text:
Strona główna A Governess for the Brooding Duke
A Governess for the Brooding Duke
Barton Bridget
Pobierz (mobi, 524 KB)
georgette999
miss darrington254
eleri149
ffion136
hamilton131
lady lyndon114
cynthia111
draycott92
mrs wells88
lady cynthia75
georgette could68
mrs griffin65
eleri and ffion61
draycott hall60
housekeeper57
schoolroom54
georgette knew47
josephine47
dreadful47
butler37
aunt cynthia36
georgette felt35
mrs evans33
carwyn28
lady louisa27
daresay26
georgette rather25
duke of draycott24
henrietta21
carwyn thomas21
georgette would20
georgette looked20
new governess19
georgette thought19
beddgelert18
dreadfully18
oxfordshire17
mr pearson17
mr winstanley16
georgette simply16
beautifully15
georgette rather thought15
jug15
georgette darrington15
mr wharton15
georgette smiled15
nieces14
georgette realized14
countenance14
bonnet13
A Gossamer Lens
Mathias M R
File: AZW3 , 623 KB
A REGENCY ROMANCE NOVEL
BRIDGET BARTON
Copyright © 2017 by Bridget Barton
This book may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form without the written permission of the publisher.
In no way is it legal to reproduce, duplicate, or transmit any part of this document in either electronic means or in printed format. Recording of this publication is strictly prohibited and any storage of this document is not allowed unless with written permission from the publisher.
Facebook: Bridget Barton
Free Exclusive Gift
Sign up for my mailing list to be notified of hot new releases and get my latest Full-Length Novel "Honorable Rosalind's Heart" (available only to my subscribers) for FREE!
Click the link or enter it into your browser
http://bridgetbarton.com/sxez
When Georgette Darrington's father dies suddenly and with serious debts, she imagines things cannot get any worse. But when her attorney tells her that the family home must be sold to pay the debts, leaving her penniless and without a home, her only choice is to become a governess.
In no time at all, Georgette finds herself in the grand mansion of the Duke of Draycott, teaching his delightful, orphaned nieces. But, the more time Georgette spends with the little girls, the more she realizes they are missing their home and life in Wales, not to mention their own language.
Georgette must find a way to convince the Duke to take an interest in the girls' lives, and she must also find a way to keep their native language alive despite his determined instructions to the contrary.
As the tragic tale of the Duke's sister and her forbidden love unfolds, Georgette must struggle with the deprivations of her lowered status, not to mention the spiteful plots and schemes of a jealous housekeeper and nurse.
As her loneliness threatens to overwhelm her, Georgette must find a way put the splintered family back together, even as she battles her own feelings of love for the handsome, taciturn Duke.
"Are you telling me, Mr Wharton, that there is really nothing at all? My father left me nothing?" Georgette Darrington was so shocked that she felt nauseous.
"I am afraid not, Miss Darrington. It is not that he chose to leave you nothing, my dear. Rather the sale of the house will barely cover the debts he accrued in his lifetime. In truth, he has made it clear that you shall be the sole beneficiary of whatever the residue is after the debts are cleared. Unfortunately, there is no residue."
"But he will have known this, Mr Wharton. My father would have been very well aware of the size of his debts and the value of his house. He would have known very well that he was leaving me destitute, and yet he chose to say nothing. He chose to give me not one moment's grace to gather my thoughts and work out what I ought to do next."
"I daresay things feel awfully raw at the moment, Miss Darrington. It is only a week since you buried your father, and this must be a most distressing time for you." Mr Wharton delivered what Georgette thought was truly the biggest understatement she had ever heard.
Georgette had mourned her father as much as it was possible for her to do given the relationship they had. His passing had distressed her and had rather given her the feeling of being an orphan, despite being almost one and twenty years of age.
The reading of the will, however, was truly equally as distressing. In many ways, more so, because it was tinged with fear. Of course, when the reality of it finally settled itself within her mind, Georgette Darrington knew that she would no longer be simply afraid but would be rather terrified. Because, if what the attorney was telling her was absolutely true, then she was not simply homeless, but also penniless.
"Raw?" Georgette said, surprised by how calm her voice sounded. "Yes, I daresay."
"And you have no family to go to?" Mr Wharton was asking a question he already knew the answer to.
The reason Georgette Darrington was the sole heiress to her father's estate, albeit a non-existent one, was because there were no male heirs, even in terms of extended family. In truth, Georgette was the very last of the Darringtons, and her father had no other family to speak of. If she had any relations remaining on her mother's side, then Georgette did not know it. And, in any case, nobody, man or woman, would have inherited in Georgette's maternal family anyway.
In truth, she rather wished that her mother had come from a bigger family. If she had, then Georgette would not be entirely alone and without options at that moment. She would have had, if nothing else, at least a few relations to whom to write and beg for shelter. And it would have been begging in every sense of the word, for it would seem that she would not even have a few pounds a year with which to keep herself. Georgette's father had spent every last penny and more besides.
Edward Darrington had neither been an easy father nor a hard one. He was simply incredibly detached from his only child, presumably disappointed that she was not a male. It had always struck her that he was further disappointed that she was the one and only child he and his wife had managed to produce in the fifteen years they shared together before Georgette's mother had died.
Whilst he had not particularly showered the motherless Georgette with affection, he had not specifically made many demands of her either. In truth, she had been rather left to go her own way and, if she was entirely honest, had quite liked it.
Georgette had not especially thought much of marriage beforehand, rather thinking herself to have a good deal of time in which to contemplate the matter. And her father, seemingly having no ambitions for her in that sense, simply left her to herself.
Edward Darrington had not urged her to find a man of wealth or title, nor even one who had neither of those things. In truth, Georgette had been quite grateful for it, for she had known many a young woman with a rather determined family forcing her into the path of a man she did not want.
"Mr Wharton, I have no family," Georgette said, bleakly. "I have no family; I have no money, and now I have no home. I truly have nothing, do I?" She looked up at him with sorrowful, dark brown eyes.
"Did you have no notion whatsoever of your father's spending?" Mr Wharton said, although his tone was in no way judgemental.
"I knew that my father liked the card tables and the drink; I just did not know how much. What I mean is, I had no idea how much he was spending on the card tables. It must have been the card tables, after all, for a man could not spend an entire house on drink and live to be fifty, could he?"
"No, indeed." Mr Wharton shook his head sadly. "Your father, I am afraid to say, is reputed to have developed the habit of bidding rather large amounts. Perhaps he was simply trying to win back enough money to save himself and thought the larger amounts might do it."
"No, I know my father a little better than that. He liked the thrill of such things. He would bet on anything, as long as there was something to be gained from it. I daresay that, in the end, with the thrill lessening, the only way to get that same excitement back would be to gamble larger amounts."
"Whatever the reason, my dear Miss Darrington, it would appear that he has left you in rather a sorry sort of a state."
"I simply cannot imagine, nor do I really want to hear, the figure that my father owed. Our townhouse in London, when it is sold, would certainly fetch a tremendous amount of money. If that barely pays my father's debts, then I feel truly ashamed of him."
As she spoke of their London townhouse, Georgette felt her throat tighten. For the first time since the terrible news had been delivered, she rather feared that she might cry. In her mind's eye, she was looking up at the huge house with its white stone frontage and great columns either side of an immense black door. There were four floors to the great house and windows everywhere. She could hardly believe that it would very soon no longer be her home.
And what of the staff? Her father had kept a butler and housekeeper, a valet, a cook, and two maids. Not to mention a stable-hand.
"Oh, my goodness, I am going to have to tell the staff, am I not?" Georgette's voice trembled audibly. "And really, I have no idea what I am to say to them. They will have to find work elsewhere and at such short notice."
"Just be sure to promise them all a very good character reference. If they are good staff and are provided with a good character, then they will manage perfectly well. They will find work very easily in London in another home of good standing," the attorney said kindly. "You have other concerns, Miss Darrington. It is time to think of yourself and only yourself."
"I do not know where to begin."
"Forgive me for asking, nay intruding, Miss Darrington, but do you have an understanding of any sort with a young man? Is marriage a possibility at this juncture?"
"You need not ask for my forgiveness, Mr Wharton. It is clear that you are simply trying to help me," Georgette said, blinking hard. "And no, I do not have an understanding with anybody. And I daresay that now, that would be quite impossible."
"Perhaps not impossible," Mr Wharton said, but Georgette could tell from his tone that he was simply trying to soothe her.
For Georgette knew that it was impossible. Even if she had hoped to marry for love, still there would have been certain expectations of finance, status, and class that any future husband would expect. Of course, had she already been well on her way to marriage, it would likely not have been an issue. However, to actually tempt a young man into matrimony when she had nothing to offer but her homeless and penniless status would be impossible. Not only that but where was she to meet such a young man now?
Despite the fact that she was the daughter of a minor baron, the Honorable Miss Georgette Darrington, no less, still, she had nothing. And her title was so minor that it would not matter to anybody, and she would probably do well to forget it. In truth, it was barely a title at all.
"Mr Wharton, you know as well as I do that invitations are not going to come quite thick and fast to me anymore. After all, where would they be sent? I have no home." Georgette felt thoroughly miserable. "I suppose this shall be the test of my friends, shall it not? Let us see, when all is known, and everybody has heard of the downturn in my fortunes, just how many of my friends and acquaintances are keen to see me."
"You are looking into the future already, Miss Darrington. You will upset yourself even more than is necessary with thoughts of friends and acquaintances. They are, as are the staff, much further down your list."
The ageing attorney rose from the seat behind his desk and strode towards the door of his office. When he opened it, Georgette could hear him speaking to the housekeeper and asking for some tea to be sent in. In truth, Georgette thought that she would hardly be able to swallow the tea, even if she tried.
For a few moments, Georgette simply looked around the austere office. She wondered if she would ever see inside it again, or ever need the services of an attorney. After all, the very poorest would hardly expect such things, would they?
Feeling almost as if she had slipped into a dream, Georgette stared hazily around the room. She let her eyes fall upon the two walls which were lined with shelves. There was not a spare space on any of the shelves, each and every one of them crammed to capacity with great leather-bound legal volumes and stated cases.
