The Colonel's Ungovernable Governess : A Pride and Prejudice Vagary

Chapter Three

Edward had drunk too much last evening. He had called at Darcy House, and he and Darcy had played chess and, later, sat before the fire and spoke of family. “I suppose I always knew the title would eventually fall to me, but I cannot say I am fond of this situation. Having a wife and children about with the snap of one’s fingers is almost too much to consider.”

“Even when Lindale claims his last breath, Lady Lindale is still the children’s mother,” Darcy argued. “It would not be necessary for you to consider them your ‘stepchildren,’ you know.”

“Such does not mean Lady Elaine will not be entitled to some sort of settlement and her care would now fall to the Matlock earldom, not the Babcock one. She lost her widow’s rights to the Babcock earldom with her marriage to Lindale. The Babcock men of business and the brother, Philip Jennings, agreed to a monetary payment in lieu of her dowager claim to interest in the estate. I am convinced Lady Lindale will mean to take up residence in the Matlock dower house, even though my mother still lives. I have not read the agreement between Lady Lindale and my father, but I mean to do so when I return to Derbyshire. I know she was eager to claim another man’s protection, and Lindale required the illusion of normalcy.”

“And you think you will be expected to assume the care of the children, even though their mother lives?” Darcy asked.

“In truth, I do not know what were the stipulations set aside for the children’s care, but such is something I mean to clarify with my father. In reality, I should have done so before he and my mother departed for Guernsey. All that being said, I have been considering what you said of the boy. I have always assumed, from what I knew of the child, he was unteachable, and though I do not yet know whether he could be taught to run the Babcock estate or not, I wish to have the right of it. Most assuredly, there would be a fight on his hands, or, I suppose I should say, on my father’s hands, to claim the earldom, if Jennings means to make a bid for control of the estate and his late brother’s holdings.”

“You must consider how much involvement you mean to practice with Lindale’s stepchildren. You could very well be Matlock by the time the child reaches his own majority. Surely, there have been others with their eccentricities who have been able to function with a reputable guardian or a few advisors to run the estate. In truth, I do not think the boy is incapable, though a good deal of guidance must occur. He appeared more timid to me than anything. I cannot believe Lord Babcock did not consider starting the child’s education early. You recall how young I was when my father began instructing me in first, the household and then the home farms.”

“Not all are raised by a man of your father’s foresight,” Edward argued.

“Confidently so,” Darcy commented, “but an earl should have begun the child’s lessons early, do you not think?”

“I suppose what you and I think of Babcock is irrelevant,” Edward remarked. “We only know what we know, and I have set myself the goal of learning it all. If I am to marry, then I must be aware of all the facts involving Lindale’s commitment to his wife’s family.”

“You cannot forget the young earl’s sisters,” Darcy reminded him. His cousin was not one to permit a conversation to end until it was completely hashed out. “As Lord Vincent is the only boy, he would be responsible for his sisters’ futures. Negotiating marriage settlements and the like. Would it be asking too much of the boy? If I recall correctly, the eldest is but a few years removed from marriage. Naturally, Lady Lindale and your father could assist with that matter, but the other sister is the same age of Lord Babcock.”

“Is not all this too much to place on the shoulders of my future wife?”

“Obviously, this matter must be a sticking point in your negotiations with Miss Romfield’s father,” Darcy suggested. “Would not Matlock or even Lady Catherine have spoken to this matter with the baron when this arrangement was made?”

Edward shook his head, realizing he should have had a much longer conversation with his father before the earl set sail for the islands. In fact, he should not have put off learning something of both running an estate and the arrangements made for Lady Lindale’s family. “Where do I begin?” he asked in frustration.

“My father always said I must begin at the beginning. You still have time to learn as much as you choose of the legal arrangements made between your family and the Babcock one. Your father is very meticulous in such details. You already possess the skills to know success. If this were a battle, you would make yourself aware of every maneuver made previously. I suggest you do so in this matter. Treat it as a battle plan. For years, you have made men of snot-nosed boys. My money would be on you,” his cousin declared with a lift of his glass in salute.

“Yet, I have never come close to offering my hand to any woman, even the few who initially interested me. As a second son, I was always at a disadvantage.”

“Your situation as a second son is not the usual one found by many second sons,” Darcy reminded him.

To lighten the tenor of their conversation, for Edward did not wish to think more on the matter, he said with a grin, “I thought briefly on pursuing Elizabeth, but then I noted your ‘moon face expression’ every time you encountered the lady.”

“I would have been sorry to have run my favorite cousin through,” Darcy declared in stony tones.

“You were more than a bit obvious, Darce,” Edward teased.

“Obvious to you, but not the lady,” Darcy responded before sighing in contentment. “I have been proven correct regarding Elizabeth. Never been more satisfied in my life. Hopefully, Miss Romfield will prove equally as well matched to you as Elizabeth is to me.”

