A Very Unusual Governess

Lisette peered round. ‘What a beautiful colour it is in the evening sun,’ she said. ‘And just look at the trees! Green and scarlet, brown, gold—they’re glorious! I think we shall like living here. What do you think, Miss Froom?’

Miss Froom had not recovered her humour. She threw a glance at the house. ‘I doubt very much that I shall,’ she said repressively. ‘I know these old houses, though I have fortunately never had to live in one before. This one looks like all the rest—dark and damp. And those windows will let in the draughts.’ She stared disapprovingly at Pip’s lichen-stained skirt and tumbled curls, and surveyed Lisette with a frown. ‘I can also see that I have a great deal of hard work before me before I achieve the standards I expect in my pupils.’

Mr Barraclough observed the excitement in Pip’s face slowly die. He looked at the shadows in Lisette’s eyes and said abruptly, ‘I am sorry you find the prospect of teaching my nieces so repulsive, Miss Froom. They’ve had—we have all had—a difficult time of late. You were engaged to be responsible for their education, but until their aunt and uncle arrive from the West Indies I had hoped that you would see to their happiness and welfare as well.’

‘Discipline and hard work bring happiness, sir,’ said Miss Froom. ‘That has always been my philosophy, and children are the better for it.’

Mr Barraclough regarded her with a thoughtful frown, but said nothing as the carriage came to a halt in front of shallow steps that led to a massive oak door. He ushered the girls and their governess into a large stone hall, where Mrs Dutton, the housekeeper, was waiting to welcome them.

She took Miss Froom and the girls on a tour of inspection while Edward went into the library, but after a short while the two girls came back alone and joined him there.

‘That was quick!’ he said. ‘Where’s Miss Froom?’

‘She…she said she would lie down for a little,’ said Lisette. ‘She has the headache.’

Pip ran to her uncle and grasped his arm. ‘Edward! Edward, please, please send her away. I don’t like her! She’s horrid!’ she said fiercely.

‘What’s all this? Have you been rude to Miss Froom again?’ asked Edward sternly.

‘She deserved it! She said I had to sleep in a horridly poky room next to her so she would know what I was up to. But I wanted the little corner room! The one in the tower. Why couldn’t I have the tower room?’

Their uncle looked harrassed. ‘That’s not my sphere, Pip, and it’s a very poor reason for this tantrum! Or for being rude again.’

‘It wasn’t that! It wasn’t that at all! She…she’s cruel!’ Pip threw herself on the sofa and burst into tears. Edward swore under his breath and looked on with a frown as Lisette took the child in her arms and comforted her. What the devil had he done to deserve this? He had always prided himself on the ease with which he could handle any woman in practically any situation. But this one tired, lost, little girl defeated him. Confound Julia! Why the hell did she have to break her leg just at this particular time! And what was Henry thinking of to send the girls over without her? He looked at his nieces and his mood softened. With a sigh of resignation he sat down beside them and said, ‘What was it, Lisette? Tell me the whole. Is it true that Miss Froom was so disagreeable?’

Lisette said quietly, ‘I’m afraid so. Miss Froom isn’t at all a kind person. When she refused to let Pip have the tower room, Pip got angry and said that Mama would have wanted her to have it. Miss Froom said…she said she didn’t doubt it. That Philippa was a spoiled little girl and the sooner she learned who was now in charge of her the better.’

‘Miss Froom is tired after the journey. Pip can be confoundedly trying…’

‘She said more than that, Edward. She said that our mama…She said that our mama was dead and wasn’t coming back. And that if Pip carried on being such a naughty little girl she wouldn’t go to heaven to see her mother again.’

‘She said what?’

‘That Mama was dead. It’s true, of course.’ Lisette looked down at the child in her arms. ‘It was cruel of her, though.’

Edward Barraclough looked grimmer than ever and said with formidable calm, ‘That settles it. Your aunt and I have made a mistake. Take Pip into the morning room, Lisette, and stay there with her. One of the maids will bring a drink for you both. You needn’t concern yourselves any further with Miss Froom.’ He strode to the door.

‘What are you going to do?’

‘The carriage is still harnessed up. It can take her to Kingston tonight, and she can take the London stage tomorrow.’

‘No, Edward, you can’t send her off into the night like that.’

‘I can and will! I’ll have that woman out of the house before she says another poisonous word to anyone.’