The remaining walls were painted a rather dark and unappealing green colour, a sort of brownish green which, added to the fact that the windows were really rather small, made the whole room seemed cramped and somewhat airless.
"I have asked for some tea to be sent in, Miss Darrington. I realize what a dreadful shock you have had, and I cannot imagine quite how you must be feeling."
"You are very kind, Mr Wharton. In truth, I cannot say for sure that I shall be able to drink the tea, but I shall try nonetheless." Georgette realized that she was being incredibly polite and wondered quite where she might need such manners in the future. Would she ever be in good society again?
"It rather feels like the only comfort I can offer you, my dear," he said and, judging by his expression of sad helplessness, he clearly meant it.
"Mr Wharton, what on earth should I do?" Georgette said, just as the housekeeper bustled into the room carrying a laden tea-tray.
Mr Wharton waited until his housekeeper had set their tea things and left the room before he spoke again.
"In truth, there are very few options for a young lady of breeding who has fallen on hard times. However, you do have an exemplary education and the wit and intelligence to make good use of it."
"By teaching?" Georgette said. "But surely, to open a dame school, one needs to at least have a house in which to teach the children."
"I was not talking of setting up a school, my dear. As you quite rightly point out, you shall have no accommodations for such a thing. No, I was rather thinking of your perhaps taking up a position as a governess." The moment he had finished speaking, the old attorney looked down into his teacup.
"A governess?" Georgette said, unable to hide the mixture of surprise and disappointment in her voice. "I could not possibly become a governess. Really, I could not."
"But it would be a most suitable method of overcoming your particular struggles at the moment, Miss Darrington. You would be provided with food and board and, assuming you are able to procure the right position in the right household, you would be paid quite reasonably."
"I had never thought that my life would come to this. I had never for one moment imagined that I would become a governess, a stranger in the home of others, no prospects nor even security. I can hardly bear it, Mr Wharton." And, finally, Georgette Darrington began to cry. "I am terribly sorry, do forgive me," she said between sniffs as she drew an immaculate white lace handkerchief from the long sleeve of her gown.
"I realize that this has all come as a terrible shock, and for you to have to make a decision about your future so very quickly is truly appalling, Miss Darrington. But make a decision you must, my dear, because you have so little time. Please believe me that I would not have suggested such a position had I not thought of everything else possible. In truth, there is no respectable job for a lady of genteel upbringing who has suddenly found herself impoverished. No respectable job, that is, except governess. I am rather afraid that so many young ladies turn to the profession because they have found themselves suddenly as you have, in dire financial straits and with no other options. I really am most terribly sorry."
"Then that is it, is it not? My future is set." She shook her head in disbelief. She looked at the clock on the wall and could hardly believe that only twenty minutes had passed since first she had heard of her terrible circumstances.
Only that morning, as she had prepared herself to visit her attorney for the reading of her father's will, Georgette had found herself wondering quite what the future would hold. She knew that she would not miss her father a great deal, even though his passing had saddened her. He had never been a particularly warm man, and since her mother passed when she was but fifteen years, he had taken very little notice of her at all.
But he had provided for her and provided well. He had ensured that she was as well-educated as her mother had always wanted her to be, and she truly wanted for nothing. Whilst she was not an ostentatious young lady, she knew that she had only to ask for a new gown and a dressmaker would be sent for. It was not a thing that she took great advantage of, but it had always been rather a comfort to know that she was well looked after.
If only she had known the truth. If only her father had told her long ago of their troubles, then at least she would have had time to plan. She would not have so easily dismissed out of hand the attentions of many a suitable young man. Had her father been honest with her, Georgette would have realized the importance of being realistic, rather than carefree and most exacting in her wants concerning a husband.
If only her father had given her that one thing. If only he had given her time, for surely that was not something he had gambled away also.
"Do take a seat, Miss … Miss …?" Mr Shelford Winstanley, proprietor of the Winstanley Employment Registry, had clearly forgotten her name the moment she had given it.
Had she described herself as the Honorable Miss Georgette Darrington, then perhaps he might not have forgotten it quite so readily. However, Georgette knew that when one was penniless and homeless, to describe oneself in such a way was simply ridiculous.
"Darrington. Georgette Darrington," she said, a little impatiently.
"Yes, of course," he said and smiled at her. He had rather a long nose, and his small, beady eyes were quite close together. All in all, Georgette rather thought that he looked like some sort of bird of prey. "And please do take a seat, Miss Darrington," he insisted again, this time holding a chair out for her.
"Thank you, Mr Winstanley."
Georgette had only ever heard of employment registries because that was where her father tended to procure servants for his own household. And he had always referred to such establishments as servant registries because, in truth, that was exactly what they were. Everybody of her acquaintance referred to them as servant registries, and she could not help thinking that Mr Winstanley was somehow trying to give himself airs or at least give his little establishment airs, at any rate.
When she had first told her dearest friend, Henrietta Sheridan, of the dreadful circumstances in which she found herself, she had barely been able to speak the words. When she had finally come to tell Henrietta that she intended to find a good servant registry and offer her services in the hope of employment, she had simply cried. And Henrietta had cried also.
"Is it really so very bad, Georgette?" Henrietta had said, dabbing at her eyes with a crisp white handkerchief as Georgette herself did the very same.
"It is as bad as it can possibly be, Henrietta. The house in which we now sit in is soon to be sold to the highest bidder so that my father's gambling debts might be paid off."
"But surely there will be something left?" Henrietta had said hopefully.
"The attorney rather thinks that the proceeds from the sale will just about cover my father's debts. There will be nothing left."
"And must you really go to a servant registry office?" Henrietta had said, stumbling over the words.
"I have talked the whole thing out with Mr Wharton, and he can see no other path to choose. After all, I have no family. I have no near or distant cousins, nor anybody with whom I might stay. If I do not seek work as a governess, I shall have nothing. At least as a governess I shall, if nothing else, have a roof over my head and food to eat."
"And, in truth, you will not be treated as one of the servants." Henrietta, good friend that she was, had hurriedly dried her eyes and done what she could to appear optimistic.
"No, I shall not be exactly treated as one of the servants, but I shall not be one of the household either. I shall be neither one thing nor the other, shall I? Is that not the very tragedy of the governess?"
"I am sure that it would be far worse to be one of the servants, Georgette. At least you will be able to study and have pride in the fact that you are teaching all which you yourself have learned. You will be an educator, my dear."
"Oh, Henrietta, whatever am I going to do without you?" Georgette had said, smiling through her tears. "Who will pretend that all shall be well when I am alone and do not have you with me?"
"I am not pretending, my dear. And even if we are parted, I shall write to you constantly. We shall still be friends, Georgette, wherever you are."
"And I fear you shall be my only friend, Henrietta."
"But you have so many friends and acquaintances, my dear Georgette. You really must not think that way."
"Oh, Henrietta. When news of my misfortune is all over London, I shall be friendless. No young lady wants me as a reminder of what a sudden change in fortunes looks like. And none of them shall know what to say to me, so would choose not to speak to me at all than to have to suffer the awkwardness of such a conversation. My friends are not all as you are, Henrietta. You are a true friend, and that is all."
"So, Miss Darrington, what sort of work would you be looking for?" Mr Shelford Winstanley brought Georgette back to the here and now with his curiously high-pitched voice coupled with the dreadful scraping of his chair as he drew it back.
"Governess," Georgette said a little sharply, and then thought better of it. After all, she very much needed Mr Winstanley. Her pride was telling her that he ought to have known by her mode of dress and obvious genteel upbringing that she was not seeking a position as a housekeeper, but she knew she was simply being sensitive and that her sensitivity would do her no good in the end. "I am looking for work as a governess, Mr Winstanley." She attempted a polite smile.
"Of course," he said, smiling back and seemingly unaware of her poor humour. "And have you recently left a position?" He leaned forward and, as he tipped his head down a little, Georgette thought his nose looked even longer.
"No, Mr Winstanley. I have not left a position, nor have I ever had one. I have not worked before, you see."
Georgette saw a smile pass fleetingly across his lips. In her world, never to have worked was a sign of status. In the world of Shelford Winstanley, it was likely a sign of uselessness. For a moment, Georgette pondered the differences of class. Work was unheard of in one, and its lack frowned upon in another. Well, since she was very much entering a lower social status, then she would have to accept all that came with it.
"Oh, I see." From the look on his face, Georgette knew that Mr Winstanley was finally gathering that her circumstances had taken a sudden and dramatic downward turn.
No doubt, he had seen many a well-bred young lady who had suffered a similar fate coming through his doors.
"But I can assure you that I have a first-rate education, Sir," Georgette said, somewhat defensively.
"I have no doubt, Miss Darrington." Mr Winstanley smiled reassuringly. "And everybody has to start somewhere, do they not?" She knew he was trying to make her feel better but, in truth, it was not working.
"Indeed," she said. "So tell me, do you have anything suitable?"
"At the moment, I have filled all of the governess requirements from my clients," he said, and Georgette felt her heart sink. Once again, she was having her time wasted, and she knew that she had none left to lose. "All but one, that is."
"Oh, so you do have a suitable position?" Georgette knew that she had snapped a little but could not quite take to his way of doing things. After all, if he had a suitable position, then why not simply say so?
"I have a position, Miss Darrington, but whether it is suitable or not, I shall leave to your own discretion to discover."
"What exactly do you mean, Mr Winstanley?"
"I have a position on my books which has been there almost continually for the last six months. I have filled it three times, and no less than three governesses have left the position within weeks of arrival. To be perfectly honest, this is the first time that I have been utterly frank in that regard, but I can see no reason for being any other way. You see, I rather fear that the three governesses I sent out there were quite unprepared for what they found and, as such, were rather disquieted by the whole thing and very quickly returned to me in search of other positions."
"Goodness me, whatever has gone so very wrong on three occasions? Surely there is something wrong with the place?" Georgette said, her mouth going a little dry as her common sense began to tell her that this was her only hope.
