The Silent Governess(37)

He realized he was doing it again, referring to her status to put her in her place, to stop her provoking questions. He saw the quick look of hurt replaced by sparks of anger and, yes, disappointment in her eyes. She didn’t say “hypocrite,” but he heard it anyway and could not argue.





At the end of her first week as governess, Olivia made her way belowstairs in hopes of seeing Mrs. Moore, even though she knew she ought not do so. Doris and the hall boy stood in the passage, and Olivia heard the pleasant chatter of teasing voices and girlish giggles. Approaching them, Olivia saw kitchen maids Sukey and Edith in the stillroom, and realized the four of them were together enjoying a respite from their work.

“Careful, girls, there’s a lady among us,” Edith warned.

“Oh, shut up, Edie,” Doris said. “She’s only doing what any of us would do, given the chance.”

“Wouldn’t see me with my nose in the air, no matter.”

Not knowing what else to do, Olivia walked past without a word.

“If she is standoffish, I don’t blame her,” Doris hissed. “She don’t make the rules. How would you have liked it if that last governess, that sour-faced Miss Dowdle, had tried to join in with the lot of us belowstairs?”

“Not at all, but she was a regular governess. A right snob.”

Dory’s attempted whisper followed Olivia down the passage. “But Miss Livie is one too now. A governess, I mean, not a snob. And it isn’t done, is it? She cannot have it both ways.”

Though thankful for Dory’s championing of her character, Olivia was relieved to enter the sanctuary of the kitchen.

There Mrs. Moore looked up from her receipt book and straightened. “Liv—Miss Keene. I am surprised to see you.”

Olivia sighed. “I was afraid you would not be happy to see me. No one is, it seems.”

“Now, now, love. No need to play the martyr. I am happy enough to see you, but governesses usually don’t venture belowstairs.”

“But I am not a usual governess, am I?”

“Certainly not. Never knew one so clever nor so kind.” Mrs. Moore’s eyes twinkled.

Olivia smiled. “Would you mind if I sat with you for a few minutes?”

Mrs. Moore patted the stool beside her. “A lonely life, is it? With only the young ones and Nurse Peale about.”

Olivia nodded. “Nurse Peale isn’t much for talking. When she does, she mostly repeats remembrances of the past. Tales of Lord Bradley from his nursery days.”

“Not diverting?”

“A little. But not the same as talking with you.” She squeezed the dear woman’s plump hand.

Mrs. Moore winked. “What you won’t say to get one of my lemon biscuits.”

On her way back upstairs, Olivia walked directly into the path of Judith Howe. The woman looked from the door through which Olivia had just emerged to Olivia’s no-doubt-telling red face.

“Miss Keene. I know you were one of the servants for a brief time, but I had hoped the experience had not affected you to a marked degree. I realize you have never been a governess before, so allow me to enlighten you on the proprieties. . . .”

Olivia swallowed as she listened, realizing she had paid her last visit to dear Mrs. Moore.





Chapter 25




The lower lake is now all alive with skaters,

and by ladies driven onward by them in their ice-cars.

Mercury, surely, was the first maker of skates. . . .

—S.T. COLERIDGE, THE FRIEND, 1809

One afternoon in February, Edward stepped into the schoolroom only to find Miss Keene and the children about to step out, bundled in coats, caps, mufflers, and gloves.

“Where are you all bound for?”

“We are going ice-skating,” Audrey said. “Do come along!”

“Ice-skating? I have not strapped on skates in years.”

Andrew tugged his hand. “Come along, Cousin Edward, do.”

“I haven’t the foggiest notion where my old skates might be.”

Miss Keene pulled the largest blades from the trunk with a flourish and held them before him.

“How . . . fortunate,” he grumbled.

A few minutes later, cocooned in his beaver hat, coat, and gloves, much like the children, Edward led the way as the small troupe tromped through the snow into the village, then along a well-trod path to the mill. He explained that the miller diverted water from the mill leat every year to fill a skating pond behind the mill.

“Very obliging of him,” Miss Keene said.

Edward considered this. “I suppose it is. I have never thought of it before.”

Using an old millstone as a makeshift bench, Miss Keene helped Audrey strap skates to her half boots while Edward assisted Andrew with the same.

