Chapter 7
Seven
I frequently encountered Lord Brookhaven when I was on a walk.
Often he was also taking a walk, but sometimes he was returning from a ride.
Other times it seemed he must be deliberately seeking me out, although I knew that was unlikely.
I’d sometimes been called pretty by my friends, and Mrs. Southey said my manners were very pleasing, but I was not prideful enough to think an earl would be interested in me as more than a mild amusement for when he had no one else with whom to converse.
Indeed, who else did he have for intelligent conversation?
I suppose there was his steward, who was obviously a man of letters, but also was very old and dull, as far as I could ascertain.
Mrs. Merryweather was not a talkative woman, and I could imagine the conversations they had were quite brief.
The butler, Mr. Mims, I wasn’t sure about, but the rector was probably Lord Brookhaven’s friend, as was usually the case with the rector and his patron.
But I’d never seen the earl in conversation with either of them.
In fact, he didn’t seem to be a particularly agreeable or friendly person in general, which made it even more astounding that he conversed so congenially with me.
Today as I rounded a bend in the garden path, I encountered Lord Brookhaven as I often did. He was staring down at the ground while smoking his pipe.
“Miss Robbins. Come here and see this little hedgehog.”
I stepped closer. A little spiny animal was rooting around in the leaves two feet from the toe of Lord Brookhaven’s boot.
“He is very darling.”
“I had one as a pet when I was a boy.”
“Did you?”
“It lived quite well in the little house I made for it for a year and a half. But when I went off to school, someone released it outside and I never saw it again.”
“That is very sad.”
“Did you ever have a pet, Miss Robbins?”
“No, sir. Pets weren’t allowed at Mrs. Southey’s school.”
“And would you have liked to have a pet?”
“I should think so. It seems as if any child would enjoy having a pet.”
“Yes, which is why I’ve decided to get one for Samuel and Annabelle. What do you think?”
“It’s a splendid idea.”
“I was thinking a small dog, one for each of them. Or should I only get one dog and let them share in taking care of it? Which would be best?”
“I don’t know. Either idea should work just fine.”
“I see you are smiling. You like the idea of a pet, then?”
“Yes, sir. I think the children will enjoy taking care of a pet.”
“And you shall enjoy having the dogs around?”
“Well, yes, I believe so.” I couldn’t help smiling. He looked so pleased. And I did feel a lift in my heart as I imagined what it would be like having a pet around.
“What kind of dog should it be?” Lord Brookhaven looked thoughtful. “Perhaps a long-haired dog, soft and eager to be petted and played with? Or a big animal, a mastiff or Great Dane that will watch over the children when they play.”
“That is for you to decide, as their guardian, whether or not you want them to have a smaller, more manageable pet or a watchdog.”
“You are correct, Miss Robbins. I wanted a pet for them, not a canine guardian. Quite right.” He thoughtfully puffed on his pipe.
“There is another reason I was hoping to see you this evening. I wanted to tell you that I’m having a small house party, and I would like you to join the rest of the guests. ”
“Me, sir?”
“Yes, you. Your conversation will be far more interesting than anyone else’s.
My aunt, Lady Derringer, will be helping to host it.
She will arrive soon and will oversee everything, including the making of a few dresses for you.
The dressmaker of Lady Derringer’s choosing will take your measurements. ”
I was at a loss for how to reply. It was so irregular. Wasn’t it? To invite one’s governess to a house party, and to provide clothing for her? Certainly the governess was sometimes allowed to attend a ball, especially if it was a large ball given by her employer, but a small house party?
“Sir, I’m certain I can have little in common with your guests at such a party. I am only the governess.”
“What of it? You are an intelligent woman, are you not? You are a morally upright, free young woman, capable of conversation and dancing. And you will enjoy meeting Lady Derringer. I believe the two of you will get along quite well.”
“I would not belong—”
“You shall belong as well as anyone.” His brows lowered and his eyes were piercing. “No one will dare question my wish for you to be there.”
He stared past me. Finally, he said, “I intend that you will enjoy yourself. I do not have parties often, but . . .”
Leaves rustled in a bush nearby and a dog trotted toward us, followed by a man with a rifle under his arm.
“Thompson.” Lord Brookhaven nodded at the man.
“My lord.”