"As I understand it, the children in question are not the problem. Rather, it is the employer himself. He has rather an intimidating manner and is little interested in solving any problems which a new governess might find in her new position."
"Such as?" Georgette said, not keen to be flannelled upon the subject.
"Such as problems with other staff members. There is, I believe, a children's nurse who was particularly awkward and a certain amount of isolation for the governess to endure."
"Is that not common for a governess? Not the awkward nurse, I mean, but rather the isolation. After all, the governess is neither fish nor fowl, is she? She is a woman of breeding with no money and therefore does not fit well with either the servants or the master."
"I see that you have a somewhat pragmatic approach to the whole thing, Miss Darrington; a quality that will, undoubtedly, serve you well if you choose to take this particular position."
"What else can you tell me about the family?"
"The master of the house is not father to the children, but rather their guardian. As I understand it, he is not a particularly willing guardian, and it was a responsibility that he never sought. There are two little girls of around four or five years; twins, no less." He paused for a moment. "As to the position itself, it is fairly standard fare for a governess. You are to teach the children the three Rs, as you might expect. On top of reading, writing, and arithmetic, you must also teach the children the typical run of accomplishments. French, piano lessons, watercolour painting, poetry. Whatever you have at your disposal as far as accomplishment training is concerned."
"Well, I have all four of those things at my disposal, Sir, and more besides. And as for the three Rs, I shall have no problem whatsoever in teaching reading, writing, and arithmetic," Georgette said, thoughtfully. "And what are my conditions to be if I choose to take the position?" As nice as it was to discover that she had all of the necessary learning of her own to be able to pass on, the practicalities of her day-to-day life and her payment was going to be really rather more important to her, at least for the time being.
"Well, I must say that the position is particularly well paid. Eighty pounds a year is being offered." He smiled at her, and Georgette could hardly believe that he was, indeed, smiling.
"Eighty pounds a year," she said, her tone entirely flat. In truth, she could not believe that she would have so little.
"Miss Darrington, I realize that this is the first time that you have undertaken such a thing, but I must tell you that the going rate for a governess is something more akin to twenty pounds a year."
"Twenty pounds a year?" she said, incredulously. "That is what my father paid the servants."
"Well, the governess gets a little more than the servants, but ordinarily not very much. And sometimes, there is nothing to choose between the wage of a servant on the upper scale of things and a new governess."
"Really, I had no idea."
"But your conditions would be rather better, I feel sure. You would not necessarily be sleeping in servants' quarters. Obviously, you would not be integral to the main living area of the house, but you would certainly be set a little apart from the other staff." He smiled again.
It was the very idea of being set a little apart that gave Georgette the very worst feeling. Being set apart would be a very good way of ensuring that she was never accepted by the other staff. And, in truth, she was not sure she would have a great deal in common with them even if she were not set apart.
All in all, Georgette knew that the life of the governess was a life of limbo. A woman of good breeding suspended in a world where she could neither progress on her own account nor marry suitably well. She would simply be stuck there with the sort of pay that was so low she would never be able to save her old age. And, having very little time off and few connections, the idea of escaping such a life and into a suitable marriage seemed an impossibility. Add to that the fact that she would almost certainly be denied the right of simple friendship, even company, and she really wondered what, if anything, life had left to offer her.
"And what of the family, Mr Winstanley?" Georgette said miserably.
"Ah, well the house and grounds are, I believe, truly spectacular." Mr Winstanley seemed suddenly to be warming up. This was obviously all that this position had to recommend it, and he was going to sell it for all it was worth. "The household is immense, Miss Darrington, employing almost fifty staff."
"Fifty staff?" Georgette said, quite surprised. For a moment, she thought sadly of the seven staff she had had to write character references for. "Then it must be a very large house."
"The largest in Oxfordshire, Miss Darrington," Mr Winstanley said and, despite the fact that this was clearly something of a problematic vacancy for him, he seemed suddenly puffed up with pride.
"Oxfordshire, Sir?" Georgette said rather shrilly. In truth, she had not imagined that the position would be outside of London.
"Yes, Miss Darrington; Draycott Hall is in Oxfordshire."
"Draycott Hall?" Georgette said, silently trying to work out how many miles there were between London and Oxford. Not, of course, that it mattered a great deal. After all, there was nothing left in London for her to come back to.
"Yes, Draycott Hall. It is the country seat of the Duchy of Draycott."
"Duchy?" Georgette said, her eyes wide with surprise.
"Yes, I rather forgot to mention that your employer would be Hamilton Whitehall, the Duke of Draycott."
The carriage ride, despite stopping for an overnight stay at a coaching inn halfway, still seemed incredibly arduous.
She was traveling post-chaise, and the horses had, by necessity, needed to be changed every fifteen miles. That had meant a change halfway through each of the two days of travel. Still, it was a mail coach and was, as were all mail coaches, rather overloaded with mail and the assorted passengers that it was never designed to take.
Having absolutely no means whatsoever at her disposal, barring a few pounds that she had taken from her bedroom when she had finally quit her home for the last time, Georgette had baulked at the idea of the cost of traveling post-chaise. However, Mr Winstanley at the registry office had immediately informed her that the Duke of Draycott always paid the traveling expenses of the governesses.
As the carriage bumped along, Georgette could not help thinking that the Duke of Draycott must have paid out an awful lot of money for mail coaches in the last six months, particularly if the other governesses had also come from London.
Initially, there had been three other people on the inside of the coach with her when they had first set off from Piccadilly. None of the original three remained by the second day of travelling, each leaving the coach at one of the planned stops to change the horses. However, others had embarked upon their own journeys from those stops, and Georgette felt herself somewhat exhausted from what seemed to her to be almost perpetual introductions to people she had no desire to get to know.
In truth, it was not simply because she did not wish to know anybody, but rather that she did not wish to explain where she was going and why. It was almost as if she feared the scorn. Even people of lower class seemed to look down upon a person who had fallen in fortunes. A young lady of her obvious breeding setting off on a long journey to become a governess in a great house would clearly fit the category perfectly. Without explanation, all in her company would instantly know that she had become suddenly impoverished, and she could not bear it.
At first, the idea that she would be so very far away from London had quite unsettled her. It was almost as if Georgette would, at intervals, forget that she would have no home to return to there, even if she did go back to London.
In the end, she simply tried to think of it in another way. At least if she were not working in London, there would be very little chance of happening upon an acquaintance she had known in better times. More than once, Georgette tried to imagine the horror of being the governess in the house where one of her former acquaintances had arrived as a visitor. In truth, her sense of humiliation would have been complete in such circumstances.
At least in Oxfordshire, she knew nobody, and nobody knew her. And she need not explain to a single person about her former life and what had happened to change everything. She would simply be the governess; anonymous and isolated.
By the time the coach had come upon the immense driveway which would eventually lead to Draycott Hall, Georgette was the only remaining passenger in the post-chaise. In truth, Georgette would not have realized that they had entered the estate of Draycott had the driver not called down to her. She could see no house as yet, only vast woodlands and green fields everywhere. She had even seen a river flowing across the land and had felt the bump of the carriage as it had gone over the bridge which traversed it.
It was not until the driveway dropped down a little and they found themselves in a clearing that she saw the house for the first time. At that moment, Georgette was glad that she was alone inside the carriage, for she gasped audibly.
Georgette had never in her life attended such a place. Whilst she had been a minor member of the aristocracy, still, her father did not have the sort of connections that would have led either of them to so grand a place.
From her vantage point, Georgette could see Draycott Hall in all its glory. It was truly the most enormous mansion she had ever set eyes on, and she now rather wondered quite how only fifty servants could service such a building.
And, much apart from the great woodlands of the estate itself, Draycott Hall was set in the most beautifully landscaped grounds she had ever seen.
Georgette almost pressed her face against the window as if it would somehow give her a better view. Set in the very center of the vast and immaculate green lawns was a great stone fountain of the most immense proportions she had ever seen. The central feature of the fountain was a great stone column with circular platforms, ranging from large at the bottom to very small at the top of the column. The water itself seemed to come from a finial at the very top of the column and slowly trickled down into the first of the circular platforms, overflowing that and flowing into the next. And on it went until all the platforms were filled and the water spilled over into the base of the great stone fountain itself. For a moment, Georgette busied her mind entirely with quite how the thing must work.
She realized, of course, that the source of the water must come from a much higher place, relying upon gravity to force the water up through a pipe of some sort inside the stone column and out the finial at the top. Of course, she had seen the river running across the land and thought that it must surely wind around the back of the great estate to higher ground behind. Still, the work which must have gone into the creation of such a thing must have been truly involved.
Although there was much countryside surrounding London itself, Oxfordshire seemed to be really rather rich in greenery. And the estate itself, the very grounds of Draycott Hall, seemed to contain more countryside than she had ever imagined herself to have been comfortable with. In truth, Georgette had always very much been a town dweller, loving London more than any place she had ever been. Quite how she would do now in the country was beyond her.
They traveled for several more minutes before finally drawing up to the great gravel apron which seemed to surround Draycott Hall on all sides. The post-chaise drew up on the west side of the mansion without hesitation of any kind; clearly, the driver was no stranger to the estate and very likely drove the mail there on a regular basis.
"Well, you are finally here, Miss Darrington," the driver said with a cheery smile as he opened the door for her and gave her his arm to help her out.
"Thank you kindly," Georgette said with a frozen smile. As much as she was grateful to her driver, her nerves had rather begun to overtake her.
"I daresay you will get used to it," he said with a knowing nod and smiled at her so kindly that Georgette felt a little wave of emotion. "It is certainly a very fine place."
"Thank you," Georgette said and smiled this time with a little more warmth. "How very kind of you. And I daresay I will get used to it in time."
"Right, well I will take your trunk down first, and then I will come back for their mail," he said with a smile as he disappeared around the back of the carriage to unstrap her large wooden trunk from the back plate.
With the driver distracted, Georgette took a moment to look around her. Standing in front of so large a building she felt tiny and insignificant, her fears getting ready to overwhelm her. As beautiful as everything seemed to be, surely this would never feel like home. And, as large and as luxurious as she thought her own home had always been, it was as nothing to this very fine estate.
