The Observations of a Curious Governess

by Viveka Portman

  Miller’s lips tightened. ‘Does he still harbour such affections for the vicar’s wife?’

  ‘He claims no affection, but I cannot help but feel …’

  ‘Slighted?’ she offered.

  I shrugged, uncertain as to whether she’d offered the correct term. ‘I feel as if I am his second choice, and that if I were to promise myself to him now, in the duration of ten years his affections may change, as they so clearly have once before. Indeed, I fear that his affections are capricious and short-lived – and will not endure.’

  Miller nodded. ‘Well, in such a circumstance you should be well without him.’

  Tears pricked my eyes again. ‘Indeed, I know I should, yet I cannot release the notion that I am wrong in believing it!’ My words echoed into silence. What could Miller say to improve my melancholia? Naught.

  After a time I felt her eyes upon me once again. ‘Is there another reason for your heightened distress, Miss Swan?’

  I hesitated then. Could she know? Of course, I realised, the maids would be aware that I had suffered no monthly indisposition since my arrival – and they would speak together about such matters. Yet I could not divulge this. ‘I don’t know what you mean,’ I replied, with slight hauteur.

  Miller inclined her head, her lips tightening. ‘Do you not?’

  I shook my head.

  ‘In such a case, I hope that should you find yourself in a … delicate position, you will be able to confide in me. Her Ladyship and I care for the staff of this house, and your loyalty to it shall always be rewarded.’

  With that the maid bobbed, and returned to caring for her mistress.

  Chapter 8

  Sunday, 1st August 1813

  I feel I do not need to write of the tiresome week that has passed. It included much teaching of my charges and much reflection, though my reflection on circumstances was largely unnecessary. In addition, my monthlies have still not arrived, and I am quite certain I am with child. This matter has caused me much concern, as naturally it would. I have berated myself ceaselessly, and woken in drenched with perspiration and wracked with fear for my future and that of my child. Fear of destitution, humiliation, seems my daily companion.

  I know that I should have confessed the child’s existence to Mr Reeves this week. Yet I have not, for he has not come to call and I am still early in breeding and things are always unpredictable with new confinements. Caution therefore is still warranted, and I have decided I shall wait to divulge my shame to Mr Reeves and my family. I dare not imagine the devastation this confession will wreak upon my mother and father. Yet, to my own great surprise, events today have largely conspired to put my mind at ease as regards this most sensitive issue.

  Today being Sunday, I knew it was my duty to go to church. I had ignored the sacred calling of the church bell the week proceeding and knew it a Christian duty to go, the sad sinner that I am. Alas, I did not want to do so, indeed not. I was verily loathing seeing Mrs Maria Reeves and, indeed, Mr Reeves.

  I confess here that though I had not made an effort myself to call upon the Reeveses, I had secretly very much wished he would call upon me. I had at least expected him to offer me greater explanations or express a desire to resolve our last disastrous meeting, but he had not and I was absurdly wounded by this. Of course, I knew he had been working with His Lordship during the week, and would have been quite busy, yet still I had taken deep offence.

  Mean-spirited thoughts suggested that he might have discarded me as quickly as he had Mrs Maria Reeves. Would he do such a thing? I hoped not, but could not tell. I knew at length that we would have to meet, so that I may begin to formulate some kind of plan to deal with my pending shame.

  Thus I took myself to church and walked alone, preferring solitude to the noise and activity of my charges or the painful nattering of Nanny Parker. The weather was still warm and very clement. I dressed in my primrose muslin with a straw hat. I wished to at least look well, even if I felt at my very worst. My stomach seemed to roil uncomfortably at the thought of facing Mrs Reeves, or even listening to the Reverend’s sermon.

  My week of neglect had not subdued my wildly alternating emotions, and my tender stomach continued its protestations. I had felt entirely unwell all week and wondered if I should I trust my heart and speak with Mr Reeves. Or, should I need Miller’s advice and leave well enough alone? Forsooth, I have never seen such a wounded expression as I did that day, the moment I pulled my arm from Mr Reeves and called him ‘sir’.

