Riding through the gates, she saw the groom, Lovel, a crimson scarf tied around his neck, and his bright shirt open, displaying a tuft of dark chest hair. He led a horse that had lost a shoe along the carriage drive to the stables. Was she being fanciful, or did he give her a look which seemed to strip her clothes from her? Uncomfortable, Vanessa looked away.
When she turned her head, he was grinning at her over his shoulder. He doffed his hat and led the horse away.
During the night, Vanessa woke as brilliant flashes of lightning appeared around the edges of the curtains and thunder rumbled across the sky overhead. Despite sleeping naked, she was too hot. She left the bed and poured herself a glass of water from the jug on the dresser. Sipping it, she walked to the window. Heavy rain began to batter against the glass. Sweeping aside the curtain, she found water on the windowsill. As she reached out to close the window, a muffled cry carried to her on the wind. She stilled, listening between claps of thunder, and it came again.
Blythe’s room was almost directly below hers. Could it be her? She had seen Lord Falconbridge departing in the carriage earlier. It was possible he had not yet returned.
Vanessa hesitated, then shrugged into her dressing gown. Tying the sash firmly, she ran along the passage and down the stairs. Reaching Blythe’s floor, she opened her door and peered inside.
A lightning flash highlighted Blythe’s small heaving body as she sat up in bed. Another clap of thunder sounded, and the child moaned with fear.
“My dear.” Vanessa hurried over to close the window. She pulled it shut and drew the curtains to cover it. She returned to Blythe and sat on the bed. “It’s only a summer storm.”
“I don’t like storms,” Blythe sobbed.
Vanessa gathered her in her arms and patted her thin back. “Lightning and thunder won’t hurt you; I promise. Why, don’t they bring rain? And rain replenishes the streams for the fish and makes the plants grow in the garden. You like the birds to have water to drink and bathe in, don’t you?”
“Y… yes.”
She smoothed the child’s hair away from her face. “Storms seem frightening, but they cannot hurt us while we are snug in our beds. Lie down and close your eyes. When you wake in the morning, it will be gone.”
“Will you stay with me for a while, Miss Ashley? Just until I’m asleep?”
“Of course, I will. Let me fluff your pillows. My mother did this for me. Is that better?”
“Thank you.” Blythe lay back and shut her eyes. She looked so delicate; the sight tore at Vanessa’s heart.
“I’ll turn down the lamp and sit in this chair by the bed, shall I?”
“Yes, please,” Blythe said in a small voice.
Vanessa curled up in the floral chintz-covered chair. The storm appeared to be abating at last. She rested her head against the chair back and watched the small form on the bed. After a couple of restless turns, Blythe settled down. Her breathing slowed.
Deciding to stay for a while longer to make sure, she was asleep. Vanessa closed her eyes.
A hand shook her shoulder. She woke with a start, her heart pounding. “Who is it?”
“You were asleep, Miss Ashley.” It was too shadowy to see his face. “I just arrived home and thought I’d look in on Blythe. And see what I found? I suspect you don’t like your bed.”
Vanessa rose, discomfited by her braided hair, and worse, her naked state beneath her dressing gown.
“I’ll turn up the lamp.” Lord Falconbridge moved to the table.
“Oh, no, please don’t,” she begged. Her sash had come loose, and a flash of pale thigh showed whenever she moved.
“It won’t wake Blythe now. See how deeply she sleeps?”
“It’s not that. I’m… not dressed.”
“Oh?” He sounded far too interested, and she flushed. “You haven’t taken to wandering the house naked, I trust.”
She felt sure his eyes twinkled with amusement and was glad she couldn’t see him too clearly. “We had a storm earlier. It woke me, and when I was closing my window, I heard Blythe crying and came down. I promised to stay with her until she fell asleep.”
His lordship didn’t immediately reply. When he did, the amused tone had vanished. “Good of you. Blythe has always been frightened of lightning and thunder.”
Vanessa clutched the thin silk of her dressing gown around her. She shoved her feet into her slippers. “I’ll return to my room now. If you’ll excuse me.”