‘No, you can’t do that. It’s too late. She mustn’t be asked to stay alone in an inn. You must let her spend the night here. Send her away tomorrow.’

Edward scowled. ‘You’re just like your mother—too tender-hearted for your own good, girl.’

‘Please, Edward! Miss Froom may be unkind, but we ought not to be the same.’

Edward was about to refuse, but he looked at Lisette’s face and his expression softened. He said reluctantly, ‘Very well. She can stay the night. Now off with you. I want to speak to Miss Froom.’

Miss Froom departed the next morning with pursed lips, a month’s salary and a carefully worded letter for her agency. Pip was beside herself with glee, but her uncle was not so happy.

‘Stop that war dance, Pip and try to think what on earth we’re to do now! We’re in a mess! Who the devil will look after you now that Miss Froom has gone? I can’t leave you alone here, but I shall have to go to London occasionally.’

‘To see that lady?’

Edward coloured angrily. There had been an unfortunate incident in the hectic rush of the past two days when Pip had accidentally seen him with Louise. What was worse, she had overheard a footman’s comment about her. It was not the sort of thing that should happen and he had been both furious and ashamed. He said now as sternly as he could, ‘I’ve told you to forget that lady, Pip. You’re not supposed to have seen her. If I hear you mention her again, there’ll be serious consequences. Understood?’

‘Yes. I didn’t like the look of her much anyway. So why do you have to go to London?’

‘I have business in London,’ he said curtly.

Lisette, the peacemaker, saw that her uncle’s patience was rapidly wearing thin. She said to Pip, ‘Edward looks after our money, Pip. Not just his own but all the family’s. And he has talks with important people at the Foreign Office in London. He really does have to go back sometimes.’

Pip was unabashed. ‘All right, Edward. You’ll have to send for another governess, then. But choose a young one! A pretty one.’

Edward shook his head and said with decision, ‘On no account! You’re too much of a handful, midget. I’ll choose someone with her mind on her work, not some pretty flibberty-gibbet whose sole aim is to set her cap at the first eligible bachelor who happens along. She’d be more nuisance than she’s worth.’ He sighed and went on, ‘I’ll write off to the agency today, but it will be at least a week before we hear anything. And then there’ll be interviews…It means I shall have to postpone some important meetings, but it can’t be helped.’

Lisette followed him out of the room. ‘Edward, I’m sorry we’re such a burden to you,’ she said. ‘I’m sure we could manage without a governess for a while. I can look after Pip.’

Edward’s habitually sardonic expression softened into a rare smile. Much as he chafed at the restraints that had been forced on him by the care of his two nieces, he was very fond of them both. Lisette’s sadness worried him. She was too young to be so serious. ‘Pip needs a firm hand and a lot of attention,’ he said gently. ‘And I want you to have fewer things to worry about, not more.’

‘Pip will always listen to someone she likes. She still misses Mama and Papa. She needs kindness as well as firmness, Edward.’

‘Leave it to me, Lisette. I’ll make sure I find someone who will know how to deal with her. Not another Miss Froom, I promise.’

The following Tuesday, blissfully unaware that the Barracloughs had already taken up residence, Lady Octavia Petrie said goodbye to her father and Cousin Marjorie, took up her groom, and set off for Wychford with a sense of excitement out of all proportion to the event. Apart from one stop to rest the horses, she wasted no time, and when she arrived at the gates of the house the hour was still comparatively early. She looked up the drive, which led away curving and twisting through an avenue of trees. It was very strange. She felt a tug of recognition, a stirring of adventure. The place seemed to beckon to her…

‘Take the gig back to the inn in the village, Will,’ she said making up her mind. ‘It isn’t far to the house and it’s a glorious day. I’ll walk the rest of the way. You can fetch me in a couple of hours.’

When the groom demurred Octavia said impatiently, ‘Don’t be such an old woman! I shall be perfectly safe. Mr Walters has engaged a full staff for the house, including a housekeeper. I can’t believe there’ll be any villains among them, can you? Off you go!’

Octavia watched Will’s familiar figure disappear down the road, then walked through the gates. The weariness of spirit that had dogged her for months slowly lifted as she walked up the drive, and she was filled with a sensation of release, a feeling that she was in an enchanted world. She smiled. Perhaps she was under the spell of the Witch of Wychford! On either side were magnificent old trees, some of them with branches hanging low, their foliage touched with gold, scarlet and brown with glimpses of a deep blue sky above. Here and there a bright midday sun flashed and sparkled through the leaves, dazzling her with fairy gold. She walked on towards the house, gazing about her with delight. It was as if she had drunk a glass of champagne, or been wafted off to a land of fairy tales…She nearly jumped out of her skin as a voice from above said,

‘He won’t have you!’

