The Silent Governess(35)

Olivia felt answering tears fill her own eyes. Fearing she already knew the answer, she asked quietly, “What became of Alice?”

Mrs. Moore sniffed and looked down at her hands. “They say she run off with a young man when she were eighteen, but . . .” She glanced up at Olivia, then away. “But between you and me,” she whispered, “I know better.”

“Have you never heard from her?”

Mrs. Moore shook her head, staring at some unseen point beyond the high windows. “She’s with Maggie now, she is. I suppose that is some comfort.”

“Poor Mr. Croome,” Olivia breathed.

“Poor Mr. Croome, indeed.” Mrs. Moore sighed, then straightened. “Well, that is enough of that. What a sorry last hurrah this is! But I will miss you, my girl, upon my soul, I will.”

“And I you.”

Olivia squeezed her friend’s hand—too tightly she realized when the woman grimaced, but she could not help herself. Its impression had to last.

As she left the kitchen, Olivia crossed paths with Johnny Ross outside the servants’ hall. His broad shoulders all but blocked the narrow passage, giving her little choice but to pause before him.

He shoved his hands into his pockets and stuck out his chin. “Governess, ey? I suppose that means you’ll have no use for the likes o’ me. Fancy yourself above me now, I’ll wager.”

“No, Mr. Ross, I don’t—”

“Mr. Ross, is it? And I must call you Miss Keene now, and never more kiss you.”

Glancing about and hoping no one was near, she whispered tersely, “Which you ought not to have done at any rate.”

“Never said so before.”

“I could not speak at the time, if you will recall.”

His lip curled. “How high and mighty you’ve become already. I told the others that was how it would be.”

She gaped. “Thank you very little. I prefer you not speak of me at all. What have I done to deserve your cruelty?”

“Me, cruel? It’s you what used me ill.”

She frowned. “How did I ever?”

“By throwing me over. You’re too good for me now.”

She shook her head. She had never thought of Johnny as a serious suitor. If she were honest with herself, she had always thought herself a little above him but could not admit such a thing now. He would never believe her rise in station was not what had come between them.

Doris scuttled toward them down the passage, laundry basket on her hip. She said tartly, “Let her be, Johnny. I’ll have ya if she won’t.”

Doris winked at Olivia as she passed by.





Less than a week after Olivia had provided Miss Cresswell’s direction, Judith Howe marched past her in the corridor, a letter in hand. “A glowing recommendation, Miss Keene.” She waved the letter. “As I was certain it would be. I have wonderful instincts about people.” Mrs. Howe headed for the stairs, to share the news with Lord Bradley, she guessed.

Olivia was relieved. She was also curious about Miss­Cresswell’s letter and wished she might read it herself. Would it contain any clue about what was happening at home?

She decided she would write to Miss Cresswell herself and ask. Now that she had revealed her whereabouts to her, what could it hurt? She wondered if she was still obligated to ask Lord Bradley to approve her letters now that her trial period was over.

While awaiting the reference, Olivia had prepared for her post as best as she could. There were several volumes in the schoolroom for use in instruction as well as books of advice, like: Hints to Governesses and The Plan for the Conduct of Female Education. The advice she read was often contradictory. Was a governess supposed to focus on making her pupil a “finished” lady, or a knowledgeable one?

Olivia did not wrestle with this issue for long and soon began developing her plans to help Andrew improve his reading, as well as introducing literature, poetry, French, Italian (it was the language of music after all), geography, the sciences, religion, and of course, arithmetic. According to the advice books, she must also teach Audrey plain and ornamental needlework, dancing, and drawing, as well as continuing the girl’s lessons on the pianoforte. Later, a music master ought to be brought in, as well as a dancing master.

The list seemed endless. But instead of growing weary at the thought of the overwhelming work ahead of her, Olivia felt more alive and purposeful than ever before. She could hardly believe she would be instructing pupils in the very room where her mother had once taught. She hoped she might be half as good a teacher.





Olivia was both excited and nervous that first morning in the schoolroom. More nervous than she would have been, because Judith Howe joined them, saying she wanted to see how things got on. Audrey sat at attention at the table, hands clasped before her, posture erect. Andrew slumped beside her, eyeing Olivia warily, as if unsure about this new creature who looked a great deal like his under nurse but who now stood so officiously before them, iterating the rules of the schoolroom.

