More Than a Governess Page 14

  ‘You will not do such a thing because you are an honourable man, Damon Collingham, and you know that such an action would kill my love for you.’

  Juliana held her breath, watching his face. It was grey and hard as stone in the moonlight. His fingers curled in her hair, straining painfully against her scalp, but she did not regard it.

  ‘I could break you,’ he muttered. ‘You are so small, so frail here in my arms. With one swift movement I could extinguish you. And yet you have such power over me.’ With a long sigh he let her go and half-turned from her, staring up at the moon with his hands clenched at his sides. ‘I would lie down and die for you, Juliana Wrenn, yet you want me to live—without you. You condemn me to purgatory.’

  ‘I ask the same of myself.’ She waited a moment, and when he did not reply she slipped her hand through his arm. ‘We must go back, sir. To the inn.’

  He looked down at the fingers lying against his sleeve, then covered them with his free hand.

  ‘Yes, of course. You will not go without telling me?’ he asked her as they turned their steps back towards the George. ‘You will not take Thomas and Amy and disappear? When you leave me, I want to know that you are safe. Promise me.’

  ‘I give you my word I shall not leave in such a way. Unless you give me cause.’

  ‘Hah! I should have known you would put the responsibility on my shoulders.’ They had reached the door of the inn and he stopped. ‘I will bid you goodnight, Miss Wrenn. I will not wish you pleasant dreams. I am selfish enough to want you to suffer, as I do.’

  She gave a sad little smile. ‘Oh, you may be sure of that, sir. Are you not coming in?’

  ‘No.’ He kissed her fingers, gave them a squeeze and let them go. ‘I shall walk on for a while. I have a sudden desire for some vigorous exercise.’

  Juliana watched him stride away, then turned and slowly made her way up to her room. She felt desperately tired, but guessed that no amount of sleep would relieve the black depression that filled her heart. She did not believe Major Collingham would refuse to pay her something if she chose to leave, despite his harsh words. She would look for another post, but how long would that take? Weeks, at least, which would give her time to see Gwendoline and Wilhelmina settled into their new home. She realised that she was almost as fond of them as she was of her own family. She thought dismally that, if it were not for the children, she could end her own misery by drowning herself in the local horse pond. As it was, she would continue the journey to Blackthorpe and hide her despair as best she could.

  Chapter Fifteen

  ‘Here we are, dearies.’ Nurse leaned forward to peer out of the coach window. ‘You’ll soon have your first view of Blackthorpe Hall.’

  They had been climbing for some time, travelling across wild desolate moorland with only the occasional farmhouse and its stone-walled enclosures to relieve the emptiness. Now the road was curling about the side of a hill and as they swept around for their descent a wide, green valley came into view below them covered with a mix of woodland and pasture. Winding through the lowlands was the new canal, the ground around it brown and scarred by the recent construction. To the west and east the land rose up gently, but in the far north smoky grey peaks indicated a wilder landscape.

  ‘Look!’ cried Gwendoline, ‘There’s the Hall. You can just see the gables.’

  ‘Bless you, dear, and you nought but a tot when you was last here,’ exclaimed Nurse, admiring.

  ‘There is a painting of the house in the drawing room at Kewhurst,’ put in Wilhelmina, ‘so I remember it too!’

  Juliana followed Gwendoline’s pointing finger. To the eastern side of the valley was a small park with a ribbon of white drive curving through it to a long, low house of creamy stone. There was an occasional glimpse of stone-mullioned windows but the gables and twisting chimneystacks were plainly visible above the trees.

  ‘I love this part of the journey,’ said Nurse, settling back into her seat. ‘I am always reminded of the devil taking our Lord up on to a high mountain and showing him all the kingdoms of the world to tempt him.’

  ‘Yes,’ nodded Wilhelmina, remembering her lessons. ‘And the Lord said, “Get thee behind me, Satan.”’

  Nurse chuckled. ‘So he did, well done, Minna.’

  ‘Yes, well done,’ Juliana echoed, watching the tiny figures in the curricle ahead of them—Wilhelmina’s words were a timely reminder of the task she had set herself. She said aloud, ‘Blackthorpe is beautifully situated.’

