His Unusual Governess. Anne Herries

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      ‘And she didn’t like frogs in her bed,’ John said, a gleam of mischief in his eyes. ‘I’ve never heard anyone scream as much as she did when she saw that grass snake.’

      ‘She thought it was poisonous.’ Francesca looked scornful. ‘She didn’t know it was a grass snake and harmless.’

      ‘Anyone knows the difference between a viper and a grass snake,’ John said and looked up at his sister. ‘What are we going to do, Fran? I’m so bored—aren’t you?’

      ‘Yes, some of the time,’ Fran agreed. ‘I like to read poetry, but I know you’d rather play games or go fishing.’

      ‘Can we go fishing today? He will probably stop us having fun when he gets here—and your governess will say it isn’t a fit occupation for a lady.’

      ‘We’ll outwit them somehow,’ Fran promised. She picked up a volume of poetry she’d been reading earlier, then threw it down with a sigh of discontent. ‘They are both supposed to arrive later today, though not together. We’ll go fishing this morning and come back when we feel like it.’

      ‘Grandfather’s letter said we had to be on our best behaviour—to be waiting in the parlour when they arrive.’

      ‘Well, he should have come down himself and stayed for a few days.’

      ‘He said it was getting a bit much for him. Do you think he’s ill?’

      ‘I don’t know.’ Fran’s brow creased because she worried about her grandfather. The marquess was all they had—the only one who bothered about them anyway. Her father had gone off abroad somewhere when his money ran out. His house and estate had been put up for sale and the marquess had brought them here. At first he’d spent time with them, but of late he hadn’t bothered to come down other than at Christmas, though he always sent birthday gifts. ‘I hope he isn’t, because I don’t know what would happen to us if he died. We haven’t any money of our own, John. Everything comes from Grandfather. If I get my Season, I’ll marry a rich lord and then we’ll have money. I’ll look after you then. You won’t have to work for a living.’

      ‘Do you think Grandfather will leave us anything?’

      ‘I don’t know. I don’t want to think about that …’ Fran’s throat caught at the idea that they might be forced to leave this house. She’d loved it from the moment they came here and didn’t want to live in a horrible little cottage like some of the children on the estate. ‘Come on, I refuse to be miserable on a lovely morning like this. Let’s get some stuff from the kitchen and go down to the stream.’

      ‘Yes.’ John grinned at her. ‘At least we’ve got each other. I’ll put frogs in her bed and you can think of something to do to this lord whatever-his-name-is …’

      ‘Lord Rupert Myers,’ Fran said. ‘Don’t worry, we’ll think of some way to get rid of them if we hate them. Let’s go fishing. It will serve them right if there’s no one to greet them when they get here.’

      Sarah got down from the chaise and looked at the house. Cavendish Park was a pleasant country house, much the biggest one she’d ever visited, larger and more impressive than her father’s on the outskirts of Newcastle. She’d visited a few country houses as the guest of her school friends, but never one quite like this. It was so beautiful that for a moment all she wanted to do was to stand and stare at the mellow golden walls and long windows that sparkled like diamonds in the sunshine.

      ‘If you’d like to come into the house, Miss Goodrum.’

      Sarah came to herself with a start. The housekeeper must have been speaking to her for a few minutes, but she’d been lost in thought—and it was difficult remembering that she was no longer the wealthy heiress, Miss Hardcastle. She’d packed that particular persona into her trunks and sent them back to her home with a letter for her uncle explaining that she was taking a little holiday and they were not to worry. All she had with her was a small trunk containing the clothes she’d purchased from Hester.

      She was wearing Hester’s best gown, because she’d been assured it would be expected for her first arrival. It was pearl-grey with a slender skirt and tight bodice, and it had a white lace collar. Sarah had fastened a small silver brooch at the neck to cheer it up a little. Hester’s other gowns were not as good and certainly not what Sarah was accustomed to, but she would get used to them—and it was only for a few weeks or so.

      ‘Yes, thank you, Mrs Brancaster. I was just thinking what a lovely house it is. You must enjoy living here?’

      ‘It’s a nice enough house, Miss Goodrum, but …’ The housekeeper hesitated and then pursed her thin mouth. ‘Things are not quite what they ought to be. His lordship doesn’t come down often enough and the children are left to do much as they please. The house needs a master or a mistress, if you ask me—prefer-ably both.’

      ‘Yes, I expect it does. A big place like this takes some running and it shouldn’t be left to the servants.’

      Unaware of the odd glance her remark had brought from Mrs Brancaster, Sarah walked into the house by way of the kitchen entrance. Since she made a habit of visiting her kitchens regularly at home this did not make her uncomfortable. She might be wealthy and she’d been educated as a lady, but Sarah knew she was a long way from being one. You could take the girl out of Newcastle, but you couldn’t take Newcastle out of the girl; it had been one of her father’s favourite sayings and made her smile. She’d been so close to her father, his right-hand man, and she missed him so very much.

      She supposed she was looking for someone she could admire and respect as she had Tobias Hardcastle. If such a man were to present himself, she would not hesitate to hand over her person and the day-to-day running of her business to him—but as yet she’d never met anyone who came close to filling his shoes.

      ‘I’ll take you straight up to your room,’ the housekeeper was saying. ‘You can settle in and then come down to the kitchen for a nice cup of tea. Miss Francesca and Master John were supposed to be here to meet you, but they slipped off early this morning. I suspect they went fishing in defiance of the marquess’s instructions that they should sit in the parlour and wait for you and their mentor.’

      ‘Their mentor? I thought the Marquess of Merrivale was their grandfather and guardian?’

      ‘So he is, Miss Goodrum. Mr John is to have a tutor and he is to be their mentor. As I understand it, he’s to be in charge here and we shall all report to him.’

      It was the first Sarah had heard of this arrangement and she wondered if Hester had known. This new man might enquire more closely into her background than she’d imagined and she was glad she’d asked for the reference as well as Hester’s clothes.

      ‘I see. Do you know this … mentor’s name?’

      ‘I wasn’t listening properly when Mr Burrows told me,’ the housekeeper admitted. ‘I’d just discovered that the pair of scamps had disappeared again and my mind wasn’t on it, but I’ll find out when he arrives and let you know.’

      ‘Thank you, Mrs Brancaster.’ Sarah was thoughtful. ‘Do you think I could leave the tea for an hour or so? I should like to take a walk about the grounds before I unpack—get my bearings.’

      ‘Well …’ Mrs Brancaster looked a bit put out. ‘I’m sure it’s up to you, miss. I thought you might want to see the schoolroom?’

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