The Governess's Secret Baby

by Janice Preston

  Nathaniel’s gaze tracked the movement of her hand, then lifted to her face and she saw the heat banked in his eyes. Anticipation tugged deep within her, but there was no time to dally.

  ‘How are Ralph and Elizabeth? Have they settled into the vicarage?’ she asked, to distract him.

  Nathaniel and Clara had been to visit the newly married Rendells in their new home, taking with them a bunch of freshly gathered mistletoe. The elderly incumbent of the local church, St Thomas’s, had recently retired and Nathaniel had gifted the living to Ralph Rendell.

  ‘They have and they are as happy a pair of lovebirds as ever I did see—except for us, my darling, irresistible wife.’

  He cradled Grace’s face and brushed a kiss to her lips. Then his eyes darkened and he lowered his head again, and kissed her until her insides were molten. But, this time, she must resist and, hands on his chest, she pushed him away.

  ‘Nathaniel! Our visitors will be here any minute.’

  He chuckled and kissed her again. ‘It is precisely because their arrival is imminent that I am taking advantage whilst I may. You must not begrudge me a little sustenance to see me through the next few hours.’

  ‘Papa! Mama!’ Clara tugged at Nathaniel’s sleeve for attention.

  Grace’s heart swelled. Clara might never discover that Grace was her natural mother but, once she and Nathaniel had wed, they had agreed Clara would be their adopted daughter and they would be her father and mother from that day forward.

  Nathaniel scooped Clara high. He put his lips to her cheek and blew, making a rude noise that had Clara giggling and squirming in his arms as they all made their way to the front door. Their servants were beginning to congregate in the hall, ready to conduct the visitors to their bedchambers.

  ‘The Reverend Rendell was most appreciative of the mistletoe,’ Nathaniel said, with a grin, as they reached the double entrance door, standing wide in readiness. ‘In fact...’ he tipped his head towards Grace, lowering his voice ‘...nothing would do for our new vicar than to test it out with his bride. I don’t know...’ he shook his head, his brown eyes brimming with merriment ‘...if that is the way a man of the cloth sees fit to behave in full view of his benefactor, what hope is there for society?

  ‘They send their pleased acceptance of our invitation to join us for Christmas dinner, by the way.’

  ‘How lovely it will be to have our friends all here,’ Grace said. ‘Mother is delighted at the prospect of seeing a full dining table at the Manor once again.’

  Nathaniel’s mother—after a distrustful start with her new daughter-in-law—had soon accepted Grace and they were now firm friends. She now lived in the Dower House on the estate, but she visited almost every day.

  The rumble of the carriage wheels and the hoofbeats of eighteen horses—three teams of four, plus six outriders—grew ever louder as they reached the end of the long, straight carriageway that led from the road and negotiated the turning circle that would bring them to the front steps of the Manor.

  The sky was uniformly white, with not a hint of grey, and the air was still—almost as though it held its breath in anticipation. Nathaniel had predicted snow and Grace breathed a silent thank you that it had held off until the travellers arrived.

  The carriages halted and the silence—punctuated only by the occasional jingle of a bit or stamp of a hoof—was deafening in its own way. A sudden attack of nerves assailed Grace. It had been almost a year and a half since she had seen her beloved friends.

  Will they be different? What will they think of me? What will their husbands be like? What if—?

  She felt Nathaniel’s hand at the small of her back, large and reassuring. She glanced up at him.

  ‘Don’t be nervous. You will be fine. You’ll see.’

  His eyes met hers, steady and confident with no sign of apprehension, and Grace marvelled at the change in him since the day they met. And then there was no more time to worry, for carriage doors were being flung wide and there they were.

  Joanna. Rachel. Isabel. Three dear, familiar faces.

  Tears blurred Grace’s vision and she blinked rapidly, so as not to appear an emotional fool and yet...

  They came together in a rush: hugging, kissing and exclaiming.

  And tearful—even Joanna, who had never, ever been seen to cry before.

  All four of them, in a laughing circle, with tears rolling unashamedly down their cheeks.

  * * *

  Isabel peered out of the window. ‘Now that we are safely arrived, I declare it may snow to its heart’s content.’

