The Ungrateful Governness

4

The Dowager Duchess of Middleburgh was seated at the escritoire in the morning room of her house in Berkeley Square when her grandson was announced. She was in the process of writing to one of her many old acquaintances scattered throughout the country and farther afield. She peered at him over the spectacles she had affected several years before, though the same grandson was in the habit of telling her that from the windows of her house she would be able to see an ant crawling over the Chinese roof of the pumphouse in the middle of the square if she felt it in her own interest to do so.

"Never tell me you are up and abroad already, Charles, m'boy," she said. "Can't be more than ten o'clock. Must be in love. With the Barrie chit?"

"Quarter past, to be exact," Lord Rutherford said, crossing the room and bending to kiss the wrinkled cheek offered for the purpose. "And no and no."

"You did look her over, though?" she asked sharply. "Not a beauty, I take it. But wealthy, Charles, and of good family. You could do worse."

"I suppose I could," he agreed. "I suppose I could get leg-shackled to a poor girl of bad temper and total absence of character. The thing is, Grandmama, that I don't need the blunt. I don't gamble, you know, and have only one expensive habit. And I have quite a sizable income. Papa is as rich as Croesus and you are said to have moneybags stuffed behind every wall in the house. And who else does either of you have to leave it all to but your favorite son and grandson?"

"You are our only son and grandson. And don't be impertinent with me," his grandmother said, laying down her pen and blotting her half-finished letter carefully. "Why are you here?"

"I am your grandson," Rutherford said. "And I have just returned from a journey you sent me on. I thought you would be interested to know that the girl will not suit. She turns me decidedly green."

"Nonsense," the duchess said. "You can't expect a gel of good family to jump between the sheets at a snap of the fingers, Charles. Gave you the cold shoulder, did she? Your trouble is, m'boy, that you know only one type of wench and think they must all be the same."

"Grandmama," he protested, "I do not live all my life in the gutter or in the boudoirs of actresses, I would have you know. I have met one or two ladies in my time. You and Mama, Faith and Hope, for example."

"What are we going to do with you, then?" she asked, frowning. "I refuse to die until you have got an heir, Charles. I'm not having anyone emptying out my walls on my death for the sake of what's-his-name. Henry? Theodore? Never can remember which one is next in line. The chinless one, anyway."

"Theodore," he said. "Grandmama, I promise to try my best not to pop off until I have done my duty in the nursery line. In the meantime I have a favor to ask."

"I knew it," she said suspiciously. "You did not rush over here the morning after a long journey because of filial loyalty, Charles."

He grinned. "I want you to help one of my failed oats, Grandmama," he said.

"A wench?" she asked sharply. "And failed, Charles? She's not in the family way? I don't intend to start providing for your bastards, my lad. I always told Middleburgh the same."

"I don't ask you to," he said. "My own purse will stretch to providing for all two hundred and thirty of them. No, this is a girl after your own heart, Grand-mama. She wouldn't have me. Twice. I unleashed all my not inconsiderable charm and skill on her, but she would have none of me. I, of course, consider her remarkably foolish."

"And you want me to help her, Charles? Ring the bell, boy. You will join me for some coffee. Nothing stronger. Too early in the day for you to start drinking. You probably do it for all the rest of the day anyway."

"Coffee will be welcome," he said, settling himself into a chair beside the fire and stretching his boots toward the blaze. "It is deuced cold outside today."

"It often is in November," she said.

"Miss Moore was a governess with the Barries," Rutherford said, "and I somehow caused her to be dismissed. She had rejected me cold, I would have you know, but because she was caught barefoot in the library with me, she was dismissed as a loose woman quite unfit for the charge of the Barrie chit. Oh, she was also wearing a sack of a nightgown and had her hair loose all down her back. And it was midnight or thereabouts."

"Hm," she said. "The chit was asking for it. I should help her to a whipping."

"Nonsense," he said. "She was looking for a book to put her to sleep."

"A man more like," his grandmother said.

"If that were so, she would not have refused my invitation, would she?" he asked reasonably.

"Did you ever consider that perhaps you were the wrong man, Charles?" she asked, peering at him over her spectacles again.

