by Syrie James
“Where is Saunders?” Longford asked, glancing around.
“Sorry, old chap,” Lord Trevelyan replied. “Charles left for London yesterday. Or was it Truro? You know how he is, itchy feet, always dashing off somewhere, not content to remain at home for more than a week or two at a time.”
“You will find the rest of the family in the garden, however, along with the other guests,” Lady Trevelyan remarked. “I do hope you enjoy yourselves.”
Longford bowed, while Alexandra and the girls curtsied their thanks.
They were quickly ushered outside. A wide green lawn wound down past formal gardens, overlooking low cliffs with a superb view of a dark rocky cove and beyond that, the sparkling blue sea. Alexandra inhaled, relishing the tang of salt in the crisp air and the sight and sounds of distant swooping seagulls. Several long tables were set up for a meal to be served later in the afternoon. Well-dressed people strolled the grounds, chatting, while children of various ages played lawn games.
It was a lovely scene, evoking memories of similar parties Alexandra had attended over the years with her family. She was beginning to think this might prove to be a pleasant afternoon after all, when Longford directed, “It looks like the children’s table is over there.” He indicated a table a little distance away from the main activity, where a handful of women in drab dresses and nanny uniforms were pushing infants in perambulators or supervising young children. Alexandra understood this was where she was meant to position herself.
“I see, thank you.”
A red-haired gentleman who looked to be Longford’s age strode up to him with a hearty greeting.
“Wexham! It has been an age.” Longford glanced at his sisters. “Behave yourselves, girls. Whatever Miss Watson says, goes.”
The girls nodded their promise. The two men walked off, conversing. Lillie spotted her friend Anna, and gaining Alexandra’s permission, ran off to greet her. “Stay in sight,” Alexandra called out.
“Oh no,” Julia said suddenly, under her breath.
Alexandra followed the direction of Julia’s gaze. A congenial-looking youth with brown wavy hair was engaged in a game of lawn bowling. “Is that James Grayson?” she whispered.
Julia nodded, her cheeks crimson.
“Remember what we discussed. You don’t need his attention or approval, or that of any young man. Just be yourself, find your friend, and have a good time.”
Julia pressed her lips together with determination. “I will.”
At that moment, another young lady strode up, attired in a stylish gown of deep rose sprigged muslin, her soft brown ringlets perfectly arranged beneath her matching bonnet. “Julia,” she murmured solemnly. “I thought you would never come.”
After the girls exchanged embraces, Julia turned to Alexandra. “Allow me to introduce my friend, Lady Helen Grayson. Helen, this is my governess, Miss Watson.”
“It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance,” Alexandra said with a smile.
Helen merely nodded with quiet dignity, her intelligent eyes briefly assessing Alexandra, before glancing at her feet.
After gaining Alexandra’s permission to stroll through the formal gardens and return in an hour, Julia dashed off happily with her friend. Alexandra stood still for a moment, taking in the scene.
At nearly all the parties and balls she’d attended over the years, other than the weeks of the London Season, she’d been in the warm and welcome company of her sisters. As heiresses, they’d been feted and sought out by many of the men at the affair. It felt strange to be so alone, in a sea of people where no one even gave her a second look. She felt unnecessary, unwanted, invisible.
Well, she reminded herself, this is who she was now. And it wasn’t forever.
The reminder that her time in Cornwall would eventually end gave Alexandra a sharp, unexpected pang. So much had happened, it was hard to believe she’d only been here a little over three weeks. She’d never imagined that she’d be a governess in England or anywhere else, but she had to admit, there were many aspects of the occupation she enjoyed. When it came time to leave, she realized with surprise, she would miss the feeling of usefulness she’d discovered as a teacher, the daily interaction with her pupils, the satisfaction of imparting knowledge, of a job well done. She would dearly miss the girls themselves. Not just the girls. She would miss . . .
