Nina Coombs Pykare (29 page)

While they waited, they stood at the tall windows that looked out onto the lawn, and Constance quite naturally slipped her hand into Edwina’s. “I’m glad we have you for governess, Miss Pierce. It’s been ever so much nicer since you came.”

Edwina smiled. “Thank you, Constance. I’m glad to be here.”

“You won’t go away, will you?” Fear was written on the little girl’s face and her small hand tightened spasmodically on Edwina’s. “Please, promise you won’t go away.”

“I promise, Constance. Holmden Hill is my home now. I won’t leave it. Or you.”

During this exchange Edwina was acutely conscious of Henrietta standing by her other side. Henrietta’d been silent this morning while they dressed and Edwina couldn’t tell whether the child still regarded her with the trust she’d shown the night before—or whether she had relapsed into her old way of cold distance. There had seemed less rigidity about her stance this morning, but it was hard to be sure. Edwina swallowed a sigh. Could she have imagined a softening in Henrietta’s attitude? Imagined it because she wanted so badly to be able to reach the girl, to let her know she was loved and cared for.

Then Henrietta spoke. Her voice was low—almost a whisper—and it still sounded shaky, but she said, “I’m glad, too, Miss Pierce.”

“Thank you, dear.” Edwina said nothing more and touched Henrietta’s arm gently. She made no other recognition of the girl’s admission. Henrietta was still terribly frightened. Who would not be? After all, she was convinced that her dead mother was haunting her, wanted her dead.

In spite of all their problems, Edwina felt her spirits rising. At last she had reached Henrietta. At last the child knew she had a friend. That could make all the difference in the world to her future health and happiness. Unless the ghost—but Edwina couldn’t think about that.

“Well, good morning.” The cheerful tones of the viscount made them all turn to look. He stood in the doorway, as usual elegantly turned out. “You were quite the lazy lie-abeds today. I have had my ride already and am back.”

“Good morning, milord,” Edwina said calmly. “I’m afraid we had a restless night. So we stayed abed somewhat longer than usual.”

“No run-in with the ghost, I hope?” He asked the question in a cheery tone, but at her frown he went on to add hastily, “Just joking. Just joking. Have you made any plans for excursions abroad this morning?”

Edwina shook her head. “No, milord. I’m afraid that excursions are out of the question for us today. We’re already behind in our lessons, you see.”

The viscount smiled first at her, then at the girls. “One day behind isn’t all that terrible. You should enjoy the fine weather while you can. I’ve had my daily ride, as I said, but I would still enjoy a walk with you, Miss Pierce. Do at least think about it.”

She could feel the warmth of his eyes on her. But the last thing she wanted was to go walking with the viscount. Aside from the fact that she didn’t want to upset the earl, she didn’t want to be in a position to invite any more advances from the viscount. What had once been a pleasant dalliance of the most innocent kind now felt like gross disloyalty.

In other circumstances she would have been tempted to laugh at herself, at her intense feeling of belonging—heart and soul—to a man who saw her only as a governess, or perhaps, when his instincts were strong upon him, as an available woman. But this was too serious for laughter, this love that she felt, this love that was so new and so wonderful.

She grew aware that the viscount was regarding her curiously and she realized that he was waiting for her to reply to his suggestion of a walk later. “I’m afraid that we must forego any walks today, milord,” she said as pleasantly as she could. “We have such a great deal to do.”

He was plainly unhappy and he made no attempt to hide it. “My dear Miss Pierce, I am most disappointed. I must confess that our excursion together has quite ruined walks in the woods for me alone. It was most unkind of you to do that to me.”

She didn’t know how to reply to this and so remained silent. He didn’t give up so easily. “I’m sadly afraid I cannot walk in the woods now without thinking of you.”

Edwina felt the child beside her stiffen slightly. It came to her in a flash of knowledge that part of Henrietta’s outrage at the kiss was due to her not liking the viscount. She quite probably hadn’t liked him all along, but Edwina had been too busy with other things to notice. That was remiss of her. She should have been more perceptive where her girls were concerned.

