“I am sorry,” she said in a whisper. “But he is not like . . . the others.” She covered her face with her hands, and even Dina felt sympathy for the idiot girl.
“There will be a great deal of unraveling to do regarding all that has happened,” David said to the group when it became clear that Miss Johansson was not going to further explain herself. He appeared calm and collected, but Dina knew his heart was aching. “But I have an apology to offer of my own that I would like to have witnessed here.” His eyes remained fixed on Miss Johansson, softening slightly as she lowered her hands and wiped at her eyes. “I offered you marriage for several reasons, Fiona: my mother’s encouragements, the connection of your excellent family, your ability to manage the social expectations of the place I have hoped to fill in English society, but I never professed to love you, and as our engagement has continued I have feared that I would never be able to give you that. I am not sure that Mr. Littlefield can offer you that either, but you deserve the chance to try and have my blessing to do so.”
She sniffed, looking confused. “You are breaking our engagement?”
“As far as I am concerned, that was broken the first time you took liberty with Mr. Littlefield, unless your mother is implying there have been others since we reached our understanding.”
He raised his eyebrows, and she looked at her plate. Dina was tempted to throw her wine in the woman’s face. How could she treat a man like David this way?
David nodded toward the doorway Mr. Littlefield had left through. “If you hurry, you may be able to catch him before he leaves, as I’m sure that is his intention.”
She hesitated a moment but then jumped to her feet and fairly ran from the room in pursuit of the man she’d chosen over David. For all her poise, elegance, grace, and beauty—she was the stupidest girl Dina had ever met. Bless her.
“Mother.”
Heads moved again. Mrs. Macarthur was still standing, her face slack and her eyes wide. “Did you tell Dina to leave London all those years ago for my sake?”
Mrs. Macarthur recovered her expression enough to shoot an accusing look at Dina.
“I asked you a question, Mother,” he said, drawing Mrs. Macarthur’s attention back to himself. “A few days ago, when she tried to explain her reasons for leaving so suddenly all those years ago, she used a particular phrase you yourself have used numerous times as we have discussed my future—that I needed the right English bride so as to have the right English future. I suspect that is not a coincidence. After all these years of doing everything you asked of me, I think you owe me an honest answer. Did you tell Dina that she was holding me back from the ambitions you had so carefully crafted for my life?”
Seconds ticked by as everyone at the table waited for answers, the room so quiet they could hear the sputter of the candles. When Mrs. Macarthur spoke, her voice was puckered with emotion. “I have only wanted what was best for you, David. You are my only son.”
“That is not what I asked. Did you tell Dina to leave?”
“I did not,” she said after several seconds, her voice confident. “I only asked her to consider what she was taking away from you.”
David’s eyes turned to Dina, and she could barely breathe under the power of his stare. No one would dare lie to him, least of all her. “Is that true?”
Dina nodded. “And she was right, David.”
His surprise was displayed by the flicker of his eyebrows and tightening of his already tight jaw. She swallowed and pretended they did not have an audience. “We were so very young, David. You were not established, and I was not the kind of woman a man like you needed if he were to reach his potential. Once I understood the price one of us or both of us would have to pay if I stayed, I knew what had to be done. I could not be a burden to you and the connection between us was so . . .” She searched for the best word. “So . . .”
“Encompassing,” David said softly. Intimately.
Dina felt tears rise in her eyes as the depth of their feelings settled upon her. Feelings she had thought were in the past but weren’t. “It was too much too soon, a fire we did not know how to control.”
“And now?” David asked, his voice low and anxious as though they were alone.
The air pushed from her lungs, and the first tear slid down her cheek. “We are different people on different paths. I am only in England because of Mary’s mercy.”
“Dina,” Mary said with a catch in her voice. Dina silenced her with a look and a smile of thanks.
“I have always known it, Mary, and am grateful for your care of me, but the class distance between David and I is no small thing and cannot be changed. His opportunities would be less with me at his side, which is why I gave him up.” She swallowed the lump in her throat but could not pull back the tears. “And look at what he’s become. It was the right course.”
David’s eyes closed slowly, and his chin dropped to his chest. Mrs. Havershorn reached for Dina’s hand, and Dina returned the grasp as though that were the only thing that would keep her from sinking through the chair. A minute ago, she’d appreciated David’s bold honesty; now that same virtue felt as though it were slicing her to ribbons from the inside out.
“What of now?”
It took Dina a moment to realize it was Mr. Jennings who had spoken. David turned to look at him, and Mr. Jennings looked between his wife, Dina, and David. “Marriage is a very complex arrangement,” he said slowly, as though picking his words carefully. Several heads at the table nodded in agreement. “Love and connection will never be enough by themselves, but I believe those are seeds God bestows upon people so that they can push through the difficulties of accepting that someone else’s needs are as important as their own. If what David and Dina feel for one another is so encompassing, and they are at a point in life where he is capable of the security she deserves and she is willing to rise to the responsibilities of being his helpmeet, what is left to question?”
