Julia Justiss - The Tempting Of The Governess

Just as dawn was lighting the sky, Olivia heard the maid’s footfalls in the hallway. Stepping into the corridor, she said, ‘Good morning, Mary. Bring my breakfast tray in here, won’t you? I will eat with the girls.’

‘If you please, miss,’ the maid said. Her eyes widened as she entered, no doubt noting the forbidden counterpane draped across the beds. ‘I’ll bring the girls’ tray up in a trice.’

‘Thank you. And would you tell Mrs Wallace I would like to speak with her at her earliest convenience?’

Mary’s gaze travelled from Olivia to the counterpane covering the girls’ beds and back. Setting down Olivia’s tray, she gave her a nervous smile. ‘Yes, miss. I can take that coverlet back to your room on my way.’

Olivia returned the smile. ‘That’s kind of you, but it shall remain here until the children are provided with adequate blankets of their own.’

The maid stared. ‘Are you sure about that, miss?’

Evidently it wasn’t just her two charges who feared the housekeeper. ‘Quite sure. Indeed, that is what I wish to speak with Mrs Wallace about.’

The maid hesitated, as if she meant to say something, then shook her head. ‘As you wish, miss.’

After the maid walked out, Elizabeth whispered, ‘Mrs Wallace is not going to be happy with you.’

‘Probably not. But that’s all right, because I am not happy with her, either.’

Olivia was able to finish her coffee, toast and cheese and assist the girls to dress before she heard the housekeeper’s light step in the hallway. No doubt Mrs Wallace had deliberately delayed responding to her summons, intent upon putting the new employee in her place.

However, a governess occupied a unique position within a noble household. Being gently born, she was not part of the staff below stairs or under the housekeeper’s authority. A fact Olivia suspected she was about to have to prove.

Which was fine with her. After the way the children had been treated, and the slovenly condition of her chamber, she was quite prepared for a confrontation.

Mrs Wallace walked into the nursery, spied the coverlet over the beds and frowned. ‘Miss Overton, what is the counterpane from your bedchamber doing here?’

‘The girls were cold when I came in to check on them this morning. Not knowing where the linens are kept, I brought in my own coverlet to keep them warm until I could have you bring them thicker blankets.’

Anger flaring in the woman’s eyes, she turned her gaze accusingly on the girls. With a whimper, Sophie cowered behind her sister.

Looking back at Olivia, she said, ‘As I’m sure you’ve noticed, Miss Overton, the household is living in...reduced straits. The children are newcomers to England, and will soon become adjusted to our climate. I have no household funds to spare for such frivolities as extra blankets.’

Though Elizabeth remained protectively in front of her sister, she looked nearly as scared as Sophie. The fear on their faces raised Olivia’s simmering anger several more degrees.

One of us is going to yield and it won’t be me , she thought. But no point terrifying the children by having them witness what promises to be an unpleasant exchange.

‘ Perhaps you will accompany me to my chamber so we may discuss this further.’

Mrs Wallace opened her lips, obviously intending to refuse. Olivia fixed on her the hard, unwavering stare that had, in the past, reduced impudent housemaids and a few insolent footmen to silence. ‘Very well,’ she said at last. ‘I wouldn’t wish to embarrass you in front of the children.’

‘Nor I, you. Shall we?’

As soon as they reached Olivia’s room, Mrs Wallace said, ‘Let me put some things straight right away. The household, and all household supplies, are my responsibility and I won’t have you interfering in my realm. Besides, it’s ridiculous, indulging a pair of orphans like that.’

‘The welfare of girls is my realm, and I shall “interfere” wherever necessary to ensure it. I’m not demanding you provide them satin quilts and eiderdown pillows. Just thick woollen blankets of sufficient warmth to make comfortable two small children brought up in the tropics and unused to English weather.’

‘Cotton blankets are what have always been used in the nursery.’

‘Well, now it shall be using woollen ones.’

Pausing, the housekeeper scanned Olivia up and down, her gaze scornful. ‘I understand you grew up in a fine house before your...change in circumstances. You should realise at a glance, having seen something of Somers Abbey, that I don’t have a fraction of the funds or servants necessary to properly maintain a dwelling of this size. We all have to make do.’

‘I should think there are enough servants to make sure that the few rooms that are occupied—like this one—are in clean and orderly condition.’

Mrs Wallace gave her a thin smile. ‘At Somers Abbey, servants clean their own rooms.’

Olivia gritted her teeth against the sharp reply she wanted to make. If the woman thought she could cow or embarrass her over her loss of status, she was in for a disappointment. ‘If you will supply me with the requisite supplies, I shall bring this chamber up to the standard I expect. I shall still need woollen blankets for the girls, of course. Or must I take up that matter with the Colonel?’

‘I would certainly not disturb him over such a trifling matter,’ she retorted—and then stopped abruptly. Her smile broadening, the housekeeper continued, ‘If you think the matter important enough, by all means discuss it with him. Good day, Miss Overton.’

‘It certainly is important enough for me to “disturb” him,’ Olivia snapped furiously as she strode past the housekeeper and down the passageway. Hoping she wouldn’t get lost in the maze of hallways, she retraced her steps to the front hallway and found the door leading down to the kitchens.

‘Mansfield!’ she called as she walked into the servants’ hall. ‘Where are you? You must convey me to the master at once!’

Eight years of running an aristocratic household must have rung in her voice, for when the butler popped out of the pantry, he didn’t offer even a token protest. ‘This way, Miss Overton.’

Carefully, Hugh walked over to his desk and lowered himself in the chair, his mouth as dry as road dust. A quick sideways glance towards the nearly empty whisky bottle on the desk set off the hammer-on-anvil throbbing in his head again. His stomach roiling, he sank his head into his hands.

He hadn’t intended to drink that much whisky last night—or to spend the night on the sofa in his library. But then, in the early evening after he’d returned to the manor, Mansfield had pleaded with him to come up to the west bedchamber wing and inspect the outermost room, where he feared a leak had begun around the chimney. Reaching that room meant that Hugh was forced to walk right past the nursery.

He’d tried to shut his ears, but he’d heard it anyway—the soft murmur of a childish voice emanating from within the schoolroom. The timbre of the voice, the remembered blue, blue eyes of his cousin’s girls, brought the vision back with searing clarity.

Drew, chattering to his ayah in the nursery of the cantonment house...jumping up with a shout and coming to the doorway for a hug as Hugh looked in on him before leaving for duty .