Читать книгу The Tempting Of The Governess - Julia Justiss - Страница 13

Despite her assurance that Elizabeth did not need to concern herself with the housekeeper, the little girl woke Olivia well before daylight. ‘Miss Overton, we must go back to our room. Before Mrs Wallace comes up and finds out we came here.’

The poor child was obviously afraid of the housekeeper—and small wonder, if she were threatened with a beating for any small infraction of the woman’s rules. After lighting a candle, Olivia turned to reassure her.

But the worry etched on the child’s face made it quite clear she didn’t trust the new governess to protect her, despite the fact that Olivia had rescued them last night. Her lack of confidence in the person appointed to look out for her was not surprising, considering that the adult who should have cared for the children had instead sent them across an ocean to live with a stranger.

A stranger who then consigned them into the charge of a woman who beat small children and was unconcerned that they were cold and lost, Olivia thought, her anger against both the housekeeper and her employer reviving.

Not wishing to increase their anxiety by keeping them in her room, she said, ‘Very well, I’ll take you back to the nursery. But I’m bringing the counterpane with us, so you may stay warm until I can obtain suitable clothing and bedding.’

Elizabeth’s eyes went wider. ‘But Mrs Wallace will see your blanket! She will know right away it isn’t ours.’

‘I’ll tell her I came to check on you in the night and found the nursery too cold for you to sleep in with just a cotton blanket. Since I didn’t know where more blankets were kept, I brought you mine. And please believe me, I am quite capable of dealing with any objections Mrs Wallace might raise. So, ready? Let’s get you back down the hallway before your toes freeze!’

After hurrying the little girls back to the nursery and draping the counterpane over their two beds, Olivia brought the candle over to the dresser and once again inspected its contents. Though the cotton undergarments and dresses were all of excellent quality, they had obviously been intended for wearing in a tropical climate. She didn’t discover anything made of wool or even linen. ‘We shall have to get you heavier clothing, too, at least until the weather is sufficiently warm.’

‘Does it ever get warm in England?’ Elizabeth asked.

Compared to what she knew of weather in the tropics, the child had a point. ‘Probably never as warm as you were accustomed to at home, but we do have pretty, sunny summer days sometimes. Now, wrap up tight! I’ll get dressed and be back before Mrs Wallace arrives.’

Sophie gave her sister an anxious look, but both obediently huddled down in their beds. Girding herself for the confrontation to come, Olivia paced back to her chamber, threw on her garments and returned to the nursery.

Just as dawn was lighting the sky, Olivia heard the maid’s footfalls in the hallway. Stepping into the corridor, she said, ‘Good morning, Mary. Bring my breakfast tray in here, won’t you? I will eat with the girls.’

‘If you please, miss,’ the maid said. Her eyes widened as she entered, no doubt noting the forbidden counterpane draped across the beds. ‘I’ll bring the girls’ tray up in a trice.’

‘Thank you. And would you tell Mrs Wallace I would like to speak with her at her earliest convenience?’

Mary’s gaze travelled from Olivia to the counterpane covering the girls’ beds and back. Setting down Olivia’s tray, she gave her a nervous smile. ‘Yes, miss. I can take that coverlet back to your room on my way.’

Olivia returned the smile. ‘That’s kind of you, but it shall remain here until the children are provided with adequate blankets of their own.’

The maid stared. ‘Are you sure about that, miss?’

Evidently it wasn’t just her two charges who feared the housekeeper. ‘Quite sure. Indeed, that is what I wish to speak with Mrs Wallace about.’

The maid hesitated, as if she meant to say something, then shook her head. ‘As you wish, miss.’

After the maid walked out, Elizabeth whispered, ‘Mrs Wallace is not going to be happy with you.’

‘Probably not. But that’s all right, because I am not happy with her, either.’

Olivia was able to finish her coffee, toast and cheese and assist the girls to dress before she heard the housekeeper’s light step in the hallway. No doubt Mrs Wallace had deliberately delayed responding to her summons, intent upon putting the new employee in her place.

However, a governess occupied a unique position within a noble household. Being gently born, she was not part of the staff below stairs or under the housekeeper’s authority. A fact Olivia suspected she was about to have to prove.

Which was fine with her. After the way the children had been treated, and the slovenly condition of her chamber, she was quite prepared for a confrontation.

Mrs Wallace walked into the nursery, spied the coverlet over the beds and frowned. ‘Miss Overton, what is the counterpane from your bedchamber doing here?’

