A Very Unusual Governess

by Sylvia Andrew

  Edward studied the picture in his hand and wondered what Octavia Petrie’s picture was doing on Mrs Carstairs’s table, next to that of her beloved little daughter. He stood there for some minutes without moving. The room was cold, but he didn’t feel it. Pip’s words were going round in his mind…

  She wasn’t looking for a post when she first arrived…she seemed surprised to find us here…if she was hoping to be our governess she’d have known, wouldn’t she?…but she knew our name…

  Was this why Octavia Petrie had been so evasive about her background? He wouldn’t have known anything about her family if he hadn’t eavesdropped when she was talking to Pip. The keenly analytical mind that had made Edward such a success in the banking world was beginning to work. Was it possible that Octavia Petrie was Mrs Carstairs’s mysterious niece? If Pip was right, she could well have come to Wychford merely to look it over, and their early arrival had taken her by surprise. But in that case why hadn’t she simply explained? He now concentrated hard on that first interview. The more of it he remembered, the clearer it became that she had not come with the intention of working for him. No, by God, she wasn’t any sort of governess! She had never said she was. The mistake had been his. But why had she not corrected him? Why had she embarked on such a mad escapade?

  He shook his head. He had no idea. But one thing was clear even to an idiot like himself. She had pulled the wool over his eyes pretty neatly. Octavia Petrie had made a fool of Edward Barraclough, and had probably enjoyed doing it! What a fine joke it must have seemed to her—the prospect of being employed by her own tenant! No wonder he had seen irony in her eyes, had sensed challenge in her attitude, though none was ever openly expressed. How she must have laughed!

  It must have been a shock to her when she found she was human, after all, when she had found herself caught in the end by something she couldn’t control—little Miss Governess in the grip of straightforward, red-blooded passion. Of course she had fled! She was a fraud! Perhaps she had even introduced her brother to Lisette for her own purposes! He slammed her picture angrily down on the table, kicked the ashes so that they were properly spread, and left the room, locking it firmly behind him. He was finished with the whole business of his late governess! Miss Octavia Petrie was as dead to him as those ashes up there in the room. He had been saved from making one of the biggest mistakes in his life!

  The next day he and Pip left Wychford. Pip made him pause at the bend for a last look. It was a dull day and the house had lost its quirky smile.

  ‘What are you staring at, Pip? Wychford is empty.’

  ‘But it isn’t dead, Edward. I think it looks as if…as if it is waiting.’

  ‘Come!’ he said brusquely. ‘I don’t know what it could be waiting for. We’re most unlikely to come back again.’

  ‘Oh, look!’

  ‘What is it now?’ asked Edward a little testily.

  ‘Didn’t you see? The house smiled again!’

  ‘Philippa, if you talk very much like that you will be thought mad. And your aunt will blame me for it! There are some stray patches of sunshine about. It was probably one of those hitting the windows. Now, no more talk of the house—it’s London for us, midget.’

  Edward decided he had one last duty before he finally put Octavia Petrie and her brother out of his mind. Lisette had clearly been very interested in Harry Petrie, and he owed it to her to learn a little more about the fellow, just in case he ever surfaced again. If he was the fortune-hunter Julia thought him, then he would certainly try to meet Lisette in London. The landlord had said he had the look of a soldier. So Edward selected one of the biggest gossips at the Horse Guards, a man for whom he had done a favour or two in the past, and went along to see him. Sir Charles said he would be delighted to assist. ‘Petrie? Petrie…Let me think…’

  ‘His brother Stephen was killed at Waterloo. Does that help?’

  ‘Not much. Have you any idea how many were killed at Waterloo? But, wait! Petrie is the family name of the Warnhams. It’s just possible that he’s related to one of them…Leave it with me a day or two, old fellow. I’ll do what I can.’

  When Edward went back Sir Charles was triumphant. ‘I was right! Lieutenant Harry Petrie of the Guards. That’s probably the one you want. It fits together. He did have a brother who was killed at Waterloo.’

  ‘Related to the Warnhams, you say?’

  Sir Charles brayed with laughter. ‘Related to them? I should say so! Indeed, I should! Young Harry will inherit the Warnham title one day, unless his brother Arthur can produce a son—which doesn’t seem very likely now.’

