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

Chapter Twenty-One

It was the fourth day of her recovery before Jocelyn could sit up for any length of time. Mr. Harwell had come regularly to change out her bandages. “I would like to see the lady on her feet a few times each day. Her first goal is to walk unsupported to the end of this passageway and back.”

As always, when Harwell made his call, Vincent remained in the open doorway with his back turned to her bed, but the child said, “I will assist her, sir.”

Harwell chuckled. “If you play your cards correctly, you could someday be a countess,” he said softly.

She smiled easily. “I think that privilege . . . will belong to one . . . of Lady Victoria’s friends . . . in Lincolnshire,” she said in secretive tones as the surgeon untied the bandages about her arm and gently tore it away from the dried blood.

Harwell looked to the boy and back before he continued to change her bandages. He whispered, “I am surprised he has even spoken to the girl.”

“No talk, except . . . a mention of her . . . looking well . . . each day, but . . . he listens closely.”

“Ah, the ‘closely listening’ clue. It is accurate every time.” He said no more until he tied off the ends of her bandage and readjusted the sleeve of her gown over it to secure her modesty. “Then you are to be the beloved governess of whom he often speaks fondly.” He straightened the blanket across her lap. “Lord Babcock, you may rejoin us,” Harwell called out.

The boy turned around immediately and returned to his place at the end of the bed. “Does Miss Lambert heal properly, sir?” he asked solemnly.

“Your friend is as strong as she is loyal to you. Miss Lambert is an exemplary patient.”

The boy nodded his gratitude. “Are there additional instructions for her care?”

Vincent sounded so mature, even though his voice was still a bit squeaky. The idea touched Jocelyn’s heart. She would never have chosen the chaos of this last week as a “teaching” moment, but now that she was on the mend, she was glad to view the boy’s new “confidence.”

Harwell said, “Between your diligence and Mrs. Darcy’s care, I believe it will only be a matter of a few weeks before Miss Lambert can return to her duties.” The man placed his instruments in his bag. “I will call again tomorrow.” He bowed to the boy and then to her. “Nothing too strenuous, but a few steps, say five or six times daily. Your legs suffered only a few cuts. They will support you. However, you must make adjustments in your gait, for a person’s arms assist in balancing his or her manner of walking.” He turned to the boy. “You are challenged with clearing a path for her. No loose carpets or protruding chair legs. Nothing over which she might stumble. For the time being, she has only one arm to prevent her fall.”

“Aye, sir.”

“Although it is not my place to suggest,” the man continued, “it seems to me your sisters might assist you with all the changes going on about you, my lord.”

“They are stubborn,” the boy declared.

“And you are the earl. It is the earldom which provides for them. For their food and clothing and what not.” With that, the man was gone.

Jocelyn said with a knowing smile, “You might ‘insist’ they call.”

* * *

It had been four days since he had departed Yorkshire. Although he had expected to overtake Jennings by now, he had not. The man had left behind all those he considered an encumbrance. Late yesterday, Edward had discovered Marksham’s mother and the young man’s brother and sister near Norfolk. Jennings had abandoned them, and not knowing where to turn, the woman had sought assistance from the local sheriff, who had placed her in a small boarding house room with her two younger children, in anticipation of Lord Marksham retrieving her.

“How long ago did Philip Jennings abandon you?” Edward asked, when he and the sheriff called upon the woman.

Lady Marksham looked cautiously to the sheriff before she responded. “Five in the morning. I woke and they were gone. No word beforehand.”

“And they were traveling to . . . ?” the colonel asked. He was fully aware of the lengths to which Jennings would go to escape.

“My sister did not say,” the woman claimed.

“I see.” Edward picked up his gloves and turned to the sheriff. “Mr. Jennings is passing himself off as his late brother. He has stolen from the earldom, and, I imagine also from the lady’s husband, Lord Marksham. I have captured her eldest son, who attempted to kill the current Lord Babcock. Mr. Marksham has testified that Jennings asked him to do harm to the late Lord Babcock’s son in exchange for protection of his mother and siblings.”

“No offense meant in my asking,” the sheriff questioned, “but how come you to be following these people?”

Edward thought, “It is time to toss in the appropriate names of the aristocracy.”

