Ann Lethbridge - A Family For The Widowed Governess

Janey clapped her hands. ‘It looks just like a horse.’

Lizzie frowned. ‘That looks nothing like a real horse.’

‘But it will eventually,’ Marguerite said. She softened the lines, drew the mane and tail. ‘The better you get at controlling shapes, the easier it will become.’

Lizzie looked unconvinced, but rubbed her slate clean and started again.

A knock at the door. Their snack had arrived. Apples and cheese and milk, and tea for her. Well, at least the girls were properly fed. The two girls tore into the apples and gobbled up the cheese.

Marguerite laughed. ‘Slow down, ladies. Where are your manners?’

The girls stopped and stared at her. They continued to eat, but with much more decorum. Yet Marguerite had the feeling they were holding themselves back. As if they were starving. How could that be? Was it possible that they were deprived of food as some sort of punishment?

Once they had finished and cleaned up they went back to drawing on their slates.

* * *

By the end of the second hour, Marguerite had them connecting shapes.

‘Very soon, you will be ready to start putting your drawings on paper,’ she said as they cleared up the slates and chalks to put them away. ‘If you want to practise these shapes by yourself, you may.’

‘Oh, we are not allowed in here without a teacher,’ Lizzie announced. ‘And Papa is still looking for a governess for us.’

And when he found one, his need for her would be at an end. All governesses taught drawing along with the other necessary lessons a girl needed to prepare her for life. Indeed, drawing was the least important skill. Needlework, writing and reading were far more valuable.

‘Who is teaching you lessons at the moment?’

‘Nanny reads to us, when her eyes aren’t too tired,’ Janey said.

Marguerite frowned. This was not the way to bring up such spirited intelligent girls.

They walked back to the nursery. At the door, Lizzie turned and looked at her. ‘Are you coming back tomorrow.’

‘Not tomorrow, but the day after.’

Elizabeth gave her a narrow-eyed stare, as if she did not believe her.

Janey gave a little skip. ‘Goody. I like drawing.’ Lizzie ushered her into the nursery and then turned back. ‘You don’t have to come again if you don’t want to. I am teaching Janey to read.’ She went inside and shut the door.

What on earth did Lizzie mean? Since it had been a busy afternoon, with them learning lots of new things, Marguerite decided to ask her about it another time. She returned to the schoolroom for her outer raiment.

* * *

All afternoon, Jack had wanted to go up to the schoolroom to see how the girls were faring with their drawing teacher. He had personally overseen the snack to be taken up to them. What if the girls were misbehaving? What if Lady Marguerite was not following the rules? He had forced himself not to go and check. Until Lady Marguerite proved that she could not cope, he would leave her to it.

At precisely five minutes after four he went up to the schoolroom. The girls were not there and Lady Marguerite had her coat on and was putting on her bonnet.

‘They are back with Nanny,’ she said with a cool smile.

He frowned. ‘Oh, I see. How did they get on? Did they behave themselves?’

She nodded. ‘They did.’

That was a relief. He had threatened them with a fate worse than death if they did not behave like perfect little ladies with their new teacher. The odd thing was, the girls had never met Aunt Ermintrude. He had no idea why they had decided she was their worst nightmare. Perhaps it was his fault. He had threatened a visit from her often enough.

He stepped aside to allow Lady Marguerite to pass. ‘I asked one of the lads to bring the trap around,’ he said. ‘It is waiting at the front door. I will see you here on Friday.’

She hesitated. Devil take it, was she not telling him the truth when she said the girls had behaved themselves? He hadn’t seen any of the telltale signs that would indicate she was lying.

Lady Marguerite drew in a breath. ‘Yes. I will be here on Friday at two in the afternoon and not a minute later.’

He winced. She must be referring to his rules about timeliness. Well, he simply wanted to make things clear, that was all. It was better if everyone knew where they stood.

‘Allow me to escort you out.’

She shook her head. ‘No need. I know my way.’

And with that she whisked by him and down the stairs.

He was damned if he was going to chase after her, no matter how much he might want to.

* * *

Later that evening, Marguerite waited anxiously in the designated spot, hoping to discover the identity of this man who was causing her such distress. Unfortunately, the alley running beside the Green Man led to a row of labourers’ cottages behind it and it was hard to see anything at all since there was no moon this evening. This was not a good place to meet a man who offered nothing but threats.

Her heart thumped loudly in her chest. Her breathing sounded loud in her ears. She wanted to run.

The man who had sat in the pew behind her at Petra’s wedding in St George’s Church had been well-spoken and she had taken him for a gentleman. Now, she was beginning to doubt her judgement.

The sound of male laughter wafted from the inn as a door opened and spilled light into the alley. It closed, leaving the narrow lane seeming darker than ever. She swallowed.

The tap of footsteps on cobbles approached.

She held her breath.

‘You have the money?’ a cultured voice asked.

She could see only a silhouette in the gloom. ‘I do.’ She sounded a great deal calmer than she felt. A little spurt of pride gave her courage. She would not be intimidated or bullied by this man.

‘Hand it over.’

She held out a knitted purse containing the guineas Lord Compton had given her and the few other coins she had scraped together to make up the sum he demanded. ‘You have the sketch?’

The man plucked the purse from her hand. ‘Not until I have payment in full.’

Disappointed, but not surprised, she grimaced. ‘I could go to the authorities, you know.’

His chuckle sounded menacing. ‘And tell them what? That you have denigrated your future King and now do not want to pay a man you do not know for your disloyalty to remain unpublished? Even if they listen, your sketch will become public.’ His voice softened. ‘Pay me and it need never come to light.’

Embarrassment scoured her very soul at the recollection of what she had drawn.

‘Twenty-five pounds and you will be free of me for ever,’ he promised, his tone wheedling.

‘But I have just given you—’

‘A show of good faith, my dear. Next time you will bring me what I requested or bear the consequences.’

She shivered at the sneer in his voice and a strange sense of familiarity. Had she met this man before? Or was she simply recalling his voice from that first meeting?

‘How can I trust that you won’t ask for more then, too?’ She knew she sounded desperate.

‘I give you my word.’

As if she could trust the word of one such as he, even if he did sound like a gentleman. ‘No true gentleman would do something like this.’

His hand shot out and gripped her wrist. ‘Do not insult me or it will be the worse for you. One last payment of twenty-five pounds and the sketch is yours. Think of your family.’

She swallowed. ‘It will take more time to raise that amount. This was supposed to be part of it.’

‘You still have two weeks,’ he said.

It was a great deal of money to find in two weeks, even with the money from Lord Compton and the sale of what little jewellery she had left.

‘I can’t do it that soon,’ she said.