Octavia stopped and looked up. The sun blinded her and it was a moment or two before she could make out an elfin figure perched on one of the branches. ‘I beg your pardon?’

‘He won’t have you. You’re too young and pretty.’

‘How very kind of you to say so!’

‘He said you’d be more trouble than you’re worth.’

‘Did he, indeed? How was he to know that? Though I’m not sure I fully understa—’

‘He’s looking for another Miss Froom, but I wish he’d have you. You look far more interesting.’

‘Er…thank you again. I think.’ Octavia pulled herself together and made an effort to begin a more sensible conversation. She asked, ‘Forgive me, but may I ask who you are?’

‘I’m Pip. Philippa Barraclough.’

‘What?’

‘It’s rude to say “what”. Miss Froom got very cross with me for saying it.’

‘But…but what are you doing here?’ stammered Octavia. ‘You’re not supposed—’

‘You mean I should be inside? On a glorious day like this?’

‘Oh, no! That’s not it. No sensible person would want to be inside on a day like today. That’s not what I meant—’

‘I’m exploring. We’ve only been here a few days, and yesterday I explored the other side of the house. It’s a beautiful house. Have you seen its chimneys?’

Octavia gave up trying to be sensible. She was enjoying this bizarre conversation. It all seemed to be part of the madness of the day. ‘No,’ she said. ‘Will you show them to me?’

A little girl dropped out of the tree. Black curls tumbled over a pointed face. The child was thin, but crackled with energy and spirits. Great grey eyes, sparkling with life, gazed at Octavia, examining her with critical interest. What she saw seemed to satisfy her. ‘Come on!’ she said, and set off.

Octavia laughed. ‘Right!’ she said and followed.

Pip suddenly stopped. ‘Look!’

Octavia obediently looked, then gasped with pleasure. On the other side of a small lake lay Wychford, a rose-red house nestling among lawns and trees, its windows twinkling in the sun. Its somewhat crooked timbers and a small round tower to one side gave it a lopsided, slightly quizzical look. A friendly house, an enticing house…a magic house. And on top…‘Barley-sugar sticks!’ she cried.

Pip looked immensely pleased. ‘I knew you’d recognise them,’ she said. ‘Oh, I do wish Edward would have you! He’s at his wits’ end, you know.’

‘I’m sorry to hear it. Why is that?’ asked Octavia.

‘Because we’ve lost our governess. The last one. But I wouldn’t be rude to you.’

‘Is that why she went? Because you were rude?’

‘No. Edward dismissed her. Sent her away without a character,’ said Pip with relish. ‘She was unkind. Lisette didn’t like her, either, and she usually likes everyone.’

‘Lisette is your sister?’

‘Yes. She’s much older than I am. I’m ten. Do you believe in lists?’

‘What kind of lists? Laundry? Shopping? Christmas presents?’

‘No! Lists of facts to learn—the kings of England, for example.’

‘Definitely not!’ said Octavia firmly. ‘That’s a very boring way to learn anything.’

‘I knew you were all right! I must go and find Edward. He simply must engage you!’

‘As what?’

‘As our governess, of course. That’s why you’re here, isn’t it?’

‘Oh, no! I—’

But Pip had darted off like a dragonfly.

‘You mustn’t be annoyed with Pip.’

Startled yet again, Octavia swung round, and began to wonder if she really was in a fairy tale, and this the enchanted princess. Standing behind her was a girl with one of the loveliest faces Octavia had ever seen. She had black hair like her sister, but her eyes were a deep purple-blue, the colour of violets. Every feature was perfect: a generous brow, a beautifully straight nose, delicately modelled cheekbones, rose-petal complexion, softly curving lips…The girl looked shy, and bore an indefinable air of sadness. The impulse to comfort her was almost overwhelming. A faint flush stained the girl’s cheeks as Octavia stared.

‘I…I didn’t mean to startle you. I’m sorry. Only I’m sure Pip didn’t mean to be rude. It’s just that she sometimes forgets her manners when she is in a hurry. My name is Lisette. Lisette Barraclough.’

‘I’m Octavia Petrie. How do you do.’

