The Observations of a Curious Governess (17 page)

‘Indeed, I accept your apology. I’ve found myself in similar circumstances on occasion, ’ Stanton replied with a smile. ‘Now, before you rush off to find a vicar and wed this shockingly wicked girl,’ he winked at me, in a fashion I believe was in jest but which merely made me weep afresh. ‘There are matters that must be discussed.’

Jonathan frowned. ‘And what matters are those?’ he asked.

I had a terribly sick feeling that Stanton, although he alleged to forgive Mr Reeves’ slight, may wish to revoke his previous offer to me.

‘This is indeed not the time nor place to discuss it, so I invite you back to Stanton for a port. I’ve spent far too long out of doors this morning. It’s damnably hot and I’ve a raging thirst.’

I felt myself shiver.

‘If it pleases you, My Lord, we shall be honoured,’ Jonathan replied, clearly unable to hide his curiosity and sharing a confused glance with me.

****

As we walked the not-inconsiderable distance back to Stanton, we took our time. I was not feeling at all well, and the gentlemen appeared anxious not to have me repeat my collapse. Both hovered near, carefully analysing my every step for any hint of weakness. I knew there was a great deal that Jonathan wished to discuss, but we remained quiet, as did Lord Stanton. It was a peculiar silence in which we found ourselves, the air betwixt us all weighted with expectation. I believed I knew what Stanton wished to discuss; I simply could not guess how he was to phrase it. I found myself uncomfortable with renewed nerves.

At length we were ushered into Stanton’s sitting room. Sinclair the handsome footman was surprised to see us, no doubt. I had left the house looking fine and groomed, and now my dress was stained from its unfortunate encounter with the ground and my straw hat was bent beyond repair. He raised a perplexed eyebrow in my direction, and I offered a rueful smile. There was a comfortable camaraderie betwixt the members of staff in Stanton, and I felt a small glow of warmth that I was now included in it.

This was my first occasion in Stanton’s private sitting room, and I recognised the room as a deeply masculine space. The rich aroma of his cigars hung limp in the air, and drifts of sunlight streamed through the window. I found myself strangely at ease in this foreign room. I looked about and saw glass china cabinets filled with artefacts and precious things. I felt the familiar burn of curiosity flicker to life within me, despite my dire circumstances. I yearned to know where these items hailed from, for I had never seen such exotic items outside a museum. I hovered beside a glass containing some peculiar-shaped stones.

‘Those are spearheads, Miss Swan, from the savages of New Holland. Fascinating, aren’t they?’

I leapt back, ashamed once more of my unnatural curiosity.

‘Curiosity is not a crime, Miss Swan,’ Lord Stanton said softly, as if he somehow knew my inner thoughts. ‘No matter what your books say.’

I looked at him then. How could he possibly know what ladies’ books said on the matter of female curiosity?

He offered me a lovely, gentle smile, one that seemed so at odds with the rake and philanderer I’d long understood him to be. He gestured for me to sit, and I could feel Jonathan hover behind me.

With hushed instructions, Stanton sent Sinclair for tea, whilst he poured himself and Jonathan a port. The two gentlemen eyed each other solemnly and offered a silent toast, whilst I awaited my tea. I noticed that His Lordship also had a not-insignificant bookshelf to the rear of the room, which I had little doubt was filled with the most fascinating and lascivious of books.

At length, my tea was supplied, and Sinclair was duly dismissed. Stanton sank down into a deep leather lounging chair, sipped his port, and studied us both.

‘I fear, Miss Swan, that I must revoke my earlier offer,’ he said eventually, those eyes sparkling now with growing mischief. Jonathan stiffened beside me, surprised and no doubt affronted by the manner in which the statement was posed.

I stammered awkwardly, as I comprehended his words. He was revoking his offer? It meant he had chosen not to support me, and, as we were to be married, he must mean Mr Reeves as well. Had Jonathan’s terseness caused this abrupt change in opinion? I wanted to weep. I would have this child in wedlock to be sure – I knew Jonathan would honour me – but we would indeed live in poverty. I thought back to the dilapidated cottage and wondered madly how I could possibly make it liveable before the birth of the child with the meagre finances Mr Reeves and I would have at hand.

