The Governess's Secret Baby

by Janice Preston

  It was not only his animals he cared for. He cared for Clara and for the people who worked for him too.

  For her.

  ‘Thank you, again, for saving me yesterday, my lord. And for looking after me last night.’

  His eyes crinkled at the corners. ‘You are very welcome, Miss Bertram.’

  A suspicion suddenly struck her. ‘Did you put laudanum drops in my chocolate last night?’

  A bubble of laughter rose inside her at the face he pulled, reminiscent of a small boy caught out in mischief.

  ‘Guilty as charged. I apologise, but you needed to sleep, not lie awake fretting, so I thought you could use a little assistance.’

  ‘No wonder I could not remember returning to my bed.’ She willed her cheeks not to grow pink. ‘I... Did you...?’

  ‘I carried you upstairs, if that is what you are wondering. You did not stir. And you cannot—’ he fleetingly brushed her cheek with one finger ‘—be embarrassed after the events of yesterday afternoon. I was the perfect gentleman, I can assure you.’ A faint smile stretched his lips and was gone.

  ‘I did not doubt it, my lord. Thank you.’

  The bed rocked as he stood up. ‘I am relieved to find you on the road to recovery and will leave you in peace. Mrs Sharp has prescribed rest for you today, so please ensure you do as she says.’

  He turned on his heel and left the room, leaving Grace to ponder her growing feelings for a man who did not return them.

  Or does he?

  His mother had seen enough in his behaviour to prompt her to warn him off Grace and most successfully, too, to judge by his behaviour since her visit. There was a definite softening in his attitude today, though, and she would swear she had not misremembered those frantic endearments when he rescued her.

  But...her doubts about her own judgement were still powerful.

  Look what happened last time I believed a man cared for me.

  She conjured up the memory of the night before when she had gazed up at Nathaniel. He had been tempted to kiss her, but then he had ignored her silent invitation. He was her employer. A marquess.

  Miss Fanworth’s warning against dalliances with employers whispered in her memory. The teacher had joined the four friends as they waited in their shared bedroom for the carriage that would whisk Joanna away to her new life.

  It never ends well, she had said. Look at poor Madame...and then she had blushed, pursed her lips and shaken her head when urged to tell the girls more.

  Grace and her friends had often speculated about what had happened to Madame in the past. Rumours—passed down from each generation of schoolgirls to the next—told the tale of a newly qualified governess who had fallen in love with her high-ranking employer’s heir. It was said that Madame had been paid off with the school in Salisbury, but that she had been left broken-hearted.

  Grace struggled to believe the stern Frenchwoman had ever been so ill-disciplined as to allow her heart to rule her head—a trait of which she had accused Grace on more than one occasion—but then, the night before Rachel had finally left the school, she had discovered a little more of the truth. Unable to sleep, Rachel had gone downstairs and happened upon Madame reading a pile of old letters with tears in her eyes.

  ‘Surtout, garder votre coeur,’ Madame had said, before sending Rachel back to bed with a warm drink. Above all, guard your heart.

  Rachel had told Isabel and Grace—Joanna had already left the school—and they had come to the conclusion the rumours about Madame’s lost love must be true.

  With a sigh, Grace wriggled down under the covers and rolled on to her side. Henceforth, she would make sure it was her head that ruled her heart. Madame had spoken wisely. At least she would still see Nathaniel every day. Perhaps now they could return to their chess games and their former, more comfortable relationship and forget the cold, unhappy atmosphere of the past fortnight.

  She would encourage him to spend more time with Clara and she would focus on making them both happy.

  * * *

  It was four days since Grace’s accident. Sunday morning. Everyone had gone to church, taking Clara with them, but Grace had declined to go, unable to face the inevitable questions about her ordeal.

  As soon as the carriage disappeared from sight, Nathaniel said, ‘Would you care to see the hawks today? The weather is perfect. We can fly one if you would like to.’

  Grace beamed her pleasure, causing Nathaniel to burn with shame at the memory of his brusque rebuttal the last time she had asked to see the birds.