For an awful moment, Georgette wanted nothing more than to climb back into the carriage and tell the driver to take her far, far away. She was almost overcome with a sense of dread and the certain knowledge that she would never, ever like the place. She did not want to meet its master, nor any of its servants. In truth, at that moment, she did not even want to meet her infant charges. Georgette simply wanted to run.
Quite without knowing she was doing it, Georgette began to walk backwards and forwards a little on the spot almost. It was as if her feet were making ready to take flight, and she felt almost unable to stop herself.
Hearing the driver groan as he shouldered the heavy trunk, Georgette knew that she would have to get a firm hold of her senses immediately. Taking a deep breath, she smoothed down her skirts, straightened her spine, and held her chin up. Above all things, she must not creep into that house with her head down as if she were ashamed of herself.
"Oh, thank God for that. Here comes one of the footmen," the driver said, smiling at the smart young man dressed in full livery who was approaching to provide assistance. "This is surely not your job, but I shan't turn the offer down," he went on and laughed.
"I do not mind a bit of heavy lifting now and again," the footman said and smiled back.
"Thank you kindly," Georgette said, keen to let the young footman know that she was grateful for his assistance.
"Think nothing of it," he answered in rather a flat sort of tone, certainly flatter than the one he had used for the driver. "Shall we?" he added, more to the driver than to Georgette, but she followed them nonetheless.
As she followed the two men down the side of the west wing of Draycott Hall, she very quickly realized that she would be entering the building via the tradesmen's entrance. Quite whether she would always be expected to enter thus, she could not tell.
When Georgette saw a woman of rather stern appearance in a stiff looking and plain black gown approaching her, the importance of which door she entered through seemed to leave her. She could not help thinking she had more imminent concerns.
"Miss Darrington, you have arrived at last," the woman said rather harshly. "I am Mrs Griffin, the housekeeper here at Draycott Hall."
"How very nice to meet you, Mrs Griffin," Georgette responded as brightly as she could manage, hoping her nerves were not showing through the facade of calmness.
"I shall first take you through to meet Mr Pearson, the butler, and then you shall be shown the entire below-stairs area. Not that I suppose you will be spending a great deal of time here," she said, seeming rather keen to show her displeasure. "But, nonetheless, it is wise for you to know where you are going if you need to come down here for anything."
"Yes, wise indeed," Georgette said, still brightly but certainly not keen to engage the woman any further. She would simply listen to what she was being told and look at what she was being shown. Too much of an attempt at conversation would very likely not be wise at that moment.
The housekeeper turned sharply on her heel and began to walk away, and Georgette, having almost to run to catch up with her, hastily followed along behind. They took several turns down numerous corridors, all of which seemed to have doors running off them. For the life of her, Georgette thought that she would struggle to find her way back to the entrance if the housekeeper left her at that moment.
As they continued to walk, the housekeeper keeping up her rather extreme pace, Georgette simply concentrated on the clipping of their heels against the immense gray flagstones of the floor. The walls of the corridor were also stone, and there seemed nothing of softness to absorb the sound of their boots on the floor. Everything seemed to echo just a little.
Finally, they turned at the end of another long corridor and, seeing a door in front of them, Georgette rather thought the butler would be found there. In truth, she felt a little angry already that she was being brought before the butler as if she were simply something to be inspected. She wanted to shout and scream that she had lived all her life with a butler of her own and that she would not be belittled in such a way. However, Georgette knew that there was no point.
She was a governess because she had nothing, and everybody there would be very aware of the fact. All she had to recommend her were an exemplary education and good breeding, the very things that would set her apart from the rest of the staff and leave her without friends or company of any kind, she felt sure of it.
"Enter," the butler said rather grandly when the housekeeper knocked loudly upon the door.
Mrs Griffin pushed the door open and walked in, leaving Georgette to trail along behind her. Georgette almost laughed at the whole thing; they seemed to have a little hierarchy below stairs with the butler and the housekeeper clearly seen as the Lord and the Lady in their particular little domain.
Georgette could not help thinking that it did not matter where you were, or what circumstances you were in, somebody somewhere always wanted to be at the top of things. Somebody somewhere always wanted power over others regardless of the class and social status of the group. So, perhaps people were not so very different after all.
"This is the new governess, Mr Pearson," the housekeeper said stiffly.
"Is it indeed, Mrs Griffin?" the butler said, turning his head to coolly survey Georgette.
"My name is Miss Georgette Darrington," Georgette said levelly, fully determined to effect a proper introduction rather than simply be introduced as the new governess.
"Very good," the butler said, seemingly a little taken aback. Presumably, he thought himself to be most intimidating, and it very likely worked wonderfully on the rest of the staff. Georgette made a silent promise to herself that it would never, ever work on her. "Well, I am Mr Pearson, the butler."
"How very nice to make your acquaintance, Mr Pearson," Georgette said, suddenly rather keen to give a display of her firm grasp on modern manners.
"Likewise, Miss Darrington."
Georgette awoke early the following morning, just as the sun was beginning to come up. She was not due to meet the Duke of Draycott until ten o'clock, and her breakfast would not be brought up until eight. With a sigh, Georgette closed her eyes and tried with all her might to get back to sleep. She did not want to simply lay there for two hours waiting for something to happen, staring at the four walls of the Spartan little attic room.
In truth, the room was probably a good deal better than those the servants had at their disposal; it was simply that it felt nothing like home. In London, Georgette had enjoyed an extremely large bedroom with all manner of pretty drapery, wall hangings, and rugs. Her bed had been of the four-poster variety with such beautiful fabric hanging in great swathes from its framework that it was a pure joy to wake up in it every day.
As she looked around her room at Draycott Hall, Georgette knew that life would never be the same again. Her bed now was a small affair, half the width of the one she had had at home. It was a very simply designed iron frame with no posts and no beautiful drapery. Despite that, she had found the mattress extraordinarily comfortable; not a thing she had expected.
The room was really rather small indeed, and her bed was pushed tight up against the wall on one side, with a small nightstand on the other. The nightstand was old but well-made from walnut wood. It was clearly something that had once been in use within the hall itself and, having seen better years, had been demoted to servants' furniture.
There was a small wooden stand, presumably to place a wash bowl upon, and a great chest of drawers of similar quality to the walnut nightstand but constructed of a dark oak. It was in perfect condition but was rather too large for the room, and its dark colour, coupled with the fact that all of the walls were painted in a seemingly miserable shade of green which reminded her of the attorney's office, made the whole thing seem very dark and cramped.
In the far corner of the room was a small table with a solitary wooden chair beside it. This would presumably be where she took her meals. Georgette let out a sigh; it looked so very lonely.
There was a door leading to a small closet area which was just large enough for her to walk into and hang her gowns. The very moment she had been left alone in her room, Georgette had hastily unpacked her gowns and hung them for fear of creases that would never come out. Still, she had packed very carefully and was pleased to note that all of her gowns looked crisp and in good order.
The only saving grace in the tiny room was an immense window which, when the heavy drapes were pulled back, allowed the early morning sunshine in. Georgette rather thought that it was the only thing which stopped the room feeling like a dark and dingy little coffin, and she quite wondered how she would manage in the winter when every day began in darkness.
Still, she would not think of that, for the sun was shining, and she knew she must take from life whatever small pleasures it offered, even if the only pleasure was early morning sunlight.
When Georgette had finally been taken to her small attic room the day before, she had not realized that she would be left there until the following day. She had been shown around the entire servants' area by the butler, Mr Pearson, who had been taciturn one moment and pompous the next. Georgette could not help feeling that the man had continually tried to prove a point to her throughout their entire encounter.
In truth, Georgette had been rather interested and somewhat amazed by the sheer size of the working area below stairs. The butler had seen fit to show her every bit of it, coal stores included.
"Obviously, you have seen my office. And here, as you can see, is the housekeeper's room. If you need to speak to anybody below stairs, it is to Mrs Griffin that you must first attend. Only come to my office if you cannot find Mrs Griffin." As they moved from place to place, Georgette was struck by the very determined straight-backed walk of the butler. He held his head so high that it almost tipped backwards, giving the impression that he was looking up towards the ceiling.
"Yes, of course," Georgette said, not for the first time.
Georgette had very much decided not to engage with the butler. She would not pander to his devastatingly large ego by asking him any questions. She would simply make a very good mental note of everything she discovered in case she did, indeed, ever need to go below stairs for anything. Still, quite why she would need to know where the larder and meat safe was, not to mention the coal stores and chicken sheds, was quite beyond her.
"And here you see the butler's pantry," he said with something of a flourish. "It simply contains all of the serving equipment that is required to run a fine establishment such as Draycott Hall." He held out an arm to indicate that she should go into the room and look around.
In truth, Georgette had never seen such an array of serving platters, cutlery, and crockery. There was every conceivable item required to serve any manner of meal. And yet, despite her interest, Georgette still could not see quite why the butler would be so keen for her to see it all.
"It truly is very well-stocked indeed," Georgette said, for want of any other conversation to make.
"Yes, but then this is the largest estate for many counties across," he said as if her comment had been quite stupid. Georgette chose not to respond.
"And this through here," he said, striding down a somewhat wider corridor and pushing open the door into another room, "is the servants' hall."
Georgette, following close behind, was truly amazed at the size of the servants' hall. There were several long tables in the room, all neatly lined up like trestle tables at a county fair. Of course, the room would need to be large to accommodate meals for the alleged fifty members of staff.
"This is where the servants take their meals and any other small breaks they are allotted," he said, his tone rather pompous once again. "Of course, you shall not be taking your meals in here. As is proper, your meals shall be sent to your room, and you shall dine alone."
Georgette immediately recognized that his words were intended to hurt. He had taken something which might well have been expected to be a compliment of sorts, the fact that she would not be dining with the servants, and he had twisted it to place full emphasis upon the fact that Georgette would have no friends amongst the staff.
