* * *
After a short time spent restoring her spirits in the privacy of her room, she returned to the nursery with writing paper—some of the last of her personal stationery. She’d brought it so she might write to Sara, but though she knew her friend would be anxiously awaiting news from her, she hadn’t yet been able to make herself undertake the task. Describing her circumstances would only reinforce the fact that her closest friend was far away and the two of them now occupied different worlds.
After talking with the girls as she made a comprehensive list of what she hoped to find in the attics, she had intended to have them practise their letters. But her enquiries about the extent of the studies they’d had in St Kitts revealed that not even the elder had yet begun to learn to read or write. Distressing as it was to her, Olivia wasn’t surprised; many still felt that educating women to do anything outside the domestic realm was unnecessary.
She gave them the paper and pencils with instructions instead to draw her pictures of their favourite things. By the time Mansfield came to the nursery to inform her that the master was ready to escort her to the attic, she had regained her usual equilibrium. She followed Mansfield out, knowing that obtaining books for teaching the girls how to read was now a priority.
The Colonel was already in the kitchen, speaking with the Cook, when she arrived. Evidently, the woman had been giving him a litany of complaints, for he was saying, ‘Believe me, Mrs Potter, I’m fully aware of the difficulties of labouring in a space so much in need of repair and improvement. I appreciate the good work you do, preparing meals for the household almost as fine as those you made for my mother, when your staff and supplies were much greater. I’ve hopes that we may be able to replace the stove next year. I shall certainly ask your advice on the size and kind at that time.’
‘That’s kind of you to say, Colonel, but I know standards have slipped. I’m sorry to be complaining, only it chafes me, it truly does, not be sending you up the sort of meals you would remember having as a young man, before you left for India. And you in such need of fattening up!’
‘Many’s the time I thought longingly of your cooking while I was over there,’ he said, treating her to one of his rare smiles—and my, how attractive he was when he smiled! No wonder Cook was charmed.
‘If that’s your custard tarts I’m smelling,’ he was saying, ‘after I take Miss Overton through the attics, I might need to steal one—just as I used to when I was a lad.’
‘You know I’d do anything to help. Your dear mama, God rest her soul, would say you work too hard!’
Another long-time employee who remembered him fondly from his youth, Olivia thought. Who seemed to serve him with the same fierce loyalty as the butler. Which spoke well for the Colonel’s character.
‘One of your custard tarts will surely revive me. Ah, Miss Overton,’ he said, belatedly noting her arrival. ‘Ready to go exploring?’
‘Yes, Colonel, and I’ve brought along a list of the items I’d like to find.’
‘Let’s hope, then, that my guess about them being stored in this attic was correct. We start this way.’
After lighting a lantern he’d picked up in preparation, he led her up the servants’ stairs to the next floor, then down a hallway flanked by a number of doorways. ‘These were once cells for the monks, then used for storage as other structures were added on. The stairs to the attic are here,’ he said, opening a door at the end of the corridor. ‘Quite steep and narrow, so watch your step. Those wide skirts aren’t very practical on stairs like these.’
‘Fashion is rarely practical, Colonel,’ she said, lifting her voluminous skirts in one hand and grasping the iron handrail to steady herself.
Holding the lantern aloft, he preceded her up the steep stairs. Her skirts were not the only things almost too wide for the stairwell. As she couldn’t help noting, the Colonel’s broad shoulders filled the space as well, nearly blocking the light from the lantern as he ascended.
Thankfully, when they reached the attic itself, illumination from garret windows at the two opposite ends provided some light, which, with the addition of the lantern, allowed her to see tolerably well. She scanned the large, open floor, the whole expanse filled with boxes, trunks and the shadowy forms of items draped in Holland cloths.
‘Well, here it is,’ he said, moving the lantern to paint an arc of brighter light around the space. ‘I’m afraid leading you here is about as much use as I can be. I have no idea where the items you’re looking for are to be found, if they are indeed up here.’
