Carola Dunn (7 page)

“No,” said Teresa flatly. “I beg your pardon, I do not mean to offend. I am sure she would be happy here, but I do not care to be parted from her.”

Tom intervened. “It cannot be thought suitable for a child that age to be dragged about the Continent.”

“Remember, Cousin, that she was born in China and has spent most of her young life abroad. She’s a sturdy child, no wilting flower.”

“I believe we should consider Muriel’s kind offer, Teresa,” said Sir Andrew. “It might be better for Peri to be with children her own age, and Annie would only have you to take care of.”

“No.”

“At least we should discuss the possibility.”

“There is nothing to discuss. My mind is made up, Andrew.”

“We shall discuss it later.” Though quiet his voice was determined, with a hint of annoyance.

Teresa nodded. Rebecca searched for a sign in her face that she feared her husband’s anger. She saw only an equal determination. Did Teresa fear nothing, or had she nothing to fear? Rebecca glanced at John to see how he reacted to this threat to his idol.

He was looking thoughtful, but not in the least concerned. Perhaps he considered it a husband’s right to beat his wife—or perhaps he anticipated no such outcome. Rebecca longed to believe that it was possible for a man to express his wrath in words, not blows.

When John spoke, his words were so irrelevant to her thoughts that it was a moment before she took them in. “Cousin Rebecca is going to teach me Russian.”

All eyes turned to her. Muriel seemed to be surprised, Tom sceptical, Teresa and Sir Andrew interested. Rebecca flushed and looked down, biting her lip.

“You speak Russian?” Teresa sounded pleased.

“A little. I used to, when I was a child.”

“I hope you will be willing to include Andrew and me in John’s lessons?”

“I never learned to read, nor write it. And I daresay what I learned from Grand’mère must be nursery language, of little use to you.”

Andrew gestured dismissively. “Vocabulary we can find elsewhere. It’s the pronunciation we are having trouble with.”

“Terrible trouble,” Teresa confirmed, laughing. “Do say you will help. It will not be so great an imposition, for we leave in three days.”

Rebecca looked around. John was still unwontedly contemplative, the Graylins alert, expectant. In three days they would all be gone, taking with them the colour and vivacity they had brought into her life. She would return to the placid existence in the Danville household for a day or two, then back to London with Cousin Adelaide. Back to the uneventful hours which had been blissful after her uncle’s house and now seemed—dull?

She must make the best of those three days. “I’ll do it.”

“Splendid.” Andrew grinned at her.

“Will you mind if Annie and Rowson join us?” Teresa asked hesitantly. “I know it is a lot to ask.”

“Don’t forget Esperanza,” John put in.

“In for a penny, in for a pound,” said Rebecca with an air of reckless bravado.

“Then the sooner we begin the better.” John smiled, and nodded encouragingly. She had a feeling he had expected nothing less of her. “But you must not give up your walks. I’ll go with you and you shall coach me on the way.”

“We’ll join you,” Andrew proposed.

John looked less than pleased. “But you already have an unfair advantage, having begun your studies earlier,” he grumbled.

“It may be the only time available,” Rebecca pointed out. “My first duty is to Cousin Adelaide. I shall have to ask her if she can spare me in the afternoons.”

“It is intolerable the way she ties you to her side!”

Tom frowned at his brother’s outburst. Muriel said quickly, “I shall talk to Mama. I daresay I can think of something to keep her occupied for a day or two.”

When the four of them set out across the fields some time later, Rebecca was glad of the Graylins’ presence. Though not directed at her, John’s anger had made her wary of him. She stayed close to Teresa’s side.

The pressure of their expectations suddenly seemed overwhelming. “I don’t know where to start,” she confessed.

“Tell us a story,” Andrew proposed. “A fairy tale perhaps? Something to give us the feel of the language.”

So Rebecca told them one of the tales of the witch, Yaga Baba, and her hut that scuttled about on four chicken’s legs. The richly rolling syllables sounded out of place in the Lincolnshire countryside, but her pupils listened intently.

“Again, with a translation, if you don’t mind?” requested Andrew.

She complied, stopping now and then to let them repeat words and phrases after her. Teresa and Andrew were quick to pick up the intonation. John, though he had a good memory for the meaning of words, persisted in sounding thoroughly English.

