Chapter Ten
Jocelyn strolled along behind the twins. They had been out early again today searching for specimens to sketch and add to their flora and fauna book. As the two children walked side by side, Vincent was rattling off all Mr. Darcy and the colonel had shared on the family history, explaining it to his sister, but Jocelyn paid little attention. Her move to the governess’s quarters had been quite a shock, for the room was exceptionally sparse; however, both Vincent and Victoria had brought her something to brighten the room.
When they returned to the house, she would privately inform Mrs. Ross that Lord Vincent had moved a flower vase with the bouquet still in it inside her room, while Lady Victoria had presented Jocelyn a hand-held mirror. Jocelyn would not have a maid blamed for theft nor would she have herself accused of a crime.
“May we walk to the pond before we return to the house for our meal?” Vincent asked as he walked backwards. She did not remind the boy how the hesitation had disappeared from his speech. She was beginning to understand the “hesitation” had something to do with his worry of being accepted.
Jocelyn smiled upon the pair. “Only if you assist me in carrying this box. I am juggling too many things to walk much further.”
Both children scrambled to take on part of the burden. “Mrs. Peyton would never permit us to touch the paint or the paper,” Victoria explained. “She said we were too clumsy.”
Jocelyn simply nodded her acceptance of what the child had disclosed. “If we are to explore the estate together, we should share the duties, as well as the pleasures of the adventure. Do you not think?” Mrs. Ross had warned her how the estate must purchase more paper and paints and pencils for the children. In addition to being quite critical of the twins, evidently, Mrs. Peyton had taken many of the supplies with her when she was released from her duties.
“I mean to see the woman’s final wages are dunned for the costs,” the housekeeper had fumed.
“The pond is quite beautiful,” Lady Victoria declared. “I wish we had biscuits for the ducks.”
“We will bring some next time,” Jocelyn assured.
“Do you want me to fetch some?” Vincent asked.
Not wishing the child to be singular in his desire to feed the ducks, she basically ignored his question to distract the pair. “There will be enough samples to draw today without being called upon to feed the ducks, though I think we might do so tomorrow morning before we set out again. Feeding ducks is much better in the early hours of the day. And as quickly as the new paints and paper arrive, we will be painting what we think is worthy from around the pond. I would like to do so after a rain. It is wonderful to sketch the moisture on the leaves.”
Victoria appeared daunted by the possibility. “Will you show us how to draw the rain drops first?”
“Most assuredly,” Jocelyn declared. She suggested, “Let us converse in French, and, in that manner, we will cover two lessons at the same time.”
The children did not appear to think hers was a good idea. “Mrs. Peyton . . .” Vincent’s hesitation reappeared as his body stiffened as if waiting to be struck, “thought me too . . . dumb . . . to learn . . . French.”
“I swear—” Jocelyn began, but quickly swallowed her criticism of both Mrs. Peyton and the children’s parents for trusting the woman. “And you, Victoria, how is your French?” she asked instead.
The girl dropped her head in what appeared to be shame. “I refused to learn when Mrs. Peyton would not teach Vincent.”
“I see,” she said with a bit of irritation. “For the moment, I shall teach you common phrases. When we return to the classroom, we will begin the necessary conjugations.”
They both groaned.
“My name is . . . She paused, nearly saying “Jocelyn” in the need to engage the pair. “My name is Rose. Je m’appelleRose. Say je m’appelle and then your name. You first, Lady Victoria.”
“Say it again,” Victoria requested with a frown marking her forehead in concentration.
“Je m’appelle Rose,” Jocelyn said slower.
“Je m’apple Victoria,” the girl said, and Vincent burst into laughter.
“You are next, my fine friend,” Jocelyn warned, and the boy quickly swallowed his mirth. “Je m’appelle,” she said slowly. “Say it together.”
“Je m’appelle,” they chorused.
“Je m’appelle Rose. Now Victoria.”
“Je m’appelle Victoria,” the girl said with a smile.
“Vincent, if you please,” Jocelyn instructed.
“What if I . . . do not please?” he asked stubbornly.