Alexandra drew a mental curtain over any further thoughts in that vein. In about two months, she’d have the money she needed to sail home. Back to her own family. Back to Vassar College. Where she belonged.
Although she longed to wander down to the beach, Alexandra felt that would be irresponsible. She was here to watch over the girls, and needed to remain where they could find her. Instead, she made her way to the area Longford had pointed out.
Amidst the group of nannies and governesses, a plump woman in a gray gown was seated on a chair not far from the children’s table. She looked to be in her mid-forties, had a pinched face, and appeared content to watch the proceedings with no immediate responsibilities.
Alexandra took possession of the chair beside the woman and extended her hand. “Hello. I’m Lexie Watson.”
“Harriet Berry,” the woman responded in a clipped tone, surprised by Alexandra’s proffered hand, but shaking it nonetheless. “I’m Lord and Lady Trevelyan’s governess. You must be the new American governess at Polperran House?”
“I am.”
“You’ve come a long way to watch other people’s children.”
The abrupt statement took Alexandra off guard. The less she offered on that score, the better. “I suppose I have.”
“How are you getting along?”
“Okay, I think.”
“From what I heard, those girls are a handful, with new governesses coming and going.”
“Actually, they are lovely young ladies. I think they just needed someone who understands them.”
“Is that so? I hope for your sake that’s true. Our jobs are hard and lonely enough, without our charges plaguing the life out of us every day.”
Alexandra glanced at her. “Are Helen and Anna difficult?”
“Not at all, they’re very well behaved. I have it easy here, and on occasions such as this, practically nothing to do. But my previous positions were not so amiable. Let us not dwell, however, on the inequities of life. It’s a party, and we have the ideal vantage point from which to view the proceedings. I don’t suppose you know anyone?”
“No.”
“Allow me to give you a running commentary.”
Miss Berry pointed out a fine-looking man in clerical garb. “That’s Mr. Curtis, the new vicar of Trevelyan, and a nicer young man you couldn’t hope to meet. Word has it that he’s looking for a wife, but three trips to Bath have so far not proven fruitful. And that,” she added, indicating an attractive, dark-haired fellow in a tweed suit, who looked to be about thirty years of age, “is Dr. Hancock, the new physician in this part of the county. Lady Trevelyan is so taken with him, she won’t have any other doctor treat herself or the children.”
Miss Berry filled the next half hour by pointing out a great many of the people assembled around them, both male and female, giving Alexandra their names, places of residence, occupations if any, and the recent gossip she’d heard about them. They were mainly members of the gentry class, and although Alexandra found it impossible to retain all the information provided, it was an enjoyable way to pass the time.
A bevy of servants began bringing out the afternoon meal, laying the tables with platters of ham, cold chicken, cheese, bread, salads, bowls of strawberries, and an assortment of pies, tarts, and cakes.
As Alexandra observed this activity, she became aware of three women who stood nearby, conversing. One of them was a heavyset woman with a bulldog face, who might have been about fifty. She wore an extravagant white gown, an enormous plumed hat, and an expression of extreme haughtiness. This, Miss Berry had earlier explained, was Mrs. Gordon. Her husband was among the wealthiest
landowners in the county. Beside her were her two daughters: young ladies splendidly dressed in summer gowns with matching bonnets and parasols.
“Look at all the nannies,” commented the first young lady with a sneer. “Can you imagine being obliged to care for a crying infant at a party?”
“Why people insist on bringing children and their servants to these affairs is beyond me,” declared Mrs. Gordon with a sniff. “They are far better left at home, where they belong.”
“Those two must be governesses,” observed the second young lady. “They look so dried up and poor. I thank God we are old enough now to be free of such creatures.”
Alexandra felt her blood rise at these comments. Miss Berry had overhead it, too, for her face went ashen.
“Do you remember the tricks we played on our governesses?” The first young lady tittered. “When we put boot polish inside Mrs. Landers’s black hat? And castor oil in Miss Ray’s tea?”