Edward stretched out his legs and yawned. “I suppose I will learn something of our suitability tomorrow. I have made an appointment to call on Lady Romfield and her daughter. Earlier in the week, her ladyship was to escort her son to Harrow for the new term.” He sighed heavily. “Will Miss Romfield find me handsome enough to suit her? I understand the chit danced a waltz with Lord Sizemore at Almack’s without either Jersey’s or the princess’s permission and is now banned. Sizemore is very ‘pretty,’ do you not agree, Darcy? I am not. Lindale received the handsome features. I mean, Sizemore would not have taunted the patronesses with his action if Miss Romfield was less than fair of face.”

“Who is to say,” Darcy remarked in seriousness. “Miss Jane Bennet was truly fair and sweet natured, but she held no hold over me. I found her quite boring, but I could not remove my eyes from Elizabeth, though my wife is not classically lovely, she manages to win over every man and woman she encounters, except perhaps Miss Bingley. My God, Fitzwilliam, if you had viewed Elizabeth with her hair down and blowsy and her hem some six inches deep in mud, you would likely have thought her as ‘medieval’ as did Caroline Bingley, who claimed Elizabeth displayed an abominable sort of conceited indifference to decorum, while I could not remove my eyes from my wife’s countenance. I continued to fight the good fight for a few more months, but my efforts were useless. I was in love with her. I pray you will someday feel the same for Miss Romfield.”

“Only time will tell,” Edward declared. “May I claim my customary quarters? I fear the chilly night will wake me, and I am content to know a warm bed and clean linen.”

* * *

That had been last evening. Now he was standing before the door of Romfield Hall in Kent.

“Yes, sir,” a proper butler said with a bow.

“Colonel Fitzwilliam for Lady Romfield.”

For some reason the servant frowned, but he said, “Her ladyship is expecting you, colonel. If you will follow me.”

Edward nodded his head in acceptance. However, he had an odd feeling of being off-kilter, for there was no offer to take his hat or gloves, and he wondered if such was indicative of the welcome he would receive from Lady Romfield and her daughter.

“Colonel Fitzwilliam, my lady.”

Edward found himself bowing to a woman he had not seen since he was a young lad. “My lady, thank you for receiving me.”

Lady Romfield rose slowly to her feet. “Colonel, you are most welcome,” she said, but the woman appeared nervous. Had Miss Romfield decided against him before even taking his acquaintance? “Please sit, sir. Could I offer you tea?”

“Such is not necessary,” Edward repeated cordially, but he had the feeling something was amiss. “It has been many years, my lady, since we were in company. I hope you are again acclimating to English weather and eccentricities.”

“It has been quite wet, of late,” she repeated in what could only be termed as “stalling” tones.

“And your son? Did he settle in at Harrow? Perhaps you remember that my brother Lindale and I, as well as my cousin Darcy attended the school before going off to Cambridge,” he said to make small talk while he waited for Lady Romfield to bring in her daughter so they might greet each other.

“Yes. Yes, I do recall now that you mention it. As to Andrew, he seems to have settled in. The headmaster matched him with another student to show our Andrew about the grounds.”

“And, Miss Romfield?” he asked with a bit of impatience. Although he was not pleased to have an arranged marriage thrust upon him, Edward thought of himself as adaptable, but, first things first: He must greet his intended bride. Perhaps, he thought, it was time for him to settle into a predictable life. A genteel existence. Mayhap a bit of true happiness. Darcy had achieve it with an “unpredictable” woman. Surely, he could do the same? It was possible. Perhaps.

Unfortunately, with his question regarding her daughter, Lady Romfield rolled her eyes heavenward, as if she sought divine intervention or thought to pass out. “Colonel, I truly do not know how to address our situation.”

“Situation?” Edward asked suspiciously. He knew his eyebrows arched in inquiry, but he attempted to modulate his voice: He was not interrogating an enemy spy or even questioning a fresh recruit who he had stumbled across when the man had orders to be elsewhere.

“Yes, I fear my dearest Jocelyn is above stairs. She foolishly found herself caught in the rain of a day past and has come down with a trifling cold in her head. And the chills also,” the woman added in what sounded of an afterthought.

“A cold is generally somewhat nugatory,” Edward said cautiously. “Yet, is it so bad your daughter cannot leave her bed for a few minutes for the formality of our meeting? I promise not to press her for more than a proper introduction and to make plans to call upon her regularly. I am soon to return to the north on family business and my duties to the army, and I do not think it wise for Miss Romfield and I to postpone our agreement for too long.”

Lady Romfield paled and swallowed hard. “I fear, Colonel, you have caught me in a . . . in a bit of an untruth. You see, Jocelyn does not have . . . have . . . have a simple . . . cold. Not a simple cough and fever. She has contracted . . . measles.”

