From Governess to Society Bride

His eyes gleamed with amusement. ‘Have it your way.’ He set his tall hat securely on his head and swung himself back in the saddle on his prancing beast. ‘Good day to you.’

He kicked his horse into motion. His laughter drifted back to her, his mockery infuriating her yet further. She stamped her foot and glared after him, muttering all kinds of threats under her breath. She had never met a man who had irritated her as he had just done and it chafed her sorely to consider his flawless success.

It was a glorious spring day. The sun had risen out of a broad expanse of opal mist, and scraps of cloud floated like spun gauze in the sky. Ash and sycamore, cherry and lilac trees were bursting into full flower, and trumpet-headed daffodils and clusters of primroses filled beds and borders. The air had a trace of freshness in it, a breeze blowing across Hyde Park from the river beyond. The park was quiet, save for a skylark singing high above and a few people taking an early morning constitutional, including a young woman walking aimlessly along the paths with two small girls trailing behind her.

Seated on a bench watching her five-year-old daughter, Estelle, running happily between the flower beds pursued by Jasper, a Labrador pup that was a recent addition to the Seagrove household, Eve sighed and looked down at her hands in her lap. Why did she feel so despondent? What was the matter with her? Why did her life seem to be so limited? She had her health. She had a good friend in Beth Seagrove. She was not unattractive and, thanks to her dear deceased father, eventually she would have more money than she would know what to do with. She was reasonably clever and had a broad base of interests. Everyone was always telling her how lucky she was to have Estelle, whom she adored. That should really be enough for anyone—but it wasn’t. There had to be more that she could do with her life, something else to absorb her time and energies.

Tonight she was to attend a private party at Lady Ellesmere’s house in Curzon Street. These affairs where most of the faces were familiar were more to her taste than the more established venues, and she really did enjoy attending them with Beth and her husband. However, Eve was determined to find something to do to earn her keep until her father’s money was made available to her and she could look for somewhere else to live.

Turning her head, she looked at the young woman with the children. She was perhaps eighteen or nineteen. Her clothes were of good quality, but plain grey and unadorned—the same clothes a nursemaid would wear. Her face was pale and dark rings circled her eyes—she really didn’t look at all well. She was seated on the bench adjacent to Eve’s and her head was lowered on to her chest. Her shaking shoulders indicated that she was weeping very quietly.

The two little girls, her young charges, stood in front of her and stared at her. Their faces showed confusion and they were clearly anxious and frightened. The youngest child picked up on her mood and started to cry and shrank into the girl next to her.

‘Don’t cry, Sarah,’ the eldest girl said to the woman on the bench. ‘It will be all right.’

Her words seemed to calm the young woman, not because she was able to believe them but because of the sweet unselfishness of the child uttering them. Raising her head, she smiled at the child but her shoulders remained drooped in dejection.

Eve stood up. Fishing a handkerchief out of her pocket, she went to the unhappy trio. ‘Can I be of help?’ she asked, directing the question at the woman while bending down and smiling at the weeping child. ‘Here, let me wipe your face.’ Gently she dabbed at the tears of the child, who was looking up at her with solemn light blue eyes that reminded her of a wounded puppy. ‘What are your names?’ she asked.

‘I am Sophie,’ the older girl replied politely, ‘and this is my sister Abigail. Abigail is three, nearly four, and I’m five.’

‘Is that so? Well, I’m pleased to meet you both,’ Eve said, thinking what pretty children they were. Both had heart-shaped faces and glossy dark brown curls and were dressed in identical blue dresses. Looking towards where Estelle was playing, Eve waved her over. ‘Estelle, while I sit and talk to…?’ She looked enquiringly at the young woman.

‘Sarah, Sarah Lacy,’ she provided quietly.

‘While I talk to Miss Lacy, why don’t you take Sophie and Abigail to play with Jasper—would you like that?’ she asked the two little girls. They nodded, looking shyly at Estelle, but not moving until Sarah had given them her permission.

‘It’s all right, children. You can go. I can see you from here.’

Typical of Estelle, who was accustomed to playing with Beth’s two boisterous boys, she held out her hand to Abigail, and the three of them chased over the grass after a staggering Jasper, who stopped suddenly and sat down in a heap of tumbled legs.

Smiling, Eve sat next to the young woman. The poor girl was obviously not well. Her skin was pale and her soft grey eyes had a wild, almost desperate look about them.

‘I hope you didn’t mind me suggesting that your charges play with my daughter. The puppy is quite harmless.’ The young woman shook her head. ‘My name is Eve Brody, by the way.’

‘No, I don’t mind. I’m their nursemaid. It’s good for them to be with other children. They so rarely are, poor mites.’ Lowering her head, she stifled a sob. ‘I’m sorry…’ she began, then broke off miserably.

‘It’s all right, Sarah,’ Eve said, moving closer to her. ‘Are you ill?’

