Page 16 of The Defiant Governess (Intrepid Heroines #6)
In the hallway, the upstairs maid was sweeping the floor, and Jane stopped a moment to question her. “Polly, there is a dress in my room that doesn’t belong to me. Do you know anything about it?”
“Oh yes, Miss Jane. I was told to put it there. It’s from the attics, I think.”
More perplexed than ever, Jane kept up her search for the housekeeper.
Mrs. Fairchild was having her tea in a small study that served as her sitting room. Jane repeated her question concerning the dress.
“Oh yes, His Lordship asked that I get a riding habit down from the attic. It was his sister’s—Miss Sarah’s. Her things are stored up there.”
“B-But why?” stammered Jane.
Mrs. Fairchild thought for a moment. “Well, he did mention something about how if you meant to ride every day, perhaps you shouldn’t spook the horses with—as he put it—those ghastly flapping skirts.”
Jane gritted her teeth. Infuriating man. Only he would be able to show some thoughtfulness, then color it with a casual insult. She had a good mind to tell him to take his dress to the Devil!
Mrs. Fairchild was watching her face. “Is something wrong?”
“No, not at all. How very … thoughtful of Lord Saybrook.”
“He always has been, you know, even as a boy. Not a tenant on his lands wants for warm clothing and enough food. Takes care of his own, he does.”
“Well, I’m not his,” she muttered.
“What was that, dear?”
“Nothing, nothing. Pardon me for interrupting your tea. I think I shall return to my room until supper.”
“Enjoy the dress,” called Mrs. Fairchild. “Mister Edward thinks it should only need a little altering in the bodice.”
Jane choked back a very unlady-like oath.
How dare he scrutinize her … proportions!
He must consider himself quite well acquainted with the female form to make such a comment.
Granted, she hadn’t heard even a whisper to indicate that he was one of those gentlemen who sought to dally with his servants.
But if he thought a dress would sweeten her up …
She slammed her door with vehemence. The sound was startling, even to herself, and she hoped no one else had overheard such a fit of pique.
Turning toward the bed, Jane looked at the dress again. With a pang of guilt she realized she wanted to keep it very much. How wonderful it would be to ride properly attired! So she would keep it, she decided as she fingered the soft material. And just let him try to claim any advantage of it.
Her chin jutted forward. She almost looked forward to thanking him.
Her chance came later that evening. After reading to Peter, she came back downstairs to fetch a fresh candle for her room and passed the library.
The door was half open and she could see Saybrook reading by the fire, his long legs stretched out to catch the flickering warmth.
He had removed his coat and sat in his shirtsleeves, cravat loosened and hair falling low over his forehead.
Impulsively, she knocked on the door—rather loudly it seemed to her own ears.
Saybrook called for her to enter without looking up from his book. Even as she approached the fire he didn’t so much as turn his head. It was only when she cleared her throat in impatience that he raised his eyes from the pages.
“Yes, Miss Langley?” His face was expressionless, with only the eyebrows slightly arched in question.
“I …” Jane was flustered by his quiet demeanor. If he had looked at all smug or had smirked knowingly, she would have verbally boxed his ears. But this …
“I …” she began again.
“Yes?”
“I wish to thank you for the riding habit. It was very … generous of you.” The words came out sounding more stilted than she meant.
“Actually, it was very selfish.”
It was Jane's turn to look questioningly.
“Couldn’t abide the sight of those flapping, drab skirts,” he continued. “Likely to spook my horses and cause serious injury.”
Jane felt a burn of indignation rise inside of her. “You don’t approve of my dress?”
He looked her slowly up and down, pointedly taking in the shapeless mouse-brown dress buttoned to the neck and the severe bun with nary a ringlet to soften the effect. Then, as if satisfied that he had seen enough, he began reading again. “Hideous,” he murmured.
“It is proper dress for a governess,” she retorted.
“Is it? Well, why those of your profession insist on dressing in such a dowdy, unflattering manner is no concern of mine.”
“There are reasons, sir, that it is considered proper.”
“No doubt.” He still didn’t look up. “But you needn’t fear for your virtue in this house, I assure you.”
Jane was left feeling she was coming out decidedly the worse in this encounter. Summoning what little dignity she had remaining, she turned with a swish of her skirts.
“Good night, sir. Let me not keep you from your reading. It appears to be most engrossing,” she called as she stalked from the room.
“Good night, Miss Langley.”
It was only when the door closed rather firmly that Saybrook permitted himself a smile.
Rain had been coming down in torrents for the past few days.
Jane’s mood had turned restless, for she disliked being cooped up inside.
So when she rose at the end of the day’s lessons and saw that the downpour had finally ceased, she was determined to venture out for a quick ride, despite the fact that the day was still dark and overcast.