  It had occurred to me that perhaps I should I speak with Mrs Maria Reeves rather than my gentleman. Such a conversation may provide the clarity I suffered a lack of. If I spoke with her perhaps I could understand more clearly the relationship betwixt them. Or perhaps it would simply cause greater turmoil to do so, now I was certain I was with child. I also could not help but wonder if their past affections have any relevance anymore. Had I not myself admired a young Master Hollingsworth, as well as Mr Reeves, when I was of tender years? Perhaps the affection between the Reeveses was of a similar childish nature?

  There was no doubt; I was in a damnable pickle, and no amount of reflection on the matter seemed capable of moving me to make a decision either way.

  So it was I entered the church alone. It took a moment for my eyes to embrace the comforting dimness. As they did, I saw the unmistakeable form of my Mr Reeves, seated in a pew at the rear of the church. My stomach clenched, but as I made to walk past, he saw me and I received a gentle inclination of his head. His eyes were deeply shadowed beneath his creased brow, and I lamented being the cause. Yet, the instant I saw the individual beside him, my sympathy dried into unquenchable irritation. For next to him sat none other than Mrs Maria Reeves. I daresay she was like the cat who’d got the cream, so self-satisfied and pleased she looked.

  Well, I decided at that moment that I would not give into a desire to ignore them. Instead, I inclined my head and bobbed graciously towards them both before I made my way to the Stanton family pew. Lord Stanton had taken time from his convalescing wife, no doubt to give thanks to the Lord for his daughter’s healthy arrival and his wife’s swift recovery. He sat beside Nanny Parker and his elder offspring, who were remarkably well-composed in their father’s presence. I sat quietly a row behind them. Lord Stanton turned at the sound of my entry and inclined his head. I reciprocated, then delved into my reticule for my hand Bible to feign necessity in some other area.

  I quite confess, I did not truly hear the sermon. It was something about covetousness or some such. I could feel Jonathan’s eyes watching me, and those of Mrs Reeves. It was a most unpleasant and distressing circumstance.

  The Reverend’s sermon was dull and, as was his habit, interminably long. Thus it was that at the service’s conclusion I swept from the church with a sense of relief and attempted to avoid the attentions of any of the congregation.

  Yet, as soon as I turned to leave, Mr Reeves called out. My head swam at the sound of his voice – a voice that had once whispered the sweetest secrets to me. It was smooth but deeply troubled.

  ‘Miss Swan, a moment, if you please.’

  I fear my expression betrayed me, and I worried at my lip as I turned to face the gentleman I had so deeply come to love. His expression was tight. Behind him, Mrs Reeves stood, though I did not grace her with a greeting. Perhaps I was being pernickety and cruel; I didn’t care.

  As I looked into Mr Reeves’ tormented gaze, I said the only thing I could think of.

  ‘Mr Reeves, truly, I have urgent business to attend this morning. If you would excuse me, I must be on my way.’

  His brow furrowed into further ruts of angst, and my heart ached to see it so. Then, to my utmost horror, he moved forward swiftly to capture my hand. The gesture was witnessed by very nearly the entire congregation. I gasped, and tried discreetly to remove my hand from his, lest we arouse even greater scandal.

  ‘Martha,’ he said, voice low.

  I looked about the gathered people, all trying now to obser
ve our intrigue unobtrusively and failing in the attempt. Momentarily unable to move, I affected a weak, unconvincing smile and spoke low and softly. ‘Mr Reeves, perhaps we ought to have this discussion at a later date, in a more convenient and less public arena.’

  ‘Mrs Reeves.’ He turned to face the loathsome woman who’d ruined my joy. ‘I shall be escorting Miss Swan back to Stanton, if you will excuse us.’

  Mrs Reeves opened her mouth to retort, but she was quickly silent when Lord Stanton approached. I had never been so grateful to see the rascal.

  ‘Mr Reeves, my good fellow,’ he greeted the gentleman genially.

  ‘Lord Stanton, good day.’ Mr Reeves dropped my hand as if it scalded. Lord Stanton’s shrewd, sparkling blue eyes did not miss the gesture. ‘May I introduce my cousin the vicar’s wife, Mrs Maria Reeves?’

  Mrs Reeves curtsied and blushed all the way down to her high-necked blue gown.

  ‘Mrs Reeves, always a pleasure. We have met, of course.’

  At this gentle rebuff, Mr Reeves blushed at his foolishness – of course Lord Stanton knew Mrs Reeves, he was the benefactor of the vicarage. I felt momentarily sorry for his faux pas.