Unable to meet the kind stranger’s eyes, Sarah looked down at her fingers twisting her handkerchief in her lap. ‘I’ve just got a bit of a headache, that’s all,’ she answered shyly.

‘Have you seen a doctor? Perhaps he can give you something that will help to make you feel better.’

Sarah shook her head and sniffed. ‘I’ll be all right. I feel better than I did.’

‘Then why are you crying? You look quite distraught.’

‘To tell you the truth, miss, I’ve been at my wits’ end these past weeks. I don’t know what to do. Really I don’t.’

‘Why is that?’

‘Mark, my young man, lives and works as head groomsman at a big house in Surrey. He’s asked me to marry him, but it would mean leaving my job—and the children.’

‘What’s so terrible about that? Surely there is someone else to care for them—their mother?’

‘They have no mother. My master, Lord Stainton, the children’s father, is in the middle of closing down the house, which is why I’m out with them so early—to get them away from the upheaval. Workmen are all over the place and his lordship isn’t in the best of tempers. Apart from myself and the housekeeper, most of the servants have been dismissed, and very soon we are to move to Lord Stainton’s country estate in Oxfordshire. I haven’t told Mark yet and I’m dreading it. He doesn’t understand, you see, the bond I have with the children.’

‘If your position means so much to you, then why doesn’t your young man go with you?’

‘Lord Stainton can’t afford to take on more staff. His lordship’s affairs really are in quite a bad way, which is why he has to sell his London house.’

‘Even so, his problem is not yours, Sarah. Lord Stainton must find someone else to look after his children. It shouldn’t be too difficult. I’m sure there are lots of young ladies with the right credentials who would jump at the chance.’

‘I know—but there has been so much heartache in their young lives that I hate the thought of deserting them. They’ve been in my charge since Abigail was a year old. I can’t bear to leave them. It will break my heart—and theirs—but I know I must.’

‘Your concern is commendable, Sarah, but you do have to think of yourself.’

Estelle’s laughter came to them from across the grass. Eve’s eyes were drawn towards the sound, seeing her daughter rolling on the grass with Jasper on top of her licking her face, while Sophie and Abigail looked on, reticent to join in, but smiling none the less. Concerned, she fixed her attention on the young woman by her side.

‘You really do look quite poorly. Perhaps you should go home and lie down for a while,’ Eve suggested.

Sarah shook her head. ‘That’s impossible, although I really should be getting back.’ She stood up, putting one hand to her head and the other grasping the back of the bench as she swayed slightly. ‘Oh, dear. I do feel quite dizzy.’

Standing up, Eve took her arm. ‘Come, I’ll walk back with you. I can’t let you go by yourself.’

‘Oh, no. You’ve been very kind, but I’ve imposed on your time long enough.’

‘I insist. Besides, I have nothing better to do. Where do you live?’

‘Not too far away, just across the park in Upper Brook Street.’

‘Then it is not far from Berkeley Street, which is where I live. Come, children,’ Eve called. ‘Estelle, you must carry Jasper.’ She smiled as she watched her daughter bend down and pick a wriggling Jasper up off the grass and tuck him beneath her arm.

Stainton House was certainly in a state of upheaval. Workmen swarmed about all over the place and furniture was being either covered with dustsheets or loaded on to wagons in the street. Holding the children’s hands, Eve and Sarah went inside. The size of the house surprised and impressed Eve. With its white-and-gold décor, she could well imagine how elegant it must have looked before the workforce moved in.

Eve was about to say her farewells to Sarah and the children when Jasper broke free of his captor and landed on the floor. Excited by the new environment and noise, the little dog bounded yelping loudly up the broad sweep of the staircase rising gracefully from the centre of the hall.

‘Don’t worry,’ Sarah said, having recovered a little from her earlier discomfort. ‘I’ll go after him.’

The three children went and sat halfway up the stairs, watching the workmen with rapt expressions on their faces. Eve stepped aside to let two men pass carrying a gold-and-green striped sofa in the direction of the street, and turned when a voice barked out, ‘Bloody hell, man, be careful! That portrait is worth a small fortune. Any damage and the buyer will refuse to take it.’

Eve strode over to the owner of the remark—a jacket-less, dark, forbidding figure, his grey breeches moulding his muscular legs and thighs, his white shirt open at his tanned throat, and his hair as black as a panther’s pelt. Her face was a mask of indignation.

‘Do you have to swear in front of the children?’ she remarked haughtily. She saw his shoulders stiffen at the sound of her voice and when he spun round and his eyes sliced over her, she could almost feel the effort he was exerting to keep his rage under control. The man had ramrod posture and an aura of exacting competence, and Eve almost collapsed when she saw his face—it was as hard and forbidding as a granite sculpture and he was looking at her as if she were a mad woman who had invaded his domain.

She also recognised him as being the man whose horse had almost trampled her to death the day before.

‘I’ll swear when I like in my own house…’ Suddenly he froze and his eyes widened. ‘Good Lord, it’s you—’