After throwing a cloak over her habit, Jane hurried down to the stables.
Henry eyed the skies doubtfully. “You are likely to get a soaking, Miss.”
“I shall make it short, I promise. And a little water won’t cause any harm. Besides, I must check the mill pond. I have noticed that it has a tendency to flood during rains.”
Sure enough, as she rode by the pond she noticed that it looked dangerously high.
The steward must be alerted and told to send some men to open the sluice gates.
Turning her mount back towards home, she set into a smart canter despite the mud.
There was really no time to waste if a flood was to be avoided.
Jane handed her reins to a waiting groom and started back to the manor, composing a sharp lecture for Mr. Fielding. Ye heavens, it was his job to keep an eye on potential problems. He should have been aware of the danger.
Just as she came to the graveled drive she spotted a group of workmen heading toward the fields. Deciding that it might take her too much time to locate the steward at this hour, Jane took matters into her own hands.
“John,” she called to leader of the group. “You and your men must go right away to the mill pond to open the gates.”
The man looked momentarily surprised, but then he nodded at her tone of command. “Yes, Miss.”
Satisfied, Jane entered the house.
Saybrook caught a glimpse of the scene from the morning room where he was taking a cup of coffee and reading the paper. With a muffled oath, he slammed down his cup and raced outside. “Where are you men going?” he shouted.
They stopped in their tracks. The foreman turned to face him. “Why, my lord, Miss Langley told us to go open the sluice gates.”
“Have you forgotten who gives orders here?” he replied in an icy tone.
The man stared at his boots. “No, my lord. It’s just that in your absence, milord …” He trailed off in confusion.
“Yes, I gather that. But in the future you will act on my word, or that of Mr. Fielding,” he said less sharply.
His temper was still sorely tried, but he regretted having vented it on those who were not to blame.
“I have already taken care of the matter,” he added.
“You may return to the work you were doing before.”
He turned on his heel and reentered the house. Brushing past a startled Glavin he threw open the library door. “Send Miss Langley to me,” he roared at the butler. “At once!”
When Jane entered the room, still attired in her damp habit, Saybrook was pacing up and down in front of his desk. “What in God’s name did you think you were doing, ordering those men to the river?” he snapped.
“With the storm of the past few days, if they didn’t attend to the sluices, one of the fields would be flooded. Your steward should have noticed ….”
“If they had opened the gates, more than a field would have been harmed—I ordered some men to strengthen the bridge below the pond first thing this morning, before we opened the sluices,” stormed Saybrook. “If those men had done as you ordered, people would have been killed!”
Jane’s mouth flew open. “I—I didn’t know!”
“Forgive me for not informing you, Miss Langley,” he replied acidly. “Somehow, I am under the strange delusion that I make the decisions at Highwood. Is that clear?”
Jane looked a little guilty, and yet her reply was unapologetic. “In this case, yes.”
“Bloody hell,” he muttered through gritted teeth. “Do I have your promise not to take estate matters into your own hands from now on?”
The chin stuck out even farther. “Perhaps.”
“What! Why you … you impudent …” Saybrook's temper, frayed by the fear for his men’s safety, snapped. “Go to your room. And stay there until I send word that you’re permitted to leave.”
“H-How dare you treat me like a child!” she exclaimed.
“If you insist on behaving like a spoiled brat, you shall be treated like one.”
“Nobody has ever sent me to my room!”
“A grave mistake.” He regarded her calmly. “For I’m sure you have richly deserved it on more occasions than this.”
“Oooohhh!” She was so angry that words eluded her. In frustration she stamped her foot.
At that, the corners of Saybrook's mouth twitched uncontrollably. In another moment he was laughing aloud.
“Oh, do give off,” she snapped. But the absurdity of it all was clear to her as well. In spite of her pique, she found herself joining his laughter.
“I’m afraid that yet again I have behaved very badly, milord.” she said as she regained her composure. “I apologize for my actions, and assure you that I shall refrain from giving orders which are rightfully yours to give. Is that satisfactory?”
“Do I hear correctly? Has Miss Langley admitted to error?”
“I should hope that I, too, have the grace to admit when I am wrong. And I would appreciate it if you would inform me of my defects of character in a less high-handed manner,”
Saybrook inclined a slight bow. “Agreed.” He paused for a bit. “And I would hope that if you feel something is amiss at Highwood you will bring it to my attention.”
She looked at him in surprise. “Would you pay it any heed?” she challenged.
“I would be a fool not to. You have good sense and a discerning eye—you were right about the pond.”
“But I am merely a woman.”
“I fail to see what that has to do with having good sense and a discerning eye. Now, if you will excuse me, I must see how the men are coming.”
He strode out of the library, leaving Jane with more than enough food for thought for the day.