Anne Brear

by Virtue of a Governess

  “We have a bright future ahead of us. We have love and we will have a wonderful family.” Nicola leaned over and kissed him softly on the lips. “I love you completely, without restraint or conditions.”

  Nat closed his eyes and felt a hot tear roll down his cheek and then another. How had he deserved this wonderful woman? “Nic…”

  She cradled his head against her breast and let him pour out his misery.

  Sometime later, he straightened, feeling exhausted but better. He’d accepted what his mother had done. Now he just wanted to get rid of her for once and for all.

  “Remember, whatever happens or is said tonight, remember that I love you and soon our baby will be here to love you too.” Nicola rose and he stood also, gathering her into his arms as much as her stomach allowed. She held him tight and he couldn’t get enough of her embrace. It seemed like a very long time since they had held each other properly. Shame washed over him. How had he let his mother come before this magnificent woman who loved him so much? Had he been so desperate for his mother’s love, more than he ever realised?

  “Come, it is time.”

  He hesitated. “Frances.”

  “She knows too. Your mother’s acting skills let her down once she is drunk.”

  “I cannot believe I was such a fool.” Again shame filled him.

  “No.” She shook her head. “I will not allow her to make you suffer anymore. Your mother deserves nothing from you, not your love, your anger, your pity, nothing. Cut her from your heart and mind, Nathaniel, you cannot heal unless you do.”

  “I feel nothing for her now.” It was the truth. At this very moment he felt dead inside where his mother was concerned.

  “Good.” Nicola’s gentle smile soothed his spirit. “While waiting for your return, I arranged for Mrs Rawlings to secure tickets for your mother and her maid on the first available outbound ship. We are fortunate that there is one leaving at midnight. It only goes as far as India, but that is your mother’s worry. Timms can take your mother down to the quay and make sure she boards.”

  “Thank you. Though it grieves me to know you’ve had the trouble of doing this alone.”

  She grinned. “Believe me, it was no trouble. I received an obscene amount of pleasure in doing it.”

  Arm in arm they left the room and headed upstairs. Frances met them on the landing. Without knocking they entered Silvana’s bedroom. Her maid, Agatha was nowhere to be seen, and Silvana slept soundly on top of the bed. Fran shook her shoulder to waken her and then stepped back to ring the bell by the bed.

  “Who dares to wake me?” Silvana snapped, sitting up. She turned, her eyes widening at the sight of them. “What is it? Has something happened?”

  “Yes, Mother, something has.” Nat smiled grimly, just wishing for it to be done with. “We’ve rung for your maid so she can pack your things.”

  “Pack? What are you talking about?” She put a hand to her forehead, wincing. “I’ve a dreadful headache.”

  “That will be the least of your problems, Mother.” Frances picked up a coat laid across a chair. She threw it onto the bed as though the touch of it defiled her. “Start gathering your things.”

  A fleeting look of panic crossed Silvana’s face. “I don’t understand.”

  “It’s easy, Mother.” Nat pulled Nicola in closer to him for support and with his other hand he reached out to take Fran’s hand. “We have finally seen through your charade. There will be no more games. No more lies and false declarations of love. I have dealt with Lombard, who conveniently spilled the information of your treacherous little plan. It is over. Finished.”

  “Nat…” She glanced at Fran. “Frances, dearest…”

  He stepped forward and nearly laughed at the frantic desperation in his mother’s face. “You’re going back to England, Mother, and you will never contact us again. I will deal directly through Gerald concerning our inheritance. My solicitor in London will be instructed to ensure that none of my money flows into the family coffers. Father left the townhouse in Kensington, where you live, to me. On your return to London you will remove your belongings and leave the house. From now on, you’ll have to rely on the money Father left you and what Gerald can do for you. As far as Frances and I are concerned you are now dead to us.”

  Silvana jerked to her feet, an ugly grimace marring her features. “I won’t allow it!”

  “You have no choice. If you cause problems over my decisions, then I will return to England and publicly denounce you as my mother, and the world will know of the distasteful person that you are.”

