Chapter Nine
Lady Pufferton arrived on a Tuesday, in a carriage so fine that the staff lined up to watch it roll through the gates.
"Who is she?" Eliza asked Mrs. Crawford, peering through the nursery window as the elegant vehicle came to a stop before the main entrance.
"She is a Countess. She was a great friend of the late Duchess, the Duke's mother. She used to visit every summer when His Grace was a boy." Mrs. Crawford's voice carried a note of wistfulness. "We haven't seen her since the funeral."
Eliza watched as a footman hurried to open the carriage door, and a woman emerged; silver-haired, elegantly dressed, with the confident bearing of someone who had spent a lifetime being obeyed.
"She looks formidable," Eliza said.
"She is. But she is kind, underneath it all.
The old Duchess used to say that Lady Pufferton had a heart like a bonfire; warm enough to heat a castle, but capable of burning down anyone who threatened those she loved.
" Mrs. Crawford smoothed her apron. "I'd best go down.
Her ladyship will want tea, and likely a tour of the house to see what's changed. "
She bustled away, leaving Eliza at the window with Henry, who had abandoned his lessons to watch the excitement.
"Is she a princess?" he asked, craning his neck to see the visitor's elaborate hat.
"A countess. That's almost as grand."
"Will she want to meet me?"
"I imagine so. You're the heir to Northmere, after all. Very important people always want to meet very important children."
Henry considered this with his characteristic gravity. "I hope she doesn't pinch my cheeks. Miss Worthington's aunt used to pinch my cheeks. It was awful."
"If she tries to pinch your cheeks, I'll create a diversion."
"What kind of diversion?"
"I'll think of something. Perhaps I'll pretend to faint. That usually distracts people."
Henry giggled—that bright, bubbling sound that still made Eliza's heart swell every time she heard it. "You wouldn't really faint."
"I'm an excellent fainter. Very dramatic. I once fainted so convincingly that a footman threw water on me."
"Did you really?"
"No. But it makes a good story."
They were still laughing when the nursery door opened and Mr. Blackwood appeared, his expression carefully neutral in the way that meant something significant was about to happen.
"Miss Harrow. Lady Pufferton has requested your presence in the drawing room."
Eliza's laughter died. "My presence? Are you certain?"
"Quite certain. She asked specifically for the governess. By name."
By name. That was... unexpected. Eliza had never met Lady Pufferton, had no connection to her, and she could think of no reason why a countess would want to speak with a governess.
"Should I bring Lord Henry?"
"Her ladyship did not mention Lord Henry. Only you."
Eliza exchanged a glance with the boy, who looked as confused as she felt. "I'll be back soon," she told him. "Practice your letters while I'm gone. And remember that the tail of the 'g' curves this way."
"I know, I know." But he was smiling as he said it, and he waved cheerfully as she followed Blackwood out of the nursery.
The walk to the drawing room felt longer than usual.
Eliza's mind raced with possibilities. Had she done something wrong?
Was Lady Pufferton here to complain about some breach of protocol?
Had someone told tales about her confrontation with the Duke in the garden, or worse, about the midnight conversation in the hallway?
But when she entered the drawing room, Lady Pufferton's face showed nothing but warm curiosity.
"Ah, Miss Harrow. Please, come in. Sit down." The countess gestured to a chair near her own, ignoring the more distant seat that propriety would have suggested for a servant. "I've heard a great deal about you."
Eliza sat, her back straight, her hands folded in her lap. "From whom, if I may ask, my lady?"
"From everyone." Lady Pufferton's eyes, sharp and knowing, studied her with frank interest. "The servants can't stop talking about the miracle you've worked with young Lord Henry.
The stable master says you've tamed Sovereign.
And Alistair…" She paused, a small smile playing at her lips.
"Alistair mentioned you in his letters. Which is remarkable, given that he usually writes about nothing but crop yields and drainage improvements. "
Eliza felt heat flood her cheeks. "I'm sure His Grace was simply reporting on Lord Henry's progress."
"He was reporting on considerably more than that, though I don't think he realised it." Lady Pufferton leaned back in her chair, her assessment continuing. "You're younger than I expected. And prettier. That hair is quite remarkable…I can see why it caught his attention."
