by Adele Clee
Christian may have been a fool, but he was not blind.
Had it not been for the children he’d have gone to London, lived separately from the woman he should never have married. But one did not leave those most precious in precarious situations. And so he’d resigned himself to a life of misery. At least until Jacob and Alice were of an age to make their own way in the world.
But then his wife died in tragic circumstances.
Pain sliced through his heart when he thought of his children. To know of such horrors at such a young age had affected their mental well-being. Mrs Hibbet was right. Another governess was the last thing they needed.
But how could he create a life of stability when the house was in turmoil?
As he approached the rusty old gates of Morton Manor, he had no time to contemplate the answer. Instinctively, his horse grew skittish, pulled up and snorted loudly when Christian tried to guide him through the stone pillars.
“There’s nothing to fear.” He patted the beast and whispered words of comfort. He, too, felt a degree of trepidation. The urge to turn around and ride far away from the eerie place proved overwhelming. But the ghosts of the past informed his view, he reminded himself. And with a horse named Valiant, one expected the beast to have a little courage.
Indeed, his mount snorted once more before stepping across the boundary. Weeds littered the gravel drive. Diseased and gnarled branches lay amongst the overgrown grass on one side of the border. Death and decay were words frequently associated with Morton Manor.
The house came into view like an ugly blot on the landscape.
He would have looked up at the oddly spaced windows, remembered Cassandra’s mocking grin as she watched him depart, but it was the golden-haired ray of sunshine hammering on the front door that captured his attention.
“Rose!” Christian cried out to her, although he’d not meant for the word to sound so sharp. Then again, she had disobeyed his instructions.
Upon hearing the clip of Valiant’s hooves, she swung around. “Oh, it’s you, my lord.”
A range of emotions marred her pretty face. She appeared apprehensive. Sorrow swam in her eyes, and she turned from him once more and banged the door with an air of desperation.
“Were you expecting someone else?”
Obsessed with gaining entrance to the house, she did not reply.
“They’ve gone. There’s no one here.” The croak in her voice conveyed the same sense of hopelessness that tainted her countenance. “I’ve crept around, looked through every window, resorted to rapping the door more times than I care to count.”
Christian dismounted and climbed the narrow flight of steps to stand at her side. “Perhaps your employer misinformed you and recalled the staff back to town. Are you certain it was the owner of Morton Manor who hired you?”
Rose nodded, though the look of anguish on her face baffled him.
The chivalrous part of his nature wished for a way to ease her torment.
“Perhaps you’re right,” she said with a weary sigh. “Perhaps they’ve all left for London.”
“Then there is no need to inform them of your change in circumstances.”
She turned and looked out over the desolate landscape, scanned the ground in front of the house for what he did not know. “Do you think they left in a carriage?”
The question was as odd as her reaction to the occupants’ absence, and yet he searched the gravel looking for tracks purely to appease her.
“Servants travel on the mail coach. Only a nursemaid or a paid companion might expect such a luxury.”
Rose hung her head. “What have I done?”
“What is it that troubles you?”
“I … I wanted to warn her.” The words tumbled from her mouth on a sob. “I should not have waited. I should have come here at first light. It is my fault. Tiredness is a terrible thing.”
Usually Christian despised the sound of a woman crying. Cassandra’s tears were as fake as her protestations of fidelity, yet Rose’s reaction spoke only of sincerity. So much so, he wrapped his arms around her and let her bawl into the folds of his cravat.
It was a mistake.
A pat on the arm would have sufficed along with a few words of encouragement to pull herself together. And yet he was the one who took a measure of comfort from holding her close. It was the pain in his heart that eased when he inhaled the sweet scent of her hair, when the warmth of her body penetrated his clothing.
God, it had been so long since he’d felt anything other than bitterness and guilt.
Another heartfelt sob escaped, and her shoulders shook as the dam holding back her emotion came crashing down. No doubt her sadness stemmed from more than her failure to alert the housekeeper of her plans. Christian suspected the tears were for her family, for the unfortunate cards dealt by Fate’s cruel hand.
Her hands came to rest on his waist, and a tremor shot through him like a bolt from the heavens.
“Forgive me,” she eventually said as her cries subsided. But he’d closed his eyes, couldn’t look at her while all honourable intentions were held together by a flimsy thread. “I don’t know what came over me.”
Christian grabbed hold of her hands and moved them down to rest at her sides. He opened his eyes and took a step back.
“You were obviously distressed.” Thick tears coated her lashes. Red veins littered the whites of her eyes. “Though I assume it is your recent misfortune that caused such an outpouring of sorrow.”
Rose stared at him, swallowed deeply and blinked. “This is the first time in my life I’ve been alone.”
The comment caused knots to form in his stomach. “I understand,” was all he managed to say.
They stood in silence, their ragged breathing filling the air. The need to ease her woes came upon him again. As their eyes locked, he forgot how much he detested the place. He failed to acknowledge that being on the grounds of the manor roused all the old feelings of deceit and betrayal.