His keenness to inform her of the fact in their first meeting gave her the dullest, emptiest feeling in her stomach. It felt almost like the dull and gentle pain of missing a meal and finding oneself really rather hungry. And yet, at that moment, she knew she could not have eaten a thing. What a spiteful man he was.
"And the children?" Georgette said and immediately wished she had not.
She knew that she had given the butler the upper hand by letting him know that she did not relish the idea of isolation.
"They shall eat with the nurse, obviously. They do not take meals with His Grace." Again, he spoke to her in a manner which suggested he thought her entirely stupid.
"Indeed," Georgette said flatly and turned to walk out of the servants' hall.
"Down here," the butler said, hurrying to overtake her, clearly wrong-footed by the fact that he had been forced to follow her and not the other way around. "At the very end of this particular corridor, you will find the servants' quarters. Most of the servants sleep down here with just a few in attic rooms. Of course, the ones who do sleep in attic rooms are on the east side of the building, whereas you yourself shall be on the west."
"Of course," Georgette said, choosing not to rise to his provocation any more.
So, she would be eating alone, sitting alone night after night in an attic room set far apart from any others and devoid of any human contact save for that of her small charges and possibly the nurse. Well, it was simply something that she would have to get used to and, if she could not, then the butler would be the very last person to hear about it.
"So, now that you know where everything is, I shall return to my own duties and leave you to make your way to the housekeeper's room for further instruction," he said and, with a curt nod, turned to stride away from her.
For a moment, Georgette's heart began to thud. She had wanted to tell the pompous Mr Pearson that she had absolutely no idea how to find her way back to the housekeeper's room. Her tour of below stairs had been speedy and very far from methodical, an approach which she felt to have been entirely purposeful.
Clearly, the butler had wanted to make a fool of her. He had wanted her to run after him and admit that she could not quite remember where the housekeeper's room was. Well, he would have a long wait if he thought that that was going to happen. Taking a deep breath and, not the first time that day, straightening her spine, Georgette strode back along the corridor in the hope that she would very soon recognize the door to the housekeeper's room. Of course, to her, all of the doors looked the same.
After just a few minutes, Georgette's resolve had dissipated entirely. She seemed to continually pass maids and smartly dressed male servants, all of whom kept their eyes focused firmly on the gray flagstones as they passed her. Not one of them would look in her direction, not even to nod a silent greeting.
Finally, she saw the smartly liveried uniform of the footman who had helped to carry in her large wooden trunk. Feeling a little relieved, she smiled and approached him.
"Would you be so kind as to show me where the housekeeper's room is?" Georgette said as he regarded her coolly.
"It is that way," he said with the vaguest nod of his head before turning and walking away.
None the wiser, Georgette let out a great sigh. What a hateful household this was. Did not one of them below stairs have the presence of mind to act on their own accord and not simply be spiteful upon demand?
Well, if that were as much as she could expect from her fellow employees, Georgette would be pleased to eat alone and have nothing to do with them. Feeling antagonized made her feel suddenly purposeful also, and she began to stride through the corridors, pushing doors open and looking inside without a moment's apology to whomever she found within.
Finally, using just such an approach, she located the housekeeper's room.
"Mrs Griffin, Mr Pearson has sent me back to you," Georgette said with a level voice.
"Yes, I am to take you now to your room," Mrs Griffin said, rising to her feet and moving around the desk she had been sitting at as if she had been seemingly looking at receipts.
"Thank you," Georgette said, keen to keep any hint of attempted friendliness out of her voice.
The servants' staircase was located quite centrally, and one was able to go from the basement to the attics without happening upon a member of the household. It was with some relief that Georgette realized that the route from the top of the servants' staircase to her own little room in the attic was a very simple one, and it went some way to giving her a sense of having her bearings if only just a little.
"This is your room," Mrs Griffin said, pushing the door open and allowing Georgette to enter first.
"How lovely," Georgette said, again giving nothing away in her tone.
"Well, at least you do not have to share as many of the servants do." The tone of Mrs Griffin's voice led Georgette to very much realize that the servants' rooms, and possibly Mrs Griffin's room itself, were very much inferior to the one that she would inhabit.
"Quite so."
"I think you have everything you need here," Mrs Griffin said, clearly a little upended by Georgette's very short and succinct response. "And through that door, there is a small hanging closet for your gowns," she said, and then looked significantly at the large wooden trunk.
No doubt she thought that the new governess had far too many personal possessions. Still, that was something that Mrs Griffin would have to come to terms with without any input from Georgette. Not one hour into her new employment, and already Georgette was entirely tired of everybody she had so far met at Draycott Hall.
"It would be as well if you simply stayed in your room for the rest of the day, Miss Darrington."
"Why?" Georgette asked coolly.
"Because you are not due to meet His Grace until ten o'clock tomorrow. Dinner will soon be served and, since you are taking yours in your room, then you might just as well be here to receive it."
"Once your dinner things are taken, there really is nothing left for you to do today."
"And who is to take me to His Grace tomorrow?"
"I shall be taking you."
"And shall you be collecting me from here or should I make my way downstairs?"
"There shall be no need for you to leave your room until I collect you. A jug of warm water and a bowl will be left on the small table outside your room at seven o'clock. At eight o'clock, your breakfast will be left on that table and the jug collected. And a few minutes before ten o'clock, I shall come to collect you."
"Thank you," Georgette said, feeling a little trapped by the idea that she would be keeping to her room the rest of the afternoon, through the night, and into the next morning.
"I am sure that Mr Pearson has told you that there are no other members of staff sleeping in this part of the attic. They are quite on the other side of the house. However, His Grace inhabits rooms below this part of the attic, and so you would be advised to tread very carefully. He is not keen to hear noise and would certainly be most disappointed to hear anything at all coming from your room. Please take care not to make too much noise."
"Yes, of course," Georgette said, looking at the woman incredulously. Quite what noise she thought Georgette might make in the middle of the night was beyond her.
"Well, I shall leave you. Dinner will be served in about two hours." And with that, Mrs Griffin turned on her heel and strode away, leaving Georgette entirely alone.
Georgette simply lay in her bed, the events of the day before turning over and over in her mind until she heard a sound outside her door. There was a very definite clunk as a porcelain bowl and water-filled jug was set down on the small table in the corridor outside her room. Looking at the clock on the wall, Georgette could see that it was seven o'clock precisely.
Waiting until she heard the gentle footsteps disappearing, Georgette rose from her bed, stretched, and walked noiselessly across the room to the door.
Just as she had expected, the jug and bowl were on the table, and she lifted them and carried them into the room. Placing them down onto the nightstand, she lifted the jug and tipped the water fully out into the porcelain bowl.
Georgette hastily removed her nightgown and, reaching for one of the washcloths that she had unpacked from her trunk, plunged it into the water. She gasped and drew her hand out sharply, dropping the sodden cloth onto the floor. The water was absolutely stone cold. For a moment, Georgette simply stared down into the bowl in a haze of confusion. It was not possible that warm water would have cooled completely in the rather simple journey from below stairs to her own room in the attic.
Of course, Georgette knew well that the water had never been warmed at all. She had been given cold water with which to wash, and it was certainly no oversight. The whole thing had been quite purposeful.
Knowing that she had never been treated so unfairly in all her life, Georgette felt sudden tears stinging her eyes. Had she not already suffered enough that she also needed to put up with the spite of the servants?
Taking a deep breath and blinking hard, Georgette resolved that she would not allow such vile and childish behaviour to reduce her to weeping. Instead, she crouched down to retrieve the sodden washcloth on the floor and, plunging it back into the bowl, she set about washing herself thoroughly with the uncomfortably cold water. No wonder the three previous governesses had left this place.
With her cold and uncomfortable ablutions complete, Georgette got herself dressed. Even though she always had access to a maid in her father's house, she had not always chosen to use one in dressing and undressing unless she was getting ready for a social engagement and wanted to look her best. She thought now what a good thing that was, for she did not instantly recognize the loss whilst getting herself ready.
Georgette walked into the small closet and chose a medium weight gown in a very dark blue. It was a simple gown and rather plain and, Georgette thought, perfectly suitable for a governess. It had long sleeves with a very narrow frill of white lace about the cuffs. The neckline was a little square and also had the same frill of simple white lace. There were three small buttons running from the neckline to the empire line just beneath the bust. There was a band of satin, just an inch wide, around the empire line. The gown fell almost to the floor, not quite long enough to be impractical.
All in all, Georgette felt smartly turned out without any leanings towards ostentation. She simply wanted to feel comfortable in the knowledge that she had chosen well for her first meeting with the Duke.
Georgette wound her thick chestnut hair and fastened it securely at the back of her head. Fortunately, she had brought a small glass with her, as there was none in her room with which to look at her reflection. It was only a few inches across, but enough for her to check that her glossy hair was neat and tidy. It rather struck her that the deprivations of the governess seemed to be growing by the hour.
Just before eight o'clock, Georgette returned the used jug and bowl to the table outside her room and then sat on her bed to await breakfast. She left the door a little ajar so that she might hear whoever would approach with her breakfast tray.
The moment she heard the merest sound of footsteps on the wooden floorboards, she jumped to her feet and darted across the room. Standing in the open doorway, she watched as a young maid, clad in an austere black gown and crisp white apron, approached holding the tray.
"Good morning," Georgette said brightly.
The woman was very young indeed, at perhaps seventeen years, and Georgette wondered if it was the same maid who had delivered the cold water for her to wash in.
The maid, who had not seen Georgette standing in the doorway, looked up sharply, somewhat startled by the cheery greeting.
"Good morning, Miss Darrington," she said in a quiet voice, a shy smile on her face as she gently laid the laden breakfast tray down on the table next to the jug and bowl.
"That looks wonderful, thank you," Georgette said, looking down at a breakfast which consisted of tea, toast, butter, and pound cake.
"You are welcome, Miss Darrington," the maid said and looked as if she was not sure if she should curtsy.
"I thank you kindly much for my jug and bowl this morning," Georgette said, hedging her bets. When she saw the girl blush, she knew she had hit her mark.
"Yes, Miss Darrington." The girl was scarlet, and she cast her eyes downwards.