“I warned you, remember?” he said laughingly to Rebecca as she tried patiently to explain the difference between two similar letters. “I have no ear for it. But pray do not give up on me altogether. It will be useful to understand even if I cannot make myself understood.”

“Yes, that may do very well,” said Andrew thoughtfully, but despite Teresa’s teasing he refused to explain.

When they returned to the house, they found that Muriel had taken her mother to Spalding on a shopping expedition. Nuncheon became a lesson in the Russian names of various foods, and then the class adjourned to the library. Annie and Rowson joined them there.

At first Rebecca found the maid’s black face distracting. She was soon won over by the girl’s willingness to learn, and found her an apt pupil. Her husband, Sir Andrew’s servant and long-time travelling companion, was a short, wiry man whose weatherbeaten face made him appear older than his years. Showing a rough and ready grasp of essentials, he ignored the claims of grammar and syntax and was soon able to request hot water, demand a meal, or ask the way to the nearest inn.

Rebecca discovered she enjoyed the rôle of teacher, especially when Esperanza came down for a half hour’s instruction. The little girl’s enthusiastic interest in Yaga Baba and her wandering
izba
delighted her.

“I can hear better if I sit in your lap,” Esperanza suggested hopefully.

As she lifted the child, Rebecca surprised a look of satisfaction on John’s face. She could not imagine why he should be so pleased that Esperanza liked her.

* * * *

John had chafed all evening at Lady Parr’s demands on her companion. When her ladyship returned early from a round of visits next day, claiming a headache and insisting that Rebecca abandon the lessons to attend her, he reached a decision.

“Teresa, I’d like word with you,” he said as the others straggled out of the library.

“Of course. What is it?” His cousin resumed her seat and looked at him expectantly.

He ran his fingers through his hair. “I don’t know quite how to put it. You are worried about whether Annie will be able to look after Esperanza, are you not?”

“A little. It is no great matter.”

“You must have noticed how fond Peri is of Rebecca already. Ned and Mary adored her too. And she is a good teacher, isn’t she?”

“Excellent.” Teresa smiled at him affectionately. “I fancy I can guess what you mean to propose, but I wish you will tell me anyway.”

“Take her with you! Rescue her from that abominable woman. She can continue our lessons and I daresay she will not mind helping with Esperanza. Besides, she will be a companion for you, too.”

“Annie has always provided all the female companionship I need on our travels.”

“But Annie is only a servant, after all. Rebecca is a lady, refined and sensitive.”

“And spiritless. I do not mean to disparage her, but she has not one half of Annie’s courage and capability.”

“You wrong her!” John thought of Rebecca’s life with her uncle and her bold escape. That story was not his to tell, but he could remind Teresa of the river rescue. “I told you how she saved that urchin from drowning when she might have climbed out by herself. Admittedly, her disposition is retiring. That does not indicate a lack of bravery.”

Teresa frowned. “Perhaps you are right, though she gives an impression of timidity, and you cannot deny that she is far from lively.”

Her searching look brought a slight flush to John’s cheeks. “If she is really so timid, she will refuse to go, but she deserves a chance at something better than a life of slavery with Muriel’s mother,” he protested.

“I am loath to condemn anyone to that fate!” Teresa’s eyes danced. “It was bad enough being her protégée. Oh, very well, John, I will speak to Andrew about it. I expect he will be delighted to keep his Russian instructress, if she agrees to go and if Lady Parr can be persuaded to grant her permission.”

“Bless you!” John caught her hands and kissed her cheek. “I’ll not allow that her ladyship has any say in the matter, though, if Rebecca chooses to come with us.”

“I doubt she will make so adventurous a choice,” she warned.

He shrugged. “If she prefers her present life, at least I will have done what I can to rescue her from it.”

He was aware that his suggestion had surprised and puzzled his cousin. He found it difficult to explain to himself why he was so concerned over Rebecca’s fate. It must be that having saved her life he felt a certain responsibility for her, he decided, trying to ignore his apprehension at the thought that she might refuse.

Later that afternoon, Teresa reported to him that Andrew was very much in favour of the plan.

