Page 17 of The Governess and the Rogue (Somerset Stories #6)

Chapter Fifteen

Marseilles to Calais

B ea sank down on a bench at the edge of the railway platform amid the swirling smoke and steam.

Pearl took a seat beside her, Bea’s small leather traveling valise cradled in her arms. After docking in Marseilles, they’d wasted no time in getting themselves, and their luggage, to the station.

It was going to be many hours to Calais by train.

And several more across the Channel by steamship. They couldn’t afford to dawdle.

Not all of the passengers had been so impatient to resume their journey.

Several had taken rooms at local hotels, eager to rest and—as they put it—regain their land legs.

Bea had hoped the Dimsdales would be among them, but it wasn’t to be.

No sooner had she sat down than they stalked past her on their way to the ticket office.

Mrs. Dimsdale was shepherding her children, with little success. “We must find a servant to look after them,” she was saying to her husband. “Anyone woman will do. Even if she is a Frenchwoman.”

“Yes, my dear,” Mr. Dimsdale replied. “Whatever you will.”

They neither of them spared a glance in Bea’s direction. It was as though she didn’t exist. Only Lilith dared look at her, her mouth sullen, and her gaze glinting with mingled scorn and awe.

“You have achieved the impossible in her eyes,” Pearl remarked once the family had disappeared from sight.

“Have I?” Bea asked absently. She wasn’t entirely paying attention to her friend. She was too focused on Jack.

He stood a short distance away, dressed for travel in a heavy wool coat, black gloves, and a tall black hat. He was speaking with a raven-haired gentleman that Bea had never seen before.

The man’s stern face was partially concealed by the upturned collar of his greatcoat and the hat he wore tipped low over his brow. He seemed to be glaring at Jack for some reason.

Not that one would know it by Jack’s easy demeanor. He was untroubled as ever, his weight balanced on his cane, and his mouth curved in its perpetual wry smile of amusement.

As she looked at him, Bea’s stomach quivered with butterflies. The same wretched winged irritants that had been plaguing her ever since their ill-advised kiss on the deck of the Pera. It had been days since that unfortunate encounter. Every one of which she’d spent in Jack’s company.

His behavior toward her had been perfectly gentlemanly. His aspect civil. His conversation friendly. Practically brotherly.

Or at least, how Bea imagined a brother might be.

And yet…

Every time she looked at him, she was thinking about that wretched kiss. Both regretting that it had happened, and regretting that it could never happen again.

“You have snared a Beresford,” Pearl said.

Bea flashed her friend a repressive glance. “What does an eleven-year-old girl know about snaring anyone?”

“It’s all she’s heard from the ladies since we set out from Bombay, how exceptional a catch Colonel Beresford is. And you’re the one who caught him.”

“I don’t know about that,” Bea said under her breath.

“ I know,” Pearl said. “I’m sorry we must part. I’d have liked to see you married and settled in your grand estate in the west country.” She smiled. “I’d ask you to write to me if I thought you’d be willing.”

A leaden weight formed in Bea’s chest. She recognized it as guilt. “Why wouldn’t I be willing?”

“The daughter-in-law of an earl can’t be corresponding with a maidservant she met on the crossing,” Pearl replied matter-of-factly.

Bea hadn’t thought she could feel any worse. “Of course I shall write you,” she said. “The moment I’m settled, I’ll send word to you at…”

“Mrs. Rawson’s residence in Hampshire,” Pearl supplied. “The Birches, it’s called.”

Across the platform, Mrs. Rawson emerged from the telegraph office as though their conversation had summoned her.

Benjamin was on his lead ahead of her, and Mrs. Farraday and her daughter were close behind.

Like Bea and Jack, the three ladies had elected to book passage on the next train to Calais rather than take rooms in a hotel for the night.

Catching sight of Bea, Mrs. Rawson raised her kid-gloved hand in greeting. “Miss Layton!” she called. “Well met.”

Bea suppressed a sigh as the three ladies came to join them.

Standing as a barrier between Jack and his encroachers hadn’t turned out to be as simple an endeavor as she’d originally hoped it would be.

For one thing, the fact of Jack’s engagement to Bea did little to keep those encroachers at bay.

They were still there, persistently pressing their acquaintance, and—in Mrs. Farraday’s case—forever reminding Bea how ludicrous it was that a drab creature like her had supplanted Mrs. Farraday’s beautiful daughter in Jack’s affections.

It was trying at the best of times, but after so many days at sea, Bea was tired of it. She nevertheless grudgingly rose to greet them.

