The Defiant Governess

by Andrea Pickens

  Jane turned and left the room without a word. Mrs. Fairchild regarded her retreating form with a concerned look.

  “Oh dear,” breathed the older lady, twisting a handkerchief in her thin fingers. “Oh, dear.”

  * * * *

  Jane sat on her bed staring at the trunk filled with her meager possessions which now awaited a footman to carry it down when the carriage arrived. A curt note had accompanied her supper tray informing her that it would do so at eight in the morning. As she glanced out the window she saw that William Coachman was indeed pulling to a stop in front of the main entrance. She heaved a heavy sigh and collected her reticule as a knock sounded on the door. She would never see Highwood and its people again, and that stabbing thought nearly brought on the flood of tears that wouldn’t come last night.

  Last night had been beyond tears. She knew that she had to tell Peter herself. After she heard Mrs. Fairchild bring him upstairs to bed, she went to his room. Enfolding his small form in her arms, she haltingly explained that she must be leaving. No reasons of course, just simply that she must go. Instead of crying or begging her to stay, as she expected, he had reacted as inscrutably as his father. He merely stared at her with the same sea green eyes and held her hand very tightly. It had been infinitely worse than any words.

  This morning the deep smudges under her eyes revealed that she had found but little sleep during the rest of the night. She paused to look in the small mirror one last time. Goodbye. Goodbye to Jane Langley.

  Downstairs, Mrs. Fairchild dabbed at her eyes, then took Jane’s hands in her own. “We shall all miss you very much, my dear,” she said. “Promise that you will write to assure us you are well-settled. I wish that you might reconsider…” She trailed off with a questioning look.

  Jane shook her head. “It isn’t possible,” she said in a voice barely audible.

  The housekeeper withdrew a large purse from her apron. “His Lordship sends you your wages,” she said hesitantly, holding it towards her.

  Jane took it slowly, noting its weight. “Why it’s far too much,” she whispered. Opening it, she counted out exactly the amount that had originally been agreed upon. “That is all that is due me,” she continued and placed the purse on one of the carved hunt chests.

  “But Miss Jane,” remonstrated Mrs. Fairchild. “You’ll need funds to live on while you find a new position. And you’ll need this, have you forgotten?” She placed a crisp envelope in Jane’s hand. “A recommendation,” she added. “You must have one in order to secure work.”

  “Oh. Yes, of course.” She took the proffered letter and mechanically pushed it into her pocket. “I shall manage.” Jane gave a forced smile.

  Turning her head, she saw that the parlor maids, the scullery girls and the footmen—even Cook and Glavin—had gathered in a subdued group. Quietly, one by one, they wished her well. At that, she finally felt the sting of tears.

  “Thank you,” she stammered, then fled outside.

  William nodded a greeting to her as he opened the carriage door.

  “Can you take me to Hawley where I might catch the mail coach?” she asked.

  “His Lordship says I am to take you wherever you wish to go, Miss.”

  “Hawley will be fine.”

  “Taint safe for a female to travel unaccompanied,” said William doggedly. “Let me take you wherever you’re going.”

  Jane shook her head. She glanced around, feeling quite low that Peter hadn’t come to say goodbye—but maybe it was better that way. She noticed that the curtains on the library were still drawn shut from the evening, but for a moment she thought she detected a slight movement there. She must stop that, she told herself. It was over.

  She turned and quickly climbed into the carriage. William shut the door and climbed to his box. With a flick of the reins, he sent the team off down the drive at a brisk pace. Highwood was soon left behind.

  * * * *

  Saybrook remained at the library window long after the coach had disappeared. What a mull he had made of trying to declare his feelings, he thought grimly. And what a gudgeon he had been to think she would have anything but disdain for him—she had guessed the truth and thought him no better than a hardened rake! Why, she had even thought that he had wanted to make her his mistress, so badly had he expressed himself. No, not badly, he corrected himself. Cowardly. He had been afraid to say the words, afraid of…Lord, he hadn’t meant to kiss her, but she had seemed so…in need of comfort. And for a few perfect moments, it had seemed that she had returned his feelings. How wrong he had been! Again.

