“Blimey, people kin do that? Well then, maybes we is havin’ a tellopraptic conversation,” Lucy said. She smiled at Claire over her teacup.
Claire placed her empty teacup on the table and took control of the conversation. “You’ve been here for a week, and you’ve yet to demonstrate any subservient behavior.”
“What do you mean?”
“You enter a room as though you own it and expect everyone to do your bidding.”
“I do not.”
“How did you get that cup of tea? Were you invited to join us?”
Jacob looked at her for a moment, rubbing under his nose with a finger. “Point taken.” “Second, you get out of sorts when you have to do things for yourself.”
“Examples?”
“Your first morning, you slept in and missed breakfast. You were annoyed at Lucy, all the lower servants, and myself for not waking you. You had to put your own laundry into the hamper three days ago; we heard about it in the nursery for the rest of the day. That night in the library—” Claire broke off. She hadn’t told anyone of his appropriation of the scotch. “You barely show proper submissiveness to Fosters and Mrs. Morrison.”
Mr. Knightly shrugged. “Perhaps I believe the class system is outdated. Equality is the way of the future.”
A fourth glance shared, and a laugh this time. “You don’t believe in equality,” Claire said.
He turned to the maid. “Don’t you speak at all?”
Lucy pulled back. “Ye like hearin’ the same thing over? My words ain’t as fancy as hers be, but they still got the same meanin’.”
“Is this a conspiracy?” Jacob slumped back in his chair.
Claire pursed her lips in an attempt to keep from laughing. “Not particularly. It’s not hard to see, even if one is not looking for it. Even now, what you just did, speaks to a life of getting what you want. You’re not used to being thwarted, are you?”
He barely glanced at her.
“Why did you even become a tutor? It clearly does not suit you.”
“According to you, nothing will suit me. I am not subservient enough.”
“You do realize that you sound like the twins right now?”
Lucy stood and picked up the tray. “I’m thinkin’ it be best for me to take this away. I know when to leave somethin’ be.” She gave Claire a significant look. She left the two sitting in silence, watching her leave.
The silence grew. Jacob was still sulking, and Claire had no wish to deal with another childish tantrum. Refusing to be pulled into his antics, she smoothed her skirts and stood. “Good night, Mr. Knightly.” Her brisk steps took her to her door.
“Wait.” His voice called out and stopped her before she could close the door.
“Mr. Knightly, I’m not really in the mood—”
“Look,” he interrupted. He stood and ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t have a choice. I need this tutor position, but as you so eloquently have put it, I am failing.”
“I haven’t even touched on your tutoring abilities yet.”
His eyes shot a glare at her. “There is no need to be caustic.”
“Yet so tempting.” Claire couldn’t hold back a small smirk. “It is clear that humility does not come naturally to you.”
“At least I am trying.”
Claire sobered herself at his petulant tone. He
was
trying, and that deserved some acknowledgement. She waited for him to speak again.
Jacob ran both hands through his hair, ferociously scratching the back of his head. He began to pace. His behavior took Claire by surprise; she had never seen a man so out of sorts before.
“See here,” he finally said. “You must help me.”
“I must?” Raised eyebrows accompanied her question.
“Yes. As I said, I need this position. Sparing you the details, I cannot return to London at this time.”
“I see. Yet I fail to see the part where I
must
help you.”
“I thought I made it clear. You will give me advice on how to navigate the world of servitude.”
Claire folded her arms and let out a long sigh. “It is like dealing with a seven-year-old.”
“Excuse me?”
“This piece of advice is free of charge and given with no obligation or expectation of more to be given. Understood?”
Jacob nodded and gestured magnanimously.
“Servants are ordered around enough by their employers; even within their ranks, the upper servants have the authority and power, and order the lowers around. As used as they are to feeling insignificant and debased, they are human and prefer to be treated as such.”
Jacob was confused. “I don’t follow.”
“Ask, Mr. Knightly, don’t demand. Especially of servants who occupy the same sphere of relevance as you. So before I offer you any more advice on how to ‘navigate the world of servitude,’ I would appreciate if you ask for my help, not demand and expect me to comply.”
