Lady Harriet's Unusual Reward (4 page)

Chapter Six

Harriet and Mary stood on the doorstep of Lord Stephen’s townhouse at ten o’clock on Sunday morning. They were there to collect William for church.

The butler appeared, a scowl on his face. He clearly expected Harriet.

“I have come to collect the Earl of Oldbeck for church.”

“Ah yes. Please come in, Lady Harriet. His lordship is um… nearly ready.”

That was clearly a polite half truth. She could hear her brother shouting.

She walked past the butler and into the hallway. William’s voice was coming from upstairs.

“It is too tight.”

“Look,” the lower, more measured tones of Stephen could just be heard, “we are not in the country now. When I took you to White’s, we got away with you looking a bit scruffy, but you cannot go to church looking like you were dragged through a hedge backwards. Not only is it a disgrace to your family, to your name, to your poor sister, but it is an affront to God. Not to mention to your valet. What is your name?”

“Mason, my lord.” Harriet recognised the voice of William’s long-suffering man servant. She often wondered why the valet had stayed for so long. Though he had been in the employ of the Oldbeck estate for a many years.

“Mason. Well, from now on your work will be appreciated and the Earl of Oldbeck will allow you to tie his cravats appropriately. He will not remove them, nor will he loosen them. He will not complain. It will be the same with all of his clothes. He will allow you to have some pride in your work.”

“But… But…”

“No buts, Oldbeck. You want respect, do you not? It starts with the servants. And that means you allow them to do their jobs properly. Now come, I heard the door. I believe Lady Harriet and Miss Callahan have arrived. Oldbeck, do not run!”

She heard his feet thundering down the stairs before she saw him, his hair still damp from his bath and curling around his collar. Mason and Lord Stephen had done a marvellous job in sprucing up her brother. He looked like any other gentleman of the
ton
, until he grabbed Mary into a less than genteel kiss.

“William!” Harriet cried out as she heard a pin from Mary’s neat coiffure tinkle onto the black and white tiles.

“Oldbeck!” Lord Stephen’s voice was a warning growl and William let go and stepped back.

“I apologise. I was excited.”

Stephen reached the bottom step and bowed elegantly to the ladies.

“Lady Harriet, Miss Callahan, it is a pleasure to see you again.”

“The pleasure is all ours, my lord,” Harriet replied with a curtsey. Mary bobbed a curtsey alongside her. She was going to have to teach the girl a proper curtsey as opposed to a maid’s curtsey, she supposed. And she would have to find out if Mary would need to curtsey in front of the King. She had no idea. Perhaps the patronesses of Almack’s would know but then Harriet so seldom went to town, she doubted she would even be eligible for vouchers to Almack’s. And once the news that her imbecile brother was marrying the maid he had impregnated was out then she doubted she would be deemed good enough to serve the punch in the hallowed halls of that establishment ever again.

“Lady Harriet?” She looked up into the most beautiful brown eyes and blushed at the look of concern in them. “Are you quite well?”

“Oh yes, I am very well. I was wool gathering. I apologise. We must go or we shall be late.”

“I do wish I could go with you but I had promised my mother to accompany her today since my brother shall be in the country. But Phoebe and I are coming to your house for lunch after and then we are all going for a drive in the park, am I correct?”

“Yes. That was the general idea.”

“And then the Simkins squeeze tonight.”

“If we must.”

“You do not sound particularly enthusiastic. I thought all young ladies enjoyed partying and the marriage mart in particular.”

“These are hardly ideal circumstances. Besides, if you fail in your endeavours this week, I already have myself a husband. And if you succeed I shall be a maiden aunt I suspect. I shall paint watercolours or write Gothic novels or something.”

“You could marry someone else… someone older who needs children to carry on their line.”

“I could. But being a brood mare has little appeal to me.”

They were at the door now.

“Oldbeck, remember you must pay attention to both your sister and Mary. You must not ignore Lady Harriet. You must call Mary ‘Miss Callahan’ at all times. You must not damage her reputation. No touching anything but her arm and if her glove is not on then you DO NOT TOUCH!” He leaned closer to the younger man and spoke very quietly but Harriet could still hear. “And if you have memories or thoughts of tupping her and it starts to get hard, start to count to fifty in twos. Two, four, six, eight, ten, twelve… just like that. It will go away and you shall forget.”