  And now she was gone. He turned his gaze to the purse now lying on his desk. She had refused it, as he feared she would. How would she get along with so little money and no position? Would she be forced to return to her father and marry... A tight knot formed in his stomach. Well, if William carried out his orders, he would see to it that Miss Langley need not fear for anything, even though she would never willingly accept his help. In fact, if she knew of his plan her eyes would flash in indignation...

  He smiled crooked at the thought of those flashing eyes, that defiant chin. Lord, he would miss her. The reality of it was just beginning to hit him. Last night he had kept himself numbed with brandy to dull the searing pain. But now he faced the prospect of day after empty day. Only the thought of Peter—his son—kept the grief from being unbearable.

  He slumped into his chair and buried his face in his hands. To his amazement, he felt tears on his cheeks. He hadn’t cried since he was in short coats. Not at his mother’s death, not even seven years ago. But he made no effort to stem their flow.

  * * * *

  William handed Jane down from the carriage. The small inn’s yard was quiet save for an ostler readying the change of horses for the mailcoach. Not another passenger was in sight.

  “I don’t like it, Miss,” growled William. “‘Tis not fitting for you to travel alone. Why don’t ye let me take ye where ye’s going. It’s what His Lordship wants, and cor, I’d be glad of a little change of scene.”

  Jane smiled at him fondly. “Thank you for your concern, William, but I shall be fine. You needn’t treat me like I was some fine lady.”

  “Well in my mind, ye is,” he muttered under his breath. “At least let me go in and buy yer ticket for ye... Where to?”

  Jane handed him a coin. “Tunbridge Wells.”

  “And then?”

  “I…I shall decide that when I arrive,” she answered. In fact, she had not decided just what to do. Should she return directly home or take refuge with the Dowager Duchess, her grandmother, in London? That august lady, the only other person besides herself who was willing to stand up to the Duke, would no doubt be willing to arrange a tête-à-tête with her father on neutral ground. She bit her lip. It was so hard to think about the future when all her thoughts were on the past.

  William returned with her ticket and change. He took down her small trunk and stood doggedly by her side, even though she urged him to return to Highwood.

  “A fine thing that would be,” he exclaimed, looking offended that she had even suggested such a thing. “Te leave ye at the mercy of Lord knows what.” He glanced around sourly, as if to confirm his notion that undesirables where lurking about.

  Jane smiled and patted his arm, but secretly she was glad to have his company. She would be alone soon enough.

  The mail coach lurched to a stop in front of the inn. One elderly woman clutching a large burlap sack to her chest got out, but aside from that, there was no other movement within the coach. As the ostler began to switch the teams, the coachman clamored off his perch and rush into the inn, no doubt to throw back a quick pint in the brief lull.

  “Well, I best be getting ye in,” remarked William as he swung her trunk up to where the luggage was tied.

  Jane was thankful to see the coach was only half full. She settled herself between a mother with two small children and a thin cleric who gave her no more than a desultory glance before falling back to sl
eep with a loud snore.

  “Ye take care now, Miss.” William poked his head in through the open door.

  “Thank you for everything. Goodbye.”

  The door slammed. She had to fight back tears as she realized her last link to Highwood was now broken.

  William watched the coach rumble away down the road. Miss hadn’t made it easy, but he wouldn’t fail His Lordship. Tunbridge Wells, it was, and from there he would have no difficulty in finding out her next destination. He motioned for an ostler to take the Marquess’s carriage into the stables. A saddle horse had already been hired from the landlord at the same time he purchased Miss Langley’s ticket. He should arrive at Tunbridge Wells well ahead of the coach. With a grim smile he swung into the saddle. He would take good care of the young miss—he remembered the look on Saybrook’s face when he had received his orders—or it would be his own head on a platter.

  * * * *

  Saybrook was roused from his misery by the sound of agitated voices in the hallway. “No ma’am,” exclaimed the parlor maid. “He told me he was going to be with His Lordship. I thought...”

