Chapter Thirteen
Despite the promise she’d herself made not to seek out the Colonel for any private consultations, late that evening Olivia found herself lingering in the corridor beyond the library door, waiting for Mr Saulter and his host to finish the convivial brandies they’d gone up to share after returning from dinner at the Squire’s.
Of course, they might have settled into the time-honoured regimental tradition of drinking until dawn. But the information she needed to convey was important enough that she was willing to wait a while longer. She feared if she put off her mission until the morning, occupied by the children as she would be then, she might miss catching the Colonel before he headed out to the fields.
Besides, if she did wait until morning, he would likely be in the breakfast room or parlour, probably accompanied by his guest. She needed to speak with him alone and at a place and time where there was little chance Mrs Wallace might be about to eavesdrop.
To her relief, after a few more rounds of pacing the corridor, she heard the squeak of the door opening, followed by Saulter’s voice calling goodnight. She slipped into the shadows of the hallway, waiting until the guest had turned the corner, heading away from her towards the wing of bedchambers, before she hurried to the library door.
After quickly rapping, she stepped inside. ‘Colonel, might I have a word with you?’
Engaged in returning the brandy decanter to the sideboard, at the sound of her voice, he turned sharply towards her, alarm on his face. ‘What is it? Nothing wrong with the girls—’
‘No, no, they are fine. Sleeping like angels.’
As he exiled a sigh of relief, Olivia felt a pang of guilt.
He slipped away between dusk and midnight.
Her sudden interruption must have recalled to the Colonel the night he’d returned to learn the son he’d left happily playing in the afternoon was dead.
‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to worry you.’
‘What do you need to tell me, then? It must be important, or you’d not have lost sleep, waiting up for me.’
‘It is something I thought you needed to know immediately—since it may cause you to alter your plans about visiting Travers,’ she replied. She wouldn’t add that finding sleep would have proved elusive in any event, the stark contrast between her solitary evening tonight and the three wonderfully convivial ones that preceded it making her too restless for peaceful slumber.
To say nothing of recalling that almost-kiss.
Dragging her mind back to the matter at hand, she walked over to stand in front of his desk, shaking her head when he motioned for her to take a seat. ‘This won’t take long. After the girls were in bed—’ being too agitated to read through the long, lonely evening that stretched ahead ‘—I went down to ask Mrs Wallace if the household had any extra cloth. Though my trip to Bristol equipped the girls with warm nightwear and spencers to go over their light dresses, they still need several gowns made from heavier material for daytime wear, which I could sew for them if I had dress lengths. Mrs Wallace told me she had no extra material, but there were several trunks of old gowns in the attic. That if you gave your permission, I could pick them apart and remake them for the children.’
‘You certainly have my permission. The trunks must be Mama’s. She would approve of having her old gowns refashioned for such a good cause.’ He angled his head at her, that half-smile she found so attractive lighting his face. ‘Informing me about your upcoming sewing project was important enough for you to lose sleep over?’
Despite her intent to remain brisk and impersonal, she couldn’t seem to help smiling back. ‘My sewing skill is not worth that! It’s what happened afterwards. I went up to the attic—’
‘The one I showed you?’ he interrupted again, frowning. ‘I certainly hope not! Those stairs are much too steep for you to be climbing up in skirts, holding a lantern. I’ll—’ He halted abruptly, then continued, ‘I’ll have one of the grooms show you up tomorrow.’
‘I didn’t make it all the way up. As you say, the stairs are too dangerous for me to negotiate with lantern in hand, so I didn’t take one. I’d hoped there would be enough light from the gable windows to illumine the space, but by the time I was nearly at the top, I realised that, with night coming on, the attic was too dark for me to even locate the trunks.’
‘You would need help to carry them down anyway.’
‘Yes, but I thought to inspect the contents first, to discover whether or not it was worth having them hauled down. But that’s beside the point.’
‘So there is a point?’
Despite her resolve to distance herself, the warmth and delight she felt at his teasing tone was in such stark contrast to the desolate loneliness of her evening, she was sorely tempted to respond in kind.
Which should be warning enough for her to conclude her business as quickly as possible and leave, before all her other wise and noble resolves crumbled.
‘I’m about to get to it,’ she said tartly. ‘By the time I picked my way back down the stairs, Mrs Wallace had retired to her rooms for the evening. In case the material in the trunks turns out not to be suitable, I intended to go ask her to remind me how much I’d spent on the spencers—the trip to Bristol was done in such a rush, I remembered the total but not how much the individual garments cost—so I could advise you of the sum. Mary stopped me, explaining that the housekeeper had long ago instructed the staff that once she retires to her rooms, she is not to be disturbed, except for an emergency. Mansfield, who was still in the butler’s pantry, seconded Mary’s appeal that I not excite Mrs Wallace’s wrath. He suggested instead that I consult the household account book she keeps in her desk in the servants’ hall. While he suspected she would be livid if she learned I’d looked through it, he felt it would be safe enough for me to take a quick peek, as long as I replaced it in precisely the same position in the drawer that I’d found it.’
‘Worrying over the price of spencers is enough to keep you awake?’
