by Fimch, Fanny
"His Grace the Duke of Portsmouth wishes to see you now," she said, her voice slow like someone who was bored and tired all at once, exhausted from not doing anything. "Please, follow me."
Agnes was surprised to receive no curtsy, but then remembered her new place. She smiled. "Thank you. What is your name?"
"Marjorie," the maid replied with a slight brightness returning to her eyes. "And you are the new governess, Miss Hubbard."
Agnes nodded. "Please, call me Agnes."
Standing and following Marjorie, Agnes felt slight trepidation.
The duke. She knew he would be an older man. Possibly a recent widower. That would explain the dust. It would also explain why he needed a governess for his child so urgently. Women seemed to be of two mindsets. There were those who would rather have someone professional caring for their children. And there were those who wished to devote their entire lives to their children. It was entirely possible that the duchess had been one of the latter, and some recent change in circumstances meant they required a governess with rare urgency.
Marjorie led her into the drawing room and offered her a seat. "Please, wait for His Grace here. And do stand and curtsy when he enters."
Agnes reminded herself that the girl probably thought they were peers, and simply smiled and nodded. It was simpler than attempting to place herself above others. That was not where she belonged any more. She sat down on the seat offered, feeling uncomfortable about how plain she must look. But at least she was clean and neat. The opposite of the house, really. Which worried her. After all, if her clothes were the opposite of their home, perhaps she would be the opposite of the inhabitants? Perhaps she would be most unwelcome in their household, a stranger on their lands?
Her heart was in her throat as she heard the door creak open. But nobody was announced. She looked up to see someone walking in. He was very well dressed, too much so to be a servant of any kind. But was this the duke?
He was not an old man. He couldn't have been a day over twenty-six. He smiled at her warmly. He must be some sort of friend of the household, or a brother to the girl. Yes, the girl. Agnes looked to his feet where a small face peered out nervously, taking in the stranger who was sitting on their chair. Remembering herself, Agnes stood up and curtsied deeply.
"It is lovely to meet you. I am Miss Hubbard and I shall be the new governess," she said.
"Nice to meet you also, Miss Hubbard," he said nonchalantly. "I hope the house is to your liking?"
Agnes nodded. He was definitely a brother. "I find it beautiful. And you are-"
"I would like you to meet Georgia," the man said, interrupting Agnes and bowing down to pick up the child, who seemed happy to see around better. "She is the girl you shall be caring for. She has suffered a lot of late, and has not had a governess in her entire life. I took you on under the recommendation of Lady Dorset. She may be shy around you - the child, that is - but she will soon warm up to your company."
"How old is she?" Agnes asked, making eye contact with the lovely little toddler.
"She is only four, but she really needs a maternal influence around her. She cannot learn to be a good young lady without it," he said.
"Has she no mother?" Agnes asked.
"Were you not briefed on the situation?" the man asked right back, looking a little alarmed.
Agnes shook her head. "Alas, but if you would be so kind as to explain to-"
"Not a problem," the man said with a vague shrug. "All that you need to know is that this little girl has lost a mother and she needs a new one."
"I see," Agnes remarked. "And please, I must know who you are."
"Did I not say?" he asked in the tone of voice of someone who had forgotten to tell her the time. "I am the Duke of Portsmouth."
"I beg your pardon, sir, but... you are the duke?" she asked, feeling her world turning upside down all of a sudden.
And yet he seemed oblivious to her shock, and was making babbling sounds back at the little girl, who had relaxed and all but forgotten the strange woman's presence.
Agnes dropped into a deep curtsy. "I humbly ask for forgiveness, sir, I did not know that sir was the duke himself!"
"Why not?" he asked with a slight chuckle.
Agnes was not sure if she could stand yet. "I suppose because Your Grace was not announced."
"You should have asked. Stand up," he said. His tone of voice suggested he was not serious, but Agnes, always adherent to etiquette, obeyed.
"I am so sorry, Your Grace," she apologized nervously, curtsying deeply and bowing her head in deference and shame. "It is simply that you look so young to be wed."
"I do not think that I am," he replied, furrowing his brow. "Do you think I am too young to marry? I think twenty-one is a fantastic age for marriage. How old are you?"
Agnes blushed. "Twenty, sir."
"And not a day too old to marry," he said with a smile. "See? I suppose I am not married. But I could be."
Agnes nodded. "How old was Your Grace when he married?" she asked tentatively.
"I never married, I simply mean that I could be," he replied, once again paying more attention to the child than to Agnes.