“Measles?” he asked. “That could be serious.” He thought to test her. “How long has she known the disease? Customarily one becomes ill after being exposed some two weeks prior. If one counts the exposure and the early symptoms, was that not when Miss Romfield was waltzing with Lord Sizemore? Perhaps I should issue a warning to his lordship and the others with whom your daughter associated that evening. And what of your son? Has he carried the contagion to school? Heaven forbid a large number of young boys become ill!”

Lady Romfield paled. “I give you my word, sir, all precautions have been practiced.” It was then that the lady’s backbone arrived. “If these circumstances prove not to your liking, Colonel, all discussions regarding a possible union with my daughter can be terminated.”

Edward was a bit impressed with the woman and hoped her daughter held some of the same temerity. “I should not end an agreement designed by my father without first consulting him. Unfortunately, I am to be in the northern shires for a few weeks to perform my duties to the British army. Therefore, I cannot call again any time soon. However, I am assuming your daughter would be prepared to move forward upon that occasion or we may formally end our agreement. Until then, I believe it best if we both consider ourselves engaged. The earl and your husband would expect nothing less. Naturally, I am making the assumption Miss Romfield can recover by then, and she and I can conduct a conversation on whether or not we proceed or end our agreement. Please present Miss Romfield my sincere hope for a speedy recovery and my regrets for not being in a position to take her acquaintance.” He retrieved his hat and gloves and bowed to the woman.

“Thank you,” her ladyship said as she stood. “You are very kind and understanding.”

Within a minute, he had exited the house and claimed his waiting horse. “Now what?” Edward asked himself as he mounted. “The earl will not be happy with these delays, and, in truth, I am no longer so prepared to toe the line.”

* * *

Jocelyn would have preferred to remain in bed a little longer, but she was starving, and she had imposed on the good graces of Mrs. Darcy and her sister, Mrs. Bingley, long enough. Therefore, once she was dressed in freshly laundered clothes, she asked the maid to show her the way to where Mrs. Bingley and her sister might be located.

Sucking in a deep breath to steady her qualms, Jocelyn placed a smile upon her lips and entered the room the maid indicated. Both the sisters turned to look to her, but it was the one known as “Mrs. Darcy” who rose quickly to greet her. “We am so glad you are strong enough to join us, are we not, Jane?”

The other lady stood also. “Without a doubt. Come sit with us. Would you care for breakfast?”

Jocelyn heard her stomach rumble in anticipation of food. “I would appreciate joining you at the table. I am capable of paying you for both the food and the room.”

“Nonsense!” Mrs. Bingley declared. “My husband and sister would both take me to task even if I had such a thought, which I did not.”

Mrs. Darcy caught Jocelyn’s hand and led her towards a nearby place setting. “Mr. Scott, would you fill a plate for Miss . . . or is it Mrs.?”

“Miss,” Jocelyn supplied. “Miss Rose . . . Miss Rose Lambert.” One of her middle names was “Rose,” and “Lambert” was the surname of the innkeeper who had permitted her a place to sleep on a rainy night.

“You must pardon our curiosity,” Mrs. Darcy said with a sheepish grin.

Mrs. Bingley corrected, “Elizabeth means ‘her’ curiosity. My sister always loves a good puzzle.”

Mrs. Darcy chuckled. “And Mrs. Bingley is generally equally as curious, but she tends to possess more self-control than I.” The woman’s expression turned serious. “What caused you to be on the road alone? Have you no family? Please say you are not running away from a father or husband who has treated you poorly. Such would be more problematic than if you are an orphan, but know we would stand with you if someone offered you a heavy hand and you meant to escape.”

“No abuse,” Jocelyn was quick to say. “Simply an . . . an orphan meaning to make her way in the world.”

“And your parents? Do you not yet have a husband?” Mrs. Darcy asked.

“Elizabeth!” Mrs. Bingley chastised. “Permit Miss Lambert to eat her meal. Your numerous questions do not permit her time to chew her food properly.”

“I apologize,” Mrs. Darcy said with a hint of regret, but Jocelyn suspected the woman only “regretted” being required to wait, rather than regretting her curiosity. The lady said, “Enjoy your meal. Would you like to know something of Mrs. Bingley and me?”

“I already know you are sisters,” Jocelyn said with a smile, as she claimed a mouthful of eggs mixed with bits of bacon. It was all she could do not to groan in pleasure.

“We are two of the five Bennet sisters,” Mrs. Bingley explained. “I am the eldest. Elizabeth is second. Mary, who is third, is married to the rector in Lambton in Derbyshire. Mr. Ericks owes his position to Elizabeth’s husband, Mr. Darcy. Our Katherine, who we call ‘Kitty,’ resides in London with our Aunt and Uncle Gardiner. She is betrothed to a gentleman from Devon, and our youngest sister, Lydia, is married to a lieutenant in the Regulars.”

