'I frequently had to drive carts in the Peninsula. There were not always soldiers free to look after us.'
Life in Portugal had, she thought, been comparatively simple. There were few rules, they merely got on with whatever needed doing, whether it was finding food, cooking, or nursing wounded soldiers and sick children.
Joanna looked round in interest. She could imagine what the stable yard looked like when it had been the courtyard of the castle, filled with soldiers in armour, busy with all the many activities that made life in the castle possible. Now there were loose boxes built onto two of the walls, where previously no doubt there had been kitchens and a blacksmith, and all the other necessities of providing for the inhabitants of a castle. Several horses were looking over the half doors. There were store rooms, a carriage house and quarters for the grooms built onto the rest of the walls.
One day, Joanna promised herself, I must explore the ruins of the old castle. Beyond the stable yard the broken walls of a square keep were visible. She had seen several ruined castles in Portugal, but most of them had been destroyed in the fighting. These ruins were centuries old, and she longed to know when and how the castle had been destroyed.
Sir Kenelm lifted her onto Polly's back, and she trembled at his touch, then hid her blushes as she arranged her skirts and found the stirrup. He mounted Mephisto, and led the way out of the yard and across the parkland to a gate which, he told her, was a short cut to the village.
As they rode, and Sir Kenelm pointed out various features, she was able to ask questions.
'When do the children come home?' was the first. She was both anxious to meet them and fearful in case they did not like her.
'I think we must allow Miss Busby a day or so to settle. She will be here three days from now. Then a day or so after, when the weather is fine, we will take the travelling coach to my brother's home and fetch them. There is Nanny to fetch, as well.'
'Do they know – that is, have you told them about me?'
'I have had no opportunity, and I felt it better to tell them directly rather than in a letter. Henry will be as surprised as the twins, no doubt,' he said, and chuckled. 'Before I went to Leeds he told me to advertise for a wife. I rejected the notion, but I found you without advertising. I trust you do not regret our bargain?'
'No, no. How could I, when you have been so kind and generous? I have no regrets, and I hope I can do what you require of me. I will do my best to learn what is needed.'
'I hope I can leave the management of the house in your hands.'
'Mrs Aston showed me some curtain fabrics which have been stored for years.' Perhaps it would be best not to say they had been chosen by his first wife. It could be painful for him to have reminders of her. 'May I have curtains made up, if they are suitable?'
'Of course, that is now your province. And order whatever changes you wish. You must do as you think fit.'
The trouble was, Joanna thought in mild panic, she did not have the slightest notion what would be appropriate. She would have to learn, quickly.
'How much may I spend on refurbishment? New curtains, perhaps recovering chairs and sophas? Perhaps some redecoration?'
'My dear, as much as necessary. And replace anything else which needs to be thrown out. Send to London for pattern books and samples. They will have a better selection than in Leeds. If you need to employ craftsmen, consult Firbank. He knows who are the most skilled. Send all the bills to me. I shall not object. I am a wealthy man, and I have neglected the house since Maria died. She had grand plans for it, and it will be good to see it come back to life.'
'May I take books from your library? I am hoping there will be some on the management of big houses. Mrs Aston suggested I left the menus to Cook for a while, since I am woefully ignorant of what can be obtained at the various seasons, and what is available here in the country, though she assured me there were plenty of preserves and other stores. I have been used, you see, in Portugal, to living off whatever we could purchase from the peasants, and in Kensington I had nothing to do with this, and I suspect it is easier to obtain many things in a town.'
'I feel sure you will soon learn, and you need not feel obliged to consult with me.'
He sounded a little impatient, as if he did not wish to be bothered by household matters, Joanna thought, and sighed. She must do the best she could, and hope not to make too many mistakes and cause him annoyance, and perhaps regret he had so impetuously married her. If he has chosen a girl from his own milieu she would not have needed to ask such questions. They rode past a small clump of trees and came to a pretty stone-built house nestling in its shelter.
'This is the Home Farm, I must introduce you to Mrs Baker, who lives up to her name. She bakes the most delicious cakes and pies.'
