“Their Nain and Taid,” she said quietly and quite without thinking.
“Nain and Taid?” Lady Lyndon said, somewhat confused.
“Oh dear,” Georgette said, realizing that she had exposed her own secret. Lady Lyndon was looking at her expectantly, and she knew she must provide an answer. “Their grandparents,” Georgette said, apologetically.
“Nain and Taid,” Lady Lyndon said as absently as Georgette had said it in the first place. “Their grandmother and grandfather.” Lady Lyndon looked at Georgette for confirmation.
“Yes, it is Welsh for grandmother and grandfather. I rather picked it up from the girls.” Georgette had the awful feeling that she would say something which would see the children in yet more trouble. “But it was before I quite realized the situation, My Lady. It was before I had known that the words were not to be spoken in the house. I had asked them, you see. I mean, they did not willfully disobey all they had learned. It was just that they did not know. And I did not know; not exactly.” Georgette knew that she was faltering dreadfully.
“That is not entirely true, Miss Darrington, is it?” Lady Lyndon held her gaze fixedly.
There was nothing that Georgette could say but the truth. If she continued to lie, she would simply push Lady Lyndon away from her. But she rather thought that to tell the truth in its entirety might also have the same result. And yet she had no choice.
“Forgive me, My Lady. I am a little flustered and do not know quite what to say about things.”
“Then you must speak freely, Miss Darrington. You do not have to find an answer which you think will suit me, for that is not what I am seeking.”
“My Lady, it is true that Mrs Wells had tried to instruct me that the children were not to say any words in Welsh. If I am entirely honest with you, I found the notion quite distasteful. I found the very idea that the children ought to be ashamed of themselves for simply speaking the language they grew up speaking rather a heartbreaking sort of thing. And it is true to say that I entirely ignored Mrs Wells’ instruction, for I do not lend anything that woman says any weight whatsoever. And I did not from the very first. You may think that I made my judgment of her a little too immediately, but it has not changed any for getting to know her better.”
“I am quite sure that it has not,” Lady Lyndon said and smiled at her. “And your instincts and first impressions do you credit, Miss Darrington, for that woman, above any I have ever met, should never dignify herself with the title of nurse.”
“I should never dare to say such a thing out loud myself, Lady Lyndon, but I can do no other than agree with you wholeheartedly. And I find myself quite unable to bear the cruel treatment she meets out on Eleri and Ffion. She does not hurt them physically, and I cannot make such a claim. But she frightens them, Lady Lyndon. She has such a face and so dreadful a tone when she berates them. I know that she must enforce the Duke’s wishes, as we all must. And yet she seems to do so with such intent. There is nothing kind in what she is doing, and it rather strikes me that she is very well aware of it.”
“That is why you must not leave them, Miss Darrington. However hard things become, you must stand fast. Please believe me when I tell you that I know that what I ask of you is almost too great. And yet I do not know what else to do or say. Just please, please do not abandon them.”
“I shall not abandon them, Lady Lyndon.” Georgette felt tears welling in her own eyes. “I promise you,” she said with feeling.
Feeling herself to suddenly have an ally had made the making of such a promise a thing that she could almost not resist. It was as if it were a foregone conclusion already, something that could not be denied nor turned away from. Georgette would stay with the children for as long as they needed her, however long that might be.
“And although it might feel as if you are alone here, you are not alone entirely. We shall be friends, Miss Darrington. Not simply because I think that you shall be able to help me, but because I admire your courage and caring. I know what it must have taken to stand up to my nephew. I know what it must have taken because I feel it myself every time I draw the subject to his attention.”
“But why will he not listen, Lady Lyndon?” Georgette said, knowing that she should, in truth, not really demand such an answer.
“It is all so very complicated and involved. But it has gone on for such a great swathe of time, and there has been much heartbreak and anger and misunderstanding. It involves love and the sort of choices that ought never to have presented themselves. And I shall tell it to you all, my dear. I shall hold nothing back. But I rather fear that we do not have the time at present. I ought really to be making my way out of Draycott Hall before I expose you to suspicion, Miss Darrington.”