At that moment, Georgette felt very sorry for the maid. She was so young that it was highly unlikely that to bring the new governess cold water with which to wash was her idea at all. Rather, Georgette assumed that the young woman had been given very little choice in the matter and that she had been instructed in what she must do.
"It woke me up nicely," Georgette said brightly, suddenly keen to ease the poor young woman's conscience.
"I am very sorry," the girl mumbled, her face still terribly flushed.
"Please do not make yourself uneasy. I am perfectly well aware that you would have been given no say in the thing. I do not blame you, and I should like you to know that."
"I tried to sneak in some warm water, Miss, but I could not do so without being seen."
"Please, do not find yourself in trouble over something so simple. Others are at fault, and not you. And I shall say nothing of it and make no complaint whatsoever. Mrs Griffin must have her fun, after all." Once again, Georgette was hedging her bets.
"She might soften, Miss," the girl said, finally raising her eyes to meet Georgette's own. "If you do not say anything, she might grow bored of it."
"Then I shall take your advice, my dear," Georgette said and nodded reassuringly. From the girl's words, she rather gathered that the previous governesses must have complained immediately. If that were what the sour-faced housekeeper was looking for, Georgette would not give her such joy. "Tell me, what is your name?"
"Daisy, Miss."
"Well, thank you kindly, Daisy. And please be assured that I shall say nothing of our conversation. I should not like to do anything which would see you in trouble with Mrs Griffin or Mr Pearson."
"Thank you, Miss Darrington." The girl looked behind her suddenly, almost as if she expected someone to be behind her. "Begging your pardon, Miss Darrington, but Mrs Griffin will be cross with me if I do not soon return."
"Oh yes, of course," Georgette said and reached for the tray. "And thank you again, Daisy. You have been most kind."
Daisy nodded politely and smiled, her sweet little face so very pretty, before turning to hurry away back towards the servants' staircase.
Georgette carried her tray into her room and set it down on the table. Pulling out her chair, she sat down and, first of all, poured herself a cup of tea. Leaning back in her chair, Georgette stared out of the large window at the blue and cloudless sky. Just a few moments of conversation with Daisy had done much to cheer her. There was little doubt that Mrs Griffin and Mr Pearson were her enemies, but perhaps it was not true to say that all of the servants felt the same way. They were simply afraid of the housekeeper and butler, both of whom could easily make trouble for a servant at the lower end of things.
Still, she could not help thinking of the liveried footman and his rough manners. To her, it had seemed very much meant. Of course, the footman was just a little below the butler and housekeeper in the servants' hierarchy. Perhaps it was simply those nearer the top of their own little world who objected to the curiously ambiguous status attached to the role of governess. In truth, she would not be paid a great deal more than they, but she had a background that they did not. It was that, more than anything that they likely despised her for.
However, Georgette decided that she would not allow the actions of the somewhat more aggressive servants to bother her. She would simply place her energies elsewhere and make more effort with the young maids in the hope of, if nothing else, having two or three minutes of friendly conversation every day.
Georgette lightly buttered one slice of toast and chewed at it thoughtfully. She was nervous at the idea of meeting the Duke that morning and wondered quite what his behaviour would be like. Perhaps it was rather the behaviour of the servants which had upended the three previous governesses, rather than that of the Duke himself.
And yet, Georgette thought back to her conversation with Shelford Winstanley. Had he himself not said that the Duke had an intimidating manner and little interest in solving whatever problems the governess might have? By problems, he had presumably meant the poor behaviour of the butler and housekeeper. Well, Georgette would see to it that she never looked to the man for any assistance in that regard.
With her toast finished, Georgette took a bite of the pound cake and found it to be truly delicious. The cook was obviously very talented and a slice of her cake something that could not be somehow made worse by Mrs Griffin's direction.
With her breakfast finished by half past eight, Georgette had been about to return the tray to the table outside when she heard rather fast and pronounced footsteps clipping along the floorboards towards her room. Deciding this time that she would not hover in the doorway, Georgette simply kept to her seat, annoyed to find that she was a little fearful of whomever it was approaching.
It was certainly no maid with such a determined tread. When the footsteps came to a halt directly outside her door, Georgette felt that she had suddenly braced herself. When the knock came, it was rather purposefully loud.
"Come in," Georgette said, choosing not to rise from her seat at the little table.
"Good morning, Miss Darrington." Mrs Griffin strode in with a sour look on her face. Her skin was rather a yellow-grey colour and was as pale and sallow as her dress was austerely dark.
"Good morning, Mrs Griffin. You are rather early, are you not?" Georgette was careful to keep her tone neutral. She wanted to appear neither friendly nor antagonistic.
"Yes, there has been a change of plan."
"Oh yes?" Georgette, still sitting at the table, looked up at the housekeeper.
"You are first to meet the nurse and your new charges."
"At ten o'clock when I was supposed to be meeting the Duke?" Georgette said, ostensibly seeking clarification.
"No, you are still to meet His Grace at ten o'clock, as initially arranged."
"And when am I to meet the nurse and my new charges?" Georgette said, proud that she was able to keep her voice steady in the face of such open animosity.
"You are to meet them immediately. The nurse has made them ready early this morning, and they are awaiting you in the schoolroom."
"Are the children ordinarily in the schoolroom by half past eight in the morning, Mrs Griffin?"
"No. Mrs Wells, their nurse, has made them ready early this morning so that they might meet you."
"So, presumably this particular plan was well-known yesterday?" Georgette said, feeling her annoyance begin to rise.
It was clear to her that when the housekeeper had left her yesterday afternoon, she had been perfectly well aware that she would be returning at half past eight the following morning and not just before ten o'clock as she had intimated. It was another little act clearly designed to make Georgette nervous and flustered and rather harried by the time she was taken before her new employer. It was a little act which had clearly been decided between the housekeeper and the nurse rather than something that the Duke had decreed.
"I beg your pardon, Miss Darrington?" The housekeeper looked a little unsettled, and her face very much suggested one who had been found out.
"It matters not, for I am ready in any case," Georgette said, deciding that she would not continue the argument any further.
After all, she had no need. As far as Georgette was concerned, her point had been made without any fuss. She would meet the nurse and the children and remain calm for the planned visit to the Duke. If the housekeeper had been told to have her there by ten o'clock, then Georgette knew that she would arrive on time. After all, if they arrived late to the Duke, it would undoubtedly be the housekeeper herself who was in hot water with their master, and not Georgette.
Georgette rose to her feet and, calmly walking past Mrs Griffin, took her breakfast tray out and laid it on the table in the corridor. She returned to the room and gave the housekeeper a watery smile.
"Well, I am ready when you are, Mrs Griffin."
"Right," Mrs Griffin said, clearly disappointed not to have caused great consternation in the heart of the newest member of the household. "If you would care to follow me, I shall take you directly to the schoolroom."
"How very kind, Mrs Griffin," Georgette responded without a hint of warmth in her tone.
Georgette had been careful to make an absolute note of every turn they took on their way to the schoolroom. She would not leave herself in the position of having to ask for directions ever again.
The schoolroom, when they reached it, was really rather delightful. It was a much bigger room than Georgette had been expecting, and she could imagine herself quite content to spend her days in it. It was painted in a very pale lemon yellow with every piece of skirting and door and window frame painted white. The drapes were rather golden and in a light brocade fabric which did not detract from the light and bright feel of the room whatsoever.
The windows were numerous and gave out onto the rear of the great mansion, onto grounds which were as spectacular at the back as they were at the front. What made the view even better was the fact that Georgette could see clear across to the hills and the woodlands, some near, some distant. It was quite breathtaking, and she thought it a view that she would never tire of looking at, even though she thought herself quite a determined town dweller.
In the very center of the windows was a great glazed double door, leading straight out onto a small flagstoned area. At that time of year, Georgette thought the arrangement a most perfect one and already had it in mind to take the children outside for a portion of the day to learn a little about nature and to keep them alert.
The schoolroom itself did not contain little desks for the children, but rather one great table at which the governess and her pupils were expected to sit together. The very fact was highlighted by the sight of a woman she presumed to be the nurse and two small and very fair-haired little girls who were already sitting at it. The nurse did not look up when they entered but continued with some seemingly clumsy attempt at some sort of lesson with the children.
Having already prepared herself for a certain amount of rudeness, Georgette looked away from the table and surveyed the rest of the room. There was a large stone fireplace, larger even than the greatest of the fireplaces in her father's home in London. The iron grate was truly enormous and was set, although it had not been lit. In truth, with the sun full up, the day was unlikely to find itself cold enough to need a fire.
On either side of the great fireplace were two high-backed armchairs, each covered in the same golden brocade as the drapes had been made from. There was a low and rather ornate little oak table between the two chairs, seemingly ideal for the placement of a tea tray.
A little further back from the chairs was a small couch which looked neat and just a little uncomfortable in a very pale blue velvet. All in all, the little seating area around the fire was very pleasing to Georgette, and she fully determined to make the little schoolroom her very own. After all, now that she was there to teach the children, there would be no need for the sort of clumsy lesson that their nurse was currently giving them, and therefore no need for the nurse to be present.
Also in the room was a large piano, positioned just under the windows for maximum light. Georgette smiled as she looked at it and remembered her own governess as a child teaching her how to navigate what seemed to her then to be giant keys. In truth, she rather looked forward to the idea of teaching a little musical accomplishment to the children.
"You must concentrate, both of you." The nurse had rather a deep voice, something akin to a man's. "Eleri, please read the word I have written there," Mrs Wells said, sounding rather agitated.
Since Georgette and Mrs Griffin had entered the room, the nurse had, quite unsuccessfully, attempted to get the child called Eleri to read the word. Again, she was greeted with silence.
Georgette turned her attention to the table and the little scene which had obviously been set up for her benefit. No doubt it had been meant to show her that the services of the governess were not required since the nurse had everything working like clockwork. However, the plan likely had not been made to cover the fact that the children had not been taught properly and to simply write a word, thrust it beneath the child's nose, and expect them to know it was hardly a constructive lesson. Georgette bit back a smirk of amusement.