  ‘You mean…Harry Petrie is the son of an earl?’

  ‘Exactly! The family is quite a large one—’

  ‘Eight of them,’ murmured Edward.

  ‘What’s that? Seven, dear chap. One of ’em died at Waterloo, remember. Now there are only two sons, the rest are daughters.’

  ‘Respectable?’

  ‘Highly! They’re related to half the aristocracy in England. Their mother was a Cavendish, their paternal grandmother a Ponsonby, and, of the five daughters, one is married to the Duke of Monteith, another is the Marchioness of Rochford, a third married abroad—a French Count, I think…I forget the other, but it’s equally respectable. Warnham’s youngest daughter is the only one not married. She was one of the toasts of the Season a few years back, but she didn’t fancy any of us. Pity. She was rich, pretty, well connected. She’d have been a prize for some lucky man. A cool customer, though. Hard to please.’

  ‘Was she, indeed?’ asked Edward.

  ‘Oh, yes! Lady Octavia’s heart would never rule her head! Her mother died just before the end of the Season, and she never came back to London, but I’d have heard if she had married. Of course, she’s worth a good bit more now. Inherited a handsome estate from her godmother, I hear.’

  Edward decided he had heard enough about Octavia for the moment. He said, ‘Do you know anything about Harry Petrie himself? Is he wild? Does he gamble? Drink?’

  ‘No more than the rest of them. Less than most, I’d say. Why are you so interested in young Harry? If you had a daughter I’d say you were pinning your sights on him, but you haven’t. What’s the interest?’

  ‘One of my relatives came across him. I just wanted to check.’

  ‘I hear Petrie is sending in his papers. If he enters the marriage market, you’d better get the girl’s mother to work fast. He’s bound to be one of next Season’s matrimonial prizes!’

  ‘Quite!’ said Edward somewhat sourly. ‘I’m very obliged to you, Stainforth. Let me know when I can do something for you.’

  He went back to North Audley Street relieved, at least, that his niece had not fallen into the hands of a common adventurer. A match with young Harry Petrie ought to be approved by the stickiest of guardians. All the same, he sincerely hoped that Lisette would find someone else. The less he had to do with the Lady Octavia Petrie and her family the better it would suit him! Not just the owner of Wychford, but a star, the daughter of an earl, related to half the best families in the kingdom! What a clever little actress she was! How she must have resented his own and Julia’s treatment of her—but never, not by a word, had she ever given a hint of her elevated rank. Why the devil had she done it? A cheap adventure? My Lady joining the ranks of the common people? Perhaps she had even done it for a wager!

  Whatever it had been, he resented it. He resented the way she had deceived him, the fool she had made of him. He resented his own blindness. But most of all he resented the manner in which she still walked about his mind, taunting him with the memory of the way it had felt to hold her in his arms, filling him with unfulfilled desire. Damn the rich, beautiful, well-connected Lady Octavia Petrie! Why couldn’t he forget her?

  Octavia, too, was forced to postpone consideration of what had happened at Wychford. After taking the precaution of telling Jem put her down at the gates to Ashcombe and waiting till he had driven off again, she had asked the lodgekeeper to take
her up to the main house. Here she was greeted with astonishment by Lady Dorney, and borne off straight up to her room, where she started to change.

  ‘I should think so, too! Wherever did you get that shabby dress, Octavia? And what have you been doing with yourself? You don’t look at all the thing!’

  ‘I…I’ve had a difficult time during the past few days. Mrs Barraclough arrived, and there was really no reason why I should stay. So I came home.’

  ‘What are your plans?’

  ‘There are one or two things I have to do, promises I made, and then we shall see. Tell me what has been happening here. I know that Harry is back—he came to Wychford to find me.’

  ‘So that’s where he went! There was quite a scene here when he first arrived home. At the end of it Harry stormed out without telling anyone where he was going. Tell me, has Arthur always been as overbearing as this?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Octavia briefly. ‘Harry and I could never stand him. I don’t expect Papa said much.’

  ‘Well, no. But it was obvious that he really agreed with Arthur. Poor Rupert! He got quite agitated, especially when Harry left in such a temper. I had to spend the whole of the next day calming him down.’