“She is a governess,” Mrs. Donning said, wrinkling her nose as she glanced in Dina’s direction. She looked her up and down, then nodded as though Dina’s out-of-date dress and mismatched pearls confirmed the sentence already stated.
“Yes,” David’s mother echoed, looking at her son. “You are a man of consequence. You need a wife who will be taken seriously amid the circles you inhabit.” She flicked a glance toward Dina, who looked back at David, her heart pounding. He continued to stare at the table, and Dina sensed that his mother had given the wrong answer. Or at least, an incomplete one. He still did not know that Dina had confided in his mother. She was still manipulating the situation.
“David,” Dina said.
He lifted his chin and looked at her.
“At the risk of making all of this worse.” She waved her hand as indication of the situation that was so much bigger than this one conversation around this one table. “I think you deserve to know everything so that you can make the right decision for yourself. But know as I say this, that you owe me nothing.” She paused and took a breath. “I left London to preserve your ambitions, not because my heart had changed. I cried through the entire journey back to Braemar, and in all the time since, another man has not entered my thoughts let alone tempted my heart. I am madly and completely in love with you, but I cannot be the sort of wife Miss Johansson could be to you. That awareness is—”
“She is a governess!” Mrs. Donning screeched.
“Well, I think we’ve heard enough of that,” Mr. Donning said, balling up his serviette and throwing it atop his dinner plate as he kicked back his chair. He moved around to his wife’s chair and pulled it back, nearly spilling her on the floor in the process. Mrs. Donning sputtered in offense as her husband took her by the hand and pulled her to her feet. “Choose a partner who can go the distance and make you proud. In my experience, social responsibility will never be more important than trust, respect, and genuine care for one another.” He kept hold of his wife’s hand and looked at her with both tenderness and irritation b
efore looking back at David. “Marriage also lasts a very, very long time. Please excuse us.” He gave a quick bow and led his now quiet wife from the room.
“David,” Mrs. Macarthur said with reprimand as soon as the Donnings were gone. “Be sensible.”
“By following your choice for me even after what we have learned here tonight?” David lifted his eyebrows and let out a single punching laugh. “Do you care so little about me that you would choose a future with a woman such as Miss Johansson because it would give the right appearance?”
“The Johanssons are powerful people; any man would be lucky to connect themselves to them.”
“Not any man,” Mr. Jennings cut in, shaking his head. “I would not trade a faithful woman for anything.” He reached for Mary’s hand, and she smiled sweetly at him. “Social influence is a matter to consider, but it is not the most important one.”
“Enough!” Mrs. Macarthur shouted, glaring at Mr. Jennings for going against her.
“I think I would like for you to leave, Mother,” David said. “We shall talk after I have sorted things with Lady Clairmont.”
Mrs. Macarthur went very still and made a patting motion with her hand as though wanting to press down the tension of the room. “David, do not misunderstand—”
“Goodnight, Mother.”
She let out an exaggerated breath. “I only—”
“Good. Night,” he said between clenched teeth.
“We will see you to your room, Auntie,” Mary said, rising. Mr. Jennings also rose and came around to put out his arm. She hesitated another moment but then stormed from the room with Mr. Jennings at her heels. He paused to whisper something to the head footman standing near the doorway before exiting the room.
Mary approached David, bent down, and kissed him on both cheeks before coming around the table and doing the same to Dina, whose cheeks were wet with tears as she accepted the Scottish blessing.
“Beannachd Dia dhuit,” she whispered—God be with you. The same blessing Dina had shared with David only a few days ago when she believed he was lost to her.
“Tapadh leat,” Dina answered—thank you.
By the time she finished, the Havershorns were halfway to the door as well. The footmen followed, and the door to the dining room closed behind them. Dina and David, sitting nearly opposite one another at the now empty table, looked across the barely touched dishes and half-filled wine glasses. When he stood, she did the same but waited for him to come to her. When he did, he took both of her hands. The power of his touch made her feel instantly drunk.
“Are you truly in love with me still?”
“David,” she said, shaking her head. “I am a governess.”
“You are Cullodina, the keeper of my heart. Do you truly love me still?”
Looking in his eyes she could see the boy and the young man and the man he was now, each of them open to her, pleading for the truth she could not hold back. “Madly and completely,” she whispered.
“And can you accept the terms of being my wife?”
She gave a watery laugh. “What are the terms?”
He smiled, then reached out and touched her hair. She closed her eyes, afraid her knees might give out. “I will not choose my mother over you, but neither will I choose against her. I will apply myself to repairing my relationship with her and will need your support.”
“I can abide yer mother,” Dina said. “After all, you are her only son.”
He smiled. “And though I love Scotland and want time there, I must live the majority of my time in England where my principal interests lie.”
“Living in England has not turned me into dust, but I would love to visit Scotland when possible. I miss it so.”
“Aye, as do I.” He smiled again and placed his hand on her cheek. She leaned into it and closed her eyes.
“What else?”
He leaned close enough that she could feel his breath on her cheek. “At night, when the lights are out, and we are tangled together, you must tell me in Gaelic how madly and completely you love me.”
