He hadn’t done such a wonderful job of protecting his own child, he thought, another wave of anger rolling through him. But this was England, not a hot, exotic land full of poisonous plants, reptiles and dangerous diseases that could snuff out a child’s life between sunset and midnight. Though he’d sworn he’d never take responsibility for a child again, surely he could tolerate watching over them until he could turn them over to a suitable female.
At last, Mrs Wallace’s tall, austere figure appeared at the door. After rapping, she walked over to peer down at where he still knelt beside the children—whom she swept with a disapproving glance.
‘Mansfield said you wanted me, Colonel?’
Rising, Hugh bit back a sharp reply. No point taking his aggravation out on the housekeeper, even though he knew Mansfield would have already told her about the Allens and what had transpired in the library. Hugh had no doubt she knew full well what he wanted.
‘Mrs Wallace, may I present Elizabeth and Sophie Glendenning, my late cousin’s daughters. They are to be staying with us at Somers Abbey for a time. They’ve had a long journey and, I’m sure, could do with some bread and soup before they go up to bed. Take them to the kitchen, please, and see to them.’
The housekeeper’s gaze swept from the huddled children back to Hugh. ‘I don’t deal with children, Colonel.’
The last of his patience unravelling, Hugh snapped, ‘Well, you’re going to have to, at least until I can hire a governess. See them fed and settled in, at once!’
‘Very well.’ Glowering, the housekeeper curtsied to him. ‘Come along, children.’
Though Hugh didn’t much like turning the girls over to a cold stick like Mrs Wallace, his skeleton-staffed bachelor household didn’t offer many alternatives.
He’d write to a hiring agency at once. Fortunately, Robert had left ample funds for his children’s care, so Hugh could demand their most superior candidate and pay extra to have her travel by private coach, so she might arrive at Somers Abbey with all possible speed.
It was the best he could do, under the circumstances. Stalking back to his desk, he flung himself into the chair, noting grimly that his hands were trembling. Doubtless from the shock of having a raw wound ripped open. Drawing in a shaky breath, he took out the bottle of Scotch and poured himself a full glass.
Chapter Three
Slightly more than a week later, as the evening shadows blurred the view from her coach window, Olivia craned her neck to catch a glimpse of her new employer’s residence. ‘Somers Abbey’, she’d read on the note of introduction the agency had given her—and the pile of grey stone she could just perceive in the hazy distance certainly looked the part of a medieval manor wrenched from the grip of a religious community by a greedy monarch.
She had to shiver, just looking at it. Not a very welcoming appearance. Perhaps the two orphaned girls she had been sent to care for found it a place of wonders, with priest’s holes to hide in and long, rambling corridors to run through.
She’d never been around children much. Stirring uneasily, she hoped they would get along.
As the carriage drew to a halt, she tried to subdue the nervous foreboding in the pit of her belly. She was no shrinking young miss, but a well-educated, intelligent, competent young woman who had managed her mother’s household for years. She could handle a nursery and two little girls.
Besides, she had insisted the employment contract run for only six months. She could bear anything for six months. Although she would then return to London, as she’d promised Sara again when they exchanged their final tearful goodbyes, she didn’t expect anything would happen to change her circumstances. She would still be on her own, forced to find a new position to earn her bread.
And earning about as much as, in her former life, she would have spent on a ball gown without thinking twice about it.
But reflecting on that would do no more good than giving in to her distress over leaving her home and the last close friend she had in the world. There was no possibility of going back; she could only move forward.
The hired carriage halted before the entrance. Marshalling all her resolve, she descended from the vehicle.
Her knock was answered by an elderly butler, whose livery looked as shabby as the worn carpet in the entry hall. ‘Miss Overton, I presume?’
‘Yes. Would you announce me to the Colonel? I should like to present my credentials before he takes me to meet the children.’
‘This way, Miss Overton. I’ll have your trunk conveyed to your room.’
Wondering where she would be received—probably in an office or study, not in the parlour reserved for guests, certainly—she followed the man down the hallway and into what looked to be an older section of the house, all stone walls and dark wood panelling.
He stopped before an ancient, solid oak door. After struggling to open it, he intoned, ‘Miss Overton, Colonel.’
Ruthlessly quelling her nervousness, Olivia walked in to meet her new employer, who rose as she entered.
Encouraged by that gesture of respect—as he was receiving a mere employee, not a lady of the ton, he might well have retained his seat—she looked up at him squarely.
Tall and ash blond, with a rigidly upright bearing that proclaimed his military background, the Colonel cut an impressive figure—and was much younger than she’d expected. Having learned her employer had served his military career in India, she assumed he’d returned to England to retire. Though weariness lined his sunburned face, the man before her was in his middle thirties, at most.
Belatedly realising that she had been staring, Olivia pulled herself together. ‘Good evening, Colonel,’ she said, dropping him a curtsy.
‘Miss Overton,’ he acknowledged her with an incline of his head. ‘Won’t you take a seat? That will be all, Mansfield.’