In those few perfect seconds, he experienced peace.
“Would you mind escorting me around the perimeter of the house?” She glanced back at the solid front door with its rusty knocker. “I’d like to be certain no one is home before I leave.”
Christian inclined his head. “Certainly.”
Whenever Rose spoke, he forgot other things too: her status, his morals and ethics. And so, he resisted the need to offer his arm and simply gestured for her to proceed first.
They walked around the manor, peering through every window, checking inside the outbuildings, trying the handle on the door to the servants’ entrance.
The house was still, silent, though in his mind he could still hear the groans and wails of the previous patients, the sound of them banging the windows, pleading for release.
“Have you always lived at Everleigh?” Rose asked as they wandered over to the stables.
“For most of my life, yes.” Other than the few years he’d spent in London. “I have a house in town but believe it’s better to raise children in the country where the air is clean.”
In his youth, he’d been like any other young buck. Trailing from one ball to the next, happy to indulge the pretty widows, to drink copious amounts of brandy, to do anything to annoy his father.
“Then you must remember when the manor housed patients.”
“Yes.” The word was but a whisper. “I remember.”
“Was it as dreadful here as they say?”
Christian contemplated her question as he unhooked the latch on the stable door and peered inside. “Grim would be a better word, though the heavy sadness in the air proved to be the most disturbing.” Indeed, he could still feel it clawing at his shoulders even though the house lay empty.
“There’s no one here,” Rose interjected as she glanced over his shoulder. It surprised him that she expected to find people in the stables and not horses. “Perhaps we should head back to Everleigh.”
Christian closed the door and gestured for
them to return to the courtyard. “I can write to the owner and explain your situation if it will help clear your conscience.”
“That won’t be necessary.”
They followed the path back to the spot where Valiant stood waiting patiently.
“Mrs Hibbet told me that the staff are not to mention the manor in your presence,” Rose suddenly said. “Were you acquainted with a patient?”
Christian stopped dead in his tracks. It crossed his mind to tell her that maids should know their place and keep their prying questions to themselves. But no matter how hard he tried to fight the feeling, he did not see Rose as a maid.
A tiny part of him wished the housekeeper had opened the front door and forced Rose to honour her word and accept the position. A life without temptation would be easier if not a little dull.
Perhaps sensing his disquiet, Rose sighed. “I’m afraid I’m not used to guarding my tongue. The conversation flows so naturally between us I often forget my place.”
“Life seems to be one constant readjustment,” he said remembering the way she clutched his waist when at her most vulnerable. He took hold of the horse’s reins and brought the animal to stand at his side. “Do you mind if we walk back to Everleigh?”
He could not allow his maid to ride while he walked. The last thing he needed was to feed the village gossips. And it would only make her transition from gentleman’s daughter to hired help all the more difficult. He refused to ride and watch her walk. The only other option was to ride together, but he’d already made enough mistakes, crossed enough moral boundaries.
“No, not at all.” She offered him a bright smile. “I’ve spent months indoors and relish the thought of time spent out in the fresh air.”
Christian led Valiant down the gravel drive. For once, the oppressive aura surrounding the manor did not follow him to the gate.
“My wife visited the manor on occasion,” he found himself saying. “Well, quite regularly in fact.”
Rose glanced at him as they passed between the stone pillars and turned into the narrow lane. “Please, say no more. I did not mean to pry, and I would not want to cause you any pain by reliving the memory.”
Christian met her gaze. The rays of the afternoon sun touched her loosely tied hair, the light drawing his attention to the wisps of gold at her temples. Like the warm glow that floods the body when one looks up at the sky on a bright summer’s day, Rose’s presence brought the same comforting relief.
“I’ve not spoken about it before, not to anyone.”
The truth shocked him. All those hours of silent contemplation and not one word had passed from his lips. Perhaps the only way to banish the ghosts of the past was to confront them. Stepping foot on the grounds of Morton Manor hadn’t been as harrowing as he’d imagined.
“Do not feel as though you have to speak about it now.”
Most ladies would have relished the thought of hearing secrets, would have squeezed every last drop of information from him in order to share it with their friends.
Rose was different — in every way.
“After the children were born, Cassandra became forgetful, preoccupied,” he said, stroking Valiant’s nose as they strolled up the lane. “It all started with an addiction to laudanum.” One lie had led to another and another until nothing that came out of her mouth made sense. “Reverend Wilmslow brought her to Morton Manor in the hope it might help.”
Rose sucked in a sharp breath though tried to disguise it. “Your wife was a patient?”
“No. I would never have left her in that godforsaken place. But she came to visit for an hour or two each week.” The visits were daily near the end. “The warden, Mr Watson, knew how to deal with the delusional, and Dr Taylor and Reverend Wilmslow did what they could to help her.”
There was a tense moment of silence.