“I am grateful, Miss Ashley.” He sat down in the chair she’d vacated and crossed his legs. “There’s no need to rise so early. I’ll alert Mrs. Royce you’ll be taking a late breakfast.”
“That’s not necessary, my lord.”
“See how you feel in the morning.”
“Thank you.” She opened the door, aware that the light shining in from the hall revealed her dishabille. “Good night, my lord.”
“Good night, Miss Ashley.”
She tiptoed along the passage to the stairs. Did his lordship intend to stay until the servants rose at six o’clock? She suspected he would. Not all fathers involved themselves in parenting or were close to their children. It must be difficult for his lordship to reconcile his love for his daughter with his passion for Lepidoptera, which resulted in long absences while on his travels in the Amazon.
Chapter Four
Lord Falconbridge came better prepared for his next lesson. He drew beautiful botanical pictures and talked about cross-pollination, which led neatly into his preferred interest in insects when he spoke of how the bees carried pollen to their hives, and how butterflies tasted through their feet.
Vanessa admired his artistic skill when drawing plants and butterflies. As he talked, she thought about his marriage. Why had his wife left? Was it because she couldn’t compete with his butterflies? And what happened to her in Paris?
Exploring the many paintings in the house, Vanessa had discovered Lady Falconbridge’s portrait hanging in the gallery. Might the artist have succeeded in capturing something of his subject’s mood? Lady Falconbridge’s eyes looked shadowed. Had she really been as exquisite as this? Her eyes were the same green as the emeralds at her throat. Her creamy-skinned shoulders and arms so perfect, she might have been carved in marble by the hand of a Grecian master. The gown she wore was like a confection made of dainty lace, ribbons, and bows.
Surprised by her curiosity and a little embarrassed, Vanessa decided not to admit to anyone that she’d seen it.
“Are you paying attention, Miss Ashley?” Lord Falconbridge was holding up a picture of a plant stamen.
“Yes, my lord.”
“I may set a test.”
Vanessa laughed, and to her delight Blythe joined in.
He packed away his books.
“Father, can we ride tomorrow?”
As the conversation batted back and forth between them, with his lordship explaining why it was unwise, Vanessa learned that Blythe had not been on horseback this summer. She’d been quite ill with a chest complaint, and the doctor told them she was to avoid strenuous exercise. Her illness would account for the effort Mrs. Royce took to get her to eat properly.
“But that was ages ago, Father,” Blythe pleaded.
His expression softened. “You do appear to be much better now.”
Blythe clapped her hands. “You’ll ride with us, won’t you, Miss Ashley?”
Vanessa was so pleased to find Blythe so enthusiastic, it took a moment for her question to filter into her thoughts.
“Do you ride, Miss Ashley?” His lordship asked.
“I’m afraid I am not accomplished in the country pursuit.” She did not excel at dancing either although she did love it so.
His eyebrows rose. “If you can ride that bicycle of yours, you can stay on a horse.”
“Bicycles don’t bite, my lord.”
Blythe chortled. “But our horses don’t bite, Miss Ashley.”
Vanessa gave in. “Very well. As long as I’m not required to jump he
dges. Or ride to hounds.”
His lordship’s lip quirked. “We won’t subject you or the horse to that.”
He no doubt found her amusing. Vanessa bowed her head over her notes to hide the warmth in her cheeks. She felt a prickle of annoyance at being made to feel inept. Surely, a governess was not required to ride as well as teach her pupil.
“I’ll take you both riding tomorrow. We’ll see what you can do. Did you bring a riding outfit?”
“Yes.” She had her divided skirt that she wore on the bicycle. It would have to do although it was a horrid shade of pea-green. There wasn’t much choice of colors when she bought it.
“Blythe, take Miss Ashley to the stables and show her the horses. Ask Lovel to select one for her.”
Blythe smiled, her eyes dancing. “Yes, Father.”
“And be sure to tell him Miss Ashley cannot ride.”
“I believe I can speak for myself, Lord Falconbridge,” Vanessa said, failing to disguise her annoyance, which she suspected had more to do with her own shortcomings.
“I’m merely considering your safety, Miss Ashley,” his lordship said mildly.
