by Laura Martin
‘Coats on,’ she said, taking her cloak from a hook by the door. One of the maids had worked some magic on it, cleaning off the worst of the mud after her fall on the drive the day before.
‘If we catch a fever, our uncle will not be pleased,’ Priscilla muttered. At nine years old she was the more difficult of the two sisters. She was quiet but resentful, objecting to everything Selina did for no good reason. Selina knew it would take time, time to show the young girl she could be trusted, that she wasn’t going to disappear, that she was eager to help shape Priscilla’s future. Theodosia was more cheerful and accepting, although seemed to have limitless energy and a rather short attention span.
Selina peered out of the front door, smiling brightly as she regarded the sky.
‘Look, even the drizzle has stopped. I think I can even see a patch of blue sky.’
Priscilla looked at the grey clouds dubiously, but said no more.
‘Will you teach us to ride?’ Theodosia asked. ‘Mama never let us and Father was far too busy to arrange it. I’d love to have a horse of my own.’ Something caught her eye and the direction of her thoughts spiralled off at a tangent. ‘Archery...you promised you would teach us to shoot a bow and arrow. Can we? Will you teach us now? Please say yes.’
Priscilla snorted. ‘She’s a governess, Thea, not a soldier.’
‘But she promised.’
‘People promise things all the time.’
Selina watched as the little girl bit her lip, digesting this harsh lesson from her sister.
‘Did your father have a bow and arrows, Theodosia?’ Selina focused her attention on the younger of the sisters for a moment.
‘Yes. They’re in the back of the stables. He has one of those big target things as well.’ A note of hope crept into her voice. ‘Does that mean you’ll teach us?’
‘A promise is a promise,’ Selina said.
Theodosia slipped her little hand into Selina’s and squeezed it softly. She was only there for an instant, but Selina knew it was a start, the first building block of the relationship she would have to forge with these two grieving young girls.
* * *
‘It’s dirty,’ Priscilla observed as Selina hauled the target out of the corner of the stables. ‘And there are spider’s webs all over it.’
‘A little bit of dirt never hurt anyone.’
‘Try telling that to all the people who died of the bubonic plague,’ Priscilla muttered.
‘That was rats. This is mud.’
Ignoring her screaming muscles, Selina hauled the heavy target out on to the lawn at the back of the house. She set it down, tweaking its position until she was happy, then returned to the stables for the bow and quiver of arrows. Theodosia danced around her feet, excitedly chattering, but Priscilla remained where she was, watching the proceedings with the haughty disdain of a nine-year-old.
‘The bow is heavy,’ Selina said, weighing the weapon in her hands. ‘It is made for someone much bigger than you, so don’t be disappointed if you can’t get much movement.’
‘I’m strong,’ Theodosia said. ‘I eat all my vegetables.’
Priscilla snorted, earning her a black look from her younger sister.
‘I eat most of my vegetables,’ she corrected herself.
‘I’ll let you into a secret,’ Selina whispered. ‘I never eat my carrots and I can’t stand cabbage.’
Theodosia giggled.
‘Have you ever tried archery before?’
‘No, but I’m sure I’ll be very good at it.’
‘Have you, Miss Salinger?’ Priscilla challenged her. ‘It’s a strange skill for a governess. And if you don’t know how to shoot a bow then you shouldn’t be teaching us.’
Silently Selina weighed the bow, plucking the string to feel the tension. She selected an arrow, checking the point and the tail, balancing it in her fingers before positioning it against the bowstring. Taking her time, she adjusted her stance, raised the bow and released the arrow, sending it in a perfect line towards the target. It sank into the material with a satisfying thunk, not quite in the centre of the bullseye, but not far off.
The two girls looked at her with a mixture of awe and disbelief.
‘Do it again,’ Theodosia whispered.
Selina selected another arrow, repeated all the preparatory steps before sending it flying through the air to the target. Another hit, another excited squeal from Theodosia.
