From Waif To Gentleman's Wife. Julia Justiss
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herself with simply sipping her wine and watching the play of thoughts over his handsome face.
Odd, she thought with a little pang, realising how much she was going to miss someone whom this time yesterday she had not even known existed.
Suddenly Mr Greaves straightened. ‘I have it!’ he announced, triumph on his face. ‘You recently worked as a governess, correct?’
‘Yes. Though I’d never been formally employed as one before, I have three younger sisters. My mother having died after the youngest’s birth, I taught them all as they grew up.’
He nodded. ‘Then perhaps I have a situation for you. One of my aims here is to establish a school for the children of the tenants and the village. As enclosures continue, fewer and fewer of them will end up becoming farmers. Even if they remain on the land, knowing how to read, write and do sums will help them with their accounts, while a rudimentary knowledge of science will make them better farmers. If they must or choose to leave to look for work in town, possessing such skills will enable them to more easily find employment.’
She gave him a speculative look. ‘Just how long has establishing a school here been one of your aims?’
“Tis a worthy aspiration,’ he replied, not answering her question.
‘Are you sure?’ she said softly, sudden emotion flooding her. She would bet her few remaining worldly possessions that a school for the village children was an idea he’d come up with but a moment ago. His kindness in proposing to create a respectable position that would allow her to extract herself honourably from her current predicament brought a lump to her throat.
‘I’m sure. I have to confess, I’ve been here but two days and have done nothing as yet towards the establishment of a school. You would be doing me—and the children around Blenhem, of course—a great favour in organising and initiating such an enterprise.’
Would she enjoy running a school of her own? Was she even capable of it? But how much harder could it be than teaching her sisters or the little daughters of Lady Masters?
She’d have children to care about and instruct, to surround her with their chatter and tears and laughter. That wouldn’t fully assuage the anguish of knowing she would never cradle a child of her own … but it would be a useful way to employ her time while she worked out what to do next.
A useful and honourable way.
It wasn’t as if she had someone or something more pressing awaiting her elsewhere.
While she sat, considering, he rushed on, ‘If you aren’t sure yet what you mean to do, you could just get the school started and teach until another mistress is found. The position would allow you to accumulate funds while you attempt to contact your brother or your family in India and consider what you wish to do permanently.’
Despite his assurances, she knew any service she performed for the school and its children didn’t compare to the one he did her in offering respectable employment to the indigent female who’d landed at his doorstep. Whatever else befell her, she would always consider Mr Greaves the kindest, most thoughtful gentleman she’d ever met.
‘Thank you, Mr Greaves.’ She smiled a bit. ‘I accept this offer.’
To her amusement, he flushed again at this reminder of his rakish behaviour. ‘You are most welcome, Mrs Merrill. By the way, you haven’t enquired about the salary.’
She smiled ruefully. ‘I’m not in a very good position to bargain, am I?’
He grinned. ‘Excellent. Then I shall pay you twice what you were getting from Lady Masters.’
‘Twice?’ she echoed, startled. One reason she’d so quickly accepted her former post was because the situation paid considerably more than a governess normally earned—Lady Masters, perhaps, having had difficulty finding a qualified individual who was willing to work on an estate in such a remote part of Hampshire … or tolerate her vile husband. ‘You truly wish to offer that much?’
‘You shall be instructing quite a few more children than you did as a governess.’
That was true, she acknowledged. Then the thought struck her that perhaps, moved by her plight and that of her brother, Mr Greaves had decided to strike back for them by chousing his employer out of a hefty sum to set up his school.
She was smiling at the idea when the humiliating realisation struck her that, employed or not, at the moment she was still homeless and without funds. ‘I’m afraid I shall have to beg an advance on that enormous salary. I must find lodgings and purchase some necessities.’
He waved a hand. ‘No reason for that. You can lodge here. We’ll probably set up the school in one of the old cottages nearest Hazelwick, once workmen have time to repair and furnish it.’
Lodge—under his roof? Unbidden, the image of his lips taking hers invaded her head. She felt a blush mount her cheeks. ‘It wouldn’t be … proper.’
He raised his brows. ‘Not proper? Why? You resided in the same dwelling as your employers in Hampshire. Had Lord Masters conducted himself as a gentleman, no one, yourself included, would have thought there was anything improper about it.’
He was quite right. She wasn’t an unmarried—or even married—lady of quality any longer, but a servant who did not have a reputation to safeguard. Nor would she be joining the household of a single gentleman. Though she suspected Mr Greaves, like herself, was gentry-born, he too had become simply an employee, albeit the most important one at this estate.
Though to her, she thought with a thrill of warmth in her breast, not even a duke could have conducted himself more nobly. She would be both thankful and proud to work for him. She’d just have to keep her lustful imaginings to herself.
But as she was about to agree, one other objection occurred to her. ‘What of Lord Englemere? I doubt he’d be happy about housing the sister of the man he just sent packing.’
Mr Greaves gave her a smile that looked positively conspiratorial, strengthening her conviction that he’d deliberately offered her an outrageous salary as a recompense for Lord Englemere’s dismissal of her brother. ‘You needn’t worry about Lord Englemere. I have the charge of Blenhem Hill now. So—have we a bargain?’ He offered his hand.
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