*****
Vanessa woke in the night. She sat up as brilliant flashes of lightning appeared around the edge of the curtains. Despite sleeping naked, she was too hot, and her throat felt dry. She climbed out of bed and poured herself a glass of water from the jug on the dresser. Sipping it, she walked to the window. Heavy rain had begun to batter against the glass. Sweeping aside the curtain, she saw water on the windowsill. As she reached out to close the window, a muffled cry carried to her on the wind. She stilled, listening between claps of thunder, and it came again.
Blythe’s room was almost directly below hers. Could it be the child? She had seen Lord Falconbridge departing in the carriage earlier. It was possible he had not yet returned.
Vanessa hesitated then shrugged into her dressing gown, tying it tightly. She ran down the passage and down the stairs. Reaching Blythe’s floor, she opened her door and peered inside.
A lightning flash highlighted Blythe’s small heaving body as she sat up in bed. Another clap of thunder sounded, and the child moaned with fear.
“My dear.” Vanessa hurried over to close the window. She pulled it shut and drew the curtains to cover it. She went back to Blythe. “It’s only a summer storm.”
“I don’t like storms,” Blythe sobbed.
Vanessa gathered her in her arms and patted her. “Lightning and thunder won’t hurt you; I promise. Why they bring the rain, and rain replenishes the streams for the fish and makes the plants grow in the garden. You like the birds to have water to drink and bathe in, don’t you?”
“Y … yes.”
She smoothed the child’s hair away from her face. “Storms seem frightening, but they cannot hurt us here snug in our beds. Lie down and close your eyes. When you wake in the morning, it will be gone.”
“Will you stay with me awhile, Miss Ashley? Just until I’m asleep?”
“Of course I will. Let me fluff your pillows. My mother did this for me. Is that better?”
“Thank you.” Blythe lay back and shut her eyes. She looked so delicate; the sight tore at Vanessa’s heart.
“I’ll turn down the lamp and sit in this chair by the bed, shall I?”
“Yes, please, Miss Ashley,” Blythe said in a small voice.
Vanessa curled up in the floral chintz-covered chair. The storm appeared to be abating at last. She rested her head against the chair back and watched the small form on the bed. After a couple of restless turns, Blythe settled down. She seemed to sleep.
Deciding to stay for a while to make sure, she closed her eyes.
When a hand shook her shoulder, she woke with a start, her heart pounding. “Who is it?”
“Shush.” It was shadowy in the room, but there was enough light from the lamp in the hall for her to see who it was.
Lord Falconbridge’s whisper came out of the shadows. “You were sleeping, Miss Ashley. I just returned home and thought I’d look in on Blythe. And see what I found? I suspect you don’t like your bed.”
Vanessa rose, discomfited by her braided hair, and worse, she wore nothing under her dressing gown.
“I’ll turn up the lamp.” Lord Falconbridge moved to the table.
“Oh, no, please don’t,” Vanessa begged in an anguished tone. Her belt had come loose, and a flash of pale thigh showed whenever she moved.
“It won’t wake Blythe now. See how deeply she sleeps?”
“It’s not that. I’m … not dressed.”
“Oh?” He sounded far too interested, and she flushed. “You haven’t taken to wandering the house naked, I trust.”
She felt sure his eyes twinkled with amusement and was glad she couldn’t see them. “We had a storm earlier. It woke me, and when I was closing my window, I heard Blythe crying and came down. I promised to stay with her until she fell asleep.”
His lordship didn’t immediately reply. When he did, the amused tone had vanished. “I’m grateful to you. Blythe has always been frightened of lightning and thunder.”
Vanessa clutched the thin material around her. She shoved her feet into her slippers. “I’ll return to my room now, my lord. If you’ll excuse me.”
“You have my profound thanks, Miss Ashley.” He sat down in the chair she’d vacated and crossed his legs. “There’s no need to rise so early. I’ll alert Mrs. Royce that you’ll be late for breakfast.”
“That’s not necessary, my lord.”
“See how you feel in the morning.”
“Thank you.” She opened the door, aware that the light shining in from the hall revealed her dishabille. “Good night, my lord.”