They exchanged curtsies. ‘Won’t you come in?’ Lisette asked. ‘I’m not sure it will do any good, Edward seems determined to have someone older, and he seldom changes his mind. But I’d like you to meet him.’

Octavia was not sure what stopped her from telling Lisette the truth about her visit to Wychford. Every canon of good manners demanded it, but she held back, intrigued by the situation, and highly interested in the two girls—the one so bright and spirited, the other so lovely, and so sad. So she said nothing as they set off up the drive.

‘I expect you’re wondering why we need another governess,’ said Lisette. ‘Edward engaged someone in London—someone who was very highly recommended to my aunt by the Marchioness of Ledbury.’

Octavia had met the Ledburys. No wonder Pip didn’t like Miss Froom, she thought. No one who had the approval of such a self-satisfied windbag as Lady Ledbury and her awful children could hope to please a lively spirit like Philippa Barraclough!

Lisette went on, ‘But hardly two days had passed before it was clear that Pip and Miss Froom would never get on, so Edward sent her away.’

‘Without a character. I heard.’

‘Is that what Pip told you? I’m afraid she was just romancing. Edward gave her a perfectly good reference.’

Octavia nodded. ‘I rather thought that might be the case. But what did your aunt have to say about it?’

‘She’s not here. She broke her leg and is still in Antigua. She won’t be able to travel for some time, so there’s only Edward here to look after us at the moment, and he is a very busy man. That’s why we need someone else so urgently.’

‘I see. In that case, wasn’t it rather hasty of your uncle to send Miss Froom away?’

‘Perhaps. But once Edward makes up his mind about anything he does things right off. He would have sent Miss Froom away the first night we got here, even though it was very late. He can be quite ruthless when he chooses. But I persuaded him to wait till the morning.’

Octavia began to dislike ‘Edward’. ‘Poor Miss Froom! To be sent away so summarily—’

‘Oh, no! She really wasn’t at all kind, Miss Petrie. But he did give her a month’s salary and saw to it that she was taken all the way to London.’

‘I suppose that helped. But do tell me. Who is “Edward”? Mr Barraclough?’

‘Yes. He’s our uncle, but he told us years ago to call him Edward. We are a great burden to him. At least for the next eight or nine weeks until our aunt arrives.’

‘I see.’

Lisette fell silent and Octavia was left to her own thoughts. The situation was becoming clearer. The two girls were not the Barracloughs’ daughters, but their nieces, and an accident had delayed Mrs Barraclough’s return to England. A governess had been engaged, but Edward Barraclough had decided to get rid of her, and was now looking urgently for someone else until his wife arrived. For about two months…Just two months…

They had reached the lawn in front of the house.

‘Miss Petrie, would you care to wait here for a moment? There’s a seat in the shade over there. Or shall I take you inside? Edward asked me to deliver a message to our housekeeper, and I should really do it straight away. It will only take me a minute.’

‘I think I should like to stay here,’ said Octavia. ‘This is all so beautiful…’

‘You think so, too? Miss Froom said the house looked dark and damp.’

‘Did she? Then the house didn’t like her,’ said Octavia without thinking. ‘That’s why she had to go.’

Lisette gave her a puzzled look, but didn’t stay to ask what she had meant. She ran across the lawn and into the house, and Octavia was left to contemplate her inheritance…It was quite extraordinary—Wychford seemed to be smiling! How could a house smile? Of course it couldn’t! It was just that the window-panes were twinkling in the sunlight.

She had a sudden vision of her aunt’s gipsy-black eyes staring at her, then turning to rest thoughtfully first on her father, and then on Lady Dorney, last spring. What had been in Aunt Carstairs’s mind? Here at Wychford Octavia suddenly saw what an excellent thing it would be if her father and his cousin decided to marry. They had always been close, and Lady Dorney was a caring, loving woman who needed companionship and someone to look after. Yes, it would be ideal. But it would never happen. Papa was too set in his ways—it simply wouldn’t occur to him to ask.

The windows were still twinkling, still reminding her of those black eyes. What a strange house it was! Octavia’s thoughts returned to her father. What if Lady Dorney could be persuaded to take her place for a while—two months, say? It might occur to her papa that his Cousin Marjorie was more comfortable to be with, more patient, easier to talk to, someone nearer to his own generation…

Two months. Would it be long enough? She was sorely tempted to try. She liked these Barraclough girls, and felt she could do something for them, especially as their uncle seemed to be something of a martinet. Should she go along with their assumption that she was a prospective governess?