  She turned to Nicola, her eyes narrowing with loathing. “This is all your fault!”

  “Actually, Madam, it is yours.” Nicola smiled grimly. “You are unnatural, despicable, and you bring nothing with you but misery wherever you go. I should feel rather sorry for you, but I don’t.” Her smile grew wider. “In fact, I shall be the happiest woman in the country when you leave this house.”

  Nat’s chest swelled with pride at his darling girl’s stance. Unable to tolerate being in his mother’s presence another moment, he stalked from the room and the woman who’d done nothing for him, but give him life.

  Outside the door he stopped and held Frances. “We’ll be just as we were before. I promise.”

  “Only better,” she whispered, before releasing him and turning to Nicola. “I’m going to bed. Will you be all right?”

  Nicola kissed her cheek. “Perfectly fine. I’ll see you in the morning. But if you need us in the night, just knock.”

  When Frances left them, Mrs Rawlings came up the stairs. “Mrs West, everything is as you wish it. Timms is waiting downstairs as requested.”

  “Thank you, Mrs Rawlings. My husband and I are retiring early. Will you see that Mrs West’s belongings are taken down and she is gone from the house within the hour?”

  “With pleasure, Madam,” Mrs Rawlings said, with the mere hint of smirk on her lips.

  Inside their bedroom, Nat pulled Nicola into his arms and kissed her with a deep yearning. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart.”

  “It is not your fault, Nathaniel. You mustn’t let this be a burden you carry. I won’t let you.”

  “I cannot help feeling as though I have failed you, and Frances, but especially you.”

  She grinned. “Well, I have to say that when I first married you I did think that I might have women problems with you, but I never expected the other troublesome woman to be your mother.”

  “It’s not a laughing matter, Nicola.”

  “Nonsense. We will laugh about this, because she doesn’t deserve our tears.” She kissed him softly. “We survived this. There was an opportunity for us to flounder and break, for our marriage to be made a mockery by her. But we are the victorious ones, not Silvana.”

  “I’m not worthy of you.” He rested his forehead against hers. “I haven’t been much of a husband lately, have I?”

  “Shush. Enough of that. I’ll hear no more of it.” She placed her finger against his lips. “From tomorrow, no, from this minute, we begin again.” Taking his hand, she placed it over the bulge of her stomach. She smiled up at him as the baby kicked. “We have so much to look forward too, my love.”

  Epilogue

  Nicholas!” Nicola searched the crowd strolling though the gardens and buildings of the Governesses Home. A group of children ran past her and into the schoolroom, but her son wasn’t amongst them. “Where is that boy?”

  “Leave him be, my dear.” Mr Belfroy chuckled from his chair under the Norfolk Pine. “He’ll come back when he’s ready.”

  Smiling, she walked over to stand by his chair. She placed her hand on his shoulder with the familiarity of old friends. “He’s spoilt.”

  “Nonsense. He’s a good boy.” Belfroy tapped his cane towards the gathering of Sydney’s dignitaries. “And he doesn’t want to be bothered with that horde.”

  Nicola grinned. “You’ll have to go up and deliver your speech soon.”

  He sighed
and pulled his hat brim a little lower. “I don’t know why. They don’t want to hear the ramblings of an old man. They’d much rather listen to you.”

  She groaned, feeling light-headed at the thought of speaking in front of all those people. Instinctively, she looked for Nathaniel and spotted him talking to Sir Hercules Robinson, the Governor of New South Wales and other gentlemen of politics. Her nerves increased. When Florence first suggested a garden party to celebrate the ten year anniversary of the Home’s opening, Nicola hadn’t thought she’d be making a speech, otherwise she’d not agreed to it.

  “We’ve come a long way, Nicola.” Belfroy spoke into the comfortable silence between them.

  That he called her by her first name for the first time surprised her more than she could say. “Yes we have, Mr Belfroy.” She swept her gaze around the property taking in the orchard and gardens, the orphanage dormitory, the schoolroom and lastly the back of the big house itself. “Your commitment has brought a lot of happiness and hope to many people.”

