‘Of course. I’ll come up to the schoolroom and tell them later today.’
The schoolroom—where she’d been about to have Pierre transferred. Inane as it was in the face of her whole world collapsing, she found herself asking, ‘What will happen to the parrot?’
He gave a grimace of a smile. ‘If Lady Laversby won’t have it, I think I’ll put Pierre in the library.’
‘So when do you wish me to leave? Today? Or am I permitted to say goodbye to the children before they go?’
He closed his eyes briefly again at the sharpness of her tone. ‘You may leave whenever you like. Though I would appreciate your remaining until after Lady Laversby collects the children.’
‘So they may have another day or so with someone they know, before they are shipped off with strangers again?’
She was being unfair, but she couldn’t seem to help herself. In a mere handful of hours, she would be losing both the girls—and him. She felt as though her bones were splintering inside her, whole seas of organs dissolving and washing away.
He didn’t bother responding to that jibe. ‘You will receive your full six months’ salary, of course. Let John know when and how you’d like to travel back to London and he’ll make the arrangements. There’s just one thing more. As I’d already mentioned, the other driving reason for my offering marriage was to secure your future and see you restored to your proper position in life. I still intend to do that, but in a manner that will not threaten your happiness by entangling your life with mine.’
Returning to his desk, he pulled a small leather pouch from a drawer. As he dropped it on to the desk, she heard the musical clank of coins. ‘Before you leave, I want you to have this. By rights, it belongs to you.’
Confused, she examined the bag with a frown. ‘I don’t own a pouch like that and I certainly don’t have extra funds to place in one.’
‘It contains the money Mrs Wallace embezzled over the years. Since you discovered her villainy, it really should be yours. What would you say if I told you this bag held enough to pay for two years of rent for the house on Judd Street? So that upon your return to London you might secure the home you told me about and share it with Miss Standish. Resume your place in society, take up your work again with the Committee and the orphan school. Do all the things that mean so much to you.’
The generosity of his gesture dropped into the vast sea of her anguish and disappeared without a trace. After he’d shattered her heart and ground the pieces into his library floor, he had the gall to offer her money?
A pain that cut so deep she couldn’t breathe was followed by an all-consuming fury. Leaping up from her chair, she marched to the door and turned to look at him.
‘Many thanks for your kind consideration, but I think not.’
With that, she stalked out of the library, slamming the door with every bit of strength she could muster.
* * *
At least she wouldn’t have to break the awful news to the girls, Olivia thought as she walked numbly back up to her room. Since the children, who after their experiences were particularly sensitive to changes in emotion, would be able to sense in an instant that something was amiss, she couldn’t go back to the schoolroom just yet. Not until she’d composed herself enough to show them a serene face.
She supposed it was some sort of victory that the Colonel had almost—almost—managed to pry himself from the ghosts of his past. She already knew he desired her and he’d just come very close to admitting he loved her.
Just not close enough.
Not that she blamed him for that failure—after all he had endured, how could she? There wasn’t a cowardly bone in his body—indeed, if he had a fault, it was in trying to take responsibility for everyone and everything, rather than shrinking away from the challenge.
He was already trying to open his heart again to children whom experience told him could die. How could she fault him for not wishing to open it further for a woman who could betray?
Was it just yesterday that they’d returned from that trip to Bristol? When, for that blissful day, they’d seemed almost like...a family? Not truly a family yet, of course. There hadn’t been enough time to solidify those tentative bonds. But oh, how sure she was that they might have become one!
But instinctively she knew, too, that everyone has a limit beyond which a loss cuts too deep to heal. No one could decide what that limit was for another and it wasn’t kind or fair to try to push the Colonel past his.
If only she’d met him before India—when his heart was still open and undamaged.
And hadn’t her life these last few months been filled with might-have-beens?
Idiot, her practical mind responded. If she had met him before India, he would have been in love with a golden Beauty and wouldn’t have looked twice at a tall, plain, managing, brown-haired spinster.
What would happen to her and the girls had already been decided and she had no power to change that decision. Rather than indulge in pointless imaginings, she would do better to pack her few things, decide how and when she meant to travel back to London...and figure out how she was going to say goodbye to the girls.
She already knew she couldn’t bear saying goodbye to the Colonel.
* * *
In the afternoon two days later, Olivia put the last item in her trunk, latched it and gave it to the waiting groom to take to the stables. She would go to the schoolroom, say goodbye to the girls before their new nursery maid summoned them to join Lady Laversby, who was waiting downstairs with the Colonel to escort them to her travelling carriage, and then leave Somers Abbey.
She’d decided that she would not share her last few minutes with the girls with a roomful of strangers—and the Colonel—looking on. It had been bad enough last night, escorting them down for their first meeting with his great-aunt and then sitting in the corner, stiff and silent and invisible, like a proper governess, while their new protector embraced them and chatted about all the delights that awaited them at Laversby Hall.
She was trying to steel herself to be as cheerful and positive as possible before she went to the schoolroom, knowing her distress would only make her apprehensive charges—former charges, she amended—more uncertain and uneasy than they already were.
Deciding she was as ready as she was likely to get, she squared her shoulders and left her room.