“My brother, Lord Lindale, is married to the late Lord Babcock’s widow and is stepfather to the young earl and the boy’s two sisters. As my brother and Lady Lindale were away from home, enjoying the sea air on Guernsey, along with our parents, Lord and Lady Matlock of Derbyshire, I was overseeing the children’s daily activities, along with their governess, in their parents’ absence. Unfortunately, while I was tending to my duties to our dear King George as a colonel in the British Army, Jennings lured his eldest niece home with the purpose of being rid of the young earl when the boy gave pursuit. All, including me, converged on the Yorkshire manor housing the family seat, for we suspected something was afoot. Now, that Jennings has made a failed attempt on harming the young earl, he is hoping to escape to Europe. Such is the reason I have been trailing him along our coastline. He has sought a ship to take on seven passengers. Now, with his abandonment of Lady Marksham, he only requires one who will take on two adults and two children. Much easier to find.”

“What should I do with the lady and her children, sir?” the man asked.

“Generally, I would be less severe, but as Lady Marksham and her eldest have willingly participated in this venture, they should be detained until all this can be sorted out by the proper authorities,” he instructed. “My brother and my father will stand the cost of detaining her, rather than placing the burden on your citizenry.”

“That be mighty fine of you, sir. I’ll see to it,” the man declared.

“My husband is a baron,” the woman protested.

“A baron who has taken up with another woman, rather than to maintain his marriage, and who has planned to request a divorce before the House of Lords. This escapade will assist Marksham in his plea. There will be no reason to drag your son’s paternity through the muddy waters of a public divorce. Mr. Marksham has attempted to murder an earl of the realm. Lord Marksham will know shame, but he has no need to destroy his own ancestral lines in such a public manner. Your actions to assist Philip Jennings, at all cost, will prove Lord Marksham’s claim that your eldest belongs to Jennings.” As he dug in his inside pocket for a card, Edward said, “I must continue my search and return to my duties to the King.” He handed the sheriff the card. “All expenses may be addressed to my father.”

“I will see it done, sir. I hope you find the man soon.”

“As do I. I am not of the nature to relish the idea of following the man to Europe. I saw enough of both America and Europe in service to the King to last me a lifetime. Gratefully, your harbormaster assures me I am most likely to discover Jennings in Kent. I will start with Dover.” With that, he left the sheriff at the boarding house and mounted his waiting horse. At least Kent was familiar ground. “Keep Miss Lambert safe, God. I mean to return to the lady when this madness ends.”

* * *

“I have a letter from the colonel,” Mr. Darcy said when he entered her room through the adjoining door. Another two days had passed, and Jocelyn had worried much in regards to the man. Mrs. Darcy had been assisting the girls with their drawing lessons. Though she claimed not to be much of an artist, the woman was quite talented, more so than was Jocelyn. Yet, like her, Mrs. Darcy’s talents rested in depictions of nature and furniture and architectural features. No portraits. Earlier, Mrs. Darcy and the girls had gathered leaves and flowers to practice their sketching skills. Meanwhile, Jocelyn had been assisting Lord Vincent with his Latin conjugations.

Initially, Ladies Annabelle and Victoria had ignored their brother’s “request” to make their apologies to “Miss Lambert.” The girls had stubbornly refused, meaning Lady Annabelle had refused, and Lady Victoria had followed suit. However, they had no true concept of “stubbornness,” for Vincent had taken Mr. Harwell’s advice, quite literally. The boy had ordered all their clothes and personal items removed from Annabelle’s and Victoria’s suites, which was followed by a second order that no food was to be delivered to his sisters and no servants were to respond to the girls’ pleas for attendance. The young ladies held out for a little over twenty-four hours before making their apologies. However sincere they were, Jocelyn did not know, but the two had learned a lesson that would go far in society.

As for her own folly, Jocelyn had forgotten that particular lesson: Her parents had only acted in a manner they thought would be best for her.

They all paused to listen to Mr. Darcy’s report. Vincent had climbed down from the bed where they had been working together. “What is the news, sir? Has the colonel found my uncle?” the child asked.

“Not yet. But Fitzwilliam will not stop until he does,” Mr. Darcy assured.

