Georgie Lee - The Cinderella Governess

He’ll be here. Joanna stared down at the scuff mark on the toe of her half-boot to hide the flush creeping over her cheeks. She unclasped her hands from in front of her and allowed them to dangle by her sides. It shouldn’t matter to her if Major Preston was coming or not. His doings were not her concern, but the news made standing still difficult.

She waited behind her three other charges for them to finish their food so their lessons could begin. Since the family ignored her at breakfast, and most of the day, her worry quickly passed. She could drop dead of the pox behind them and they weren’t likely to notice.

‘All of the Inghams are coming.’ Lady Huntford didn’t look up from her morning correspondence, taking little note of Frances’s distress. Her blonde curls, like her daughter’s, were tight beside her full cheeks and small eyes. Bearing six children had made her stout, but not fat, and her lack of interest in anything besides gossip and dresses gave her wide face a perpetually bored appearance. ‘I thought you’d be pleased—after all, you were with him for some time last night.’

‘I wasn’t with him.’ Frances all but pounded her thighs in frustration.

This was enough to make Lady Huntford finally put down her letter and look at her daughter. ‘Then what were you two doing in the hallway?’

Frances looked to Joanna, who dropped her gaze to the back of the chair in front of her, noticing a chip in the finish. The chit didn’t deserve her help. Her silence meant Frances was forced to invent her own excuses for her mother.

‘We were talking. Miss Radcliff and I had stepped out for some air and he happened upon us. We discussed, uh, well, it was—what were we discussing, Miss Radcliff?’ Frances appealed to the woman she’d declared her enemy for her salvation.

You acting like a harlot with Lieutenant Foreman.

‘His return from Spain.’ It galled Joanna to use her private conversation with him to defend Frances instead of telling Lady Huntford the truth. She doubted how much good speaking up would do anyway. Lady Huntford would probably blame her favourite daughter’s misguided attempt at romance on Joanna.

‘Of course, I forgot he was telling us about Spain,’ Frances rushed. ‘An awful topic.’

‘I don’t imagine you’ll be forced to discuss it much with him since he’s resigned his commission.’ Lady Huntford sniffed before turning in her seat to face Joanna. ‘I noticed you were speaking a great deal with him. What were you thinking dominating so much of his time?’

‘He approached me, Lady Huntford, and asked about Frances.’ Joanna hoped she wasn’t struck down for lying. ‘I answered his many questions about her.’

Lady Huntford’s eyes widened. ‘What an unexpected surprise. You should have told me about it at once and not kept it a secret. You’ll do no such thing in the future, do you understand?’

‘Yes, Lady Huntford.’ It seemed Frances wasn’t the only one to be nearly caught out this morning. Joanna glanced at the young lady who frowned into her plate. The two of them hadn’t been alone together since they’d left the ball last night. In fact, Frances had all but avoided Joanna, upholding her end of the bargain with Major Preston. His threat would be more potent while he was here, sleeping in a room below Joanna’s, eating at this very table, walking the halls where she might glimpse his confident stance and dominating eyes.

Stop thinking about him!

Lady Huntford fixed on her eldest daughter, her voice snapping Joanna out of her daydream. ‘It appears we have even more reason for you to try and impress him.’

‘I don’t see why. He’s only the second son and it could be years before he inherits, if he does at all. A woman might waste her life waiting for nothing.’ Frances crossed her arms over her chest in a huff.

Joanna balled her hands into fists at her sides, her nails biting into her palms. After last night, and the quick way Major Preston had defended her, Frances should be grateful. Joanna would give her eye teeth to be able to speak freely with him. All Frances could do was cast him aside and pout over her rake of a lieutenant. Her behaviour disgusted Joanna, but she buried it deep down, afraid it would show in what she did or said. Her one consolation was Major Preston having seen Frances’s true personality. She doubted a man as honourable as he would take a genuine interest in a woman like Frances. Though if he didn’t, why had he accepted the invitation? Lady Huntford had lamented the lack of a response from the Inghams for days. Joanna wondered what had changed his mind and if it had something to do with her.

Of course not. She was nothing to no one. Not even her mother or father, who’d cast her on the charity of Madame Dubois instead of raising her themselves, had wanted her. It was foolish to think the second son of an earl would defy his parents’ and society’s expectations to woo her. His concern for her well-being last night had been a fluke, like Catherine completing her French lessons without an argument yesterday. While Major Preston was staying at Huntford Place, he wasn’t likely to be kind or attentive to Joanna, but to ignore her like everyone else did. There was no reason for him to behave differently when there’d be so many other eligible ladies here to hold his attention.

Lady Huntford gathered up her correspondence and beckoned her eldest daughter to follow her. ‘Come along, we must choose the gowns you’ll wear. We can’t waste this opportunity.’

‘What about me? Can I attend the house party?’ Catherine sat up straighter in her chair in eager anticipation.

‘Of course not. You’re not out yet.’

‘Even if you were, he isn’t likely to favour you,’ Frances sneered at her sister as she trudged after their mother.

Catherine slumped over her breakfast, struggling to hold back tears. Unlike her sister, Catherine had her father’s dark hair and long face with thin lips which seemed perpetually fixed in a downtrodden frown. Her one blessing was lacking the petty streak which permanently marred her older sister’s personality and beauty. At eighteen, Frances was only two years older than Catherine. Given their closeness in age they should have been friends, but Frances’s churlish nature, and Catherine’s more retiring one, discouraged it.

The grand clock in the entrance hall began to chime nine times.

‘Come, girls, it’s time for your French lesson,’ Joanna urged, feeling sorry for Catherine and wanting to distract her from her sister’s insults with activity.

‘I’m too old to be hustled into the schoolroom by a governess.’ Catherine’s defiance weakened Joanna’s pity.

Anne, the blonde seven-year-old, turned around and stuck her tongue out at Joanna. ‘We’ll tell you when it’s time for our lessons.’

Ava, her twin sister, ignored Joanna and continued to eat her half-burned toast.

Joanna stared at the back of their three heads and the bows wound through their curls. The twins were no better behaved or obedient than their eldest sister. She wondered how she would get them to the schoolroom when, to her surprise, it was their father who interceded.

‘Girls, get up at once and stop being contrary,’ he commanded as he strolled into the room, his large, black hunting dog muddying the carpet as it trotted beside him.

With deep pouts the girls shoved away from the table and stood up to form something of a straight line in front of Joanna.

‘That’s how you command charges, Miss Radcliff,’ Sir Rodger tossed at Joanna as he took his place at the head of the now-empty table. ‘One would think you’d have learned such things at that school of yours.’

Joanna’s cheeks burned at the insulting rebuke and the sniggering it elicited from the girls. After their father’s public reprimand, they’d be even more difficult to deal with once they got back to the schoolroom.