  Octavia smiled. ‘It was lucky you were at hand. You are so good for him.’

  ‘I’m glad to hear you say that, Octavia. As a matter of fact, your father and I…’

  Octavia took one look at her cousin’s expression and laughed. ‘Don’t tell me!’ she said. ‘Let me guess—you and Papa have decided to get married!’

  ‘Do you mind?’

  ‘Not in the least—it’s what I wanted!’ Octavia put her arms round Lady Dorney and hugged her. ‘I am so pleased for you both!’

  ‘We decided that we enjoyed each other’s company so much that I might as well stay here all the time. It isn’t what you’d call a great romance, Octavia. But at my age, I don’t look for one.’

  ‘Well, I think it very romantic! Papa is a lucky man!’

  ‘Please don’t think this will change things. I hope you will continue to consider this your home, my dear!’

  ‘Thank you. But we shall have to see.’

  After Lady Dorney had gone Octavia sat on the window-seat and stared out. She was truly delighted at this piece of news, but, in spite of what her cousin had said, there would be changes. The new Countess would take her stepdaughter’s place as Ashcombe’s chatelaine, and Octavia herself would at last be free to do as she pleased. Two months ago she would have been over the moon at the idea. But now…She sat for a while, then roused herself to go down and offer her congratulations to her father. Quite a number of things had to be done urgently before she could take time to think about her own future.

  In accordance with her plans, Octavia drove over the next day to see her sister Gussie. Augusta, Duchess of Monteith, was now in her late thirties, but still had remnants of the charm and beauty that had taken London by storm twenty years before, and had enabled her to capture the Season’s most eligible bachelor, the Duke of Monteith. Although the Duke was a large, lazy man with few pretensions to intellect, and Gussie a woman of energy and spirit, the marriage had been reasonably successful. She had presented her lord with four healthy children, the youngest of whom was about to go to Eton, and they now shared an easygoing tolerance towards each other, which satisfied them both. Octavia suspected that neither was wholly faithful, but if they did indulge in any affairs, they were very discreet ones. She had never heard any scandal about them. It was not the sort of marriage that had ever tempted Octavia, however.

  The Duke was out shooting for the day, and the Duchess was at home and feeling bored. She was delighted to see her sister. They gossiped for a while, deciding that their father’s proposed marriage to Lady Dorney was an excellent idea, deploring Arthur’s manners, and exchanging news of other members of the family. Eventually Gussie sat back and said, ‘I’m honoured by this visit of yours, Tavy, but why do I have the impression there’s something behind it?’

  Octavia’s colour rose. She smiled and said, ‘I never could hide things from you! Tell me, are you and Monteith planning to do the Season next year?’

  ‘I expect we shall. We always do. Don’t tell me you want to, too! I thought you’d given up on London? Or has the news about Papa’s marriage changed your mind for you?’

  ‘I—it’s not that, exactly. But I should like to do the Season again, and I don’t want to risk having an invitation from Arthur to stay in town with them.’

  ‘Perfectly understandable. You will naturally stay with us. I should love your company, Tavy! Monteith spends most of his time in London at his clubs, and I hardly see him. This is excellent news!’ Gussie sat back and beamed at Octavia. ‘That’s settled then.’

  ‘Actually, there’s something more. I…I want you to recommend a governess to someone.’ Gussie looked puzzled and Octavia hurried on, ‘I’m very fond of a particular little girl. Her guardians will be looking for a new governess for her, and I want to make sure she has someone suitable, someone kind as well as efficient. Pip is a very special little girl. I remembered that your youngest is about to finish with the schoolroom, and thought of your Miss Cherrifield. Has she already found something else?’

  ‘Not yet. I’ve hung on to her as long as I could! You could tell your friends about Cherry, if you wish. She would be ideal.’

  ‘Er…that’s not possible. I mustn’t appear in the affair. You see, the woman who is most likely to choose a governess for Pip dislikes me. But a recommendation from a Duchess would impress her no end.’

  Gussie looked at her sternly. ‘You’re not up to your tricks, are you? We’re all very fond of Cherry here. I want her to find a good place. She is not to be made part of a game.’

