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

Chapter Fourteen

When Jocelyn saw him off early Tuesday, she was the only one who did so. The twins were still in bed when she departed the house. She wanted to be at the turn in the drive where no one from within the manor house could view her so she might greet him one last time. All of yesterday and most of the night, she had considered how she must move forward, and in none of the situations had she imagined a means for her to remain at William’s Wood and be expected to know his company on a regular basis. She was not built to hide her feelings, and, each day, her affection for the man had grown quickly—too quickly for her own good.

* * *

Edward had known disappointment at not knowing a “taste” of family before he departed for his duties. It was foolish of him to think of Miss Lambert and the twins as his; yet, somehow the image had taken root. Someday, in what he hoped would be the “distant” future, the children might depend upon him for their care, but, in reality, Miss Lambert would eventually move on, once the children were off at boarding school. Perhaps she would prefer the teaching position in Lambton instead. She could possess a bit of independence there. Even find happiness in marriage, an idea which did not please him.

Then, he turned his horse to the open road, and she was there. He reined in quickly, but she said, “Do not dismount.”

He knew he frowned, but he remained upon upon his horse. “You are out early, Miss Lambert.” He waited, watching her while a myriad of expressions flitted across her countenance.

Her shoulders shifted, becoming very stiff. “I wished you to know I mean to leave soon. I will do so once you can return and oversee the house in your brother’s absence. I thought you might wish to add an advert for a proper governess to your list of what you must accomplish.”

“Then you mean to accept Mrs. Darcy’s offer of a teaching position?” he asked.

“No.” She finally raised her eyes to meet his. “It would be too difficult. Though it might not be every day, eventually, we shall again be in company.”

“The children require your attention. They have come to blossom under your care,” he argued.

“And I have found purpose with them,” she countered.

“I will remain away from the manor.” He had already considered that once he married Miss Romfield, he could not subject Miss Lambert to the knowledge of his new obligations.

“I could not ask it of you. Moreover, . . .” she began, but appeared to swallow what she intended to say.

He studied her carefully. “I will see to the hiring of your replacement. You know how to reach me if you have a need of me at the house. I will come immediately.”

“Be safe, sir. The twins and I look forward to learning of your successes.” She turned to walk towards the nearest folly. He could have followed her and attempted to convince her to stay. He could kiss her until she agreed to change her mind. He could go against his father’s edict. He could find a means. If only . . . Yet, he knew such was not in his nature. Therefore, he nudged his horse into an easy canter “Forward,” he whispered to the wind. “To a future without her.”

* * *

Jocelyn had had very little sleep the previous two nights, reliving every moment she had shared with Edward Fitzwilliam, and so, when she crawled into bed, she had been prepared for a full night’s sleep. The house had felt so empty without his presence, and even the twins had spent two listless days, only half-heartedly attending to their lessons. The man had been gone for what felt forever, and they three had suffered much in his absence.

She had attempted not to display her misery, but even Vincent and Victoria had asked to be excused to their quarters early after the evening meal. Lady Annabelle had yet to join them, though Jocelyn and the twins had repeatedly pleaded with the girl to do so.

Jocelyn had been considering writing to her mother and to ask her ladyship’s coach to be sent for her, but she did not wish her parents to know of the Lindales. She would wait until the colonel returned and then leave. She would find a room in a boarding house somewhere near and wait for her parents to fetch her home.

She did not know why someone had thought to enter her small quarters, nevertheless, someone tentatively shook her shoulder. Jocelyn did not wish to leave her dream of the colonel behind, so she swatted at the hand.

“Miss Lambert,” a child’s voice said. “Please wake up.”

Jocelyn bolted upright. “What is amiss?” she asked as she swung her legs over the edge of the bed.

“Vincent says I must tell you,” Victoria declared with a scowl directed towards her brother.

“Must tell me what?” Jocelyn asked as she pulled the girl down beside her on the bed, while reaching her other hand to where Vincent waited by the door.

Victoria again looked to her brother. “Annabelle swore me to secrecy.”

Jocelyn’s heart began to pound harder. “Why did your sister require your silence?”

“She left. That is why,” Vincent stated in angry tones. “Annabelle is not to leave the house without speaking to our mother.”

Victoria frowned. “Our mother is not here. She is never here. How could Annabelle speak to her?”

Jocelyn said in urgency. “Please, Victoria, you must tell me where Lady Annabelle has gone. Has she left the house?” Panic had officially arrived. “Is she still on the estate?”

“Mr. Bartholomew asked to marry her,” Victoria explained.

