Julia Justiss - The Tempting Of The Governess

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

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

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

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

‘What is it?’

‘Miss Overton to see you, Colonel.’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

How could you be so neglectful...

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

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

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

Late that afternoon, Olivia settled her two tired charges back in the nursery to rest before dinner. She’d just gone to her own room to tidy up when Mansfield knocked at her door and informed her that the Colonel wished to see her at once.

Sighing, Olivia nodded. ‘Inform him that I shall be down directly.’

Most likely, after their acrimonious exchange this morning, her irate employer intended to formally discharge her. When, as furiously angry as she could ever remember being, she’d stalked from Colonel Glendenning’s library that morning, she’d been single-mindedly focused on providing for the children the warm blankets and clothing the caretakers of Somers Abbey were unprepared to furnish. Once that task was performed, she had resolved to resign—if the Colonel didn’t discharge her first.

But over the course of the day, her anger had cooled and her compassion kindled. Who would look after brave little Elizabeth and silent Sophie, who had yet to speak a word to her, if she left Somers Abbey?

Knowing how they were situated, she couldn’t just walk away—not until the Colonel found some kind female relation to take over their care—someone who showed a willingness to actually care for them.

So, as little stomach as she had for the idea, she was going to have to apologise to the Colonel. In terms humble and contrite enough to persuade him to keep her on.

She would have to be—how had he described the governesses in India?— meek and retiring .

If she kept before her the vision of the fear in little Sophie’s face when Mrs Wallace had looked at her accusingly this morning, maybe she wouldn’t gag on the words.

Her face washed and her hair and gown straightened, Olivia took a deep breath and took herself to the library.

Looking stern and contained, but much better than he had in the early morning light, when he’d been unshaven, bleary-eyed and obviously the worse for a night of hard drinking, the Colonel nodded to her as she entered. ‘Take a chair, please, Miss Overton.’

He wanted her to sit? Perhaps he intended to berate her at length before dismissing her. Wanting to head him off, Olivia said, ‘I’d rather stand, sir, if you don’t mind.’

Quirking his lip, the Colonel shook his head. ‘Are you always contrary?’

Belatedly realising she’d once again failed to be an obedient servant, Olivia said hastily, ‘Sorry, sir. I don’t mean to be.’

‘I don’t suppose you do. However, I’d like to inform you—’

‘Please, Colonel, if I might speak first?’ Without waiting for permission, she rushed on. ‘I... I must apologise for my conduct this morning. It was not my place to criticise the way you are discharging the responsibilities you generously agreed to shoulder in the raising of your cousin’s children, especially when you are already burdened with the heavy task of restoring your own estate, and have no wife or sister to assist you with their care. I let my...distress over their situation lead me into being much too impetuous and outspoken. I hope you will forgive me and let me begin again anew.’ Not at all sure she could make good on the promise, she made herself add, ‘It will not happen again.’