  ‘I could not help overhearing your offer to walk Miss Swan back to Stanton. There is no need, Mr Reeves. No need at all. I should gladly accompany her.’ He offered me a charming but altogether inappropriate smile. ‘My children and Nanny are stopping by the meadow in search of bees – oddly – and I’m damned petrified of the things. I have no desire to join them.’

  Dearest reader, you could imagine Mr Reeves’ utter horror at the suggestion. My employment with Lord Stanton was scandal enough, and knowing that the rake wished to accompany me alone on the walk to Stanton must have been utterly untenable to him.

  ‘My Lord, there is no need,’ I began hesitantly. ‘I am quite capable of walking alone. I should quite relish the solitude.’

  Lord Stanton frowned, and looked about. There were some grey clouds gathering, but the weather was otherwise very clement.

  ‘I fear I must insist, Miss Swan.’ With those words, there was no excuse I or Mr Reeves could offer without causing deep offence.

  I inclined my head slightly, then turned to Mr Reeves and Mrs Reeves. ‘Good day to you both,’ I said, and curtsied.

  At this, Lord Stanton offered his arm and I accepted it gingerly. His arm was firm and strengthening beneath mine. I knew that in ordinary circumstances it should not be at all unseemly that an employer may walk his employee home, particularly if the location of home was in the same direction. However, for that employer to be Lord Stanton and the employee a spinster governess, the gesture was one that no doubt would incite town gossip – which. I considering my condition, I was most anxious to avoid.

  ****

  The walk home with Lord Stanton, however, was largely uneventful. He was gracious and most decorous of my sensibilities. However, as we neared the house, he paused.

  ‘Miss Swan,’ he said. ‘I wish to thank you for your discretion on matters that I understand could not be accepted readily by many.’

  I hesitated, and looked beyond His Lordship to the woodlands. ‘My Lord, I have no notion of what you speak.’ It was a lie, but I did not want to venture into this unseemly conversation.

  He laughed. ‘If you do not, then you are as blind as you are clever.’

  I fanned my cheeks to disguise my surprise at his compliment, but otherwise did not reply.

  ‘Miss Miller has spoken to me, Miss Swan, and has made mention of your difficulties.’

  My face began to burn. ‘My Lord, think nothing more of it. You have offered me your thanks through financial recompense previously, and you need not repeat it.’

  Lord Stanton laughed then. ‘That was but a trifle. Our preferences at Stanton and your knowledge of them are something that sits ill with me.’

  I thought back then to that bizarre and erotic scene betwixt Lord Stanton, Lady Stanton and Miller. ‘Well …’ I fumbled on my words. ‘You may have complete faith that I shall not divulge a thing to anybody.’

  ‘I do have that faith, Miss Swan – if I did not, you should never have remained here. I have the highest regard and care for my staff at Stanton. Only those who prove themselves worthy remain.’ He sighed. ‘I have made many, many mistakes in my life – as I am certain you and half of London are aware. Yet what I have now at Stanton is something I would rather not jeopardise with unseemly gossip of it.’

  He was testing me, I was certain. The only thing I could do then was reaffirm my loyalty to him.

  ‘Again, My Lord, you have my word.’

  He looked at me a little crossly then. ‘Allow me to finish, Miss Swan. This is damnably awkward.’

  I’d never heard the gentleman speak with such intensity or without a laugh to soften it, and I found myself unutterably frightened.

  ‘I am asking you, Miss Swan if there is anything, an amount of money perhaps, that you require to fulfil your comforts.’

  What could he mean? Had I not already promised him my silence? Had I not already said that I had been financially compensated enough?

  ‘I have told you, Lord Stanton, you have my word. I do not require anything in exchange for my silence. You are insulting me by insinuating otherwise.’

  Clearly, Lord Stanton was very much used to people accepting his offers, rather than declining them in such a blunt fashion. He gave me a narrowed look.

  ‘Miss Swan, I can think of no more delicate terms! I am, in the most awkward of fashions, attempting to offer financial assistance, independence even. Just suggest an amount and I shall pay it.’

  I was nearly made insensible by this particular declaration. ‘But why are you doing this?’