  As they soon reached the top of the fell—the place where Grace had thought the eagle was attacking him—Nathaniel said, ‘Are you certain this is not too much for you?’

  Grace laughed, her eyes sparkling, her cheeks flushed with their walk. She wore an old black cloak of Mrs Sharp’s—he had ordered her a new cloak, but it was yet to arrive—and a serviceable brown bonnet, but Nathaniel swore he had never seen any fine lady as beautiful as Grace Bertram.

  ‘I am not tired. How could I be when you have walked up here at a snail’s pace to accommodate my woefully short stride?’

  He stopped anyway. ‘Here is a good place. There is no need to go further.’

  His kestrel, Woody, was on his arm. Next to the other birds of prey—the buzzard and the peregrine falcons—he was dainty and colourful and Grace had fallen in love with him, admiring the black-spotted, chestnut-brown plumage on his back and wings, and his slate-grey head and tail.

  Nathaniel removed Woody’s hood and set him free to fly. Grace watched, awe and delight on her upturned face, and Nathaniel watched Grace.

  ‘He is staying in one place now,’ Grace said.

  ‘He is hovering. It is how kestrels hunt. They have sharp eyesight and they watch for the movement of mice and voles, or for small birds. It is hard to see it, but if you watch very carefully you can see that his head stays perfectly still whilst his wings and his body absorb the currents of air.’

  ‘Will he come back to you?’

  ‘Yes, of course. I’ve had him from a chick. He could not survive out here on his own. Here, we will call him in.’

  He stripped the gauntlet off his left hand and passed it to Grace. ‘You are right-handed so you must wear the glove on your left so you can replace his hood and change his jesses over without fumbling.’

  ‘What if I hurt him?’

  Anxious eyes searched his and his heart flipped in his chest. How he resisted the impulse to take her in his arms there and then he did not know.

  ‘Do not worry. I am here. I will do it.’

  Her trusting smile set his blood on fire.

  ‘Stand like this...’ with his hands on her shoulders, he moved her so she stood sideways to where Woody flew ‘...hold your arm out in front of you, like so, with your fingers straight...’ he raised her left arm ‘...and stay still.’

  He stood close, his hand behind hers, holding a sliver of fresh meat. He let out a call to the bird, who, knowing there would be food as a reward, flew in, straight as an arrow, and landed on the side of Grace’s hand. She gasped.

  ‘I did not think I would feel him through the leather, but I can feel his grip.’

  Nathaniel gave Woody his reward and folded Grace’s fingers around the thin strip of leather—the jess—which was secured to the kestrel’s anklet.

  ‘There,’ he said, Grace’s lily-of-the-valley scent filling his senses, she was so close. ‘Now you have control of when he flies again.’

  They flew Woody several more times, then Nathaniel slipped on his hood and they started for home.

  ‘Thank you, N...my lord,’ Grace said.

  He bit his tongue to stop himself from giving her permission to call him Nathaniel. How could that help in his efforts to keep her from his heart?

  ‘I am pleased y
ou enjoyed it, Miss Bertram.’

  ‘Do you think...might I come with you again? I should like to see the bigger birds fly as well.’

  As she spoke, she stumbled against him and he caught her, pulling her close. He looked down. She looked up. He was so tempted to succumb to the desire sizzling through his veins, but he could not. He stiffened his resolve and, with a pang of regret, he put her from him. She had accepted the scars on his face and his hand, but she was young...naïve...she could not possibly realise the full extent of the damage that damnable fire had wrought. Imagining her horror at the sight of his naked body sent shudders of dread rippling through him. How could a beautiful woman like Grace ever accept—be intimate with—a ravaged man like him?

  ‘Thank you for catching me,’ Grace said, after a few seconds of uncomfortable silence. ‘I should take more care.’

  She sounded completely unconcerned and relief flooded Nathaniel that he hadn’t followed his desire to kiss her.

  ‘I should like to ask you about the Christmas decorations,’ she then said.

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘I should like to cut some evergreens in the woods. Mrs Sharp said there is holly and ivy, and...and...well, some other trees, that I could use to make garlands to decorate the Hall.’