“Good night, Miss Ashley.”
She tiptoed along the passage to the stairs. Did his lordship intend to remain there until the servants rose at six? She suspected he might. Not all fathers involved themselves in parenting or were close to their children. It must be difficult for his lordship to reconcile his love of his daughter with his passion for butterflies, which resulted in long trips to the Amazon.
Chapter Four
Lord Falconbridge came better prepared for his next lesson. He drew beautiful botanical pictures and talked about cross-pollination, which led neatly into his preferred interest in insects when he spoke of how the bees carried pollen to their hives, and how butterflies tasted through their feet. Vanessa admired his artistic skill when drawing plants and butterflies, but she hated to see those beautiful creatures pinned beneath glass. As he talked, she thought about his marriage. Why had his wife left? Had she begun to feel like a butterfly pinned under glass?
Exploring the many paintings in the house, Vanessa had discovered Lady Falconbridge’s portrait hanging in the gallery. Might the artist have succeeded in capturing something of his subject’s mood? Lady Falconbridge’s eyes looked troubled. Had she really been this exquisite? Her creamy-skinned shoulders looked flawless, her eyes the same brilliant emerald green as the jewels at her throat, and her nose might have been carved in marble by the hand of a Grecian master. The gown she wore was exceedingly feminine, trimmed with dainty lace, ribbons, and bows.
Surprised by her curiosity and a little embarrassed, Vanessa decided not to mention that she’d seen it.
“Are you paying attention, Miss Ashley?” Lord Falconbridge held up a picture of a plant stamen.
“Yes, my lord.”
“I may set a test.”
Vanessa laughed, and Blythe joined in.
Lord Falconbridge began packing up his books.
“Father, can I go riding again?”
As the conversation batted back and forth between them, Vanessa learned that Blythe had not ridden this summer because she’d been quite ill with a chest complaint. The doctor had advised her to avoid strenuous exercise. Her illness would account for the effort Mrs. Royce took to get her to eat properly.
“But that was ages ago, Father,” Blythe pleaded.
His expression softened. “I suppose you look well enough now.”
Blythe clapped her hands. “You’ll ride with us, won’t you, Miss Ashley?”
Vanessa was pleased to see Blythe so enthusiastic and took a moment to take in her question.
“Do you ride, Miss Ashley?” His lordship asked.
“I have ridden though I’m not accomplished in the country pursuit.” She did not excel at dancing either, although she loved it.
His brows rose. “If you can ride that bicycle of yours, you can stay on a horse.”
“Bicycles don’t bite, my lord.”
Blythe chortled. “Our horses don’t bite, Miss Ashley.”
Vanessa gave in. “Very well. As long as I’m not required to jump hedges. Or ride to hounds.”
His lordship’s lip quirked. “We won’t subject you or the horse to that.”
Was he laughing at her? Vanessa bowed her head over her notes to hide the warmth in her cheeks. She felt a prickle of annoyance at being made to feel inept. Surely, she was not required to ride as well as teach her pupil.
“I’ll take you both riding tomorrow. We’ll see what you c
an do. Did you bring a riding outfit?”
“Yes.” She had only the divided skirt she wore on the bicycle. It would have to do, although it was a horrid shade of pea-green.
“Blythe, take Miss Ashley to the stables and show her the horses. Lovel can pick one out for her to ride.”
Blythe smiled, her eyes dancing. “Yes, Father.”
“And be sure to tell him Miss Ashley cannot ride.”
“I believe I can speak for myself, Lord Falconbridge,” Vanessa said, failing to disguise her annoyance, which she suspected had more to do with her own shortcomings.
“I’m merely considering your safety, Miss Ashley,” his lordship said mildly, as if she was being difficult.
Vanessa spluttered and fell silent. His rational manner made her appear unreasonable, and left her unable to protest. If she wasn’t a lowly servant, she might fare better, but she doubted it.
*****
Blythe fetched a carrot from the kitchen and led Vanessa past a tennis court to the stable block at the rear of the house.