  “Yes, of course,” answered Mrs. Fairchild. “But I’m sure he isn’t in there. Have you sent to the stables?”

  “Yes ma’am. No one has seen the lad. Oh, whatever shall we do?”

  “Let me think.” A note of concern had crept into her voice, and she stood in indecision before the nervous maid.

  “What is the matter?” Saybrook stood in the library doorway. His voice was low and a bit hoarse.

  Mrs. Fairchild turned to face him and nearly reached out her arms to comfort him, just as she had so many times when he was a small boy—he looked so drawn and saddened. “It’s Peter,” she managed to get out. “He is not to be found anywhere, and he told Mary early this morning that he was meeting you. You haven’t...”

  “No.”

  “Oh dear,” she repeated. “No doubt he is around somewhere, but it is unlike him to be devious— I’m sorry we have disturbed you, Mr. Edward. We shall take care of it.”

  Saybrook’s heart gave a lurch. Of course the boy would be devastated, too. In his own grief, he had been too selfish to realize that the boy would need comforting as well.

  “I shall speak to Henry. If you are sure he is not somewhere in the house, I think we might need to begin looking around the estate.” Saybrook sighed. He had a feeling he knew exactly what the boy was up to.

  * * * *

  Jane looked out the window with unseeing eyes as the coach lurched along its way. It was badly sprung and even though the road had become less rutted since they had turned off of the country lanes, the passengers were still jostled together with uncomfortable frequency. She hardly noticed the bumps and heaves so intent was she on holding back the flood of tears that threatened to burst forth at any moment.

  The numbness was wearing away, giving way to a sense of loss so painful she felt she could hardly breathe. Her father had been right, she thought miserably. Her reckless behavior had finally ended in disaster, though of a different sort than he had imagined. True, her reputation would be in tatters if it became known she had lived at Highwood with the Marquess in residence, but it was her heart that bore the damage now. Perhaps she should have told him of her masquerade and trusted that he would have understood. But instead, she had been too cowardly, too proud to risk facing his approbation.

  She had let her impetuous tongue lash out and wound him beyond all bounds. She could see his face again in that moment—the instant of searing pain before his features froze into an expression so cold and hard that it chilled her even now. It was the last look she had seen of him before he had turned and left her. How he must hate her.

  A single tear ran down her cheek. She dabbed at it quickly, hoping no one had seen it. However, no one was paying the least attention to her. She would give anything to take back those cruel words and the hurt she had caused. Her chin sank to her chest. Maybe it would be best she put aside her own notions and began to behave as Society expected. Maybe she should bow to her father’s wishes and marry the proper Lord Hawthorne and spend her days being a dutiful wife. Maybe in time she would learn to be satisfied with that—if only she could forget a pair of flashing sea green eyes.

  The coach rolled to a halt at a small inn and the rest of the passengers climbed out stiffly, grumbling heartily about how long it had been since the last stop. Jane had been unaware of how long they had been traveling. However as she climbed down herself it was clear from the angle of the sun that the time was well past noon. Though she hadn’t yet eaten anything, she didn’t feel in the least hungry and decided to use what little time she had to stretch her cramped limbs.

  Ignoring the curious stares of the stableboys and ostlers, she began to walk slowly around the perimeter of the stableyard, still consumed by her own concerns. It took a moment to realize someone was calling her name. With a start she looked up to see Henry reining in his lathered horse, a look of worry creasing his lined features.

  “Why, Henry! Whatever are you doing...” She suddenly noticed his expression. “Is something wrong?” she cried, her stomach tightening into a hard knot.

  “It’s Master Peter, Miss Jane,” answered the groom. “He’s gone missing and well, His Lordship thought we had best check...”

  “I would never…” she gasped.

  “No, Miss, of course not. But we think he hid in William’s coach, and perhaps he did the same here.”

  He dismounted and walked quickly to the mailcoach, casting an appraising eye over the outside baggage.

  “If you will just hold Athena for me, Miss, I’ll climb up and make sure.