She barely made it inside the schoolroom before Sophie flung herself at her, arms around her knees and clinging to her skirts. Elizabeth remained seated on her bed, ankles crossed decorously, misery and trepidation on her face.
‘Do we have to go, Miss Overton?’ she asked.
Putting an arm around Sophie, she walked her to the bed, lifted her up beside her sister and then sat beside them.
‘I’m afraid you do, my dear. But you are going to like your new home very much. Lady Laversby is such a kind lady, isn’t she? And she is so excited about having you come to live with her! Remember how she described the rooms you will have, with large bright windows, and curtains and coverlets of whatever colour you choose? She has a dressmaker waiting there to make up new gowns for you. And a whole family of dolls! I expect there may be ponies, too.’
‘Why can’t we stay with you?’ Elizabeth asked.
‘Well, you see, the Colonel is your papa’s cousin and Lady Laversby is his great-aunt, so you are all family. I’m not related to you in any way, so I don’t have the right to keep you.’
‘Couldn’t you come with us?’
‘I’m just the governess. I’m...hired, a servant, like Cook or Mary. The Colonel engaged me to work here at Somers Abbey, but Lady Laversby decides who will work at her home. She already has two maids to help you and she wants the very, very nice lady who was governess to her own girls, who loved them and took such very good care of them, to take care of you, too. So...she doesn’t need me to work for her.’
‘We do.’
Her heart stuttering, Olivia took a deep breath. ‘It will be strange at first, but I’ll write to you, so you must work hard and learn your letters so you can read my notes all by yourself. And there will be so many wonderful things to see and do that, soon, you’ll be so happy there you will hardly remember being here at Somers Abbey.’
Elizabeth shook her head. ‘I won’t forget. The warm soft nightgowns you got for us and picking flowers in the garden and the screaming game. We won’t be able to play the screaming game at the new house, will we?’
Olivia could only imagine the reaction of the Colonel’s very proper great-aunt. ‘Probably not.’
‘New gowns will be nice, but I want the ones from the material we picked out. The ones you were going to make for us.’
‘I can still make them for you, sweetheart.’
‘You promise?’
‘I promise.’
‘Will you come and bring them to us when you’re finished? Please?’
She really ought not to promise anything. Even with her fare back to London paid and the six months’ salary she’d found on the table in her room last night, she would have to be very careful with funds. She didn’t know how long it would take her to find another position and she really didn’t want to depend on Sara’s charity.
Just as she’d refused to depend on the Colonel’s, she thought bitterly, pain slicing through her again at the memory of his misplaced generosity.
Lady Laversby probably wouldn’t be thrilled at having the girls’ former governess showing up uninvited, either, creating a rather awkward social situation. She was no longer a lady to be entertained as a guest, but not exactly a servant to share a room with the maids, either.
To say nothing of the fact that the best thing for Olivia personally would be to return to London and try to relegate every heartbreaking detail of her life at Somers Abbey to the deepest, darkest part of her memory as quickly as possible.
But looking at the woebegone expression on Elizabeth’s face, and with Sophie silently weeping on her sleeve, she couldn’t bring herself to refuse.
‘Yes, sweeting, once I finish the gowns, I will bring them to you.’
‘How soon will you finish them?’
Despite her own tears that threatened, she had to smile at the little girl’s persistence. ‘It will be several weeks. You must not worry if it seems like a long time. I promised to come and I will.’
There was a tap at the door, Lady Laversby’s nursery maid entering after the knock. Giving Olivia a curtsy, she said, ‘My mistress is waiting downstairs for the young ladies. If you would follow me, girls?’
Sophie clutched her shoulder, but brave little Elizabeth swallowed hard and, with quiet determination, slipped off the bed.
‘Now, if you please, miss,’ the maid said to her, making a ‘shooing’ motion at Sophie.
‘Give us a moment, won’t you?’ Olivia said sharply, glaring at the girl, who rolled her eyes, but retreated into the hallway.
Anguish building within her, she helped Sophie off the bed. ‘Best go down now, girls. We don’t want to give Lady Laversby a bad impression, being late from the start.’
Nodding, Elizabeth took her sister’s hand. ‘We have to go, Sophie.’
‘Goodbye, sweet girls,’ Olivia whispered.
‘Goodbye, Miss Overton. I l-love you,’ Elizabeth whispered back.
And then they were both clinging to her, Olivia kneeling to wrap them tightly in her arms. She could feel Sophie’s shoulders shaking, the wetness of Elizabeth’s tears at her shoulder where the little girl had buried her face. Her own breathing was ragged as she struggled to hold herself together.
At last, she released them, placed a kiss on each girl’s forehead and gently ushered them out into the hall, where the maid waited.
‘Come along, young misses,’ the girl said and shepherded them towards the stairs.
Not sure she could stand it if either of them looked back, Olivia hastily retreated into the schoolroom. Once the echo of their footsteps faded, she placed both hands over her mouth to hold in the wail she mustn’t utter. Light-headed, agony slashing her chest, she leaned against the doorframe, gasping for breath as she choked down sobs.