  ‘Aye, miss, ’twas always the master’s favourite. In his grandfather’s time, of course, the family owned nearly the whole valley, but it is all gone now.’ Nurse shook her head, and mouthed the word ‘gambling’ over the children’s heads to Juliana. ‘But the Major still owns the land to the east of the house, as far as the eye can see.’

  Juliana looked up at the hills, stark and bare against the rich farmland to the west. Her spirits sank; if this was the remains of the Major’s estates, it was no wonder he needed to marry well.

  ‘Of course,’ Nurse continued, ‘some days the cloud is so low there’s nothing to see but a grey mist until you reach the valley bottom, but today we are fortunate—we can see clear up to the mountains of Westmorland, where the poet Mr Wordsworth lives, but Miss Wrenn can tell you all about that in your lessons.’

  For the first few days at Blackthorpe Hall, Juliana was busy organising the schoolroom and settling the children into their new home. In such a large, rambling building it was not difficult for her to avoid seeing Major Collingham. The great hall was the oldest part of the house, containing the main entrance and an open gallery that linked the two main wings with the grand staircase that rose majestically from the centre of the hall. The nursery, schoolroom and the rooms set aside for herself, Thomas and Amy were all in the east wing above the library, while the family rooms and the estate offices occupied the ground floor of the west wing with the main bedchambers and guestrooms above. She wondered if some previous owner had planned it for just such an occasion, in order that the schoolroom party would cause as little inconvenience as possible to the lives of the parents. The two main corridors leading from the gallery were almost identical, each lined with carved oak panelling, the long stretches of polished wood broken by plinths bearing a series of marble and alabaster busts. The housekeeper, Mrs Plumstead, told Juliana that there were thirty-two of the busts around the house.

  ‘The master’s grandfather was a great collector, miss,’ she said, when she was giving Juliana her first tour of the house. ‘He had been to foreign parts, you see, and took a fancy to the old statues he saw there. There’s everything from Greek gods and goddesses to the likeness of Milton outside the blue guestroom. You will find them all over the house, miss, but the finest examples are displayed in the main passage, which leads to the master’s rooms and the guest rooms. Mostly marble they are.’

  ‘But did I not see some examples outside the schoolroom?’ enquired Juliana.

  ‘Oh, yes, miss, although most of them are chipped or marked.’ She lowered her voice. ‘If it was up to me, I would throw out the damaged ones, but the master won’t hear of it. Ancient, he says they are, to be preserved for the family. But I says Miss Gwen and Miss Minna would much prefer some nice new statues to look at, if they was given the choice.’

  Juliana smiled to herself as she accompanied Mrs Plumstead on the rest of the tour. It was plain that despite her disapproval of the old relics with which Blackthorpe was filled, the housekeeper was proud of her domain and kept everything in gleaming good order. She was also proud of her master, and was willing to tell more anecdotes of the Major than Juliana could bear to hear.

  Juliana took her dinner with the children in the schoolroom and sent them with Nurse to visit their father for an hour after dinner each evening. Thomas had been given permission to visit the stables, and on the second evening he came back with the news that the Major had instructed Fewell to find ponies to suit him and Amy, and that they were to be given
riding lessons with his own girls. Juliana could not but be pleased at their inclusion and to feel gratitude for the Major’s kindness, but there was no mention of her joining in this treat and she was obliged take herself to task for feeling disappointed; after all, the Major spent a great deal of time with his horses, so it would be much better if she avoided the stables altogether. No, she told herself, if she was careful, it was very possible that she could go for weeks without seeing Major Collingham.

  The dry weather of their arrival was replaced by a lowering cloud and a fine, chilling rain that blew across the land in hazy drifts, as though Nature was regretting her earlier kindness. The schoolroom windows faced east and looked out across the high moors to the back of the house. The tops of the hills were shrouded in cloud, but there were plenty of tracks through the heather and gorse, and Juliana was eager to explore. A few days after her arrival she sought the secretary in his office to inform him of a crack in one of the schoolroom windows and was emboldened by his friendly attitude to ask him about the moors.