*
Sir Kenelm was thoughtful when he went to bed that night. Joanna asked intelligent questions, and seemed prepared to do her best to make his home comfortable. Over the years he had not consciously noticed how shabby it was getting, but looking at it through her eyes he had been ashamed at how he had neglected it. He should have known Cousin Georgina would not care. If only Miss Busby lived up to her promise and could deal with the twins, his visit to Leeds and his impetuous marriage would turn out well.
He smiled as he thought of Henry's surprise when he introduced the new Lady Childe. He would not, of course, tell him of the conditions under which he had married Joanna. Henry was too conventional, despite his surprising advice to advertise for a wife. He would hardly approve of this way of finding one, but it was none of his business. He hoped the twins would like their new Mama, but he was sure they would, for Joanna was young and pretty.
Miss Busby duly arrived three days later. He sent Potts to fetch her in the post chaise, feeling it would be too cold for her to travel in an open carriage. She thanked him for his consideration as she was ushered into the house, and then turned as Joanna came out of the drawing room to greet her. She stared, glanced at Sir Kenelm, and looked back at Joanna with a frown on her face.
'Miss Frazer? Surely we met in Leeds?' she asked, her tone both astonished and frosty. 'I was not aware,' she went on, turning to Sir Kenelm, 'that you intended employing two governesses? I think I should have been consulted if I am expected to share the teaching of my charges with someone else, and, if I may say so, someone so much younger and less experienced than I am myself.'
'No, you will be in sole charge of the schoolroom, and the teaching of my children, Miss Busby. May I present you to my wife, Lady Childe? She will be sufficient chaperone for you, I trust?'
'Your – wife?' She swung round to glare accusingly at Joanna. 'But – in Leeds, surely, you called yourself Miss Frazer?'
Joanna flushed with annoyance. The woman was impertinent, her tone accusing as though Joanna had cheated her.
'I was Miss Frazer then,' she said. 'Sir Kenelm and I were about to be married,' she added. There was no need to tell this arrogant woman how sudden and unexpected the marriage had been. 'Come, let me show you to the schoolroom wing, and your own bedroom and sitting room.'
Miss Busby cast a severe glance at Sir Kenelm, and he had difficulty in suppressing a grin. He hadn't anticipated Miss Busby being so disconcerted, yet it was mainly for her benefit he had married Joanna. Wasn't it?
'Where are my charges?' she asked. It sounded more like a demand. 'Am I to meet them today?'
'They are still with my brother,' Sir Kenelm said, 'and I mean to fetch them in a day or so, after you have had time to settle in. I know you will wish to inspect the books we already have, and if you make a list of any others you would like me to order, or anything else you need, I will send for them.'
'Thank you, Sir Kenelm.'
She inclined her head, then looked at Joanna, her eyebrows raised and her chin jutting in what Sir Kenelm considered a defiant, even a belligerent manner. Oh dear, was she offended as well as surprised? But surely Joanna would be able to manage her, and they need not see a great deal of her. Governesses w
ere not treated as members of the family.
*
When Miss Busby saw the schoolroom and her own bedroom and sitting room she sniffed, but could not, Joanna felt, find anything to complain of, and Joanna was certain this annoyed her. Fires had been lit, the rooms were warm and comfortable, and her trunks had already been brought upstairs. Margaret, one of the younger maids, was standing, hands meekly folded in front of her, in the sitting room and Joanna introduced her.
'Margaret will look after the schoolroom and your rooms,' she said, and Margaret flushed and hung her head as Miss Busby scrutinised her closely.
'We'll see,' she said after a tense moment. 'Hold your head up, girl, when I am speaking to you. And in future you should keep your hair tidy, not falling all over your face. Go away and comb it properly now.'
Joanna opened her mouth to protest. Margaret's hair was curly, yet only one curl had escaped from beneath her cap. Then she decided not to interfere this time, for fear it made Margaret's life more difficult, though she would keep a firm eye on this governess, who seemed intent on establishing a dominant position. It was not how Joanna imagined governesses to behave. Certainly in the novels she read they were all meek and subservient. She supposed that now Miss Busby had to defer to her she felt more need to dominate everyone else. How would she treat the children?