“Where was Annabelle to meet with this Mr. Bartholomew?” Jocelyn knew how dangerous such a venture as this could be. She must contact the colonel, but, first, she required more information.

Victoria looked away and crossed her arms over her chest in defiance. “I cannot say.”

Jocelyn slid her arm about the girl and gathered the child closer. “I know you mean to protect your sister, and I admire your loyalty and wish there was someone who cared for me as you do Annabelle, but your silence, my love, is not protecting your sister. None of us know anything about this young man. He has never officially called upon Annabelle. Never met her family. Never spoke his intentions to Lord Lindale or your mother. He hid from all of us at the fair, never approaching any among our party, even you or Vincent, who are Annabelle’s closest family. How are his actions to be considered honourable? He was at church on Sunday, but spoke to none of us. It is impossible for any among your family to believe he holds your sister in esteem.

“It is an unfortunate system that demands a family protect their daughters from those who would ruin them in order to force—force, Victoria,” Jocelyn emphasized, “the young woman’s parents to give their daughters over to an unacceptable mate in order to save the rest of the family.”

“I do not understand,” Victoria declared righteously. “How did he hide?”

“I saw two young men and a young lady following us through the fair. Such is the true reason I remained by the roped-off fencing. I watched as your sister boldly walked away with the trio. There are always many unscrupulous people at fairs and other large gatherings who would do harm to those not aware of their surroundings. I do not say this to frighten you against enjoying other entertainments, but, rather, to show you how we all must practice caution.

“I was on the road alone before Mrs. Darcy found me. Even innkeepers would not let me a room, though I had the funds to pay for one, for they feared a single woman would attract an unsavory company. Do you want such for Annabelle? I have seen much when I lived on the Continent and knew something of when to approach a stranger for assistance and when it was best to turn away. Our Annabelle does not possess those types of skills to survive alone. She is accustomed to presenting orders and expecting others to do as she asks. Such will not happen on the road, and we cannot guarantee this Mr. Bartholomew even has met her. What if he did not show up? Your sister could be alone and frightened.”

Victoria broke into tears. “I do not want Annabelle to be alone. I have Vincent, but Annabelle is off alone at school. She says she cries a great deal.”

“We shall bring her home where we all love her, but you must assist me in finding her.”

“Annabelle will be angry at me,” Victoria said through her continued tears.

“Yet, you cannot permit your sister to be in danger if you possess a means to prevent it. If Mr. Bartholomew truly affects our Annabelle, he will call upon her properly, not run off in the night.”

“They were going to Scotland to marry,” Victoria said as the ferocity of her tears increased.

“How do they travel?” Jocelyn implored.

“Annabelle’s coach.”

Jocelyn breathed easier. The smaller coach would require multiple stops to rest the horse. “I mean to go after her.”

“We are not going back to bed,” Vincent said stubbornly.

“I did not think to leave either of you behind. Victoria, you must assist me in reasoning with Annabelle when we find her, and, Vincent, like it or not, you are head of the Babcock family. Therefore, Annabelle must have your permission to marry. She is not yet of age. Now, return to your quarters. Pack a change of clothes and so forth. Be prepared to leave once I arrange for a coach for us.”

“Yes, ma’am,” they chorused as they ran from the room.

Before she left them forever, Jocelyn would see their family reunited and all was well. Therefore, she followed her own orders, dressing quickly and simply. Then, she rushed to the small desk in the schoolroom, lit a candle, and took out paper and a pencil. She had no time to trim a pen and prepare the ink. She wrote of what she had learned of Annabelle’s elopement and her own plan to give chase. She included the identity of the young man who had lured Annabelle from her family in hopes the colonel would know something of the fellow’s family.

Grabbing her cloak, she went down the servant’s passage to exit through the kitchen. Scampering across the back lawn towards the barn, she called for Mr. Jessie before she actually entered the hay-strewn building.

“Mr. Jessie!”

“Yes, miss.”

“You are awake,” she stated in surprise.

“Lady Annabelle sent me to the village, miss, but it be fer no good. I was just preparin’ to come fetch you. The young mistress’s coach be gone.”

“So I have been made aware,” Jocelyn said. “I mean to give pursuit.” She realized Mr. Bartholomew must have come to the estate, for she doubted Annabelle held any knowledge of fastening a horse to a coach. “I need not explain how we must contain all this to as few people as possible.”

“Understand, miss. What ye be requirin’ from me?”

“I will require the small coach for me and the children,” she began.

“Yer takin’ the twins?” he asked in disapproving tones.

“Lady Annabelle confided in her sister. I shall possess a better chance of convincing her to abandon this caper if her brother and sister beg her.”