  ‘Mr Brasher, I wonder, can you tell me—are the hills accessible from here? I would dearly love to walk out that way, once the weather improves.’

  ‘Why, yes, miss, there’s a track leads directly from the Hall up on to the moor, but you would be wise to keep to the wide tracks and within sight of the Hall. The land is very wild, and the weather can turn in the wink of an eye, and you would not want to be caught out overnight in these bitter winds. It is a dangerous place, Miss Wrenn.’

  ‘You are not native to these parts, I think,’ she ventured.

  Mr Brasher gave her a rueful smile. ‘No, miss, I’m a Hampshire man, born and bred, and more used to Kewhurst, where the soil favours crops and cattle. Farming at Blackthorpe is a perpetual struggle, given the house’s situation. Still, with investment, the returns can be improved.’

  ‘And that will happen when the Major marries Lady Frances?’ she asked.

  ‘Aye, miss,’ beamed the secretary. ‘A good day that will be, I am sure.’

  On her fourth day at Blackthorpe Juliana was able to escape from the house and set out alone to explore. A stony track led away from the grounds and wound its way upwards. Green pastures soon gave way to gorse and heather and large tracts of rough grassland dotted with sheep. It was a bright, blustery day, with thick white clouds sailing high in a blue sky. Although it was the end of May, a chill wind was blowing and Juliana was glad of her thick pelisse, although the exertion of the ascent soon had her cheeks glowing. She stopped and turned to look back over the valley. The westerly wind whipped at her bonnet and she ripped it off, laughing as the breeze tugged at her hair, pulling strands free from the clips she had so carefully placed earlier in the day. She was breathing hard from her climb, but the exercise had refreshed her, and she felt happier than she had done for months. The sad death of her father and the worry over how she would support the children seemed to have lessened, and even her longing for the Major could be contained as a dull but constant ache. She could be happy here, she thought. If she could find a small house in one of the towns, she could survive in this rough land. Immediately below her she could see Blackthorpe Hall, its stone walls almost glowing in the sunlight. It resembled a large creamy letter E against the green of the lawns and gardens, with the gravel drive winding away through the small park. She would bring the children up here, she decided. On the next dry day they would bring their drawing materials and sketch the house.

  ‘Beggin’ yer pardon, miss, but ye should be headin’ down now.’

  Juliana jumped when the guttural voice spoke behind her. She looked round to find a small, weatherbeaten face peering up at her from under the brim of a battered hat. An old man in brown homespuns touched his forelock, then nodded towards the southern sky.

  ‘Clouds rollin’ in. You had best be getting ’ome.’

  Juliana looked around and saw the heavy grey cloud massing on the horizon. ‘Yes, I will, thank you.’ She gave the old man her friendly smile. ‘Do you work at Blackthorpe?’

  He shrugged. ‘Not at the Hall, no, but I does work for the family. Aye, man and boy, I bin tendin’ sheep on the moors. Without me most of the families in yon valley would starve.’

  ‘Oh, you provide their meat, then? Do the sheep not belong to the estate?’

  The man gave a cackling laugh. ‘You bain’t from these parts, I can tell! Staples, miss.’ Juliana looked blank. He said patiently, ‘Wool. The womenfolk spins it, and the men sits up at their looms and weaves their pieces to take to the market.’

  ‘Oh. And does that provide a good living?’ she asked him.

  The old man spat. ‘It suits some. Me, I’d rather be out ’ere under the clouds than cooped up with a clacking loom all day.’

  ‘You must love these moors.’

  ‘Aye, miss, I do. And there’s riches ’ere, for them as knows where to look. Gold,’ he whispered.

  She could not prevent her smile. ‘I think not,’ she said, putting on her bonnet. ‘Because I am new here does not mean I am a simpleton.’

  ‘No more than the rest,’ he called after her. ‘They can’t see it, but it’s here, right enough. Black gold.’

  With a laugh and a wave of her hand Juliana set off down the hill. The clouds to the south were billowing over the sky, and by the time she reached the park the sun had disappeared and the fresh breeze had grown chilly. Juliana headed for the stable yard and the quickest way into the house. As she turned in through the gateway, she saw a diminutive groom leading a beautiful long-tailed grey to the mounting block. Almost immediately Major Collingham came out of the house, escorting a tall woman in a deep-blue riding habit.

