A Reason to Rebel (6 page)

“Since Mrs. Cleethorpe had made it clear that she cannot keep the girl, Miss…what is her name, Mother?”

“Miss Tilling.”

“Since Mrs. Cleethorpe cannot take Miss Tilling in herself, try and think of someone who would have the goodness to offer her accommodation until she has recovered her strength. I am persuaded that her occupation speaks for her respectability. As likely as not she will be the daughter of some impecunious gentlemen forced by circumstances to make her own way in the world.”

“I daresay that she is.”

“And if she is well-educated, she is also likely to be well-read.”

Alex hoped he had not overplayed his hand by mentioning books, which were his mother’s abiding passion, and refrained from making any further comment.

“I should not approve of any young lady who did not take pleasure in reading.”

“And you would be in the right of it.” Alex paused, adopting a contemplative expression. “Upon reflection, it does seem to be a hopeless case, Mother. I rather fancy that for once you must admit defeat, for I cannot think of a solution. Perhaps you should suggest to Mrs. Cleethorpe that the girl be returned to her family, if she has one to return to, that is,” he added, conveniently turning the hapless Miss Tilling into an orphan, a circumstance which he knew his mother would find too distressing for words.

“Oh no, I could not possibly do that. Mrs. Cleethorpe is relying upon me to advise her.”

“But if you cannot help and if the girl has no family to take her back…” Alex shrugged. “We must hope that someone else of Mrs. Cleethorpe’s acquaintance will be able to think of something. Although Susanna has not been married for five minutes and cannot yet know many people in the locality of her new home. Perhaps that is why she is so anxious for your advice.”

“Then Miss Tilling must come here.” She nodded her head so vigorously that her chins wobbled. “I knew I would find a solution, even if you had quite given up on me.” Alex bowed his head to hide his smile. “I should have thought of it at once if you had not distracted me. It is the perfect answer. If there is one thing we have in abundance here at Crawley Hall it is peace and quiet. And if the young lady feels strong enough, once she has settled in of course, perhaps she will oblige me by reading aloud after supper. My eyesight is not what it once was, and the print in some of the novels I read is quite shockingly small.”

“As always, Mother, you have saved the day. I quite underestimated you.”

“I dislike being bested, Alex, as you well know.”

“Indeed I do.” Alex stood, ready to take his ride at last, and brushed his mother’s lined forehead with his lips. “Why do you not reply to Mrs. Cleethorpe at once and make your suggestion, Mother? If Miss Tilling has been turned out of her employer’s home I daresay it is a matter of some urgency for her to find alternative lodgings, especially if she is feeling unwell.”

“Yes, you are right, my dear. I must relieve Mrs. Cleethorpe’s anxieties at once; and dear Miss Tilling’s too, of course.”

“I will arrange for your letter to be sent by express. If Miss Tilling accepts your invitation, perhaps we can look forward to receiving her here at Crawley Hall the day after tomorrow.” Alex, conscious of the trouble Susanna must have taken to devise this stratagem so swiftly, was determined to match her for efficiency. He could not but wonder where the obliging Miss Tilling had sprung from at such short notice but was too grateful for her timely appearance to dwell upon the reason for it.

“Yes, yes, that would be entirely convenient. I will have Middleton prepare the spare chamber in the west wing at once. The one that overlooks the small courtyard. Miss Tilling will be assured of absolute quiet in that part of the house. Now, where did I leave my eyeglasses?”

“They are on the end of your nose, Mother.”

“Oh, of course they are, how silly of me!” She touched them, just to be sure. “How could I have read Mrs. Cleethorpe’s letter without them? Now, I must write at once, there is not a moment to spare. Give me your arm, Alex, and help me to my escritoire.”