“Hello, Jim.” Blythe called to a rangy young stable boy who was scrubbing the cobbles in the stable yard. “This is Miss Ashley, my new governess.”
He put down his brush and straightened to remove his hat, holding it against his chest. “Miss Blythe. Miss Ashley.”
Vanessa smiled. “Nice to meet you, Jim.”
The dark-haired groom she’d seen leading the horse emerged from the stables, a leather brace in his hands. “Miss Blythe.”
“Lovel, this is Miss Ashley.”
Lovel inclined his head in a respectful gesture, but not before Vanessa caught the appraising glance from his dark eyes. He had a Romani name, and his looks confirmed it. His brown skin was smooth over high cheekbones and jet-black hair grew low over his cheeks, his sensual mouth full-lipped below a bushy moustache.
“Planning to ride today, Miss Blythe?”
“Not today. Father will ride with us tomorrow,” Blythe said. “He’d like you to choose a horse for Miss Ashley.”
“A gentle horse, if you please,” Vanessa said. “We didn’t ride often in Cornwall.”
“Cornish, are ye? Don’t have the accent.”
“No, neither I nor my parents were born there.” Vanessa didn’t resent his curiosity, after all, she was hired help herself, but there was something about his manner, which troubled her.
Lovel’s assessing black-eyed gaze lingered too long on her body. She shifted uncomfortably before he turned towards a stall. “Flora might be a good choice.”
“Oh, yes, Flora is perfect,” Blythe said displaying far more animation than Vanessa had seen before. They followed the big man over to a stall where a roan tossed her head and whickered.
Vanessa watched Lovel handle the horse. Under his gentle, sure touch, the horse obeyed without question. He led her out into the enclosure for Vanessa to meet.
Relieved the horse was small in stature, Vanessa patted the mare’s nose. “I think you’ll do very nicely, Flora.”
Lovel put the horse back in her stall. He tugged his forelock, but the roguish expression in his dark eyes made a mockery of the gesture. “Now if you’ll excuse me, ladies. I have my work to do.” He picked up a harness from the workbench. Jiggling it in his big hands, he strode away.
Blythe walked over to a stall. “Meet my horse, Buttercup.” She fed the carrot to a grey with a white patch on her nose.
“What a pretty horse,” Vanessa said.
“She’s a beauty, aren’t you, Buttercup?” Blythe put her arms around the horse’s neck.
Leaving the stable yard, Blythe was infused with energy. “Shall we walk through the woods?”
His lordship’s warning rang in Vanessa’s head. “Not today.”
Blythe danced over the grass like a puppy released from its leash. “Let’s not go back to the house yet,” she begged. “Would you like to see the rose garden and the fountain?”
Vanessa smiled. “Very well, lead on Macduff.”
They followed a stone path to a wooden seat beneath a rose arbor and sat to enjoy the soothing sounds of water cascading into a pool from a marble lady’s upheld urn.
“Why did you leave your home in Cornwall?” Blythe asked.
“I had to earn my living, and your father kindly offered me the position.”
“Did you always wish to be a governess?”
“Not exactly. I did wish to have a profession and put my education to good use. Do you know, Blythe, women can study at Oxford University, although they aren’t able to gain a degree as yet. I expect that to change during your lifetime.”
Blythe’s eyes widened. “I would like to study at Oxford.”
“That’s a very admirable goal. You must work hard at your lessons to achieve it. I’ll set you a task. You can choose a famous woman to study. We’ll search your father’s library for information.”
Blythe picked a rosehip and examined it. “How does a lady become famous?”
“Excelling at some achievement. Well, let’s see. Mary Kingsley is an explorer. She traveled to Africa much as your father does. Marie Curie is a scientist. Florence Nightingale and Mary Seacole reformed nursing. Lilian Murray is the first woman dentist. Marianne North was an artist who traveled the world and painted.”
“Can I study two of them?”
“Yes, if you like.”
“Then I’ll pick Marie Curie and Mary Kingsley. I should like to be both a scientist and an explorer like Father.” She glanced up eagerly. “Here’s Father now.”