“I didn’t—”
“Try to not embarrass yourself again by having me point out your mistakes. I truly dislike that game; no one enjoys having their flaws pointed out, even if they asked to hear them.”
“Gads, you really have the governess role down to a tee. Do you ever relax and stop disciplining people? It makes one feel judged—and found lacking.”
Claire took a deep breath. He was right. She should not be treating him so. “My apologies. I did not mean to be so insulting.”
A wry grin tugged at the corners of him mouth. “I often tend to bring out the worst in people.”
“But that does not excuse my behavior. And despite the frequency, I suspect that one would not appreciate such a characterization. I will endeavor to not add to it.”
It was his turn to look at her silently. For the space of several heartbeats, all he did was stare at her, those pale blue eyes filled with disbelief and surprise. For the first time since his arrival, the effect of those eyes spread over her. So different from the studied gleam usually found in them, this odd unexpected vulnerability sang of sincerity, drawing her in and settling in her chest.
It took several moments and a deep, awkward clearing of his throat, but Jacob finally spoke. “Thank you. I appreciate your efforts.”
Jacob could not remember feeling so out of sorts. The disdain, the dismissal from others—he was used to that; no one ever took him seriously. But this? This outright admission that her treatment of him had been wrong? Despite it being so similar to what he had heard his entire life? What did that mean?
He fell back on the behavior that had been engrained in him as a noble gentleman since birth. Giving her a shallow bow, he gestured to the chair she had been sitting in. “Shall we have a seat and discuss our project?”
She smoothed her skirts and stood a bit straighter; if she was suspicious of his sudden solicitousness, she didn’t give any indication. With a nod, she crossed over to the table and perched on the edge of the chair, folding her hands on her lap. It was a gesture he had seen in countless ladies in the same position; it suddenly became clear where each of them had learned it from. The sudden obviousness made him feel stupid, but Jacob stamped that down and sat down across from her.
“Miss Bannister, I find I am struggling with the new circumstances in which I find myself. I would greatly appreciate any assistance you could provide.”
She nodded again. “I would be happy to help where I can.”
“My thanks.” Jacob resisted the urge to replicate her nod. “As you have noted, I am unused to a life of servitude. While I have not had the most privileged life”—the lie stuck in his throat for a moment—“I have never needed to do for others or serve them. I do not know how to behave in this situation.”
Claire looked down at her hands. “It is not easy to debase oneself.”
That comment caught his attention. “How did you find yourself being a governess?”
She didn’t answer right away. When she did, her voice was quiet but confident. “I was a companion first. For nearly a year. But . . . some things happened, and I had to find a new position. Lady Aldgate was my second interview through the London agency. She liked me, and here I am. That was four years ago.”
That wasn’t quite the answer he was looking for. “And why did you become a companion? This couldn’t have been your lifelong dream.”
A hard look from her. “My next piece of advice: don’t belittle the choices of others. This one is universal, not just limited to how to survive as a servant. You have no concept of what their dreams or ambitions are.”
He sighed. “I have only known you for a week, but I have apologized more to you than I have to anyone in my entire lifetime.”
“Perhaps that could be an indication that your behavior needs to be changed.”
“Was being a companion or a governess your ambition?”
“There is nothing wrong with either position.”
Jacob thought she sounded too defensive. “But were they what you wanted from life?”
She was silent for several beats. “No,” she finally admitted.
Jacob waited for her to say more. “That’s it? That’s all you’re going to say?”
“I thought we were supposed to be talking about you.”
He grunted. “I’m not going to fall for that trap. If I agree with you, I sound like a conceited ass, but if I disagree with you, I end up being annoyingly persistent. Either way I lose.”
Claire sighed. “I don’t understand why we constantly rub each other the wrong way. I am not usually so argumentative.”