When Margaret had left the room, Miss Busby turned to Joanna.
'I thought, when we were in Leeds, you had applied for the position of governess?' she said. 'Everyone else who was at that interview had done so. Have you known Sir Kenelm for long? It seems very odd.'
'Really?' Joanna said curtly. She was not going to satisfy the woman's obvious curiosity. 'I will leave you now to unpack, and please give Sir Kenelm the list of books he asked for as soon as you can. We would like to send to London in case there is snow and the weather makes travel difficult. Margaret will bring your supper up in an hour's time.'
She left the room swiftly, and only just restrained herself from slamming the door. How dared the wretched woman ask such questions? And if she made poor Margaret's life a misery she would soon find that Joanna could retaliate. If she treated the children badly she would have Joanna to answer to, as well as Sir Kenelm. He seemed fond of his children, and if Miss Busby made them unhappy, surely he could be persuaded to get rid of her, however accomplished she might be.
When, as they sat at supper, Sir Kenelm asked how Miss Busby seemed, she shrugged. It would serve no good purpose to complain about her treatment of Margaret so soon, but she would watch the woman carefully. To complain about her attitude just yet might appear to be criticising Sir Kenelm's choice. She would wait until there was something positive to complain of, and she was certain there soon would be.
'No doubt she will settle down soon,' she replied. 'I hope the children will like her.'
'We'll drive over and fetch them the day after tomorrow.'
They went into the library after supper, as had become their custom. On the first evening Sir Kenelm had explained it was his favourite room, much more comfortable than the drawing room, which was too large and formal for just the two of them.
'Do you play chess, or backgammon?' he had asked when they were installed in chairs either side of a roaring fire.
Joanna was surprised. 'Oh, but you do not need to entertain me!' she exclaimed. 'I can read, or start on some embroidery.'
'You don't sound too eager,' he said, laughing. 'Why should I not entertain you, as you call it? I enjoy such games, though I am not partial to cards, and it will be a pleasure to have your company in the evenings. Do you play?'
Joanna nodded. 'Yes, but – '
'But what?'
'Is this part of our bargain?' she asked bluntly. 'I did not expect it.'
'Do you not wish for my company?'
Joanna took a deep breath. 'I do not know what is expected of me,' she said in a rush. 'I don't know when you want my company, when I may come to speak with you if there are things I need to ask. For instance, do you want me to join you for breakfast, or to have it in my room? And what must I do for your tenants? Oh, there is so much I need to know!'
'Are you regretting our bargain?'
'No, no, it is not that, but it is all so strange, and so sudden, I still feel as though I am dreaming.'
'So long as you are not riding the night mare. Come to ask me whatever you wish at any time. Now, what shall it be? Chess?'
It had become customary, and Joanna enjoyed the quiet companionship. Sir Kenelm promised to teach her billiards later, saying he had no one to play with unless Henry were visiting, or Matthew was on leave and at home, and it was boring knocking the balls about by himself.
*
She would soon grow used to her life here, Sir Kenelm told himself as he prepared for bed than night. Venner, the valet who had been with him since he was a child, seemed preoccupied, and Sir Kenelm had to ask him twice for the towel to dry his hands.
'What is it?' he asked the man.
Venner frowned. 'The woman,' he said curtly.
What woman? Surely he did not mean Joanna? How could she have offended Venner, who had hardly, to his knowledge, seen her since they had been back at Rock Castle? And surely he would not refer to her so disrespectfully?
'That Busby,' Venner explained. 'That new governess as she calls herself,' he added, and Sir Kenelm breathed a sigh of relief.
'What about her?'
Venner turned away and began to draw back the blankets on the bed, and speaking over his shoulder.
'It's not my place to tell tales, but it's not right. She made young Margaret cry, snapping at lass, first tellin' her to tidy her hair, then complaining shelves in schoolroom were dirty. It were on'y a bit o' dust, what you might expect when books have never been looked at in months. It's the poor lass's first job, she's no more'n thirteen, and she's homesick for farm.'