He laughed. "Grandmama," he said, "you will always keep me humble, I'm afraid. I met her on the road two evenings ago and failed again, I am sorry to say. Very sorry! But I feel responsible, you see. I gave her your direction and assured her that you would help her find employment." He smiled disarmingly.

"Did you indeed?" she said. "And as what, pray? As a chambermaid in this house so that you may molest her at your every visit? And I suppose I could expect you to grace me with your company twice daily?"

Rutherford's smile became more rueful. "She is refined, Grandmama," he said, "and virtuous. A lady in everything but fortune, I believe. You must know someone who needs a governess. You know everyone in the kingdom, I sometimes think. But one thing. You must get her away from London. Far away. I really have no wish to meet her again."

The dowager duchess regarded her grandson steadily for a few silent moments. "I begin to like the gel," she commented. "It takes a rare one to discompose someone as jaded as you, m'boy."

"Jaded?" he said, eyebrows raised. "And discomposed, Grandmama? You mistake the matter quite."

"Don't come haughty with me, Charles," she said, quite unperturbed. "If it comes to haughtiness, I can give you lessons. You liked the gel, eh?"

"As I have said, Grandmama," he said, "I could have put her to good use. But she chooses to be an impregnable fortress. I have given up the siege. There are willing females enough."

"Go to it then, lad, but not to be driven in Hyde Park," his grandmother said. "That was a disgusting display."

"I behaved with the utmost respectability, Grandmama," Rutherford protested. "I did not come anywhere near you or even dream of trying to present the, er, female to you. I think you were secretly chagrined that I did not bring her close enough for your inspection. I know better than to do any such thing, my dear."

"About this gel," the duchess said. "She may come here. I shall see what I can do. If I like the look of her, I shall find her something. But barefoot in the library at midnight, Charles! Not at all the thing. She should know better. She is something of a beauty, I take it?"

"A little gray governess actually," Rutherford said with a smile.

"Hm," his grandmother said. "Except when she is barefoot in the library, I gather. Well, and about time, Stebbins. I thought perhaps Cook had had to send to South America for the coffee beans. Now, Charles, let us change the subject. Tell me more about Barrie and his gel."

It was at a somewhat more respectable hour of the following morning that Jessica was shown into the salon that led off the main hallway of the house on Berkeley Square. The hour was almost noon. She had come after some hesitation. Perhaps now she was in London she should not rely on the promised help of the Earl of Rutherford. Berkeley Square was a very exalted location from which to expect help. There seemed every chance that she would suffer the ignominy of being turned away from the door. Besides, she was not sure that she would wish to be beholden to the earl for anything. Perhaps he would use his generosity against her in the future.

That was unfair, though, she realized as soon as the thought had entered her mind. Had he wished to use anything against her, he might have taken advantage of her physical presence in his bed and her verbal agreement to become his mistress at the Blue Peacock Inn. And it was very unlikely that a man of Lord Rutherford's rank and physical appeal would wish to renew his attentions to someone who had repulsed him in quite such a way.

She would have to call at Berkeley Square, she realized finally. She had completed her journey to London on the stagecoach despite Lord Rutherford's almost insistent invitation to ride with him in his carriage. She had refused to allow him to take her to his elderly acquaintance, but had been willing to accept only a written name and address. She had had to spend another night on the road.

Part of her had bitterly regretted her refusal to join the earl in his carriage. He had left before the stagecoach, and from the moment of his departure until her arrival in London she had had to suffer the vicious sarcasm and more open condemnation of her fellow travelers. In fact, the female next to whom she had sat on the previous day had refused to share a seat with "a gen'leman's bit o' fluff."

By the time she had arrived in London her spirits were so low, her confidence so bruised, that she had been rash enough to stay at a respectable hotel. It was not a grand place and not expensive, but it was far beyond her means. She could afford to stay there only one more night, and that was provided she did not eat at all during the day. She had to go to Berkeley Square. And she would have to hope that the Dowager Duchess of Middleburgh would be able to find her an immediate situation.

But she would not beg, she thought, as she stood in the middle of the salon, afraid to approach too near to the fire, although her long walk through the streets of London had thoroughly chilled her, lest she look too forward to the lady when she came. A duchess! She had tried to shut her mind to that fact. Berkeley Square was bad enough.

