“Judith, they are very welcome, as well you know.”
She wrinkled her fair brow in thought. “There is a girls’ boarding school in St. Aldwyns, I understand. Audrey would not be so very far away.”
“Tugwell and I recently discussed that very place,” he said dryly, but did not explain why. “Still, how much better to educate her here at home.”
“It gives me such pleasure to hear you say that, Edward,”
Judith said, a slight blush in her cheeks.
Edward nodded, but felt uncomfortable under her praise. It was his father’s generosity that housed them all. Not his.
Judith pensively studied the letter once more. “I don’t suppose . . . No, I doubt it would be quite the thing.”
“What?”
“I wonder . . . What about Miss Keene?”
“Miss Keene?”
“She is wonderful with the children and has none of the superiority and pretense I so despise in governesses.”
Edward stared at her, rather taken aback and not sure if he should welcome or forbid such a course. He knew Miss Keene’s “sentence” was over and he had no right to keep her any longer if she wished to leave. Might such a post entice her to stay on?
Judith continued, becoming more animated as she warmed to the notion. “I am already acquainted with her, as are the children. And she is very educated, you know. She has a fine hand and she speaks or at least writes French and Italian. And she plays. Well, a little.”
He could not resist teasing her. “Are you so disappointed she turned out not to be a foreign princess that you shall make her governess instead?”
She wrinkled her nose at him, the expression reminding him of their days as childhood playmates.
He asked, “Has she ever been a governess before?”
“I don’t believe so, but her mother was governess to Aunt Margery and Aunt Phillipa. And when I pressed her, she admitted she taught in a girls’ school somewhere. I forget where. If they would provide a character reference for her, I should be well satisfied.”
He studied her, perplexed. “Why are you doing this, Judith? Do you really so revile governesses in general, or have you some other reason for wanting Miss Keene in the post?”
“Many reasons. She is clearly an intelligent, patient young woman who adores children. Who adores my children. She has already taken it upon herself to begin teaching them their sums and to improve their reading. All the while performing her other duties quite admirably. What are the chances of finding some stranger who can do as well, and who would fit so well into our household? I own, the change would require a few adjustments. For one, we shall all of us have to call her Miss Keene, instead of her Christian name.”
“You and I do so already.”
Judith nodded. “I have never been comfortable using her Christian name,” she said breezily. “There is such an air of the lady in her countenance. I am afraid she shall turn out to be nobility yet, and I want nothing to answer for.” Her dimple showed. “But beyond that, I see no great obstacles.”
“I must say, Judith. I am impressed . . . I can almost believe you care for the girl.”
She shrugged. “Not a fig. I simply relish the thought of amusing my friends with tales of our once-silent governess.”
Edward slowly shook his head and felt a grin stealing over his features. “I don’t suppose a month’s trial can lead to any harm. We can always engage another governess should Miss Keene not suit. Shall I have Mrs. Hinkley speak with her, or would you prefer to do the honours yourself ?”
Olivia hesitated. “Governess? Good gracious. I don’t know what to say. . . .” Was this an answer to her prayer for guidance? Or should she leave now that she could and risk going home, even though her mother had begged her not to return?
Sitting together in the housekeeper’s parlor, Mrs. Hinkley handed Olivia a cup of tea. “I don’t blame you, Olivia. It would mean quite a change for you. No more fraternizing with the servants, no tea and biscuits in the kitchen with Mrs. Moore . . .”
“But why?”
“My dear, are you not familiar with a governess’s plight?”
“No.” Her own mother had spoken little of those days.
“A governess is neither a servant, nor a member of the family. She must not socialize with either set. She is limited to the society of her pupils and the briefest contact with the children’s parents, only as necessary to report any problems that arise.”
“I do not presume myself part of the family, Mrs. Hinkley.” The irony of that statement echoed in her ears. “But are you really telling me that, should I accept this situation, my dear friend Mrs. Moore will refuse to talk with me? That you would as well?”
Mrs. Hinkley fidgeted in her chair. “It is not that we would refuse outright, or be intentionally rude, but a very real wall will rise between us.
