Carola Dunn (8 page)

The groom sprang up behind, and Lord Ashe forebore to question Lissa further. She sensed, though, that he was not satisfied with her responses.

To distract him, to make him forget his curiosity, she commented upon the fine day and the flourishing market gardens on either side of the high road. In truth, it was a pleasure to leave the mean streets behind. For some time, she had lacked the energy to walk farther than she need.

Lord Ashe, half his attention on the busy traffic, responded amiably to her remarks. When Lissa, exclaiming at the splendid view from Westminster Bridge, mentioned Mr. Wordsworth’s beautiful description of the scene, he quoted the first few lines.

  “‘Earth has not anything to show more fair:

  Dull would he be of soul who could pass by

   A sight so touching in its majesty.’

You enjoy poetry, Miss Findlay?”

“Yes. No!” Bother! An actress was unlikely to be acquainted with non-dramatic poetry, yet a governess ought to be familiar at least with the major poets. Oh what a tangled web! she thought, wishing William Wordsworth’s name had never passed her lips.

“Some poets better than others?” His tone was grave, but the glance he turned on her showed a glint of laughter in his eyes.

“Yes,” she said, grateful yet uneasy.

“My sister does not expect you to instruct Colin in the academic subjects, Latin and Greek and such,” he continued, “so much as to provide sympathetic discipline.”

“Oh, but I...that is, I should be happy to read poetry and other English books with him, as I do with Peter and Michael.”

“Of course. Your brothers are to be Colin’s companions in study as well as in play.”

Though nothing could please her more, she was too uncertain to rejoice. Lord Ashe seemed to consider his sister’s approval a foregone conclusion, but as the curricle rolled through the smart streets of St. James’s and crossed Piccadilly, Lissa grew more and more apprehensive.

Even if Lady Orton succumbed to her brother’s influence far enough to hire an unknown ex-actress, she might well resent his interference. The lady of the house could make a governess’s life miserable in a host of petty ways. Or she might attack Lissa through Peter and Michael. The boys were good-natured and well behaved, but no angels. Suppose her ladyship insisted on their being punished for every minor infraction, perhaps even blamed them for her own son’s misbehaviour?

There was another worry: Lissa was by no means sure she could manage young Lord Orton. From what her brothers said, the child was more in need of discipline than sympathy, whereas Peter and Michael had needed her loving kindness to soften a harsh discipline.

“You are very silent,” Lord Ashe observed, drawing rein before a gracious brick house with stone pediments and pilasters. “Daphne is no dragon, I promise you.”

“What if she does not like me?” Lissa said in a small voice.

“That is a bridge we shall cross if and when we come to it.”

His use of we was at once comforting and disturbing. She had never before met anyone who so confused her emotions, but she had no time to analyse the feeling as he handed her down from the curricle.

Five stories from basement to garret, 39 Dover Street was large for a town house, with two wide, sparkling clean sash windows on either side of the fanlighted front door. Surely there was room enough for three young boys to romp on a rainy day without excessively disturbing the other inhabitants. Altogether the environs were vastly more healthful for growing lads than the grim, grimy streets of Lambeth.

Lissa prayed Lady Orton would offer her the position. For her brothers’ sake, she was prepared to endure Lord Ashe’s attempts on her virtue--if any. This morning his demeanour was thoroughly gentlemanly and unexceptionable.

Perhaps she had grown too thin and wan to attract him. The thought ought to have come as pure relief, but she could not deny a shade of chagrin.

He ushered her into the house with the merest touch on her elbow. Her shiver was surely due to coming in out of the sun into the vestibule, floored with coldly gleaming green-veined marble, lit by a domed skylight far above. She pulled her shawl more closely about her as a haughty, black-clad butler approached from the nether regions.

“Her ladyship is in the front parlour, my lord. Her ladyship desires your lordship’s presence while she interviews Miss Findlay.” With a stiffly regal nod he acknowledged Lissa’s presence.

“Thank you, Halsey. Bring tea and biscuits to the parlour, if you please.”

A flash of startlement crossed the butler’s broad, impassive face. Supplying refreshments to an applicant for a post in the household was obviously unheard of. “Very good, my lord,” he said woodenly.

“I brought Miss Findlay away before her breakfast,” Lord Ashe condescended to explain, mendaciously, “and mine was much interrupted, you may recall.”

