Page 6 of The Defiant Governess (Intrepid Heroines #6)

Jane had visions of an incorrigible little monster and her face must have betrayed her thoughts for Mrs. Fairchild quickly added “Not that he is a naughty child, for indeed he is not. It’s just that he is.

..well, I think he is lonely. The family nurse was forced by her health to retire two years ago and since then.

..” A sigh punctuated her words. “It is very quiet around here, Miss Langley, as you will soon discover. It is perhaps not an ideal place for a child to grow up, with no family …” She stopped abruptly.

“Did he not have a previous governess?” inquired Jane.

“She did not get along with children.”

Jane wondered exactly what that enigmatic statement meant. “I hope I shall manage better,” was all she could think of to reply.

There was a moment of silence while once again Mrs. Fairchild sipped her tea in a thoughtful manner. “I shall be frank with you, Miss Langley,” she said, looking at Jane with a penetrating gaze. “The last governess was dismissed because I discovered her beating Peter.”

“She beat a child? How awful!” exclaimed Jane, unable to keep from speaking out.

“Yes, I thought so too. And so I have gone to great pains to discover a suitable person to come to Highwood, someone I hope will stay for some time. I like you, Miss Langley, from what little I’ve seen of you.

I trust you will be a good and kind companion to Master Peter.

” Again, a troubled look clouded her face for a moment.

“And now, I think you should meet your charge.”

She rang the bell that was sitting on the side table. Almost immediately the door swung open and Glavin ushered in a young boy who seemed pathetically small in contrast to the tall, bony butler.

“Come, Peter,” smiled Mrs. Fairchild. “Make your greetings to Miss Langley. She is to be your new governess.”

Jane watched the boy approach the couch warily, a pair of sea green eyes studying her intently from under a tousled mass of dark curls. His gaze betrayed a mixture of trepidation and defiance. He ducked a quick bow, but then sidled close to the housekeeper, practically hiding behind her ample form.

“Now, now,” Mrs. Fairchild gently chided. “Miss Langley will think you sadly lacking in manners if you don’t greet her properly.”

“Welcome to Highwood, Miss Langley,” The words were mumbled and the eyes were now studying the tips of his shoes.

“Thank you, Peter,” replied Jane, giving the boy her warmest smile. Indeed, it wasn’t difficult, for her heart had immediately gone out to the frail-looking child.

She knew the look in her eyes would have caused her brother much apprehension, for he would have claimed that he spotted the beginning of what he called “Jane’s crusades.

” Jane felt he exaggerated—just because she was always the one to rescue a stray animal or lecture a tenant on the cruelty of beating a tired farm horse didn’t mean anything other than that she disliked seeing the weak or helpless being taken advantage of.

And though she admitted that no other female of her age or rank had shocked the drawing rooms of London by speaking out on the plight of juvenile chimney sweeps, she didn’t think that made her a crusader, just a concerned individual.

Forcing her thoughts back to the present moment, Jane offered the boy a plate

“Won’t you join me in having a cake? They are quite delicious.”

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 with me 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 showed her 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.

“That is where my Uncle’s rooms are.”

She was surprised—from all that she knew, she had surmised that his guardian was elderly. But then she realized that he must be using the term loosely. Great uncle, no doubt.

“Your uncle is your guardian?”

He nodded.

”Is he very old?”

The boy nodded again.

Just as she thought. “And where is he?”

“I think he is ... abroad,” he answered vaguely.

Now that Bonaparte was safely tucked away on Elba, the rich and idle may play on the Continent again, she thought grimly, no matter what their responsibilities at home.

“When was the last time you saw him?”

Peter thought for a bit. “A year, I think.”

“Well, perhaps he will visit again soon,” she said, thinking that naturally the boy must miss his only family. And if the marquess did make an appearance, she added to herself, she would let him know exactly what she thought of his behavior ... then realized that of course she wouldn’t!

She couldn’t.

The boy immediately stiffened and said nothing.

Jane made another mental note. The boy didn’t care for his guardian, or maybe it was that he was afraid of him.

Did the man beat him too? Was he one of those monsters who enjoyed hurting those who couldn’t defend themselves?

She vowed to learn more of the Marquess of Saybrook from Mrs. Fairchild, though of course she would have to be very circumspect.

The lady was a relation, after all—though a distant, poor one—and as such would be loath to speak ill of him, especially to a stranger.

But Jane was determined to find out just what was going on here.

As she descended the stairs, she realized that for the first time in days she felt almost happy.

She had a challenge, and there was nothing like that to buck up her spirits.

Lord Saybrook had best beware, she vowed to herself.

He may have bullied a small child in the past, but if he showed his face here now, he would have to deal with her .