“Then please speak of what the colonel reports, sir,” the child instructed.

Mr. Darcy nodded his appreciation of the child’s response. “The colonel found Lady Marksham and the woman’s younger children outside of Norfolk. Mr. Jennings’s family left in the night’s middle, abandoning Lady Marksham without funds or a means to contact her husband. Fitzwilliam has asked the sheriff to detain them, guaranteeing Matlock will pay the price of their incarceration while the matter is resolved.”

“Then my uncle has escaped?” the child asked in fearful tones.

“Not yet,” Mr. Darcy assured. “The harbormaster at Norfolk reported that a ship large enough to accommodate passengers and setting sail for Europe would be docking along the Kentish shoreline. Likely near the estuary, for the Thames is too low at this time for many of ships to sail all the way to London. There has been a lack of rain to feed the river’s flow. The colonel will begin with Dover and keep looking until he finds them.”

“Is it terrible . . . if I pray . . . the colonel knows success?” the boy asked cautiously. The pauses indicated the child was deeply moved by the situation. “Should I not . . . care for my . . . Uncle Philip?”

“You could pray for Colonel Fitzwilliam’s safety,” Jocelyn suggested from where she still sat propped up in the bed. “Leave the rest in God’s hand.”

The child turned to her. “Might I be . . . excused for . . . a bit . . . Miss Lambert?”

“Most assuredly,” she told the boy, whose expression spoke of his intentions. “Now that Mr. Darcy is here, I should follow Mr. Harwell’s continued instructions to walk the passageway again.”

The boy nodded his gratitude and exited before his sisters could offer an opinion.

Mrs. Darcy instructed the girls to place their sketchbooks away and then wash their hands for the midday meal would be served soon. “Mr. Purdy will ring the bell when all is prepared,” the lady assured them as they left for their own chambers.

Meanwhile, Mr. Darcy was beside Jocelyn’s bed, prepared to assist her to her feet. “Your shoes await you, Miss Lambert.”

Jocelyn grinned at him. “Mrs. Darcy has trained you well, sir.”

“Mr. Darcy claims he sought me out for the liveliness of my mind. I termed my sharp tongue as impertinence. The fact is my dear husband was sick of civility, of deference, as well as officious attention. He had tired, and was a bit disgusted with the women who were always speaking of what they thought he would approve and agreeing with his every opinion, even when said opinions were absurd. I roused and interested him because I was so unlike them.” She paused to straighten the line of her dress. “In truth, if my dear husband had not been really amiable, he would have hated me for it. Yet, he was always noble and just.”

“High praise indeed, Mr. Darcy,” Jocelyn teased.

“It is my easygoing nature that my wife adores,” he said with a straight face, though his lips twitched ever so slightly.

“I adore your devotion to our child, our tenants, our home, and the surrounding village. I adore that you are a man of great vision, high intelligence, and . . .” the lady paused briefly before adding with a giggle, “a man of excellent taste in dress, books, fine wines, and wives.”

Before more quips could be exchanged between the pair, Mrs. Murray appeared at the door. “Pardon, Mrs. Darcy. There is a couple below, along with a child. They say you wrote to them of their daughter being injured and how the lady could be found at Babbington Hall.”

“Mama?” Jocelyn caught at Mr. Darcy’s arm.

“Show them up, Mrs. Murray,” Mrs. Darcy instructed.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“No walk for now, Mr. Darcy,” Jocelyn declared, suddenly out of breath. “Might you instead assist me to a chair before the fire? I have worried my parents enough. It would break my mother’s heart if she viewed me in a bed as I was a few days prior.”

As quick as Mr. Darcy could, he seated her, but there was no time for much more than her to straighten the seams of her clothing over her bandage, before they could hear her parents in the passageway. Jocelyn swallowed her anxiousness just as her mother burst through the open door ahead of her father and Andrew. Her ladyship paused for a second to sweep the room with her eyes until they landed on her. “Oh, my dear girl,” she declared before she rushed to Jocelyn’s side, leaning down to kiss her forehead and both her cheeks. “I have been worried witless.”

Her mother thought to embrace her, but Mr. Darcy warned, “The lady’s arm is bandaged heavily.”

