Michelle Styles - Breaking the Governess's Rules

Louisa risked a breath and tried once again to concentrate on the conversation between Miss Daphne and the younger Miss Blandish, a conversation that appeared to have Miss Daphne enthralled beyond the bounds of propriety. The conversation appeared to revolve around Miss Nella Blandish’s exploits with a gang of murderous thieves earlier that summer in Gilsland.

‘And now my former governess, Miss Milton, is married to Viscount Ravensworth,’ Miss Nella Blandish finished with a triumphal clap of her hands. ‘I received the letter this very morning. And the entire marriage is thanks to me.’

‘That is quite enough, Nella.’ The elder Miss Blandish gave a prolonged sniff and toss of her blonde curls. She would be pretty if she did not look so bored with the proceedings. As it was, Miss Blandish reminded Louisa of Clarissa Newton—beautiful, but self-absorbed. ‘We all understand that we were not invited to the wedding.’

‘Lord Ravensworth procured a special licence, rather than having a society wedding,’ her mother said with a thoughtful expression. ‘It is how a governess can come to marry a viscount. Personally I never thought Daisy Milton had it in her, but it turns out she was an heiress all along.’

‘Daisy Milton?’ Louisa said, sitting bolt upright, all thoughts of ending the visit fled. ‘Daisy Milton, who has a sister Felicity and a young niece?’

‘That is correct. Do you have a connection?’ Mrs Blandish raised her lorgnette and proceeded to minutely examine Louisa.

‘Daisy Milton is an old friend of mine, but I had no idea that she was even engaged. Let alone entangled with jewel thieves.’ Louisa put her hands to her mouth. She dreaded to think how Daisy had coped. Daisy had based her entire existence on keeping her reputation spotless. ‘I look forward to receiving her latest letter.’

‘Indeed,’ Mrs Blandish said, settling herself against the sofa’s cushions. Her tone implied that Daisy might not have time for such an acquaintance now that she had been elevated to a peerage.

‘You do seem to be hearing news about your old acquaintances, Louisa dear,’ Miss Daphne said with a twinkle in her eye. ‘And here you thought you would not have any connection to Newcastle.’

‘Do you know someone else?’ Miss Blandish asked, suddenly becoming animated. ‘Is it someone we know? Someone in society?’

Louisa inwardly seethed. If only Miss Daphne had had the sense to remain quiet. People had long memories and there was no telling what Mrs Blandish might have heard and how the tale had been twisted. Daisy might even have inadvertently told Louisa’s tale. It bothered her that less than twenty-four hours after encountering Jonathon, she was tempted to return to that naïve girl who looked to others to solve her problems.

‘I … I …’ Louisa began. ‘That is to say …’

Miss Elliot rocked back and forth as if she were no older than Miss Nella Blandish. ‘The fourth Baron of Chesterholm did Louisa the honour of renewing his acquaintance last evening.’

‘And were you good friends with just Lord Chesterholm or his late wife as well?’ Miss Blandish asked with a faint curl of her lip. There was a sharp intake of breath from Miss Daphne and Miss Nella Blandish pretended a sudden interest in her glove buttons.

‘Susan!’ her mother exclaimed. ‘Manners are the young lady’s greatest asset.’

‘I trust you do not think the question impertinent,’ Miss Blandish said, her cheeks becoming stained cherry pink. ‘You do understand why I ask it? If one is to be a débutante in London, one must be so careful.’ She gave Nella Blandish a ferocious look. ‘Particularly when one’s sister is given to exaggeration. My sister’s tongue nearly did for dear Miss Milton’s prospects and I must not have the same happen to me.’

‘I was a governess to Lord Chesterholm’s sister,’ Louisa replied with a clenched-jaw smile.

‘And you have given up being a governess?’ Mrs Blandish asked, leaning forwards, her eyes suddenly alight. ‘We are currently between—’

An involuntary shudder went through Louisa. Mrs Blandish with her purple turban and self-righteous airs represented all that was wrong with being a governess. She pitied anyone who had the misfortune to work for the woman. ‘I found it more pleasant to be a companion.’

‘But now, Louisa is a dear, dear friend.’ Miss Daphne gave a broad smile. ‘Louisa is far too modest about her prospects. My sister left her the bulk of her considerable fortune. She has no need to work. I daily expect a good match for her. My nephew …’

‘I am sure you choose your friends well, Miss Elliot.’ Miss Blandish began to wave her fan about and her eyes took on a hunted expression. ‘No harm was intended. Mama is desperate to replace Miss Milton.’

‘Miss Daphne and her late sister have never had problems distinguishing between true friends and hangerson.’ Louisa kept her head up. The Blandishes and their kind were the sort of creatures that Louisa despised—only concerned about appearances and quick to judge. Exactly like Clarissa Newton and her parents.

Before Miss Blandish had a chance to reply, Jenkins brought in a silver tray with two cream-coloured calling cards.

Miss Daphne took the cards and her face lit up, becoming twenty years younger. ‘Mrs Blandish, my nephew, Viscount Furniss, and Lord Chesterholm have both come to pay their regards as well. What a shame you cannot extend your call.’

‘Mama,’ Miss Nella Blandish said, ‘we ought to depart. Miss Milton always used to say—fifteen minutes and no longer.’

Mrs Blandish made a face like she had swallowed a particularly sour plum. ‘Come along, girls. We have other business to attend to. The day is wasting.’

‘But, Mama …’ Miss Blandish wailed. ‘Surely we can stay a moment longer. They are both … eligible.’

Louisa stared at the woman in astonishment.

‘Has Susan become utterly devoid of sensibility?’ Miss Nella Blandish asked in a stage whisper. ‘The Viscountess Ravensworth would be horrified!’

‘You will consider staying, Mrs Blandish,’ Miss Daphne said, patting the sofa with a conspiratorial expression. ‘Some rules were meant to be broken. particularly when faced with an unmarried daughter and two highly eligible titled men.’

Mrs Blandish hesitated, obviously debating the demands of propriety and the demands of matrimony. Matrimony won out and she settled herself back down on the sofa. ‘I suppose we can impose on Miss Elliot and Miss Sibson for a few moments longer.’

Miss Daphne gave a beatific smile. Louisa narrowed her gaze. Miss Daphne had some scheme in mind and wanted the Blandish tribe to stay.

‘I had hoped you would see reason,’ Miss Daphne said. ‘Miss Nella tells such interesting stories. My nephew loves a good tale.’

Louisa stood up and reached for her beaded reticule. She would find a way to speak to Jonathon in private. The letter was far too damning to be waved under his nose in public, particularly with the Blandishes hanging on every word. But she had cried her last tear over him four years ago.

Jonathon strode in, his frock coat flaring to emphasise the length of his legs. He surveyed the gathered throng, every inch the proud aristocrat from his immaculately tied stock to his butter-yellow gloves and silver-topped cane. Despite all the promises she had given throughout the years, her pulse beat faster as his eyes appeared to linger on her. Louisa turned her gaze to the reticule, going over each damning line of the letter in her mind, reminding her errant heart. He had ruined her life once. Only a fool would allow that to happen a second time and she was no fool.

‘Lord Chesterholm, Rupert, what a delightful surprise,’ Miss Daphne said, fluttering her fan. ‘You must have guessed that Cook baked iced buns today.’