A Most Unusual Lady

by Janet Grace

  He smiled provocatively at Georgiana, who chuckled and tossed her head.

  ‘You make me sound about eighty, doddering on my last legs. Louisa and I walk for miles with the children, quite unaided, thank you.’ She slid him her sideways smile and skipped over to Louisa, taking her arm. ‘Come on, my doddering friend. Let’s show these men how we manage to totter and stagger through the woods!’

  ‘Ha! We are spurned, Robert. But they are not the only young ladies in the party. Miss Addiscombe, Miss Jane, will you take my arms and assist me in creating jealousy in maidenly hearts? May I escort you?’

  Laughing at Georgiana, John took the hands of the flattered girls, and had very soon encouraged them into telling him of all their studies, groaning with them over tedious music practices, assuring them that Miss Stapely must be most unreasonable to desire neat stitching, and a veritable dragon to insist on the necessity of arithmetic.

  ‘But you should hear of the governess I had!’ His voice dropped to tones of thrilling horror, and the girls exchanged wide-eyed glances. ‘Her name was...’ he paused dramatically ‘... Miss Thumbscrew!’

  His increasingly outrageous stories of the nefarious activities of the ghoulish Miss Thumbscrew kept the nursery group aghast with half-believing awe, or aching with laughter. Georgiana drifted over to walk with them, reassuringly holding Geoffrey’s hand. Louisa, of necessity, walked beside Lord Alnstrop. Occasionally their eyes met over one of John’s absurdities, and his lordship appeared serene, as if he felt they walked in a most companionable silence. But Louisa’s thoughts were a tumultuous discomfort to her, and her memories were all of their last disastrous exchange of words. She felt ill at ease, and very vulnerable.

  ‘Such discipline as you have over these children will be entirely undermined by John’s stories!’ Alnstrop spoke lightly, half his attention on his brother’s nonsense, and did not notice Louisa’s frown. ‘They will become quite unmanageable.’

  ‘Oh, really? You are very quick to assume that I am not capable of undertaking the employment I have chosen.’ Her words emerged with such bitterness that she surprised herself, and they stopped Robert where he stood. ‘But that is what you want to believe, of course. As I have so wilfully taken on this “unthinkable” employment, no doubt you would feel your opinions vindicated if you could watch me fail. But I can assure you it would take more than your brother’s foolish talk to undermine what I have established here with the children.’

  She drew breath, quivering. Robert began to speak, ‘Please, Miss Stapely...’ but she swept on, aware that her emotions had overcome her prudence once again, forcing her to pour out these angry, brooded-over thoughts.

  ‘You were so ready, so quick, to sneer at the skills those governesses were advertising in your paper, skills they had doubtless worked long hours to acquire. But just as you undoubtedly take a pride in managing your estates well, and expect your competence to be taken seriously, so I take a pride in my skills and a pride in my achievements. I would like my competence to be taken seriously.’

  She paused and gave a half-shamefaced shrug, aware she sounded pompous, but Alnstrop’s well-intentioned beginning, ‘But, my dear girl...’ instantly provoked her.

  ‘Oh, you sound so condescending!’

  She flung away from him, fists clenched, furious to find there were tears in her eyes. She would not allow him the satisfaction of seeing her reach for her handkerchief, so she sniffed once, then stared rigidly into the distance, where the rest of the party had vanished between the trees.

  Had she but known, Robert found that one defiant sniff more endearing than any number of tears. He studied the small, determined figure, then moved to stand beside her.

  ‘Miss Stapely, I am sorry. I had no intention of insulting you or your work. I have no doubts at all that whatever you undertake to do you perform admirably, and I am learning increasingly to respect your determination and purpose. Have no doubt, I wish to take everything you do seriously.’

  Louisa breathed deeply two or three times, clenched and unclenched her fists, and forced herself to turn and face him. At his measured politeness the bravery of her rage drained from her, and she found herself once again ashamed, and drearily addressing his shirt collar.

  ‘No, don’t apologise. I have been wretchedly rude to you again. You had said nothing to merit such an outburst. It is I who must apologise.’ She dropped her gaze, miserable, and began to walk on down the track. ‘I shall quite understand if you prefer to turn back. I can quickly rejoin my employer’s family now, the way is straightforward. There is no need whatever to accompany me.’