Vanessa fell silent. His rational explanations always made her feel as if she was being unreasonable. If she wasn’t a lowly member of the staff, she might fare better in an argument, but she doubted it.
Blythe fetched a carrot from the kitchen and led Vanessa past a tennis court to the stable block.
“Hello, Jim.” Blythe called to a rangy young stable boy who was scrubbing the cobbles in the stable yard. “This is Miss Ashley, my new governess.”
He put down his brush, straightened and removed his hat. “Miss Blythe. Miss Ashley.”
Vanessa smiled. “Nice to meet you, Jim.”
The dark-haired groom emerged from the stables, a leather brace in his hands. “Miss Blythe.”
“Lovel, this is Miss Ashley.”
Lovel inclined his head in a respectful gesture, but not before Vanessa caught the appraising glance from his dark eyes. He had a Romani name, and his looks confirmed it with swarthy skin and coal-black hair growing low on his cheeks, his mouth sensual and full-lipped below a bushy moustache.
“Planning to ride today, Miss Blythe?”
“Not today. Father is to ride with us tomorrow,” Blythe said. “He’d like you to choose a horse for Miss Ashley.”
“A gentle horse, if you please,” Vanessa said. “We didn’t ride often in Cornwall.”
“Cornish, are ye? Don’t have the accent.”
“No, neither I nor my parents were born there.” Vanessa didn’t resent his curiosity, after all, she was hired help herself, but there was something about his manner, which troubled her. Lovel’s black-eyed gaze lingered too long on her body. She shifted uncomfortably before he turned toward a stall. “Flora is a good choice.”
“Oh, yes, Flora is perfect.” Blythe was a different child today. Far more animated than Vanessa had seen her. They followed the big man over to a stall where a dainty roan tossed her head and whickered.
Vanessa watched Lovel handle the horse. Under his gentle, sure touch, the horse obeyed without question. He led her out into the enclosure for Vanessa to meet.
Relieved the horse was small in stature, Vanessa patted the mare’s nose. “I think you’ll do very nicely, Flora.”
Lovel led the horse back to her stall. He tugged his forelock, but the roguish expression in his dark eyes made a mockery of the gesture. “Now if you’ll excuse me, ladies. I have my work to do.” He picked up a harness from the workbench. Jiggling it in his big hands, he strode away.
Blythe fed the carrot to a gray with a white patch on her nose. “Meet my horse, Buttercup.”
“What a pretty horse,” Vanessa said.
“She’s a beauty, aren’t you, Buttercup?” Blythe put her arms around the horse’s neck.
When they left the stables, Blythe was still filled with energy. “Shall we walk through the woods?”
Vanessa recalled her father’s warning. “Not today.”
Blythe danced over the grass like a puppy released from its leash. “Let’s not go back to the house yet,” she begged. “Would you like to see the rose garden and the fountain?”
Vanessa smiled. “Very well, lead on Macduff.”
They followed a stone path to a wooden seat beneath a rose arbor and sat to enjoy the soothing sounds of water cascading into a pool from a marble lady’s upheld urn.
“Why did you leave your home in Cornwall?” Blythe asked.
“I had to earn my living, and your father kindly offered me the position.”
“Did you always want to be a governess?”
“Not exactly. I did wish to have a profession and put my education to good use. Do you know, Blythe, women can study at Oxford University, although they aren’t able to gain a degree as yet. I expect that to change during your lifetime.”
Blythe’s eyes widened. “I would like to do that.”
“An admirable goal. But you would be required to work hard at your lessons to achieve it. What if I set you a task? You can choose a famous woman to study. We’ll search your father’s library for information.”
Blythe picked a rosehip and examined it. “How does a lady become famous?”
“By excelling in some way. Well, let’s see. Mary Kingsley is a famous explorer. She traveled through Africa much as your father does. Marie Curie is a scientist. Florence Nightingale and Mary Seacole transformed the nursing profession. Lilian Murray is the first woman dentist. Marianne North was an artist who traveled the world and painted.”
“Can I study two of them?”
“Yes, if you like.”
“Then I’ll pick Marie Curie and Mary Kingsley. I should like to be both a scientist and an explorer like my father.” She turned around eagerly. “Here’s Father now.”