Jacob had his theories about that. He hadn’t stopped thinking about her since the moment they met, and his resolution to seduce her hadn’t disappeared. It was frustrating that this was the first time he had been able to talk to her alone. All week he had watched her, growing more and more fascinated each time she smiled and laughed with the children or the maid Lucy. At meals, he could hardly keep his gaze off her dignified posture; he had never considered cheekbones to be an attractive feature, but hers, gently arched, gave her an endearingly noble air, lending the impression of some Roman empress gracing her subjects with her presence. Her warm smile reduced any possible sense of haughtiness and distance, though, drawing in those to whom it was directed. God, he ached to have that smile turned toward him.
That, combined with this conversation, set a niggling thought in the back of his mind that Claire Bannister was more than a woman to be seduced. Thankfully, he was adept at ignoring such righteous thoughts.
J
acob stared in frustration at the blank faces staring back at him. Even after several attempts, the boys still did not understand the concept. “Look, potential energy is when an object is not in motion; the energy is stored within it. When that energy is released, either through internal or external means, and thus begins to move, that energy shifts from being potential to actual, known as
kinetic
, energy.”
“I’m hungry. When’s lunch?” Michael asked.
“I have to wee really bad,” Peter offered.
“I’ll help you wee!” Michael shouted and tackled his brother, tickling him. The two bodies tangled together and rolled all across the floor.
“No, no, stop. Don’t tickle me. You’re going to make me wee. Stop, don’t do that!” Peter’s giggling voice reverberated through the small schoolroom, Michael’s adding to the volume.
“That is enough!” Jacob roared, pulling the two boys apart. “You are not paying attention. Behavior like this will only get you caned, and trust me, I can wield a cane better than you have ever seen in your short lives so far. Now what?” he spit out as he looked at the boys’ red faces.
Michael pointed at Peter. “He wee’d on me.”
Jacob looked down at the boys’ legs, and sure enough, both sets were sporting wet spots. With a growl, he yanked open the door to the nursery. “Miss Bannister, if you please.” The bustle of skirts precipitated her arrival at the door and Jacob pointed at the boys. “Take care of that . . . incident.”
Her eyes wide, Claire took in the scene as the boys looked on, abashed. Once she had properly assessed the situation, her lips pursed together, a stern, disappointed look was given to the boys, and she pointed toward their room. “Really, boys. At seven years of age, this is what happens? How disgusting.” Quiet apologies to her and himself were muttered as the boys sulked out of the room.
Jacob strode to the window and threw it open, releasing the stench of the incident from the room. Closing his eyes, he leaned against the windowpane, dragging in deep breaths of the fresh air. Good Lord, what had he gotten himself into? He had had no idea being a tutor was so frustrating. Had he been like that as a pupil? He could only assume so. All Jacob could remember was the desperate desire to be outside instead of shackled to the schoolroom. He lifted his eyes to the spotless blue sky, taking in the sun reflecting off the small pond and the trees swaying in the cooling breeze. A day like today would have been torture for him as a pupil; so many other things beckoned. Perhaps he should just let the brats run loose; it wasn’t as though he was a real tutor, by any stretch of the imagination. He didn’t even anticipate being here much longer than a month anyway.
A vision of Miss Bannister’s face came to mind, lips pursed and eyes glinting with that strange combination of sternness and disappointment that only governesses and mothers could achieve. He could even hear her voice, that practical tone of hers:
The most important thing I feel I can teach them is to not give up, that through determination and effort they can achieve their goals.
With a snort, Jacob pushed himself away from the windowpane. Giving up. The one thing he did well in life, according to his father. Had anyone taught him the way Miss Bannister taught her charges? No one came to mind.
Think like a child
. Miss Bannister’s advice from last night rang in his head.
Just try to remember what you would have enjoyed. Not much has changed in twenty years; quite possibly the children will like it as well. Even if they don’t, you have learned something about them.
Jacob’s eyes focused on the trees again. A foreign feeling came over him, one that made him think that perhaps this would be one time that he wouldn’t fail. Striding to the door, he called out, “Gentlemen, we are going tree climbing.”