  A small sniff ended this remark.

  ‘Miss Stapely!’

  She stopped, but did not look back.

  ‘I may have sympathy with your anger, and respect your determination,’ his voice was exasperated, ‘but for heaven’s sake, spare me the dose of “saintly servant” humility.’

  She spun round and glared at him.

  ‘Thank you. That is much better.’ He moved to walk beside her. ‘I would be honoured if you would agree to continue our walk together, and perhaps you could tell me more of the work you do. It obviously means a great deal to you.’

  She continued to glower at him, searching his face for signs of mockery or contempt, but his expression showed no more than polite interest. She felt churlish, and walked some way in silence, the distant shouts of the children the only sound to disturb the sun-drenched woods.

  ‘I could return the compliment and tell you something of what I do,’ he suggested diffidently, then began to chuckle at a memory. ‘I could tell you a great deal about the production and uses of mangel-wurzels! John found my dissertation on the subject so enlivening that he was driven in despair to flee the family home and take refuge in the local alehouse, where the cock-fighting was more to his taste. He tried to convince me he was really undertaking a serious study of local poultry!’

  She managed a smile, and he continued, prompting gently, ‘They seem pleasant children. Do they enjoy their lessons, and appreciate the efforts you make on their behalf?’

  His interest sounded genuine, and she made an attempt at a light response.

  ‘Well ... I would be lying if I did not admit that there are days when I could cheerfully clash their heads together and run screaming from the house! But that is not often. On the whole I truly enjoy the work we do and, perhaps because of that, I believe they do too. I expect you think that odd...?’

  He shook his head, murmured, ‘Not at all,’ and looked to her to continue.

  ‘It is the nature study, Mr. Addiscombe’s great enthusiasm, that has brought us most pleasure in the schoolroom.’

  Forgetting to sound defiant before his quiet interest, she went on to describe her first interview with her eccentric employer, and made him laugh outright as she described Mr. Addiscombe’s hotchpotch, second-hand collection of specimens, and Mrs. Rudge’s acerbic comments about kitchen cockroaches.

  ‘So we study natural history.’ She was talking easily now, her face animated. ‘The girls are producing sketchbooks of wild flowers, and the schoolroom frequently resembles a jungle as they bring in the “posies” they pick to copy from! The boys solemnly draw the developing frogspawn, producing notebooks full of curious black blobs, all beautifully dated and labelled, of course! Poor Annie—she is our nurserymaid, and a constant help to me—lives in fear and dread of the day the tadpoles have grown sufficient leg to take off into the wide world, and come hopping merrily out into her nursery! It is them or her, she assures me, the nursery is not big enough for them both.’ She laughed. ‘As I could not possibly manage without Annie, I keep a close eye on the frogs!’

  Robert chuckled, envisaging her poring over her amphibious charges.

  ‘I trust you have no other livestock to upset the long-suffering Annie?’

  ‘Well, then, you would trust quite wrong, sir, for we have an entire miniature menagerie along the back wall of the room. We have a large piece of dead branch
on a tray—that houses a charming family of woodlice, and some quite enormous grubs that Clifton discovered, that I believe will turn into stag-beetles, although I am not entirely certain.’ She frowned. ‘Perhaps you would know? Anyway, we can consider it a scientific experiment, waiting to see what will emerge! Then there is the ant colony—they are always escaping—and a large jar full of the greediest green and black caterpillars, who devour any amount of cabbage leaf. There are assorted other boxes of centipedes and beetles; oh—and the boys’ favourite, a box containing an enormous spider. They collect flies to feed it, and take great delight in...’

  She caught his eye and her lively flow ceased, for his shoulders were shaking with suppressed laughter.

  ‘No! No!’ He shook his head, and held up an appeasing hand. ‘Please, don’t be angry again. I could not help but envisage poor Annie’s face as this procession of beasties passed through her nursery!’

  A reluctant grin spread across Louisa’s face, and she began to laugh with him.