  “All this was your vision, my dear.” He slowly creaked to his feet. “Without your ambition to help others and your tireless energy, none of this would be as it is.”

  “But your generosity, your inherit kindness started it.” She supported him to stand upright. “We make a good team, don’t we?”

  “That we do, my dear.” He tucked her hand through his arm and patted it. “It was a lucky day when we met.”

  “Very true.” Nicola thought back to the windy day when she’d been so hungry and despondent. Mr Belfroy had done more than give her a place to stay, he’d given her the chance to hope that her prospects would take a turn for the better, and they did.

  “I’m sorry Hilton couldn’t make it.”

  She looked at him, pondering his words. Her family had become his, her children loved him like a grandfather, and he was Godfather to them, but was it enough for him? “How is Mr Warner?”

  “He works constantly from what I can gather from his letters. Hilton has amassed a colossal fortune.”

  “He is happy?”

  Belfroy shrugged as they began walking towards the crowd. “Who am I to judge?”

  “He’s never come back to this country.”

  “He never will, my dear.” Belfroy gave her a sorrowful look. “When one’s heart gets broken, we cannot keep returning to its source or we’d lose our sanity. No, he has a wife and two small sons and lives for his businesses. That is enough.”

  “I didn’t realise I’d hurt him so severely all those years ago. I am sorry for that.”

  He patted her hand. “It was an unintentional hurt, my dear. You know, anniversaries can be dreadful things.” Belfroy sighed. “They make people remember things that are better left alone.” He patted her arm. “Come, this isn’t the occasion for sadness. Smile, my dear, or your husband will have me locked away for upsetting you.”

  Grinning at the remark, Nicola covered his hand with hers. “He wouldn’t dare, he knows how much you mean to me.”

  “Nicola. Mr Belfroy.” Florence, holding up the skirt of her green gown hurried towards them. “It’s time for the speeches.”

  The serious expression she wore made Nicola want to laugh. “Why are you looking so worried? You won’t be talking in front of everyone.”

  Florence, a twinkle of mischief in her eyes, dropped her skirt and straightened her shoulders. “Being second in charge does have its advantages, you know.”

  With her free arm, Nicola slipped it through Florence’s. Together the three of them walked back up the garden to the paved area where people waited, eating and drinking. She left Florence to help Mr Belfroy get ready and quickly stepped over to Fran, who stood behind one of the refreshment tables. “What are you doing? We hired staff to serve.”

  Fran rolled her eyes. “I thought I’d just help out for a moment as they got a little busy and well…I couldn’t let them struggle for the want of hands.”

  Hiding a smile, Nicola gestured for her to come out from behind there. “You should be staying with your fiancé, the poor man.”

  “Oh, he’s right enough. He was debating with the mayor about the state of the roads near his shop.” Fran stood on tiptoe seeking out John Lawson, the baker and son of Mrs Lawson, who helped at the soup kitchen. John had courted Fran for eight years and she finally agreed to marry him next spring. The difference in their stations caused gossip at first, but Fran didn’t bat an eyelid at that, as Nicola knew she wouldn’t.

  Nicola searched too, but for a different reason. “Have you seen the children?”

  “The girls were here…” Fran looked around, acknowledging certain guests with a nod of her head and a cheery smile. “Milly was holding Thea’s hand. They might have been looking for you or Bertha.”

  “I told Bertha to keep a close watch on them today. There’s too many people around and you know how little Thea is, she’ll be trampled.”

  “That’s why Milly was holding her hand, mothering her, but I could tell she was bursting to run off and play.” Fran laughed.

  Nicola raised an eyebrow. Her daughters were total opposites. Milly, at six years of age was dark like her father and older brother. Boldly beautiful, she behaved like a boy, which exasperated Nicola and consequently Milly was the apple of her Aunt Fran’s eye. Whereas, Thea, only four, was a delicate image of Nicola and adored by her father. Most times, when Thea couldn’t be found, one only had to look for Nathaniel and Thea would be close by.

