Nina Coombs Pykare (3 page)

Wiggins scratched his balding pate and frowned. “Ah no, miss,” he said finally. “Fraid not. The grooms be all gone. Nobody here but us two. And Cook.” He frowned. “Course there’s the viscount’s man, Smithers — a peacock of a man he be, can’t see nothing but clothes.” He shook his bald head. “And her ladyship’s dresser, she never says nothing but ‘Yes, milady,’ — just a wisp of a woman, might fade away any minute. Clinthorn, her name be.” He shrugged. “But they don’t be doing no work like carrying. Neither one a’ them.”

Edwina nodded. Of course not. The hierarchy of servanthood was well established — and quite precise. A valet wouldn’t consider going to fetch a mere governess’s valise. “When will the carriage return?”

“Don’t know, miss. Can’t rightly tell.”

“Probably not afore dark,” Simpson said, rolling her eyes. “The viscount, he took the carriage. Likes to ride about, he does. Says it be boring here. We wasn’t ‘specting no one to have need of it.”

Edwina swallowed a sigh. She’d have to walk back to the village herself. Of course she could wait until tomorrow to get the valise, but she was driven by the desire to have her own things about her. Meager as they were, her possessions gave her a sense of comfort. Besides, she had no wish to spend the rest of the day in this dampish gown. She must have a nightdress to sleep in.

A glance out the window told her that the rain had stopped. That at least was a blessing. “I’m going down to the village,” she said. “If his lordship asks, tell him I’ve gone after my things.”

The old people exchanged knowing glances. “He won’t ask,” Simpson said. “Not that one.” At Edwina’s sharp look, she added quickly, “But if he do, miss, we’ll tell him. Sure and we will.”

“Thank you.” Edwina gave them both a smile. After all, these two had stayed on when everyone else left, and they were probably doing their best. “I should appreciate it, Wiggins, if later on you would keep an ear open for me at the front door. When I return, I’ll need to be shown to my room.”

“Yes, miss, I’ll be doing that.”

“I’ll see that it be ready, miss,” the old woman piped up with a toothy smile, her eyes twinkling. “Neat and cozy it’ll be.”

Edwina couldn’t imagine any room in this great pile of stone being cozy, but she said, “Thank you.” Considering his odd behavior and the frightening reputation of the castle, the earl was fortunate to have kept any retainers at all. She would do what she could to see that these two stayed on.

* * * *

The return walk into the village seemed to take Edwina even longer than the walk out. The road was wet and muddy, full of water-filled ruts, and her damp clothes grew increasingly uncomfortable. But she got her valise from the greengrocer, thanked him, and ignoring his dire warnings and upraised eyebrows, set out immediately on the return journey. She wasn’t going to be put off by curses, but she had no wish to be on the road after nightfall.

She was able to keep up a good pace for some minutes, shifting the valise from hand to hand. But after a while she began to tire. Each step grew more wearying. Her possessions hadn’t looked like much when she’d packed them earlier. But now it seemed that she was carrying a terrible load. Her rain-soaked straw bonnet refused to stay put, continually slipping sideways to obscure her vision.

Maybe she should rest by the side of the road for a while. But the hedgerows were still damp and if she tried to push through them to reach the shelter of the trees, she’d get wet all over again. Besides, darkness was coming on and the castle was still some distance away. So stifling a sigh, she struggled onward.

She was picking her way around some particularly large puddles when she heard the sound of approaching hooves. Who could be using this road, which, after all, led only to the castle? Then, as the thundering hooves grew closer, she ceased to think of anything but getting out of the way. She had barely reached the side of the road and the dubious shelter of the hedgerow when the carriage was upon her.

She screamed as it went thundering past, its wheels throwing up a great stream of muddy water that further wetted her cloak and the front of her gown. Catching a glimpse of a darkly-handsome face at the window, she muttered an imprecation. Another arrogant lord with little regard for human life.

For a moment raw anger coursed through her, but she knew from experience that ranting and raving achieved little for one of her class. Such men acted just as they pleased — usually with no regard for others. Casting an anxious glance at the darkening sky, she yanked at the valise. At least she could put the energy from her anger to good use. Dusk was coming on too quickly. She’d be out here when night fell.