Lord Falconbridge came down the steps towards them. Blythe rushed to him. “Father, Miss Ashley is teaching me about famous women explorers and scientists. I should like to go to Oxford and study. Do you think I could?”
His lordship’s eyes rested on Vanessa. “We shall have to see, Blythe. You have selected a mount?”
“Thank you, yes.” Vanessa hoped his lordship approved of her modern teaching methods. “A small, well-mannered beast.”
“We’ll have you riding as well as Blythe in no time.” His lordship looked alarmingly purposeful.
Vanessa very much doubted it but made no reply.
“You do like horses, don’t you, Miss Ashley?” Blythe sounded incredulous that anyone wouldn’t.
“I like all animals.” Vanessa recalled uneasily she’d been bitten on the arm by a bad-tempered pony as a child.
With a feather-light tap on Blythe’s head, Lord Falconbridge walked in the direction of the stables. Vanessa watched him, enjoying his easy stride. The man was inherently graceful.
A sharp breeze stirred the branches and sprayed a fine mist from the fountain into the air as the day turned unseasonably cool.
“I think we should return to the house.” Vanessa glanced at Blythe, who had on only her thin dress and smock. She’d begun rubbing her arms. “Let’s walk briskly, shall we?” The last thing she wanted was for the child to fall sick.
In the schoolroom, Vanessa went straight to the window and pulled back the curtains to let in the light. “Why are all the curtains only partly open?” she asked Blythe.
“Mrs. Royce is afraid the sun will fade the carpets.”
“I don’t think she’ll mind in here, do you?”
Blythe shook her head then raised it into a warm shaft of sunlight that came to rest on her face and brightened all the colors in the room.
They settled down to begin the new book just as Agnes brought the tea things in.
Blythe nibbled a crumpet. “Don’t tell Father, but we have fairies in the garden,” she said between bites, the honey dribbling onto her chin. Trusting violet eyes met Vanessa’s.
“There are?” Vanessa smiled, delighted that Blythe confided in her.
“Sometimes, very late at night when I can’t sleep, I sit at the window and watch the pair of dancing lights through the trees. They always go to the folly. I’d love to meet them.”
“Why do you think they’re fairies, Blythe?”
“Miss Lillicrop felt the l
ights must be them when I asked her.”
“But she didn’t say she saw them?” She stroked the prickle of unease tickling her nape.
“Not exactly, she showed me pictures of fairies though. One night I will go.”
Vanessa leaned over and touched the girl’s arm. “Promise me you won’t.”
Blythe tilted her head. “Why not? Fairies won’t hurt you, you know.”
Putting down her teacup, Vanessa turned to the book, keeping her voice casual. “Your father wouldn’t like it. If I found out you went there at night alone, I would be compelled to inform him.”
Blythe gasped. “Oh, no. Promise you won’t tell him I watch them from my window.”
“We’ll make an agreement, shall we? I won’t tell him if you promise to come and collect me before you go roaming the gardens.” Once Blythe agreed, Vanessa opened the book to read, hoping she would soon forget all about the lights in the garden. If it was a lovers’ tryst, it seemed likely they’d stop meeting there when the weather grew colder.
Vanessa distracted Blythe with a discussion of books, determined to discover more about the mysterious lights herself, as soon as she could.
The next day, having a few moments to spare before lessons began, Vanessa slipped down through the gardens. She found the head gardener in the rose garden deadheading spent roses.
She cleared her throat, and the man straightened and removed his cap to reveal grizzled brown hair. “Hello. I’m Miss Ashley, the new governess. I’ve been admiring the gardens. They are glorious.”
“Thompson, miss.” He nodded. “Thank you, we take great pride in ’em.”
“Someone carries a lantern through the gardens during the night, Thompson. I wondered if it might be you or your men. Perhaps a spade had been forgotten?”
He frowned and reached down to pick up the spade resting against the wall. “We take good care of our tools, miss. They’re valuable implements. See the fine workmanship.” He ran his hand lovingly down the handle. “Beech that is; no way we’d leave it out in all weathers. No, indeed, miss. You’re on the wrong track there.”
The Folly at Falconbridge Hall Page 4