‘Where did you learn to do that?’ Priscilla asked.
‘My father taught me.’
‘I told you,’ Theodosia rounded on her sister. ‘I told you she would teach us.’
‘Come here.’ Selina watched as Theodosia crowded close, but Priscilla hung back, even though there was a spark of curiosity in her eyes. The older girl didn’t want to be intrigued, didn’t want to be engaged.
There’s no rush, Selina told herself. It could take weeks to build up the necessary trust, weeks that would be well spent. For now she had to just keep Priscilla interested, keep her from closing off entirely, and hopefully she would slowly start to allow herself to have fun.
‘When you hold a bow the most important thing is safety,’ Selina said, motioning to the arrows by their feet. ‘These are deadly weapons, and you need to treat them with respect at all times.’
* * *
Matthew turned the page on the report he was reading, about to delve into the latest accounts for the cargo ships that had recently docked in London. As his eyes skimmed across the first line a squeal of delight from outside made him pause. Nine weeks he’d been in charge of his two nieces and in that time he’d not heard them laugh, let alone squeal with happiness.
Resolutely he turned back to the report, but this time he only managed the first three words before another exclamation of awe came to his ears. Intrigued, he stood, crossing to the window. He expected to see the girls and Miss Salinger engaged in a game of some sort. Perhaps something that involved chasing or hiding. Hardly the most educational of pastimes, but he understood the need for fresh air and exercise to break up the school day.
As he looked out the window he nearly choked on the air he was breathing. Standing on the lawn was Miss Salinger, her arms wrapped around little Theodosia as she showed her how to hold a bow. He watched as the young girl drew back the bowstring, frowning with the difficulty of the task, and loosed an arrow. To her credit it did sail through the air, flying a few feet before embedding itself into the ground a fair distance away from the target.
For a moment his eyes focused on the figure of Miss Salinger, lingering just a little too long, before he stood and hurried out of his study. Someone had to stop them. Archery was dangerous, not to be trifled with by amateurs and certainly not to be taught to children by someone who didn’t know what they were doing.
Half-marching, half-running, he made it across the lawn in less than a minute, coming up behind the impromptu archery lesson.
‘Breathe in and draw the bow,’ Miss Salinger was saying to Theodosia, helping the young girl to pull back the bowstring. ‘Breathe out, focus on the target and then release.’
‘Stop,’ he shouted, seeing his niece’s quivering hand as she strained to keep the bowstring taut. He was sure she would drop her aim and shoot herself in the foot.
At his shout Theodosia jumped, half-turning and pulling Miss Salinger off balance at the same time. Matthew saw the governess’s eyes widen in horror as she started slipping, losing her grip on the bow. The arrow flew loose, travelling in an arc in his direction. Matthew tried to jump back, but was too slow, and with a bellow of pain he saw the arrow embed itself in his boot.
For a moment no one moved. Then everyone moved at once. Miss Salinger set the bow down carefully, a good few paces from the arrows. Then she moved forward. Matthew assumed she was coming to his aid and was surprised to see her crouch down in front of Theodosia.
‘Lord Westcroft is fine,’ she said, wiping the young girl’s hair from her face. ‘It was an accident, nothing more, and his fault, not yours.’
His fault?
He saw his little niece nod, her face pale, and was surprised when Miss Salinger brought the young girl in for an embrace.
‘Come to your sister, Priscilla,’ Miss Salinger said softly. ‘Take her hand while I see to Lord Westcroft.’
Only once she was convinced the children were safe did she move towards him.
‘Thank you for your swift attention,’ he murmured.
‘Sarcasm doesn’t become you,’ she said breezily, as if she hadn’t just shot him in the foot. He was sure she should be a little more contrite, a little more obsequious.
‘You just shot me in the foot.’
‘The arrow barely had any force behind it.’
‘You still shot me in the foot.’
‘And I’m sure it hasn’t even penetrated your foot.’