  ‘No, no! When you meet Pip, you’ll see why I want to help. And when you meet her guardian’s wife, you’d know why I couldn’t do it personally! Please do this, Gussie. It’s important to me.’

  The Duchess looked at her youngest sister. ‘I suspect there’s more to this than meets the eye, little sister. Who is Pip? And what is your connection with her?’

  ‘I…Gussie, don’t tell Papa, but for the past two months I was Pip’s governess! We were all at Wychford together.’

  Gussie had never been easy to shock. She sat back and regarded her sister with amusement. ‘A governess! So that’s what you were doing there all that time! I did wonder. But…how on earth did you become a governess? And who is Pip?’

  ‘Philippa Barraclough. There were two Barraclough girls—Pip and her sister Lisette.’

  ‘Are they related to Edward Barraclough, the banker?’

  ‘His nieces.’

  Gussie put on a frown and said, ‘Octavia Petrie, I am beginning to suspect the worst. Explain, if you please!’

  ‘Wh…what do you mean?’

  ‘Edward Barraclough is one of London’s most eligible bachelors. And one of its most hardened. Are you telling me that you’ve been living down at Wychford with such a handsome brute for the past two months, teaching his nieces, and that is all? Impossible!’

  ‘Well, it’s true!’

  ‘What? He employed Lady Octavia Petrie as a governess? Try telling that to the ton!’

  ‘Er…not exactly. He didn’t know who I was. He thought I was a parson’s daughter.’

  Gussie sat up and said, ‘And to think I was feeling bored! ’Fess up, Tavy! I shan’t rest till I’ve heard the lot.’

  Chapter Thirteen

  Octavia gave up and told her sister most of what had happened at Wychford. Not all. When she came to the end Gussie gazed at her sister in astonishment and said, ‘Amazing! I would never have believed it!’

  Then she put her head on one side and said, ‘However, I think there’s a little more to it, isn’t there? I don’t believe you spent all that time in Edward Barraclough’s company without feeling just a tiny bit attracted.’

  Octavia shrugged. ‘You’re right, of course,’ she said a touch bitterly. ‘I did what every gov
erness is said to do. I fell in love with the master.’

  ‘So this is why you want to do the Season? To try to win him? I’m sorry to have to say this, Tavy. You wouldn’t be the first to attempt it, but you’d be the first if you got anywhere near him!’

  ‘I wouldn’t begin to try! For reasons which I refuse to go into, Mr Barraclough despises me.’

  ‘He made love to you and you let him,’ said Gussie, going unerringly to the heart of the matter.

  Octavia nodded. ‘And when he finds out who I really am he’ll add deception to the list of my crimes. No, I don’t think Edward Barraclough will fall for my charms. That’s not the reason I want to do the Season.’

  ‘Then what is it?’

  Octavia leaned forward. ‘I grew to love those girls, Gussie, and you will love them, too. I’ve told you about Pip, but there’s Lisette as well. She’s coming out next spring, and I want to help her, too. Julia Barraclough can’t do nearly as much for the girl as I could. Could you use your influence with Sally Jersey to get vouchers for Almack’s for the Barracloughs?’

  ‘I should imagine Edward Barraclough has more influence with Sally Jersey than I have, my dear,’ said Gussie drily. ‘She has an eye for a fascinating man.’

  ‘But it isn’t the sort to get the patronesses to agree to vouchers! Gussie, Lisette is not quite seventeen, and she’s the loveliest girl I think I’ve ever seen. And just as sweet-natured.’

  Gussie blinked. ‘That’s praise indeed!’

  ‘Harry thinks so, too.’

  ‘Aha! Do I scent a plot, after all? Is poor Harry to be seduced into settling down and producing a family? You’re the last person I’d have expected to find playing Arthur’s game!’

  ‘It would be a perfect match for him, I assure you, but I wouldn’t try to force it. Lisette needs time. There’s a young man on Antigua and she has still to decide what she really thinks about him…’

  Gussie surveyed her sister. ‘I’m not sure I’m doing the right thing, helping you like this with the Barracloughs. You’re too close to them, Tavy. You might do better to put them out of your mind. All of them.’