“Then you will force me to eliminate all our outings until you comply,” Jocelyn warned. “We may learn French as we enjoy other activities or we may learn it in the schoolroom. I can warrant neither the colonel nor Mr. Darcy will object to the schoolroom method. They will say such served them well.”
“She is correct,” Victoria told her brother. “There is a time to be dogged and a time to comply.”
The boy rolled his eyes, but he said, “Je m’a.ppelle Vincent.”
Jocelyn pointed to the elm tree. “Orme,” she said.
“Orme,” the pair repeated together.
Victoria asked, “How should we say ‘grass’?”
“Herbe,” Jocelyn provided.
“It sounds like ‘herb,’” Vincent observed.
“Yes, many words move back and forth between languages. We English speakers have adopted many French words, for French was often spoken at Court. The Norman Conquest was a key event which added French words to the English language.”
The boy perked up. “Mr. Darcy was teaching me words like sobriquetyesterday. The ‘Bab’ part of our peerage name likely came from Nicholas Bab whose name was first recorded in 1209 at Essex in the Court of Husting. Mr. Darcy says that is the largest court in London. The word ‘cock’ is a sobriquet for ‘a sharp, forward boy.’ Remember how I told you that your name came from the Roman god of victory, Victoria?”
Before they became too far off her lesson, Jocelyn overrode Victoria’s response by saying, “Remember, the Normans spoke a northern form of Old French called Anglo-Norman French. Words such as bachelor, bureau, debris, fa?ade, and irony, all come to us from French. Even ‘literature’ has been borrowed from the old French word littérature.”
The boy looked at her oddly, as if he was not confident she spoke the truth, but he nodded his agreement, nevertheless. “We will learn what you teach, but may we see the pond, now?”
“Pouvons-nous voir l’étang maintenant?” she asked with a lift of her brows in a challenge.
“I will . . . attempt . . . to speak . . . French,” Vincent said with a shrug of his shoulders in defeat. “But, I will . . . do so . . . with little . . . confidence . . . of my success.”
“Such is all I ask. No one can learn without effort expended. The word for pond is étang.”
“The way you say ‘pond’ it sounds as if you are saying ‘it tong,’” Victoria declared.
“Perhaps the pond is an ‘it tong,’” Jocelyn teased.
“It-tong. It-tong. There is a frog beside the it-tong,” Victoria singsonged before both children burst into laughter.
“Grenouille,” Jocelyn corrected. “Frog.”
“Going-we,” Vincent declared.
Jocelyn, too, broke into laughter. “Enough French for the moment. We will continue in the schoolroom. For now, let us enjoy the stillness of the pond before we return to the house for our repas.”
“I know repas,” Victoria declared in triumph. It means ‘food.’ A meal. Listen, Vincent, we both already know a French word: I cannot wait to tell the colonel.”
* * *
As they approached the house a quarter hour later, the children broke away from her. Amazingly, Victoria beat her brother as Victoria rushed into the open arms of a beautiful young lady of perhaps sixteen or seventeen years.
To be fair to the boy, Vincent carried a frog between his cupped hands, causing him to lope along rather than gallop across the drive.
“You are here,” Victoria declared as Jocelyn followed the pair to greet the young woman.
“Should I not be?” the girl teased as she turned to greet Vincent. “What have you there, Brother?” she asked with only the slightest snarl of disapproval.
“A frog,” Lady Victoria said in tones of superiority.
“A bullfrog,” her brother corrected. “Miss Lambert said it was a bullfrog.”
“I recall,” Victoria said as she stepped further away from her brother.
Before more could be said, the colonel and the Darcys streamed from the house. Jocelyn looked on as the girl presented the colonel an affectionate embrace, and, like it or not, Jocelyn frowned in disapproval.
“Colonel,” the girl gushed. “I did not realize you were at William’s Wood. If so, I would not have rushed home when I heard of Mrs. Peyton’s dismissal.”
“I wrote to you,” Vincent declared.
“I must have departed before your letter was presented to me. Sometimes, the school staff forgets that we love to receive letters from home,” the girl countered. “Did you not rid yourself of what you had in your hands?” she asked, obviously wishing to change the subject. “Look at you. You are covered in mud! We must find you an appropriate governess immediately, do you not agree, Colonel?” She laced her arm through the man’s, and a deeper frown claimed Jocelyn’s forehead.