“I’ll drive the coach meself,” the man declared. “Be ready in a quarter hour.”

“I also require someone to carry a message to the colonel,” she told him.

“Got jist the right man,” he assured.

“Do we know when Lady Annabelle left?” she asked. “I must know how far ahead she might be.”

“Nearly two hours, I’m guessing, miss. I spent more than an hour tryin’ to do as she requested. Said Lady Victoria be ill and be requirin’ a tonic. Got the tonic in me bag.”

“Then, as we have agreed, have someone carry this message to the colonel. The children and I will wish to travel towards Scotland,” she ordered. However, as she turned to reenter the house, Jocelyn suspected she would not be required to travel so far. In her way of thinking, “Mr. Bartholomew” had only to travel far enough for Annabelle to begin to complain how she was exhausted and required her rest and a proper meal. She would be ruined when the two of them shared a room, even if intimacies were not shared. It was already problematic that the pair was traveling together and unchaperoned, but such could be explained as necessary, for there was an “emergency” regarding her mother, but as quickly as the pair let a room together and shared a bed, even fully clothed, Annabelle would be truly ruined. Odd as it would be to say the words aloud, Jocelyn did not think the young man wished to marry Annabelle. He had never presented himself and been denied. There was no reason for an elopement. “There is something rotten in the state of Denmark, that one may smile and smile and be a villain,” she quoted as she raced once again across the back lawn towards the manor house.

* * *

Edward had risen early, shaken awake by a very intimate dream of Miss Rose Lambert. It was not yet daylight, but the moon appeared bright in the night sky. “I will master this,” he told the view outside his chambers at Maitland Manor. “I most assuredly cannot bring Miss Romfield to this house as my wife while wishing to be sharing my bed with another.” He had just turned to ring for his batman when he spotted a lone rider racing towards the manor.

Immediately, he was on the move, dropping a shirt over his head and darting from his room, though still in his stocking feet. He was already descending the stairs as his father’s butler was opening the door to a frantic knock.

“Mayfield,” he said not permitting the butler even to ask of the urgency, “what is amiss at William’s Wood?”

“Don’t quite know, colonel,” the young man said. “Mr. Jessie roused me out a bit short of one in the night. Told me to bring ye this.” He handed Edward a folded over piece of paper.

Though he feared opening it, Edward broke the small spat of wax holding the sheets together. He moved to the side to take advantage of a candle in a sconce so he might scan it quickly to know the gist of the problem. “Mr. Arnold,” he told the butler, “have someone saddle my horse immediately. See that Mayfield here is fed and knows rest before he must return to my brother’s estate.”

“Yes, sir. Should I send up your man/”

“I do not have the time,” he said as he turned in the direction of his quarters. “Do send word, though, to Captain Carlson. Inform him there has been a family situation which requires my immediate attention.”

“I pray it is not Lord Lindale, sir,” Arnold said in apparent worry.

“No. Lindale is unchanged, but one of the children is not.”

Before he climbed into his saddle, a little over a quarter hour later, he handed off a note he had managed to write to his cousin. “Have someone carry this note to Mr. Darcy.”

“Aye, sir. Anything else, sir?” Mr. Arnold asked.

“Keep this crisis quiet until I have a better idea of what has transpired.”

“Yes, sir.”

With that, he was gone. Edward urged his horse into a full gallop before he had even reached the main road. “Bartholomew,” he thought, “I know of no one associated with the ton and of that family name with a young son of marriageable age.” Naturally, he could not know all the young men of the gentry and the aristocracy, but his position with the military had him aware of many of an age to fight for their country. There was one ‘Bartholomew’ associated with the Dubrow family, the youngest brother of Lady Dubrow by a different father; however, he prayed Annabelle was aware of the danger of associating with any branch of the Dubrow family tree. Unfortunately, she had not shown such sense to date. Yet, Edward knew an elopement between the younger Mr. Bartholomew, who likely had no fortune of his own, was possible. Even still, such did not explain the unnamed young man who appeared to be a friend of Mr. Anthony Dubrow. Edward did not think the fellow favored the Dubrow family, for he was lighter of skin and hair; yet, he supposed the fellow could have been a classmate from Oxford. There were too many questions remaining without answers, and the idea frightened him, as the children were traveling with Miss Lambert and likely into a situation none of them thought to see. If it was Bartholomew Dubrow, the fellow would, without a doubt, not permit Miss Lambert to prevent a marriage to Annabelle’s fortune.

She and the children were in danger.

“The lady could be walking, or should I say, riding into a poorly-designed melodrama, when she simply means to protect my family. I cannot permit her to know harm.”