‘If they are, it stands to reason that all the nursery items were probably stored together. If you can identify the table you said used to be in the schoolroom, we might find other articles nearby.’
‘That would be logical. Let me check.’ One by one, he went to the cloth-swathed furniture items and pulled aside the drapery, while Olivia occupied herself inspecting the contents of the nearby boxes. She’d discovered several sets of china in one crate and a trunk of clothing that appeared to have been left from the previous century before the Colonel called out, ‘I’ve found the table!’
She picked her way around the crates and boxes to where he stood. Having set the lantern on the table he’d bared, he was pulling aside the swathing on several nearby items. ‘Yes, these are the desks, too.’
‘Are there boxes or trunks with them?’
‘Three trunks and several boxes. Why don’t you sit here,’ he said, using one of the Holland cloths to dust off a trunk, ‘and we’ll open them.’
She dutifully took a seat and unlatched the nearest trunk. ‘Definitely from the schoolroom,’ she said as she began pulling out items. ‘Toys, it appears. I’ve got two sets of cup-and-ball, a bag of marbles and several tops.’
‘There should be a large box of toy soldiers somewhere.’
‘So you knew even as a boy that you wanted to go into the army?’
‘Oh, yes. For birthdays and Christmases and whenever I could wheedle treats out of Father or my aunts, I collected soldiers. By the end, I had enough to stage a respectable re-enactment of the Battle of Waterloo. My brother Charles wasn’t as keen as I was, but could usually be prevailed upon to take part.’
‘I hope you won’t be offended, but I expect the girls will be less enthused,’ she said. ‘Did your brother have a special interest?’
After opening another box, he held up a miniature carriage. ‘Horses and vehicles were his delight. Not to speak ill of the dead, but about the only part of Somers Abbey that wasn’t in a shambles when I returned to England was the stables. Sadly, Charles never had any interest in the land or the duties required to properly manage it.’ He sighed. ‘Now it’s my duty to try to repair years of neglect.’ He gave a gruff laugh. ‘Charles would have been furious to learn the first step I took was to sell off almost all his expensive hunters and thoroughbreds.’
‘You do love the land.’
‘I do, though I never expected to end up with it. Like many a younger son, I thought to make the army my career. But apparently fate had other plans.’
‘What shocking reversals it sometimes throws at us,’ she said with feeling. But that observation cutting too close to her own circumstances, she continued quickly, ‘This is a humming top, isn’t it? The girls might enjoy that and the two spinning ones.’
‘Yes, I hope there will be a few things they want to play with. I’m afraid we won’t find any dolls or samplers or needlework.’
‘Ah, and here is a wonderful set of spillikins. That was my game, more than the tops or the cup-in-ball.’
‘Dexterous, were you, Miss Overton?’
‘Very. I could always manage to slip one more slender stick from the pile without toppling the whole.’
‘Whereas cup-and-ball was my game.’
‘Have you maintained your skill? Although I suppose that wasn’t a pastime much indulged in by the army.’
‘Not at all. Cards, sometimes, but mainly riding, shooting and drinking.’ He grimaced. ‘Lots of drinking.’
‘Could you still land it, do you think?’
‘Probably.’ Raising a brow at her, he reached over to take one of the sets she’d laid on the chest. After a few swings, he guided the ball expertly into the cup.
‘Well done!’ Olivia said approvingly. ‘You definitely haven’t lost your skill.’
Nodding, he laid the toy back on the chest. ‘Charles and I used to challenge each other, to see who could land the ball the most times in a row. We were pretty evenly matched.’
Olivia continued to open the boxes as they talked. ‘Aha, books!’ she said triumphantly. ‘I knew there must be some here.’
Looking up from the trunk he was opening, the Colonel said, ‘Are there the reading books you were hoping for?’