I could feel those sparkling eyes watching, and I could sense Mr Reeves’ confusion. ‘What offer was this?’ he asked, the frown audible in his voice.

Lord Stanton smiled. ‘I am fond of Miss Swan, as are my wife and children. In light of her unfortunate condition, I had made an offer of protection to her, so that she would not fall into destitution.’

Jonathan inhaled slightly. ‘That… that… was very kind of you,’ he stammered.

Stanton released a light guffaw. ‘It was, wasn’t it? Now, in light of your marriage proposal, I see my offer is now redundant, as you will no doubt take care of her.’

Jonathan’s face contorted with a grimace, but he nodded. ‘I shall.’

‘Excellent.’ Stanton clapped his hands in evident approval.

I felt so ill, dear reader, so terribly ill and torn. I was so glad to be marrying Jonathan, but our financial pains were severe. What sort of a life would we be able to provide our child? I had hoped, in some small way, that in light of my discretion and loyalty I would still be given recompense by Lord Stanton – now I saw I was mistaken.

There was a terribly long and overdrawn pause, in which Lord Stanton lit a cigar and puffed at it cheerfully. I bit my lip; my eyes were burning with frustration. I would not mention the compensation to Lord Stanton with Jonathan in hearing, for I had given him my word that I would never divulge his secrets, but desperately wanted to say something, anything!

‘You are too much a lady, Miss Swan!’ Lord Stanton abruptly barked, and fell into fits of laughter. ‘You are a rarity amongst women, are you not?’ He laughed at some private, no doubt inappropriate joke.

I heard Jonathan’s sharp intake of breath. ‘Are you making jest at Miss Swan’s condition, Sir?’ he grated, his fine face dark with fury. ‘For despite her ruination – at my hand, I may add – Miss Swan is the finest woman I’ve ever had the pleasure to encounter! I will allow no besmirching of her name.’

My heart swelled with warmth.

Lord Stanton roared all the louder, ‘I am very glad to hear it! Drink, drink, Mr Reeves,’ he said when he regained his composure. ‘I do not mean to besmirch this lovely lady, far from it. I have never met a more exemplary employee. It is for this reason, amongst others, that I would like to speak with you alone, as her betrothed.’

The warmth melted away and my belly turned to ice.

‘Dear Miss Swan, if you would be so kind as to give us a moment to converse?’

I could scarcely deny the gentleman, so with one last pained glance at Jonathan’s confused expression I bobbed and swept from the room.

It seemed Lord Stanton and Jonathan were in that sitting room an interminably long time. I paced, and I waited, wretched in my room. After a long time, Jenny knocked upon my door and informed me that Mr Reeves was due to depart the house.

At this I flew from my room. What had Stanton said? What had happened in that room?

Lord Stanton had just farewelled Mr Reeves, and offered me an insouciant wink before he strode back into his sitting room, closing the door firmly behind himself.

The rogue! What had he done?

As I approached Jonathan, he was rubbing wearily at his temples as if he suffered great pain.

‘Mr Reeves?’ I spoke softly and tapped his arm. At my voice he spun around, his eyes dazed.

‘Martha …’ he whispered.

I searched his face for meaning, but found myself unable to discern anything from his peculiar gaze.

‘What has happened?’ I whispered, the all-too familiar churning of my belly sending me weak.

‘He said he wishes to start up a law company in the village,’ Jonathan began dazedly. ‘He wishes me to be the house solicitor.’

My heart lurched. ‘He does?’

‘Indeed, he will finance the business as a silent partner. I shall employ who I wish, and charge as I wish. Naturally we shall share the profits but… I cannot believe it, Martha!’

‘This is wonderful!’ I cried, and my hand tightened around his arm. I found myself thanking the absent Lord Stanton most heartily.

‘He has said that the village has long needed a solicitor to deal with tenancies and inheritances and the like, and he believes I should be that solicitor. He thanked me most earnestly for all my work with his own tenants and wished that I accept his offer.’

I hesitated. ‘You have accepted, have you not?’