Agnes felt even more uncomfortable than before. Without a doubt, Georgia was a young girl, of around four. And without a doubt, Agnes was to educate her. And without a doubt, this man was the duke, her employer, and never wed. Of course, the child did not have to be his own. But Agnes was hard-pressed to think of how a young duke would end up with a little girl under his care following her mother's death. Ordinarily a child of that age would be sent to an older female relative, a family with children, or a married couple without children. All signs pointed towards something seriously embarrassing for the duke and his entire family, either way.
But Agnes had been taught not to press into such matters. And, as a lowly governess, it was not her place to judge. A duke may not be entitled to sow his seed like some sort of a beast, but if he did, it should be a peer or a better to criticize him and persuade him to repent, not a governess. And it was possible he had already repented and was moving on. No, she was there for a job, not to tell him how to carry himself.
The duke placed his daughter on the floor and she immediately rushed to a chair, climbing onto it, getting dirty footprints all over the cushions. The duke made no move to correct her, simply watching contentedly.
"Shall I begin teaching her today?" Agnes asked cautiously, stepping aside as the child ran about the room uncontrolled. Georgia narrowly missed Agnes's leg and instead brushed a small table, sending an ornamental vase flying to the ground where it shattered into thousands of tiny shards.
"Teaching?" he asked, looking a little alarmed. "It is far too soon for that! She has never had a governess before, to her you are only a stranger. No, she is not ready."
"Has she not had a tutor of any kind before, sir? Or perhaps a nanny?" Agnes asked cautiously.
He shook his head. "Not at all."
Agnes hesitated. This seemed as though it would be more difficult than she had planned.
"No, no. I simply wish for you both to get to know one another for the first week," he said with a grin. "I am sure you shall get along." With that, he moved to a chair in the corner of the room and sat down. It seemed he was going to stay and oversee the meeting, too.
Agnes was not sure what to make of any of this. It was not what she had been taught to do at the Duchess of Dorset's School for Noble Women. It was not what she had been taught to do by anyone, anywhere, in fact. Children needed routine, strict rules, and frequent discipline and rewards to raise them into respectful, well-mannered adults. And overly active children like Georgia more so. That was what she had always been told.
Agnes was not quite as confident about the likelihood of her getting close to the child as the duke seemed. She was not really one to befriend children, especially not young ones. Even as a child herself, she had not much time for other children. They seemed less like friends and more like hindrances to her
. Perhaps because of how her father had sheltered her and kept her busy, she'd never developed the social skills necessary to bond with other girls her own age.
Now that was not the case, of course. Thanks to her friends and her recent education she now knew how to handle social interactions on a more personal, less formal level, with her peers and with younger people.
But although Agnes was confident in her skills as a governess and perhaps as a mother, she never saw a child as an equal to befriend. She wasn't sure exactly how an adult could be friends with a child. After all, they had so little in common, from their daily activities and concerns, to their interests, to their life purpose.
Especially at Georgia's tender age, when she was barely able to talk, if at all, and most likely could not read or play music or do anything that was much fun at all. How could a person befriend someone who was not only absolutely hopeless, but who was under their care? How could Agnes help Georgia develop into a wonderful, respectable young woman if she could not so much as chastise or instruct her.
Agnes felt gripped with a panic, a fear of the unknown that chewed through her. She was not prepared for this.
But she would have to adapt and learn. After all, it was her job to deliver whatever service the duke demanded of her. Within reason. But was this within reason? Or was it akin to asking a farmer to raise cattle with no land and no fodder?
Georgia climbed slightly up the side of the shelf, hanging on for dear life as she grabbed a book and threw it down. Drawing a breath, Agnes made her way towards the girl and plucked her from her perch, placing her gently back on the ground.
"Hello Georgia, I am Miss Hubbard," she said. "I shall be your new governess."
Georgia did not speak, she simply pulled another book off the shelf and walked up to Agnes, holding it out to her sharply and grunting. Agnes did not need to speak toddler to know what was being asked of her. She took the book and guided the girl to a chair, where they sat down, opening it. The duke watched as Agnes and Georgia sat, Agnes reading to the girl, finger skimming under each letter to guide her eyes.
This was surreal. Nothing like the life she had expected to lead. She had not even imagined a reality where she might become a governess. But it could work. It would work. After all, it had to.
Do you want to read more?
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Also by Fanny Finch
Book 1: Saving Lady Abigail
Book 2: Engaging Love
Book 3: A Forthright Courtship
Book 4: A Love Worth Saving
Book 5: Love Letters to A Lady
Book 6: The Duke’s Cautious Governess