Page 3 of A Loving Governess in Disguise

Chapter 3

“My apologies, Miss, but might you tell me what exactly your plan entails?”

It was the middle of the night, and the two ladies were in the entrance hall about to leave. If it were not her own home, Euterpe would have been quite convinced that her household was haunted. Everything was silent, frighteningly so, and it only made her wish to leave even more.

It had felt more like a prison than a home since her sister’s disappearance, but it would not have been her home for much longer, even if she did still consider it so. Instead, her home would be that of the Duke of Somerset, her husband. Her stomach lurched at the thought, her legs trembling.

“I am not entirely certain as yet,” Euterpe confessed. “However, I am unable to speak freely until we have left.”

Under the guise of finding her sister, Euterpe had bribed the stablehand to leave her a horse and carriage. He had always liked her sister, and fearing for her safety, it was easier to acquire transportation than she had expected. They climbed into it, and Emma set them off, leaving the estate as quietly as they could.

Euterpe tried to think. Her plan was to find Eloise and bring her back, so that her own wedding would no longer need to proceed, but would that work? What if Eloise refused? Even if she was willing to change her mind, it was not as though Euterpe knew where her sister had gone.

Then she thought back to the conversation they had the day she disappeared. A little home in Cambridge.

It was nothing certain, but it was a start.

“To Cambridge,” she instructed Emma.

“Cambridge? That is rather far, Miss.”

“It is the one place I can think of.”

“And what will you do once there? We have nowhere to stay.”

Euterpe slumped back in her seat, defeated. She liked that Emma spoke freely in her presence, but it was not the agreement she had needed to trust herself. She was scared of what was to come, but it all had to happen if it meant she could change her fate.

“Charlotte,” she said suddenly. “We must see Charlotte. She lives near us.”

Euterpe guided Emma to the Fletcher household, one even grander than her own. It was the family’s pride and joy, with flowers entwining across the front of the house in many different colours and each door and window frame meticulously painted several times a year. If anything, it would bring some semblance of comfort.

It was also fortunate that Euterpe knew her friend well, and Charlotte would undoubtedly be taking air on her balcony with a book at that time. This was, indeed, the case, and the moment Charlotte saw them, she ran through her house and out to them, her long blonde hair streaming out behind her and concern melded in her brown eyes.

“Euterpe?” she asked in a hushed voice. “What are you–”

“It is Eloise. She has run away.”

Charlotte was an inch or so shorter than Euterpe, so she looked up at her with incredible fear.

“Why ever would she have done that?”

“Love, it appears. She has run away to be with some Charles Atkins. Our parents did not approve of the match, so she has seemingly taken it into her own hands.”

Charlotte looked as afraid as Euterpe; they had known one another for years, and though Euterpe was her favourite, she had always doted on Eloise. Charlotte was Eloise’s age after all, seven-and-ten, while Euterpe was two years older.

“It is worse,” Euterpe sighed. “Given that my parents believe we have no other option, I am being forced to marry the Duke of Somerset.”

“Him?” she exclaimed. “But he is four-and-thirty. He is closer to your father’s age than yours.”

“Well, it would seem that he is my only choice.”

Her friend softened for a moment in thought. Euterpe wondered just what was going around in her mind, as she had always been one for big plans.

“Alright. Give me one moment,” Charlotte said, nodding suddenly and disappearing.

Euterpe turned to Emma, whose eyes were wide.

“What do you suppose she is going to do?”

“Whatever she can. She knows I would do the same for her.”

Soon enough, Charlotte returned with two pieces of paper. One was an address, and the other was a letter of sorts addressed to a Lord and Lady Swanson. Euterpe looked from the letter to her friend and back again.

“It is only a note. You may read it if you wish.”

Euterpe nodded, unfolding the paper.