He looked at her with disbelief.
‘Luck and nothing more,’ he ground out.
‘I’m sure you’ve had much worse done to you in the past.’
‘That is not the point.’ He couldn’t quite believe he was getting a lesson in stoicism from an English governess.
‘You shouldn’t have shouted,’ she said resolutely. ‘Come, girls, let us get your guardian inside.’
‘Shouldn’t we pull the arrow out?’ Theodosia was peering over Miss Salinger’s shoulder with interest.
The governess bit her lip, looking down at the foot-long arrow sticking out of his boot.
‘Has it gone through the leather? Do you feel pain?’
‘Only a little.’
‘I worry if I pull it out here then it might begin to bleed in your boot,’ she said, her voice softening. He saw the concern in her eyes and realised her brisk manner before had been mostly to put the girls at ease.
‘If you give me your arm, I can lean on you back to the house. We can pull it out there,’ Matthew said.
He expected her to offer the slender arm that was currently hidden under the thick folds of her cloak. Instead she slipped her whole body under his arm, straightening up so he could rest his weight on her shoulders. It was an intimate position, even with the thick layers that separated them, and Matthew could feel the heat of her body. Something began to stir inside him, something long suppressed and primal.
‘You lead the way, girls,’ Miss Salinger said, motioning for them to go first.
As he walked he felt the sharp point of the arrow grinding against something in his foot. He clenched his jaw, picking up the pace in a bid to get back to the house quicker. They entered through the front door, held open by a surprised Mrs Fellows, her face settling back into a disapproving frown when she saw no one was seriously injured.
‘Into my study,’ Matthew instructed, and their little party made their way into the oppressive room that functioned as a private study. Miss Salinger helped him ease down into one of the armchairs and immediately sank down to her knees in front of him.
‘We will need clean hot water and something to bind the wound,’ she instructed Mrs Fellows who had followed them into the room.
The old housekeeper shuffled out, muttering something unintelligible under her breath.
‘Perhaps you could run down to the kitchens, girls,’ Miss Salinger said over her shoulder. ‘Lord Westcroft will want something sweet after we’ve seen to his injury. Ask Cook to prepare something.’
‘You think of everything, don’t you?’ he said quietly as the two girls reluctantly left the room. Although he was still miffed about the arrow in his foot, he found his main emotion was awe at how she was handling Priscilla and Theodosia in a situation where there could quite easily have been hysterics.
‘Shall I just pull it out?’ she asked, looking up at him from under her long, dark eyelashes. He knew it wasn’t meant to be sensual, that she wasn’t trying to be seductive, but the look sent the blood pounding round his body.
He nodded, gripping the arms of the chair. She pulled, putting her whole body behind the action, and Matthew felt the tip of the arrow shift in his foot, but after that there was no more movement.
She bit her lip again, a gesture that was fast becoming familiar, as was his reaction to the innocent but provocative expression.
‘Allow me,’ he said, finding the proximity of his governess more difficult to deal with than the pain in his foot.
Gripping the arrow, he pulled, feeling it slide from his foot and through the leather of his boot.
‘Well done,’ Miss Salinger said, as if she were congratulating a ten-year-old on her letters. ‘Now I’ll take off your boot and we can see the damage.’
Gently his fingers tugged at the leather, slipping off the boot and the sock underneath. Matthew glanced down, seeing the trickle of blood from the thankfully small wound. He flexed his toes, feeling a sharp stab of pain, but there seemed to be no impairment to his movements.
‘I’m sorry I...’ Miss Salinger muttered.
Matthew turned his attention to her, saw the pallor on her cheeks, the slightly glazed look in her eyes, and sprang from his chair just in time to catch her before she collapsed to the floor.
She was heavy in his arms, her body completely limp, and it took him a few seconds to lower her gently to the floor.