‘Yes, several of them. And books of nursery rhymes. Here’s Tom Thumb’s Folio and an Aesop’s Fables, too. I shall love to read those to the girls.’
‘Are there any educational materials in with them?’
‘Such as?’
‘Geographical puzzles. We had quite a few and used to race to see who could put theirs together faster. I remember being so disappointed, years later, to discover the one of India was highly inaccurate. The English one was quite good and Europe was pretty close to the mark as well.’
‘Was there one of the whole world? I would love to show the girls their island and how it looks in relation to England and the rest of the nations.’
‘I don’t remember one, but there should be a globe. Probably about as accurate as the India puzzle.’
Opening the last box beside him, the Colonel said, ‘Here are your slates. I’m not sure there is any chalk—you may have to obtain that in Bristol.’
‘You haven’t turned up any paper, have you? For sketching and watercolours? Although after all this time, I expect any remaining paints would have to be replaced anyway.’
‘Put paints, brushes and paper on your Bristol list. Well, that’s all in these boxes. Have you found anything else?’
‘Looks like another bag of marbles and several more sets of cards at the bottom. I haven’t found the toy soldiers.’
‘Since it’s doubtful the girls would want to play with them, we don’t need to waste time searching for them. Let’s move the boxes and trunks with the materials you want over by the door. I’ll have two of the grooms come over later and bring them and the furniture down and back up to the schoolroom.’
‘I could probably carry a box with me now.’
The Colonel frowned as he stacked two boxes on a trunk, preparing to ferry them to the door. ‘Please don’t. Those stairs are dangerous enough in skirts, even without you carrying anything. Your good intentions to provide materials for your charges aren’t worth the risk of breaking an arm or an ankle.’
‘Impatient as I am to get started, I suppose you’re right,’ she admitted. ‘However, I can at least bring the Aesop’s Fables. Although I have no trouble making up bedtime stories, I should love to read to them, too.’
‘Very well, but I insist on carrying it for you.’
She shook her head. He certainly acted the commanding officer! ‘If you insist...’
For the next few minutes, they were occupied carrying the assorted boxes and trunks to the side of the room near the stairs, the Colonel once again intervening to forbid her to carry any but the lighter boxes, while he hefted the trunks.
They grouped all the materials together and then counted the number of containers, so the grooms would know how many they needed to fetch. Pausing by the door to the stairs, where they both had to bend a bit to avoid knocking their heads on the roof beams, the Colonel offered Olivia his handkerchief. ‘This may get the worst of the dust off, although I imagine you’ll want to give your hands a thorough washing when you get back to your room.’
Nodding her thanks, she took it and began wiping off her fingers. ‘Yes, and I imagine the gown will need a thorough brushing, too. But I don’t mind a little dust. I’m very grateful to have supplies to begin lessons for the girls. Thank you, Colonel, for taking the time to find them for me.’
Nodding, the Colonel remained beside her, book under his arm. ‘Thank you, Miss Overton, for being so diligent in your care of them. They are lucky to have you as their governess—and so am I.’
Olivia couldn’t help pinking with pleasure at the compliment. ‘Thank you again, sir. I hope to be.’
‘And something else.’ He paused, looking thoughtful, before continuing, ‘When I returned from India to Somers Abbey, all I could see was how much everything had deteriorated. Practically every waking hour since has been spent working to restore the place and, at times, my thoughts towards my brother have not been charitable. But going through the nursery things this afternoon reminded of what a good companion he was growing up, before we went our separate ways. Thank you for giving me back those happier memories.’
She shook her head deprecatingly. ‘You are welcome, but it was the task, not me.’
He chuckled. ‘A task I would never have undertaken had you not spurred me to it.’ He motioned towards the stairs. ‘Let me go down ahead of you—so I can catch you if you trip on those skirts.’
The idea of falling into his arms sent a little shock of awareness through her. She looked up quickly, catching one of the strands of her braided coiffure on the beam overhead. The Colonel reached up to free it for her—and halted, his hand on the beam, his gaze focused on Olivia.