"My lady…"
"Oh, don't look so alarmed. I'm not here to interrogate you about my godson." The casual revelation, godson, made Eliza's eyes widen. "I'm here because I have a proposition for you."
"A proposition?"
"I have a daughter. Marguerite. She's eighteen, just out, and frankly driving me to distraction.
" Lady Pufferton sighed with the weary affection of a mother who loved her child but found her exhausting.
"She needs a companion. Someone sensible, intelligent and capable of keeping her from making catastrophic decisions during her first Season.
Someone who can teach her to think before she speaks and consider consequences before she acts. "
Eliza's confusion deepened. "I'm not sure I understand…"
"I'm offering you a position, Miss Harrow.
As a companion to my daughter. You would live with us in London during the Season, travel with us to our country estates, and be treated as a member of the family rather than a servant.
" Lady Pufferton named a salary that made Eliza's breath catch.
"It's nearly double what you're earning here, I expect.
Plus, a clothing allowance, of course, because you'd need to be dressed appropriately for the entertainments you'd attend. "
The world seemed to tilt. Eliza gripped the arms of her chair, trying to process what she was hearing.
"You're offering me... a position in London?"
"I'm offering you a future." Lady Pufferton's voice softened.
"I know what it is to be a woman of limited means and excellent education.
I know how few options we have. A governess position is respectable, but it's also limiting.
You'll spend your best years in nurseries and schoolrooms, watching other people's children grow up, and when you're too old to be useful, you'll be turned out with nothing but references and memories. "
The words struck home with painful accuracy.
Eliza had thought about this; she had lain awake at night contemplating the narrow path her life would take.
Governess to governess position, each one a little less prestigious as she aged, until finally she was too old and too tired and there was nowhere left to go.
"A companion's position is different," Lady Pufferton continued. "You would have status, connections and opportunities to meet eligible gentlemen, should you wish to marry. And if you don't wish to marry, you would still have a place with Marguerite and me, for as long as you want it."
Eliza's mind raced. She thought of her mother, who had died young and left her children with nothing but love and memories.
She thought of her father, working himself to exhaustion in a parish that could barely afford to keep him, dying before he could see any of his children settled.
She thought of her siblings, scattered now to positions of their own—governesses and tutors and clerks, all of them one illness or one displeased employer away from destitution.
This offer was… security. Real security, not the fragile kind that depended on keeping a duke's favour and a child's affection.
"That's... extraordinarily generous, my lady."
"It's practical. I need someone capable, and from everything I've heard, you're the most capable woman in Yorkshire.
" Lady Pufferton smiled, but her eyes were sharp, assessing.
"Besides, I loved Alistair's mother like a sister, and I've watched him freeze himself into a statue for years.
If you've managed to thaw him even slightly, you must be remarkable indeed. "
"I haven't…I'm just doing my job…"
"My dear, the servants tell me that he takes breakfast with his brother now, that he joins the boy for lessons and that he laughed at something Lord Henry said last week.
" Lady Pufferton leaned forward, her voice dropping.
"I've known Alistair since he was born. I watched him grow from a happy, affectionate child into the coldest man in England.
And you've accomplished what six years of my letters, visits and pleading couldn't manage.
If that's 'just doing your job,' then you're considerably better at your job than anyone has a right to be. "
Eliza didn't know what to say. She thought of Alistair and of the night at her door, his voice rough with confession: I can't stop thinking about you.
Was that her doing? Had she really thawed something in him?
And if she had? What did that mean? What did it change?
"I would need to give notice," she heard herself say. "I couldn't leave Lord Henry without proper…"
"Of course. I wouldn't expect you until spring.
That gives you several months to find a suitable replacement and ensure Lord Henry's education continues smoothly.
" Lady Pufferton reached over and patted her hand.
"Think about it, my dear. You don't need to answer today.
But do consider what's best for your future. "
What's best for your future…
Not what she wanted. Not what made her heart race, her skin flush and her body ache with longing, but what was practical, sensible and safe.
"I will think about it," Eliza said. "Thank you, my lady. For the offer, and for... for seeing me as something more than a governess."