‘Of course,’ he grinned boyishly. ‘But that is not all…’

‘It is not?’ I was still, unable to nod for fear I may weep, so grateful was I to Lord Stanton.

‘He has said that he will send his labourers to mend our house, as the village solicitor must live in a suitable property to garner the esteem of the village. He’s quite right, I think. His Lordship also suggested he will give me the house and land as a gift – though this I could not accept. I shall indeed pay him the sum for the land and house when we have means.’

I did weep then, thanking once again Lord Stanton for keeping his promise to protect me, through giving my beloved Jonathan the means to do it.

****

We spent the rest of the day together, as one may imagine we might, in celebration and joy. You see, dearest reader, that when I retired to my room some hours ago, I found my circumstances immeasurably improved from when I woke this morning. I shall be married within the month if Mr Reeves has his way, and during that time His Lordship has hired carpenters to fix our little cottage as Mr Reeves develops his business.

I could not have imagined such an outcome.

My candle is close to burning out, and my hand cramps with pain, yet still I feel no exhaustion. I have thoughts and reflections aplenty all clamouring for my attention.

Of course, there are matters that still need to be dealt with – a letter to my parents is an awkward necessity, and a firm discussion with the incorrigible Mrs Reeves is most pressing on my mind. Still, all this aside I am a woman well-pleased her lot.

****

As I look back on my writings, I fear they are not at all like the earnest lectures of Hester Chapone I had once hoped to replicate. Indeed, they are something altogether quite different, but I humbly suggest, of no less import.

I commenced these writings searching for fulfilment and satisfaction in my position such as it was. It is through this search and through my careful reflections I have discovered something quite spectacular.

My behaviour has not been what it should. I very nearly ruined everything of myself that held import in the eyes of society. Yet it is in this ruination that I have most certainly found my salvation too. I have discovered that so many of us live within deep self-deception, and strive most ardently to hide what it is that we most secretly desire. Thus I’ve come to realise that our feelings are not mere ornaments to be compartmentalised and placed in a china cabinet. Instead, they may be worn and revealed to those who will appreciate them most. I cannot say I would suggest to another lady in my circumstance to follow my actions, indeed not. Yet my path, ruinous though it may have been for some, has led me to discover true friendship and love. I cannot therefore deny its virtues.

Hester Chapone once wrote:

and I must agree, for despite his other appearances, Lord Stanton has as much integrity as anyone, and I cannot fathom a greater generosity than that he has show Mr Reeves and I. He is a curious combination indeed – but a combination I must be thankful for.

Thus it is I have come full circle; my understanding of those notions spoken of so sagely in my readings is much changed. My knowledge of life and its complexities has grown much broader, for now I have lived it, rather than merely read it. These experiences, some painful and some peculiar, have lead me to understand that piety, morality and censure are variable, and indeed flexible, depending on circumstance. The rake and philander, the woman of loose morals and the dedicated maid are not all as they appear. They are complex and unique, despite what society may believe them to be. This revelation is a powerful one for a lady such as myself. I can revel in my lover’s touch, moan beneath his lips without fear of censure now, for I have none of it in my heart. I can see the ripe affection His Lordship holds for his wife, and understand his hunger for the fairer sex without revulsion. For I know the gentleman behind those acts, and he is a kind and an undeniably generous one.

I believe that the heart, with all its incumbent faults, often stands in need of a faithful partner to share in its cares. And thanks to this peculiar place, and its peculiar Lordship and family, I have finally found it.

****

10
^th
August 1813

Preparations for my wedding are progressing in a most pleasing fashion indeed. Due to my delicate condition, His Lordship has expedited the process through his parish and today Mr Reeves and I visited upon the good Reverend to finalize the details.

The day was slightly inclement, and there was a chill wind blowing. Mr Reeves had come to collect me from Stanton and we made our way via the woodland trail to the vicarage.

I was determined on this occasion to set Mrs Maria Reeves straight upon a few matters. I had seen the lady at church and on a few occasions about the village, and she retained a sour expression when in my presence that I found both disconcerting and offensive. Though I have oft said that gossip is a vice, and not one worthy of my attention, a piece of such gossip met my ears earlier this week and has verily irritated me beyond reason.