“Wait for me, Andrew, and I shall come out and help you,” Miss Keene called, tightening Audrey’s final strap.

Edward eyed the blades still lying on the millstone. “Are you not skating, Miss Keene?”

“Oh no, my lord. I don’t think it would be proper. I only brought that pair in case one of you tore a strap.” She glanced around at the few skaters on the pond. “Besides, I shall be more surefooted in my boots, and more able to lend a steadying hand.”

“Not fair of you at all,” he said in mock sternness. “Insist I come, then sit out yourself? Come, now. What may not be proper in London or in your prim girls’ school is perfectly proper here.”

“I . . . Oh, very well. I shall give it a go.”

“That is more like it.”

She strapped on her skates before he finished his own, and hurried onto the ice to assist Audrey, who was flailing her thin arms and appeared about to fall. Andrew was busy chop-chopping the ice as he marched along, not falling, but not really skating either.

“Glide, Andrew, glide!” she called.

Edward skated to Andrew’s side and held his mittened hand. Miss Keene took Audrey’s arm and attempted to steady her while quietly instructing her on proper technique. Suddenly the girl’s arms flailed again—her feet flew out before her and she fell back, taking Miss Keene down with her. They both slammed hard against the ice. Edward gave an empathetic wince and skated quickly over, leaving Andrew to his own devices. He crouched over their prone forms. “Are you all right?”

“Mortified and sore, nothing more,” Miss Keene quipped, sitting up.

“I am sorry, miss,” Audrey said, scrambling to her feet and wearing a pained expression.

“Never mind, Audrey. You shall master it by and by.”

Edward offered Miss Keene his hand and, when she took it, gave a hard tug to pull her to her feet. The lurch propelled him backward, causing him to lose his balance and fall back. And as Miss Keene’s hand was still captured in his, he pulled her forward with him before he could think to release her. He hit the ice first, and Miss Keene fell onto his chest, knocking the air from his lungs.

Edward opened his eyes, squinting at the blinding sunlight reflecting off snow, and at the disconcerting experience of having the governess draped over his body. If he could but breathe, he thought, the sensation would not be unpleasant in the least. Her blue eyes, wide with shock, met his. For a moment, they simply stared at one another.

Then Audrey giggled and Andrew laughed out loud, breaking the spell that held them. Miss Keene’s face blushed deep pink and she averted her gaze, quickly pushing herself up and finding her feet with less than her usual grace.

Andrew, oblivious to their discomfort, continued to laugh.

“It is not kind to laugh at the misfortunes of others,” Edward grumbled, pinning Andrew with a look of mock severity, which only sent his young cousin into a convulsion of guffaws.

A quarter of an hour later, Lord Bradley skated beside her. “I see you fooled us all by falling at the outset. You are quite graceful on the ice, Miss Keene.”

“Thank you, my lord.” Olivia had not skated since girlhood, and could still hear Miss Cresswell saying that in her day ladies did not participate in such sport. Pushed in an ice-car, perhaps, but skating . . . ?

The Tugwell boys arrived, waving and calling greetings. They invited Andrew to join them in a game which involved hitting a ball about the ice with brooms and sticks.

Audrey sat on a millstone beside George Linton’s niece, who was near her own age, and soon the bonneted heads were close in confidences and chatter.

The children pleasantly occupied, Lord Bradley and Olivia continued to skate. She relished the gliding freedom, the crisp air, and the rare moment of no demands upon her person.

“I am glad to see you enjoying yourself, Miss Keene,” he said.

She smiled up at him.

“Are we paying you for this?” he teased.

“Very little.”

“Ah. Good.”

“And you, my lord. Are you enjoying yourself?” she asked.

“I believe I am. The experience has become somewhat infrequent of late, but yes, I believe I recognize this emotion as enjoyment.”

She shook her head and laughed. “Take no offense, my lord, but what else have you to do but enjoy yourself?”

He grimaced.

Realizing that she had annoyed him, she quickly changed the subject. “You are very involved with the children, more so than many fathers are, and they so enjoy your attention, but—”

“But it appears strange to you?”

“I am only curious, not criticizing in the least.”

He nodded. “Their father was a good friend, as I mentioned, older though he was. A mentor, of sorts.”