  She resumed trudging along the winding muddy road. Was that the sound of returning hooves? “Not again!” This time she didn’t hesitate, but tugging the valise after her, hurried into the hedgerow. Another exclamation came to her lips, but she swallowed it when she saw the carriage return at a stately pace and come to a halt near her.

She couldn’t help staring in surprise as the gentleman whose face she’d seen before opened the door and stepped down. “I beg your pardon,” he said, giving her a grand bow. An attractive man, with the well-cut coat and skin-tight trousers of a dandy, he was quite careful where he put his well-polished boots on the muddy road.

She was suddenly extremely aware of her own dirty and bedraggled condition, her cloak and the front of her gown saturated with muddy water, her straw bonnet again slipping down over one eye, but she drew herself up and replied with as much dignity as she could muster. “I accept your apology.”

The dandy gave her a charming smile. “I didn’t expect to find any travelers on the road to the castle, you see. We have few visitors there.”

  She kept her expression steady. This must be the other of the two men who lived at the castle — the earl’s cousin and heir, the one the villagers called the Viscount Crawford.

“I am the new governess,” she told him. “Miss Pierce. The earl hired me today.”

“Indeed.” Crawford seemed to find this amusing. Or at least he smiled at her words. “Then I am doubly glad we missed you. Did not run you down, that is. I shouldn’t like to deprive my cousin of his new governess so soon. So messily.” He grinned. “But tell me, why are you trudging along this muddy road lugging a valise? Surely you could have hired someone in the village to bring your things out. They’re not that frightened of us.”

She was conscious of the color flooding her cheeks. How was she to tell this well-dressed dandy that it wasn’t the curse, but money that had put her on this muddy road carrying her own valise? Or rather lack of money. She had no funds at all, not even tuppence.

“I like to walk,” she replied.

He smiled at her. “There’s no need for that now. Come on, get in the carriage.”

Edwina gathered her muddy skirts about her and settled onto the velvet squabs. In London she’d heard about the dandies who considered any woman fair game. Among those aristocrats who had fattened on her father’s substance while they pretended to further his ambitions toward the title there had always been one or two who had persistently pursued her with offers which a decent young woman could not accept. So, reminding herself of the well-known ways of such men, she determined to proceed with care.

“Have you come far?” the viscount inquired, his eyes surveying her curiously, and with what might almost have been admiration.

“I am the baron’s daughter,” Edwina replied, straightening her listing bonnet. “Our land lies west of here.”

“Ah. So then you must know our reputation,” he said with a cheerful smile that, given the circumstances, she found oddly incongruous.

“Yes.” She couldn’t quite approve of such a cavalier attitude. “I heard of her ladyship’s untimely death. I grieved for her family, especially the little ones.”

“Yes, indeed. It was a most appalling thing,” he said, still smiling. “Shocking, I can tell you. But it’s even more shocking to me that anyone who knows about it should even consider wanting a position here.”

“We’re not all lords,” she replied, thinking to herself that this man, in his well-cut coat and cream-colored trousers, had probably never known want, certainly not real hunger.

“Indeed, we are not,” he agreed cheerfully. “Nor are we all pretty young women.”

Heat flooded her cheeks again. Life at the castle would be impossible if she let herself be flattered and beguiled by this admittedly attractive man. She had suffered enough while her father was living. She had no intention of being made a disgrace now that he was dead.

“I know very little of pretty women,” she said, dismissing the compliment. “But tell me, milord, what do you know about my charges?”

The viscount’s handsome face contorted in a grimace. “They are rather unhealthy little things, I fear. Pale as death whenever I chance to see them creeping about the hall. Their mama’s death seems to have unhinged their minds.”

Edwina forced herself to remain calm. No matter what the children’s condition, they were her charges now, poor little things. She would do her very best for them. She was not like her father, she didn’t turn her back on responsibilities. “Do you know their names?”

“Of course. The eldest is Henrietta — the picture of her dear departed mama. The resemblance is almost uncanny and in a few years will be even greater. She’s dark. The other, the younger one, is called Constance. She has fair hair.” He adjusted his cuffs. “I expect they will give you no trouble.”