“Or the time we found Miss Dickerson’s private diary, stayed up all night reading it, and then threw it in the lake?” replied her sister. They both laughed.
“I never had so much trouble in my life,” insisted Mrs. Gordon, “as I did searching for a suitable governess. They are a troublesome race. I sometimes think it a wonder that you girls received any education at all.”
Alexandra could take no more. She rose, strode directly up to the three women, and said, “It is indeed a wonder, madam, that your daughters received any education, if you all treated their governesses in such a callous and unfeeling manner.”
The matriarch gasped her outrage. “I beg your pardon?”
“Did you ever stop to think,” Alexandra went on heatedly, “how lucky you were, to employ a governess to teach your children?” To the young ladies, she added: “Or how fortunate you both were, to have been taught at home by a woman whose sole job was to attend to your daily needs, who did her best to nurture and care for you, while coordinating your studies? There’s a good reason why your mother never sent you to school, with thirty or more children in a classroom governed by a single teacher! How do you think you would have fared in that environment?”
The young ladies were affronted. “How dare you speak to us like this?” cried the first.
“I dare because you need to hear it!” Alexandra responded vehemently. “You complain that governesses are poor and a troublesome race. Yes: many are poor, but they are the educated daughters of the clergy and the gentry class—your own race, as you call it—who through some misfortune not of their own making, require a home and a means of support. How can you despise them? Have you no heart at all? One tiny twist of fate might have put you in their shoes.”
“I will not stand here and be thus insulted,” cried Mrs. Gordon. “Girls: let us go.”
“If you would treat your governesses as human beings,” Alexandra threw at the three ladies as they stalked off, “you might discover that they are interesting people in their own right!”
Alexandra’s pulse pounded as she stared at the backs of the retreating ladies. She couldn’t remember when she had ever felt so angry. She was glad she’d said what she did, even though it hadn’t seemed to make any impression at all.
She suddenly became aware that it had grown quiet around her. Miss Berry was staring at her hands. Alexandra realized that a great many people were staring at her, including Julia, Lillie, and their friends. Dear God. Had all these people been listening?
That’s when Alexandra caught sight of Lord Longford, standing nearby. From his expression, it appeared that he had heard every word.
Chapter Twenty-One
“I still cannot believe you said all that to Mrs. Gordon!” Julia cried, seated across from Alexandra in the carriage as they made their way home. Julia was biting her lip to keep from laughing.
“I shouldn’t have.” Alexandra blushed anew at the reminder of what she’d done.
After her rant, she’d kept her head down and remained in the children’s area, speaking to no one other than Julia, Lillie, and Miss Berry, who’d quietly congratulated her for voicing aloud what she’d never had the nerve to say. Alexandra wasn’t sure, however, that having the nerve had been a good thing, since Lord Longford had not approached her the rest of the day.
“I’m glad you did!” Lillie gushed. “You are so brave.”
“I have never liked Mrs. Gordon or her daughters,” Julia admitted. “They are like stuffed pigs.”
“Stuffed pigs with parasols,” Lillie agreed.
Despite her worries, Alexandra had to laugh at this description. For a moment, general merriment rang inside the carriage. “It isn’t funny,” Alexandra finally insisted, wiping tears of mirth from her eyes. “Your brother could dismiss me for speaking out like that.”
“He would not dare,” Julia said. “And if he does, I will insist that you stay.”
“So will I,” Lillie promised.
After they returned to the house, the girls raced upstairs. Lord Longford stopped Alexandra in the hallway as she was heading for the servants’ staircase.
“Miss Watson.” His expression was unreadable. “Might I have a word?”
Alexandra’s blood froze. Did he intend to let her go? She dropped a curtsy. “Certainly, Your Lordship.”
“I overheard what you said to Mrs. Gorgon today.”
She hesitated. “I believe her name is Gordon, my lord, not gorgon.”
