The Defiant Governess Read online

  * * * *

  Jane raced blindly down the corridor, only vaguely aware of where she was or the sympathetic glances from the servants. She only knew that she had to make it to the front door, to the fresh air, to her horse.

  Once mounted, with her stallion striding out in full gallop over the broad meadows of the estate, she finally gave way to her tears. They stung her face as the wind whipped at them. Her sobs mingled with the thudding of the hooves, creating a symphony of despair that she felt to her very heart. No one had a right to break her spirit, she told herself. No one! And yet she felt so alone, so small against the censure of her father, her family, the rules of Society. Was there anyone who would understand how she felt?

  There was Nanna. Or, more properly Miss Nancy Withers, who had come to Avanlea with the young slip of a girl who had been Jane’s mother. Nanna, who had been her mother’s nurse, who had followed her young mistress to serve as nurse to a new generation of children and who, by unspoken agreement of everyone in the household, had remained after the death of Jane’s mother to keep a watchful eye on the two children, even long after they were out of the nursery.

  It was to Nanna that a frightened and confused eight-year-old girl had run to when the vast house suddenly fell silent and cold, then filled with a sea of black clad adults that spoke in low voices to her Papa. It was Nanna who slowly coaxed a little sunshine back into all their lives, sharing picnics by the river, getting gloriously muddy hunting for polliwogs along its shallow banks, and even sparking the first laugh from their father by loosing a barnyard cat into the inner sanctum of Mrs. Greenwell’s kitchen. Oh, how they had had to stifle their merriment at the look on that august personage’s face on seeing a muddy ball of fur plopped on an expanse of polished pine lapping cream from one of her spotless Staffordshire pitchers. Their father had hurried them from the door so as not to have the bad manners of laughing aloud, but once in his study they had all collapsed with mirth until tears rolled down their cheeks. That one shared moment had seemed to break the ice of his grief and once again he became the papa of old, sharing long rides around the estate and dinner together in the evenings.

  It was Nanna, too, who she and Thomas had shared the intimate moments of growing up. The magic of a perfectly formed robin’s egg, the tears at being too young to go to Town with Papa, the wonder of a first kiss.

  Though she had retired to her own snug cottage on the estate last year, on Jane’s first Season, declaring that now her little ones were truly grown up and didn’t need her anymore, Jane rode over frequently to visit when she home. Settling at Nanna’s knee while Nanna knitted, just as she had as a little girl, she would regale her beloved old nurse with the latest gossip from London as well as confessing her and Thomas’s latest escapades. Nanna chuckled and scolded, Jane looked contrite and they both laughed and took comfort in the familiar warmth of each other’s presence.

  Jane burst through the door with a sob and without a word Nanna gathered her to her ample breast, thinking ruefully how little distance there was between eight and twenty.

  “Come, come,” she soothed, patting Jane’s disheveled hair. “It’s not like you to be such a watering pot. Dry your eyes while I fix some tea and then you’ll tell me all about it.”

  She disengaged Jane’s arms and handed her a linen hanky. “Now let me guess,” she called as she put a kettle on the stove. “Lord Edgarton has proved a sad disappointment because the poem he’s sent is not up to snuff with Byron’s. Or is it Baron Haverill has refused to let you drive his matched greys, even though you are an infinitely better whip than he is?”

  Jane couldn’t help smiling in spite of her quivering lower lip. “Oh, Nanna, do you too think I am such a frivolous thing?”

  “I’m quizzing you, love, as well you know. Now come sit down and tell your old Nanna what is wrong.”

  * * * *

  Jane hugged her cup close to her chest as if she needed its warmth. “So you see,” she finished, “I am in an impossible situation.”

  Nanna shook her head. “Your aunt has always been a meddlesome woman, always sparking no good. But I have been fearing your father would do something like this for some time now. I know he has been ill at ease about you. He has long worried that he hasn’t provided you with the proper upbringing for a lady—it has been rather unconventional, you know—and he is quite concerned about making a good match for you. And you haven’t helped allay his concerns, Missy, with your behavior.”