Octavia jumped up and took a firm hold of herself. Twinkling windows, gipsy-black eyes, marriages, pretending to be a governess—where was her common sense? It was a mad idea! Her day of freedom had gone to her head! She would go inside to meet Edward Barraclough, and would inform him of her true identity before the mistake went any further. As Lisette approached her across the lawn the sun seemed to go in and Wychford’s window-panes were dull. There was an air of reproach about the house and Octavia had an absurd feeling of guilt.

Lisette led her through the oak door and into the hall. Octavia kept a firm hold on her imagination as she looked about her. The house was not huge and the hall was of manageable size, with a large refectory table down the middle and a fireplace at each end. It had a superb plaster ceiling and two massive, symmetrically placed, brass chandeliers. A handsome oak staircase led to the upper storey, with a gallery leading to the bed-chambers. But Lisette led her through the hall and on into a room at the far end. This was some kind of parlour or morning room, and it was reassuringly normal. A fire burned invitingly in the hearth, and the furniture was obviously meant for comfort rather than style. Octavia was invited to sit down.

‘I…er…I don’t think I will yet,’ said Octavia. ‘Not before I see your uncle.’

The door opened and Pip burst in. ‘Here she is, Edward!’ she cried. ‘Please say she’s suitable!’

A tall, broad-shouldered man followed her into the room. Though he was younger than she had imagined, he looked…dangerous, with an uncompromising chin and a hard mouth. He was quite handsome, though his nose looked as if it might have been broken in a fight. Black hair, clear grey eyes, and a tanned complexion. A small scar lifted the outer corner of one eyebrow and gave him a faintly devilish look. His expression was not welcoming. Oh, yes! thought Octavia. If this was a fairy tale, then here was the ogre!

Mr Barraclough stopped and gazed at her for a moment, coolly assessing her. Octavia became conscious that her person was slight, and not very tall, that her dress was unimpressive, that one or two of her honey-gold curls had escaped from her bonnet and were now tumbling over her shoulders. She flushed angrily under his gaze and wished she had taken time to tidy herself. As he came towards her his stride was arrogantly athletic, his air one of impatience.

‘Edward Barraclough,’ he said curtly. ‘May I have your name?’

‘Certainly, sir. I am Octavia Petrie.’

‘Well, Miss Petrie, I don’t know how you heard so quickly about the post of governess here, but I’m afraid you’ve had a wasted journey. You’re not at all what I’m looking for.’

‘You are quite wrong—’

‘Am I? Whatever you may have said to charm my niece, give me one good reason why I should employ a woman who arrives on my doorstep—’

‘I don’t wish—’

Mr Barraclough swept on. ‘Arrives on my doorstep without warning, hoping to be engaged on the spot.’

Octavia forgot her embarrassment. ‘I should have thought that was exactly what you required, sir,’ she said tartly. ‘From what your nieces say, you need someone rather urgently. Or am I mistaken?’

Mr Barraclough stopped. He looked at her again, this time speculatively. ‘No, it’s true that we need someone…’ After a pause he said slowly, ‘Perhaps I was wrong. Perhaps you’re not the pretty featherhead you look. You sound mighty sure of yourself.’

‘Featherhead!’ Octavia took a deep breath. ‘Really, sir! I assure you I am far from being a featherhead. Nor, unlike others I have met, am I a blockhead! Permit me to tell you—’

Mr Barraclough interrupted her yet again, but to Octavia’s astonishment, instead of taking offence at her words, he laughed and nodded in approval as he said, ‘That tone was fierce enough…And you’re quick. There might be more to you than I thought.’

Octavia replied, ‘I can be much fiercer than that, I assure you, sir! Not that I wish—’

‘Edward, do say she may stay! Please!’ called Pip from her perch on the window-sill. ‘She doesn’t believe in lists. She wouldn’t need to be fierce with us. I’m sure I could behave well if she was my governess.’

‘It is only for two months, Edward.’

Lisette’s intervention seemed to give Mr Barraclough pause. He looked at Lisette sharply. ‘You’d like her to stay, too? It isn’t just because you’re sorry for her?’

Lisette shook her head and said emphatically, ‘I think she would be absolutely right for us.’

Octavia could see that Mr Barraclough was impressed by Lisette’s words, and decided that it was high time she said something. ‘I’m sorry, but I must tell y—’