“That’s rather foolish of you, milord.” Edwina kept her tone light, but the rejection was still there. There was no way to hide it. “The woods in their beauty were there long before either of us, and they will be there long after the both of us are gone.”

The viscount gave her a strange look, but pursued the subject no further. In a moment Simpson appeared bearing their breakfast, and the three of them moved toward the table.

The viscount frowned, paused as though considering his alternatives, and then smiled. “Should you decide on a walk later in the day, Miss Pierce, I would still appreciate the chance to accompany you.”

She answered this with a nod. She didn’t want to anger him by rejecting him completely and yet she didn’t want to jeopardize the precious rapport now existing between Henrietta and herself by seeming too friendly to this man the child disapproved of. There were her own feelings for the child’s father to consider, too, feelings that still left her somewhat dazed, and unable to think clearly.

After the viscount left the room, still smiling that cheerful smile of his, Edwina said to the girls, “I hope you aren’t disappointed. We have far too much to do today to be going out.”

The quick sigh of relief that escaped Henrietta was more than sufficient to convince Edwina that she had made the right decision. She meant to do her best for the girls. She frowned. Charles—the earl—did not love her. She knew that. Kissing her was one thing, but loving, that was something else. She knew he didn’t love her. He couldn’t love her because he loved, still loved, would probably always love, his Catherine.

Edwina sighed. He did at least respect her. Not that she wanted his respect. She would rather have his love than his respect. She would, God forgive her, have broken the laws of God and man, to belong to him, body and soul. But all she could do was love him, help him. She would do everything in her power to help him.

Everything.

* * * *

After breakfast, Edwina and the girls made their way again to the school room. “What will we study today?” Constance asked cheerfully. “You teach us fun things.”

Edwina gave silent thanks for the little girl. It was somehow easier to act in a reasonable fashion with the child there depending on her, and behaving like any little girl would behave.

What they needed today was something that would take the place of their walk and yet not be too much of a strain on any of their minds, especially her own. Her gaze lit on the watercolor paints. “I think today would be a good time to practice your watercolors. You girls can paint and I will finish stitching on my rose colored gown.”

Constance’s agreement was instant. “Oh, Miss Pierce, yes! I love to paint pictures. Pretty pictures. And I want to see you in your new gown. You’ll look so pretty.”

Henrietta made no comment, but she moved dutifully to the table and set out her supplies. Soon she and Constance bent to their task.

As the rose gown took shape beneath her needle, Edwina was pleased to see that Constance’s painting reflected her usual cheerful attitude toward life. Apparently the little girl had been successful in banishing the events of the night before from her mind. Fortunately she had an optimistic character and seemed to have suffered no ill effects from her sister’s frightening disappearance.

So the late morning passed. When she had taken the last stitch, Edwina stood up and stretched. “It’s all finished. I’ll be able to wear it to dinner tonight.”

She set the gown aside, and went to admire Constance’s picture, then turned, almost afraid to go round the table to look at Henrietta’s painting. Edwina didn’t want to find in it some evidence that would refute the new feeling of alliance that existed between them. But she knew that she must give Henrietta’s work the same attention she’d given Constance’s. To do otherwise would damage their new—and fragile—relationship.

Her heart fell when she noted the gray and black clouding Henrietta’s paper. Then Edwina caught her breath. There were four figures in the painting. From their respective sizes she took them to be the figures of two adults and two children. Dark clouds of gray and black surrounded the four.

But one of the figures, one of the larger ones, female from its outline, was not so black as the others. From this figure a sort of radiance shone out. The figure was cloaked by the black shadows, like the others, but it showed clearly perceivable radiance. As Edwina watched, Henrietta dipped her brush again and extended the radiance from the adult female figure to encompass the two smaller ones and a third that looked like a male figure.

Edwina’s heart rose in her throat. Dear God, she had not been mistaken. Henrietta had changed. That female figure must represent the child’s mother. How wonderful! Now the child was seeing her mother as someone who loved her, a being of light, not a ghost who wanted her dead.

The lump in Edwina’s throat made speaking difficult and she had to swallow several times before she could trust herself to speak normally. Then she said, “I like your painting, Henrietta. That use of light is very interesting.”

