Wasting no time, Georgette strode in, glaring at the nurse as she made her way across the room. In truth, she had wanted to tell Mrs Wells that she had no right to say such things to the children but, at the same time, did not want to create any sort of scene in front of the little girls.
Sooner or later, something would have to be done about the dreadful, bullying nature of the woman who was supposed to care for them as a mother might. And yet, for all the world, Georgette could not imagine how such a thing could be achieved. Whatever happened, Mrs Griffin and Mr Pearson would come down on the side of Mrs Wells and, if what Daisy said was correct, Georgette herself would come out the worse for it. She would be dismissed from Draycott Hall.
Of course, she knew that such a thing would not be good for either her or the girls. For one thing, she would have to leave the employment without a character reference or, worse still, with a very determined bad character reference. That would mean that she would struggle most dreadfully to find a suitable position in another household, especially if the reference in question was written by the Duke himself.
But worse still, Eleri and Ffion would have to suffer the upheaval and uncertainty of yet another governess walking away from them and that, above all things, Georgette could not imagine without upsetting herself.
“Thank you for making the girls ready, Mrs Wells,” Georgette said without any measure of warmth in her voice. “I shall take them now,” she said and reached for the little girls’ hands without making any further reference to their nurse.
Georgette did not even bid the nurse good morning but simply took Eleri and Ffion by the hand and walked them from the room, not once looking back towards Mrs Wells.
“Tell me, have you been to the church with His Grace before?” Georgette gently questioned them as they slowly made their way through the great corridors to the entrance hall.
“Yes, Miss Darrington,” Eleri said, and Ffion simply nodded. “And we shall not speak, we promise.”
“Oh, Eleri,” Georgette said sadly, “you must not believe that I think as Mrs Wells does. I think that you and Ffion have such wonderful voices that I should never tire of hearing them. You speak so beautifully but, if speaking beautifully is something which ordinarily finds you in a little trouble with His Grace, then it might be better if you just spoke to me.”
“Yes, Miss Darrington,” Eleri said.
“But does it get you into trouble?” Georgette said, keen to know a little something about the relationship which existed between the Duke and the children before she got into the carriage.
“We do not know, Miss Darrington. We have been told not to say anything in front of him, and so we do not.”
Georgette truly did not know what to say. She did not want the children to be treated so appallingly and to think that they could never open their mouths because their voices simply were not good enough. And yet, at the same time, she did not want to encourage them into doing something that would inevitably find them in some sort of trouble and make them feel sad or even afraid. If only she knew what to do about it all.
“I must say, girls, you both look very beautiful this morning. These are very lovely little gowns. Tell me, are they your Sunday gowns?”
“Yes, Miss Darrington,” Eleri said.
Georgette was pleased to see that both girls had enjoyed the compliment and felt her heart swell when she saw little Ffion looking down at her pretty blue and white gown with some pride. It was such a sweet thing to see how the almost silent little girls flourished with the very smallest amount of care and kindness.
They were in no way spoiled little girls; they were not the sort of children who took such praise as an entitlement. No, they had been raised well and with such great care by someone with good and simple values.
Georgette thought back to her silent and, initially at least, inadvertent eavesdropping of just a few days before and wondered who the children’s mother was to the Duke. As Georgette had left the schoolroom for the day, the girls having been handed over into the dubious care of their nurse until the following morning, Georgette had heard very slightly raised voices coming from the drawing room as she made her way past.
Pausing for a moment, Georgette looked hurriedly all about her for any sign of a witness before she stood a little closer to the door and, despite everything she had ever been taught, strained to listen. Her heart had thundered wildly with the expectation that she would be discovered at any moment and yet, despite this, she could not tear herself away.
When Georgette heard the strident female voice declare that the Duke had hardened his heart to them, she had known by instinct they were discussing Eleri and Ffion. It made her heart quicken further still, and she closed her eyes as if to concentrate harder on hearing.