“I think my term more appropriate.” His lips now twitched, and a hint of humor glimmered in his eyes.
Alexandra’s spirits lifted as she waited for him to go on.
“I have some history with Mrs. Gordon. We attended a gathering at their house when I was a boy, where Saunders and I climbed one of their apples trees and enjoyed some of its fruit. Her daughters caught us in the act and told their mother, who expressed her displeasure by forbidding us from having ice cream when it was later served. I have never quite forgiven them.”
A laugh escaped Alexandra’s lips, then she covered her mouth with regret. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have laughed. That’s a terrible punishment for a boy.”
“It is quite all right. Although I was devastated at the time, I can laugh about it now, because someone—you—finally put that horrid woman and her daughters in their place.” He looked at her directly. “What you said may be hard for people like Mrs. Gordon and myself to hear, but every word was true.”
“And here I was afraid you were going to let me go.”
“It would take a far greater offense than that, Miss Watson,” he said, smiling, “for me to let you go.”
The following afternoon, while Longford and Julia were out riding, Lillie asked Alexandra, “Would you like to see my secret hideaway?”
Although Lillie had kept her promise to spend her time under the eye of her governess over the past weeks, and seemed quite happy to do so, Alexandra still wondered where the girl used to disappear to. “If you’d like to show it to me.”
Lillie led the way up the stairs to the attics, this time to an area Alexandra had never seen, at the far end of a distant wing. There, in a musty corner surrounded by grimy windows, a collection of boxes, old furniture, ancient rugs, and other discarded belongings had been arranged to resemble a cozy sort of room. Old toys were neatly arranged on a set of shelves, and various dolls sat or reclined on makeshift chairs and beds.
“Did you set all this up yourself?”
Lillie nodded. “It is my house.”
A house, Alexandra thought, where the little girl could escape and feel that she belonged, where no one would judge her for being different. “It’s lovely,” Alexandra said, tears studding her eyes.
“I used to come here every day.” Lille glanced around at the haven she’d built, then gave a little shrug. “But I don’t really need it now.”
Alexandra drew Lillie into her arms and hugged her tightly. “I’m glad, Lillie. I’m so glad.”
Since the day Alexandra had spied Longford painting in the room down the hall, she
’d been intensely curious to know what he had been working on. She didn’t venture there, however, hoping that when he was ready, he would show the results of his efforts.
One morning, she stopped in his study to ask him a question, but he wasn’t there. Turning to leave, she noticed a new painting hanging on the wall above the fireplace. It was the Italian landscape she’d seen in the attic and had so admired. How lovely, she thought, that he’d finally hung it up where he could see it and enjoy it.
There was something different about the painting, though. She realized that he’d added a small figure to it. Beneath the jasmine bower, on the stone bench that had formerly been empty, sat a young woman in a blue gown and hat. Alexandra gave the painting an even closer inspection and inhaled in surprise. The resemblance was unmistakable. The figure in the painting was her.
Her heart flipped over. Longford had painted her into that beautiful landscape. What an honor! But then an inner voice piped up: Don’t flatter yourself. So, he added a figure to the painting. It could have been anyone.
Even so, as she left the room, she couldn’t suppress a smile.
The ensuing ten days were among the happiest of Alexandra’s life.
Longford spent a part of each day with her and the girls, either riding with Julia, walking with them all in the gardens, or giving sketching lessons both inside and out of doors, where he taught some tricks for creating depth and perspective with charcoal and pencils.
At Alexandra’s suggestion, the girls rehearsed and gave a piano recital for Longford and the house servants, which was well received, particularly by Mr. Hutchens, who avowed a deep interest in music.
Lillie was now behaving like a proper young lady, and so the servants were beginning to treat her with more kindness and respect. As the days went by, Alexandra noticed, too, that Mr. Hutchens seemed to have let go of his former reserve toward her, and accepted her as a valued fixture at Polperran House.