“Till all the seas gang dry.”
He kissed her then, with all the fervor of youth and confidence of the man he had become, and she kissed him back with all the love of a Scottish lass who’d done right and gotten right for it in the end.
Josi S. Kilpack has written twenty-five novels, a cookbook, and several novellas. She is a four-time Whitney award winner, including Best Novel 2015 for Lord Fenton's Folly, and has been a Best of State winner for Fiction. Josi loves to bake, sleep, eat, read, travel, and watch TV—none of which she gets to do as much as she would like. She hates to talk on the phone, learn how to do new things, and sweep—all of which she gets to do a lot :-)
Josi and her husband, Lee, have four children and live in Northern Utah. For more information about Josi, you can visit her website at www.josiskilpack.com
The One-Year Governess
By Heather B. Moore
Chapter 1
1815
When the two-story manor came into view, Captain Hudson Ridout’s black mood shifted to something more like gray. The war was over, and Hudson had decided that instead of joining his friends in making up for the years of serving in the Royal Navy by drinking, gambling, and flirting with every light-skirt in sight, he’d visit his brother, Jasper, and his new wife, Diana.
Except they’d been married ten years now. So not new anymore.
And they had two children. A boy named Andrew, who must be about nine years of age, and a daughter named Charlotte, who was nearing eight.
Hudson was quite good with numbers and dates.
He still remembered the wedding the week before he entered the service. As the second son, he’d been expected to go into the army or the navy. Hudson never cared that his older brother would inherit everything, because Hudson had been infatuated with the sea since his father had first taken him to visit the London docks.
Their home village was just outside of Norland, and Hudson had no interest in being a landowner like his brother. Even if it meant the ancestral home.
Slowly his mind had changed over the past few months.
To live in a place that didn’t change every moment. That wasn’t buffeted by the high seas. That wasn’t at the mercy of Mother Nature. That wasn’t filled with sailors and officers at every turn. A place that contained more colors than blue and gray.
As Hudson turned his horse up the road leading to Branhall Manor, he wondered what his brother would think of his visit. Surely they’d both aged and changed. Likely Hudson had changed the most. He was well aware that his lean body was too thin, the scar on his jaw was still pink, and his poorly mended broken ankle made him limp like a cripple at the end of a long day.
He hoped for long days now, not the kind on a Royal Navy ship but days that consisted of reading a book, walking through a garden, eating without being rushed, and not wondering if today would be his last day on earth.
Hudson had looked Death right in the eye more than once yet had somehow prevailed and lived. And now, here, in his home village, he was determined to shake the bad memories and the darkness that edged his vision night and day. Here . . . he’d heal. Find solace. Enjoy his brother’s family. Perhaps in a month or two he’d be ready to face the next chapter in his life.
Hudson loosened his cravat. He’d worn a navy uniform for so long that he’d forgotten how cumbersome tying a cravat could be. Besides, the morning was warmer than he’d expected, and he looked forward to changing into more casual attire. Although his luggage wouldn’t be brought until later today or tomorrow.
Not that Hudson expected a reception upon his arrival, but he was surprised to see no one about. No men of work, no stable hand, no indication of any sort that anyone expected him. The house seemed forlorn somehow. Quiet. And that’s when Hudson noticed that both floors of windows had been draped in black from the inside.
His pulse hitched. Quickly, he tamped down the hollowness in his stomach. Being in the navy
had taught to never draw conclusions before uncovering facts. But his heart told him someone had died in the household. Recently.
Hudson dismounted his horse without a groomsman in sight. He put off leading the horse to the stable to the west of the manor and instead let the beast graze on the wild grass edging the driveway.
After tugging off his gloves, he snapped them against his leg as he half limped to the front door. It would take a few minutes for his aching body to adjust to walking after riding for so many hours.
Hudson lifted a hand and rapped firmly upon the door. His brother should have received his letter in plenty of time to expect Hudson’s arrival today. But no one answered the door. Not when he knocked a second time, nor a third time. He attempted to open the door, but it was locked.
Just as he stepped away from the front door, a woman bustled around the corner of the manor.
“Oh!” she said, nearly dropping her basket of eggs. Her gray-streaked hair was falling out of her chignon, and perspiration dotted her forehead.
“Mrs. Cooper?” She’d been the housekeeper hired by Diana, if he remembered correctly. Although she was completely out of uniform and looked more like a low-level servant. Had his brother fallen on hard times?
“Sir, it’s you . . .” Her face pinked, and her generous bosom heaved. “You’re here . . . We didn’t think you’d arrive so quickly.”
Hudson blinked. “So quickly? This was the day I told my brother I’d be here. I spelled it out quite clearly in my letter. Where is he, by the way?”
Mrs. Cooper’s flushed face drained of color. “Then you don’t know . . .”
“Don’t know what?” Hudson asked. The hollowness that had formed in his stomach at the sight of the black drapes now opened wider. He strode toward the woman. “Tell me this instant, Mrs. Cooper. Where is my brother?”
To Love a Governess Page 8