“I wasn’t thinking of trouble,” Edwina replied a little stiffly. “I only wish to learn as much as possible in order to help them. What about his lordship?” She paused, unable to ask the many other questions hovering in her mind.

“His lordship is pretty much shaken up,” the viscount explained with a sad look and a melancholy sigh. “It’s a pity. The old chap used to be one of London’s best — a tip-top Corinthian. But now ...” His expression darkened. “We do our best to cheer him up, Lady Leonore and I, but it’s difficult. I think sometimes the man is carrying a load of guilt, a heavy load.”

The viscount’s description fit the brooding man she’d seen that afternoon. Perhaps the viscount wasn’t so shallow after all. But why had he said that about guilt? Were the villagers right about the earl? Had the earl had something to do with Lady Catherine’s mysterious death? If so, what had he hoped to gain? Besides, he had seemed sincerely grief-stricken, sincerely missing his wife.

Conscious of the appraising eyes of the viscount, Edwina struggled to dismiss such foolish imaginings from her mind. Her duty was to the children. The others were not her problem and certainly wild speculations about them would serve no good end. Might indeed, interfere with her work with the children.

They rode for some minutes in silence. She told herself she was grateful not to have to walk any more, grateful that at last she’d found a haven. The rest she would handle. Some way, some how.

After some more time had passed in silence, the viscount turned to her. “You are very quiet,” he said in that teasing tone.

“I have little to say,” Edwina observed in as neutral a way as possible. “Besides, it has been my understanding that it isn’t desirable for governesses to mingle with lords.”

The viscount smiled. “Well, my dear, I fear that your understanding is incorrect. For now, at least. At the castle the governess always dines with his lordship and his guests. You must help us raise the old boy’s spirits, you know. Besides, things get deadly dull with no one new around the place. We need you to make conversation.”

His eyes smiled at her warmly, but Edwina maintained a frosty attitude. “Of course I shall comply with the earl’s wishes, whatever they may be.”

“Ah then,” cried the viscount cheerfully. “You will surely dine with us. I shall make a special point of asking him about it. He rather fancies me, I believe. I’m his heir and all.”

That, Edwina thought with asperity, probably explained what such an obvious dandy was doing so far from the pleasure haunts of the city. Perhaps when the Season began again, the viscount would return there, to pursue the joys of Regency London.

“Have you been long at Holmden Hill?” she asked. It was easier to make conversation than to bear the viscount’s appraisal in silence.

“I came along shortly after the earl brought Lady Catherine here. She was a delicate thing, such a suggestible mind.” The viscount shook his head sadly. “He should never have brought her to this wicked place. It was a wretched mistake.”

“Why did he?” Edwina asked, enthralled in spite of herself. A servant, and one newly-hired at that, shouldn’t be gossiping about her master. But wasn’t she entitled to know something about the sort of household she was coming into?

The viscount frowned down at his cuffs. “He spent too much time gaming at White’s. What really did him in was that shipping venture. I lost in it, too, but not big like he did. With the biggest part of his substance gone, he had to sell the London house to pay his debts. A stickler for paying what he owes.” He smiled as though amused by this idiosyncrasy on his cousin’s part. “Don’t know why. Most of us aren’t. This estate was all he had left, you see. So he packed them up and brought them here.”

How sad for the earl. And for his lovely wife. Edwina suppressed a shudder. A delicate suggestible woman might well act strangely if forced to live for long in the eerie atmosphere of the castle.

“Such a beauty Catherine was,” the viscount went on, his brows drawn in a thoughtful frown. “Rather dark in coloring like you, but with violet eyes. When she looked at a man with those eyes, there wasn’t a one who could resist her. Or even wanted to.”

Edwina sighed. Though her looks were passable and men, at least men of the wrong stamp, had approached her, she had never thought of herself as beautiful. Still there continued to exist within her that childish desire to be admired, to be approved, to be considered worthy of a man’s devotion. Even though common sense told her she should recognize the impossibility of such a thing, she couldn’t rid herself of the feeling. Penniless and already four and twenty, she knew there was no way she was going to attract a husband. She should consider herself fortunate to have gained this position at the castle. Very fortunate.