“Forgive me, Lady Lyndon. I did not mean to force you in this direction, but I rather thought you ought not to leave just yet. I do not wish to intrude, My Lady, I simply mean for you to have some privacy in which to gather yourself before returning to your carriage.” Georgette could hear the tremor in her own voice.
“You have nothing to be forgiven for, my dear Miss Darrington. What kindness you have shown me, and how grateful I am for a few moments respite before I leave this place.”
“Please do sit down on the couch for a moment,” Georgette said, leading the Duke’s aunt to the little couch in front of the empty fireplace. “You shall not be disturbed in here at all, I can assure you. Mrs Wells has taken the children for the day, and I know that they do not return to the schoolroom once I have finished with them.”
“Mrs Wells,” Lady Lyndon said somewhat distractedly as she shook her head.
“My Lady?” Georgette said, feeling somewhat guilty at portraying herself as someone who did not know the entire contents of the conversation Lady Lyndon had just had with her nephew.
“I daresay you are very aware of the fact that I have just greatly argued with the Duke.”
“I am afraid that I heard shouting as I was making my way along the corridor. I really am terribly sorry for appearing when I did, My Lady. I meant you no discomfort; in truth, I did not.” Although Georgette knew that she was bending the truth a great deal, she truly had meant Lady Lyndon no discomfort.
“I am glad you were there, Miss Darrington. I am glad that you were there and that you are quite as courageous as you appear to be. After all, I could not truly have gone outside in all this state, and yet, at that moment, I could not have thought of where to go. I am most grateful to you for leading me here and taking care of me. The children really are very lucky that you have come to Draycott, Miss Darrington. I would hate to think that you would leave them.” To Georgette’s great dismay, Lady Lyndon’s voice broke again and, quite without warning, tears began to run down her face.
Not knowing what else to do, Georgette sat down at Lady Lyndon’s side on the small couch and put an arm around her shoulders.
“Oh, Lady Lyndon, I do not want to leave the girls. I have been here such a short time, and already I have come to care for them more than I could ever express. They are such precious children and yet so very fragile and lost.”
“But if you were to leave them, Miss Darrington, they would be yet more lost.” Lady Lyndon dabbed at her eyes with a beautifully embroidered handkerchief.
As Georgette looked at her lined and kindly face, she could not help feeling truly sorry for her. Lady Lyndon, despite her title and all the advantages of her aristocratic birth, had a heart so large that it had undoubtedly affected her throughout her life. Georgette wanted to protect her and yet knew that it was not her place. She was a simple governess, and she must remember that, even when comforting so kindly a lady.
“Please do not make yourself so upset, My Lady. I have no plans to leave the children.” Georgette rather wondered at her own words.
By saying that she had no plans to leave the children did not mean that she unequivocally never would. In truth, she knew that it was a promise that she could not make in the knowledge that she would never break it. If the Duke was to be so unbending as he had been thus far, Georgette did not know quite what she would do in the end.
“I cannot tell you how relieved I am to hear you say it,” Lady Lyndon said and took a deep and steadying breath. “I care so greatly for Eleri and Ffion. And I see them so rarely, yet I cannot stop thinking of them. They are the very image of their mother at the age.” She broke off and stared into space a little wistfully.
“And their mother has died?” Georgette said, wanting to press for information but knowing that she must do it most carefully and cautiously.
“Yes, Josephine died eight months ago. And Eleri and Ffion were so very young. Not much more than three years in this world, and they lost everybody who mattered most to them.”
“Goodness me, their father also?”
“Their mother, their father, and the only grandparents they had ever known.”
“What on earth happened?”
“A most dreadful infection seemed to sweep across several villages in Snowdonia. It began almost like influenza of some sort but turned quite morbid for almost everybody afflicted. It did not affect everybody. In truth, it would appear that many seemed quite immune. And so it seemed so very cruel that my niece and her husband both succumbed to the dreadful thing within days of each other. And to make matters so very much worse, the children’s paternal grandparents, who had been with them helping to nurse Josephine and Carwyn, fell prey to the dreadful infection also and died within the week. In just seven days, Eleri and Ffion had lost both of their parents and their grandparents.” Lady Lyndon hastily dug back into the sleeve of her gown where she had, just moments before, stowed away the handkerchief she had clearly thought herself finished with. As her tears began to fall, Georgette felt herself quite overcome.