The door was opened by a footman eventually and a tall, angular lady of exaggeratedly upright bearing swept into the room. Jessica's heart sank. The woman's face was decidedly stern. She looked at Jessica along a thin, pointed nose, for all the world as if she were inspecting a worm and trying to decide if she should have it speared and thrown outside or if she would merely squash it with her foot.

Jessica curtsied and found herself unconsciously resuming the meek manner she had always deemed necessary with the Barries.

"Miss Moore?" the lady said in a voice that matched exactly the expression on her face. "You wished to see me?"

"Yes, your grace," Jessica said, wishing that her voice did not sound quite so thin and breathless. "The Earl of Rutherford said I might come here and beg you to help me find employment." Not at all what she had wanted to say, she thought, annoyed at herself.

"And does the Earl of Rutherford think I am an employment agent?" the duchess asked, eyebrows raised. "If it is work in my scullery you are seeking, child, you must go around to the kitchen door and speak with my housekeeper."

Jessica allowed herself one hurried look up into the stern face. "I have been a governess, your grace," she said. "But I see that Lord Rutherford assumed too much. Please forgive me, ma'am. I would not have come without his assurances that I might."

"My grandson is a presumptuous puppy," the duchess said. "It comes of being the only son of his father and the only grandson of his grandmother. The boy has been spoiled. Thinks he can twist us all around his little finger. And very often succeeds."

Her grandson! She might have known, Jessica thought. The two shared that air of haughtiness. But she felt even more embarrassed than she had already been. He had sent her to his grandmother.

"I-I did not know," she said foolishly. "Please forgive me. I shall not take any more of your time."

"I thought you came for help," the duchess said, sweeping across the room and seating herself with straight back on the edge of a chair by the fireplace. She motioned to a chair opposite hers. "Sit down, gel. Your nose is red. Cold outside, is it? But then it usually is in November. Warm yourself. I shall send for coffee."

"That is very good of you, your grace," Jessica said, taking the offered chair after a moment's hesitation.

She was not a little disconcerted to find herself the object of a silent and intense scrutiny for all of the next minute.

"Well, the boy was right about one thing," the duchess said at last. "You are a gray governess. Did that

Barrie woman insist on such dreary and tasteless garments? Take off your bonnet, child."

Jessica blushed as she obeyed.

The duchess clucked her tongue. "Ruinous on the hair," she said. "Scraping it back like that takes all the natural shine and life out of it, gel. Miss Barrie is not a beauty, I take it?"

"Ma'am?" Jessica's eyes widened in incomprehension at this apparent non sequitur.

"The Barrie woman must be a clothhead if she thought to make you uglier than the gel by disguising you like this," her companion continued. "You only look the more intriguing. I don't wonder at Charles's trying to seduce you."

The color flooded into Jessica's cheeks. She stared at the duchess, mesmerized.

"You must have some character," the old lady said. "I do not believe there are many females who have refused an invitation to Rutherford's bed. And you did it twice! I would give a bag of gold to have seen his face when you did so." She chuckled with what sounded like genuine amusement. "Did he turn quite purple?"

Jessica swallowed. "He acted like a gentleman," she said.

The old lady threw back her head and laughed with open amusement. "I don't believe you know what you say, child," she said. "You mean he behaved as a gentleman is supposed to behave. After he had politely requested that you drop your clothes at the side of his bed, of course. But I am embarrassing you, gel. I have always spoken exactly what was on my mind. I was born for a different calling, the duke often used to tell me, except for one essential fact. I had the mind and the tongue but not the inclination. Now then, my dear, who are you?"

"Jessica Moore, your grace," Jessica said.

"My butler told me that this morning and my grandson yesterday," the duchess said patiently. "I wish to know who Jessica Moore is."

"My father was a clergyman," she said. "He was not a wealthy man. When he died, I was forced to seek employment. I have been governess to Lord Barrie's daughter for two years. I worked hard, ma'am, and tried to do a satisfactory job."

"Did you often walk barefoot in the library at midnight?" the old lady asked with a return of the severity she had shown at the start of their interview. "And with your nightgown on and your hair down your back?"