What she’d discovered being too alarming to joke about, she continued soberly, ‘I found the entry quickly enough, but the amount she listed as having been dispensed for my Bristol trip was almost twice what I actually spent. Did you authorise her to take extra money from the household funds, beyond what you repaid me, perhaps to set aside towards purchasing more clothing for the girls?’
The Colonel’s smile faded, too. ‘No. She asked me what the total was and I told her. Exactly the amount I gave you.’
‘I thought as much,’ Olivia replied, nodding. ‘I was going to dismiss it—it really was too trifling a matter to disturb you about, but something about it seemed so strange. On impulse, I tracked down Mansfield and asked him how much last week’s order of wine and spirits had cost. You see, he’d told me he used to enter the totals for the goods he receives into the book himself, but Mrs Wallace began complaining that he didn’t write clearly enough. So for some time, she alone has made all the ledger entries. The cost he quoted was a little more than half the amount entered in the ledger. So I rousted Cook and asked her if she knew how much had been paid for the last order of flour from the mill.’
‘Also significantly less than was recorded in the ledger?’
‘Yes. If you run your household as I used to run mine, money is taken from the storeroom and given into the housekeeper’s hand to be dispensed to pay bills as the household incurs them. In this case, it appears Mrs Wallace has been drawing from those funds a good bit more than what the actual bills totalled.’
‘You mean to say that she’s been embezzling money from the household funds?’
‘I don’t really have enough evidence to make that accusation. There may be another explanation. But the appearance of impropriety is strong enough, I felt you needed to know about it at once. So you have time to decide how you want to proceed.’
The Colonel shook his head.
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��One expects the servants to keep the proceeds when candle nubs are sold off, or older garments discarded, each servant selling his own traditional share of cast-offs. But to have someone actually stealing funds? The bald-faced arrogance staggers me! When I think of all the hours I’ve slaved away, trying to restore this estate and drag it back from the edge of bankruptcy, all the while trusting Mrs Wallace for its proper management... Damnation!’ he cried, slamming his fist on the desk. Almost immediately he collected himself and looked back up at her. ‘Forgive me, Miss Overton.’
‘No need for forgiveness, sir. It’s a serious charge and will require some careful investigation—especially if you intend to discharge her. Should she get wind of that, she might flee, or try to destroy any evidence that might serve to incriminate her.’
‘Like that ledger. Keeping her from suspecting anything may be difficult, though, if the other staff starts whispering about discrepancies in the bookkeeping.’
‘I didn’t mention the discrepancies to anyone else. When I was asking about expenditures, I just told Mansfield and Cook I found it interesting to compare the expenses from month to month and season to season, and was pondering ways I might use the varying costs as a lesson in sums for the girls.’ She laughed wryly. ‘Though they offered the information, they both looked at me like I was rather odd.’
The Colonel shook his head, his expression still furious, but his anger now tightly controlled. ‘You’re not odd—you’re exceptional,’ he retorted. ‘If you hadn’t had the wit to question this, none of it would have been discovered. And if further enquiry does prove what you suspect to be true, I might have sent Mrs Wallace on her way with impunity—even providing her a good character!—after she’d bilked the household funds of who knows how much.’
‘If it is true, she may have secreted the funds here somewhere. After all, she only has a half-day off and seldom goes beyond the village. There would have been talk if she’d been spending large amounts with the merchants there.’
‘I must discover the truth of this immediately, before she suspects I mean to turn her off, else she might run off with her ill-gotten gains,’ the Colonel concluded. ‘You are right—as always—Miss Overton. This was important enough for you to wait up and tell me about tonight. How can I thank you?’
He turned on her not just the half-smile she’d glimpsed several times, but a full smile that lit his blue eyes, softened the harsh planes of his cheekbones and glowed with warmth. Dazzled, the description of his younger self that Mansfield and Travers had given her came to mind—confident, commanding, eager to go out to India, ready to conquer the world.
If the world-weary Colonel was attractive, this version of him was breath-stealing.
‘Knowing you will discover the truth of it, one way or the other, is thanks enough,’ she said at last, making herself look away from the tantalising sight of him—before her delight at his praise made her forget the boundaries she must maintain.
Then, to her shock, he reached up and took her hand, cradling it in his large one. She felt the warmth of it zing to her toes, lighting off nerves all over her body as it went.
While she stood there, barely breathing, he brought her fingers to his lips. ‘I owe you much more than this simple salute, Miss Overton,’ he murmured, his gaze capturing hers. ‘Once more, you intervene to lighten my load. I hope one day to repay you for it. How I wish I might...’
For long moments after his words trailed off, they remained frozen in place, gazing at each other. Completely lost in him, as his grip on her hand tightened, she found herself leaning closer—hoping he would give her the kiss she’d truly prefer as her reward.
Instead, with a sharp shake of his head, he abruptly sat back in his chair and released her hand. ‘You should get some sleep,’ he said, his voice now gruff. ‘I’ll let you know what I find out and how I wish to proceed. Until then, please do your best to pretend that nothing is going on. Goodnight, Miss Overton.’