  Jane stood holding the reins while Henry made his search. So much could happen to a small boy out alone. He could fall in a ditch and drown, or be grabbed by those unspeakable people who kidnapped children for slave labor...

  “Well, he ain’t up here, as I suspected, but we had to be sure,” said Henry as he climbed down. “Sorry to disturb you, Miss…I, well, as I didn’t get a chance to say goodbye earlier, I wish you very well. We shall miss you in the stables.” The groom ducked his head and blushed at speaking so directly to someone of the opposite sex.

  “I’m coming with you,” said Jane suddenly.

  “But Miss!” Henry looked even more discomforted. “I don’t think…that is, His Lordship didn’t say anything about...”

  Jane had already sprung into action. Ordering a startled ostler to remove her trunk from the coach, she hurried into the inn, returning a short time later with a satisfied look on her face. “The post boy is saddling a horse for me. It shan’t be a minute.”

  “But Miss,” he repeated. “You can’t...” He waved his arms helplessly. “Besides, you ain’t dressed for riding!”

  “I shall manage quite well.” Jane startled the ostlers even further by demanding a leg up and then tucking her voluminous skirts between her legs so she could ride astride. Their eyes widened at the sight of very well turned pair of ankles set firmly in the stirrups.

  “Come now, we must find him before nightfall.”

  The confused groom gave up and climbed into the saddle himself. He knew better than to argue with Miss Langley. “His Lordship and the rest of the men have spread out from Hockam on the west side of the road. I’m to meet them by the fork and then we’ll sweep down the east side. He can’t have gotten very far on foot.”

  Jane nodded and put her heels to her horse.

  They pushed their mounts hard, cutting across fields, jumping the stiles, galloping along the dusty lanes until they reached the appointed rendezvous. Henry shaded his eyes and surveyed the surrounding countryside. “We’d best wait here for the others.”

  “Perhaps I should start looking while you wait,” she said, anxious to find the boy as well as to avoid a meeting with the Marquess.

  “I dunno, Miss,” said Henry slowly. Then he stopped as if his attention were caught by something beyond her shoulders.

  Jane turned quickly. She,
too, seemed to see a flash of movement far out in one of the fields to their left. She urged her mount over to the stone wall in order to have a better look, but now there appeared to be nothing.

  “I think we had both better wait until His Lordship arrives. He should be here shortly.” The groom’s nervousness was evident.

  Sure enough a group of four riders appeared from around the bend in the road, perhaps a quarter of a mile away. Jane immediately recognized the black stallion in the lead. She took a deep breath and wondered how Saybrook would react to her presence. She turned her eyes back to the field, trying to compose herself for the meeting.

  There it was again, a slight movement by a copse of elms. She kept staring and in another moment a slight figure came into view, that of a child. She heaved a sigh of relief and gave thanks that the boy was safe. As she began to call his name, another movement caught her eye, one quite close to the little figure trudging slowly along the edge of the field. The words froze in her throat as she saw the shape of a huge bull materialize from among the trees. It was trailing a broken rope from the ring in its nose, and its massive head swung from side to side as it approached the boy from behind.

  “Peter!” she screamed. “Run for the trees!”

  But even as she cried out, she could see that the boy would never be able to outrun the beast to safety. She jumped down from her horse and began to scramble over the wall, even though she knew she could never reach him in time...

  Suddenly a massive black shape hurtled over the stones close by her. In another moment, Hero was galloping across the field, Saybrook bent low over his neck. The Marquess reined in the stallion just out of reach of the dangerous horns and flung himself from the saddle. The charging bull reached Peter seconds before Saybrook. It knocked the boy to the ground with a vicious blow from its head. As it rounded on the prostrate form, Saybrook scooped up the boy in one arm, then turned his own body to absorb the onslaught of the bull’s next charge. He fell to his knees on impact, but managed to fend off the beast with one arm.

  By this time, Henry and the three stablehands had ridden up and formed a protective circle around the two figures. As they drove the bull away, Saybrook remained on his knees and laid the boy gently down on the ground.