His stance, half-bent over her, might have been intimidating. Instead, Olivia found the proximity of his powerful frame reassuring—but also oddly disturbing, in a way that made her skin prickle and set off flutters in the pit of her stomach. Supremely conscious of the breadth and strength of the shoulders so near to her, she was captivated by the masculine force of the face gazing down at her—high brow, straight nose, finely chiselled lips—and mesmerised by the intensity of his gaze.
Her rational mind stuttered to a halt, freezing in her brain a single coherent thought.
What would it be like to kiss him?
She should move away, but she couldn’t seem to get her limbs to function. Neither could she force herself to break his gaze. Though she had virtually no experience in the matter, his intense concentration on her made it seem like maybe...he might want to kiss her, too.
And wasn’t he bending lower, bringing his lips closer to hers?
Every nerve tensing, her eyes drifted closed...before she heard his harsh intake of breath—and heard him move away, setting every feminine instinct protesting.
‘We’d better be getting back.’ Opening the attic door, he raised the lantern and started down the stairs.
This time, Olivia was glad of the broad back that blocked the light—leaving in shadow the cheeks she could feel flaming as dispassionate reason returned.
Goodness, what had come over her, to imagine anything so nonsensical?
She was a tall, plain, brown-haired woman who’d never inspired any gentleman with passion—which was one of the reasons she’d intended to devote her life to causes, rather than settle for marriage to a man who wanted her to run his household while he pursued prettier mistresses. Her plain friend Emma had had the good fortune to find her Lord Theo, but there had never been a ton gentleman who attracted her—or one who pursued her that she’d had any desire to encourage.
If she were still a lady of the ton and the Colonel were to pursue her...
But she was not and would never be again. Besides, the Colonel was a powerful, virile, very attractive man. Even if she were not his employee, it was beyond ridiculous to imagine he might want to kiss her.
She was his employee and it was past time for her to put a stop to this fanciful imagining and behave as though she understood her place. And if she were weak enoug
h to sometimes fall into longing over what might have been, better that she avoid as much as possible placing herself in situations where she would be alone with him.
No more leisurely explorations of the attic.
For he hadn’t been the only one fondly tripping down memory lane. The toys and books and puzzles recalled her own childhood, happy times spent reading with her governess and occasionally playing with her older brother, before the tragedy of the illness that had carried him away while she was still in short skirts.
No point remembering that old grief. No point dwelling on the knowledge that had Frederick reached manhood and inherited the Overton estate, he would have been trustee of her inheritance and it probably wouldn’t have been lost in a risky investment scheme. Or if her brother had been responsible for its loss, he would have made it up out of income from the estate—the one that now belonged to her cousin. She would not have been left homeless and virtually penniless.
Those grim reflections were enough to cool the last of the warmth the Colonel’s nearness had evoked. Following him down the stairs, she felt again the desolation of loneliness and near despair that had brought her to tears when he’d mentioned politics.
Would she have done better to marry Everston? She might have remained in London, surrounded by her friends, involved in the causes she loved.
But visiting her friends and continuing her favourite activities would not have been assured. She would have had her husband’s household and his numerous offspring to manage, no guarantee of any funds of her own—and Everston in her bed.
Better that she remain where she was, no matter how lonely—or how easily her attractive employer seemed able to evoke a bitter longing for a different life.
Chapter Eight
The next afternoon, Hugh was supervising the draining of some fields in the northern sector of the estate, when a groom rode up with the news that a visitor from India had arrived at Somers Abbey.
Conflicting emotions filled him at the news. On the one hand, Stephen Saulter had been his closest friend on the subcontinent. Having started in the army and then transferred to the civilian administration, Stephen knew India well and had been extremely helpful in acclimating Hugh to that foreign world and inspiring him with a deep appreciation of its ancient culture.
The Tempting of the Governess Page 8