Dangerous Lord, Innocent Governess. Christine Merrill
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of his children’s care.’
‘They are his children,’ Daphne said softly, rather surprised at how little the Duchess seemed to care about the fact.
‘Of course,’ the Duchess responded. ‘But recent events have left him all but unfit to care for them. As a close friend of the family, I feel a responsibility to help him through this difficult time.’
‘You knew Lady Colton?’ Daphne smiled eagerly. She might have an ally, if the woman had also known Clare.
‘I knew her. Yes.’ And now the Duchess’s look was one of distaste. She offered nothing more, before changing the subject. ‘But come, you must be eager to see the nursery wing and meet your charges.’ She rose quickly and preceded Daphne to the door and out into the hall, as though the merest mention of the children’s mother hung in the air like a bad smell.
As they walked up the main stairs, Daphne paused for a moment and glanced behind her. So this was where it had happened. She could almost imagine her cousin, who had been so full of life, lying dead below her on the floor of the entry. She shook off the image to further examine the scene of the crime. Smooth marble treads, and an equally smooth banister that might have denied an adequate grip to the woman who had struggled here.
She glanced at the floor to see faint proof that a rug had been present and was now removed. So the poor carpet had taken the blame. A loose corner, a trip and a fall. Perfectly ordinary. Most unfortunate.
But Daphne believed none of it. Clare had used the stairs for twelve years without so much as a stumble. There was nothing to be afraid of, if someone was not here to push you down. When she was finished in this house, everyone would know the truth and Clare would be avenged.
The Duchess did not notice her pause, absorbed by her own thoughts, which did not concern the unfortunate death of the mistress of the house. She gave a helpless little shrug. ‘I might as well tell you, before we go any further, that there is a small problem that I have been unable to deal with.’
‘Really.’ There were many problems with this house, and none of them small. Daphne wondered what would incite the Duchess to comment, if the death of Clare had not.
‘In my letter to you, I promised something I could not give. The bedroom just off the nursery is the one intended for the governess. Convenient to the classroom, and next to little Sophie should she need you in the night.’
Daphne nodded.
‘The oldest girl, Lily, has taken the room as her own. I have been unable to dislodge her from it. The two older children care deeply for the littlest girl. And in the absence of a regular governess they have taken the duties of Sophie’s care upon themselves.’ For a moment, the Duchess looked distressed, nearly to tears over the plight of the children.
Forgetting her station, Daphne reached out a hand to the woman, laying an arm over her shoulders. ‘It will be all right, I’m sure.’ It was comforting to see that the Duchess cared so deeply for the children, for it made her actions in the Colton house seem much less suspicious.
The Duchess sniffed, as though fighting back her emotion. ‘Thank you for understanding.’ She walked to the end of the hall and opened the door to the servants’ stairs, looking up a flight. ‘There is a small room at the top of the house. Only fit for a maid, really. But it is very close to the children. And yet, very private. There is nothing at all on this side of the house but the attics, and the one little place under the eaves. And it is only until you can persuade Lily to return to her own room.’
Daphne looked up the narrow, unlit staircase, to the lone door at the top. ‘I’m sure it will be adequate.’ It would be dreadful. But it was only for a few weeks. And living so simply would help her remember her position.
‘Shall we go and meet the children now? I have sent word that they are to wait for us in the schoolroom.’ She led the way past two bedrooms, which must be Sophie’s and the one Lily had usurped, to a small but well-stocked classroom. There were desks and tables, with a larger desk at one end for her, maps and pictures upon the walls and many shelves for books.
Remembering how she had felt as a child when cooped up in a similar room, Daphne was overcome with a sudden desire to slip away from the Duchess, to lead her in hide and seek or some other diversion. Anything that might prolong the time before she must pick up a primer.
The children lined up obediently in front of her, by order of age. Daphne felt a surprising lump form in her throat. They were all the picture of her beloved Clare. Red hair, pale complexions, fine features and large green eyes. Some day, the two girls would be beauties, and the boy would be a handsome rakehell.
The rush of emotion surprised her. She felt a sudden, genuine fondness for the children that she had not expected. She did not normally enjoy the company of the young. But these were the only part of her cousin that still remained. She had to overcome the urge to talk to them of the woman they both knew, and to reveal her relation to them. Surely it would be a comfort to them all to know that Clare was not forgotten?
But then she looked again. The light behind their eyes was the same suspicious glint she had seen in the man behind the desk on the floor below. They had also inherited the stubborn set of his jaw. Without speaking a word to each other, she watched them close ranks against her. They might smile and appear co-operative. And her heart might soften for the poor little orphans that Clare had left behind. But that should not give her reason to expect their help in discovering the truth of what had happened to their mother, or in bringing their father to justice.
She smiled an encouraging, schoolteacher’s smile at them, and said, ‘Hello, children. My name is Miss Collins. I have come a long way to be with you.’
The boy looked at her with scepticism. ‘You are from London, are you not? We make the trip from London to Wales and back, twice a year. And while it is a great nuisance to be on the road, it is not as if you have come from Australia, is it?’
‘Edmund!’ the Duchess admonished.
Daphne chose to ignore the insolence, and redoubled her smile. ‘As far as Australia? I suppose it is not. Do you find Australia of particular interest? For we could learn about it, if you wish.’
‘No.’ He glanced at the Duchess, who looked angry enough to box his ears. He corrected himself. ‘No, thank you, Miss Collins.’
‘Very well.’ She turned to the older girl. ‘And you are Lily, are you not?’
‘Lilium Lancifolium. Father named me. For my hair.’ When she saw Daphne’s blank look, she gave a sigh of resignation at the demonstrated ignorance of the new governess. ‘Tiger Lily.’
‘Oh. How utterly charming.’ Utterly appalling, more like. What kind of man gifted his first child with such a name? And, worse yet, a girl, who would someday have to carry that name to the alter with her. Clare’s frustration with the man had not been without grounds.
Daphne turned to the youngest child. ‘And you must be little Sophie. I have heard so much about you, and am most eager to know you better.’ She held out a hand of greeting to the girl.
The littlest girl said nothing, and her eyes grew round, not with delight, but with fear. The two older children stepped in front of her, as though forming a barrier of protection. ‘Sophie does not like strangers,’ said Edmund.
‘Well, I hope that she will not think me a stranger for long.’ Daphne crouched down so that she might appear less tall to the little girl. ‘It is all right, Sophie. You do not have to speak, if you do not wish. I know when I was little I found it most tiresome that adults were always insisting I curtsy, and recite, and sit in stiff chairs listening to boring lessons. I’d have been much happier if they’d left me alone in the garden with my drawings.’
The little girl seemed taken aback by this. Then she smiled and shifted eagerly from foot to foot, tugging at her older sister’s skirts.
In response, Lily shook her head and said, ‘Sophie is not allowed to draw.’
‘Not allowed?’