“Indeed, my lord.”

“The boys are in the schoolroom?”

“So I believe, my lord.”

“Excellent. Come, Miss Findlay.”

Lissa was far too nervous to note the furnishings of the parlour, though she received an impression of elegance combined with comfort. She could not suppress a gasp of surprise as a very pretty girl turned from the window and came towards them. Capless, dressed in emerald green in the height of fashion, with the new, wider skirts and a profusion of bows and rouleaux, Lord Ashe’s sister looked scarcely twenty.

“I thought...From what the boys said, I thought Lord Orton was near Peter’s age.”

“He is. Daphne, may I present Miss Findlay? She finds it impossible to believe you are old enough to be Colin’s mama.”

Lissa lowered her gaze and curtsied, flushing. A personal remark was impertinent, however flattering, and hardly likely to endear her to Lady Orton. Besides, a peek showed that her ladyship, close to, was clearly at least in her mid twenties, so she would take it as insincere flattery.

But Lady Orton smiled complacently. “You are too kind, Miss Findlay,” she said in a soft, sweet voice. “I was certain worry over Colin must have given me a dozen grey hairs by now. But gracious! you do not look at all like an actress, such a poor little dab of a thing. Are you old enough to be a governess? Do you think Colin will mind you?”

Sustaining with fortitude the blow to her already minimal vanity, Lissa told her, “I am nineteen, my lady. As for how Lord Orton and I shall deal together, I can but try.”

“You will not be over strict with him? Colin’s health is not robust, I fear.”

“I believe strictness should be tempered with kindness,” Lissa said with more emphasis than she had intended.

“Oh yes, what Colin needs is kindness and attention.”

“And companions his own age,” put in Lord Ashe firmly.

“Yes, indeed. I have met your brothers, Miss Findlay. They seem amazingly well-bred.”

Lissa felt her cheeks redden again. “You see us in reduced circumstances, ma’am. My brothers are of...respectable birth.”

“And you also, I can tell.” Lady Orton seemed to have dismissed the unfortunate, not to say disgraceful, connection with the stage. “I trust you are able to start immediately? Poor Colin so hates waiting about in the shops, and I simply must go out to buy a bonnet to match this dress. I shall have to wear that old thing this morning.” She waved at a chair where reposed a charming Leghorn hat with three white ostrich plumes.

“Immediately, ma’am?” Lissa asked, taken aback. “You mean this instant? You mean you wish to engage me?”

“To be sure. At least for a month’s trial. You cannot conceivably be of less use than the last half dozen who came to me with splendid references. As for ‘this instant,’ I have a few minutes before I need depart. Pray come and be seated, and I shall tell you all about my darling child.” She moved towards an amber velvet sofa.

“I...I must fetch my things, ma’am, and give my landlady notice.”

“Write a note,” proposed Lord Ashe, who appeared vastly amused by his sister’s precipitate decision, “and I shall send for your belongings.”

Thinking of her mother’s pearls under the floorboards, Lissa shook her head. “Thank you, sir, but I prefer to go myself later, whenever it is convenient for Lady Orton.” Ought she to refer to ‘her ladyship’? Her still proud spirit balked at such an admission of servitude, but she was, after all, accepting a position as a servant, however superior.

Lord Ashe gave her a thoughtful look; the viscountess merely said, “Yes, go later, pray. I shall take Colin to pay one or two calls later. Oh, and you will have to discuss your salary with my brother, who is Colin’s guardian.”

“Indeed, ma’am, I cannot accept a salary when my brothers are to be given a home.” She spoke to Lady Orton but turned to Lord Ashe, suddenly afraid she had misunderstood, or the offer of a home for Peter and Michael had been withdrawn.

“Fustian!” he said roughly. “I ought to offer your boys a salary for acting as my nephew’s companions and models, for he has not half their manners. I daresay you would refuse it, however, so I shall merely provide a little pocket money and decent clothes.”

“Clothes? We cannot accept clothes!”

“I shall not propose to dress you, Miss Findlay, but Lord Orton’s constant companions must be properly attired.” His manner became businesslike. “That is not negotiable. As for you, you shall have the same as I paid your predecessors. Is that satisfactory?”

More than generous, considering her lack of credentials, yet his sudden coolness set Lissa at a distance, employer to employee--for which she ought to be still more grateful. “Yes, sir,” she acquiesced quietly.