“ My dearest Aunt and Uncle,

I, Charlotte, am the one who wrote the following. Excuse the sudden intrusion, but I simply must ask you for the largest favour you could ever grant me. The lady before you is Miss Cecilia Pembroke, a good friend of mine. Please do not ask questions. I only ask that you house her for a while. Should you require proof, you need only wait a few more days and a letter will be delivered to you from me once again.

It is my hope that you will provide her a place to stay for a week, as I know you would do anything for me. I am most grateful as it stands. Please do not inform my mother and father of this, as they will only worry. I will visit you soon, likely before the week is through.

With love,

Charlotte Fletcher. ”

Euterpe folded the note and went to hand it back.

“This will not work. I cannot simply assume another identity!”

“But you must. Don’t you see? If you go to Cambridgeshire for a while, you can be close to where you believe Eloise to be, and you shall be untraceable. It will give you some time to find her, and then we can make it all right. It will also allow you to make a real match.”

Euterpe sighed. It was not an opportunity of that nature, for she could not, in good faith, find a husband when she was lying about who she was. In any case, she could not stay in Somerset, as she was too well-known. She had to leave, and she had to become someone else.

“What if they do not let me stay?” she asked.

“Believe me, they will. My aunt is my father’s sister, and with no daughters of her own, I have always been her favourite young lady. I shall see them myself within the week to erase any lingering doubts.”

That was enough to convince her. It had to be; she had no other choice.

“In which case,” Euterpe nodded, “I shall see you soon. I must go before anyone sees me.”

“Yes, go. I wish you luck!”

They embraced quickly before Euterpe and Emma returned to the carriage and rode away. Emma still had a clear look of fear in her eye, and though Euterpe tried to soothe her, she knew that she was equally frightened. She was no longer Euterpe Cheslyn, a young lady out in society. She was Cecilia Pembroke, three-and-twenty years old and living in Cambridgeshire.

The journey from London to Cambridge would take just over ten hours at their current pace, and as more time passed, she tried to forget who she had been before. It would only be for a week, but it would be difficult, nonetheless. The sun began to rise, casting a pink light over them. She tried to let the rays warm her, but she couldn’t. She felt cold, and nothing was helping.

Eventually, they neared the household. They had to stop a few times for directions, and Euterpe was surprised by how welcoming they all were. It gave her hope that the place was nice and they would not be treated as outsiders.

Even so, when she was at the house’s front door, she found herself unable to knock. She gave Emma a worried look, and her maid nodded, raised her hand, and did so herself. Within seconds, a short gentleman opened it.

“Good morning,” he greeted. “Who might you be?”

“Miss– Miss Cecilia Pembroke,” she replied hastily. “I have a note for Lord and Lady Swanson.”

The butler raised an eyebrow at her but led them inside regardless. It was a beautiful home, just as Charlotte’s was, and the two homeowners undoubtedly had familial ties to one another.

They followed the butler to a drawing room painted in a light green with floral paper on one wall. Inside, a man and a lady looked at her with curiosity.

“Miss Cecilia Pembroke,” the butler explained. “She claims to have a note for you.”

The lady and gentleman glanced at one another before the lady reached for the note. Euterpe handed it to her, and she scanned it before dropping her hand down, eyeing her carefully.

“And who gave you this?”

“Miss Charlotte Fletcher, My Lady.”

“Describe her.”

“She has blonde hair and brown eyes, and she is … well, she is rather quick to action. I do not mean to be a burden, but I need a place to stay here, and she – she said she was the only young lady in your life.”

At last, Charlotte’s aunt softened.

“That does sound like my little Lottie,” she said, smiling softly. “Miss Pembroke, was it?”

“Yes, Ma’am. I do not wish to be of any trouble. If it is inconvenient–”

“No, no, it is perfectly fine. You are welcome to stay, especially if it means that she will visit within the week. We shall have a room prepared for you right this instant.”

The lady disappeared, likely to have her room prepared, and at that moment, a man walked in. He was tall, older than Euterpe by around ten years, with kind hazel eyes and brown hair that had been neatly combed. He looked at her momentarily, and Euterpe could not quite decipher why because he did not seem surprised; it was more gratitude than anything.