As he came down the steps toward them, Blythe rushed to him. “Father, Miss Ashley is teaching me about famous women explorers and scientists. I should like to go to Oxford University to study. Do you think I could?”
“We shall have to see, Blythe.”
Vanessa hoped his lordship approved of her modern teaching methods.
“You’ve selected a mount?” he asked.
“I have, yes. A small, hopefully well-mannered beast.”
“We’ll have you riding as well as Blythe in no time.” His lordship looked alarmingly purposeful.
Vanessa very much doubted it but saw little point in saying it.
“You do like horses, don’t you, Miss Ashley?” Blythe sounded incredulous that anyone wouldn’t.
“I like all animals.” Vanessa recalled uneasily she’d been bitten on the arm by a bad-tempered pony as a child.
With a feather-light tap on Blythe’s head, Lord Falconbridge walked away in the direction of the stables.
Vanessa watched him, enjoying his easy stride. The man was inherently graceful.
A sharp breeze stirred the branches. A fine mist rose from the fountain as the day turned unseasonably cool.
“I think we should return to the house.” Vanessa glanced at Blythe, who had on only her thin dress and smock. She’d begun rubbing her arms. “Let’s walk briskly, shall we?” She would hate her to fall sick.
In the schoolroom, Vanessa went straight to the window and pulled back the curtains to let in the light. “Why are the curtains partly closed in most of the rooms?” she asked Blythe.
“Mrs. Royce is afraid the sun will fade the carpets.”
“I don’t think she’ll mind in here, do you?”
Blythe shook her head. A shaft of warm sunlight came to rest on her face and brightened all the colors in the room.
They settled down to begin the new book just as Agnes brought in the tea things.
Blythe nibbled a crumpet. “Don’t tell Father, but we have fairies in the garden,” she said between bites, the honey dribbling onto her chin. Trusting violet eyes met Vanessa’s.
“There are?” Vanessa smiled, delighted that Blythe c
onfided in her.
“Sometimes, very late at night when I can’t sleep, I sit at the window and watch the pair of dancing lights through the trees. They always go into the folly. I’d love to meet them.”
“What makes you think they’re fairies?”
“Miss Lillicrop said the lights must be fairies when I asked her.”
“But she didn’t say she saw them?” Her fingers found the prickle of unease tickling her nape.
“Not exactly, but she showed me pictures of fairies. One night I will go and meet them.”
Vanessa leaned over and touched the girl’s arm. “Promise me you won’t.”
Blythe tilted her head. “But why not? Fairies won’t hurt you, you know.”
Putting down her teacup, Vanessa turned to the book, keeping her voice casual. “Your father wouldn’t like it. If I found out you went there at night alone, I would be compelled to inform him.”
Blythe gasped. “Oh, no. Promise you won’t tell him I watch them from my window.”
“We’ll make an agreement, shall we? I won’t tell him if you promise to come and collect me before you go roaming the gardens.”
Once Blythe agreed, Vanessa opened the book to read, hoping she would soon forget about the lights in the garden. If it was a lovers’ tryst, it seemed likely their meetings would end when the weather grew colder.
Vanessa distracted Blythe with a book, determined to discover more about the mysterious lights herself, as soon as she could.
The next day, having a few moments to spare before lessons began, Vanessa slipped down through the gardens. She found the head gardener in the rose garden deadheading spent roses. She cleared her throat, and the man straightened and removed his cap to reveal graying brown hair.
“Hello. I’m Miss Ashley, the new governess. I’ve been admiring the gardens. They are glorious.”
“Thompson, miss.” He nodded. “Thank you, we take considerable pride in ’em.”
“Someone was seen carrying a lantern through the gardens during the night, Thompson. Would that be you or your men? Perhaps a spade had been forgotten?”
He frowned and reached down to pick up the spade resting against the wall. “We take good care of our tools, miss. They’re valuable implements. See the fine workmanship.” He ran his hand lovingly down the handle. “Beech that is; no way we’d leave it out in all weathers. No, indeed, miss. We all go home at night.”
The Mystery at Falconbridge Hall Page 4