Harriet blinked. Oh dear, she really wished she had not heard that. But she was a little fascinated by it too.

The butler offered William his hat and gloves and her brother put them on quickly before offering Harriet his arm. He’d obviously been told she must be escorted rather than Mary since she was the lady of higher rank. They walked out to the barouche and William helped both ladies into the carriage. Lord Stephen was walking down his front steps, Phoebe in tow, as William clambered in and took the seat opposite the ladies. He nodded his head and Phoebe waved before they turned down the street in the direction of the Halimead townhouse to meet his mother.

Harriet watched him go with a ridiculous sense of loss. There was something about him. She felt safe in his presence and a little as if a part of her was missing when he was away. But of course, that was silly. She hardly knew the man.

They rolled up to the church a few minutes later. The modern building was only a few streets away from their townhouse but with the detour to pick up William and the necessity to not be stopped and spoken to by half the
ton
, Harriet had just deemed it easier to take a carriage. Besides, most of the
ton
travelled around Mayfair in carriages despite the whole area being walking distance even including most of Hyde Park—if you had boots on and not silly slippers of course.

A number of members of the congregation were milling around outside, talking until it was time for the service to start. The day was grey but not wet or cold. A slight wind wafted the feathers in some of the ladies’ bonnets and fluttered a few skirts, showing off the ladies’ legs. Harriet was not sure how appropriate that was for the churchyard. William climbed down and helped first Harriet and then Mary alight from the barouche. They walked into the churchyard and stopped to exchange greetings with a few people whom Harriet knew from previous Seasons and trips to London.

They had just arrived at the door of the church when the vicar’s wife approached. Harriet smiled warmly. Mrs Paton was a short, comely woman with twinkling blue eyes and greying hair held back in a tight, unforgiving bun. Her dress was made of grey wool with a pretty lace collar which Harriet suspected she made herself. Mary looked transfixed by the intricate design.

“Lord Oldbeck, Lady Harriet, it is a pleasure to see you in town again.”

“Mrs Paton, may I introduce Miss Callahan, Lord Oldbeck’s betrothed. She is new to town this season. Her parents have both passed away and I have taken it upon myself to introduce her to society myself.”

Mary bobbed a curtsey as did Mrs Paton, who registered surprise at the young lady’s subservience but masked it well. It was only then that Harriet noticed a problem. William was on his hands and knees. A young lady, standing near to the church wall, wrenched the hem of her gown out of William’s hand then turned around and crouched down. Lifting up a gold coin, she smiled and handed it to him.

“William, stand up.” Harriet whispered, looking around to see how many people had noticed. It seemed that some may be able to see William, but none could see the girl. “Quickly. Oh!”

“Stay there for a moment, Abigail,” said the vicar’s wife sternly moving her body slightly to hide the girl from sight. “Do not draw attention to yourself.”

William got to his feet and dusted the dirt from his knees.

“I dropped my money for the offering.” His face red and his eyes lowered. He knew he had done the wrong thing.

“William, you were…”

“Lady Harriet, I think it best we discuss this privately, do you not agree?”

Harriet looked around at the other members of the congregation and realised they were all filing into church—still unaware of what had just happened.

“Yes, of course.”

“Perhaps we could talk after the service.”

Harriet wanted to cry. She could feel the tears sting in the backs of her eyes but she had been taught not to cry. Young ladies do not cry in front of others. It is just not good
ton
.

“Yes, that would be fine.” She hated that her voice had come out weak and broken.

“Before you go in, let me assure you that no harm has been done and Abigail’s reputation will be fine. All anyone saw was your brother on his knees picking up something. Perhaps he was a little close to my ankles but he is unlikely to get much of a thrill from them and I assure you, my reputation is solid.”

“Thank you.”

“Well, I would prefer you to be concentrating on God than worrying about my wrath, my dear,” said the older woman. “Come, the service is about to start.”

****

An hour later Harriet, Mary, William, Mrs Paton, the Vicar and Abigail stood in the vestry.