Henrietta looked up with a shy smile. “Thank you, Miss Pierce. This is a picture I make in my mind now. Whenever I’m afraid.”

She dipped her brush yet once again and painted more rays of light from the larger female figure so that they surrounded the other three in a protective glow.

She looked up, her pansy eyes warm. “Miss Pierce, can you tell who these people are.”

Chapter Thirty

Edwina nodded. “I think so. These two smaller figures represent you and Constance.” She pointed to the male figure and Henrietta followed her gesture. “This one is your father.” Edwina swallowed. “And the one in the light—that’s your mother.”

Henrietta looked up again, her pansy eyes wide with surprise. “Mama? Oh no, Miss Pierce! That’s not Mama.” Her brush moved to the female figure and she made more golden rays come from it. “That’s not Mama. That’s you.” She smiled shyly. “I love Mama. I always will. But you brought light into our lives again.”

Blinking back the tears that clouded her eyes, Edwina smoothed the child’s hair. “That’s a beautiful picture,” she said. “Thank you for explaining it to me.” Now she could not fail. Now she must bend every effort to defeating this ghost, to making the castle safe and sane for those she loved.

* * * *

The afternoon passed in reading and arithmetic. Soon Edwina dressed for dinner in her new rose sarcenet gown. She went to the cheval glass to tuck her hair back into her chignon and see how the gown looked, and ended up scowling at herself. Lady Leonore was always so breathtakingly beautiful that next to her—even in a new gown—Edwina felt like a ragged foundling. Actually she told herself with some degree of bitterness, that was still not so far from the truth. Though she had two new gowns, she had little else in the way of material things. But it was not that that bothered her most.

With a sigh she turned away from the cheval glass. If she were very young and very beautiful, she might hope to make the earl notice her. But she was doubly handicapped. She had to compete not only with the earl’s beautiful dead wife, but also with her equally beautiful living sister.

Edwina sighed again. This way lay madness. She must stop thinking about such things. There was little she could do about her partiality for his lordship. It was already too deep-seated to be eradicated easily. And the sovereign remedy for such love-sickness—removal to a far place—was simply not possible for her. She could never leave Holmden Hill while Charles and his daughters needed her, while they were in mortal danger.

A shiver quivered over her. She did not believe in the ghost, she would not believe in the ghost, but still there was danger here, still the shadow of death seemed imminent. But exactly who was in danger? And why? If only she knew.

She took a deep breath. She would win this battle. She couldn’t let the girls down. From the first day she’d arrived at the hill, Constance had looked up to her, counted on her. Now Henrietta was doing that too. Even the earl himself depended on her to some extent. This was a sacred trust she’d undertaken. She would not fail in it.

When she moved out into the hall, the shadows seemed to loom even larger than usual. There were always candelabra lit in the hall, but even their light did little to dispel the darkness. She had a sudden memory of Henrietta’s painting—and the radiance of that one figure of light—and she smiled with satisfaction. Love could bring great responsibilities, but it could also bring great joy.

Then she no longer had time to consider philosophic subjects, for she had reached the bottom of the stairs and the earl and the viscount were coming from the other direction, apparently chatting on their way to the dining hall.

Their eyes lit on her and their conversation ceased, almost it seemed in mid-sentence. Were they talking about her? Still she managed to keep her head up. She wasn’t a schoolroom miss to be moved to confusion by a man’s mere look.

She couldn’t help wishing that she hadn’t met the two of them together. The way the viscount looked at her, with the brash confidence of the avowed rake, made her increasingly uncomfortable now. What did the earl think of such looks? Did he think she deliberately invited them? She would never have his love, but she didn’t want him to think she was a loose woman.

Already he knew that the viscount had kissed her. And
he
had kissed her. Her breath quickened when her gaze met the earl’s. Was he, too, remembering the kisses that had passed between them?

The earl’s eyes remained opaque and distant, divulging not one iota of his feelings toward her. So she had nothing but her own feelings to go on, feelings that were patently unreliable. She knew that, knew that she wished so desperately that the earl would feel something, even the littlest something, for her, that she would grasp at anything that might make her believe so.