"Read it," the nurse said, clearly feeling a little foolish and taking the whole thing out on the child.
"I cannot read it, Mrs Wells, for I do not know what it says," the little girl responded in a surprisingly clear voice, despite the tremor it held.
Not only was the little voice quite clear, but the accent was not English. Georgette had heard the wonderfully lyrical tones of a Welsh accent before now in London, many times, in fact, but never from such a small child. It sounded truly beautiful to Georgette, and she smiled as she looked at the little girl.
"Eleri, I have already shown you a picture of a horse. You knew what that was," the nurse said, her tone quite unforgiving. "Now I am showing you a word. Is it not obvious that the word I am showing you is horse?"
"No, Mrs Wells," came the beautiful little Welsh voice.
"Well, you look long and hard at that word, my girl, because it says horse. Now you remember that; you learn it so that you know it in future."
Georgette had to bite her tongue for fear of exclaiming aloud. Whatever system of learning was the dreadful nurse hoping to show off?
"Good morning," Georgette said, keen to be ignored no longer and certain that she wanted to put an end to the little girl's misery. "Forgive me for interrupting your lesson, Mrs Wells, but Mrs Griffin rather told me that you were expecting me."
"Yes," the older woman said, scowling for all she was worth.
In truth, she had made a fool of herself with her pathetic attempt at undermining the governess before she had even started, and it was clear to Georgette that the woman knew it.
"Tell me, have you been long without a governess? I see that you yourself are helping to teach the children." Georgette smiled as she spoke, keen to give the impression that she was simply interested.
"It has been some weeks since the last one left," the nurse said, her face a picture of disdain.
The nurse looked to Georgette to be well into her fiftieth year, if not beyond. She was rather a large sort of a woman, with broad shoulders and big hands and eyebrows which, quite disconcertingly, seemed almost to meet in the middle. The eyebrows gave her the impression of perpetually scowling, and Georgette could not help thinking that her very countenance must frighten the children.
"Oh dear, that must have been a sore trial to you, Mrs Wells."
"It certainly was. I am only supposed to work with the children at mealtimes and getting them into and out of bed. Since the last governess left, it has been down to me to spend all day with them also." Mrs Wells seemed entirely put out by that.
Georgette could not help being perplexed by the curious behaviour of the upper-level servants in the house. It would appear that Mrs Wells was to be no different. While she resented the fact that she had been forced to work all day, instead of her rather more comfortable hours as nurse, still she was keen to point out that the services of the governess were not needed. Were all of the servants this contrary, Georgette wondered, or was it simply a little handful at the top?
"Then you must be pleased to relinquish the extra duties which have been dropped upon you, are you not?" Georgette said, rather painting the woman into a corner.
"Well yes, of course," Mrs Wells said, quickly realizing that the new governess had blown their little plan clean out of the water.
After all, she could not one moment complain about her working hours and, in the next, complain that somebody had come to relieve her of such hours. Perhaps Mrs Wells had made enough of a fool of herself that morning and did not wish to continue to dig the hole she had begun to make for herself.
Georgette could sense Mrs Griffin stiffening at her side and turned to look at her, another frozen smile on her face.
"And I must say, this is a rather wonderful little schoolroom, Mrs Griffin. I think I shall like it here." Georgette held the housekeeper's gaze and saw the annoyance there. Still, she would not look away.
"That is what they all say," Mrs Griffin said, entirely abandoning the last vestiges of good manners.
"Is it really?" Georgette said, her voice determinedly incredulous. "How very curious that every governess who walks into this room says precisely the same thing." Georgette shook her head to indicate that she thought the housekeeper's words entirely without merit.
In truth, she wondered if she was doing the right thing or if she was simply needlessly antagonizing a woman who could make life very difficult for her. However, Georgette rather thought that the housekeeper and her little group had already fully determined to make life difficult for the new governess, and she thought that there would be little reward in seeking to ingratiate herself. In truth, ingratiating herself would simply have come as painful to her.
"Well, since I have now met Mrs Wells, perhaps it is time for me to meet the children. After all, is that not the purpose of our early morning visit?" Georgette continued to hold the housekeeper's gaze.
When the housekeeper did not speak, and the nurse shuffled awkwardly in her seat, Georgette simply made her way over to the table. Taking one of the seats opposite the little girls, she sat down and smiled at them broadly.
"So, I already know that your name is Eleri," Georgette said, reaching out to touch the little girl's hand. "But I do not yet know your name." With her other hand, she reached out to touch the other little girl.
"My name is Ffion, Miss," the little girl said in a much quieter voice than her sister's.
"What beautiful names you have." Georgette continued to smile at the girls, feeling a little sad that they both appeared so very wary of her. "And I am Miss Darrington."
The girls did not speak but merely continued to regard her with suspicion.
"And I can tell from your names and your lovely accents that you both come from Wales," she went on when the silence seemed to have opened up just a little too much.
"Yes, Miss Darrington," Eleri said, and Georgette noted that both girls seemed pleased by her observation.
"Yes, we are," Ffion added, just a little after her sister.
"And what part of Wales do you come from?" Georgette looked at them with a great show of interest which both girls visibly responded to.
"His Grace doesn't encourage this," Mrs Wells said and sniffed loudly in disapproval.
Georgette, annoyed by the intrusion, simply looked at Mrs Wells and smiled before turning her attention back to the girls. She could see that they were, once again, unsure of themselves and rather more unsure of their governess. Well, Georgette would not stand for such interference from a woman who thrust a piece of paper with the word horse written crudely upon it in front of a small child, expecting them to learn from it.
"Are you from the north or the south of Wales?" Georgette went on, ignoring the rather unpleasant sound of the large nurse clearing her throat in annoyance.
"We are from the north, Miss Darrington," Eleri said, keeping her eyes averted from the imposing figure of Mrs Wells.
"And what is the name of the place you are from?" Georgette looked at both girls but felt sure that Eleri would be the one to answer.
It was clear that Eleri was the protector and tiny spokesperson for the twins, and Georgette knew that she would have to give Ffion a great deal of attention to draw her out a little more.
"Beddgelert, Miss Darrington."
"Bethgellet?" Georgette said, trying to imitate the pronunciation.
"Yes, Miss Darrington," Eleri said, and both little girls looked amused.
"I have not said it quite right, have I?" Georgette said, smiling broadly at them.
"Nearly, Miss Darrington. It sounds funny when you say it," Eleri went on, whilst Ffion smiled but essentially remained silent.
"Well, it is a good thing that I have you both here so that you can help me to say Welsh words properly," Georgette said. "We shall be able to teach each other, shall we not?"
"The master will not be happy about that," Mrs Wells went on, quite determined. "He does not want Welsh spoken in this house, nor place names talked of. He is quite determined in it." Mrs Wells sat back in her seat with an air of one who was entirely satisfied with herself.
"Bethgelert?" Georgette said, trying again and ignoring the children's nurse entirely.
"That is right, Miss Darrington," Eleri said, mightily impressed.
"Yes," Ffion said simply but with a certain amount of determination.
"Well now, I have learned something already," Georgette said with a smile.
"But perhaps not everything that you are being taught," Mrs Griffin said, her voice coming out in rather a hiss.
"Perhaps I ought to deal with matters of the children's education, Miss Griffin, and leave you to the no doubt arduous tasks of the housekeeper," Georgette said, suddenly serious. "And perhaps any other such concerns you might have could be made to me outside of the children's presence. After all, I am sure that none of us here would wish to upset Eleri and Ffion in any way, would we?" Georgette raised her eyebrows at the housekeeper and then turned to look directly at the nurse. "Would we?" she said again, her tone full of authority.
"Well, it is perhaps best we leave the schoolroom for it is almost time for you to meet His Grace," the housekeeper said, quite determined not to give in to Georgette.
However, Georgette had expected nothing less and no longer feared antagonizing the woman. Obviously, her presence was enough to antagonize the sour-faced housekeeper and her rotund compadre.
"Yes, of course," Georgette said, regaining her tone of neutrality. "Well, girls, it really has been a pleasure to meet you both, and I am very much looking forward to the time that we are going to spend together." She turned to look at the girls and smiled at them encouragingly.
Georgette was pleased to see the two little faces brighten when she looked at them and knew that she had a way of getting into the hearts of the little girls after all.
"Well, it has been a pleasure to meet you, Mrs Wells," Georgette said with a tight smile and little feeling. "If you will excuse me, Mrs Griffin tells me it is time to meet the Duke."
"Of course," the nurse said, the displeasure on her face telling Georgette most distinctly that the whole thing was not over.
Georgette was surprised to discover that the Duke's study was on the very same corridor as the schoolroom, just a few doors away. The housekeeper had chosen to speak not one word throughout their short walk and, when they came to a halt outside the door to the study, Mrs Griffin simply folded her arms across her chest and stared at the door frame.
"Are we not going inside?" Georgette said, becoming somewhat exasperated with the older woman's childish behaviour.
"It is not yet ten o'clock. It is only ten minutes to the hour."
"Then why did we leave the schoolroom?" Georgette said, not entirely confrontational, but neither was she in the mood to placate the woman.
"Because His Grace insists upon punctuality," she said and looked away from her again to resume her study of the door frame.
Georgette decided to refrain from telling the woman that they were not punctual, they were simply early. She could not help thinking that for them to simply stand uselessly outside the Duke's study door for the next ten minutes seemed entirely pointless. However, Georgette rather wondered if she had not pushed the woman quite far enough for one day and, in the end, kept her thoughts to herself.
When they had stood awkwardly for more than five minutes, the door to the Duke's study suddenly flew open, and a well-dressed and rather thin man of middle age walked out. He held his head so very high and stood so very straight-backed that Georgette was curiously reminded of Mr Pearson, the butler. However, his clothes were quite different altogether, more or less those of a gentleman. For a moment, she wondered if it were the Duke himself. However, he simply looked her up and down, vaguely nodded at the housekeeper, and strode away.
Georgette looked at Mrs Griffin and raised her eyebrows in silent question.
"Mr Edward Camden," Mrs Griffin said when Georgette continued to stare at her, determined for an answer. "The Duke's steward."