  They were gathered in the drawing room after a delicious luncheon.

  Grace joined her. ‘I believe you will get your wish.’ She lowered her voice. ‘You will tell me if there is anything you need, will you not, Isabel?’

  ‘Thank you, Grace, darling, but you must not worry about me. I feel exceedingly well. Blossoming, you might say.’ Isabel smiled, and placed her hands either side of her swollen belly with a sigh of contentment.

  It was chilly by the window and they moved nearer to the warmth of the fire.

  ‘Do you really think it will snow, Lady Ravenwell?’

  Grace smiled at the handsome young boy’s serious expression. Rachel’s stepson, Aahil, had never seen snow in his life. Neither had his younger sister and brother, Ameera and Hakim, who both sprawled on the floor next to Clara, playing with her Noah’s Ark.

  ‘I think it will, Aahil. And then...’ Grace eyed each of her friends in turn ‘...we will build a snowman. Do you remember—?’

  ‘The Christmas before last!’ Isabel’s blue eyes sparkled. ‘We all stayed at school and we built the biggest snowman...’

  Joanna, sitting on the sofa, newly born Edward cradled in her arms, smiled. ‘That was such a happy Christmas.’

  ‘This one will be better.’ Rachel sat next to Joanna and leaned over to admire the babe. ‘He is soooo sweet, Joanna.’ There was a note of longing in her voice. ‘May I hold him?’

  ‘Of course.’ Joanna passed her son to Rachel, who crooned softly until he settled again.

  ‘Our snowman will be bigger and better.’ Hakim, hopping from foot to foot in his excitement, joined Aahil. ‘Will it snow, Lady Ravenwell? Will it snow, do you think?’

  Hakim had seemed timid on first arrival, but had soon lost his shyness with all these new people. His father, Malik—exotically dark and impossibly handsome, with piercing eyes—broke off his discussion with Nathaniel about hawking, a popular means of hunting in his beloved Huria.

  ‘Calm down, Hakim, or I shall send you to the nursery,’ he said. ‘If the Fates smile upon us, it will snow. Bombarding her ladyship with questions will change nothing.’

  ‘He is excited, Malik. And full of energy after spending so many days cooped up in the carriage,’ Rachel said, as she cradled Edward.

  ‘As am I.’ Luke, Joanna’s husband, stood up and stretched. ‘I beg your pardon, ladies, but I need to work off some of this energy. Ravenwell, I believe you mentioned a couple of new hunters? Any chance of putting them through their paces?’

  All four men perked up and Grace found herself exchanging knowing looks of amusement with her three friends.

  ‘Indeed. However, before that...’ Nathaniel turned to Aahil. ‘How would you like to help us bring home the Yule log, young man?’ He cocked a brow at Malik. ‘I don’t know if you’re familiar with the tradition, Al-Mahrouky, but the Yule log is specially selected to burn the full twelve days of Christmastide. It is brought indoors on Christmas Eve and lit and then, if possible, a piece is saved on Twelfth Night to light the following year’s Yule log.’

  ‘But it is not Christmas Eve until tomorrow,’ Joanna said, from her seat on the sofa. ‘Will that not bring bad luck?’

  ‘We will not tempt fate by bringing it indoors until t
omorrow, but we must drag the log closer to the house before it snows. We can leave it in one of the outbuildings overnight. What do you say, Aahil? Are you feeling strong?’

  ‘May I, Father?’

  ‘Very well, son.’

  ‘Me too!’ Hakim bounced up and down.

  ‘May I come too?’ Ameera stood up.

  ‘Me, me, me!’ Clara shouted, scrambling to her feet, lining up with Ameera and Hakim in front of Nathaniel. ‘Papa. Papa. Pleeease.’

  ‘Clara, I do not think—’

  ‘Pleeeaaase, Papa.’ She turned beseeching eyes to Grace. ‘Mama, please.’

  Grace raised her brows at Nathaniel. She saw him bite back his smile and she knew he would be helpless to refuse those three pleading faces.

  ‘Al-Mahrouky?’ Nathaniel directed his question at the Sheikh, who nodded.

  ‘Very well,’ Nathaniel said to the three. ‘If you promise faithfully to do exactly as you are told, you may come.’