‘The girls were cold when I came in to check on them this morning. Not knowing where the linens are kept, I brought in my own coverlet to keep them warm until I could have you bring them thicker blankets.’

Anger flaring in the woman’s eyes, she turned her gaze accusingly on the girls. With a whimper, Sophie cowered behind her sister.

Looking back at Olivia, she said, ‘As I’m sure you’ve noticed, Miss Overton, the household is living in...reduced straits. The children are newcomers to England, and will soon become adjusted to our climate. I have no household funds to spare for such frivolities as extra blankets.’

Though Elizabeth remained protectively in front of her sister, she looked nearly as scared as Sophie. The fear on their faces raised Olivia’s simmering anger several more degrees.

One of us is going to yield and it won’t be me, she thought. But no point terrifying the children by having them witness what promises to be an unpleasant exchange.

‘Perhaps you will accompany me to my chamber so we may discuss this further.’

Mrs Wallace opened her lips, obviously intending to refuse. Olivia fixed on her the hard, unwavering stare that had, in the past, reduced impudent housemaids and a few insolent footmen to silence. ‘Very well,’ she said at last. ‘I wouldn’t wish to embarrass you in front of the children.’

‘Nor I, you. Shall we?’

As soon as they reached Olivia’s room, Mrs Wallace said, ‘Let me put some things straight right away. The household, and all household supplies, are my responsibility and I won’t have you interfering in my realm. Besides, it’s ridiculous, indulging a pair of orphans like that.’

‘The welfare of girls is my realm, and I shall “interfere” wherever necessary to ensure it. I’m not demanding you provide them satin quilts and eiderdown pillows. Just thick woollen blankets of sufficient warmth to make comfortable two small children brought up in the tropics and unused to English weather.’

‘Cotton blankets are what have always been used in the nursery.’

‘Well, now it shall be using woollen ones.’

Pausing, the housekeeper scanned Olivia up and down, her gaze scornful. ‘I understand you grew up in a fine house before your...change in circumstances. You should realise at a glance, having seen something of Somers Abbey, that I don’t have a fraction of the funds or servants necessary to properly maintain a dwelling of this size. We all have to make do.’

‘I should think there are enough servants to make sure that the few rooms that are occupied—like this one—are in clean and orderly condition.’

Mrs Wallace gave her a thin smile. ‘At Somers Abbey, servants clean their own rooms.’

Olivia gritted her teeth against the sharp reply she wanted to make. If the woman thought she could cow or embarrass her over her loss of status, she was in for a disappointment. ‘If you will supply me with the requisite supplies, I shall bring this chamber up to the standard I expect. I shall still need woollen blankets for the girls, of course. Or must I take up that matter with the Colonel?’

‘I would certainly not disturb him over such a trifling matter,’ she retorted—and then stopped abruptly. Her smile broadening, the housekeeper continued, ‘If you think the matter important enough, by all means discuss it with him. Good day, Miss Overton.’

‘It certainly is important enough for me to “disturb” him,’ Olivia snapped furiously as she strode past the housekeeper and down the passageway. Hoping she wouldn’t get lost in the maze of hallways, she retraced her steps to the front hallway and found the door leading down to the kitchens.

‘Mansfield!’ she called as she walked into the servants’ hall. ‘Where are you? You must convey me to the master at once!’

Eight years of running an aristocratic household must have rung in her voice, for when the butler popped out of the pantry, he didn’t offer even a token protest. ‘This way, Miss Overton.’

Carefully, Hugh walked over to his desk and lowered himself in the chair, his mouth as dry as road dust. A quick sideways glance towards the nearly empty whisky bottle on the desk set off the hammer-on-anvil throbbing in his head again. His stomach roiling, he sank his head into his hands.

He hadn’t intended to drink that much whisky last night—or to spend the night on the sofa in his library. But then, in the early evening after he’d returned to the manor, Mansfield had pleaded with him to come up to the west bedchamber wing and inspect the outermost room, where he feared a leak had begun around the chimney. Reaching that room meant that Hugh was forced to walk right past the nursery.

He’d tried to shut his ears, but he’d heard it anyway—the soft murmur of a childish voice emanating from within the schoolroom. The timbre of the voice, the remembered blue, blue eyes of his cousin’s girls, brought the vision back with searing clarity.

Drew, chattering to his ayah in the nursery of the cantonment house...jumping up with a shout and coming to the doorway for a hug as Hugh looked in on him before leaving for duty.

