A Very Unusual Governess. Sylvia Andrew
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Название: A Very Unusual Governess
Автор: Sylvia Andrew
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Историческая литература
Серия: Mills & Boon Historical
isbn: 9781408933534
isbn:
‘Fortunate! There is nothing fortunate about any part of this catastrophe!’ muttered Edward.
Lady Penkridge ignored him. She went on, ‘And I fetched her yesterday to join us. I am sure you may safely leave the girls in her hands. She comes with the highest possible recommendations. All that will be required of you is to take charge of the household at Wychford.’
‘But I live in London, dammit!’ Edward almost shouted the words. ‘And I already have plans for the autumn! Why the devil did Henry agree to this cork-brained idea? Just wait till he gets here. If he wasn’t my own brother, I swear I’d call him out!’
Lady Penkridge rose. ‘I am sorry that your reception of my news has been so unfavourable, Mr Barraclough,’ she said frigidly. ‘Particularly as you express yourself in such immoderate terms. But there is nothing I can do about it. I leave London in two days. You have that time to make your arrangements. And now, if you don’t mind, I shall collect the girls and return to the Poultney Hotel. Good afternoon.’
She gathered up her things and waited stiffly for him to send for Harbin to show her out. With a considerable effort Edward pulled himself together. It would do the girls no good at all if he antagonised this woman. Lisette was to come out in the spring, and for all he knew Lady Penkridge might have considerable influence among the London ton. He took a breath and gave her a charming smile.
‘You are right, ma’am. It was quite wrong of me. It’s just that…’ He took another breath. ‘It’s just that I was a little upset at the notion that I would have to abandon all my friends, break the promises I have made, leave London and bury myself in the country for eight or nine weeks at least, with only my two nieces and their governess for company. And all within forty-eight hours. Absurd as it might seem to you, I was just a little shocked.’
He drew another breath and forced himself to smile again. ‘But you have been very kind. I am sure Julia would wish me to show you our gratitude. May I call on you at the Poultney this evening? I should like to offer you and my nieces dinner there, if I may.’
Edward’s charm was potent when he chose to exercise it, and Lady Penkridge was no more immune than many another lady in the past. Her manner was perceptibly warmer as she said, ‘Thank you. Yes, the…the girls would enjoy that. And so should I. At what time?’
That evening Edward exerted himself to erase the unfavourable impression he had made on Lady Penkridge with such success that she began to wonder whether Julia had after all been mistaken in him. They parted on the best of terms, and after an exhausting two days of rearrangements, meetings, notes of apology and excuses, Edward saw Lady Penkridge safely launched on her journey north, then set out for Wychford accompanied by his nieces and Miss Froom.
As they left London behind them, he saw that something of his own gloom seemed to have affected the rest of the party. Lisette was gazing sadly out of the window, Miss Froom was sitting with a gimlet eye on Pip, and Pip herself was quite remarkably subdued. Edward roused himself. It was not his nieces’ fault that he had been forced into exile. The poor girls had had a terrible time in the last year, first with the upheaval caused by the accident and the loss of their parents, and then the business with Lisette and Arandez. And now this…
‘I dare say you would like to hear a little about Wychford,’ he began.
‘Has Aunt Julia bought it?’ asked Pip.
‘Don’t be silly, Philippa,’ said Miss Froom. ‘Your aunt will have leased it through an agent. It would be unnecessary to buy it when you are to stay there for such a short time.’
Edward regarded Miss Froom. This wasn’t the first time she had put the child down, quite unnecessarily. He would have to keep an eye on her. Pip’s lively interest in everything she came across was one of her main attractions, and he didn’t want it suppressed. He smiled warmly at his little niece as he said, ‘I’m afraid you’re both wrong. There’s more to it than that.’
Pip’s face brightened. ‘A story, a story! Tell us, Edward!’
‘Well, when we first heard about Wychford it belonged to Thomas Carstairs. Thomas owned some plantations in the West Indies, and he and his wife became friends with your grandfather. Some years later—just about the time you were born, Pip—Mrs Carstairs came out to see us again after her husband had died. She promised your father then that we could all stay with her at Wychford when you and Lisette were old enough to come to England.’
‘Like a good fairy at a christening!’
Edward smiled. ‘Something like. Though she looked rather more like a witch than a good fairy.’
‘Will she be there now?’
‘No. She died not long ago—’
‘And left the house to us!’
‘Not quite.’
‘Philippa, how many times do I have to tell you not to interrupt? And get back down on to the seat, if you please!’
Edward felt a spurt of irritation. Pip was standing on the seat, leaning half against him and half against the cushions at the side of the carriage. It wasn’t safe, and Miss Froom had been perfectly right to object, but he had been pleased to see Pip once again her lively self. He ignored the governess and went on, ‘That would have been quite wrong. Mrs Carstairs had no children, but she had other family. She left the house to her niece.’
‘A niece? Like us?’
‘Mrs Carstairs was about eighty, so a niece would be much older, wouldn’t you say? Probably even older than I am!’
‘Have you met her?’
‘No, I’ve only dealt with her agent, a Mr Walters. But you must let me finish my story. I visited Mrs Carstairs several times at Wychford, and when I was last there, and told her you were all coming to England this year, she remembered her promise to your father.’
‘But she’s dead!’
‘That’s true, but she stipulated in her will that Wychford was to be available to the Barracloughs for six months after your arrival.’
‘That’s a very strange condition, Edward,’ said Lisette.
‘Mrs Carstairs was a very strange lady. But I liked her.’ He fell silent, remembering the last time he had seen the old woman.
She had been wrapped in shawls and huddled in her chair, obviously ill. But her gipsy-black eyes had been fiercely alive. She had looked at him hard, and then she appeared to make up her mind. She said, ‘You’ll do! The house likes you and so will she.’
Puzzled, he had asked, ‘Who is “she”, ma’am?’
Whereupon she had given one of her cackles and said, ‘Never you mind! But she will. Eventually! Make sure you come back here! But there! I know you will.’
Edward had been tempted to dismiss her words as the wanderings of an old lady whose life was almost spent. But they had stuck in his mind, and now here he was, about to return to Wychford, just as she had said…