“Apply to Voss, my secretary. I shall instruct him to pay you a month in advance. My carriage is at your disposal to take you to Lambeth when you are ready. Just tell Halsey or one of the footmen to have it brought round.” He turned to his sister. “I shall leave you to expound your requirements, Daphne. Do not, I beg you, place too many restrictions on the child.”

“He is sickly, Rob.”

“I know, my dear, but he will never grow stronger without reasonable exercise.”

Lord Ashe’s patient tone suggested this was no new debate. Whether it would have continued along well worn grooves Lissa did not discover, for the door opened and Halsey announced, “Lord Quentin Teague, my lady.”

Aghast, Lissa shrank back. Lord Ashe looked dismayed. Lord Quentin, catching sight of her, looked both thunderstruck and thunderous.

“What the deuce...?” he started.

“Lord Quentin!” Picking up the Leghorn hat as she passed, Lady Orton floated gracefully to meet him, her other hand held out in welcome. “I have found a new governess for Colin. I am in great hopes that Miss Findlay will suit him exactly.”

Bowing over her hand, Lord Quentin made a gargling sound, produced perhaps by a variety of emotions combined with an excessively high collar.

“How kind of you to come so quickly, Lord Quentin. You know I rely upon your judgement.” Lady Orton glanced back at Lissa and, setting the hat on her head, tranquilly announced as she tied the ribbons, “I am going to purchase a bonnet now, Miss Findlay. Lord Quentin always advises me. We shall talk later.”

“And I’ll have a word with you later, Ashe!” The dandy’s eyes popped belligerently in his crimson, apoplectic face.

“Later, by all means.” Lord Ashe sounded almost as tranquil as his sister, but there was a warning note in his voice as he added, “Nothing need be said until then, I believe.”

“Certainly not!” With exaggerated solicitude Lord Quentin ushered the oblivious Lady Orton towards the door.

“Come along, Miss Findlay, if you please,” said Lord Ashe in a peremptory tone. “I see it is left to me to present you to my nephew.”

Lissa hesitated. She wanted to discuss this ominous event, or rather, to beg him for reassurance that all was not spoilt. But he waited impatiently, holding the door. She hurried after the others.

Lord Quentin and Lady Orton were already stepping through the front door, her ladyship smiling up at her escort as she pulled on her gloves. They were obviously on the friendliest terms. No doubt he could persuade the easily influenced lady that hiring an ex-actress as governess was unthinkable. He might even tell her Lissa was her brother’s mistress.

Lissa looked up pleadingly at Lord Ashe. “What...?”

“The schoolroom is on the second floor, Miss Findlay,” he interrupted her, indicating with a slight motion of his head the butler, closing the front door, and a maroon-liveried footman just arriving with a tray. To the latter he said, “Bring that up to the schoolroom, William.”

“At once, my lord.” The footman removed himself towards the backstairs.

As Lissa and Lord Ashe mounted the main staircase, she held her tongue, very much aware now of the butler crossing the hall below. The servants could make her life very uncomfortable if they discovered her disreputable past. Should they gossip about it, they could even make their employers’ lives uncomfortable among the Ton, though not half so uncomfortable as Lord Quentin might.

Lord Ashe’s thoughts ran on the same lines. “My groom will not talk,” he said, leading the way up the narrower flight to the second floor. “Your brothers are discreet, are they not? They have not mentioned your past profession to Colin, I believe.”

“They have learnt that some things are best not spoken of. It is Lord Quentin who concerns me.”

“You may leave Teague to me. He will not spread gossip which could harm Daphne, since he professes to love her.”

“To love her!” Lissa exclaimed, astonished.

“To wish to marry her, at least,” he said dryly.

“But it was his pursuit which drove me to reconsider your offer. Of the post of governess,” she clarified hurriedly. “Why does he go looking for a...a mistress if he is in love with Lady Orton?”

“What a green child you are! Teague sees no conflict between the pursuit of my sister and the pursuit of ladybirds, a not uncommon attitude.” Lord Ashe glanced back to frown down at Lissa. “He was harassing you?”

“He guessed from my clothes that you had not...not....”

“Taken you into keeping? This is the very devil! I wager he suspects I mean to set you up in my own house under my sister’s very eyes.”