The colonel easily disengaged himself from the girl’s grasp so he might kneel before Vincent. “What have you there, my lord?”
“A bullfrog, sir. I caught it. All by myself,” Vincent said proudly.
Jocelyn was well aware of the colonel’s questioning gaze meeting hers, but she remained silent as the family “drama” played out before her.
“A bullfrog,” the colonel said in even tones, “does not belong in the house. You should release it.”
Jocelyn recognized when Vincent’s stubbornness arrived. It was accompanied by his stammer. “I wanted . . . to show you . . . and Mr. Darcy . . . the frog . . . and tell you . . . what I learned . . . today.”
The colonel opened his mouth to deliver the boy a warning, but Mr. Darcy knelt next to his cousin to intercept the colonel’s ill-spoken reprimand. “How do you know it is a bullfrog, my lord?”
The boy’s stiff shoulders eased back into place. “It is larger, sir,” the boy responded quickly. “Miss Lambert says a bullfrog can grow up to six inches in length.” Vincent looked steadily at Mr. Darcy for acceptance, and he must have found what he was seeking in the man’s features, for he continued, “This one is nearly that big already, sir. Nearly the size of your hand. Green frogs are usually only two or three inches. Bullfrogs have a deeper croak also, and they live up to fifteen years. La grosse grenouille. Is that correct, Miss Lambert?”
“Very close, my lord,” she said with a smile to reassure him there was no censor on her part. “Just remember that ‘grosse’ does not sound of ‘gross’ as we Brits might say, though, I suspect both your sisters might consider the frog more than a bit blatantly unacceptable. ‘Grosse’ is closer to ‘goose’ rather than ‘gross.’”
“Yes, miss,” the child said with a small smile. “I will remember.”
Mr. Darcy stood. “Lord Vincent, let us carry the frog away from the house and release it back to its home. No sense in frightening the cook and others.”
“Yes, sir,” the boy said obediently.
“What else have you learned this morning?” Mr. Darcy asked as they walked away together.
“How to say some French words, and we drew sketches of . . .” Their voices faded away as Vincent scampered to keep up with Mr. Darcy’s long strides.
The colonel had stood when his cousin had done so. Now, he looked off to where Mr. Darcy and the boy conversed easily. At length, he gave himself a sound shake, as if he too was learning a lesson. Finally, he turned to the waiting girl. “Come in, Annabelle,” he said as he gestured for the girl to proceed him. “There is a bit of a chill in the air this morning.”
“Will you not introduce Miss Lambert, Colonel?” Mrs. Darcy asked with a lift of her brows in apparent disapproval of the man’s actions.
Before he could turn to where Jocelyn still waited for his recognition, the girl wrapped her arm about the colonel’s arm. “I may greet the new governess later, after she sees both my brother and sister are properly attired for a midday meal and brought down to join the family.”
Jocelyn noticed how Mrs. Darcy rolled her eyes, but she ignored the young lady to say, “My younger sisters, especially our dear Lydia, often forgot their manners when greeting a new person within the household, but I am confident the colonel will wish to set the standard in his brother’s absence, will you not, sir?” Mrs. Darcy had expertly led both the colonel and the girl to where she wanted them. Jocelyn was beginning to understand why Mr. Darcy had come to worship the woman. “By the way, Lady Annabelle,” Mrs. Darcy said as the girl walked ahead of her, “I am confused by something you said earlier. How did you know Miss Lambert is the children’s ‘new’ governess if you did not receive Lord Vincent’s letter? You could have been ordering one of my sisters or even my husband and the colonel’s Cousin Anne to tend to the children.”
Jocelyn swallowed the smirk rushing to her lips. She had been blessed when Mrs. Elizabeth Darcy had befriended her.
“I just made the assumption—” Lady Annabelle began.
Yet, Mrs. Darcy kept control. The woman reminded Jocelyn of her mother in that aspect. Lady Romfield was always quick to assess a situation and set it right. “Assumptions, unfortunately, are often faulty. Mr. Darcy’s first impression of me and, likewise, mine of him proved in error. I am assured the colonel never entered any military confrontation with only assumptions available. Would you, sir?”
