Page 5 of The Defiant Governess
Dear Mrs., Fairchild,
I regret to inform you that the young lady I recommended to you, Miss Mary
Langley, will be unable to take up the post of governess to the Marquess of
Saybrook’s ward due to her forthcoming marriage. I know you expected her to
arrive in a week’s time, and I am most sorry for any trouble this
will cause you. Unfortunately I know of no other persons with the proper
qualifications in this area that I might recommend to you. It is to be hoped that
others of your acquaintances will be of more help to you.
Respectfully,
Miss Nancy Withers
Jane refolded the letter and put it back in her pocket. As Midnight continued his leisurely gait homeward, she patted it thoughtfully and a small smile crept to her lips, one of grim satisfaction.
Two
“Mary, I wish you joy, truly I do,” said Jane as she hugged her childhood friend. Though Mary Langley was the daughter of one of her father’s tenant farmers, they had become fast friends as little girls and spent countless hours playing together. Nanna had encouraged the friendship, sensing that the motherless little girl needed the female companionship. With the duke’s approval, she had even seen to it that Mary had been included in some schooling, noting that as well as making the time more enjoyable for Jane and Thomas, it was also providing the girl with a means of bettering her own life when she grew up. A well-educated girl could find work as a governess or companion, a step above being a farmer’s wife.
Even as the girls grew up and the gap between their social status stretched more obviously between them, Jane never forgot her friend. The two of them still spent time together, Mary listening raptly to the descriptions of balls, evening gowns and—heaven on heaven—the Assemblies at Almack’s.
“Oh, Jane!” replied Mary, as the two friends took a seat on the simple iron bedstead. “I’m up in the boughs. I don’t deserveto be so happy!” She shot her friend a guilty look. “I’m sorry about you and your father. Perhaps His Grace?—”
“Let us not talk of my problems.” Jane smiled. “I have faith that they won’t prove to be insurmountable,” she said obliquely. “Now, about Martin. I have always liked him. Tell me all about him. …”
“Oh, dear” finished Mary, after chattering on for a quarter hour. “I’ve been a prosy bore, haven’t I, rattling on like this? I’ve kept you far to long.”
“Not at all. I’ve thoroughly enjoyed myself.”
Jane got up and began wandering around the neat little whitewashed bedroom that Mary shared with a younger sister. A trunk was half packed in expectation of her friend’s coming move and one or two dresses lay draped over a wooden chair.
“Tell me,” murmured Jane. “Have you a few simple dresses—preferably grey or mouse brown—that you’d be willing to sell to me?”
Mary looked at her in astonishment. “Why, whatever for?”
Jane sat back down on the bed and threw her arm around her friend’s shoulders. “Do you promise no to tell a soul?”
Mary laughed, the scene so reminiscent of countless times before—Jane always instigating some mischief and herself a not too unwilling partner. “Why is it that I sense I should leave the room right now?”
“No, no, it’s nothing to be worried about,” assured Jane. “There’s really nothing for you to do.”
Mary rolled her eyes. “How many times have I heard that!”
“Truly. Just the dresses and your vow of silence.”
“Go on. You know I can’t say no to you. And besides, I’m dying of curiosity.”
“You are engaged to be governess to the Marquess of Saybrook’s ward …”
“Wasengaged,” corrected Mary. “You know very well that Nanna has written my regrets.”
“No indeed she hasn’t. In fact tomorrow a letter is to be posted informing the housekeeper that Miss Langley will arrive on the twenty-first, as expected.”