Initially taken aback, she squelched the reaction, reminding herself she had been ushered into this man’s presence merely to have her credentials examined and be given whatever instruction he deemed necessary prior to taking up her work. She shouldn’t expect to be entertained or offered refreshment.
Yet the stark contrast with the warm hospitality she’d been offered upon her arrival at every other stately house she’d ever visited brought her close to tears.
You will accustom yourself. You must. And you’re not going to turn weak and faint-hearted at the very first hurdle.
Willing herself to calm, she walked over and handed him the documents the hiring agency had made up for her, then took the chair he indicated in front of his desk. ‘These should confirm what the agency already informed you about my background.’
Scanning the papers, he nodded. ‘Yes, I see that you were well educated at a private ladies’ academy. You are capable of teaching English, literature, mathematics, geography, French, Italian, music and proper deportment? I see also that you have excellent references from several titled ladies.’
Who were once my mentors and friends.
‘Yes.’
He nodded. ‘That sounds suitable, though I can’t claim to know anything about what young ladies should be taught. How much did the agency tell you about your charges’ circumstances?’
‘Just their ages, the fact that they had recently been orphaned and that their new guardian, a military gentleman who served in India, had requested a superior candidate be sent to Somers Abbey with utmost dispatch.’
The Colonel sighed. ‘The reality is slightly more complicated. About six months ago, my cousin, who owns—owned—an estate at St Kitts in the Caribbean, wrote asking that I act as guardian to his daughters. My cousin being a young man, I had no expectation of actually having to take up that charge. Even after learning of his unexpected death, I assumed I would be required to do nothing more than manage their inheritance. Instead, with neither my knowledge nor my consent, my cousin’s second wife sent the girls to England. They arriv
ed here unannounced about a week ago.’
Olivia stared. ‘You had no idea they were coming?’
‘None, else I would have made other arrangements. I fear, in its present condition, Somers Abbey could hardly be less suitable as a home to shelter and raise two little girls. The estate I inherited from my elder brother had been...neglected, as I’m sure you’ve already noticed. In the eighteen months since returning from India, I have been doing everything I can to restore it to proper condition, which requires long hours of work and has forced economies that required me to reduce the staff to a bare minimum. I have neither wife nor mother to undertake their guidance and my household staff includes exactly four females—the cook, the housekeeper, a tweeny and one maid-of-all-work.’
‘Which explains your haste to hire a governess,’ Olivia said.
After giving her a sharp look—perhaps he didn’t expect a mere employee to interrupt his explanation with a comment?—he continued, ‘Unfortunately, I have no close female kin to whom I could send the girls, which is why they are still at Somers Abbey. I am in the process of making further enquiries, in hopes of finding them a more suitable situation. I tell you all this so you may understand that, although you were hired for a six-month period, it’s quite possible the term of your employment will be much shorter. After agreeing to journey here in such haste, you will, of course, be compensated for the full six months, whether or not whoever takes over the supervision of the children decides to retain you as their governess.’
She might be free—before the end of six months. Free to return to London with the whole of her pittance in her pocket!
Where, of course, she would simply have to secure a new position.
‘So I am to do my best for them until some genteel lady agrees to supervise their care. I suppose I shall also work with the maid or nurse who accompanied them from the Caribbean.’
‘They were not sent with a maid or nurse.’
Surprised, she said, ‘Who cared for them during their long journey?’
‘A couple returning to England—whom they had not previously met before the journey began.’
Olivia angled her head at him, frowning. ‘They travelled all alone across the ocean without a single companion they knew? Those poor little mites! They must have been terrified! Surely they had a nurse at home. Why was she not sent—?’
As the Colonel raised his eyebrows, Olivia realised that, once again, she was questioning her employer as an equal, rather than merely listening, as befitted an employee. With difficulty, she pressed her lips together and went silent.
‘A good question to which I doubt there is a charitable answer,’ he said drily. ‘You are...rather outspoken, are you not? The governesses I encountered in India all seemed to be meek, retiring creatures who barely had a word to say for themselves.’
‘I’m afraid I’m not at all retiring, Colonel. I ran my mother’s household until...until her recent demise and am quite used to being in charge.’
A glimmer of a smile flickered on his lips and lit his eyes before his expression turned sombre again. Unexpected—and unexpectedly engaging—that tiny spark of warmth raised her flagging spirits, like a candle illumining a dark room.
Even solemn, with a thin, care-worn face, she had to allow the Colonel was attractive. An aura of command surrounded him, subtly proclaiming this was a man used to making decisions, acting upon them and expecting others to obey. He had none of the charm or charisma of her friend Emma’s handsome husband, Lord Theo, but his air of competence and absolute dependability was unexpectedly appealing.
And she had no business finding her new employer attractive or appealing. While she was reminding herself of this fact, he said, ‘I’m sorry for your loss.’
Her throat gone suddenly tight, she merely nodded. His comment was too sharp of a reminder of just how much she had lost—not only her mother, but her home, position, friends and the future she’d always expected would be hers.
