She stared at him. “If you need my help so badly, why did we dally in a teashop? Why did you not explain yourself directly?”
“Miss Lloyd-Fantil suggested I take you to Gunter’s while your trunk was being packed.”
“By Clothilde?” Eugenia asked, turning her head as if her maid had magically appeared in the carriage.
“Your maid is following in a separate conveyance, accompanied by the young woman Ruby, Snowe’s housemaid.”
Eugenia gaped at him. “Ruby as well?”
“Miss Lloyd-Fantil told me that Ruby is adaptable and used to naughty children. She’s optimistic that Ruby will be helpful. You see, Miss Midge left her post day before yesterday.”
Eugenia’s eyes rounded. “Voluntarily,” he added. “She declared my house a godless wilderness and my siblings, particularly my sister, to be heathens in word and deed.”
Eugenia felt as if the breath had been knocked out of her. Her outrage was dissolving into shock. “I’m—I’m sorry to—no, I’m appalled to hear this. My governesses do not desert their posts without extraordinary justification and ample warning, I assure you!”
“She informed me that Lizzie’s dabbling in what she referred to as the ‘black arts’ was impious, if not blasphemous, especially after she learned of the attempted conjuration of a rabbit,” Ward said. “She also has strong feelings about Otis’s insistence that his pet rat has a soul. Her instruction in evening prayers, for example, foundered after Otis refused to stop praying that Jarvis would enter heaven with him.”
In all the years she’d managed her registry, Eugenia had never had to contend with a circumstance like this. “I instruct all my governesses not to intercede in matters of doctrine. Whether or not rats have souls clearly poses a theological question that we are not qualified to answer.”
She was in shock. She couldn’t believe that Alithia Midge had deserted her post. “She left without a word of warning? Without offering six weeks’ notice?”
“In her defense, given her strong views on religion, she found my siblings dangerous to her spiritual well-being. Yesterday Lizzie refused to pray for her mother’s eternal soul, and informed Miss Midge that if Lady Lisette was in heaven, she’d prefer to go to the other place.”
“Oh dear,” Eugenia gasped.
“After that, Lizzie confessed to deliberately throwing her governess’s prayer book in the lake in an attempt to stop Miss Midge from reading aloud prayers for the dead.”
“I’m dreadfully sorry,” Eugenia said helplessly. “I’ve placed Miss Midge in two households, and while she isn’t the sweetest woman in my employ, she could be relied upon not to weep or faint.”
“Our next governess must not weep, faint, or pray,” Ward said dryly.
“All the same, this does not justify an impromptu trip to Oxford. I should be at Snowe’s, helping Susan find a third governess for you.”
Ward folded his arms across his chest. “Unfortunately, when Miss Midge decided that her soul was in mortal danger, she unburdened herself on our local vicar, Mr. Howson.”
“I don’t suppose you’ve been attending matins and ingratiating yourself with the local clergy?” Eugenia asked, hopefully.
He threw her a sardonic look. “I’m a bastard, Eugenia. The Church of England refuses to even baptize bastards, so I doubt I’d be welcome at a church service.”
“That’s terrible,” Eugenia exclaimed. “I’m sorry you are excluded.”
“I don’t give a damn. But it is essential that gossip not reach the Duchess of Gilner’s ears, so I need to placate Howson, before his outrage—Miss Midge found a kindred spirit in him—spreads beyond the village. Lizzie and I have an appointment with him tomorrow morning.”
Eugenia turned the predicament over in her mind. Ward was right: rumors of paganism at Fawkes House would destroy his defense against the duchess’s plea for guardianship. “Can you impress upon Lizzie that she can’t talk about your mother’s posthumous locale?”
“She and I have discussed the advisability of allowing people to believe that our mother is sitting on a fluffy cloud singing hymns, even if Lizzie doesn’t agree. I was fairly certain a short morning call to the church would be effective, especially if a large donation was forthcoming. But last night I learned that a bishop is paying a visit to the vicarage.”
“That is most unfortunate,” Eugenia observed.
“I daren’t wait until his visit has concluded. Pastor Howson has strong views about magic—that is to say, he believes in it.”