  ‘It certainly could not be said that Annie is enthralled by the study of natural history; but she will tolerate any of these, provided we do not bring back the water-beetle larva.’

  ‘The water-beetle larva?’ His voice was incredulous, and he was laughing openly as she affected a serious ‘school-marm’ air.

  ‘It was a most interesting specimen that Geoffrey found in his colander—’

  ‘Colander?’

  ‘Colander. We use them as fish-nets in the stream. It was a ferocious-looking creature, well over an inch long, with fearsome pincers. We housed it in a most commodious china bowl—tastefully decorated with little pink rose-buds; it was the spare wash-bowl from the girls’ bedroom—and fed it on chunks of raw steak, which it devoured with relish, but it would not stay settled. Clifton maintains that it was offended at being housed in pink rose-buds! Be that as it may, three mornings in succession poor Annie was greeted by this miniature monster marching ferociously around the nursery floor, snapping its pincers at her. Her screams would bring me running from my bed to entrap the wretched creature, and now it has been reluctantly deposited back in the stream!’

  ‘Oh, my dear girl!’ He took her arm again, still laughing, and this time she heard nothing condescending in his tone. ‘You are a most unusual lady. How I wish I had seen it all!’

  They had caught up with the others, now, at the gate into the Addiscombes’ garden, and walked up towards the house together.

  As the children ran to tell her of John’s stories, Alnstrop moved away to speak with his brother and Georgiana. She listened with half an ear to the children’s chatter, and watched him. She had certainly allowed her foolish temper to betray her again. Why had she done it? Wretched man, that he could so upset and provoke her! And then he had led her, by that quiet, understanding look, to lay bare all her childish enthusiasm for her work. Should she be pleased? Had he truly been laughing with her, or only at her? She could not trust herself to be sure.

  He was turning back towards her.

  ‘Miss Stapely, I would be most interested to see your schoolroom, after all you have told me. May I?’

  Unsure, half suspecting mockery, she paused to make polite excuses, but John, arriving in time to hear the request, had no doubts.

  ‘Of course we’ll go up. Lead the way, young Clifton. Maybe Miss Thumbscrew is awaiting you in your schools room!’

  Leaving the exhausted dogs in the care of one of the stable-lads, the whole noisy party thudded up the bareback stairs to startle Annie, who was mending quietly in the nursery.

  ‘We are showing Lord Alnstrop the tadpoles,’ Clifton announced proudly to her astounded, upturned face, and the others entered to find her struggling to her feet, scattering cards of thread.

  Lord Alnstrop and his brother showed a suitably lively interest in the proudly displayed natural history collection. Louisa sat quietly by her desk and let them talk.

  The turn of events that had brought the man she had been so determinedly forbidding to her dreams here into her schoolroom sanctuary seemed too extraordinary to be true—almost as disorientating as her awakening on board the Gannet. It could not be happening. In the turmoil of her thoughts, she was panicked by the speed with which her emotions had betrayed her. He had but once more to walk into her life and, despite her doubts and anger, her heart was telling her that she belonged with him forever. She tried to despise her errant feelings. She doused them with reason. He had only walked with her when it became a social necessity. He had shown a keen and appreciative interest in Georgiana. He had warned her they would only be friends.

  His interest in her work was mere politeness. He was only whiling away a few tedious weeks when he was forced to be at Stoneham. He would not bother her unduly. She was merely the governess, and had insisted to him how much she valued her independence. Her reason told her all these things. But she could hear his voice, quietly admiring the girls’ drawings, see the muscles across his shoulder move as he turned a page, and how the dark, cropped hair curled close on the nape of his neck, and she knew reason had no part to play in this.

  As if he knew her thoughts, he came over to her, and she felt her blush run over her face, but when he spoke his voice was matter-of-fact.

  ‘I have a microscope at Alnstrop. If you wish, I will send for it. The children show an intelligent interest which is a great tribute to your teaching. I have no doubt they would learn something from its use. When we acquired it at home we found it fascinating, but it has been packed away for some time now. Would you like it? You would not find it difficult to use.’

  Despite herself, Louisa’s interest was caught.