"Oh," Georgette said airily and wondered if there was a single person, besides Daisy, in all of Draycott Hall who had five minutes' worth of manners within them.
After all, if his staff were anything to go by, the Duke himself must be simply dreadful.
As they continued to stand there, Georgette rather thought that Mrs Griffin was suddenly a little nervous. She seemed to be leaning forward a little as if straining to hear, and Georgette wondered quite why it was that she did not merely knock on the door.
When she heard the chiming of a clock drifting out in a rather muffled way through the heavy wooden door, Georgette was entirely surprised to see the housekeeper suddenly straighten up and reach out to knock the door. For heaven's sake, did that not take punctuality just a little beyond ordinary expectation?
"Enter," came a rather deep voice from within and, once again, Georgette was reminded of the pompous butler. Quite clearly, the dreadful man had modeled himself on an amalgam of his betters.
"Your Grace," Mrs Griffin said in simpering tones as she took two steps into the study and curtsied.
Georgette simply followed her in and mutely curtsied in the same fashion. "I have brought the new governess to see you," Mrs Griffin said, and Georgette almost winced to hear how she was going to be introduced. After all, did she not have a name?
"Yes, of course," the Duke said, looking up as if he had quite forgotten the whole thing and now found himself running short of time and greatly exasperated by their sudden appearance. "You may leave us, Mrs Griffin," he said, without even looking at the woman.
Georgette watched out of the corner of her eye with some amusement as Mrs Griffin curtsied rather deeply once again and seemed to leave the room backward, almost as if the Duke of Draycott were, in fact, the King, and she dare not turn her back on him.
"Well, yes …" The Duke said, squinting at her and suddenly somewhat displeased. "Miss …" He seemed entirely wrong-footed by her appearance.
"Miss Darrington, Your Grace," Georgette supplied helpfully.
"Oh yes, of course," he said in an offhand manner which rather suggested that her name was neither here nor there, for he did not need or intend to commit it to memory. "And you arrived yesterday, did you not?" he said as if he was giving himself a moment or two to think.
"Indeed, I did, Your Grace. I arrived yesterday afternoon," Georgette said and found his habit of not specifically looking at her as he spoke somewhat annoying. However, he was a Duke, and he could likely do just as he pleased.
As the Duke made some little performance of shuffling papers on his desk, Georgette made a quick study of the room. In truth, the study itself was not very much larger than the one that her father had maintained back in their Mayfair townhouse. But perhaps a study, unlike a drawing room, did not need to be proportionate to the size of the house. After all, it was the room of just one person with very few guests, saving attorneys and stewards and other such similar people, expected to attend it.
Had the room not been quite so filled with cabinets and dark shelves and a great number of ledgers and such the like, it might well have appeared as light and bright as the schoolroom. It had been painted in a very similar way although, whereas the schoolroom was a pale lemon, the Duke's study was an extremely pale blue, rather like the sky in winter. It rather struck her as a curious colour for the Duke to have in his study, for most studies she had been in were really rather masculine affairs, with dark paintwork and heavy drapery, giving the whole thing the appearance of a cave or a large box.
However, the careful paintwork had done much to spare the room such a fate and the two immense windows did much to stop the dark woodwork and cluttered shelves from drawing the light from their surroundings.
The desk which the Duke sat behind was an extraordinarily heavy looking affair made of dark oak, and the papers upon it seemed to be in a measure of disarray. Georgette, being rather an orderly sort of woman herself, could not help letting her eyes settle upon the little mess.
"You come to me without references, Miss Darrington," the Duke said so suddenly that Georgette looked sharply up from her study of his desk.
"That is correct, Your Grace. I have no references."
"You have never worked as a governess before?"
"I have never worked as anything before, Your Grace."
"But you have decided to become a governess?"
"I had no choice in the matter, Your Grace, but I have an extensive education and am confident that I can teach the children their essential learning and a number of accomplishments."
"Indeed," he said, giving no hint whatsoever with his tone whether he was pleased or displeased.
When he remained silent, Georgette decided to do the same. She was feeling suddenly rather nervous and could not help remembering Mr Shelford Winstanley's description of the Duke as intimidating. Even in silence, she thought he was quite that.
Georgette dared to take another peek at the man and realized that he was not looking at her at all. Rather, he was looking down at the paperwork on his desk once more, sitting quietly and almost immobile, and she wondered if he were about to dismiss her from the room.
However, she took the opportunity to study him a little more closely and could see that Hamilton Whitehall was a good deal older than she was herself. He was, she thought, perhaps four and thirty years, if not a little more. Nonetheless, he looked really rather well for his age, with broad shoulders and an upright sort of bearing. Despite the fact he was still sitting behind his desk, Georgette rather thought that he would, when standing, be something of a very tall man.
His tailcoat and waistcoat, all that she could see of his apparel from behind the desk, were in a matching shade of dark blue, almost identical to that of her own gown. His shirt was immaculately white and its necktie curiously plain, although smart.
The Duke had rather a thick head of hair in a very light brown which tended to blond at the temples. Georgette wondered if it was the sort of hair which became fairer the brighter the sun shone. His eyes were bright, rather a piercing sort of a blue and, when he did deign to look at her and even hold her gaze, they made her feel a little uneasy.
His face had rather strong features, and a mouth that would likely be pleasingly generous if he did but smile. His skin was a little tanned and had a certain roughness which suggested that he could not last more than a day without shaving and still maintain a certain neatness to his appearance.
"I presume that you are aware that the children have had no less than three governesses in quick succession in the last six months?" Again, he spoke suddenly.
"Yes, Mr Winstanley at the employment registry made me very aware of the fact."
"Does that not concern you at all?"
"In truth, it does concern me a little, Your Grace, but not enough that I would turn the position down."
"Indeed," he said and looked at her rather blankly.
In truth, Georgette was well aware that the Duke was likely deducing that she had found herself in very sudden low circumstances, and he seemed to be regarding her in a most searching fashion. When he had looked at her for almost a full minute, Georgette could not help thinking that he was really rather looking down upon her.
Of course, as a Duke, he might well have looked down upon her before she had been reduced to poverty. And, of course, he might not be looking down upon her at all. It struck her that he was really rather a difficult man to read, and she found herself feeling most decidedly uncomfortable in his company and wished that their meeting would soon draw to its conclusion.
"Miss Darrington, I do not wish to hear tales of the servants or anything concerning the children. They are to be brought up well with good manners and a good education. Beyond that, I do not wish to be bothered with the day-to-day running of their lives, is that understood?" Suddenly, his piercingly bright blue eyes were fixed on her own, and Georgette wondered if she would be able to get a word out. She felt herself suddenly struck mute and yet knew that she must say something.
"That is understood, Your Grace," she said simply, wondering why on earth it was that he had no interest in the day-to-day lives of two adorable little girls.
"I will meet with you here once a week so that you may make a report of your progress to me regarding the educational advancement of the children. There will be no need for you to bring the children with you, obviously."
"Yes, Your Grace," she said, rather thinking that he had something of an aversion to Eleri and Ffion.
"The children's nurse will have them delivered to you at half past nine every morning in the schoolroom. They will already be washed, dressed, and breakfasted. In essence, they shall be ready for their lessons immediately." He stared at her again, and Georgette fought an urge to run from the room.
"Yes, Your Grace," she said, rather willing the whole thing to be at an end.
"You will keep the children throughout the day, including luncheon, which shall be brought to the schoolroom for the three of you and which you will supervise without the aid of the nurse."
"Yes, Your Grace."
"The nurse will, of course, relieve you of the children's care at half-past three in the afternoon. From then onwards, you are free to do as you please unless, of course, there is some social engagement to which the children need to attend outside of those hours. In just such a situation you, rather than their nurse, shall accompany them. In truth, I rather doubt that such a requirement shall occur, but I am simply pointing out your role should that happen."
"I understand, Your Grace."
"On Sundays, you shall attend church with myself and the children. The four of us shall ride in the carriage together and shall sit in the front pew, as is the custom of my family."
"Yes, Your Grace," Georgette said, already worrying about the awkward conversation that would take place inside the carriage when she was alone with him and the children.
"And for the rest of Sunday, you may do as you wish."
"Thank you, Your Grace," Georgette said but was still thinking about church and wondering quite how far away the nearest church was. If only they were in London, then she could be assured that there would be a church within minutes of their current location.
"I think that will be all for now, Miss Darrington. It is likely that I shall not see you between now and church on Sunday, so if you have any questions, I suggest you ask them before we conclude." For all the world, he seemed entirely keen to dismiss her, and Georgette could not help feeling just a little insulted.
"I have no questions, Your Grace," Georgette said truthfully.
"Then I rather think that our business is concluded," he said and suddenly rose from his seat and strode around the desk towards her.
Once he was standing and within feet of her, Georgette realized quite how tall and broad he was and almost gasped. Before he was anywhere near close, he seemed almost to tower over her. She could see that he was wearing immaculately fitting black breeches, and his black knee boots shone to perfection. All in all, she thought she had never seen a man so well-dressed without any hint of ostentation. It was simply that his tailoring struck her as being second to none.
As he continued towards her, Georgette could not help thinking that his very stature was most unlike any aristocrat she had ever met. He did not fall into the category of the customary slim and rather angular aristocrat with the sort of aquiline features which tended to give them the appearance of delicately picking their way through life most disdainfully.
In truth, with a little growth on his chin and different clothing, he would easily pass for a large and rather robust farmhand. For a moment, Georgette thought that she might laugh and held her breath to stave it off.
The Duke finally drew to a halt in front of her and looked down as she looked up.
"Just one more thing, Miss Darrington," he said as Georgette fought the urge to take a step backward away from him. She was not sure if he intended to be intimidating, or if it was simply his size and stature which made him so at that moment. However, it did not stop her wanting to leave.
"Yes, Your Grace?" she said, somewhat proud to hear that her voice remained steady despite his close proximity.
"Perhaps as you go about your day-to-day business of educating the ch

redpajama_set_name: RedPajamaCommonCrawl