“You had best broach it to Rebecca at once,” she continued. “She will have preparations to make if she is going with us, and we cannot delay the voyage to wait for her.”

“I think you had best ask her.”

“Why? It is your notion, after all.”

“But it is your daughter she will be looking after, and you and Andrew will be her pupils. Besides, I don’t want her to get it into her head that I...well, the sort of notions that you females get into your heads.”

“You think that the slightest expression of interest will start any female setting her cap at you? Of all the vain, self-satisfied, conceited...!”

“Of course you are different,” said John hurriedly. “All the same, I wish you will ask Rebecca.”

Unable to deny that considerable numbers of predatory females had indeed thrown the handkerchief in the direction of her eminently eligible cousin, Teresa agreed.

The opportunity arose after dinner. Tom and Andrew had gone off to play billiards. Lady Parr was temporarily occupied in criticising her daughter’s performance on the harp. Rebecca was wondering tiredly whether she dared slip away to her chamber when Teresa took a seat on the sofa beside her.

John lounged nearby with an unconvincing air of listening to the music. He appeared to Rebecca to be trying to lurk inconspicuously, no easy task for a gentleman of his size in an elegant drawing room. Teresa’s words distracted her.

“I have a great favour to ask of you.”

“A favour? Of course, anything I can do to help.”

“Wait until you have heard me out. I want you to come with us to Russia.”

“To Russia!” She was so astonished she could not think of anything more sensible to say.

“We are loath to lose your help with our language studies, but quite apart from that, I have noticed how fond Chiquita is of you. You must have heard that we are worried that Annie will not be able to care for her properly. It would be such a relief if you would agree to help look after her.”

“She is a darling, and I have thought that I should like to take care of children, but…to Russia!”

John abandoned his pose of inattention. “Do say you will go. Indeed, I hardly know how we shall manage without you. I need a great deal more coaching, you must admit, or I shall be quite useless when I arrive. And surely you cannot prefer your present life to such an adventure. You may never have such a chance again.” His voice was low, to avoid being overheard by Lady Parr, but his eager impatience with Rebecca’s uncertainty was obvious.

It frightened her. To be sure, Teresa would be there, but Sir Andrew would be her employer, with authority over her.

And Lord John, how would he treat her once he was no longer her pupil? The role in which she knew him best—indulgent uncle—would be left behind, and she could not guess what sort of man he might turn out to be.

“You must come!”

His imperious demand was too much for her composure. Half blinded by tears, she fled.

Lying on her bed in the darkness of her chamber, curled in a knot of misery, she felt a fool. Teresa must think her behaviour extraordinary, an inexplicable response to a generous offer. No doubt the offer would be withdrawn, for no one would want to employ a governess of such excessive sensibility. John, too, must be disgusted with her. Though he knew her past, it was not to be expected that so self-confident a gentleman should understand her fears.

There was a soft knock at the door. Before she could answer Teresa came in, carrying a branch of candles which she set on the dressing table. Rebecca scrambled to sit up, blotting her eyes with the back of her hands.

“I’m sorry,” she choked out.

Looking unwontedly grave, Teresa sat on the edge of the bed and patted her shoulder. “John did not mean to upset you. He is greatly distressed. I bear his most sincere apologies.”

“Oh no, it was not his fault. Indeed I am sorry to be such a peagoose.”

“He told me that he should have known better than to press you, after you honoured him with your confidence.”

There was a questioning note in her voice. Rebecca was tempted to try to explain her panic, the terror that overwhelmed her at the sound of an imperious male voice. But though they had somehow slipped into the spurious intimacy of first name terms, she did not know Teresa well enough to trust her with her shameful story. Lady Graylin, lively and intrepid, would think her a ridiculous coward.

“He must not blame himself,” she repeated helplessly.

“I wish he had not interrupted before I had time to explain properly. Of course we do not expect you to give up your present position for nothing. A governess and tutor combined deserves higher remuneration than a lady’s companion, that goes without saying.”

“That is not why I hesitated,” Rebecca protested, then she realized that Teresa was teasing her in an effort to rally her spirits. She managed to smile. “I promise you I am not so mercenary. But I need time to think.”