Jessica bit her lip with mortification. Did Lord Rutherford keep nothing from his grandmother? Did the old lady regarding her so closely know that she had lain in bed with him two nights ago, his hands touching even the most secret parts of her?

"I was forbidden to leave my room after bedtime," she said. "I am afraid that I disobeyed on three occasions during the two years."

"And if I recommend you for employment as a governess again," the duchess said, "will I be accused in perhaps a few months' time of recommending a young woman who likes to tempt the male members of the household and then turn the prude?"

Jessica looked jerkily down at the hands clasped in her lap. "I swear you will not, ma'am," she said. "I have learned my lesson, and I am truly sorry for what I did. Your reproof is well deserved."

"Handsomely said," the duchess commented. "And where was your father's parish, gel?"

Jessica named a place in Gloucestershire.

"Your mother died before him?" the older lady asked.

"When I was but two years old," Jessica said.

"In childbed?"

"Yes," Jessica said. "The baby died too. My brother."

"Hm," the old lady said. "These things happen, gel. What will you do if I fail to help you?"

"I do not know, ma'am," Jessica said, closing her eyes briefly against panic.

"Do you have any alternative to walking the streets?"

Jessica hesitated. "I think I will not be reduced to that," she said.

"Charles?" the old lady asked. "He has offered his protection if I fail him?"

"He gave me his card," Jessica admitted, "and told me I might send to him at any time."

"It's not his style to set up a mistress," the duchess said. "But if he offered, he will keep his promise. You could do worse, child."

"I tore up his card before I reached London," Jessica said.

"But you still think you will not have to walk the streets," the duchess mused.

"Yes, ma'am."

"You have somewhere else to go, then, even though you clearly do not wish to go there."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Well," the duchess said briskly, seeming to have come to some decision, "I shall certainly have to do something for you, my dear, or Charles will never let me forget it. You have the look of your grandmother, you know, to quite a remarkable degree."

"Oh, do I?" Jessica said, looking up pleased that the duchess had committed herself to helping her. "Thank you so much, ma'am."

The dowager duchess sat quietly looking at the eager face across from her until it lost its glow and blanched. The eyes in the pale face grew huge.

"You know? You knew my grandmother?" she whispered.

"It is a rough fate for you, is it not, my dear," the duchess said soothingly, "to have been directed to the house of a woman who my grandson claims knows everyone in the kingdom?"

"But I have my father's name," Jessica said. "You cannot possibly have known him."

"No," the duchess admitted, "but it so happens that your grandmother the marchioness was my particular friend. We made our comeout together, you know-a long time ago, my dear. And indeed, the resemblance between you is almost uncanny. I remember well how very upset she was when her only child-they were not as fortunate as we were, you see; their only child was a gel-insisted on marrying a country parson. I even recall the name Moore, my dear. I have a memory full of such apparently unimportant details. Adam was his given name?"

Jessica nodded, feeling numb.

"And I recall how very miserable poor Mirabel was when your mother died in childbed and your father would not allow the marquess to help at all in your upbringing. Yes, I even remember the name Jessica. Your papa allowed you to visit your grandparents only once a year and for only one week?"

Jessica nodded again.

"And then poor Mirabel died herself," the duchess said, "and I heard no more news of you or your father. You did not feel you could turn to your grandfather for help when your father died?"

Jessica shook her head.

"And you don't wish to tell me the reason why," the old lady said after waiting for a moment. "So be it. So now, what do we do with you, grandchild of my dear friend?"

"Please help me find employment," Jessica said. She felt as if she were viewing the duchess and indeed the salon and herself through a long tunnel. She had not intended that anyone but she should ever know more of her identity than her father's name.

"I hardly think it appropriate for the only granddaughter of the Marquess of Heddingly to take employment as a governess," the duchess said, frowning.

"But it is what I wish," Jessica said, leaning forward and staring anxiously across at the older lady. "There is no alternative, your grace. At least, no alternative that I wish to take."

"Oh, I think there is," the duchess said. "I think it would be quite appropriate for me to entertain the granddaughter of one of the dear friends of my youth. Up from the country to spend the winter with a lonely old woman. Come to meet society. Not quite as exciting as it would be in the spring during the Season, of course, but not bad even so. There are quite sufficient people here during the winter for you to cut quite a dash."

