A Governess for the Brooding Duke(77)

The struggling with the very worst of the servants, the cold water and the dreadful meals, the spite and the mischief created by the cynical, doughy-faced nurse. It would all have been for naught. Not only that, but the progress she had made with the Duke. His small conversation with the children, and the fact that he had twice come into the schoolroom.



It was only as she sat on the bed and stared at the wall that she realized that the Duke had, on both occasions, been making an attempt to take part in the lives of his nieces. He had put his head around the door of the schoolroom with a smile on his face, only to be confronted with the thing which hurt him the most.



At that moment, Georgette realized quite how badly she had erred. After all, perhaps if she had simply let things be, let him get to know the children first, then their own language could have been returned to at a later date. But of course, hindsight was the most exacting of all the sciences, and she knew it.



The thing was done now, and there was no going back to change the outcome. The only thing that was left to do was to move forward to find a solution that lie in the future, not in the past.



Georgette rose to her feet with purpose and crossed the bare little room to take her cloak from the wardrobe. Autumn very definitely had the countryside in its grip, and she would not be able to walk all the way to Winterbourne without a thick cloak to protect her from the cool air.



By the time she arrived at Winterbourne, it was mid-afternoon, and Georgette felt tired and emotional.



“Miss Darrington,” Mr Benson, the butler, opened the door to her with a smile. “Is Her Ladyship expecting you?” he said, ushering her in.



“I am afraid not, Mr Benson. I have come quite without invitation.”



“Well, I am quite sure that Her Ladyship will be ready to see you. You just wait here a moment, Miss Darrington, and I will go and see.”



As the kindly man hurried off, Georgette rather thought that she might cry. How wonderful it would have been to have been so fortunate at Draycott Hall to have so kindly a man acting as butler.



“She is very keen to see you, Miss Darrington.” Benson returned with a warm smile. “My Lady is in the drawing-room if you’ll follow me.”



“Thank you kindly, Mr Benson,” Georgette said and meant it.



“What a wonderful surprise, my dear.” Lady Cynthia, already on her feet, smiled broadly. “Have you brought the little ones with you?”



“No, I am afraid not.” Georgette could barely contain herself for long enough for the butler to leave the room before she began to cry.



“Oh, goodness me, whatever has happened?” Lady Cynthia strode across the drawing-room and immediately took Georgette’s arm. “Do come with me, my dear, and sit yourself down. Tell me, what has he done?”



It rather warmed Georgette to know that Lady Cynthia was immediately on her side. She had quite rightly assumed that the Duke had done something to bring about her emotional state, and Georgette was greatly relieved to have somebody believe her before she had even started to speak. “Lady Lyndon, your nephew has dismissed me,” Georgette said, hurriedly dabbing her eyes with her handkerchief.



“Oh, my dear girl. Tell me what happened.” Lady Cynthia put an arm around Georgette as the two sat on the pale pink couch.



Georgette told Lady Cynthia everything that had passed between herself and the Duke on that dreadful morning. When she told her of Ffion’s immediate regret, and how the child had cried so terribly, she rather wondered if she would be able to finish her account. She could not begin to imagine what the children were going through, not having seen her face once again from the moment she had left them in the care of Daisy. And she had promised that she would be back.



“I do not know what else to do about my nephew, Miss Darrington,” Lady Cynthia said sadly. “It appears that he will never listen to reason and will never let go of his anger. If only he could find some way to forgive Josephine. You see, I rather fear that if he does not, all is lost for him. He shall never enjoy the family that he still has, nor have any hope for a happy future.”



“But My Lady, he no longer blames his sister,” Georgette said miserably.



“He does not?” Lady Lyndon said, her eyes wide with interest.



“The only person that your nephew is angry with, My Lady, is himself. I think he has long come to realize that the only person to blame for his losses these last years is himself. But it is not his anger which so assails him, My Lady, but rather such a terrible sadness and the pain of knowing that his sister despised him in the end.”