“I do not say this to discourage you from accepting, for you are no doubt doing those children more good than Miss Dowdle ever did, and I know you deserve the higher wages . . . but nor do I wish you to accept the situation unaware of what it will mean. We will very much lose you, my dear. And I for one will be sorry for it.”
Olivia reached out and pressed Mrs. Hinkley’s hand. “You are very kind to warn me. But I have always wanted to teach. I wish what you are saying were not true. For I shall be very lonely without all of you.”
“Yes, my dear. I am afraid you most certainly will be.” For a moment longer, the housekeeper regarded her with a gaze almost mournful. Then she drew herself up as sharply as if she had clapped her hands. “Well, if you have your heart set upon it, there is only one more thing to do.”
Mrs. Hinkley rose and fetched quill, ink, and paper from her small desk. “Mrs. Howe would like to write to that school where you assisted and request a character reference.”
Olivia’s heart began to pound dully within her chest. Her brief joy fell away. She ought to have anticipated this. It was one thing to hire her without a character as a lowly under nurse, but as governess? Responsible for the education of two children?
“So, if you will just write down the direction, I will give it to Mrs. Howe.”
She handed Olivia the quill and paper.
Blood roared in Olivia’s ears. Dared she? She had no doubt Miss Cresswell would write a fair and complimentary assessment—at least she would have been certain before recent events. Had Miss Cresswell heard what she had done? When she received the letter, Miss Cresswell would learn where Olivia was living. Would she feel obliged to share this information with her father, if he lived—or the constable, if he did not?
She thought once more of the silent schoolroom high in Bright-well Court, lying fallow as an unplanted field, just waiting to be brought to useful life once more. Nerves quaking, Olivia lifted the quill and dipped it in the ink. With trembling hands, she wrote the name and direction. Creating a connection with loops of mere ink that might one day form a noose.
Chapter 23
Who as I scanned the letter’d page
Took pity on my tender age,
And made the hardest task engage?
My Governess
—WILLIAM UPTON, MY GOVERNESS, 1812
The aromas grew stronger as Olivia descended the stairs to the kitchen. Something spicy, sweet, and tangy, like autumn, which seemed so long ago now.
“What is that delicious smell?” she asked Mrs. Moore, who was busy filling jars with quartered apples.
“Hello, Olivia. Just preserving the last of the apples in ginger syrup. My dear, I have heard the news and must congratulate you.”
“It is not official yet, Mrs. Moore. We still await a reference from my former schoolmistress.”
“And she’ll write nothing but the highest praise, I don’t doubt.”
“I hope you are right.”
“Of course I am. Clever, kind young lady like you. No skeletons in your brief past, I shouldn’t say.”
“I don’t know about that.”
Mrs. Moore eyed her closely. “Then you and I would have something in common, love.”
Olivia wanted to ask her what she meant, but the woman began bustling about in her usual way, bringing teacups and filling a plate with lemon biscuits. Her face while she worked was impassive and welcomed no inquiry.
“We shall sit and have ourselves a memorial tea, shall we? One last hurrah.” Mrs. Moore sat beside her on a stool pulled up to the worktable. “Though I for one will be sorry for it.”
Olivia could hardly believe she would no longer be welcome in Mrs. Moore’s kitchen. Bravely, she sipped her tea and tasted the biscuit. “Delicious!”
Mrs. Moore smiled, but the expression did not quite reach her eyes.
“May I ask,” Olivia ventured, “how long ago your sister passed on?”
The woman nodded as though she had expected the question, as though the topic had already been in her thoughts. “Must be eight and twenty years now. Alice was just fourteen.”
“Alice? Is she . . . their daughter?”
Mrs. Moore nodded. “They had only the one child. What a dear girl she was, Alice. Never knew the kinder. Called me Aunt Nellie, though everybody else called me plain Nell. I can still hear her sweet voice and feel her arms around my neck. . . .” Mrs. Moore’s eyes shone with tears once more, and she dug into her apron pocket for a handkerchief. “Avery was a different man then, I can tell you. What with Maggie to keep him fed and Allie to keep him tender.” She smiled tremulously through her tears.