbearable?” he whispered, cautiously looking over his shoulder as if he expected a spy to be waiting in the shadows. “What shall I do?”

  “Did you enjoy tutelage under Miss Eloise?”

  “Yes!” he replied passionately, in a fashion only a child could manage for such a trivial concern. “I did not mean to drive her from Rosecliff, I swear it!”

  “You are far too young to swear anything,” Nicholas commented dryly.

  “I only mean I would do anything to have her return!”

  Nicholas saw that his governess’ departure had caused him a great deal of aguish, and he was abruptly irate with his mother for adding to the boy’s woe.

  “You must be joyed for Miss Eloise and her impending nuptials. Finding a match at her age and with her social standing can be quite a trying experience,” Nicholas explained. “If you should choose to marry a governess one day, you would want her employers to send her off with good intent, not tears and caterwauling.”

  He did not intend to sound harsh but even at the precious age of ten, the boy needed to understand the ways of manhood.

  “Marry a governess?” Harry choked. “But, Nicholas, we are nobility!”

  A burst of aggravation filled the marquess but he adeptly held his composure. He could not fault the boy for his antediluvian thinking. It was how his mother and father had raised him.

  Not everyone believes in the notion of romantic marriage. Fortunately for Harry and I, we will be afforded the opportunity to wed the ones we love.

  “Which is precisely why we are able to wed who we choose,” he answered firmly. “The duke will want you to marry the woman of your choice. He does not partake in the concept of arrangement.”

  Harry seemed genuinely perplexed as if Nicholas had explained that cats were truly dogs and dogs were sheep. Nicholas wished he had not engaged in such a complex conversation with a boy so young.

  “Off you go,” he insisted before Harry could open his mouth to respond. “The duchess will be angered should Mrs. Parsons arrive, and you are nowhere to be seen.”

  Harry nodded and turned to leave but Nicholas could read the dejection in his shoulders.

  To be young and troubled by such nonsense, Nicholas mused.

  He thought of his own governess, a stern, embittered spinster named Frieda Johnston who taught less than she chided and despised the outdoors.

  At least I was spared the strap, he reminded himself but that was not difficult to understand.

  For Nicholas had always been an obedient, wit-filled child. He did not need strict discipline nor excessive guidance. Inherently he had respected his elders and adhered to the proper way without punishment or threat, attributes which had served him well into manhood. Of course, he hadn’t any siblings to corrupt him.

  Perhaps I am feeling sympathy for the wrong person, he chuckled to himself. Between Harry and his sister, Mrs. Parsons will have her hands as full as a court jester’s.

  Yet Nicholas knew that no matter how awful a governess Mrs. Parsons might prove to be, the children would adapt to her rules as good lords and ladies did.

  The sun rose outside the long windows and Nicholas saw that he had wasted much time indulging his cousin. He needed to dress and meet his father as they were meant to travel to Cambridge for business together that morning.

  Hastily, he adorned the britches and buckskin trousers left by Theodore, the material fitting snugly against his hips. As he adjusted the black buttons beneath his navel, a cold chill slid over his neck and Nicholas tensed instinctively. The odd sensations of apprehension seemed to be overcoming him at random for months and he could not identify what it was which was troubling him.

  Since the night of the spring gala, when his mother had admitted to feeling uneasy, it seemed that Nicholas had assumed her concerns, although Duchess Buford had never again raised the issue. There had been times when Nicholas had longed to speak to her about what she had felt but he quickly dismissed the notion. Seeing his mother as distraught as she had been that evening was something he never wanted to see again.

  It is as I told her; whatever it is shall pass. I am merely permitting my mind to play with me. If I continue on this path, I will end up with melancholy. It will not fare well for my parents if I should be committed.

  He tried to smile but he was feeling rather humorless. He peered around the apartment, as if looking for something amiss but of course there was nothing he could easily identify.

  It is merely a draft from the outdoors.

  Commonly he used the same excuse. It was a much more comforting thought than the spirits of the old sweeping through Rosecliff, attempting to forewarn of impending dangers.

  You have perused far too much Shakespeare in your days, Nicholas chided himself, fastening his shirt as Theodore appeared for a third time.

  “Shall I assist, my lord?”

  Nicholas shook his curls.

  “No, Theodore, thank you,” he sighed. “I am about done now.”

  It was unusual for the butler to ask, knowing that the answer from Nicholas’ lips never varied. He did not much care for being fussed over. That was more the Duke of Buford’s fancy and Nicholas knew that Theodore could not maintain two positions in the same moment.

  “His Grace awaits you in the informal dining room.”

  Nicholas abruptly understood.

  That is why he has come to offer his assistance.

  The words were meant to encourage speed and they did precisely that. Nicholas quickly fastened the final button, smoothing his starched shirt, reaching for his cravat and slipping into the dark blue waistcoat which Theodore held out for hi
m.

  He needn’t say a word. I can feel the tension oozing from his body as he waits for me to rush along.

  He spun to follow the butler from the bedchambers, contrite at having kept his father waiting for even a short amount of time. There were interviews to attend the following day and it was a ten-hour journey into Cambridge yet. Nicholas was sure his father was impatient to leave at once.

  As the door to his quarters closed silently behind him, Nicholas had all but forgotten the nervousness which had seized him just moments earlier. He had much bigger issues to address than an uncouth feeling.