“No, Cousin Elizabeth. I would not,” the colonel responded immediately.
“I thought not,” Mrs. Darcy continued, undaunted, as Lady Annabelle and Lady Victoria shed their outwear to be placed away by the butler. “Mr. Torrence, please inform Cook of Lady Annabelle’s unexpected return and ask Mrs. Ross to have a maid air out her quarters. We will also require an extra setting today and going forward.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“I could dine below,” Jocelyn offered.
“Nonsense!” both Mrs. Darcy and the colonel said together. Their response went a long way in allaying Jocelyn’s growing uncomfortableness.
“I wish you at the table to assist the children,” the colonel finished.
Feeling a bit better, Jocelyn said, “You will send Lord Vincent up, please, when he returns to the house with Mr. Darcy.”
“I will bring the boy to his quarters,” the colonel assured. “Elizabeth, might you see Lady Annabelle is settled in properly?”
“Gladly done,” Mrs. Darcy said with a knowing smile. “You should come with us, Lady Victoria. When we see your sister settled, you may change out your clothes for the meal.”
“I know my way to my quarters,” Lady Annabelle said with a bit of continued defiance.
“Yet, I must insist, my lady.” Mrs. Darcy continued her lesson in proper manners. Despite not being afforded the type of education Lady Annabelle had been provided, Mrs. Darcy’s instincts proved more valuable. It was a lesson Jocelyn required, as well. Mrs. Darcy slid an arm about the girl’s waist and led her away. Lady Victoria skipped along beside them, while asking her sister questions about school, as well as of her gown.
The colonel waited until the pair was out of sight and Mr. Torrence had withdrawn before he said, “Permit me to apologize for Lady Annabelle.”
“Should such not be your brother’s and Lady Lindale’s task?” Jocelyn asked.
“It should,” he said with a bit of annoyance in his tone. “But I doubt either would. Although they are not naturally ‘mean-spirited’ people, both of my parents and my brother are often assumptive. You should meet my aunt if you wish to look upon someone who believes no one should cross the aristocratic lines. She took to her bed for a week when Darcy married Elizabeth Bennet, a daughter of the gentry, rather than a noble family. Ironically, both my aunt and Lady Annabelle are the eldest child and are daughters of an earl.”
“I appreciate your concern, sir,” Jocelyn said softly, as the colonel closed the space between them. It was always the same with them when they were alone. Jocelyn held no idea why she was so attracted to this particular man. She knew men who were more handsome in the classical sense of the word and definitely of an easier nature. Perhaps it was the challenge she wished, she told herself.
“I would not have you abused,” he said in a husky voice as he studied her countenance. She knew what he was thinking: He meant to kiss her. “I would . . .”
She was not to learn if her instincts were correct, for Vincent pulled open the main door at that exact moment. The boy was followed closely by Mr. Darcy.
“We found another bullfrog!” the boy declared happily. “Mr. Darcy says it might be Horace’s wife,” the child disclosed.
The colonel swallowed the apparent desire pasted on his features only seconds prior. “A ‘she’ bullfrog? Is such possible, Darcy?” he teased.
“You know it is Colonel,” Mr. Darcy countered. “You had your own favorite pair down by the pond behind Pemberley House.”
“Did you, Colonel?” the boy asked.
“I did, son,” he said without considering his words. “My extra smart cousin likely already told you how you might tell the difference between the male and the female. Did he not?”
“Yes, sir,” the boy said with a smile directed at Mr. Darcy. “The size of the eardrums is smaller on the female. About the same size as the eye. The males’ eardrums are bigger than the eye.”
“Very good,” the colonel stated. “When it is time for them to breed, it will be easier to tell which is which. During the breeding season, the throat of the male bullfrog is yellow, whereas the female’s is white.”
“When do bullfrogs breed?” Vincent asked. The boy’s eyes were wide with excitement.
“Usually in late spring to late summer,” the colonel explained. “Think April to sometime in August.”
“Then now,” Vincent said excitedly. “Did you hear, Miss Lambert? Maybe our bullfrogs will mate soon.”
“Or they might have already mated,” Mr. Darcy supplied with a lift of his brows in apparent amusement.
