A Lady Becomes A Governess. Diane Gaston

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      Miss Tilson shook her head. ‘Your clothes are too fine for you to give up. Mine are plain.’

      ‘Precisely. But I believe people pay more attention to dress than to other aspects of one’s appearance. Perhaps even more than one’s character. In any event, I think there is nothing undesirable about wearing a simple dress.’

      The other woman touched the fine vigonia wool of Rebecca’s travelling dress. ‘I confess, I would love to wear a gown like this.’

      ‘Then you shall!’ Rebecca turned her back to her. ‘Unbutton me.’

      They undressed down to their shifts and traded dresses, acting as each other’s maids. Miss Tilson pulled Rebecca’s hair into a simple knot at the back of her head. Rebecca placed Miss Tilson’s hair—it even felt like her own—high on her head and arranged curling tendrils around her face.

      They checked their images in the mirror again and laughed.

      There was a rap at the door.

      Rebecca grinned. ‘Answer the door as me.’

      Miss Tilson blanched. ‘I could not.’

      Rebecca gave her a little shove. ‘Of course you can!’

      Miss Tilson straightened into a more regal bearing and opened the door. Rebecca returned to her seat at the table.

      The seaman who’d warned them to stay in their cabins balanced a tray as the boat continued to pitch. ‘Some refreshment, m’lady,’ he said to Miss Tilson.

      Miss Tilson lifted her chin. ‘Thank you.’

      Rebecca stole one quick glance at the seaman before averting her face.

      Miss Tilson gestured to Rebecca. ‘Miss Tilson passes the time with me. Will you bring her food here for her?’

      ‘That I will, miss.’ The crewman stepped into the cabin and placed the tray on the table. He returned a moment later with two more trays. ‘Your maid, miss?’

      Miss Tilson’s gaze darted quickly to Rebecca, who pretended not to notice. The governess finally answered, ‘My—my maid is resting. Perhaps you might leave her tray here, as well? We will tend to her.’

      The seaman bowed. ‘Very good, miss.’ He placed both trays on the table.

      When he left, Rebecca glanced up and they stared wide-eyed at each other.

      ‘I was afraid he would notice we look alike,’ Rebecca said. ‘He must have glimpsed me when he left the trays.’

      Miss Tilson shook her head. ‘A governess is not important enough to notice, my lady.’

      Their trays each held two slices of bread, some cheese and a tankard of ale with a cover on it. The two women continued to talk as they ate and Rebecca felt as if they’d known each other for ages.

      As if they were sisters, although they clearly were not.

      ‘I believe we should call each other by our given names,’ Rebecca said. ‘It seems silly to be formal to one’s mirror image.’

      Miss Tilson fluttered her lashes shyly. ‘If you desire it... Rebecca. Then I am Claire to you.’

      ‘Claire!’ Rebecca felt as if she were conversing with a sister.

      Miss Tilson—Claire—must have felt a similar ease. ‘Might you tell me now why you do not wish to be married?’ She gave Rebecca a daring look. ‘Now that we are no longer formal?’

      Rebecca stared into her tankard of ale which she held with both hands to keep it from spilling.

      How could she explain?

      ‘A woman gives up everything by marrying,’ she said. ‘Any wealth or property she might have. Any right to decide for herself what she wishes to do. If I am to give up everything, it should be to a man who loves me and respects me and will not confine me.’

      Claire’s brows rose. ‘And this man?’

      Rebecca grimaced. ‘I met him only once. He merely wished to ensure himself I could produce an heir.’

      Claire did not look the least dismayed by this information. ‘But of course he would want an heir. Especially if he has a title and property.’

      ‘He does.’ Rebecca tapped her pewter tankard with her fingernail.

      ‘Is the gentleman wealthy enough to provide for you?’ Claire asked.

      ‘He is said to be prosperous,’ she replied. ‘He must be, because he is willing to marry me with a mere pittance for a dowry.’

      Claire nodded approvingly. ‘Will you tell me who he is?’

      Rebecca could see no reason not to. ‘Lord Stonecroft.’

      Claire gave her an enquiring look.

      ‘Baron Stonecroft of Gillford.’

      ‘Ah.’ A look of understanding came over Claire’s face. ‘You were hoping for a higher title than baron. I mean, you said you are the daughter of an earl.’

      Rebecca sniffed. ‘I care nothing for that.’

      Claire looked surprised. ‘Did he seem like a cruel man, then? Is that your objection?’

      Not cruel.

      Indifferent.

      Rebecca sighed. ‘I do not believe there is precisely anything to object to in him. I simply do not wish to marry him.’

      ‘Refuse, then.’ Claire spoke this like a dare.

      Oh, Rebecca would love to refuse. ‘My brother—my half-brother—says I am too much of a burden for him to wait for me to find a husband I would like. I’ve refused every offer he’s arranged for me. He has made certain I will be turned out without a penny if I do not marry Lord Stonecroft.’ Her face heated at the memory of her brother railing at her. ‘I’ve no doubt he means what he says.’ Still, her mind whirled with ways she might avoid this marriage without being turned out into the streets.

      None were viable, however.

      Claire looked sympathetic. ‘How sad. One would hope a brother would understand. Family should understand, should they not?’

      Rebecca regarded her curiously. ‘Do you have any brothers or sisters? Any family at all?’

      Claire shook her head. ‘I am alone in the world. Any relations are too distant to be concerned with me.’

      More reason to feel a kinship towards her. ‘My parents are gone,’ Rebecca confided. ‘And my brother might as well be dead. He said he never wishes to see me again. Ever. Even if he visits England. He made that very clear.’

      Her brother had always resented her. He’d resented her mother, as well. Possibly СКАЧАТЬ