“I am very sorry Vicar, Mrs Paton and Abigail, of course. I didn’t mean to … well I don’t know…. ruin Abigail… I mean Miss Paton.” William was fidgeting with the fingers of his leather gloves, probably worrying a hole into them. Mason would not be pleased. Harriet could see that William wanted to pace. He was bouncing on his heels and his voice was getting higher in tone and volume.

“You have not ruined Miss Paton, Lord Oldbeck, though you may have, had it not been for Abigail’s quick thinking,” said her mother in a kind but slightly chastising manner. Harriet appreciated this. William needed to learn but he understood the gravity of this situation.

“You would have had to have married Abigail instead and what would have happened to the baby?” said Mary.

Harriet groaned internally.

“You are with child, Miss Callahan?” asked the vicar. Mary nodded and blushed looking at Harriet apologetically. “And you are going to do the right thing by her?” He speared William with a glare.

“The right thing?”

“Are you marrying her?”

“Yes. Of course. I love her.” He looked at his fiancée and grinned, then his brow furrowed. She watched as his lips started moving. Oh no, Harriet realised her brother was counting in twos. She forced herself to look away. There was no way she was looking to see what state he was in.

The vicar’s face broke into a smile.

“Will you be getting a special licence?”

“We will. We are getting Lord Oldbeck some help at polishing his skills—and Miss Callahan too. I wondered if you knew of any young ladies who may be interested in a governess post with a difference. You see, Lord Stephen Charville and I are working with Lord Oldbeck and Miss Callahan. Lord Stephen has a six-year-old daughter who really needs a governess and we thought that Miss Callahan could sit in on lessons for a few weeks. Our difficulty is finding someone who would be appropriate but would not…well… judge Miss Callahan for her upbringing and if they found out about her…” she rubbed her own stomach slightly “…state.”

“Abigail is looking for work as a governess. She is twenty-one, has a good education and has read all the books on etiquette. We are a good middle-class family and have been in and around the
ton
all her life. We have brought her up to see the world through the eyes of Jesus Christ. Judge not lest ye be judged.”

At last Abigail walked forwards.

“Miss Callahan, it would be my pleasure to help you if you would allow me. And a six-year-old girl sounds like a delight for a first charge. I would promise to continue my own studies from your library if you would allow me access. I believe that continuing to learn is the most important thing a governess can do.”

“Well it is not just my decision to make but I would be happy to employ you as governess, Miss Paton. Would you and Mrs Paton please come to Oldbeck House tomorrow afternoon at three o’clock to meet Lord Stephen and we can make a final decision?”

“Oh that would be wonderful.”

The young woman’s green eyes lit up with excitement and Harriet could see it took all her strength of will not to jump up and down. Her mother and father looked at each other, a satisfied look on their faces. It seemed it had been a good day all round. They needed a governess and her family had known the Patons for years. Her father had spoken well of the Reverend Paton. It looked as if disaster had been averted and good had come out of a near travesty. She just had to convince Lord Stephen that Miss Paton would make a good governess.

Chapter Seven

“It is raining.” Phoebe scowled as she craned her neck to see out of the long windows at the rear of Oldbeck House. They were eating a sumptuous Sunday lunch of turkey and beef. Phoebe had been allowed to join the grown-ups as the nursery in Oldbeck House was in disrepair. The schoolroom was currently being put back to rights for when a suitable governess could be appointed.

“So it is.” Stephen looked out of the window and saw that indeed it was raining and quite heavily too. “Well, at least Hyde Park will be quiet for our ride.”

“We cannot go for a drive in this weather,” exclaimed the little girl.

“Why ever not?” he teased. They always played this game.

“Because we shall all catch chills and die.”

“Well that’s rather dramatic. More likely we shall catch chills, be slightly unwell and recover fully, but yes, best not to take any chances I suppose.”

“So do we have to stay in all afternoon?” whined Oldbeck.

“Gentlemen do not whine,” Stephen admonished. “Besides, complaining about English weather is futile. Let us be honest, it rains all the time in England. It is a fact of life.”

“But what shall we do?”

“We shall do what we always do when it rains, William. We shall read and write letters and play cards and charades and other parlour games.”

“You know I cannot read or write letters. And parlour games are tiresome. I hate the rain.”