'She's from Moor Farm, isn't she?' Sir Kenelm asked, frowning, as he donned his nightshirt. 'One of Ramshaw's brood?'
'Aye, his eldest. She started while you were away to Leeds. Mrs Aston says she's shapin' well, and thought she'd be happy lookin' after schoolroom, for she's used to kiddies, havin' half a dozen young 'uns at home.'
'I'll ask Lady Childe to look into it.'
'You won't send the lass off?' Venner asked. 'I'd feel guilty if you did, on my say so, and it weren't her fault.'
'I'll ask Lady Childe for her opinion. Perhaps Margaret would be happier doing something else, and one of the older maids could look after the schoolroom.'
One who might be able to stand up for herself, he thought as he lay in bed later. Had he made a mistake with Miss Busby? But Joanna would sort it out. Wasn't this just the sort of thing he wanted a wife for?
When he mentioned it to Joanna the next morning, while they were having breakfast, she confirmed Venner's story of the command to Margaret to tidy her hair.
He poured more coffee and looked steadily at her.
'And there really was nothing wrong with it,' Joanna added indignantly.
'Did you say anything to her?'
Joanna immediately felt guilty. This was clearly something she should have done.
'No, I decided it might make it worse for Margaret. Should I have told her – what? That it was not her business to complain to the maids?'
I don't know how to go on, she thought.
'I can see it would have been difficult for you. Perhaps a different maid, give Margaret some other tasks?'
'If she has already begun to complain, what will she be like with the children?' Joanna asked. This had been of concern to her.
'They need some discipline,' he said. 'Will you speak to her?'
Joanna knew she could not avoid it. If this was her duty then she must not shirk it, however reluctant she was to challenge the woman who so clearly despised her.
'Yes, I will, and I think it would be best to have an older maid look after that woman, as you suggest,' she said after a moment. 'What about Margaret? May I really sug
gest another job for her?'
'Of course. She would perhaps like to be a housemaid? Or help in the laundry?'
'I'll ask Mrs Aston what would be best for her, and who might be put in her place for the schoolroom.'
Sir Kenelm suddenly chuckled. 'Sally,' he said. 'Suggest Sally.'
'Why do you laugh? And who is Sally? Isn't she one of the housemaids? I haven't yet sorted them out.'
'Sally is afraid of no one, and if she dislikes someone she can make life very difficult for them. When one of my friends came to stay and thought she would welcome his advances, he suddenly found his fire was never drawing properly, the wood was always damp, his bed was aired far too early so that it was cold before he got into it, and his washing water was only lukewarm. Sally never admitted she was responsible, and as it was not always her job to do these things, nothing could be proven.'
Joanna was laughing. 'But she would be in sole charge of the schoolroom, Miss Busby would know who to blame.'
'I think you can rely on Sally to think of other ways of retaliating if Miss Busby is unpleasant to her.'
Joanna nodded, and he forgot the whole business. It wasn't until they were in the coach later, driving to Henry's manor, that he remembered to ask Joanna what had happened.
'I informed her we had decided Margaret was too inexperienced for her exacting requirements, and so we were appointing a very superior housemaid to look after her rooms, and I hoped she would be better satisfied. And I told her that if she had any complaints she was to make them to me, and not to Sally, or we would soon run out of suitable maids to look after the children. I also said their old nurse would still be in charge of them outside the schoolroom hours, and that would relieve her of some of the responsibility. I think she understood very well what I meant. She looked furious.'
Joanna giggled, and Sir Kenelm sat back and looked at her. He had thought her pretty, even beautiful, when he had first seen her, but with her new clothes, and after just a few days of comfort, and, he suspected, better food than she had been having in Leeds, she had a bloom on her cheeks and a mischievous expression in her eyes. She was wearing a walking gown in a delicate shade of lavender, and her bonnet, surely the grey one she had worn for their wedding, was now embellished by a spray of artificial flowers and tied under her chin with deep lavender ribbons. He had, he decided, made an unexpectedly good bargain when he had acted so impulsively and out of character and offered her marriage.
The Chaperone Bride Page 5