  ‘Thank you,’ they chorused.

  Ameera, tugging Clara with her, moved closer to Nathaniel. ‘Does that hurt?’ She pointed to Nathaniel’s scarred cheek.

  There was the sound of indrawn breath and Rachel straightened as though to remonstrate with Ameera, but Grace caught her eye and shook her head.

  Nathaniel smiled down at Ameera. ‘No. Not now,’ he said. Then he crouched down before the three youngest children. ‘But it hurt a great deal at the time and that is the reason you must always be very careful with fire.’

  ‘I am pleased it doesn’t hurt,’ Ameera announced. ‘May we go outside now, please, Lord Ravenwell?’

  Nathaniel laughed as he stood up. ‘Yes, Ameera, we will go now.’ He winked at Grace. ‘We’ll take a couple of footmen to help with the children. It will give you ladies a chance to catch up with the gossip.’

  William, his light brown eyes creased with amusement, said, ‘Judging by the non-stop chatter since our arrival, I cannot credit there is any subject still uncovered. They already appear to have catalogued the happenings of every single day since last they met.’

  ‘You, Mr Balfour, are a tease.’ Isabel slapped her husband playfully on the arm. ‘Run along and play, you men, and leave your womenfolk in peace. We still have many important matters to discuss.’

  ‘Important matters! Ha!’ Luke stooped to kiss Joanna on the cheek. ‘Children and babies, I’ll be bound.’

  ‘Are you suggesting that children and babies are not important, my dear?’ Joanna regarded her husband quizzically.

  He laughed. ‘You have me there, my sweet. Children and babies are, of course, the most important of all things. I stand corrected.’ He reached out and tickled Edward’s pudgy cheek with a gentle finger. ‘I fear you must wait a year or two to join us, my son, but at least you shall stay nice and snug indoors whilst we men brave the elements.’

  After the men and children had gone, Edward’s nursemaid whisked him off to the nursery and the four girls were left together.

  ‘Ravenwell Manor is wonderful, Grace. It is so modern, so beautifully appointed, and this room is exquisite,’ Isabel said.

  Rachel and Joanna nodded their agreement.

  ‘It was completely rebuilt after the fire.’ Grace gazed around the drawing room, her favourite room in the house, decorated in shades of green and cream. ‘Nathaniel’s mother planned the décor.’

  ‘Is that the fire that injured Nathaniel?’ Joanna asked in her soft voice.

  ‘Yes. He went back inside to rescue his father, but he was too late.’

  Pride swelled at his bravery and at his courage in facing a full life once again, for her sake and for Clara’s, and now...she placed her hand against her stomach...for their future family as well.

  Grace looked up and found Rachel watching her, an unfathomable expression on her face.

  ‘Are you quite well, Rachel?’

  Pink suffused Rachel’s cheeks. ‘Are you...are you increasing, Grace?’

  Isabel’s head jerked up, her copper curls bouncing. ‘Really? Are you, Grace? Why have you not told us? How exciting. We shall all be mothers together.’

  ‘Isabel! Really. Calm down,’ Joanna said, with a laugh. ‘Grace has not answered Rachel yet and you are already three jumps ahead of us. You do not change.’

  They all laughed.

  ‘I’m sorry, Grace. But...is it true?’

  ‘Yes! We will have a brother or a sister for Clara by the early summer, God willing.’

  Then she recalled Rachel’s expression. Would her news upset her friend? There had been something...that longing in her voice, earlier, and the look in her eyes when she held baby Edward...

  Hoping and praying there was nothing amiss, she said, ‘Your time will come, Rachel. You have only been wed nine months and—’

  ‘I think I am with child.’ Rachel blurted out her news with a blush.

  The gasps were audible, then they all spoke at once.

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘How do you know?’

  ‘But you never wanted children.’

  ‘A lady can change her mind,’ she said primly, in reply to that last comment from Isabel, and then she burst out laughing. ‘I am not certain, but I’m fairly sure. I haven’t even told Malik yet... I did not dare, for fear he would stop me journeying here for Christmas.’

  A contented glow suffused Rachel’s face as she added, ‘He is very protective.’