“Might we watch them regularly, Miss Lambert?” the child pleaded.
She smoothly laced her arm about the boy’s shoulders. “We must permit Horace, is it? Why ‘Horace’?” she asked as she directed the boy’s steps towards the staircase and his room.
“Because Mr. Darcy said the frog’s croak sounded as if he was ‘hoarse.’ Do you not think the name perfect?” he asked as they climbed the stairs together.
“I most assuredly think the name is just what it should be,” she assured the boy. “And, with moderation, you may tell us all about what you learned. Yet, a gentleman, especially a future earl, must tell such tales with a bit more decorum when he has an audience of ladies than when he is speaking to his mates.”
“Will I have mates when I go to school?”
“I have no doubt you will form a close group of friends, and you will see each other through the good times and the bad. For such is the nature of friendship.”
“Will some have . . . their fun . . . at my . . . expense?” he asked as they turned towards his quarters. His fears and his stutter predictably returned together. She was beginning to understand the boy’s temperament.
“I would like to deny such people exist in the world, but doing so would be an untruth, and I will not purposely lie to you. Many young girls had their day taunting me when I was young, for I grew very quickly and was often gangly and awkward, falling over my own feet. Yet, few would dare to say such mean words to me now, even though I am a simple governess and not a woman with a fair face vying for various gentlemen’s attentions on the dance floor. Their taunts are what made me take up riding so enthusiastically, and I am more than an adequate dancer. I learned things in which I could excel, rather than to dwell on what was not my forte.”
“I wish . . . I was . . . not so slow,” the boy admitted as they came to stand together before his chamber door.
“You possess a great mind for learning, as well as a compassionate heart. You are already head and shoulders above many who would, if you permit it, shepherd you down to their level. They cannot be all you can be, and so they wish to discredit you in order to make themselves feel better, rather than to claim their own roads. School, itself, will be easy: Your ability to learn will not be the problem. Many will consider you too smart and want to mock you for your intelligence. Some will want to mock you for your athletic ability. Some will mock you for your father’s death. There are multiple ways they may employ, but you must remember, we criticize those we wish we could emulate, for if we cannot be as great as them, then we must force them below us so we can shine. I know this is all very intimidating for a child of your nature, but you will find a means to shine despite the craziness of the world. I believe in you, as do the colonel and Mr. and Mrs. Darcy. Should you not accept our estimation, rather than to worry so much on what you cannot control? Perhaps we should speak to both the colonel and Mr. Darcy regarding what to expect at school. The more you know, the easier it will be for you to discover your own special niche of friends.”
“Do you think . . . Mr. Darcy . . . or the colonel . . . had troubles . . . at school?” the boy asked tentatively.
“I suspect Mr. Darcy was a bit more of your nature than is the colonel. Such is not to say Colonel Fitzwilliam is not an intelligent man, but I imagine Mr. Darcy knows facts about obscure subjects that the colonel would consider unnecessary to know. Whereas, the colonel knows a bit more of people than does his cousin. We simply must find you a ‘Colonel Fitzwilliam’ type of friend, and you will be set for life.” An image of her brother Andrew flashed before her eyes. Andrew and Vincent could prove to be great friends, if only—
The possibility of the two boys ever meeting was next to nil. She was a governess in this house—not the colonel’s betrothed. Someday, her parents would discover her whereabouts and come to claim her. “You never meant to become involved in the lives of these people,” she warned herself. “You are playing a role, just as if you are an actress on the stage. Soon, you shall be required to leave the Fitzwilliam household and return to the one belonging to your father.”
“You should hurry along,” she told the boy. “You must change and wash your face and hands before the midday meal. Your sister has returned from school, and you will want to hear her tales.”
In her small quarters, a few minutes later, Jocelyn sat on the edge of her sparse bed. “I mean to set Vincent’s and Victoria’s futures on more solid ground than they are at present. I shall not have them regretting their time with me. As to the colonel, as a governess, I cannot aspire to such a marriage, and, as Miss Romfield, I am promised to another. There is no means to prevent what has been placed into action previously. A loveless marriage awaits me in Kent, while no chance of marriage is my reality in Lincolnshire.”