‘What have you done to Miss Salinger?’ Theodosia shouted as she reappeared at the door. The little girl launched herself at him, fists raised, in a show of temper Matthew hadn’t realised she possessed.
‘She’s fainted. She’s fainted,’ he repeated, waiting for the words to sink in. Theodosia slumped back, still looking at him with a frown.
‘Arrows shot at the master, governesses swooning all over the place. What is this house coming to?’ Mrs Fellows muttered as she came back into the room, clutching a little bottle in her hand. She brushed Matthew aside and wave the bottle under Miss Salinger’s nose.
He watched as, like magic, the governess’s eyes fluttered open.
‘Oh, I’m so sorry,’ she said, a hand flying to her mouth as she tried to sit up.
‘Stay there,’ he instructed her. The sharp tone of his voice was enough to draw dark looks from all the other occupants of the room. ‘You don’t want to faint again.’
Despite his words Miss Salinger wriggled up on to her bottom, closing her eyes momentarily as she adjusted to her new position. Theodosia stepped forward, looking as if she were about to throw herself protectively on top of her new governess.
‘Everyone out,’ he ordered. ‘Mrs Fellows, take the girls up to the nursery.’
‘But...’ Theodosia protested.
‘No arguments. Upstairs. Now.’
A shuffling of feet followed and after a minute he was left alone with Miss Salinger.
‘I’m sorry for fainting,’ she said, looking embarrassed. ‘I’ve never been very good with the sight of blood.’
She looked young sitting on the floor and he realised she couldn’t be much more than twenty despite her air of authority with the children.
Silently he stood, hobbling over to where Mrs Fellows had set down the water and strips of cloth for a bandage. Carefully he cleaned the wound in his foot. It was just over half an inch deep, but seemed to have missed all the important areas. Only once it was properly dressed did he turn back to Miss Salinger.
She was struggling to her feet and for a moment he thought she was about to swoon again. He darted back across the room, catching her arm.
‘Thank you,’ she said softly and, for the first time, looked him properly in the eye, holding his gaze for a long few seconds. Her eyes were dark green, wide and earnest, eyes a man could get lost in.
He had the urge to pull her closer to him, to cover those full lips with his own, to press her body to his. For a mom
ent he thought he saw her sway towards him, thought her lips parted ever so slightly, but then she straightened and stepped back, her cheeks flushing and her eyes casting down to the floor.
‘I am sorry,’ she said. ‘For shooting you.’
He wanted to murmur that no real damage had been done, that accidents happen, to pull her back into his arms, but that way ruination lay. She was a governess, his employee, someone he should safeguard not seduce.
‘You should never have put the children in danger,’ he said abruptly.
Miss Salinger looked up at him in surprise and it took her a few seconds to catch up with this change in his manner.
‘Before you came out we were perfectly safe,’ she said quietly and calmly. ‘Any fool knows not to creep up on someone with a loaded weapon and then shout out just as they are about to loose an arrow.’
‘Priscilla and Theodosia should be learning mathematics, history and music, not how to kill someone with a deadly weapon.’ He realised how stuffy he sounded, but felt his defences slamming down and couldn’t help himself.
‘They are children. They cannot be expected to work every waking moment of the day. They need fresh air, fun, something to fill their lives with joy.’ She paused, taking a deep breath. ‘Please excuse me, my lord, I need to get back to my charges.’ She swept from the room, turning back only when she was safely beyond the door. ‘Perhaps you could find time in your schedule to reassure Theodosia that you are not angry with her. That she did nothing wrong.’
Before he could answer she had disappeared into the darkness of the hallway, leaving him feeling unsettled.
Chapter Four
Selina turned back to the chalk board, ensuring neither of the girls could see her expression, and screwed her face into a silent scream. Four days she’d been at Manresa House. Four days of Priscilla’s sad, defiant little face watching her every move as if willing her to give up and go away. She needed a new technique, something to entice the little girl out of her protective shell, something to make her engage and let go of some of the anger she carried with her.