Her mother dropped to her knees to catch Jocelyn’s free hand. “You are alive,” she said as she caressed Jocelyn’s cheek. “I could not believe my prayers had been answered.” She looked back to Elizabeth Darcy. “You are Mrs. Darcy?”

“I am, ma’am,” Elizabeth stated. “I did not wish to worry you. In fact, I did not know of Rose’s—I suppose I must accustomed myself to say ‘Jocelyn’s’—condition when I sent my message. Such is why I sent the second shorter note.”

“I, for one, am deeply in your debt, ma’am,” her father announced. He turned to where Mr. Darcy waited close by. “You must be Darcy.” Her father extended his hand to the man. “I would have thought you were George Darcy, except it would be impossible for your father not to have aged. You were perhaps a youth of eleven or twelve when Celine and I departed England.”

“I recall something of the look of Lady Romfield when she was young. I always thought she and Sir Lewis were nothing alike.”

“Do not permit Lady Catherine to hear you say such things,” her father replied. “This is my son Andrew.”

“How old are you, Andrew?” Mrs. Darcy asked.

“Ten, ma’am, but nearly eleven.”

“How excellent,” the lady declared. “As I explained in my letter, Miss Romfield has been caring for Lord Lindale’s stepchildren. This house is part of the earldom Lord Babcock will inherit. Lord Vincent Jennings is also ten, as is his youngest sister, Lady Victoria. They are twins.”

“Was it Lord Babcock you protected?” her father asked as he came to sit on the other side of her.

“I have been governess to the Babcock children,” Jocelyn shared. She paused to wait for her mother’s complaints, but none arrived. “They are quite inquisitive children, especially Lord Babcock. The governess before me mistreated the boy, for he is very structured. We all believe such is his tool for dealing with the loss of his father and being uprooted to Lincolnshire.” She smiled in thinking of Vincent. “His lordship has stood as guardian of my care.”

“You never realized Lord Lindale was brother to the man to whom you were promised?” her father asked.

“Mother never provided me names, and even if she did, I was too angry with the prospects to listen carefully. Lady Catherine’s name is the only one I recalled, and that was because she frightened me when she and Sir Lewis visited us on the Continent.”

“You were still a small child then.”

“In my estimation, my Elizabeth is the only one who was never truly frightened of my aunt,” Mr. Darcy said. “They have had more than one confrontation, but my aunt respects my wife and now sees the sensibility of my choosing her. I greatly admire how well Aunt Catherine has kept Sir Lewis’s estate for their daughter Anne, but her ladyship can often be high in the instep, as she is the eldest of the late Lord Matlock’s children.”

Mrs. Darcy also responded, “I do not know what all was shared with Jocelyn before she set out on this adventure, but I can speak of her condition when I found her on the road in Cambridgeshire. I took her to my eldest sister’s home and tended her there: She was quite exhausted from a lack of sleep, as well as food, and she was a bit disoriented. I would say, and I believe your daughter would agree, she learned a valuable lesson regarding a woman traveling alone. Only one innkeeper permitted her to sleep in his kitchen before the fire. Despite having funds to pay for her room, she was forced to sleep in fallow fields and barns.

“During those initial hours of her collapse, she begged me, but, essentially you, Lady Romfield, to forgive her, but it was when she mentioned Lady Catherine having arranged a marriage and then learning from my husband that his cousin had been turned away from your estate, for your daughter ‘supposedly’ was down with the measles, that I took it on myself to ‘manage’ a meeting between Miss Romfield and the colonel. I felt they were a good match, especially if the restraints of an arranged marriage were removed, and they could learn to depend upon each other.”

“When did you learn of this manipulation, Jocelyn?” her father asked.

“As far as Mrs. Darcy writing to you, Mr. Darcy shared his wife’s secret while he was tending me before the surgeon arrived,” Jocelyn explained. “I did not know Colonel Fitzwilliam was Lady Catherine’s suggested match for me until the twins and I were traveling to Babbington Hall. Vincent was describing lessons on the boy’s ancestors which Mr. Darcy had shared with him. As it turns out, Mother, the original Babcocks were ‘Burkes’ in Ireland during the Norman invasion and, later, ‘Burghes’ and ‘de Bourghs’ in England. The boy was very excited to be related, though from very distant lines, to both Mr. Darcy and the colonel. It was then that I realized I must tell the colonel of my true identity, but Mr. Jennings wished to prevent Vincent from entering the house as the rightful Earl Babcock.” She shrugged realizing her explanation was as unbelievable as her thoughts at this moment. “Fate, I suppose.”