Though he’d immediately fought to suppress the memories, the flashback had beat against the doors behind which he bottled up all his still-unresolved guilt and grief. Memories made even harder to suppress after he met with the girls’ new governess—the managing Miss Overton, who was not at all meek and mild. Who had not hesitated to interrupt or question him.

He’d initially been amused by her admission of her controlling nature, before its implications registered. For the last week, he’d done a fair job of avoiding his wards, even at times forgetting they occupied the schoolroom. He had a feeling that Miss Overton was going to question him every time she thought there was a problem with her charges.

Hell and damnation, that was why he’d hired a governess—to assume oversight of the girls so he would have to deal with them as little as possible. If Miss Overton expected to continually plague him with her opinions or question him over the girls’ treatment, he would have to disabuse her of that notion as soon as possible.

A knock at the door reverberated through his head, eliciting another wave of pain. Pressing his fingers against his aching temples, he looked up as Mansfield entered.

‘What is it?’

‘Miss Overton to see you, Colonel.’

For once, Hugh didn’t appreciate being right. He felt wretched enough this morning without having to deal with a managing female. ‘Tell her to come back later. And ask Cook to send up some strong coffee.’

To his infinite irritation, the blasted woman walked in anyway, dropping a curtsy that was long on graceful form and very short on deference. ‘I’m sorry to disturb you, Colonel, but the matter can’t wait. I need to see you now.’

‘You’ve been here less than twenty-four hours. What could be so important that it cannot wait until later?’

She drew in a deep breath, as if preparing to speak—and then hesitated. Wrinkling her nose, she scanned the room, her gaze coming to rest on the whisky bottle. She frowned.

Doubtless the room reeked of spirits. Apparently she disapproved of drinking, too.

‘Are you sober enough to understand what I’m saying, Colonel?’

He stared at her in disbelief. Had a man uttered such a remark, Hugh would have struck him.

Meanwhile, his eyes widening in alarm, Mansfield hastened to the door. ‘I’ll bring your coffee shortly, Colonel,’ he called out before disappearing.

Refraining with difficulty from delivering the sharp reprimand that sprang to mind, Hugh said stiffly, ‘I am quite capable of comprehension, Miss Overton. You do realise you are addressing your employer?’

‘I realise I am addressing the guardian of two small girls who, since he chose to accept that responsibility, ought to concern himself with their well-being.’

You should have been more concerned with his well-being!

The echo of that long-ago accusation lanced through him, sparking irritation into anger.

‘And just what is it that you think I’m neglecting?’ he asked hotly.

‘As for that, I shall have more to say later. But for the moment, the issue is blankets.’

That seemed so trifling, Hugh wasn’t quite sure he’d heard her correctly. ‘Blankets?’ he repeated.

‘Yes. The girls have only thin cotton blankets. Obviously, being from a much warmer climate, they are cold at night.’

‘Good—’ Hugh swallowed the curse and tried to rein in his anger. ‘You barged into my library at the crack of dawn to complain about blankets? Do I look like a housemaid? Take that up with Mrs Wallace.’

‘I already have. She was decidedly unhelpful. The girls need woollen blankets—and warmer clothing, too. Doubtless they will acclimate to English weather in due time, but a week is hardly sufficient. Surely the household has woollen blankets somewhere that could be given to them. You must tell Mrs Wallace to place some in the nursery, or, if there truly aren’t any in the house, authorise their purchase.’

How dared she accuse him of negligence over a matter of housekeeping? Incensed, he said, ‘You are outspoken indeed, Miss Overton. Take care that you don’t speak yourself right out of your position.’

Her cheeks flushed at that. But, fire sparking in her eyes, she retorted, ‘If you mean that as a threat, I’m not worried. Should you discharge me, I can find someone else who will pay me a pittance to watch their children.’

‘Not unless I write you a character,’ he shot back.

‘At least I have character!’ she cried, her voice growing strident. ‘I’m not so neglectful of the welfare of two poor little girls put into my care that I would condemn them to being cold and miserable!’

How could you be so neglectful...

‘Enough!’ Hugh shouted, head pounding as his own voice rose to block out the memory of that devastating accusation. ‘Get. Out.’

And when she hesitated, looking as if she meant to speak further, he roared, ‘Get out now!’

Her face rosy, looking as angry as he felt, Miss Overton picked up her skirts and swept from the room.