–—

Two days later the sound of a carriage rattling down the drive in the late afternoon distracted Alex from his business with his steward. Dismissing the man, he reached the drawing room window in time to perceive the Cleethorpe coachman assisting a young lady of above-average height to alight from the conveyance. He was surprised, not really having expected Susanna to act so quickly despite his earlier assurances to his mother. Gratitude washed through him. He could already feel the burden of responsibility for his mother’s welfare lifting from his shoulders.

Miss Tilling was attired in a russet-coloured travelling gown. It was trimmed with green braid and complemented with a matching bonnet that struggled to contain an abundance of wayward auburn curls. Several had escaped and trailed across her shoulders in arresting spirals, but if Miss Tilling noticed their rebellious turn she did not attempt to rectify the situation. To Alex’s eye her costume appeared rather grand for a governess. He would have expected something more serviceable and less fashionable, but the colour became her so well that he did not dwell upon the incongruity.

The girl was exceptionally thin and walked slowly up the steps to the door, which Phelps was holding open for her. She leaned heavily on the coachman’s arm the whole time. Alex raised a brow. Either she really was unwell or she was an exceptional actress. She drew closer to his vantage point and he suspected it was the former, as what little he could see of her face beneath the wide brim of her bonnet was deathly pale.

As though sensing his presence, she lifted her head and turned it in his direction. Alex let out an oath of astonishment. He had not been prepared to encounter such wild beauty. His preconceived notion that all governesses had a duty to be unremarkable was immediately brought into question.

She looked exhausted, ready to drop with fatigue. An air of vulnerability clung to her and her expression hinted at a great sadness. It overwhelmed him with a sudden desire to banish whatever demons afflicted her and persuade her to smile. Her features softened by a genuine smile would, he suspected, be an experience worth the effort required to bring it about. He quickly suppressed the thought. She was to be a temporary guest in his house, a house in which he would spend precious little time over the next few weeks. Provided Miss Tilling proved to be an acceptable companion for his mother, naturally.

Miss Tilling resumed her ascent of the steps and he could no longer see her face, but that was no impediment to his imagination. Her arresting eyes lingered in his mind, tormenting him with their compelling expression. They were quite the most remarkable eyes he had ever encountered.

If this creature really had been dismissed from her position, Alex had no difficulty believing that a jealous wife had seized upon her illness as an excuse to remove temptation from her husband’s path. What man worthy of the name would be able to resist the allure of such exquisitely orchestrated features, enhanced by those damned eyes? They were expressive pools, blinking with a combination of curiosity and intelligence as she took in her surroundings.

But what colour were they? For some inexplicable reason it was important he should know. Hazel to complement the hue of her hair, he would be willing to wager. What he did know was that in the brief seconds they had turned in his direction, he could feel the weight of a great sorrow in their reflection. Something more than a slight fever afflicted this child if he was any judge. Once again he felt the overpowering need to act as her protector. For the second time in less than a minute he found himself desirous of witnessing her remarkable features enhanced by a smile.

Miss Tilling entered the house, and his mother would receive her in the sitting room she favoured, which overlooked the terrace and caught the late afternoon sun. He would give them ten minutes to get acquainted and then make himself known to Miss Tilling.

Dismissing the lascivious thoughts the girl’s unexpected beauty had engendered, Alex reminded himself that she was here to fulfil a specific purpose. He strode towards the sitting room door, satisfied that he was once again in control of himself. He would not leave the young lady alone with his mother until he had satisfied himself that she had not deceived Mrs. Cleethorpe and inveigled her way into his house through false pretences.

“But, my dear Miss Tilling, I insist that you taste a slice of Cook’s delicious sponge cake. I will not take no for an answer. I can see that you are fatigued from your journey but sustenance will immediately revive you. I am persuaded that it is the lightest cake you will ever have tasted—tell me at once if it is not so. Cook made it at my special request because I know how beneficial it can be to those who are not feeling quite the thing. I am afraid that if you do not take a slice she will be quite offended.”

“I fear I have put you to a vast amount of inconvenience, Lady Crawley, and will be happy to try some cake. It is the very least I can do to repay your kindness.”