  ‘Oh, thank you. I have never looked through one. Mr. Fairweather, our vicar at home, always talked of buying one, but somehow the money he put aside for it always found a worthier cause before it was purchased. I know Mr. Addiscombe does not possess one. I would love to use a microscope. I would be most grateful if you felt you could entrust it to us.’

  He smiled at her enthusiasm.

  ‘My most unusual lady—it would be a great pleasure,’ he said. ‘And now I am afraid we must depart.’ He turned to Georgiana and spoke earnestly. ‘Miss Lyntrell, please convey our apologies to your mother. We would pay our respects, but we are in no state to grace her living-room today. Perhaps we could call upon her tomorrow morning instead, if you think that would be convenient? We have no other commitments, have we, John?’

  ‘Oh, absolutely not!’ John replied, with utter conviction. ‘And any we might have had are instantly forgotten. We specialise in poor memories, don’t we, Miss Stapely? Especially of anything a bit fishy!’

  He flashed her an impudent grin, and she shook her head reprovingly.

  ‘What do you mean?’ Georgiana was instantly intrigued, but Alnstrop stepped smoothly in to divert her queries, and flash a warning frown at John.

  ‘A foolish tease he had with his sister Henrietta while Miss Stapely was staying, nothing more. May we call tomorrow?’

  ‘Yes, of course, I will tell Mama. I know she will be pleased. I will show you down.’

  They made their farewells, then, smiling enchantingly at them both, Georgiana led the way out. Louisa still sat at her table. The room seemed suddenly much smaller. She idly stroked the table-top where his hand had rested. All the reasons she had found impossible to believe while he stood before her now slithered round her mind with hideous plausibility. The words she had shouted at him that dreadful evening echoed in her ears. ‘I value finding my independence, and I have no intention of giving up all I have planned for now.’ He would believe her. She had made her own choice.

  The children seemed to be much noisier than usual. Louisa found that she had developed another bad headache. She had never previously been prone to headaches. She rested her head in her hands.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  That evening after dinner Mrs. Addiscombe subjected their walk to close examination. Louisa, having admitted to her headache and taken the Dr. James’
powder pressed upon her, was allowed to sit quietly holding a book. Georgiana, however, talked with an infectious enthusiasm, her face betraying all her emotions. She spoke of John Ferdinand, of his appearance, of all the things he had said that had made her laugh, of repairs he was making on his estates, and the plans he had to extend his house, perhaps with French windows and a veranda!

  Louisa listened, the pages of her book unturned, and found to her overwhelming relief that Georgiana had hardly noticed the older brother at all! It was all John. Louisa’s fears had been groundless.

  When Mrs. Addiscombe mentioned that Mr. Blane had called while they were out, and had been with her almost an hour, Georgiana grimaced.

  ‘I wish he would not call so frequently, Mama. I cannot like him.’

  ‘That is not what you used to say, my dear. For myself, I find him most agreeable.’

  But, for the main part, Mrs. Addiscombe listened while her daughter talked, and she nodded, impressed by her daughter’s new friendship.

  The tea-tray was ordered. Louisa was just wondering whether to use her headache as an excuse to retire to her room before it arrived when she was forestalled by the door swinging open. Mrs. Addiscombe waved a languid arm at the little table set between herself and her daughter, then glanced again in astonishment and some alarm. It was not the expected silver tray. Mr. Addiscombe was ponderously closing the door.

  His visitation was so unusual as to leave all three ladies aghast and speechless. Since her arrival at the Grange, Louisa had been amazed but relieved at how little anyone saw of the master of the house. He did attend dinner with the ladies each night, and Louisa was always expected to eat with the family, so could not escape this ordeal. At meals he was brusque and dictatorial. A favourite topic of his conversation each night was to rudely criticise his wife’s carefully planned menu, giving ‘scientific’ reasons why certain combinations of foods should never be served. Only a fool would consider this, he would state, waving an impatient hand over the dishes and glaring at his lady wife, when the certain results would be flatulence or stomach cramps, dizziness or headaches, gout, or even malignant tumours, depending on his theory of the day. Mrs. Addiscombe would nod anxiously while he ranted, apologise, and make a note to remember. She never did remember, but it would have made no difference. He would find something to complain of whatever was served.