  ‘So we will truly all be mothers. With children by the men we love. How glorious is that?’ Isabel stood, flinging her arms wide, and then twirled in a circle. ‘Two years ago, we were all dreading our futures as put-upon drudges and now...look at us. Married ladies all and with children we never expected to bear.’

  ‘Except for Grace,’ Joanna said. ‘Do you know, Grace, for all it was such a terrifying ordeal for you, in a way I envied you. You would be the only one of us to be a mother. Even though you had to give Clara away, still you had experienced the most wonderful thing that can ever happen to a woman.’

  Grace clasped Joanna’s hands, understanding the pain of her childhood with no family to love her. They had that in common.

  ‘I never knew you felt that way, Joanna. I never believed anyone could envy what happened to me. But I see, in a way, what you mean. I always knew that somewhere in this world there was a part of me. I bless the day Miss Fanworth told me the names of Clara’s adopted parents.’

  ‘We have both found true families now, Grace. Although...’ Joanna paused, her brow wrinkled with thought ‘...I eventually came to realise that Madame Dubois did love me, in her own way. She and the rest of the teachers were a kind of family to me, but I was too busy envying the other girls and their conventional families to realise it.’

  Rachel laughed. ‘No one could ever accuse my family of being conventional but, speaking of Madame, it is fortunate she never found out about the baby, Grace, or your life might have turned out very differently.’

  ‘Ah, now that is where you are mistaken,’ Grace said. She told them what Madame had told her the previous Christmas. ‘She turned a blind eye because she knew my uncle would cast me out.’

  ‘So the sly old thing knew all the time. Well, well.’ Isabel subsided into an armchair.

  ‘Talking of Madame,’ Joanna said, ‘I have some marvellous news about her and also about the school and Miss Fanworth.’ She paused for effect, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

  ‘Hurry up and tell us.’

  ‘Stop teasing, Joanna.’

  ‘Tell us quickly before I burst!’

  ‘We-e-e-ll...’ Joanna eked out the moment, clearly enjoying being the news bearer.

  ‘Joanna!’ Isabel, sitting next to Joanna on the sofa, nudged her. ‘Tell us. I am in a delicate condition, don’t you know, and I must not be stressed.’
>
  Joanna laughed. ‘Oh, very well. Do you remember the Duke of Wakefield?’

  ‘Yes, of course. I told you about him at that soirée last Christmas Eve and I wrote to Grace and Rachel about him.’

  ‘And he visited Madame last Christmastide, when Clara and I were there,’ Grace said, ‘and Madame told me her tragic love story. I wrote to all of you about that. And I do know Madame fully recovered from her illness, for Miss Fanworth wrote and told me so.’

  ‘Yes, she has recovered. In fact, she has so far recovered that she wed her Duke last week, and Madame Dubois is henceforth to be addressed as her Grace the Duchess of Wakefield.’

  ‘A duchess?’

  ‘How do you know?’

  ‘Why did you not say before?’

  ‘Yes, a duchess. And I know because Luke and I attended the wedding. And I did not say before because we had so much else to share.’

  ‘So Madame has her happy-ever-after as well,’ Rachel said. ‘I am so pleased for her.’

  ‘And the school?’ Grace asked. ‘You said you had news about the school.’

  ‘She has gifted it to Miss Fanworth, who is now the principal.’

  ‘So, we four and Madame get our handsome princes, and poor Miss Fanworth gets a pile of bricks and mortar.’

  ‘Isabel!’

  ‘Anyway,’ Grace said, with a sly glance around her friends, ‘there is always Signor Bertolli.’

  She mimicked his Italian accent and twirled an imaginary moustache and the others burst into fits of giggles. They had long speculated over the Italian art master and his apparent liking for the plump, motherly Miss Fanworth.

  Without Madame and her iron discipline at the school, who knew what that feisty Italian gentleman might get up to?

  Christmas Eve

  Grace awoke the following morning and rolled over to face Nathaniel. He still slept, warm and tousled and delicious. Stealthily, she leaned over and kissed his lips. He stirred and reached for her, eyes still shut.

  ‘You are insatiable, woman,’ he grumbled as he drew her close.

  She snuggled against him, reaching between them as his hand delved for the hem of her nightdress and trailed up her bare leg.