  “But I will not be treated like…a prize mare, my merits and faults discussed by others, to be given, on careful consideration, to the highest bidder. I won’t! I am a person with my own mind and I will not have my freedom taken away.”

  Nanna recognized the mulish tone in her former charge’s voice and shot her a reproving look.

  Jane bit her lip. “I’m sorry to sound like a fishwife, but when Thomas engages in pranks he is called high-spirited—I am called shameful. It’s not fair!”

  “No, it isn’t. It never has been,” answered Nanna softly. “You know that well enough and it’s something you must learn to accept.”

  “Must I?” asked Jane. “You, too, think I should accede to my father’s demands and spend the rest of my life with a husband I care nothing for, a man who may order my entire existence exactly how he wishes?”

  “Now, now.” Nanna stroked Jane’s hair. “I didn’t say that. I just mean that it is time you admit that in your station in life you have certain options: You may remain on the shelf and care for your father in his dotage or become a doting spinster aunt to Thomas’s future brood, hanging in his pocket and always making his wife feel a bit out of sorts with you—a life I assure you would not suit!

  “That’s not the only option. I shall have an independent income when I come of age, I could set up my own house with a woman companion—you, Nanna. We could have our own establishment and do as we please.”

  Nanna shook her head. “Do you really think that would suit you either? No, you must marry. Certainly not Frederick Hawthorne if you don’t wish it. But perhaps there is another young lord whom you are not adverse to. I’m sure your father would relent if you promised him you would settle down and apply yourself seriously to seeking a man you could be happy with.”

  “So instead of having my father sell me off, you would have me sell myself?” interrupted Jane bitterly. She tried to picture a face among the scores of eligible men who had ever shown a spark of true humor or hint of understanding when she attempted a heartfelt opinion. A void expanded inside her. “If these are the rules of my class, I wish them to the Devil! I never wish to marry! Would that I could change places with Mary Langley. No one bothers to try to force a farmer’s daughter to marry against her will.”

  Nanna shook her head sadly. She loved Jane as a daughter and her heart went out to her in her misery. But she had seen this day coming for some time. With Jane’s wealth and rank it had only been a matter of time before her independent streak of word and action would result in the reins being tightened. A part of her rebelled along with Jane at the injustice of it. Why, indeed, could a woman not be free to act as she chose? But she knew it was inevitable and it was better to help Jane realize and accept it.

  “Little one, you are no longer a child but an adult, and must grow up and accept the responsibility of your station. Your life has changed.” She noted the stubborn tilt of Jane’s jaw, a look so familiar that she nearly smiled in spite of herself.

  “But you always encouraged me to think that a woman had as keen a mind as a man. Why should I submit myself to the…tyranny of marriage? You never did!”

  A cloud passed over Nanna’s face. “That is true, my dear. But don’t think I haven’t missed things in life for it.” She paused. “And don’t think that your friend Mary has such a sweet life of it. Yes, she and Martin are in love and will be married. But until he found a position at Deerfield Manor he had no prospects and she was forced to look for a position, which as you know I helped her find. A good one,
too, for it was as a governess to one small boy, the ward of a Marquess who lives out of the country. I had heard through my sister, whose dear friend—well, it doesn’t signify. But mind you, she was going to work!

  “And control her own destiny,” interrupted Jane.

  “A fine destiny,” said Nanna sternly. “In the employ of someone else. It’s not such a fine life to work, my dear, though you shall never know it.”

  “Better than being leg-shackled. At least she can give an employer notice” retorted Jane.

  “In any case, it is of no consequence for Mary. Martin is now upper footman to Lord Harbaugh and they will wed in three week’s time. I’m sure she means to tell you herself tomorrow. She just stopped by here to give me the news and ask me to write her regrets that she is no longer able to take the position.” Nanna motioned towards an envelope on her side table. “I have the letter right here. Would you be a dear and have your father frank it for me? I don’t plan to walk into the village for another few days.”

  Jane slipped the letter into the pocket of her riding habit. “Of course.”

  Nanna gave her an affectionate hug. “Now, it’s time for you to be off home or you’ll be late for supper. Think about what I have said.”