“Perhaps I could read,” said Lord Stephen jovially. “Do you know Robinson Crusoe, Oldbeck?”

“Can’t say I do. Is he a nice chap?”

“It is a book. It is a story of a young chap who goes to sea against his parents’ wishes.”

“Oh, we may as well listen then,” said William, waving his hand dismissively and getting up. “Much better than playing stuffy old parlour games with Harry.”

“I shall get our copy form the library. It was one of Papa’s favourites. But he never read aloud to us,” said Harriet, pulling herself to her feet, looking somewhat weary and defeated. Stephen tried to give her an encouraging smile and when her green eyes lit up slightly, he felt a jolt of awareness in his breeches. He liked easing her burden it seemed. If he was not careful, he would soon be counting in twos…

****

Five minutes later they were all seated around the hearth in the drawing room and Lord Stephen started the story of the contrary young man, Robinson Crusoe. Of course, Harriet had read the book in her childhood and had enjoyed it, but it seemed that no one had thought to read the tale to her younger brother. She wondered why she never had. And why had neither of her parents or the nanny or tutors? Perhaps Robinson was seen as a bad influence on a boy such as William.

Stephen’s dulcet baritone voice was perfect as he described Robinson’s parents’ concerns about their son going to sea and his first voyage. She enjoyed watching her brother’s face change as Robinson first hated the sea voyage, then loved it, then got drunk, then began to fear for his life again, before getting drunk yet again. She had a feeling that William may very well have chosen to come home at that point, proving that despite him being classed as an imbecile, he was possibly more sensible than a lot of young men.

Lord Stephen read until Robinson was captured by pirates. A look of amusement crossing his face as he closed the leather bound volume. She looked at her soon-to-be sister-in-law who sat enraptured staring into nothingness and then to her brother, the excitement evident on his face. Disappointment flashed across William’s features, but Harriet could not help thinking he held his tongue for fear his new friend would refuse to read from the book at a later date if he made a fuss. As she turned to Lord Stephen he caught her gaze and grinned. Phoebe was nestled against his side, drowsy from the heat of the fire but aware her father had finished his reading.

“Papa, are you not going to read more?”

“No, my darling, not today. Perhaps another day. There are other things we can do on a Sunday afternoon. We could be scandalous and have dancing lessons. Lord Oldbeck says that he does not know how to dance. I think it is time he was taught.”

“Ooh yes, let’s.” said Mary, jumping to her feet.

Harriet hid a smile behind her handkerchief.

“Oh I was only teasing.”

“I think that is what they mean when they say one is hoist by their own petard, Lord Stephen.” She could not help it. He looked vaguely horrified. “Oh come on. It would only be a little dancing with the family and one of the maids playing the pianoforte. No one would know. Besides, it is not as if we are Presbyterians. I promise not to allow the maid to play a waltz.”

He guffawed at that.

“So we are going to be dancing?” said Phoebe, wriggling free from her father.

“Yes,” Harriet said decisively. “But first we shall have tea.”

She got up to ring for the bell just as Lord Stephen got up to move seats. They found themselves, quite by accident, toe to toe, forehead to chin.

“I do beg your pardon, my lord,” she whispered, stepping to the side. Unfortunately, in an attempt to get out to the awkward situation they were in, Lord Stephen stepped to the same side.

His nearness seemed to set her off balance and muddle her thoughts. All she could do was breathe in the scent of him. It was a musky scent—spicy and very male. She stared at his emerald cravat pin which sat right at her eye level. She dared not look up into his eyes. Those chocolate depths that stole her very soul. He’d not had this effect on her two years ago. He had just vexed her with his need to mollycoddle her after a quick dip in the pond.

Lord Stephen reached out a hand, pulled the bell cord for a servant then took her by the shoulders and turned her round. Guiding her back towards her chaise.

“It looked like you and Lord Stephen were going to kiss there,” said William—subtle as a coach and six as ever.

“Only if she was going to kiss his cravat, dummy,” said Mary.

“Don’t call me a dummy. I meant they were so close and Harry’s cheeks are all red now. I think she likes him.”

“Oh she does,” agreed Mary.

Oh God, she wanted to die. Now.