He stood, signifying the interview was over. ‘I shall appreciate any help you can give in making the children feel more at ease during their stay at Somers Abbey. Mansfield will take you to meet Mrs Wallace, the housekeeper, who will see that you have dinner and show you to your room.’
‘Are you not going to take me to meet the children?’
‘Mrs Wallace will do so, if they are still awake after you’ve dined.’
Finding that odd, Olivia said, ‘Are they not brought down to visit you in the evenings, after you return from working on the estate?’
‘No. I often don’t return until well after dark. Mrs Wallace believes children do better if they are kept on a regular, dependable schedule. As I am almost a total stranger to them, there really is no need for them to see me.’
‘But you said you were their last remaining relative...’
The quelling look the Colonel gave her had her words trailing off. Though there was a good deal more she’d like to know on the subject, she stifled the questions. She’d meet her charges, coax out their feelings on the matter, then decide whether or not to bring it up again with their guardian.
She might now be an employee, but she was never going to be meek or retiring.
The Colonel was a military man, used to the company of rough soldiers and adventuresome officers. Like many men, he was probably not accustomed to dealing with children, especially young and female ones.
However, as she knew only too painfully, coping with the loss of your entire world was frightening and devastating—and she was an adult. Being the sole remaining relative of two small girls who had recently lost theirs, he should be making a greater effort to help them adjust.
* * *
A few minutes later, Mansfield arrived to conduct her to her room.
It appeared the main part of the manor was medieval, to which several additions had been added. She followed the old man around a maze of twisting corridors and up a flight of stairs, down a draughty hallway to what looked like a wing of bedchambers. At least she was to be given a proper room, rather than a garret in the attics.
The room itself was large but spartan, containing only a bed, a single dresser with a washbowl on it, and a wardrobe. Perhaps it was the approaching shadows playing over the few pieces of furniture in a room that had obviously once contained many more that gave it such a bleak air, but it was also dusty, she noted in disapproval. Since the household obviously knew of her arrival, that didn’t give her a very high opinion of the housekeeper.
A knock at the door was followed by the entrance of a kitchen maid bearing a tray, which she set on the single side table beside the bed. She was followed by a tall, thin, dark-haired woman in a lace cap with a chain of keys hanging about her neck. ‘Your supper, Miss Overton,’ the woman said, giving her a slight curtsy, to which Olivia responded in kind. ‘I am Mrs Wallace, the housekeeper.’
As if the keys worn on a chain hanging about her neck didn’t identify her quite clearly, Olivia thought. ‘Pleased to meet you, Mrs Wallace. Will I also meet my new charges this evening?’
‘No, the Misses Glendenning have already retired. Their nursery is further down this corridor. Mary, here, will show you to it after she brings up your breakfast in the morning. Goodnight, Miss Overton.’
That was it? No welcome, no ‘let me know if you need anything’? Olivia swallowed hard. Yet another reminder that she was no longer a guest to be accommodated, but simply another employee.
‘Goodnight, Mrs Wallace, Mary.’ She smiled at the maid who, apparently startled by her notice, smiled back—before she caught the sharp eye of the housekeeper fixed on her, dropped a quick curtsy and scurried out.
Lighting a candle—fortunately, the derelict house seemed to at least provide candles—against the gathering gloom, Olivia shivered as she sat on the bed. The stone walls seemed as chilly as her greeting.
She hoped the poor children’s room was more
inviting. In any event, this house needed a large infusion of light and cheer, and beginning tomorrow, she was going to provide it—regardless of what her distant employer and his stiff-necked housekeeper might want.
She could use some cheer herself. As the weariness of long travel loosened the tight grip with which she’d been containing all the devastation of loss, grief and fear for the future bottled up within her, she felt tears begin to trickle down her cheeks. Alone, with no one to witness her breakdown, she wrapped her arms around her pillow and wept.
* * *
Some time in the night, as she huddled in her bed, counterpane pulled up over her head for warmth, Olivia woke with a start, conscious of a sense of alarm. What had roused her from a deep, exhausted sleep?
Pulling the covering from over her head, she heard it again—a soft, distant, mournful noise that sounded almost like—weeping.
The hairs rose on the back of her neck. Did this near-empty house contain—ghosts?
Given its gloom, she wouldn’t be surprised if the manor’s halls were trod late at night by wraiths of the unfortunate monks who’d been murdered during its seizure. However, as she told herself stoutly that supernatural spirits were only a myth, the sound continued.
Might it be coming...from the nursery?
After lighting a candle and throwing on her thick dressing gown, Olivia walked out of her chamber into the hallway, where the sound grew louder. She followed its increasing volume down the hallway, to halt before a closed door, which must be the nursery. Because she was certain what she heard was the sound of a small child crying.
After rapping on the door, she walked into the night-dark room, where the wavering light from her candle fell over two small girls. The larger one had her arms wrapped around a smaller one, who was weeping piteously.
The Tempting of the Governess Page 3