Jessica was on her feet. "Oh, no, ma'am,'" she said. "No. I could not possibly. Please. I did not come here to beg such favors."

"Of course you did not," the dowager duchess said haughtily. "No one has held a dueling pistol against my breast to force me to offer my hospitality. I do so quite freely. But you will find that once I have my heart set on anything, it is almost impossible to cross my will. Save yourself a losing fight, my dear, and sit down again. Tell me where I must send for your trunks. You will move in here today, and I shall have a dressmaker and a hairdresser brought to the house this afternoon. We have to rid you of that dreadful gray and that quite horrid hair style. I suspect it will not be difficult to make a beauty of you. And I would say so even if I were not sure from the fact that Charles tried twice to seduce you."

Jessica blushed and sat down.

The Earl of Rutherford called on his grandmother again during the afternoon of the following day. It was the afternoon of the week when she was known to be at home to callers. His return visit would therefore be less conspicuous, he thought. And realized immediately that if he believed that he was fooling no one but himself. She had known even two days before that his visit was unusually soon after his return from the country. She would know as soon as she saw him today that his interest in Jessica Moore was greater than he had tried to make it appear.

And it irritated him to know that it was so. Why should he care what happened to the woman? He was not really responsible for her. And he had given her the chance of a secure future. Two chances. She would have lived far more comfortably as his mistress than she had ever lived in her life, he would wager. And when she had refused that life, he had sent her to his grandmother. And Grandmama would not let him down. She would find something for Miss Moore.

Why should he be worried, then, worried to the point of scarcely sleeping the night before and of rushing to Berkeley Square for the second time in three days? Why should he be worried that she would not have gone to his grandmother? He fervently hoped that she had. He had an uncomfortable feeling that he was going to be roaming the streets of London, searching all the favorite haunts of prostitutes for the next several weeks if she had not.

Damn that woman! Rutherford thought as he handed his greatcoat, hat, and gloves to a footman and followed the butler upstairs to his grandmother's drawing room. She had stood before him in the parlor of the Blue Peacock Inn the morning after his sleepless night, the little gray governess all over again, her eyes not once directed at anything but the floor, coolly refusing all his most charming and lordly invitations to ride with him in his carriage. It had been almost impossible to imagine, looking at her, that she was the same woman who had lain hot and aroused in his arms for all too brief and unsatisfactory a period the night before.

Damn her! He hoped she had come and that Grandmama had sent her to a remote corner of Wales or Scotland. Then he could put her out of his mind and seek out more grateful female companionship that night.

"Ah, Charles, m'boy," the duchess said when he was announced, "I have been expecting you. I am in the middle of telling these ladies that I am soon to have company. Young granddaughter of one of the dearest friends of my youth. Coming for the winter. I am going to introduce her to society."

"You, Grandmama?" Rutherford stared at her in some surprise, his eyebrows raised.

"Lonely in my old age," she said vaguely. "I shall enjoy it."

It was only later, when the arrival of more visitors led to less generalized conversation that she was able to add for the ears of her grandson only, "Young chit, Charles. Might make a good wife for you, m'boy. I shall expect you to show her some attention."

Rutherford pulled a face. "So far, Grandmama," he said, "I don't thoroughly approve your idea of eligible females. I am sure that with your connections you will be able to marry her off in a fortnight. Especially if her father has money. Did Miss Moore come yesterday?"

"Eh?" she said vaguely. "Oh, your gray governess, Charless. Yes, yes. I have dealt satisfactorily with that matter."

"You have found her a situation?" he asked.

"Yes, yes," she said with a dismissive wave of the hand. "Now about this gel, Charles. She will be new to society, you know. I shall be counting on you to bring her into fashion."

He grimaced. "I suppose that means dancing with her at assemblies, sitting in your box at the opera, and such like," he said. "Well, Grandmama, I suppose one favor deserves another. I shall play the gallant. But only for a few days, mind. If she is from the country, the girl is bound to be a dreadful bore."

"We shall see," the duchess said, rising to her feet and advancing on a pair of new arrivals, one hand extended graciously.