  * * * *

  Jane spurred her horse into a smart canter. Her initial shock and despair had given way to an unyielding resolve. Just as everyone else was set on making her change, she was determined to do things on her own terms. No one would bridle her spirit! No one! Just what she would do, she still wasn’t sure but just the mere fact that she had made such a decision buoyed her spirits. She urged Midnight to greater speed, reveling in the feel of the wind in her hair and the raw energy of her mount. As she bent close over his mane something jabbed her side and she remembered the letter in her pocket. Tugging at the reins, she slowed to a walk and took out the cream-colored envelope: Mrs. R. Fairchild, Highwood,———shire it said. After a moment’s hesitation she broke the seal and took out the folded sheet of paper:

  Dear Mrs. Fairchild,

  I regret to inform you that the young lady I recommended to you, Miss Mary Langley, will be unable to take up the post of governess to the Marquess of Saybrook’s ward due to her forthcoming marriage. I know you expected her to arrive in a week’s time, on March 21, and I am most sorry for any trouble this will cause you. Unfortunately I know of no other persons with the proper qualifications in this area that I might recommend to you. It is to be hoped that other of your acquaintances will be of more help to you.

  Respectfully,

  Miss Nancy Withers

  Jane refolded the letter and put it back in her pocket. As Midnight continued his leisurely gait homeward, she patted it thoughtfully and a small smile crept to her lips, one of grim satisfaction.

  * * *

  Chapter 2

  “Mary, I wish you joy, truly I do,” said Jane as she hugged her childhood friend. Though Mary Langley was just the daughter of one of her father’s tenant farmers they had become fast friends as little girls and spent countless hours playing together. Nanna had encouraged the friendship, sensing that the motherless little girl needed such a companionship. She had even, with the Duke’s approval, seen to it that Mary had been included in some schooling, noting that as well as making the time more enjoyable for Jane and Thomas, it was providing the girl with a means of bettering her own life when she grew up. A well-educated girl could find work as a governess or companion, a step above being a farmer’s wife.

  Even as the girls grew up and the gap between their social status stretched more obviously between them Jane never forgot her friend, and the two of them still spent time together, Mary listening raptly to the descriptions of balls, evening gowns and—heaven on heaven—the Assemblies at Almack’s.

  “Oh, Jane!” replied Mary. “I’m up in the boughs. I don’t deserve to be so happy!” She shot her friend a guilty look. “I’m sorry about you and your father. Perhaps His Grace...”

  “Nonsense.” Jane smiled. “Let us not talk of my problems. I have faith that they will prove to be not insurmountable,” she said obliquely. “Now, about Martin. I have always liked him. Tell me all about...” And she let her friend chatter on for the better part of half an hour.

  “Oh,” finished Mary. “I’ve been a prosy bore, haven’t I, rattling on like this? I’ve kept you far too long.”

  “Not at all. I’ve thoroughly enjoyed myself.”

  Jane got up off the simple iron bedstead and wandered around the neat little whitewashed bedroom that Mary shared with a younger sister. A trunk was half packed in expectation of her coming move and one or two dresses lay draped over a wooden chair.

  “Tell me, have you a few simple dresses—preferably grey or mouse brown—that you’d be willing to sell to me?”

  Mary looked at her in astonishment. “Why, whatever for?”

  Jane sat back on the bed and threw her arm around her friend’s shoulders. “Do you promise not to tell a soul?”

  Mary laughed, the scene so reminiscent of countless times before—Jane always instigating some mischief and herself a not too unwilling partner. “Why is it that I sense I should leave the room right now?”

  “There’s really nothing for you to do,” began Jane.

  Mary rolled her eyes. “How many times have I heard that!”

  “Truly. Just the dresses and your vow of silence.”

  “Go on. You know I can’t say no to you. And besides, I’m dying of curiosity.”

  “You are engaged to be governess to the Marquess of Saybrook’s ward...”

  “Were,” corrected Mary. “You know very well that Nanna has written my regrets.”

  “No indeed she hasn’t. In fact tomorrow a letter is to be posted informing the housekeeper that Miss Langley will arrive on the twenty-first, as expected.”

  A look of horror spread across Mary’s face as the import of Jane’s words dawned on her. “You must be mad! Oh, it would never do. You, as a governess!”