“Fine evening for a walk. Finding any pheasant?”
“Some.”
“Miss Robbins, this is Thompson. He’s the gamekeeper for the estate and the best shot in the county. Thompson, this is Miss Robbins, the new governess.”
“Pleased, miss.” He tipped the brim of his hat to me, but he hardly glanced in my direction.
I remembered the gamekeeper was on my mental list of possible eligible matches. I felt my cheeks grow warm and was glad the sun had gone down.
Thompson made to walk past us, as his dog had walked on and was sniffing at the base of a tree closer to Lowndesbury House.
“We should be going in,” Lord Brookhaven said, sweeping his hand forward, indicating that I should follow Mr. Thompson. “It’s nearly dark.”
I stepped forward, glad my list was only in my head.
But now that I had seen the gamekeeper, I could cross him off.
He didn’t appear to be married, but he was so gruff and unkempt, so uninterested in me, that I couldn’t imagine ever getting acquainted with him, much less wanting to marry him. Besides, he was more than twice my age.
I felt a small sinking of disappointment. But that feeling faded immediately, as I was buoyed by how Lord Brookhaven had just invited me to his house party.
How strange it was. The gamekeeper was much nearer my station, but it was Lord Brookhaven who conversed with me as if I were his equal.
And it was Lord Brookhaven whose company I longed for, whose face and voice had become dear to me.
Perhaps that was simply the schoolgirl in me.
Having never known the company of gentlemen, of course I would form the type of attachment to Lord Brookhaven that a schoolgirl would naturally feel for a headmaster, or for her first employer.
And Lord Brookhaven was ever so handsome. His face was the height of masculinity, to my mind, and revealed a sort of restrained tension, as in someone who was at war with himself.
But it wasn’t his face that I liked most about Lord Brookhaven. It was that he talked to me. He saw me, actually looked me in the eye and didn’t ignore me, and we discussed real experiences and real feelings. He actually seemed to care about my opinion, and I even felt as though he admired me.
It was silly, I know. But I loved our conversations. They fed something inside me that had been asleep before I met him and now would remain awake for the rest of my life.
We walked silently back to the house, Mr. Thompson quickly outpacing us as he headed around the great house to what was probably the gamekeeper’s cottage somewhere behind it.
When we reached the house, Lord Brookhaven started tapping the tobacco out of his pipe. “Good evening, Miss Robbins.” It was his way of dismissing me.
“Good evening, sir.” I turned on my heel and went inside.
After taking my supper in my room, I sat at the tiny desk where I wrote my letters. I was alone, so I went through the list in my head. I thought of them in alphabetical order so I could better remember them.
Butler
Chef
Estate Steward
Gamekeeper
Head Gardener
Land Steward
Rector
Solicitor
Vicar
I’d added the land steward after Mrs. Merryweather had indicated that there was both an estate steward and a land steward. But I could mentally cross off Chef, Estate Steward, Rector, and now Gamekeeper. There were still five more people on the list.
I thought about my prospects very often when I was alone.
But now my mind was immersed in the conversation I’d just had with Lord Brookhaven.
I tried to remember every word spoken, each of his expressions, what he was wearing, and his movements and mannerisms. I’d never thought about it before, but a pipe was perhaps the most masculine thing in the world, the look and smell of it.
I hoped my husband, whoever he turned out to be, liked to smoke a pipe.
“I hurt my finger.” Annabelle held up her finger to show a very tiny scratch.
I made a face of compassion and clicked my tongue against my teeth.
By now I was accustomed to Annabelle’s wounds.
Every day, it seemed, she had a new bruise or scrape, sometimes invisible, that required some measure of doctoring.
I figured it was her way of getting attention, while Samuel’s way was to say and do something slightly mischievous.
Compared to other governess stories I’d heard, it was more endearing than annoying.
“Your poor finger,” I said, looking at it quite gravely. “Shall I find a bandage for it?”
Annabelle nodded.
I had started keeping a stash of bandages in my desk. I soon had the finger wrapped and tied.
“There. All better?”
Annabelle nodded again.
Samuel laid his head on his child-sized desk. “That scratch is so tiny. Don’t be such a baby, Annabelle.”
“I’m not being a baby.” Annabelle scrunched her face at her brother.