  Juliana hesitated, but only for a moment. They had seen her, and to turn back and scuttle away would only draw attention to herself. Squaring her shoulders, she walked quickly across the yard towards the side door, pausing only when the Major called her name.

  ‘Lady Frances, let me present Miss Wrenn to you before you leave.’

  ‘Ah, yes, the governess,’ murmured Lady Frances, giving Juliana a faint, cold smile. ‘I had expected her to be in the schoolroom.’

  In that few moments Juliana learned everything she wanted to know of Lady Frances Ridlington. The lady was built on queenly lines, and the velvet riding suit had been tailored to accentuate her generous figure. An abundance of flaxen hair was swept up beneath a wide-brimmed beaver hat trimmed with ostrich feathers that curled around her face. Her features were regular, there was nothing to displease. Juliana had heard her described as serene, but thought she looked smug, and immediately castigated herself for this uncharitable opinion.

  ‘Yes,’ remarked Major Collingham, ‘Why are you not in the schoolroom with your charges, Miss Wrenn?’

  ‘We have finished our lessons for the day, sir, and I left them in the care of Nurse, sewing their samplers.’ The wind tugged at the curls that were escaping from her bonnet and she became aware of her windswept appearance. ‘I took the opportunity to walk up on to the moor.’

  The Major’s eyes narrowed. ‘So I see.’

  Lady Frances laughed gently. ‘Do not be too angry with her, Damon; the wind here is enough to make any female look positively frightful. No doubt you will allow Miss Wrenn to bring the children to the drawing room after dinner tomorrow night, and she will be a little more prepared for a meeting with me.’

  Juliana’s cheeks flamed. She bobbed a curtsy and walked to the house, using all her will-power to prevent herself from breaking into a run—she would not scurry away like a frightened minion.

  She spent some moments at the door, vigorously scuffing the mud from her boots while her anger cooled. Behind her she could hear the muted voices as Lady Frances took her leave, and the clatter of hooves on the cobbles, but Juliana went inside without a backward look. She had reached the main staircase when she heard the Major calling her. She stopped and looked back.

  ‘What were you doing on the moors?’

  ‘I told you, I went for a walk.’ />
  ‘Alone? I gave orders to the contrary.’

  She raised her brows. ‘I thought that applied only to the children.’

  As she put her foot on the first stair he reached out and caught her wrist.

  ‘No, you foolish girl, you are as vulnerable as they…and as dear.’ His thumb rubbed gently into the palm of her hand and a sudden sting like lightning shot down through her body. She tried to pull away, but he held her firm. ‘Did you see anyone while you were out?’

  ‘Only an old man—wizened and brown as a nut. He told me he looked after the sheep.’

  ‘Old Caleb. He’s harmless enough.’

  ‘If a little confused; he said there was gold on the moors.’

  He smiled faintly.

  ‘If only that were true! Very well. Go and look to your charges.’

  ‘I had best tidy myself first.’

  ‘Aye.’ He scowled at her. ‘How dare you walk through my yard looking like a regular blowsabella and frightening my guest?’ The scowl disappeared. He chuckled. ‘Oho, that’s made you show hackle, eh?’

  ‘I have no idea what it means, but I infer that you are trying to insult me,’ said Juliana furiously. ‘Let me go!’

  ‘It means a country wench,’ he said, smiling.

  With a little cry of frustration and anger Juliana swung her hand up to slap his face, but he was too quick for her, and in an instant she found herself pinned to his chest, both wrists held firmly behind her back. She glared up at him.

  ‘How dare you!’

  ‘I would dare a great deal more,’ he growled, his hard eyes glinting down at her.

  She felt the tears pricking her eyelids and suddenly the fight left her. She hung her head, whispering into his coat, ‘Damon, you promised.’

  He sighed. ‘Aye, so I did.’

  He released her and stepped away so quickly that she was obliged to reach for the baluster to steady herself.