  “It suits perfectly. I am more than capable of teaching a seven-year-old his lessons. And the situation couldn’t be more perfect. The Marquess never visits his estate. The only ones there are the housekeeper and the servants, so there is not a chance of running into any houseguests who might recognize me.”

  “I don’t know.” Mary shook her head doubtfully. “It doesn’t seem right—you, a servant.” She looked searchingly at her friend. “Have you really considered what it is like to work for someone?”

  Jane returned her gaze. “I have thought about what it would be like to marry someone I don’t care for. At least I may quit an employer. Besides, how truly awful can it be? The housekeeper is a friend of one of Nanna’s acquaintances and is said to be a kindly woman. It is she I’ll have to deal with. My biggest complaint will most likely be that things are too dull. I’ll manage just fine, so please say you’ll help.”

  Mary nodded reluctantly. “Of course I will. You know I’ll not see you forced to act against your will. Now, I have a few gowns that will do. It’s lucky that I’m a Long Meg too, though fuller than you. And you’ll need other things I’m sure you haven’t thought of. You’ll not have your abigail to take care of your needs, you know.” She began to get in the spirit of things.” I have a list I made for myself. We shall pack a small trunk here. Martin can take it to Luddington next week and send it on by coach to Highwood.”

  “How clever. I had been wondering how to get my things out of the house,” admitted Jane.

  “Well, we’ll manage.” She eyed Jane’s blond locks. “We’ll have to do something about your hair.”

  “My hair!” exclaimed Jane.

  “I’ll give you a walnut leaf wash to dull its color. And spectacles. Yes, that will be a good touch.”

  It was Jane’s turn to look surprised.

  “No matter that’s it’s only a housekeeper instead of the Marquess. There will still be other servants and it doesn’t do to be too…you know, attractive. Mamma has explained to me how Lords
may look upon a governess.”

  “Oh,” breathed Jane. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

  “And no doubt not a good many other practical things. We shall have to sit down and go over what is proper behavior...”

  “Not you too,” muttered Jane.

  “If you are going to pull this off, you cannot act like a Duke’s daughter,” warned Mary.

  “You’re right of course. I’ll be a quick study, never fear.” She gave Mary a quick hug. “Thank you. You are the best of friends.”

  “Just see that this whole scheme doesn’t land you in deeper suds than you are already in or I’ll never forgive myself.”

  “Oh, don’t worry. What possible consequences can come from a little harmless deception?”

  Mary looked doubtful. How many times had she heard similar sentiments being uttered, in complete sincerity, at the start of some madcap adventure?

  * * * *

  Late that night, after sitting through another dinner marked by the strained civility that had spring up between her and her father, Jane dismissed her abigail, sat down at her writing desk and took out a sheet of paper, She unfolded Nanna’s letter and, copying the familiar looping script, began to write:

  Dear Mrs. Fairchild,

  I am happy to inform you that Miss Jane Langley will arrive at Highwood on March 21, as expected. I trust she will prove satisfactory.”

  Jane paused for a moment, then, with a mischievous gleam in her eye, added

  I assure you she is a very biddable and well-behaved young woman, even a trifle shy, and will give you no trouble at all.

  * * * *

  Dawn had not yet broken a few days later when a lone figure clad in a hooded cloak and carrying a worn valise and reticule slipped out of the kitchen door of Avanlea into the shadows of the shrubbery. It passed, like a ghostly specter, into the surrounding woods. The moon scudded in and out of the clouds, offering little light by which to see among the tangle of underbrush and brambles, but Jane was not deterred by the thorns that caught at the rough wool of her garments. She quickly found the path that the gamekeeper used to patrol the upper reaches of the estate and hurried her pace even more. After perhaps a mile, she reached a broad meadow where she climbed over the stile and turned left, keeping herself close in the dark shadows of the surrounding stone wall. At the far corner she heard a soft whinny and was relieved to see a rough cart silhouetted against the sky, a solitary figure stroking the horse’s head to keep it quiet. At the sound of her footsteps, the figure moved forward to take the valise and help her onto the open seat.