“Mrs. Rawson. Mrs. Farraday. Miss Farraday.” Bea inclined her head.

Mrs. Rawson came to a halt, struggling with Benjamin. The little dog continued pulling wildly on his lead. It was obvious why his owner preferred to carry him. When left to his own devices he was barely civilized.

Setting aside Bea’s valise, Pearl scurried forward. “Shall I help you with Benjamin, Mrs. Rawson?”

“Yes, do,” Mrs. Rawson said. “What a relief it will be to have you resume your duties!”

Bea opened her mouth to offer a word of thanks, or possibly apology. It was, after all, because of her that Mrs. Rawson had been deprived of Pearl during the voyage.

Mrs. Rawson forestalled her. “Not that I begrudged your use of her. A young lady, newly betrothed, can’t be sleeping alone in a stateroom without a servant to attend her.

What would people say? No, my dear. So long as we were on the Pera, I considered it my sacred duty to see that all proprieties were observed on your behalf. ”

“You are too kind,” Bea said stiffly. “But really?—”

“And it was only for the length of the sea voyage. I managed well enough without her, as you see. Though I won’t claim it has been easy.” Mrs. Rawson addressed Pearl. “Don’t let him get free of you! We’d never find him again in such a crush.”

Pearl picked up the struggling little dog in her arms. She scrunched her eyes shut, giggling as he licked her face. “Be still, Benjamin,” she chided. “I don’t require your kisses.”

Mrs. Rawson and Miss Farraday smiled and tittered at the dog’s antics.

Mrs. Farraday’s face, by contrast, remained cold and markedly unfriendly. She wore a dove-gray poplin traveling dress and matching silk-trimmed casaque, an ensemble rivaled in its stylishness only by that worn by her daughter. “Miss Layton,” she said. “You amaze me.”

Bea returned the woman’s gaze, steeling herself for what was sure to be an insult. “Ma’am?”

“I declare, since the morning your engagement to Colonel Beresford was so scandalously announced, I have not seen you even once outside of his company. Yet here you are.” Mrs. Farraday looked around Bea in mock amazement. “And Colonel Beresford is nowhere to be found.”

“He is there behind you, ma’am,” Bea said. “Speaking to that tall gentleman.”

Mrs. Farraday turned to look, along with Miss Farraday and Mrs. Rawson.

Jack’s position had briefly been blocked by a cart holding a towering stack of cases. But the cart was gone now, and Jack could be seen quite clearly. He was still in conversation with the raven-haired man. An unpleasant conversation by the look of it.

“Upon my word,” Mrs. Rawson said. “Is that the soldier who was taken prisoner during the uprising? Captain Thornhill, or whatever he’s called?”

Mrs. Farraday was temporarily diverted. “The man who was tortured?”

“It must be,” Mrs. Rawson said. “Though you can’t see the burns he suffered from here, can you?”

Mrs. Farraday’s lips pursed in a moue of distaste. “I thank God for it. Such a horrible sight isn’t fit for the company of ladies.”

Bea exchanged a glance with Pearl. She’d told Bea that some of the soldiers traveling on the Pera had been grievously injured, but she’d said nothing about the specifics.

“I expect Colonel Beresford is directing the frightful fellow to another carriage,” Mrs. Farraday said. “He, of all men, knows the duty that is owed to ladies of quality. When first we met in Delhi, he was always watching over us. Wasn’t he, Rowena?”

“Yes, Mama,” Miss Farraday replied dutifully.

Mrs. Farraday turned to Bea, her face hardening to marble. “And now it’s you who is watching over him. Strange, isn’t it? One would think you didn’t trust him out of your sight.”

“It is difficult to be out of each other’s sight on a ship,” Bea said. “Or on a train.”

“The first-class carriage, naturally.” Mrs. Farraday’s eyes glinted with a sharp flicker of anger. “I wonder, Miss Layton, if you are quite accustomed to traveling first class?”

“What my mother means,” Miss Farraday interjected, “is that we’ve been worried about you acclimating to your new style of life.”

Bea leveled her gaze at Miss Farraday. The young lady’s outward manner was, as always, perfectly agreeable. But there was an almost imperceptible edge to her words, as razor-fine as a delicately sharpened blade.

For the first time, it occurred to Bea that Miss Farraday might have more in common with her mother than Bea had previously credited.

“If there are any difficulties,” Bea told her, “I’m sure my fiancé will apprise me of them.”