Rose hung her head as her breathing grew shallow.
Hell, he shouldn’t have told her.
“I admire your strength,” she suddenly said. “It must have been a difficult time for you. But you kept your wife at home. My … my father once locked me in the house for six months hoping to rid me of my independent spirit. The loss of liberty is suffocating and would be damaging to those with a troubled mind.”
Christian stopped walking.
Rose took a few more paces before she realised and then turned to face him.
“Your father kept you a prisoner in your home?” Why anyone would want to suppress the true nature of such a vibrant woman was beyond him. But there were cruel men in the world, men threatened by their own shadow.
“I try not to think of it.” She looked up at the blue sky, and the beginnings of a smile touched her lips. “A dear friend once told me that sometimes our greatest teachers are those who cause us the most pain. I believe she was right.”
Rose didn’t wait for a response, but swung around and continued on her way.
Christian snorted. If Cassandra was his greatest teacher, for the life of him, he could not make sense of the lesson.
He watched Rose glide along the lane, mesmerised by the grace and elegance contained within those precise steps. Her natural poise suggested an inner confidence though it was clear her heart was still healing from whatever trauma she’d suffered.
His heart was healing, too.
Spending a few minutes in Rose’s company made him feel invigorated, if not a little reckless. As he hurried to catch up with her, it occurred to him that Mrs Hibbet was right. Rose would be a positive influence on his children. Perhaps if he limited the time she spent with them to an hour or two a day, they might come to accept her. They might decide not to put toads in her bed.
“As it’s clear your skills with a poke and scuttle are adequate at best,” he began, as an odd surge of excitement raced through him at the thought that she would no longer be a maid, “the role of temporary governess would suit you better. With your genteel upbringing, I’m sure there are numerous ways you can educate the children.”
“Governess?” Rose cast him a sidelong glance. “Does that mean I won’t need to clean out the fires?”
“No, I’m happy to freeze if it means making the children happy.”
And you happy, he added silently, though the thought shocked him.
“And what if I wake to find spiders or toads in my bed?”
A pang of shame filled his chest for his inability to control his children. “I … I don’t know why they do that.”
“I do.” Rose’s reply was but a whisper. She cleared her throat. “But I suspect I lack the attributes you require in a governess.”
When comparing Rose to the host of other governesses he’d employed, she only lacked the permanent scowl and the deep furrows between her brows. On the subject of the attributes he required, kissable lips and cornflower-blue eyes were now top of the list.
“Often a governess is a lady of equal status in manners and education but lacking in family wealth.” He focused on keeping an element of desperation from his voice. “Do you not fall into that category, Rose?”
“I was not speaking of manners or education, my lord, but of discipline. It is not in my nature to punish minors. And I don’t believe it does anyone any good in the end.”
Again, Christian recalled Mrs Hibbet’s advice that the children needed respite from the rigid rules and regulations.
“Children must learn that their actions have consequences.” It was a lesson he’d be wise to observe, too. Kissing the new governess would only lead to disaster, regardless of how tempting he found her.
“I agree,” she said, and it took him a moment to realise she wasn’t talking about kissing. “But are we not more inclined to remember the lessons from those we revere.”
As they approached the gates of Everleigh, Christian decided he had a newfound respect for his maid, for his new governess, for the lady who’d breezed into his life mere hours ago.
Good lord. He’d known her for less than a day and yet could not deny the strange sense of a
ttachment. It was all rather baffling.
Rose stopped at the fork in the path. To the right were the stables, to the left, the entrance to the servants’ quarters.
“Thank you, my lord, for coming to my aid at the manor.” She tried to disguise the smile that touched her lips as she bobbed a curtsy.
Christian should have used the opportunity to insist she never go there alone again, but he was suddenly captivated by the dusting of freckles on her nose.
“You should not be outdoors without a bonnet.”
A frown marred her brow. “But I don’t own a bonnet.”
How was that possible for a woman of her previous standing?
“Oh, yes. I recall there was an unfortunate accident on the road and someone stole your luggage.” It was a ridiculous story, though it begged the question what had happened to her possessions?
“Mrs Hibbet thought you might not hire me without references.” Suddenly her countenance grew sombre. It was as though someone had thrown a black veil over her face to dull its brilliance. “In desperate times people often resort to desperate measures.”
Curiosity burned. The sudden need to know everything about Rose proved to be overwhelming. But he sensed her retreat. Whatever terrible things had happened in her life, clearly, she had no desire to speak of the events.
The need to rouse a smile took hold, too.
“As the governess, you would have a private apartment.”
The corners of her lips twitched, and he felt like the richest man alive. “Is that a ploy to encourage me to accept?”
“Perhaps.” He smiled as he struggled to contain the odd sensations filling his chest. “Are you tempted to accept?”
“Not on the basis of the superior accommodation. But if you give me your assurance that I am free to deal with the children as I see fit, you might persuade me.”