And so it was that Miss Tilling’s delightful mouth was full when Alex made his entrance. His mother was fussing over her guest, watching her like a hawk in case she tried to avoid eating the cake, so he was at liberty to examine the young lady for a moment before she became aware of his presence. At close proximity, and without her bonnet, Miss Tilling’s appearance was even more arresting. Her posture was rigidly upright, which was no more than one would expect from any governess, and she was every bit as slender as he had at first observed. What he had not appreciated was the curvaceous nature of her body. When his mother succeeded in restoring her to health—a course of action which she appeared to be embarking upon without delay—it could only be enhanced. Already she was pressing Miss Tilling to take a second slice of cake, at the same time demanding to know where she had ever tasted better.

The girl noticed him at that moment and turned her luminous eyes upon him. Yes, they were hazel, quite the most amazing shade of hazel he had ever encountered. Something peculiar happened to him in the few seconds it took for his mother to also notice his appearance. He was taken over by an emotion so alien to him, he was unable to identify it. Until his mother broke the spell by addressing him, he did not think he could have removed his eyes from Miss Tilling’s lovely face if his life had depended upon it.

“Ah, Alex, there you are!” said his mother. “Alex?”

She followed the direction of his eyes when he did not immediately respond. They were still fastened upon Miss Tilling’s countenance, and he was aware of his mother smiling in apparent comprehension. Comprehension of what exactly he did not care to conjecture. He had merely been appreciating the sight of a beautiful yet transparently vulnerable young lady, as any man in his position would have done. Predictably his mother was drawing inappropriate conclusions from his momentary interest in the chit.

“I beg your pardon, Mother.”

“As indeed you ought. No, no, do not get up, my dear. I am sure my son will excuse you. You are not well and must not on any account exert yourself.”

“It would be as well to do as my mother dictates.” Alex smiled at Miss Tilling and extended his hand. “Take it from one who knows. She will have her way in everything. If she has decreed you unwell, you had best resign yourself to her care since she will not be satisfied until she has restored you to the rudest of health.”

“Tosh, pray take no notice, Miss Tilling. My son would have you believe that I intend to invent maladies for you. But anyone with eyes in their head can see that you are quite shockingly thin and your complexion is in urgent want of colour. But, dear me, where are my manners. Miss Tilling, this is my son, Lord Crawley. Alex, this is dear Miss Tilling come to us already, and not a moment too soon by the look of her. The journey has fatigued her dreadfully, the poor dear, she barely has the strength to lift her cup.”

“My dear ma’am, pray do not distress yourself on my account.”

“She will drink her tea,” his mother continued as though Miss Tilling had not interrupted her, “and then I insist she goes straight to her chamber. Middleton lit the fire this morning in anticipation of your arrival. We did not quite know when to expect you, you see. Anyway, she is even now arranging a warming pan for the sheets and you will have your supper on a tray this evening. It is quite evident to me that you are much too ill to come down.”

“No, ma’am, I do assure you, I am quite… Oh, pray excuse me.” She appeared to notice his hand for the first time and extended her own. “Good afternoon, Lord Crawley. I trust you will forgive my unwarranted intrusion in your house.”

“Miss Tilling, you are most welcome. My mother enjoys nothing more than someone to make a fuss over.”

“I certainly do not mean to make extra work for you, ma’am.”

“Hush, child, we will have none of that.” His mother patted Miss Tilling’s hand. “When dear Mrs. Cleethorpe wrote and told me of your iniquitous treatment at the hands of your ungrateful employer, she was at her wits end. She is lately married, you understand, and has yet to experience such domestic crises for herself. She did not know what it would be best to do and so very properly wrote and asked for my advice. Naturally, I thought at once that you ought to come here, even though Alex said I would not be able to resolve the matter. But you see, he was quite wrong and here we are now, all comfortable together.”