Unable to prolong their talk after so clear a dismissal, she balled her tingling hand into a fist and forced her trembling body to walk out the door.
* * *
The next afternoon, Hugh accepted the reins of the landau from the coachman and prepared to set off for the front entrance of Somers Abbey.
‘Are you sure you don’t want me to drive you, Colonel?’ the coachman asked.
‘Certain,’ he replied. ‘It’s been a while since I’ve had the pleasure of handling a team and having me on the box will give my wards and their governess more room while they take in the sights of the countryside.’
‘As you wish, sir.’
Nodding to the coachman, Hugh set the vehicle in motion. He was pretty sure his facile explanation was satisfactory enough—the ways of the Quality were mysterious, after all—that the man wouldn’t speculate about the trip to any of the other staff.
Though he did enjoy driving, Hugh was more concerned that no one else at Somers Abbey discover his real reason for calling on Travers. Leaving the coachman behind would ensure there was no possibility of the man overhearing anything during their visit.
Driving himself did offer two more important benefits. He would have to concentrate on managing the horses, allowing him little time to notice Miss Overton, and he would not have to share a narrow coach seat beside the far-too-tempting governess.
He already had to contend with the dreams that tortured him, waking to remember the scent and feel of her in his arms as he’d waltzed with her, clasped against him more tightly than propriety allowed. Or the memories of the aching sweetness of her lips he’d sensed and craved and almost kissed before denying himself that pleasure.
Then there’d been last night in the library. Wrapped in candlelight and longing, he hadn’t been able to resist teasing her. He’d indulged himself, too, using the natural gratitude one would expect him to feel after she’d warned him of such a serious offence as an excuse to touch her—kissing her hand so he might resist the urge to take her lips.
She made him feel young and vibrant, and alive again, things he’d forgotten he could feel after three years of shutting down every emotion, putting one foot in front of the other and merely going through the motions of life. She’d revived for him happy memories he’d forgotten and reawakened him to music, perhaps the one pleasure he could let himself enjoy. She’d even made it seem possible that he might be able to give Robert’s children the care and affection his cousin would have wanted for them.
Grateful as he was for all those gifts, it didn’t lessen his burden of guilt or his resolve to remain a widower—which was why he needed to walk a very careful line in keeping his desire for her under control.
By now, he’d rounded the drive from the stables and was pulling up at the front entrance where Miss Overton and her charges were to meet him. ‘Your chariot awaits, ladies,’ he called down to them as he set the brake.
‘I’m so glad you are taking us today!’ Elizabeth said as Miss Overton helped her and her little sister into the vehicle, then clambered up herself.
Though he remained fully aware of the governess seated just a few feet away, the distance between them was great enough that he was able to concentrate on his driving. In the passenger space behind him, she was asking the girls to tell her what they would see if the carriage were driving through the countryside of St Kitts. By the time Elizabeth had finished describing big houses with wide walkways all around them, shaded gardens, tall skinny trees with large nuts growing on them and bushes with prickly yellow fruit that tasted delicious—coconut palms and pineapple plants, he assumed—he was pulling up the team in front of Travers’s little cottage.
The lady herself, who’d been outside cutting roses as they approached, ran up to the carriage as soon as it came to a halt. ‘How wonderful of you to pay me a visit, Master Hugh! I see you’ve brought Miss Overton and your wards, too. Please, do come in! I’ll put the kettle on for tea.’
‘Welcome, welcome, all of you,’ Travers said, her face wreathed in smiles. ‘How fortunate that I decided to bring home some fresh tarts from the bakery this morning! Hurry, Master Hugh, or I expect these two lovely girls will finish every last crumb before you get back.’
He lingered for a moment after all his passengers had disembarked, watching Travers as she ushered her guests up the walk and into the cottage, before setting the coach in motion with a feeling of relief. He hadn’t visited the older lady in many months, but as Miss Overton claimed, Travers appeared healthy and vigorous—quite capable of assuming a housekeeper’s duties.
If she were also willing, that would solve one problem. Thanks again to Miss Overton for suggesting it.
* * *
By the time he returned to the cottage, Miss Overton was pouring tea while Travers dispensed berry tarts to her guests. As soon as all the adults were seated on a settle by the fire, the little girls on cushions on the floor, and their hostess perched on a footstool, Elizabeth said, ‘Did you really know our papa?’
Her smile gentling, Travers said, ‘Yes, I did, young lady. And how you two remind me of him, with your dark hair and those beautiful blue eyes! He was a serious lad, but always ready to kick up a lark—led on by Master Hugh.’
Miss Overton chuckled. ‘A rascal, were you, Colonel?’
‘He was a lively one,’ Travers confirmed with a laugh. ‘Remember, Master Hugh, the time your mama had a friend visiting with a little daughter? You must have been all of seven or eight, same as Master Robert, and that little girl wanted to tag along after you everywhere. Nothing would discourage her until you led her to the kitchen, promising some of Cook’s sweet rolls. Then, while she ate them, you and Robert dipped her braids in honey!’ The old lady chuckled. ‘Took your mama and me near on an hour to wash it out.’
The Tempting of the Governess Page 15