  ‘You mean such as laurel and juniper?’

  ‘Yes.’ She didn’t sound sure. ‘I think she said those sorts.’

  Nathaniel suppressed his smile, love filling him at the effort she was making to fit into this alien—for her—place.

  ‘You do not need my permission to cut branches in the woods.’

  ‘No. But I do need your permission to ask Ned or Tam to help cut them. And carry them home.’

  Home. He liked the way she said home.

  ‘Of course you may ask them. And I will help, too. When is it you wish to start?’

  ‘A few days before Christmas. And then we shall make garlands and decorate the Hall on Christmas Eve. It would be nice...’ her voice became wistful ‘...if we might have a Yule log, too. Do you think—?’

  ‘The wood has all been cut for the winter. I doubt we have anything big enough.’

  But he would move heaven and earth to find one, just for Grace.

  Chapter Twenty

  Two days later, Nathaniel appeared in the doorway of his book room as Grace descended the stairs carrying Clara—already dressed to go out—and her own new cloak and bonnet. She put Clara down when they reached the hall and the little girl ran straight to Nathaniel, arms aloft. Love, tinged with melancholy, laced her veins as she wished the three of them were a real family.

  ‘You are going out?’ Nathaniel swung Clara up and kissed her before putting her down again.

  ‘Yes.’ Grace avoided his gaze, draping her cloak over the newel post whilst she donned her bonnet. ‘We are going into Shivercombe to consult with the seamstress and take her the fabric I have selected for my new gowns. I shall also visit Miss Dunn.’

  ‘Are you sure about driving, so soon after your accident?’

  Grace paused in the act of tying her bonnet ribbons under her chin. She adopted a light tone. Nathaniel didn’t need to know the full extent of her nerves. ‘I have to cross the beck again sometime, so why not today? I must replace my dress and I long to see Elizabeth.’

  She had missed attending church on Sunday and Elizabeth had sent a very concerned note, via Mrs Sharp, enquiring after her health and inviting her to visit soon. Grace swung her new cloak around her shoulders and fastened the silver clasp at her neck.

  She hesitated. She had already thanked Nathaniel for her new cloak, but this was the first time she had worn it. And she was very conscious of him watching her, his gaze sending shivers dancing across her skin.

  ‘Thank you again for this beautiful cloak.’ She stroked the fur trim.

  ‘The colour suits you.’

  His voice was gruff, as though he were embarrassed. The cloak was emerald-green velvet, lined with fur, and Grace had gasped with delight when she opened the package Ned had brought back from the village yesterday. It was the finest garment she had ever worn.

  On impulse, she said, ‘You could come with us, if you are worried.’

  He stared. ‘To the village?’

  ‘Indeed. We will not stay above half an hour with Elizabeth and if it will set your mind—’

  ‘Take one of the men.’ He pivoted on his heel and shut the book room door firmly behind him.

  Grace bit her lip. It had been a foolish thing to suggest. Of course he would refuse.

  ‘Come, sweetie.’ She took Clara’s hand. ‘Let us go.’

  * * *

  Her bravado lasted until the final part of the track that led down to the ford. As it came into view, her heart began to thump and she clenched the reins, inadvertently pulling Bill to a halt. How she wished Nathaniel was by her side, but no sooner had that thought surfaced than she quashed it. She glanced down at Clara, sitting quietly on the bench seat beside her. A pair of solemn green eyes gazed back at her, giving her the strength to overcome her nerves and drive on. The water was back to its normal level and flow and Bill did not hesitate to plod across the ford, but still Grace held her breath the whole way and only breathed easily again once they were safely through.

  She called upon Mrs Campbell, the seamstress, and was measured for two round gowns, before calling at the rectory where a grand fuss was made of her. All the Dunns were present, as was Mr Rendell, and they demanded every detail of her accident, exclaiming with horror at her ordeal.

  ‘I am grateful for your concern,’ she said, finally, after the Reverend and Mrs Dunn had left the room. ‘But I wish now to put it behind me. I know now not to attempt the ford when there has been heavy rainfall, so it was a valuable lesson.’