It took her a few minutes to master herself. Once she was reasonably calm again, she walked back to her room, scanned it one last time for any items she might have overlooked, then donned her pelisse and gathered up her reticule and a small bandbox. She headed for the door, hesitated and, unable to prevent herself, walked over to the window, which overlooked the front drive.
She stood there, numb and aching, until she saw Lady Laversby’s carriage bowl down the carriageway.
Suddenly feeling driven to quit Somers Abbey as quickly as possible, she hurried out the door and over to the servants’ stairs, swiftly descended to the kitchen, slipped out the back door and hustled towards the stables.
Her silent, solitary exit was fitting. No one had welcomed her to Somers Abbey. She couldn’t bear to have any of the staff she’d come to like and appreciate bid her farewell.
She walked into the stable yard to see the landau hitched up, her trunks strapped to the back, one of the grooms at the horses’ heads.
Leaning out the stable door, John said, ‘I’ll be ready to drive you to the posting inn in a minute, miss. Just as soon as I help the grooms carry that great hulking bird up to the library.’
Chapter Nineteen
Three weeks later, Hugh set his horse towards the Abbey at a trot. One of the grooms, returning from the village past the north meadow where he was supervising the drainage work, had mentioned a letter had been delivered for him.
Though he told himself that it was most unlikely the missive came from Olivia Overton, he knew he wouldn’t be able to wait until nightfall to find out.
She’d left without a word—not that her silent exit had surprised him. What other words were there to say, after all? And though he did hope she might pen him a note, just to inform him she’d arrived safely back at her friend’s house in London, that was probably asking too much as well. After he’d tendered her a proposal and then revoked it—even though he’d done so for her own good—then offered her the funds to return to her former life—an offer she’d taken as an insult, rather than the testament to his affection and regard he’d intended—she probably wanted nothing further to do with him. Undoubtedly, she was still furious with him for sending the girls away.
In time, she would recover. At least he’d let her go before he’d roped her into a union where any misery he caused her could be permanent.
Which was why he had not sought her out to say goodbye. He hadn’t been sure his resolve wouldn’t have cracked, driving him to promise her whatever she wanted to keep her at Somers Abbey.
Arriving at the stable yard, he jumped down from the saddle and tossed the mare’s reins to the groom who came running up. ‘Rub her down and give her some water. I’ll be riding out again shortly.’
Nodding to the groom’s salute, he walked briskly to the entrance, calling for Mansfield as he crossed the threshold. When the old man appeared, he said, ‘Thomas said there was a letter for me?’
‘Yes, sir. I put it on your desk in the library.’
He didn’t care that Mansfield stared as he took the steps up two at a time.
But, as he’d feared, the handwriting on the missive that sat on his desk was Lady Laversby’s.
Foolish to feel desolation spiral in his gut over a letter from the wrong sender.
At least he knew his wards had safely arrived. Gritting his teeth to move past the pain, he broke the seal and began reading.
Though the girls missed him, his aunt wrote, they were settling in well and she was making sure they received lots of cuddling and coddling. Cook had been instructed to make all their favourite treats, she’d promised them a lovely Engli
sh dog to replace the nasty parrot they’d left behind and she was certain they were all going to get on splendidly.
Smiling faintly, he remembered Elizabeth’s gasp of awe when she’d first seen Pierre in the Bristol market, mimicking the voices of the passers-by. How Sophie had jumped up and down and clapped her hands when he finally agreed to purchase the parrot.
And how Olivia—now that she was safely far away, he would call her Olivia—had teased and cajoled, admiring the parrot’s beauty, urging him to see how good it would be for the girls to have this feathered friend to remind them of home—until Somers Abbey became home.
But the girls would forget him, too. The sting of leaving Somers Abbey would fade into the delight of living with a lady who could provide the host of material benefits and motherly guidance he could not. Who would bring them up to be acquainted with other young ladies of their class, introduce them to other society leaders who would assist Lady Laversby in making sure their eventual debuts were successful and guide them to choose perfect husbands.
No, as much as he’d felt new holes being carved in his chest as he watched his great-aunt’s carriage carry them away, he knew his duty as their guardian was to place them in a situation that was best for them.
Not where it was best for him.
And he would visit them, as he’d promised Elizabeth as he walked her to Lady Laversby’s carriage. As soon as he thought he could do so without giving in to the urge to tell his great-aunt he’d changed his mind and was taking them back.
Putting her letter in the drawer, he swiped a hand over his face. He’d thought he’d experienced the worst a man could suffer when he lost Drew and Lydia. But this wasn’t much easier.
His gaze flitted to the whisky bottle on the sideboard. Thus far, he’d resisted the urge to find oblivion at the bottom of a glass, making himself sip the fiery liquid slowly as he sat at night in the dimness of a library lit only by the fire in the grate, most of the dinner Cook had sent up to tempt him sitting untouched on the tray. Food didn’t appeal and he tried his best not to return to the Abbey until the summer sky had fallen completely black, the winking stars guiding him home. Not returning until he was as exhausted as he could make himself after taking up a shovel to help with digging the drainage ditches, or pollarding row after row in the willow groves, heaving the heavy limbs into the wagons.
The Tempting of the Governess Page 21