Mrs. Howe said in a loud whisper, “Do sit up straight, Andrew.”

Olivia continued with the rules, much as Miss Cresswell had begun every term.

Judith Howe interrupted to say, “I do not allow any physical discipline, Miss Keene—just so we are clear. My own governess was a fiend, and I shall not have Dominick’s children subjected to such.”

Olivia nodded. She did not condone harsh tactics, but some form of discipline would likely be required, and she feared Mrs. Howe had already done a good deal to undermine her authority.

Rules dispensed with, Olivia decided to begin with the topic with which she was most comfortable. Arithmetic. She began by writing a few simple addition equations on Andrew’s slate, and a few somewhat more difficult problems on Audrey’s.

Audrey began to figure her answers speedily, but Andrew only sat, chalk still.

Judith walked over and stood beside him. “Andrew, those are so simple! You are not even trying.”

“I am, Mamma, I am. You make me nervous. I wish you were not watching me.”

Olivia wished it as well.

Andrew furrowed his little brow, his tongue protruding as he pressed the chalk hard on the slate, figuring one answer, then hesitating on the second. Olivia glimpsed Audrey writing a tiny number in the corner of her slate and tapping it lightly to draw his attention to it. No doubt she could have finished her equations already, but instead she was trying to help her brother. Olivia knew she ought to reprimand the girl but did not. She saw what Audrey was doing—trying to help her brother please a critical parent. For though generally kind to the children, Mrs. Howe did reprimand the boy a good deal more than she did Audrey.

Unbidden, Olivia was reminded of herself as a girl—of the time she let that Harrow boy win to spare him humiliation. Tears pricked her eyes, both at the pain of the memory and the pang of affection she felt for Audrey, trying to protect her brother. Olivia determined to do all in her power to fill the gaps in young Andrew’s education . . . and in the attention paid him.

Eventually Mrs. Howe became bored and excused herself, telling Olivia with a flourish of her pale hand to “carry on.”

When the door closed behind her, Olivia took a deep breath. Audrey and Andrew did the same.

Knowing the children were not used to attending for hours on end, Olivia declared a recess in lessons at two. She would have liked to take the children out of doors, but the weather was very rough—freezing rain speck-specked against the windowpanes.

So, instead, Olivia instigated a game of puss in the corner and felt her own spirits rise as she attempted to amuse her pupils.

Becky, who now filled the role of under nurse as well as nursery-maid, went downstairs to bring up the dinner tray. Olivia surprised the children by speaking French throughout the meal, encouraging them to repeat the names of simple objects, “fourchette, poulet, pomme de terre,” and to ask for things to be passed with “si’l vous plaît,” and “merci.” Audrey took to the game immediately, but Andrew groused, wanting plain old chicken and potatoes and to eat with his fork and not his fourchette.

Olivia did not reprimand him. She understood how difficult it was to exercise one’s brain all day when ill-used to doing so. She felt fatigued herself. After dinner, she allowed him to skip rope, while Audrey learned a few new dance steps.

That night, after Becky helped the children into their nightclothes, Olivia went into the sleeping chamber to hear their prayers. Because Audrey and Andrew had spent the day in the schoolroom, with much of that time devoted to reading, Olivia thought they might prefer to skip bedtime reading. Both insisted vociferously that this was not the case. Olivia was heartened that the children wished to continue their bedtime ritual even though she was now their governess. She remembered all too well what they—or at least Andrew—had said about their last governess.





Chapter 24




A governess must possess good sense enough

not to intrude on domestic privacy.

And, she must, of course,

not make herself too familiar with the domestic servants.

—SAMUEL & SARAH ADAMS, THE COMPLETE SERVANT

Before Olivia had a chance to write a letter to Miss Cresswell, she received one herself, which Becky brought upstairs to her at the request of Mr. Hodges. Apparently, Lord Bradley had no wish to review her incoming post. Accepting the letter, Olivia instantly recognized Miss Cresswell’s fine decorative script and excused herself from the children to read the letter in private.