  Lord Stanton rolled his eyes at me, clearly appalled. ‘Can you truly be so witless?’ he snapped.

  My cheeks heated with his casual slur. ‘I must indeed be, for I cannot reason why you are behaving this way!’

  ‘I have spoken with Miller,’ he said. ‘She has told me of your difficulties …’

  ‘My difficulties?’ I repeated, gooseflesh burgeoning on my arms. Did he mean Mr Reeves and my delicate state? Involuntarily, my hands flew to my abdomen, where Mr Reeves’ child had taken root.

  His Lordship did not miss the gesture. ‘Indeed, she has told me of your affections for young Mr Reeves, and that there is reason to believe you… you may be breeding with his child.’

  I gasped, my head swimming with the shame of it. Spoken aloud as Lord Stanton had done, my behaviour was beyond sordid. It was vulgar and shameful. Heat scorched my skin.

  ‘Oh!’ I gasped, but embarrassed though he undoubtedly was, Stanton continued bluntly.

  ‘I had thought to spare you the embarrassment of being offered charity, Miss Swan, but you failed to follow my ruse. My wife and her maid – not to mention my children – are terribly fond of you, and I have appreciated your loyal discretion on more than one occasion. I am offering you my protection and a home – so that you may escape the indignity and shame your condition will bring upon you.’ He looked at me with sympathy. ‘I am no stranger to scandal, as you well know, but it would be detrimental for my daughters for you to continue as our governess once your condition becomes apparent. Instead, I shall offer you a cottage and a wage in exchange for your continuing loyalty.’ He fell silent, his sparkling eyes sincere.

  I seemed unable to catch my breath; the world swam blurrily before my eyes. It was all too much! The scandal, the hurt, the shame, the knowledge my employer knew of my ruin and still wished to assist me.

  I wanted to weep. Instead, I am afraid to admit, I fainted.

  ***

  I was revived a short time later by the strong pungent scents of crushed pine. The vegetation was held beneath my nose by a strong, familiar hand.

  ‘Martha!’ Jonathan cried. ‘Are you well?’

  ‘Clearly not,’ I heard Lord Stanton drawl. ‘She’s fair fainted.’

  ‘What did you do to her?’ Jonathan snarled, and throug
h my faded vision, I could see his expression set with fierce righteousness. ‘I will call you forth, Stanton, if you’ve laid a single hand upon her.’

  Lord Stanton laughed. ‘My dear fellow, don’t reach for your pistols just yet. I would do no such thing. I’m sure you would never understand, but my hands are already filled.’

  Jonathan met Lord Stanton’s teasing gaze. ‘Forgive me My Lord. I …’ he broke away. His eyes met mine and I stared into his gaze; it was so concerned, and so love-filled, that I was possessed by a furious regret at neglecting him so. ‘What happened?’ he asked, softer now.

  ‘That is between the governess and myself, Reeves, unless the lady wishes to divulge the conversation to you. I suggest you desist the line of questioning, lest you cause another faint.’

  I took a deep breath, surprised to find my head cushioned by one of the gentlemen’s jackets. I struggled to stand.

  ‘No, Miss Swan, remain as you are. I shall go and get the physician,’ Lord Stanton ordered. ‘He remains at Stanton with my wife, and we are not that far. Mr Reeves, I trust you will stay with the lady until I return?’

  The relief that spread over Jonathan’s face was nearly comical. ‘Of course,’ he agreed.

  Stanton looked at me with a gaze most firm. ‘And I trust you will think on all I have said?’ He paused. ‘And when I next ask for your answer, I shall ensure you’re seated, to avoid this melodrama occurring again.’

  He was jesting, I think, though one can never be sure. With a curt bow, Lord Stanton turned and resumed the walk to Stanton, albeit at a more furious pace.

  ‘Martha, we must speak. I am loathe to continue this way with you. I know you’re hurt that I’d never mentioned Mrs Reeves before, but you must know, I never mentioned it because it does not matter to me. You are all that matters to me – and have been for such a long while. Forgive me. ’

  I bit my lip. ‘It is I who should beg your forgiveness, for I too am sorry. My behaviour was impulsive and ill-thought out. I was irrational, I think, with jealousy. I have had such difficulty coming to terms with all I have done since arriving at Stanton, I scarcely know who I am any more.’