“No sons?” Jocelyn asked after sipping on the hot tea to wash down the toast. She knew something of how desperately her parents had wished for a son.

“The bane of our parents’ marriage,” Mrs. Darcy said with a bit of impish mischievousness.

“Thankfully,” Mrs. Bingley said diplomatically, “all but our Lydia have married well or will marry well. Therefore, our mother’s future will be secure. While Elizabeth has named her son ‘Bennet’ to preserve the family surname.”

“I imagine such pleases your father,” Jocelyn observed, never having thought much on such matters, but realizing she should have.

“It is rare for Mr. Bennet to disapprove of anything Elizabeth does,” Mrs. Bingley declared.

“Papa did not wish me to marry Mr. Darcy,” Mrs. Darcy said in her own defense.

Mrs. Bingley smiled widely. “Such is because you spent nearly a year declaring how much you despised the man. How were any of us to know of your change of heart?”

Mrs. Darcy barked a laugh. “You must be mistaken, Jane. I find my husband perfectly amiable.”

Jocelyn suddenly wished she had a sister to share teasing and tears and laughter. She adored Andrew; yet, she would never be in a position to share such easiness with another woman, nor likely even with a husband.

Mrs. Darcy said softly, “Now you know something of our most unusual family, may I ask of yours?”

Jocelyn sat straighter. “There is not much to tell. We were on the Continent with the British forces.” She had rehearsed this story several times on her journey, for she knew someone would eventually ask of her family. “My father was killed and my mother and several other women following the drum were wounded and also passed.”

“I did not realize women were so close to the battlefield,” Mrs. Bingley remarked in concern.

“Many women assist the surgeons in medical tents,” Jocelyn explained, which she knew was true, though it was not common knowledge.

“Then you were alone?” Mrs. Darcy asked. “How daunting!”

“It took me months to make my way to the ships bringing British citizens to England.”

“Where did you receive the funds?” Mrs. Bingley inquired.

“The British government allots funds for travel in such situations,” Jocelyn declared, though she was beginning to wish she had never considered telling Mrs. Darcy a lie. The woman had treated her with excessive kindness.

“I see,” the lady said. “My husband’s cousin is a colonel in the British Army, and I have never heard him speak of such conditions for women in a war, and he served both on the Continent and the Canadian front; yet, knowing him, he would mean to protect me from such images.” Mrs. Darcy shrugged her response. “I was simply wondering something of what you plan to do. Whether you have some place in particular to which you have chosen to travel?”

Jocelyn swallowed her fears. “I was hoping to locate a teaching position. There was an advert posted on the wall outside a London boarding house asking for teachers.”

“Is your mind set upon teaching at a girls’ school?” Mrs. Darcy asked. “Are you qualified to teach? What subjects might you address?”

Jocelyn blushed. “I do not know what might be required. I speak both French and Spanish. And a bit of several other languages. I know something of history and literature, but I am not so accomplished in science and mathematics, though I likely know more than most young ladies. I dance passably and play the pianoforte, but drawing would not be a preference if I were presented a choice.”

“I imagine you would do well then at any school,” Mrs. Darcy said, “and I would be pleased to write you a character letter.”

“Yet, you truly do not know me,” Jocelyn objected, though she was highly flattered by the offer.

“I know little beyond what you said of your education, but I believe I know something of your character,” Mrs. Darcy countered.

Jocelyn blinked away the tears rushing to her eyes: She despised how she had lied to such a fine woman. “I do not know what to say, Mrs. Darcy. It has been so long . . .” Jocelyn could not speak her gratitude.

Mrs. Darcy reached across the table to squeeze the back of one of Jocelyn’s hands, while Mrs. Bingley reached for the other. “Would you consider a governess position rather than a school?”

Jocelyn choked on the full rush of emotions crowding her chest. “You would trust me with your children? Do you possess a child older than your son?” she managed to ask through several watery hiccups.

“No. My boy is all I have at the moment,” Mrs. Darcy corrected.

“Then I do not understand.” Jocelyn looked about in sudden doubt.

“I have been charged with finding an appropriate governess for one of my husband’s relations for a set of twins. Another cousin. Might you wish to learn more?” Mrs. Darcy inquired.

Jocelyn clutched at her chest. “God is most kind. Please speak of your intentions, ma’am. I cannot think to be blessed so.”

Mrs. Darcy smiled in what could only be termed as mischievousness, though Jocelyn could not completely understand the gesture. “As God told the Israelites after they had spent years in the wilderness, ‘You have made your way around this hill country long enough, now turn north.’”