“Or our prayers to God,” Mrs. Darcy suggested.

“Were you truly shot?” Andrew asked.

“In the shoulder,” she assured, though she wished her parents would respond to what she had just shared. “The remnants of the bullet are in the drawer by the bed. It went through me and struck Lord Vincent’s arm.”

“May I see?” her brother asked.

“Not appropriate,” her father said in that special tone all parents develop, and her brother shrank back behind the chair, but Jocelyn suggested, “Perhaps Lord Babcock will show you his arm.”

Andrew brightened with the idea.

“Where is Colonel Fitzwilliam now?” her father asked. “I would speak to him if he is available.”

Mr. Darcy responded, “My cousin captured the man who actually shot Miss Romfield. Now, he is chasing after the young lord’s uncle, who set this madness into action. Philip Jennings is the younger brother of the late Lord Babcock. He does not believe his nephew should be the earl. He has spread rumors regarding the child’s mental ability and other such tales so he might be placed in the position as the boy’s guardian. In my opinion, Lord Vincent would have ‘conveniently’ died under Jennings’s care. According to Fitzwilliam’s latest communication, Jennings is pretending to be his late brother.”

“Such is enough for the moment,” Mrs. Darcy declared. “This conversation might be continued in more detail a bit later.” She called out, “Mrs. Murray.”

The housekeeper had evidently been waiting for her orders. “Yes, ma’am.”

“The Romfields will require appropriate quarters, and we should set three extra places for the midday meal and moving forward until I instruct otherwise,” Mrs. Darcy told the housekeeper.

“I have already set maids to the task of airing out the rooms and sent word to Cook regarding the meals. I have assigned Lucy to tend Lady Romfield and Samuel to tend his lordship.”

“And young Mr. Romfield?” Mrs. Darcy asked with a typical lift of her eyebrows, not in challenge, but, rather, in leading someone to consider her unspoken suggestion. Jocelyn admired how the woman always appeared to be ten steps ahead of everyone else in making decisions.

“If it is not objectionable to Lord and Lady Romfield, I thought perhaps young Master Romfield might enjoy the quarters across from Lord Babcock. The children appear to be of a comparable age, and Anthony could attend them both, if such is acceptable.”

Jocelyn quickly suggested to her brother, “You might tell Vincent something of your time at Harrow. He has yet to be off to school and is very curious regarding what to expect.”

“Might I, Mother?” Andrew asked. “I would like to have a friend with whom to share.”

“I see no reason not,” her mother assured. “Will you be joining us for the meal, Jocelyn?”

“I am not quite up to proper table manners, as of yet,” she explained. “Perhaps father may assist me back to the bed. Mrs. Murray has a maid who tends me during my meals. One never considers how hard it is to place food in one’s mouth with a single hand available for the task; yet, you have my word, it is challenging. Afterwards, you may return to keep me company. I have missed you terribly.”

Mr. Darcy said, “Come along, Mr. Romfield. I will show you to your quarters and introduce you to our Lord Vincent. It will be useful for all if I explain to the boy that his ‘Miss Lambert’ is really ‘Miss Romfield.’ Vincent will not understand without my explanation and my assurances all is still well with his governess.”

When they disappeared into the corridor, her father came around to assist her to her feet. “Easy, my girl,” he said as he braced her weight against his shoulder. “We do not wish you to know more harm.”

“Mr. Harwell, the surgeon, calls in the afternoon to change my bandages. You may pepper him with any remaining questions then, for I am confident you have many.”

“I would be highly interested in what the man has to say of the matter,” her father declared.

Her mother asked as she rearranged the bedding, “Do we know where Colonel Fitzwilliam is at this time?”

Mrs. Darcy responded before Jocelyn could right herself in the bed and do so. “Ironically, the last we heard from my husband’s cousin, the colonel was chasing Philip Jennings to Kent. He should be near your estate for the next few days.”