Page 9 of The Defiant Governess
Peter looked sideways at Mrs. Fairchild, who nodded encouragingly. Then, a fondness for sweets overcoming his shyness, he tentatively reached out and chose a sugared walnut cake.
“Those are my favorite, too” said Jane in a confidential tone. “I particularly dislike gooseberry tarts because they have a nasty habit of falling off windowsills.”
The green eyes momentarily widened, and then she was rewarded by the merest glimmer of a smile before the pastry disappeared into the boy’s mouth.
Jane turned to Mrs. Fairchild. “Perhaps Peter could show me around. I daresay I’ve kept you long enough from your duties, but I would like to see the schoolroom as well as the rest of the house so I may begin to learn my way around.”
The housekeeper nodded in approval of the plan, adding a grateful smile of thanks. “What a splendid idea. Peter, why don’t you start upstairs with the schoolroom.” She rose and picked up the tea tray herself. “I should like it if you would dine withme tonight. Miss Langley. At six, if you please.” With that, she bustled out of the room.
“Shall we start?” asked Jane gently. “Or would you like another cake?”
Peter shook his head. His gaze had returned to the floor and without looking up he turned around. “Follow me ... if you please,” he mumbled.
The heavy door presented a bit of a problem. Even using both hands, Peter found it difficult to budge, but Jane let him manage. With a shove of his shoulder he made it swing open.
“Thank you, sir,” She smiled as he held it open for her.
He didn’t answer but moved ahead of her, leading the way back up the ornate stairway and past her own room. From behind she was able to study him more closely. He was a delicate child, with narrow shoulders which were now tight with apprehension. And yet he moved with a cat-like grace unusual for his age—Mrs. Fairchild had said he was eight, but he looked even younger. Perhaps, she mused, it was because his features were so finely chiseled, for in fact he was a beautiful child. Or perhaps it was because he looked so vulnerable …
Her thoughts were interrupted by their arrival at the schoolroom. Peter dutifully opened the door and stepped aside for her to enter. It had an air of familiarity to it—the pine desks scarred by generations of pupils, the slates grey with years of chalk markings, the bookshelves crammed with dogeared volumes, the scent of paper, ink and chalk …
Jane felt a quick pang of homesickness as she looked around, before adding, “What a nice room. Tell me, Peter, do you know your letters?”
The boy nodded.
“And can you do sums?”
He hesitated, then nodded again.
“Good, though I think you probably dislike them as much as I did. She smiled, hoping for some response from the boy, but he still remained stonefaced. “Well,” she went on. “Then let us start with some history and geography.”
Jane wandered to the governess’s desk and absently picked up a ruler that lay there. The boy instinctively flinched. She put it down nonchalantly, as if she hadn’t noticed his reaction, and felt a hot surge of anger towards the guardian who could be so neglectful of his ward that physical abuse went unnoticed.
“And of course, we will learn harder sums and read the works of famous authors.” She stopped by the tall shelves and looked at the spines of the leatherbound books. Spotting a set of children’s novels on the exploits of King Arthur and Round Table, Jane couldn’t hold back her enthusiasm. “Oh, these are wonderful books!” Impulsively she turned to the boy. “Would you like me to read the first volume to you?”
Peter looked at her in surprise. “I don’t know,” he finally answered.
“Has no one ever read to you?”
He shook his head. But then a moment later he said,” My mother did ... I think.”
“Why don’t we try it and see if you like it. We can read one chapter tonight at bedtime. What say you?”
He shrugged his small shoulders in a bird-like movement. “Very well.”
Bird-like and vulnerable, she thought. It would take a lot of patience to win his trust, but one look at those wary, seafoam -green eyes told her it would be worth the effort to bring some warmth to the life of a very lonely little boy.
“We shall begin our studies tomorrow, but perhaps you wouldn’t mind showing me some more of the house right now? Would you do that?”
“Very well.” Then he corrected himself. “Yes, Miss Langley.”
Jane bent down close to him. “Perhaps you might call me Miss Jane. It sounds ever so much more friendly, and I do hope we will be friends.” She didn’t wait for him to respond but went on in a confidential tone. “One other thing. This is such a big house that I find it rather frightening. Would you mind holding my hand as you show me about?”
She reached out her own hand. He stared at it, then slowly placed his own palm within hers.
“Follow me.”
Peter showedher the various rooms in the east wing, including the portrait gallery where Jane managed to coax the first tentative smiles from her young charge with amusing comments on the dress or expressions of the dusty, long-gone ancestors They were about to descend the main staircase when Peter pointed to the other wing. He was now putting more than two words together at a time, something Jane hailed as a major victory.