  ‘A lesson? My dearest Grace, you have no need to put on a brave face for us.’ Elizabeth reached down to pluck Clara from the floor and sat her on her knee. ‘Your Miss Bertram is very brave, is she not, Clara?’

  Mr Rendell flashed a sympathetic smile at Grace. ‘Eliz...er... Miss Dunn, I believe Miss Bertram means to convey the message that she does not wish to be continually reminded of her ordeal.

  ‘Let us instead discuss Christmastide, for it is a week tomorrow, and I have traversed the length and breadth of Langthrop Wood this morning in order to discover where the best holly berries grow, only to return somewhat disheartened.’

  ‘It is a little early to cut greenery.’ Elizabeth spoke somewhat absently, engrossed by now in a game of pat-a-cake with Clara. ‘We do not decorate the church until Christmas Eve as a rule.’

  ‘I know, but last year it took us so long to locate the best berries, we were decorating the church until well after dark, if you remember. I thought to save us time on the day if I knew their location, but now it looks as though we shall have to be content with nothing brighter than green leaves.’

  ‘But I noticed an abundance of berries on my drive into the village today,’ Grace said. ‘I may not recognise many trees, but I do know holly.’

  An image flashed through her mind of Isabel, the previous Christmas, a sprig of holly with bright berries tucked into the red ribbon she had tied around her best bonnet. A wave of nostalgia hit her. How different this Christmas would be from last.

  ‘But that is Shiverstone Woods, Grace. It is on Lord Ravenwell’s land, and we could not...he does not...’ Elizabeth’s voice drifted into silence.

  ‘I shall ask his lordship for permission,’ Grace said. ‘He may choose not to attend church, but the rest of us do and I am sure he will not object—’

  ‘I do not need you to petition his lordship on my behalf,’ Mr Rendell said, firmly. ‘I shall ask him myself. In fact, with your permission, Miss Bertram, I shall accompany you back to Shiverstone Hall today in order to settle the matter.’

  ‘
But Ralph... Mr Rendell...what if Lord Ravenwell is angered?’ Elizabeth’s voice rang with fear. ‘Why do you not allow Grace to—?’

  ‘Hush, Elizabeth.’ He leaned over and patted her hand. ‘There is no need to upset yourself. The village rumours are built on fear of the unknown. His lordship was perfectly civil when last I called at the Hall and I have no fear of him. It is only right, as it is for the church, that I ask him myself. He can only refuse, but I hope he will find it harder to refuse me face to face than through the medium of an employee.’

  Ralph? Elizabeth? Grace barely paid attention to their words—she was too busy speculating over the meaning of her two friends calling one another by their given names. How romantic it would be if they were in love, and they married, and had a baby...

  She came back to the present with a start, her own name having penetrated her thoughts.

  ‘I beg your pardon?’

  ‘I said, I shall saddle my mare and then, when you are ready to leave, I shall ride back to the Hall with you. You can point out the hollies on the way. I am aware this must seem a trivial matter to you, but it is important to our congregation that the church be festively decorated to celebrate Our Lord’s birth day. And, traditionally, the villagers use any leftover greenery to decorate their cottages.’

  ‘I do not think it trivial, Mr Rendell, and I shall welcome your company on the journey home.’

  ‘That is settled then.’ Mr Rendell rose to his feet. ‘I shall leave you ladies to your gossip and I shall be ready whenever you are, Miss Bertram.’

  He bowed and left the room. Elizabeth’s gaze followed him, lingering on the closed door as though he were still in sight until, with a visible start, she appeared to recall her visitors. She glanced at Grace, a becoming flush colouring her face, and then she ducked her head, burying her face in Clara’s curls.

  ‘Mr Rendell is a very pleasant young man, is he not, Elizabeth?’

  ‘Oh, he is. He is so...oh! I simply must tell someone, but I must swear you to secrecy, Grace, for Ralph has yet to speak to Papa, but...we have an understanding.’

  Grace clasped Elizabeth’s hands. ‘I am so happy for you. I hope...do you believe your father will give his permission?’