  “There they are.” Fran pointed to the area past the tea tables to a group of children sitting on the grass. Miss Barker was handing out macaroons to them. “They are completely happy, so go and enjoy yourself.”

  “Mama.” Nicola twisted around as Nicholas tugged on her sleeve. “Mama, I’ve lost my spinning top.”

  Before Nicola could reply, Fran took his hand. “Come, Nicky, I’ll help you find it.”

  Nicola pushed back his light brown hair tenderly. He was a boy version of his father, complete with his violet eyes that Nicola adored so much. “You look hot, my love. Go with Aunt Fran and get a drink, then ask the others to help find your top.” She watched them weave through the people and her heart swelled with love and happiness.

  She turned as Florence drew the crowd together and announced Mr Belfroy. The people grew quiet and Nicola stepped closer to the house steps where Mr Belfroy stood.

  “The poor fellow appears tired,” Nathaniel suddenly whispered in her ear from behind.

  “He’s old,” she whispered back, sad at the thought.

  “He’s lasted longer than any of us believed he would.”

  She looked up at him from over her shoulder and felt his hands on her waist. He kissed her cheek and then concentrated on listening to Belfroy. Apart from a dusting of grey in his hair and the odd line around his eyes, Nathaniel was still the handsomest man she’d ever seen. Over the years, her love for him had only grown and deepened.

  Within minutes, Belfroy was introducing her and indicating for Nicola to go up and join him on the steps. Taking a deep breath, she walked up to stand beside him and faced the crowd, who clapped loudly.

  Smiling, she paused, and gathered her thoughts. So many familiar faces looked at her, friends, acquaintances and most importantly, former and current governesses. She took a deep breath. “Distinguished guests, ladies and gentlemen, family and friends. Thank you all for coming on this special day as we celebrate ten years of Mr Belfroy’s Home for Governesses being open.” Another round of clapping started and as she waited for it to ease, Nathaniel winked encouragingly.

  Straightening her shoulders, Nicola raised her chin so her voice would carry. “Early in eighteen sixty seven, I heard Miss Maria Rye speak at an assembly. This great lady, who works tirelessly for the good of single, educated ladies, inspired me to come to Australia to work as a governess. Little did I know I would be working to help these dedicated women rather than be one. I am proud of what has been achieved here and my part in it.” She paused and stared lovingly at
her family. “But let me begin at the beginning…”

  The Folly at Falconbridge Hall

  By

  Maggi Andersen

  Chapter One

  1894 Clapham, England

  Vanessa Ashley planned to arrive at her destination cool and composed, but she felt like a wilting lily. She dabbed her handkerchief at the sweat trickling into her collar as heat gathered beneath her chip-straw bonnet. Clapham High Street Railway Station was a noisy and smelly hub of activity, luckily the residence that was to be her new home lay in the countryside.

  A short, bearded man approached her and politely touched his hat. “For Falconbridge Hall, miss?”

  “Yes, I’m Miss Ashley. Thank you . . . Mr.?”

  “They just call me Capstick, Miss Ashley. This way.” He led her to a trap. After he’d loaded her trunk and her bicycle on board, they seated themselves. He slapped the reins and told the horse to walk on. “You’re the new governess?”

  She smiled. “Yes.”

  “Another one,” he muttered and shook his head.

  Startled, Vanessa stared at him. “How many have there been?”

  “A few. They don’t stay long.”

  “But why?”

  Capstick declined to comment. He just grunted and shook his head.

  “Well, I intend to.” Vanessa straightened her shoulders. It was true she had never wished to be a governess. Even though she was still quite young, her wish for children of her own now seemed unlikely, and if this was to be her fate, she intended to make the best of it. A person without funds, indifferent looks, and a lack of grace had no other course open to them.

  “Good luck to yer, then.” Capstick grinned at her, revealing a large gap in his front teeth.

  With reassuring skill, he negotiated around a horse-drawn tram as they passed the bandstand on the common and then drove down tree-lined avenues. Villas were soon replaced by streets of gracious homes set amid beautiful gardens. A sign, reading Clapham Park Estate, appeared, followed by larger country houses on acreages.