“Theodore Swanson,” he greeted, bowing to her.

“Cecilia Pembroke,” she replied, hoping that the more she said it, the more she might believe it herself.

“We were not expecting a guest.”

“Yes, well, Miss Charlotte can have the strangest ideas.”

“Ah, my cousin. Yes, I am more than aware.”

There was a beat, and the only sound in the room was the clock, for Lord Swanson had yet to say a word.

“What brings you to Cambridge?” Mister Swanson asked. “You need not explain, of course.”

“No, no, it is perfectly fine. I … Well, I have come here in search of someone.”

She hoped he would not pry, and thankfully, he did not.

“Well, of course, you are more than welcome to stay here. Mother will be more than happy for you to keep her company; I am certain of that. However, what if I were to offer you something better?”

“Better?” she echoed, her head turned to one side.

“There is a friend of mine in need of a governess.”

“For his daughter?”

“For his niece.”

His niece? Euterpe had far more questions than answers, but she had to admit that her curiosity had been piqued. He looked at her in return, completely aware that he had captured her interest.

“I can tell you more on the way if you wish to join me.”

“Now?” she squeaked.

“Yes. I am going to see him, and if you accompany me, then I can have you interviewed and selected by this evening.”

“But I do not know anything about him!”

“Are you talking about Edward, Theodore?” Lord Swanson finally asked.

“Yes, Father. He has needed another governess after his last one– who is no longer able to work there.”

Lord Swanson chuckled at that, and Euterpe wondered why that was. She looked at Mister Swanson, who was watching her expectantly. He knew that she would agree to go with him, as she would need to find work of some description if she were to continue her ruse. After all, a lady would never be found in such a situation.

“Very well,” she said, nodding. “I shall join you. I have nothing to lose, after all.”

“Wonderful. Father, if you could tell Mother where I have taken our guest? She will understand, given poor Isabella’s condition.”

Lord Swanson nodded, and with that, Euterpe was whisked away with Emma into a carriage.

“Oh!” he exclaimed. “I forgot to ask the name of your handmaid.”

“It is Rose,” she replied without thinking.

She hoped that Emma wouldn’t mind it as a new name.

“Very well. Now, you may ask me any questions you have, and I shall answer them.”

“I shall need to know everything.”

“Of course. For a start, this friend of mine is the Duke of Cambridge, and–”

“A duke?”

“Do you take issue with that?”

“No, no, of course not. I simply hadn’t expected you to be speaking of someone of such high rank. They do not tend to have issues with locating help.”

“In most cases, that is so, but this is quite an extraordinary one. You see, his sister and her husband passed away, leaving their daughter in his care. He is in search of someone to care for the girl. Ella– Isabella– is seven years old and quite spirited.”

“That is a miracle, given the circumstances. That poor girl …”

“Precisely. Unfortunately, he has found difficulty in selecting the correct governess. It is my hope that you might be right for it.”

“Then I might as well confess now that I have never done this sort of thing.”

“Have you never been around children?”

“Only my sister.”

“Wonderful. You have a sister. Besides, if you can handle my cousin, a little girl shan’t prove to be a challenge, will it?”

She laughed gently, hoping that he was right.

Soon enough, they arrived at Cambridge Manor. It was large and looming, immaculately cared for. The little girl had likely been terrified upon her arrival; Euterpe certainly was. Then again, Isabella had been going to see her uncle, not a possible employer.

When Mister Swanson walked through the door, Euterpe almost collapsed.

“We must knock!” she exclaimed, chasing after him.

“I do no such thing. It is about as much my home as it is his. Come along, now.”

This man, she reasoned, was very strange indeed, but for some reason, she found herself following him.

“Edward?” he called. “You shall be very proud of me, indeed.”

Suddenly, out from a doorway stepped a very tall and broad man, his blue eyes looking at her with shock.

“Theodore,” he said calmly but coolly, “who is this?”