Читать книгу A Very Unusual Governess - Sylvia Andrew - Страница 11

Still grinning, Edward reached out and pulled a letter towards him. It was from his sister-in-law. Just as he would have expected, it was full of the usual mixture of pointed remarks about his life style, instructions about the girls and dire warnings. What she would say when she learned that he had got rid of Miss Froom and replaced her with a green girl he hardly liked to think. But this time at least Julia had some justification for her fears. She had heard that Ricardo Arandez had left Antigua and was on his way to Europe. She was afraid he might have ideas about meeting Lisette again…

Edward Barraclough sighed. Life at Wychford was not as awful as he had feared. In fact it was occasionally quite pleasant. But, much as he loved his nieces, he wished to heaven he had not been called upon to fill the gap left by Julia’s accident. Playing nursemaid to two vulnerable girls was no occupation for a grown man. There seemed to be no end to the problems, and meanwhile his personal life was suffering a marked decline. Louise was not a woman to tolerate neglect for long, and his most recent visit had been something of a failure. He had found her boringly possessive. What concern was it of hers how he spent his time away from her? He hadn’t told her how, of course, but she would never have believed him if he had! That he was living in the depths of the country with two young girls and a dowdily dressed young woman! She would have found the very idea ridiculous. And so did he! But that didn’t give his mistress—his mistress, for God’s sake!—the right to know where he went and what he did when he wasn’t with her! She was lovely enough, but her voice could get unpleasantly shrill. He was starting to lose patience with the old doddards at the Foreign Office, too, and beginning to think he was wasting his time on them. When would they learn to leave eighteenth-century politics behind, and step into the nineteenth century?

There was one bright spot in all this. Though he didn’t particularly want to admit it, Miss Petrie seemed to be a success, for all her youth and prettiness. Edward smiled again as he thought of her confusion when he had teased her a few minutes ago about her remark to Pip. Her cheeks had been bright red. Serve her right! No man liked to hear himself spoken of with such scorn, even by a dab of a governess!

No, that was wrong. She might be small, but she wasn’t a dab of anything. An intriguing young woman, Miss Petrie. The girls really liked her, and the servants all treated her with genuine respect. What was her background? She had brought a letter with her, but after a quick glance through he had put it away without bothering to study it more closely. He unlocked a drawer, took out a folder and opened it. The letter of reference was on top, and he picked it up and read it. It was from a Lady Dorney of Lutworth Court, who seemed to be a woman of intelligence and education. Edward remembered meeting Gerard Dorney a few years before. This was clearly his mother. Lady Dorney’s letter recommended Octavia Petrie without reservation, praising her patience, her efficiency, her trustworthiness, her high standard of education…All the virtues. It made the girl sound so worthy! A Miss Froom without the sourness. So very dull.

And yet he had the distinct impression that Miss Petrie was far from dull. He was not quite sure why. She dressed quietly enough, with no attempt to attract. If he had not seen those honey-gold curls that had tumbled about her shoulders at their first meeting he would never have known they existed. Miss Petrie wore her hair in a firmly disciplined knot, or even under a cap. She was not particularly tall, and her figure, from what he had seen of it, was slight. Apart from her forget-me-not blue eyes, he would not have said there was anything interesting or attractive about her to a man whose taste ran to women like Louise Kerrall. For a moment he tried to think of Louise as he had last seen her, petulant but still seductively lovely…but the image of Miss Petrie kept getting in the way.

Miss Petrie wasn’t dull. She was quick-witted and amusing. And there was something about that small figure: the imperious turn of the head, the straight back, the slender neck. Her carriage was graceful, her manner unassuming, but Miss Petrie was neither humble nor respectful, not underneath. Like Pip, she had a mind of her own, and though she was more skilled at disguising it, she was no more prepared than Pip to give way without argument.

Edward Barraclough was intrigued. Perhaps he should spend more of the time he was forced to spend at Wychford in getting to know his nieces’ governess! He told himself with a grin that he would be perfectly safe. No risk of being caught. He had heard it from the lady’s own mouth—Miss Petrie wouldn’t consider him as material for a husband, not under any circumstances! What was more, she had sounded as if she meant it. For a moment Edward Barraclough was tempted to prove her wrong, but he rejected it instantly. It might well be an interesting exercise, but one did not seduce governesses—not if one were a gentleman.

As a result of these musings Mr Barraclough began to pay more attention to his nieces’ progress at Wychford. He found Miss Petrie’s methods of instruction unconventional—certainly by Miss Froom’s standards. But to his surprise they were in fact quickly making up for lost ground. It was true that laughter was quite frequently heard coming from the room set aside for their morning lessons, but, when he stopped to listen, it always subsided after a moment and was followed by a period of eager discussion, then silence, or questions and answers. Sometimes Miss Petrie read aloud to them. Her voice was beautiful—warm, low in pitch and slightly husky.

When the weather was suitable the governess took her charges into the grounds in the afternoons, and Edward made an effort to join them occasionally. He discovered that lessons were not confined to the mornings in the schoolroom. The girls might not realise it, but they were learning a great deal more while they enjoyed themselves outdoors. Artists, music, scenes from history, a comparison of the plants to be found in the West Indies with those they found in the grounds of Wychford—these and many other topics were taken up to be discussed, dropped if they proved dull, or pursued the next day if they were interesting. At first Miss Petrie seemed inhibited by his presence, but as she grew more used to him he discovered that she used him quite ruthlessly to expand the scope of their discussions, and he was closely questioned by all three about his travels.

Each girl had a notebook for records. Lisette was their botanical recorder. Her exquisite line drawings of leaves, trees and late-blooming flowers were carefully dated and kept in a large folder. Some of them had been turned into delicate watercolours. Pip was more interested in animals and buildings. Her book was filled with bizarre sketches of birds, mice, insects, windows, gable corners, gargoyles and, of course, chimney pots. But the measurements and notes underneath were neatly kept, and checked by Miss Petrie.

And always, at some point in the walk, there would be a game, or some form of more energetic exercise. Pip needed no encouragement, but even Lisette was persuaded to run or skip.