“Oh no, no,” Mrs. Rawson protested. “A gentleman is not the one to look to for advice. You must leave that to the ladies. And to your friends in particular.” She slipped her hand through Bea’s arm as though they were intimates.

“How much do you know about the Beresford family, Miss Layton? You have not met them before, I gather.”

“No, I haven’t,” Bea admitted.

And she wasn’t going to meet them now, either.

But Mrs. Rawson and the others didn’t know that.

“Allow me to enlighten you.” Mrs. Rawson dropped her voice.

“The Earl of Allendale is one of the wealthiest gentlemen in the West Country. One of the largest landholders, as well. And his countess! Margaret Honeywell, as was. Rich in her own right, and a famous beauty too, with a reputation for setting the fashion.”

“A reputation all of the Beresfords share,” Mrs. Farraday said coolly. “I wager Colonel Beresford’s sister, Lady Katherine, wouldn’t be caught dead in last season’s silks or velvets. Let alone a drab dress of faded wool.”

Bea suppressed a burning flare of self-consciousness. Her own dress was faded wool. Several years old, and lacking all adornment. An embarrassment, surely, as far as dresses went, if she’d actually been planning to meet Jack’s family.

“And his older brother, Viscount St. Clare,” Mrs. Rawson continued. “Always perfectly attired, down to the diamond pin in his neckcloth.”

“You might consider purchasing your trousseau here in France,” Miss Farraday suggested to Bea. “My mother and I, and Mrs. Rawson, will be stopping in Paris. If you joined us, you could have some new dresses made before you meet Lord and Lady Allendale.”

“An excellent idea,” Mrs. Rawson said. “No lady with the least sensibility can tolerate an overnight journey on a train with no sleeper carriage. You would have to sleep sitting up—a wretched state of affairs. No, my dear. Far better you should break your journey in Paris. I shall take you to the shops myself. I’m sure Mrs. Farraday would be happy to entertain Colonel Beresford in your absence. ”

“It would be my distinct pleasure,” Mrs. Farraday said. Her eyes were fixed on Bea with all the subtlety of a hunting hawk eying a wayward mouse.

Bea extricated her arm from Mrs. Rawson’s grasp. “You are all very kind,” she said. “But I’m afraid Colonel Beresford and I haven’t the time to stop in Paris. We plan on traveling straight through to Calais.”

Even if that meant traveling straight through the night. Even if it meant sleeping sitting up.

“Plans can be changed,” Mrs. Farraday said.

Pearl flashed Bea an encouraging look. Yes, do stop in Paris , it seemed to say. Remain with us a little longer. Enjoy your new position to the utmost.

The guilty weight in Bea’s chest grew heavier still.

What would Pearl think if she knew that Bea’s present position was, in fact, almost identical to her former one?

Indeed, it was worse, for then she’d had a job and now she had none.

Unless one counted her role as Jack’s fake fiancée as employment.

And it couldn’t be, for there was no payment involved.

Bea swallowed the acrid taste in her mouth.

Across the platform, Jack finished his conversation with Captain Thornhill, and headed toward her.

They were so near to the end of this ruse.

She had only to stay the course a little longer.

“These plans can’t, regrettably,” she said.

“As I’m sure Colonel Beresford can tell you. ”

Jack approached with a questioning smile. “What can I tell you, ladies?”

“Miss Layton claims that you haven’t the time to stop over in Paris,” Mrs. Rawson replied. “Though we’ve been making every effort to persuade her.”

“Miss Layton is correct,” Jack said. “I’m anxious to see my family, and to get back to my estate. Paris will have to wait.”

Mrs. Rawson smiled broadly. “Your family will be equally eager to see you, I’m sure. And to meet Miss Layton.”

Bea took refuge in silence, occupying herself with smoothing her skirts and adjusting her mantle. She told herself that she was glad she wouldn’t have to meet Jack’s family. If they were all truly so beautiful and fashionable, they’d surely have no great tolerance for her and her shortcomings.

“Indeed,” Jack said. He caught Bea’s eye. “I have our tickets, and the luggage has all been loaded. If you’re quite ready? The train will be leaving shortly, and we’ve a long journey ahead of us.”

“Yes, of course.” Bea accepted his proffered arm.

Pearl remained behind, cradling Benjamin against her chest. She gave Bea a small, parting smile.

Bea smiled in return, silently renewing her promise to write to Pearl.

“I will pray that you’ll change your mind,” Mrs. Rawson called after them. “It’s a long way to Paris.”

“A very long way,” Mrs. Farraday echoed. “Much can happen between now and then.”